The After Dark Collection: Books 1-3 in The Gift Series

by Blakely, Lauren

  But the moment was broken when his phone rang.

  12

  Adam

  Brandon’s face appeared on my phone as The Rolling Stones’ “Start Me Up” blasted.

  He’d picked that tune. It was his favorite, and it was our anthem during college. The Friday night song, we’d called it, before we hit the quad for parties, pool, and whatever else we could find when it came to festivities.

  I slid my thumb across the screen, answering, “You can’t resist me. Admit it. This is the second time in less than twenty-four hours you’ve called.”

  “Yes, that’s it, Adam. I can’t stay away from you,” he said, and his eyes drifted to Nina at the edge of the screen. “Bonjour, Mademoiselle Nina. Ça va?”

  She laughed, rolling her eyes. She didn’t know Brandon well, but she’d met him a year ago when he was in town. “Do you actually speak French now?”

  I shot her a knowing look. “Remember last time Brandon was here? He tried to pick up some gals from Montreal using his French skills, and he failed abysmally.”

  “Is that so?” she asked. I liked that she was chatting with him on this call, even briefly, because she was normally reserved with people she didn’t know well. Brandon fell into that category. But here she was, by my side. That was a sign that she wasn’t weirded out by what we’d just done. She was still herself with me, and that reassured me that we could work through her list exactly as we intended to.

  Brandon cleared his throat. “Ahem. It wasn’t my French that failed me. Don’t you remember?”

  I smacked my palm to my forehead, recalling how his pickup attempt went down—in flames. “That’s right. It was your radar that failed you. The Montreal gals weren’t in Vegas for the boys. They were in Vegas for the girls.”

  “All the more reason why I was trying to insert myself into their lady sandwich,” he said, flashing a grin, keeping it light, as he always did. I knew better, but I also knew this was how he operated. How he had to operate.

  “Dream big, my friend,” I said, then shifted gears. “To what do I owe the pleasure of an early morning phone call?”

  Brandon furrowed his brow, casting his gaze from Nina to me and back. “Isn’t it eight-thirty where you are? I know you two are like Batman-and-Robin kind of close, but I didn’t realize you were hanging out in the bat cave that early.”

  “For the record, I’m not Robin, and besides, this is my bat cave,” Nina said, arching a brow over her glasses. I reined in a grin, both from the comment—because who in their right mind ever wanted to be Robin?—and also because she looked badass in her red-as-sin glasses and with that sharp stare in her brown eyes. And tough, too, with her whole photographer look in full force this morning. Dark jeans, black boots, and a wine-red shirt. Biker chic, and did she ever wear it well.

  She wore everything well, including her kinks. To think the woman who’d been my friend and neighbor had been hiding this fantastic secret these last few years, and I didn’t mean her virginity. I meant her appetite in bed—she was a little bit submissive, a lot kinky, and all kinds of dirty.

  My kind of woman.

  And I was the only one who knew about the other side of Nina.

  “Fine, you can be Catwoman and he can be Batman. How’s that?” Brandon asked, and his tone was still inquisitive, but I doubted he wanted to know what we thought of his superhero assignments. The way he glanced from Nina to me and back again suggested he was still trying to get a read on us. “Anyway, what are you two comic book characters up to?” he asked.

  Nina smiled for a sliver of a second, like it escaped her lips and she had to catch it before it sprinted away from her. Then she schooled her expression, but I could read between the lines. She was keeping our little tryst a secret, and relishing, too, that we were having one.

  Same here.

  I reveled in our secret.

  “I’m on my way to work, and Nina is too,” I said to Brandon, giving the simplest reply. “And to answer your other question, you nosy bastard, I’ve been staying with Nina for the last few nights, since my place is being painted. What’s up with you? I need to head to the car, so I don’t have long.”

  “Funny, I don’t either. I have a few meetings, then I have to pack because I happen to have a plane to catch . . .” He let his voice trail off, like he had something up his sleeve.

  “Where are you headed?”

  He took a beat. “To Vegas, as a matter of fact. And if you play your cards right, I just might let the two of you take me out for a night on the town. How’s that for generous?”

  I grinned. “That’s great that you’ll be here.”

  Nina leaned in close. “We’d love that. We’d be happy to see you. You have to join us.”

  “We?” Brandon’s eyebrows shot into his hairline. “Are you two a we and I’m just learning now?”

  The smile on her face disappeared instantly. She blushed, turning the shade of a fire engine. She pressed a hand to her cheek and stepped away from the frame, whispering, “Sorry.”

  No way. No way was I going to let her feel like she had to apologize.

  I told Brandon I’d be right back, then I muted the call and set down the phone on the entryway table.

  I closed the distance, cupped her cheek. “Nina, you have nothing to be sorry for.”

  She shook her head, like she was mad at herself. “I shouldn’t have said that. I shouldn’t have acted like we were a thing, or like we did things together.” It came out in a whisper.

  I tilted my head. “But we do. We do hang out together. And we will keep doing that. You know that, don’t you?”

  But her shoulders still radiated tension. Her jaw was set hard. I tucked a finger under her chin, raising her face. “We’re good. I promise.”

