Not Just Friends (Hot in the City #3) - T. Gephart Page 0,27

that transgression would’ve been all on me.

Wasn’t sure it wasn’t worth the risk.

“Wait?” She grabbed my arm, her hand stopping me from leaving. “Tomorrow morning? You guys finish at like what? Seven, eight? I’m not going to be coherent that early. I’m going to be at Diablo tonight until three.” Her head shook, thinking something as minor as a locked door was going to be a roadblock.

Not. Likely.

Especially not if I had permission.

“Your brother has a spare key, I’ll let myself in. You won’t even know I’m there,” I offered, thinking it was less invasive than just breaking the door down.

Her hand didn’t let go, keeping me from moving. Little did she know, I was in no hurry to go. “Yeah, because that doesn’t sound creepy at all. You’re going to just let yourself into my apartment and wait until I wake up? You going to watch me while I sleep too?”

“Is that what you want?” I asked, having no problem with that scenario. I’d probably enjoy it a lot more than she’d think too. “I tell you what, have a think about it and leave me a note. It will be a test on how good I am at following instructions. And I know how much you love giving them.”

“Leighton, we’ve got to go,” North yelled from down the road. We’d already loitered longer than we needed to and if we didn’t get back soon there’d be all kinds of questions.

“See you in the morning, Presley. Don’t forget that list.” My head tilted to where her hand was, her grasp relaxing.

Her nod lacked her usual confidence, a mumbled, “bye” tossed my way before catching the light which had changed again.

And with her heading on her way, I had no reason not to be on mine, turning back to where North, Evans, Rev, and Tibbs were all assembled, waiting for me.

“Leighton, the other engine already left.” Rev shook his head. “What were you doing?”

Tibbs eyes cut to mine, the expectation all over his face. “She cool?”

“All good, brother.” I clapped him on the shoulder, trying to convince myself as well. “I’ll explain everything when we get back to the station, but she’s agreed. Oh, and another thing, I’m going to need her spare key.”

He didn’t even ask why, a relieved smile breaking out across his face. “I owe you. Now let’s get back before Cap and Chief both blow a gasket. We’ll just tell him the rookie needed to take a piss.”

“Hey!” Evans objected, the evil look spelling out he wasn’t taking the fall. “Cap saw Leighton walk off, you guys aren’t pinning it on me.”

I rolled my eyes, popping open the door to the engine and jumping in. “Let’s just get back. It’s probably going to be a long shift.”

Presley

YOU’D THINK SUNDAY nights would be easy, but not in Manhattan. It was just another night, the club packed to capacity, the hours just as long. Add to that the information Raelle had so helpfully dug up, and it was an interesting night.

Scott Collins had decided to spend more of his daddy’s money. He and a few of his—beautiful but not all that bright—friends had conspired to buy a club in L.A. and turn it into the biggest celebrity haunt on the west coast.

Morons.

The lot of them.

Firstly, none of them—and I’m talking about seven successful actors, some who had a few awards on the mantel—had any kind of industry experience. Unless you counted frequenting clubs and bars, they were all completely oblivious. And if that weren’t enough of a deterrent into dropping a whole bunch of cash into an investment that had a high chance of failure, none of them had any business experience either.

Nothing.

Not even a fundraising campaign when they were all freshman at Beverly High.

Zip.

Instead, they were a crew of young, sexy, and privileged white guys whose good looks and connections—and sure they had some talent—got them onto our screens. And when they weren’t on their daytime drama/recurring series/B Grade movie/streaming service original/token hot guy in the blockbuster, they traveled in packs, drinking and partying. Posting pictures on their social media and living their best lives. Guys would give their right arm to trade places, while hordes of women wanted to fuck them. And for someone like me, they were an easy mark.

They only bought top shelf or exclusive, not even bothering to check the amount on their tab before closing it out with a thick black Amex. Their tags and check-ins provided advertising that money couldn’t buy,