Most Irresistible Guy
Page 1
Most Irresistible Guy
Lauren Blakely
Contents
Copyright
Also By Lauren Blakely
About Most Irresistible Guy
Most Irresistible Guy
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Also by Lauren Blakely
Contact
Copyright
Copyright © 2018 by Lauren Blakely
LaurenBlakely.com
Cover Design by © Helen Williams
Photo: Wander Aguiar
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All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners. This ebook is licensed for your personal use only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you are reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return it and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the author’s work.
Also By Lauren Blakely
Big Rock Series
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Big Rock
Mister O
Well Hung
Full Package
Joy Ride
Hard Wood
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One Love Series dual-POV Standalones
The Sexy One
The Only One
The Hot One
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Standalones
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The Knocked Up Plan
Most Valuable Playboy
Stud Finder
The V Card
Most Likely to Score
Wanderlust
Come As You Are (April 2018)
Part-Time Lover (June 2018)
The Real Deal (Summer 2018)
Far Too Tempting
21 Stolen Kisses
Playing With Her Heart
Out of Bounds
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The Caught Up in Love Series
Caught Up In Us
Pretending He’s Mine
Trophy Husband
Stars in Their Eyes
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The No Regrets Series
The Thrill of It
The Start of Us
Every Second With You
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The Seductive Nights Series
First Night (Julia and Clay, prequel novella)
Night After Night (Julia and Clay, book one)
After This Night (Julia and Clay, book two)
One More Night (Julia and Clay, book three)
A Wildly Seductive Night (Julia and Clay novella, book 3.5)
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The Joy Delivered Duet
Nights With Him (A standalone novel about Michelle and Jack)
Forbidden Nights (A standalone novel about Nate and Casey)
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The Sinful Nights Series
Sweet Sinful Nights
Sinful Desire
Sinful Longing
Sinful Love
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The Fighting Fire Series
Burn For Me (Smith and Jamie)
Melt for Him (Megan and Becker)
Consumed By You (Travis and Cara)
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The Jewel Series
A two-book sexy contemporary romance series
The Sapphire Affair
The Sapphire Heist
About Most Irresistible Guy
When he wrapped his arms around me and pulled me close at my brother’s wedding, my heart beat faster. When we danced into the night, my mind raced far ahead, entertaining all the possibilities I’d longed for. And later, when Cooper told me he’d won the starting quarterback job before he shared the news with anyone else, I started to believe we could be more.
But I didn’t want to lose him as a friend, so I chose to focus on him solely as my buddy. That worked well enough for a while.
Until that night, in front of everyone, when he shocked my world to its core.
Most Irresistible Guy
A prequel novella to Most Valuable Playboy
By Lauren Blakely
1
I can’t stop staring at the best man.
As I walk down the aisle, strains of classical music rising in the church, my eyes are inexorably drawn to the man next to the groom.
That tux. That crisp white shirt. That bow tie.
Most of all, that smile. A grin I’ve never gotten over.
Clutching a bouquet of yellow tulips, I march. Hundreds of pairs of eyes are watching. Smiling. Tears welling.
Everyone loves a wedding.
My gaze is firmly fixed on the best man, the way the tux fits him, how it’s snug against his toned, muscular frame, how his soulful brown eyes lock with mine.
Oh, God.
He’s looking at me.
He’s staring.
My heart skids in my chest, pounding painfully against my rib cage as his gaze lingers on me, like he’s taking a stroll up and down my body as I approach the altar. With every step I take, tingles spread down my bare arms, and for several brief and torturous seconds, I let myself imagine I’m walking to him, and he’s mine.
Mine to link arms with. To hold hands. To brush a kiss to his cheek.
This is a game I play now and then. I can’t resist in this moment, even though I’ve learned how to live with this riot of emotions in my chest, like a flock of birds soaring to the sky all at once.
I learned to live with this wild sensation in my chest because I have to.
Cooper Armstrong isn’t my man.
Instead, he’s my best guy friend, and he’s my brother’s best friend, too.
He’s someone I’m incredibly lucky to have in my life. He’s supportive, and caring, and funny, and so damn easy on the eyes. When I reach the front of the church, I smile at him, then at my brother Trent, the groom. I take my place across from the best man. We turn as the wedding march begins and the bride glides down the aisle to marry my brother while I steal glances at his best friend.
When the vows are exchanged and the rings are slid on and when the groom kisses the bride, we all cheer. A wave of happiness rushes over me for my brother. He’s marrying Holly, the love of his life. They walk back down the aisle as husband and wife, the crowd standing and clapping for the newlyweds.
Cooper and I follow, arm in arm.
