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

by Blakely, Lauren

  Dad’s days with his new running club, training for a 5K.

  Mom’s time to garden, read, and relax.

  And perfume. Lots of perfume.

  Christine shot me a big-sister look as she squeezed my arm. “I know you have a ton going on, and it’s awesome. No one works harder than you. But you need balance. You’re working too much, Jake. I don’t get to see you. Carson wants to see you. He loves his uncle. He asks about you, wants to know when you’ll come by. He has a soccer game on Sunday.”

  That tugged at my heart.

  I loved that rug rat. I wanted to see him, play pinball with him, shoot hoops with the kid. Christine’s husband had died a few years ago, so I did my best to help out with her son, now eleven, when I could. “I’ll pick him up after school tomorrow and play pinball with him.”

  Christine laughed. “I’m not angling for a school pickup.”

  “Too bad. You got one. And I will go to his soccer match this Sunday. I promise. Forgive me,” I said, pressing my hands together in prayer as we wandered past an Obsession display.

  She smiled, adjusted her bun, then shook her head. “No apologies necessary as long as you try to relax and take a weekend off. You need some downtime. Can you get away from the office? Relax? You seem tense.”

  “Should I book myself a spa getaway?” I asked, teasing.

  But her gray eyes remained stern, knowing. “I mean it. Don’t work yourself too hard. That’s what Dad did.”

  “I’m not going to have a heart attack,” I said softly. “Or nearly die of one either.”

  “Let’s make sure of that. And that means doing something other than work. Can you just take a weekend off?”

  I sighed, dragging a hand through my hair. “Maybe,” I said, picturing the stack of contracts I needed to weed through tomorrow. But after that? “It’s possible.”

  “Do it,” she said, like a drill sergeant. “Have some fun. You’re seeing your friends tonight, right?”

  “Yep. We’re hitting Edge in a little bit,” I said.

  “And that includes Kate?” Christine lifted a brow in question.

  I stared at her inquisitively. Why did she single out the gorgeous brunette? “She’s usually part of the crew. Why do you bring her up?”

  She smiled coyly. “No reason.”

  I crossed my arms. “Bull. You always have a reason. Are you running a secret underground perfume ring with her?”

  Christine laughed. “No, but thanks for the new business idea. And, honestly, I’ve just noticed that you always seem to sparkle when you mention her.”

  I furrowed my brow. “I do not sparkle. I’m not a vampire.”

  Her eyes glinted. “But you know that vampires sparkle in Twilight. That’s adorable.”

  “That’s something everyone knows,” I said, defending myself once again. “Also, I don’t sparkle, period.”

  “Maybe a little sparkle?” She narrowed her eyes and held up two fingers, a sliver of space between them. “That’s what I told my girlfriends. That you sparkle just the slightest bit. They all think it’s endearing. A sparkly little brother.”

  I groaned. “Please tell me you aren’t telling your friends about me and trying to set me up again.”

  She dropped her mouth wide open in a who, me gesture. “Moi? I’d never do that. I prefer to push you directly toward the women I think are best for you.” She winked, then returned to her normal voice. “Anyway, I’m glad you’ll see her. Like I said, you light up when you talk about her,” she said, her word choice deliberate.

  “It’s not as if I’m a beacon of darkness when she’s not around.”

  Christine peered at me again, then tapped my forehead with her index finger. “True, but if this work-too-hard routine keeps up, I’m going to order you some Botox, since it looks like you’ve aged ten years. And let’s be honest, the ladies aren’t going to be that into you as a forty-year-old.”

  I mimed stabbing my heart. “Dig the knife a little deeper, why don’t you?”

  She grabbed the imaginary blade and happily dug around in my chest with a wide smile that stretched to her eyes. “With pleasure.”

  “Has anyone ever told you you’re sweet?”

  She shook her head. “Nope. No one.”

  “That’s what I thought,” I teased as she grabbed a tiny bottle that looked Parisian. She held it up for my approval. The name said Come What May.

