Get Lucky (16 page)
Authors: Lila Monroe
But hey, this is actual life. Kidnappers in balaclavas, breaking and entering to steal a parrot, all real. And in real life, you may not know exactly how something is going to go. You may not know in twenty-four hours exactly how the story will end.
But you can have a pretty good idea.
“The Bellagio’s beautiful at night,” I say, as we stop outside the gate and look at the fountain. The colored lights are flashing, turning the water brilliant aquamarines and violets as the spray erupts into the air. Nate stiffens for a second.
“What?” I ask, startled. He smiles.
“I think I remember something,” he says. Then he lifts my chin, and kisses me.
J
ulia’s laughing
, and I don’t remember why. All I know is it’s the sexiest damn thing I’ve ever heard.
“Come on!” she shout-whispers, running toward the fountain.
Shit. Part of me is afraid of getting caught. The hornier part wants to know if she’ll take her clothes off. Hornier wins out, as usual.
“We’ll get in trouble,” I say, walking toward her in a mostly straight line. Already she’s shimmying out of her skirt and stepping out of her heels. Next thing I know, I’m peeling off my jacket and unbuttoning my shirt. No way she is doing her
La Dolce Vita
naked routine without me.
Julia dips a toe into the fountain, then steps in, shrieking a little at the cold. The fountain is quiet. The show probably doesn’t start for another fifteen minutes or so. I get in after her, sloshing around behind her and grabbing her around her waist. She giggles, arching back against me and looking up into my eyes. I kiss her, running my hands along her breasts, down her body. She spins around and away from me, dancing a little.
“Come on, I wasn’t done yet,” I say, laughing as I move toward her. Julia flips her hair, curls bouncing down her back as she holds up her hands.
“I think this is it,” she says, wide-eyed with anticipation. “It’s about the right time.”
“For what?” I ask.
Then I have my answer. The spray soaks me. I admit it; I yelp, almost toppling backward.
Julia laughs wildly, kicking the water, dancing around as the jets shoot a hundred feet into the air. Watching her in the softness of the coming dawn, I’m transfixed. I’ve never met anyone so free.
“What do you think?” she asks me, twirling around. I walk over and fold her into my arms. We kiss, and she tastes like coffee and sugar, the bite of tequila still on her breath.
She smells like the desert sun, feels soft and warm and perfectly alive in my arms. She’s perfect. I look into her eyes, hold her against me.
“I think this feels good,” I tell her.
“Like a happy ending?” she asks, slurring the words a little. She tries it again, this time articulating the sentence perfectly. I kiss her.
“I don’t like when things end,” I tell her, as we watch the fountain rise higher into the early morning sky, our arms around each other. “Beginnings, though. Those work great.”
“
L
ast one
,” I huff as I race up the stairs and into the condo, two lamps in my arms. One is my very precious vintage Minnie Mouse lamp in her polka dot dress, which I sure as hell wasn’t leaving in Milwaukee. Nate comes up behind me, carrying a heavy cardboard box. His sleeves are rolled, his arms bunching with steely muscle as he takes the last couple of steps and kicks the front door shut behind him. Mmm. Steely muscle arms. Welcome home, indeed.
“Sure you don’t have anything else?” he asks as he sets the box down and stretches. “A dead body you had stowed in the trunk?” He leans against the wall, his magnetic blue gaze growing even
more
magnetic with sarcasm. But it’s one of the things I love about him.
One of many.
“I wanted to bring mine, but I was afraid it’d upset the
feng shui
of your house,” I drawl, putting the lamps down. I still can’t believe I’m living in any place as beautiful as a River North condo. We’re up high, the twentieth floor, and the lights of downtown Chicago are sparkling along the river. The first few times I came here, I didn’t really notice the view—Nate and I were pretty busy in the bedroom. But now that I’m an official resident, I have to admire it.
Nate’s place is very modern alpha businessman sparse, with high end walnut furniture, soft sconce lighting, and sleek black couches. Minnie Mouse is going to have to find just the right corner. But she will.
“Now that we’re done moving,” Nate says, as he crosses over and takes me in his arms, “maybe we should celebrate.” He kisses me, and it’s ridiculous how after all these months, I still melt just a little. I wrap my arms around his neck as his hands ghost down my body, toying with the edge of my skirt.
“What’d you have in mind?” I whisper as he runs his fingers up my leg, my skin electric beneath his touch. Up and up and up—
“Champagne?” he asks, instantly stopping his progress and letting me go. Winking, he moves towards the kitchen. I huff.
“You tease!” I say, and he laughs. A moment later, he’s got a bottle of Veuve Clicquet and two champagne flutes. Well, if we have to interrupt sexytimes, at least it’s for a good reason. He pops the cork, pours, and we sit on his ultra-sleek couch in this ultra-sleek condo in an ultra-sleek Chicago neighborhood. When we first started seeing each other, I was afraid my being so un-sleek would clash with the lifestyle. But I think a little Minnie Mouse, sparkly purple, and Bangles music was what this place needed.
“Cheers,” I say, as we clink glasses. I slip off my shoes and curl up on the couch, my head against Nate’s chest, his arm around me. We look out at the lights of the city and drink champagne. If there’s any better homecoming than this, I don’t want to know about it.
“You nervous?” Nate asks, kissing the top of my head. I was this morning, standing in my empty apartment with Shana in the car downstairs, waiting to drive me to my new life. I’m not now.
“Not at all. I even picked out my new writing spot,” I say, pointing to a leather reclining chair by the window. “There. That’s where I’m going to start my new series. High-profile lawyers battle it out by day and heat it up by night.”