He leans in close, his lips dangerously near my ear. A shiver runs through me, and I try to hide it so he won’t know how he affects me, how he’s always affected me. “Save a dance for me, will you, Violet?”
I give him a playful little smile, so he knows he’s my friend, not the object of my desires. “I’ll see if there’s room for you on my dance card,” I say, adding in a wink for good measure.
“Then I’ll do my best to monopolize it.”
He can have every single dance if he wants to,
but I can’t let him know that. I’ve been friends with him my whole life, and there’s no way I’ll jeopardize that for the dark-horse shot of something more.
2
For the record, I’ve crushed on Cooper for a long time.
Okay. A crazy ridiculously long time.
Fine, let’s call a spade a spade. Decades. Nearly two decades. After all, he was my first ever crush way back when I was in second grade.
Yup, I’m that girl.
But, in my defense, he is adorable.
And sexy.
And fun.
And sweet.
And smart.
He’s the right mix of a little bit cocksure attitude, a lot of charm, and a canyon of determination. Plus, he’s a total gentleman.
It’s impossible not to like him.
My crush that launched in second grade only intensified when we were teenagers. I might have enjoyed watching him work out on the football field in high school. I definitely liked the view when he took off his shirt. And sure, I’ve imagined what it would be like to kiss him, countless times.
But I’ve always kept my emotions in check. We’re friends. Great friends. We’ve watched movies together, gone for runs along the water, broken bread at his mother’s house. We’ve gone out with friends and sung karaoke together as a group—my brother and Holly, Cooper and me. For the record, I am most excellent at crooning “Sweet Child O’ Mine,” and Cooper kills it at anything Bon Jovi. We’ve also crushed it duet-style to Human League’s “Don’t You Want Me,” and the irony of the title isn’t lost on me.
We know how to have fun, and we’ve relied on each other over the years the way old friends—good friends—do.
Translation: I’m a big girl, and I’ve learned to live with this unrequited crush.
I’ve never even tried to requite it. He’s too important to me to let words spill of how I feel. It’s easier to be like this, like friends.
“Slice of cake?” I ask later that night as I grab a delicate china plate that’s home to a mouth-wateringly fantastic-looking slice of wedding cake.
Cooper pats his belly. “I’m watching my figure.”
I pat his stomach, too. Flat as a board. Tight as a drum. Delicious as candy. I mean, I bet it’s as delicious as candy and as lickable, too. “You’re right. If you have even one bite, you’ll puff up, and you’ll be sacked in the first game.”
He rolls his eyes playfully. “Violet, don’t be silly. I have to play to get sacked.”
“You’ll play. Sooner than you think.” We sit down at the head table. My brother and his wife are circulating and chatting with other guests, so it’s only the two of us right now. “Jeff Grant can’t play forever.”
Cooper scrubs a hand over his square jaw. “Some days, it feels that way. But I just have to keep waiting.”
“You do, and it’ll be worth it.”
Jeff Grant is the starting quarterback for the local NFL team, the San Francisco Renegades. He’s also one of the game’s GOATs, as in greatest of all time. The veteran quarterback has three rings, impeccable statistics, an eye-goggling winning percentage, and a sterling reputation for coming back in crucial moments, including bringing the team from the brink and pulling out an astonishing fourth-quarter win in last year’s Super Bowl after a fourteen-point deficit with ten minutes to play.
He is great. There is no debating it. As football fans, we’re truly spoiled to have him helming the team.
But even so, I still want this guy next to me to be the one in the pocket, calling the shots, scanning the field, and marching the team down it, leading the Renegades to victory because I know that’s what he can do.
“It seems hard to believe now, but Father Time will eventually catch up with Jeff. Just keep being patient,” I reassure him.
Cooper shrugs. “Who knows when that’ll happen.” He flashes a smile, letting me know he can’t let his bench-warming status bother him. He’s learned to be cool about his backup status. Drafted two years ago in the first round, he’s hardly seen any playing time because Jeff Grant is not only amazing, he’s also durable. It’s been frustrating for Cooper to watch Jeff take all the snaps, but he’s learned to be patient, too.
“Soon,” I say, as I take a bite of cake. “Your time will come sooner than you think.”
“For now, I’m learning everything I can from the best.” His eyes turn fiery, blazing with the kind of intensity I know he shows on the field. “And when I’m called up, I’ll be more than ready.”
“You will. Now, tell me what you’re learning,” I say, diving into the dessert for another forkful.
“You want to know what I’m learning from watching Jeff?” Cooper’s lopsided grin is deliciously sexy and quirks up at the corner of his lips, almost as if he doesn’t really believe that I want to know.
I tap his forearm. “Yes. I do. You know I love game talk.”