  What the hell did I know about perfume?

  Nothing.

  But I knew sisters. And Christine wanted me to be involved in the gift-giving.

  I took the bottle, studied it, sniffed it, and declared it fine.

  “Great. Let’s get it for her, and we’ll give it to her next week.” As we headed to the counter, Christine wagged her finger at me. “And when Sunday rolls around, I want to see that you’ve given yourself some me time, Kate or not.”

  I scoffed at the notion. Guys didn’t need me time.

  Yet, I definitely could use a break.

  Maybe I was a little addicted to work these days.

  And I knew the cost, had seen it in my dad. Only recently had he started to prioritize health over work. While our situations were vastly different, I did need to be smart, to be cautious.

  Trouble was, work was my natural state. The only way to not work was to fill the time with something else.

  When I said goodbye to Christine, I made my way to The Luxe, thinking about how to keep busy.

  My mind kept returning to Kate.

  She’s been on my mind more often than not lately. I wasn’t sure when she’d commandeered her bit of real estate in my head, but there she was.

  Might as well send her a text.

  I took out my phone, tapping out a note as I walked.

  We traded messages about bets and gloves and hard asses, and as I read them over, a smile tugged at my lips.

  Maybe Christine was onto something.

  Talking to Kate was always a good time.

  And evidently, that was what I needed.

  4

  Kate

  With a smile courtesy of Jake’s texts, I popped open my lipstick tube in the ladies’ room.

  As I touched up the color, someone pushed hard on the door, and a gaggle of laughter followed as two women poured in. The bride and the maid of honor.

  “You have to do this,” the bride said, in that insistent tone women took with their besties.

  “But this is your weekend,” the maid of honor said, sounding apologetic.

  “It’s our weekend, Sidney. We’re out of town. And you’re single.” The bride waved her phone around. “You need to have this hottie to get David the Douche out of your system.”

  Yup. Called it. The bride wants to sprinkle sex magic on the maid of honor.

  I capped the tube and tucked it into my purse. In the mirror, the bride caught my gaze, asking me, “Doesn’t Sidney need this absolutely divine man?”

  Ah, the instant friendship afforded by the ladies’ room. “I’m going to need to see the goods before I answer that.”

  “Of course. Look. Just look.” The bride shoved her phone at me, showcasing a picture of a man in a tailored suit. Chiseled jaw. Dark hair. Mesmerizing eyes.

  “Why, yes,” I said, “I’ll take one of him too. Double serving. À la mode, please.” The guy was a ringer for Henry Cavill.

  “You can have him,” the woman said excitedly, emphasis on can.

  “Are you giving him away? Is he a party favor?” I asked with a laugh.

  The bride laughed, too, and shook her head. “You can order Antony from Sin City Escorts.”

  Everything clicked.

  This was indeed the extra fun kind of girls’ weekend. The kind involving male escorts from the local firm that had made a name for itself in that department. “Good choice. Sin City has the hottest men in Vegas. And many are especially good at getting an ex out of your head.”

  “See!” The bride practically jumped up and down, then she turned to me and grippe
d my arm. “Her ex was a dick. He cheated on her with literally everyone in Phoenix. I want her to use this weekend here in Vegas to forget him. Doesn’t she deserve this one?”

  The bride thrust the phone at me again, showing off the hottie she wanted to order for Sidney.

  Deserve.

  That was a potent word.

  Don’t you deserve a girls’ weekend?

  Don’t you deserve something special?

  Don’t you deserve this man?

  That could work in some girls’ night out marketing.

  Sidney sighed longingly as she stared at the image, hunger in her eyes. Then she shrugged happily. “Why not? Throw caution to the wind.”

  That was one more thing you could lose in Vegas.

  Worries.

  “Toss that restraint out the door,” I said in the spirit of things. “Use a condom, give consent, and then have the time of your life.”

