One Night Stand-In (Boyfriend Material #3) - Lauren Blakely Page 0,62
clients, and on my existing projects at Bailey & Brooks.
It’s that simple.
The Design-Off organizers said it themselves—winning is a huge opportunity. It can open new doors.
That’s what I want.
Breath coming fast, I hit end on the elliptical, step off the machine, and begin a series of cool-down stretches.
When I’m done, I leave the gym, satisfied to have checked the workout off my to-do list. I did it solo too, since Amy is allergic to early Sunday morning exercise. I’ll probably see her later after I knock out some work.
That’s my plan for the rest of the morning after I shower, dress, and grab a bagel. Back at home, I do my best to avoid my bedroom.
Because I’m not sleepy, of course. I work in the living room, where I fine-tune some designs for Peter before I return to my presentation, digging in.
I focus on the project for a few hours, savoring the silence of my apartment. After I hit my goal for the day, I stretch, adding a contented sigh for good measure.
“I’ve got the whole day ahead of me,” I say to myself, since there’s no one else there to tell.
Just the computer screen and me.
Me and Photoshop.
That’s how I like it.
So I hop over to my project notes for a book cover I’m starting, a brand-new romantic comedy from Amy.
Staring at the spec sheet, I review the themes, mulling over how to present them—it’s a second-chance romance set against the backdrop of New York City.
Well, la-di-da.
That should be a piece of cake.
But as I consider the possibilities, I can’t quite settle on the right look. Should it be illustrated? Photographic? Perhaps a combination of the two?
I shoot a text over to Amy, seeing if she wants to chat.
Her reply is fast and furious.
Amy: Would love to see you later! Linc and I are going to Brooklyn to see the shopping cart races with Baldwin and James. Then I have to grab a drink with an agent who wants to send me an exclusive submission later this week. A new comedy! Gah! I love exclusive submissions, almost as much as I love shopping cart races. But maybe we can do something tomorrow?
Lola: Of course. Have fun.
I stare at the exchange, furrowing my brow, wondering why it feels empty somehow. This is a perfectly normal exchange with my friend.
My friend who is busy with her fiancé.
But that’s normal. It doesn’t bother me. So then what’s this spark of tension shooting through my shoulders, and why does my pulse spike with nerves?
That’s odd. Why would I be nervous or worried? I’m not an anxious person.
And yet, the quiet feels cloying, like it’s sticking to me, a perfume that’s lingered too long.
Maybe the strange presence is coming from the bedroom.
Nope. Don’t want to go there, literally or metaphorically.
In fact, I need to get out of here. And perhaps I need company—to discuss this cover with.
Peyton’s not in the same field, but no matter. She has a great eye for pretty things.
I fire off a text, asking what she’s up to.
Peyton: Tristan and I are taking Barrett and a friend to the movies later tonight. But first, inventory. Admit it: you’re dying to come to my store and help Marley and me with inventory.
I consider her note. Inventory? Sure. Sounds like a better way to spend the rest of my Sunday afternoon than avoiding the room where I started to let Lucas into my heart.
Note to self: inventory is the opposite of fun.
Fortunately, I arrive at the tail end of it.
The gals are nearly done—just cataloging one more item.
I hold up a silky red bra for Peyton and Marley. “How about this sexy thing?”
“Ooh, that’s a dazzling one,” Marley says, eyes widening as she gawks at the lingerie. “I wore something like that in sapphire blue last night.”
I take a closer look at the lace. “Come to think of it, this reminds me of the—”
I stop because I don’t want to say that out loud. It reminds me of Lucas, and what I wore last night with him.
A bra he couldn’t stop staring at. A bra I loved taking off for him when I stripped on the way to the shower. A shiver runs through me at the white-hot memory—the sweet agony of his touch and the exquisite sensations that raced through me when he kissed me everywhere.
The bone-deep connection I felt with the man.
I won’t belittle my heart by saying it was just sex.