“That’s true. You have an endless appetite for football conversations. You could have been a sports talk host.”
I shudder at the thought. “I detest sports talk shows.”
He laughs. “Me, too.”
I stare at him pointedly, drumming my fingers on the table. “Well? Are you going to tell me stuff? Or is it top secret?”
Laughing, he leans closer to me. Closer than I’d expect him to be. Anticipation weaves through me. “I’ll tell you, but you can’t tell a soul,” he whispers, his breath ghosting over my skin, goosebumps rising in its wake.
Damn body.
I want to tell my libido to calm down. But when Cooper inches near me and turns up the flirting dial, I don’t know how I can rein in the hot, tingly tremble that’s threatening to run through my entire body, just from being near him.
I can smell his clean, woodsy scent. His aftershave. His minty breath. I want it all, but I can’t have it so I practice my best I’m-cool-with-this skills, the ones I’ve needed my whole life. “Oh, is this your secret playbook?”
“I’m learning strategy, confidence, but also some amazing new plays.” His eyes blaze as he talks, and the golden flecks in his brown eyes seem to shimmer with excitement.
This is his playground, and he loves it.
I do, too. I can’t help myself. A rabid football fan, my love of the game is a part of me, and I can feel it in my bones. My passion comes from the strategy, the angles, the myriad ways the game can be played. I love trying to figure out what type of play a team will execute, how the defense will respond, and what risks the players are willing to take. Cooper and I talk about that as I nibble on the cake. As he dives into some of the plays, his eyes sparkle more, his expressions become more animated. I savor moments like this, to enjoy these conversations with my good friend.
He shakes his head, amused, when I ask about a particular play-action fake strategy.
“Did I get the question wrong?” I ask, curious why he’s laughing.
“No. You had it right. All of it. It’s impressive.”
“What can I say? I’m a junkie. I’ll probably be more of one when you’re the starting quarterback. I’ll be cheering the loudest.”
“At every single home game?”
I nod. “Consider it done.”
“Yeah?” He says it almost as if he doesn’t quite believe I’d be there.
“Of course.”
A slow smile spreads across his handsome face, lighting up his features. “I’d like that.”
I nudge him with my elbow. “You’d like that because you’d be the starting quarterback.”
“Yes. But I’d like it because I like it when you come to the games.”
My heart sits up, looks around, wonders if he really said that. If it meant something more. “You do?” I ask, my voice feathery.
“I always have. I like playing for you, Vi. You’re my favorite spectator. Even back in high school, I got a kick out of knowing you were in the bleachers.”
My heart stutters, tripping a switch in me, the one that longs for him. I distract myself with another bite
of cake. “Too bad you’re too busy watching your figure, because this cake is delicious. You should consider giving in to temptation.”
He quirks an eyebrow. “You think I should?”
There’s something borderline flirty in his voice. Something I ought to ignore.
“You should.” Using the fork, I point to the cake. “This is heaven.”
“Damn. You’re making it sound too appealing.” He grabs the utensil, dives into the cake with it, and takes a bite. He groans as he chews.
The sound of it is carnal, masculine, and too damn sexy for my own good. I should not be turned on by the sound of him eating a bite of cake.
But yet, here it is. A pulse beats inside me.
He sets down the fork with gusto. “And now I’m going to dance off this cake.” He takes my hand and pulls me up.
“I’m dancing it off, too?”
His gaze travels up my body once again, like it did at the ceremony. “You’re perfect. But I still need you to shake it up, baby.”
Baby.
Holy smokes, he just gave me an affectionate nickname. And he called me perfect. I’m not at all, but I adore his compliments.
I don’t have time to soak them in since he guides me to the dance floor where we shake and shimmy through some fast numbers.
“Are you dancing off that one dangerous bite, Cooper?”
“Absolutely. Can’t you see me get trimmer as we speak?”
A slow song begins, and I half expect we’ll do that thing people do when they wander away from the dance floor.
But that’s not what happens.
3
He slides in closer to me, setting his hands on my waist. “You weren’t going to take off for the slow song, were you?”
My throat is dry. My pulse hammers. “No.”
“Good,” he says, his voice soft, and the gentle sound of it makes me freeze, my arms in mid-air.
I know I need to put my arms around his neck, but I haven’t been this close to him since prom. Cooper Armstrong was my date at prom. He was a freshman in college, I was a senior in high school, and he came back to town for that weekend. I’d been planning on going with my boyfriend but the guy broke up with me shortly before the big dance. Cooper swooped in and saved the day. He said he didn’t want my dress to go to waste. He wanted me to wear it and to have a good time. I wound up having the best time with him.