  The bride grinned broadly. “See? She thinks you should do it.”

  “Do it,” I said.

  Once I left them to their adventures, my friends and I headed for Edge, our favorite club. A few minutes later, three men walked in, and my eyes arrowed right to one of them.

  Tall, dark, and handsome Jake. Jake with the cocky grin and bedroom eyes, the hard body, and the just-right amount of confidence. Never too much. He was the Goldilocks of confidence.

  My mind raced several steps ahead to a brand-new what-if.

  What if he were an escort? What would it be like to order him up?

  The man radiated not just sex appeal, but sexual intelligence.

  Like he knew things. Deep, dark, dirty things.

  Things I was damn curious about.

  Like he knew the answers to all my what-ifs . . .

  Except there were far too many complications to entertain those thoughts about Jake.

  He was a friend, a business associate, and a white-hot distraction.

  I hadn’t the time or space for the latter.

  Even though I couldn’t shake the thoughts now that they’d begun.

  5

  Jake

  The second I walked into the club, I knew for certain what I wanted.

  No. That was wrong.

  It was greater than want.

  It was what I needed.

  The same thing I’d wanted for the last few months.

  The same person.

  Kate Williams.

  In many ways, she’d been a mystery to me, and like in a good whodunit, I wanted to unravel her. Wanted to know what was going on in that gorgeous head of hers. She watched everyone, seemed to soak in details, to absorb everything she saw.

  She seemed, too, like the kind of woman who knew everyone’s secrets.

  Did she know mine? That I fantasized about her relentlessly? About telling her what I wanted to do to her, whispering sweet, filthy words in her ear about taking her up against the wall, bent over the bed, right here, right now. Hard, deep, primal.

  Anywhere, everywhere.

  Lust was a gift, but it could be an out-and-out annoyance too.

  Because the woman was, to put it mildly, hard as hell to read.

  Despite the regular texting, she’d given no real indication she’d be game for more.

  But sometimes I’d see Kate looking at me, checking me out, her eyes roaming up and down my frame. Fair play, I figured. I’d checked her out more than a few times.

  More than a lot of times.

  She was gorgeous, with lush chestnut hair, hazel eyes, and a face that could start wars—high cheekbones and full lips. Not to mention she had a stunning body.

  But none of that would matter without her brains.

  The woman was bright and clever. Unafraid to jump into any conversation, discuss any topic, toss out any question. That was the biggest turn-on of all—the boldness of her mouth and mind.

  Yet, for the last few months, the time had never seemed right to make a move—for many reasons. We were friends, we had a burgeoning business relationship, I’d been as busy as ten thousand beavers, and, well, the other one.

  Did she or didn’t she? If she wasn’t on the same page in the desire department, I didn’t want her to feel uncomfortable or awkward. So, I kept my eyes open for cues.

  Of the crystal clear variety.

  I hadn’t spotted any . . . yet.

  Tonight, though, I had my Kate radar on high alert as I weaved through the crowds at Edge with my buddies.

  Maybe they noticed I couldn’t take my eyes off the brunette.

  “Do you need some pointers on finally going for it with Ms. Williams?” The asshole remark came from my closest friend, Finn. He was also my business partner and, evidently, a mind reader.

  “How did you know what I asked for from Santa for Christmas?” I went with sarcasm, the only defense when a friend could see right through you.

  Adam clapped my back as we headed toward the women. “Bro, I don’t even know if good old St. Nick has enough time on his hands to read that kind of sad letter.”

  Finn met Adam’s eyes and nodded sympathetically. “It’s clearly up to us to help our sorry-ass friend.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Gentlemen, has it ever occurred to you that the timing might simply not be right?”

  Finn furrowed his brow and shot Adam another look. “Adam, has it ever occurred to you that Jake might be full of shit?”

  Adam stroked his chin thoughtfully. “It has, in fact, occurred to me. Like, right now.” He stared at me. “Just ask her out, man.”