  She let out a long gust of breath. “Please know I wasn’t trying to suggest anything. It just came out. I guess because you’ve been staying here this week, and we got into a rhythm with the dinners and everything.” She laughed, but it sounded forced. “Anyway, I know we’re not a we. We’re just friends, and it will be so fun to see Brandon as friends.”

  She flashed me a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes, then she shoved my shoulder like a pal would do. “Go finish with Brandon. He needs you.”

  I swiped my thumb over her chin. “He’s doing well. I swear. Last time I saw him, he was definitely himself again.”

  “Good,” she said with a smile. “I’ve been hoping he would be.”

  “But are you okay?” I pressed.

  “I’m good. We’re good. I swear. I need to get ready for my client.”

  But were we good? Was she? I couldn’t read her. Couldn’t tell if she was covering something up.

  For the first time since we’d been friends, I wasn’t sure how to proceed. So I reverted to the other thing we were—temporary lovers. Leaning on that, I curled a hand around her head and whispered roughly, “I’ll see you tonight, and when I do, you’re going to get on your knees, just the way you want.”

  A tremble seemed to vibrate across her body. Her chocolate eyes sparkled. There. I’d restored our balance by focusing on the mission—her list. The decadent, fantastic list that I was lucky enough to work on.

  God bless women and their to-do-loving minds.

  Grabbing the phone, I headed for the door and unmuted it, returning to Brandon.

  Brandon stared, wide-eyed, like he was tapping his toe. “Oh, hi. How are you? Good to see you again. I did all my banking and taxes and emails while you were gone. So, ahem, what was that?”

  “What was what?” I asked, as if I didn’t know.

  His eyebrow rose. “That was, like, a minute-long conversation. On mute.” He tapped his chin, like he was deep in thought. “Gee, I wonder. Are you involved with her?”

  Pushing open the stairwell, I headed for the steps so I could have this talk in private, though I didn’t intend to tell him a single thing Nina had confided in me. Well, she’d only confided in me after I’d stumbled across th
e treasure map to her desire. But even so, she’d shared something private, and I wasn’t about to serve it up to anyone. If Nina chose to tell her friends, that was one thing. It wasn’t my info to share.

  “No, but I had something I needed to talk to her about that didn’t pertain to you. What brings you to Vegas? How long will you be in town?”

  “Didn’t ‘pertain’ to me? Aren’t you fancy?”

  I rolled my eyes. “Answers, man, answers.”

  “I arrive Saturday morning. Last-minute meetings at the big convention in town. Didn’t expect to be going, but alas, plans change. I’ll be there for a couple of days, then I’m heading to Los Angeles for a shoot. A commercial I’m doing for a watchmaker.” Brandon was a top-notch cinematographer, working for advertisers all over the world.

  “Need a place to stay here? Mine is being painted, but they should be done by then.”

  “I don’t want to cramp your style. I’m sure I can find some dingy cut-rate motel off the Strip.”

  I rolled my eyes. “The offer stands.”

  “Merci.” His expression shifted to serious. “Listen, if you’re not involved with Nina, what do you think about me—”

  “No.” One word. Sharp as a knife.

  He cracked up, pointing at me, laughing his head off. “You are so busted. The way you flew off the handle was brilliant. Does she know you’re secretly in love with her?”

  I bounded down the steps, scoffing at his assessment. He was wrong. Dead wrong. That feeling in my chest last night wasn’t love. It was . . . what was it? I snapped my fingers, finding the answer. Affection. Yeah, that sounded about right. Naturally I’d feel affection for a good friend. Not love. Besides, my heart was in time-out after Rose, and the clock hadn’t wound down yet. “First of all, I’m not in love with her. I’m not in anything with her. But I still don’t want you hitting on her,” I said.

  “And why’s that?”

  I wasn’t going to tell him the nitty-gritty, but I could still be honest. “Because you’re a layover. And she’s not that kind of girl. She’s not into hookups,” I said, confident that what Nina and I were doing was not a hookup.

  We were having a moment to work through her wishes.

  A bucket list was born out of need, not out of an itch to scratch.

  He lifted an eyebrow. “Then, once you do find the balls to make your move, you’d better make sure you’re not a hookup.”

  “Again, I’m not making any moves. She’s a friend. Just a friend.”

  He moved closer to the screen. “Sure, for now. But even through the haze of FaceTime, I can tell by the way you look at her. Don’t forget—I record emotions for a living, and yours are written all over your face. You might want to deal with that sooner rather than later.”

  “Thanks for the unsolicited advice,” I said robotically. “Please remember to check it at the door next time.”

  He smiled, a gregarious grin I knew well. “C’mon. It’s what I do, man. I tell you the truth because that’s my job. That’s what we do for each other. You’ve always called me out on my bullshit when it comes to women and work and life. Hell, how many times have you told me I need to move on?”

  I sighed heavily, letting go of my annoyance. How could I harbor any frustration when the man mentioned, even without saying her name, the woman he’d lost? The reason he’d hit on the gals from Montreal last year was he knew he wasn’t going home with them. He hadn’t gone home with anyone since his long-time girlfriend had died three years ago in a fatal car wreck. He’d simply covered up his pain with harmless flirting that went nowhere. But lately, he’d seemed better, happier, more together.