“Let me know if you need research,” Nate says, as he starts kissing my neck. My toes curl. Oh, we’ll need all the research. Oops, careful. I almost spill my champagne. I laugh as I put the glass on the table.
“You’re a very manly muse,” I tell him as I lean back into his embrace. My fingers trail along the chiseled line of his jaw. “You ever stop and think how crazy it is that all this happened? If Mike and Stacy had picked any other date or place to get married, if the conference had been delayed by a week, we’d have never met.” I shrug as Nate’s arms slide around me. “Maybe it was fate.”
“I don’t believe in fate,” Nate says as he pulls me close and kisses me deeply. “But I do believe in luck,” he murmurs against my mouth, his lips just grazing mine.
Everyone goes to Vegas hoping they’ll get lucky. More often than not, they go home disappointed. Sometimes, though, just sometimes, you get lucky beyond your wildest dreams.
What happens then? You go all in.
THE END
* * *
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T
he Billionaire Bargain
Sexy Australian billionaire Grant Devlin is ruining my life. He exercises shirtless in his office, is notorious for his lunchtime hook-ups, he even yawns sexily. If I didn't need this job so bad, I'd take his black Amex and tell him where to swipe it.
He doesn't even know I exist, but why would he? He jets off to Paris with supermodels, I spend Friday nights with Netflix and a chunk of Pepperidge Farm frozen cake—waiting for his call. Because every time he crashes his yacht, or blows $500k on a single roulette spin in Monte Carlo, I’m the PR girl who has to clean up his mess.
But this time, it’s going to take more than just a fat charity donation. This time, the whole company is on the line. He needs to show investors that he’s settling down, and Step #1 is pretending to date a nice, stable girl until people forget about what happened with the Playboy Bunnies backstage at the Oscars.
My plan is perfect, except for one thing:
He picks me.
* * *
T
he Billionaire Bargain 2
It was a deal made in the boardroom and sealed in the bedroom.
It all seemed so simple: I pretend to be his fianceé, his company share prices stabilize, and everyone wins. It’s all just for show.
So why does he keep kissing me? And why do I let him? Grant Devlin is the bane of my existence — not the man of my dreams. But now the lines are getting blurred, and between the kissing and the champagne (and did I mention the kissing?) I’m getting way too comfortable as the future Mrs Devlin.
Something’s got to give, and it better not be my self-control…
* * *
T
he Billionaire Bargain 3
Last week I was in the penthouse with a sexy Australian billionaire. Now I’m back to Netflix Friday nights and leftover takeout. And it’s all my fault.
I’m the one who left the high life behind, and all because I couldn’t bring myself to go through with a sham marriage to my sexy boss Grant Devlin — because I went and fell in love with him for real.
I know, stupid.
Now he won’t talk to me, my job is hanging by a thread, and oh yeah, an evil plot to take over Devlin Media Corp means all my hard work could be for nothing. If we’re going to save the company, I need Grant’s help.
Help that doesn’t include hot sex in the copy room.
Wish me luck.
* * *
T
he Billionaire Game
Sexy playboy billionaire Asher Young goes through girlfriends like he goes through bottles of Moët. I would know — he brings them all to get fitted for my luxury lingerie designs. I guess that's one way to avoid awkward conversations when they find another girl’s panties in his Maserati.
Now he has a proposition for me: he’ll invest in my design business, and I’ll finally open the boutique of my dreams. There’s just one problem: I can’t stop kissing him. And he looks REALLY good naked.
Make that two problems….
* * *
T
he Billionaire Game 2
Who would have thought a month ago I'd be opening up my very own luxurious lingerie shop? Playboy billionaire Asher Young, that's who. And with his encouragement, and deep pockets (that look very good on the seat of his tight pants), my dreams are finally coming true.
The only problem is, my silent partner has turned out to be all mouth — and lips. And tongue.
Is he for real, or is this just another one of his flirty games? With my dreams on the line, I can’t afford to get played.
But when he touches me like that, all bets are off...
* * *
T
he Billionaire Game 3
I knew he was trouble.
You’d think the words 'Playboy billionaire’ would have been my first warning, but I went and fell hard for Asher Young. He said he believed in me and my lingerie design business, but it turns out, it was all just a game to him.
I never want to see his irritatingly-handsome face again. But how am I supposed to move on when he’s still my #1 investor?
I can’t decide if I want to slap him, or kiss him senseless.
Or both.
* * *
B
illionaire with a Twist
Billionaire Hunter Knox comes straight up – with a side of trouble.
Heir to a bourbon fortune, he’s hired my ad agency to save his family business. It’s my chance to win a star client and prove I can play with the big boys, until my one-night stand comes back to haunt me like the ultimate hangover.
Now I have to think up a killer campaign, and keep from falling into bed with Hunter again. Which is easier said than done when he’s the most handsome, arrogant, downright sexiest man
I’ve ever met.
I’m going to need another drink.
* * *
B
illionaire with a Twist 2
He’s dirty – no chaser.
Billionaire Hunter Knox hired me to save his family bourbon business: I’ve won the big pitch, but now trouble is only just beginning. I’m on a tightrope trying to keep my career from crashing out like a coed after a dozen jaeger shots, and I’ve made it clear to Hunter, our sexy one-night fling can't be repeated.
So what does the guy do? Turns around and starts dating my sister.
Pour me a double.
* * *
B
illionaire with a Twist 3
Warning: love on the rocks.
Sexy bourbon billionaire Hunter Knox hired me to turn around the failing family business, but I wound up losing him the company he loves. Now I have to make it right - which won't be easy when he's off the grid at a cabin in the woods, drinking himself into a sexy rugged stupor.
But if there's one thing I know, it's that Hunter is worth a shot. Or two. He better line them up, because after tonight, I'm never drinking again.