  “You’re missing the point,” I said, because he was. There was no simple ask her out in this situation.

  “No, you’re missing the opportunity,” he said, no sarcasm now.

  His words gave me pause. Was I missing an opportunity?

  But the conversation ended abruptly when we reached the women.

  As we all caught up, I did my best to dismiss the peanut gallery’s—both the guys’ and my sister’s—unsolicited romantic advice. But that proved damn near impossible because my mind was on Kate. And I was in the mood to spend some time with her.

  Perhaps I needed to follow some of that unsolicited advice this weekend.

  Soon Nina and Adam hit the dance floor, and so did Finn and Lily. That left me and Kate.

  I flashed her a grin. “What’s it going to be, Williams? In the mood for a spin on the dance floor or a drink? Or do you have a secret hankering to bet on the ponies?” She smiled as I made my opening offer to assess her interest. But before she could answer, I held up a hand. “Don’t tell me. I bet it’s the horses.”

  Laughing, she shook her head. “You’d be wrong.” She glanced at the time on her phone. “I need to take off soon, since I have a meeting in the morning, but I can handle one round.”

  And that didn’t bode well for my chances, but I wasn’t going down without a fight.

  “Door number two, then,” I said. We headed to the bar and ordered gin and tonics, and as we waited, I asked what she was up to after her meeting tomorrow. “Friday night, that is,” I added, since that was the time on her schedule I wanted to occupy.

  “Depends on how much work I have to do over the weekend.”

  I affected a shocked expression. “Work over the weekend? Say it isn’t so.”

  “You’re one to talk. Aren’t you all work and no play lately?”

  I lifted a finger. “Was. I’m taking the weekend off, per my sister’s instructions. She made me promise I’d lay off the emails and contracts.”

  “And, being a good younger brother, you’re listening to her words of wisdom?”

  “But of course. And I think they should apply to you as well, Ms. Work All the Time. Make it a no-work weekend.”

  “Since you’re doing it, I should do the same?”

  “What a brilliant idea,” I said playfully, then I snapped my fingers like I’d just thought of a grand idea. “How about you help me while away the next two days? Maybe some blackjack, or some glow-in-the-dark mini-golf. Hell, we could g
o to the movies.” None of those options really felt like what Kate would want, but the suggestions might give my Kate radar a baseline reading. Besides, they were friendly options, and we were friends.

  “Let me get this straight. You want me to go whack a ball, play some cards, or see a flick so you have something to do on your no-work weekend?”

  I flashed her a huge grin. “Exactly.”

  “Dare I ask the next thing?”

  “What’s in it for you?” I supplied.

  Laughing, she nodded. “Yes, since you seem to be lining me up to be your Sunday Funday plus-one.”

  “Why, I thought you’d never ask. One, it’s on me. And two, I’m an excellent way to spend the weekend.” If I kept the invitation light and easy, I’d be good. I wouldn’t be pushing her in ways that might make her uncomfortable.

  Laughing, she shook her head. “You’re too much.”

  With an indignant huff, I answered, “Fine, we can do dinner too.”

  She knitted her brow, going serious in a second. “Like a date?”

  I had no clue how to read her tone. None whatsoever. Was she asking about a date because she wanted the same? Or because she wanted to know enough to turn one down?

  My radar was silent, so I stayed on the same path. “No. Like dinner. They serve food. You eat. It’s good.”

  She stroked her chin. “Hmm. Food can, in fact, be good.”

  “See? Now you’re getting the hang of hanging with me. I’ll make sure you’re well-fed.”

  “What more could a girl ask for?” Her expression shifted to focused, professional. “Seriously, though, it depends on how things go tomorrow. My schedule might be crazy busy, but if it’s not, it would be fun to see you this weekend.”

  See you this weekend.

  The radar beeped.

  Faster. Louder.

  Because those four words sounded like an opportunity of the golden variety.

  We clinked glasses and toasted to friendship, as was our custom.