  I leveled him with a stare. “I say it because I want you to be happy again, you miserable bastard. I want you to find a sliver of what you once had.”

  “That’ll never happen.”

  “Do you really believe that?” I asked, hoping he’d say no.

  He just shrugged, and I hated that a part of him did believe it. I’d do nearly anything to help him find that place again where he could be happy.

  “Look, Brand. I get it. What happened was devastating, no denying that,” I said, because the man splintered in a million pieces when he lost Jenna. But he’d steadily been picking himself up, finding ways to enjoy life. Taking off to live in Paris was part of that, escaping from the memories of his life here in Vegas with his longtime girl. I missed him, but I’d hoped the new location was exactly what he’d needed to move through his grief. Only, I didn’t know if he’d truly made a life there. “And when you’re ready, you’ll be ready,” I added. “But I hope for your sake it’s soon, because it would be awesome to see you with a legit smile again.”

  He flashed another half grin. “I’m happy enough. And I’ll be happy for you when you face your feelings for your Robin. Or your Catwoman. Whatever she is to you. See you this weekend,” he said with a smile and ended the call.

  As I stared at the blank screen, I shook my head, talking back to the emptiness. “There’s nothing to face,” I said, and I believed it. I had to believe it. Feelings weren’t part of the equation. They couldn’t be. Nina didn’t want them. I was allergic to them. Besides, I didn’t want to play Batman and Robin with her.

  When I hopped into my Tesla, my phone dinged with a text message. I slid it open to find the painter updating me.

  David the Painter: We will be there shortly! We should be finished by tomorrow at the latest.

  I sent a quick thanks and pulled out of the garage, running through options this weekend for our regular crew of friends, plus Brandon. The club we all liked at The Luxe, a nearby pool hall, or maybe dinner at a swank eatery in The Cosmopolitan.

  Would Nina and I go out as clandestine lovers or friends once more? Would we be done with her list by then?

  My muscles tightened at the thought, but I shook it off as I headed into the office.

  Her list was full of items, and we’d tackle them all.

  Including number eleven.

  I’d find a way to make all her wishes come true.

  That was what I wanted for Nina. For my friend. The woman deserved the world. She deserved to know, too, that I was still the man she could trust, that I hadn’t run off and told Brandon anything at all.

  After I said hello to my employees, I shut my office door and picked up my phone.

  13

  Adam

  I tapped out a simple text.

  Adam: Hey you.

  Nina: Hi.

  Adam: I need you to know—I won’t say a word to anyone. What we did is personal. I’m not the type of guy who brags and you are NOT a conquest.

  Nina: Thank you. Also, I know you’re not that type of guy.

  Adam: But I do know you’re close to your friends, so if you want to share with them, I have no issues with that. I get that women like to share.

  Nina: Got it. I have the seal of approval to tell Lily and Kate you have a big d-i-c-k.

  Nina: Oops!

  Nina: Wherever did that naughty side of me come from?

  Adam: That naughty side is you, Nina. By the way, this morning was absolutely amazing.

  Nina: It was for me. But was it for you?

  Adam: Couldn’t you tell how much I loved it?

  Nina: I think, but in all honesty, I’m still figuring this out. Everything is new to me.

  I leaned back in my chair, rereading that, letting the enormity of her words sink in. Her question was normal, something any woman would ask of her man, and a man of his woman. But with Nina, there was a whole other layer. She didn’t have any history to compare me to. And I loved that. I craved being her first everything. And this was a first for her too—talking about what she’d done. Not only had she let me in, now she was letting me in her head in another way. And I wanted to honor that and give her what she needed too.

  Adam: Let me help you figure this out. You shouldn’t just “think” I loved it. I want you to be certain. Without a shadow of a doubt. Close your eyes and remember how I
stared at every inch of your exquisite body like a man possessed. How I devoured your perfect pink pussy like I was starving. Nina, I wanted my face covered in your juices. I still do. I could lick you all day. The only thing to figure out is how quickly I can get my mouth on your sweetness again, because I am rock hard right now.

  Nina: Well, that *does* seem to answer my question. Thank you for knowing what I needed. And thanks for making me need to go change my panties again because they’re soaked now.

  Adam: As they should be when you talk to me. And now that we’re clear on how I loved every single second of going down on you, I want you to tell me where your head is about last night, about this morning. I want to know how you’re doing.

  She didn’t respond right away. But the three flashing dots indicated she was typing, and considering how long they flickered, she must have been typing a lot. But when her reply arrived, it was short. To the point.

  Nina: This is where my head is—what do you think of me now?

  I sat up straight. Dragged a hand through my hair. Was she worried I’d think differently of her? That wouldn’t do.

  Adam: I think you’re beautiful and sexy, and I love that you know your own mind. That you want to explore your body. I love that you’re taking charge of your pleasure. And I feel like the luckiest man in the whole damn city to be the one to help you. Does that make it clear where my head is?

  Nina: I think so. Also, I can’t stop thinking about the table.