One Night Only: An After Dark Standalone in The Extravagant Series

by Lauren Blakely

She’s not wrong. My good friend from back in the day is pretty much the definition of sex symbol, with his indie-rock style of music, his broody green eyes, and his voice that seems to drive everyone wild. Add in the album he released a few years ago and the face that’s been on tons of magazines, and yes, millions have a crush on him.

  I nod. “Stone.”

  “One-name-only Stone?” she asks, repeating, like she has to make certain who we’re discussing.

  I laugh. “That’s the one. Though he has a last name.”

  “Do you know it?” Her tone is dripping with curiosity. “No one knows Stone’s last name.”

  I shrug, smiling. “I do.”

  She grabs my arm. “Spill, Callum. Spill.”

  I crack up. “Your nails are digging into me, woman.”

  She growls like a cat. “Don’t try to pretend I’m hurting you. You know I’m not. But you’re hurting me now, since you know Stone and never told me.”

  I shrug, loving this little game. “Grew up with him. We’ve been friends since way back when.”

  “You and Stone on the mean streets of San Francisco?”

  “We didn’t live in Cow Hollow or Pacific Heights growing up. We were in the Mission, making ends meet. I had to look out for him.”

  “How’d you look out for him?” Her eyes widen in question, but his secrets aren’t mine to share. His childhood was rough. His dad was a closed-off, small-minded asshole who didn’t understand, or even try to understand, the artistic soul inside him. One of the many reasons he dropped his surname, and changed his first name.

  “I’m a couple inches taller. A little broader. And I didn’t study music. Kids were assholes, so I looked out for my friend.”

  “That’s sweet. You’ve always been a protector,” she says, and there’s a momentary lull in the conversation when the redhead and her guys stand and leave. Ivy watches them for a few seconds, then pulls her gaze back to me. “But you never told me you were friends with him. You’re in trouble.”

  I laugh. “It never came up.” I look at my watch again. “He’s in town for a family thing. I’m seeing him tonight. Meeting him at a bar off the Strip.”

  Her eyes pop this time, and she sputters, “He’s the buddy you’re having drinks with?”

  “He is indeed.”

  She draws an excited breath, then brings her hand to her mouth and whispers reverently, “Rumor is he’s almost done with his new album. But he’s so notorious for his personal life that sometimes people forget he hasn’t actually put out new music in a couple years. I would kill to have him onstage for our kickoff concert.” She takes a beat, her lips curving up in a grin. “But you have to know a guy to get a guy like him . . .” She drags her finger across the table, her eyes twinkling. “And do I know a guy, Callum?”

  “Ivy Carmichael, are you saying you want to have drinks with Stone and me?”

  She tries to school her expression, maybe to momentarily hide her excitement as her eyes spark with possibility. “Callum Blackwell, are you saying you’re going to introduce me to Stone tonight?”

  I lean back in the booth, tempted, so tempted to slide an arm around her, to loop my hands through her hair. Instead, I keep things on the level. “I’m saying that Stone and I grew up together and I’m supposed to be meeting him after I get you upstairs to your suite. But maybe I could text him to meet us here for an introduction first?”

  She lets out an excited breath. “I could kiss you.”

  Just like that, all my thoughts return to kissing her. To the way I want to kiss her. To how I want her to melt under my touch, to succumb to my lips. I want to know how she tastes, feel the way she moves, discover who she is behind closed doors.

  Because I have a feeling . . .

  Trouble is, all these feelings might take over my sense of right and wrong, my duty to look out for her—and that is my priority. It has to be.

  I try to erase the look of hunger I know is in my eyes right now as I text my longtime friend.

  Callum: I’m at Speakeasy. I’m with Ivy Carmichael, and she wants to meet you. Yes, she owns this hotel.

  His reply is immediate.

  Stone: I love meeting new people. Especially women you have a thing for.

  Callum: Did I say I had a thing for her?

  Stone: Let’s call it a lucky guess. And since you just sidestepped but didn’t deny it, I’m right.

  Callum: Asshole.

  Stone: Back atcha. See you soon.

  I set my phone down. “He says he’s looking forward to it.”

  She smirks. “That’s a lot of texts for a few words, Callum,” she says, and this time my name sounds like an invitation on her tongue. I’d like to RSVP with a hot, wet kiss.

  But I focus on business, on helping Ivy. Because if I can help her arrange a show with Stone, it’ll help her with the new marketing campaign she has planned.

  And that matters to her heart—because all of this, the revamp, is her way of honoring her parents, who died far too soon, before they could do all they wanted with this hotel.

  She’s taken that on with her sister, carrying it out.

  And maybe, just maybe, I can help.

  4

  Stone

  I can’t fucking resist.

  It’s not in my nature.

  The second I see my buddy with a gorgeous beauty, I have one mission and one mission only. Hook him up.

  Hook him all the way up.

  He’s hot for her, and I bet she’s keen on him.

  How could she not be? He’s the coolest cat with the biggest heart. And the ladies have always loved him.

  Ergo . . .

  I smack my bodyguard’s arm as we head to Speakeasy. “Bet me, Jackson. I bet I can get Callum to take her home.”

  The retired Marine, who still sports a short, trim cut, shakes his head, grumbling. “You’d do well to stay out of other people’s personal lives.”

  I roll my eyes. “Nope. Not my style. Can’t do that.”

  “Of course not. Leopards don’t change their spots.”

  “C’mon, J-Man. Don’t you like my spots?”

  His face is impassive as he ignores me, scanning the joint, making sure I can get to Speakeasy without any crowds chasing us. The SUV dropped us off at the security entrance, and everything is looking good.

  I pretend to check out my spots. “I think my leopard spots are hot AF. I bet plenty of others do too.”

  “As if you need more adulation.”

  “I will take all the adulation I can get,” I say as we head into Speakeasy, toward the private room in the back. My tone goes serious for a few seconds, something it rarely does. “You want to join me? My bud’s in the protective services business too.”

  Jackson shakes his head. “I’ll stick to doing my job.”

  He stands guard by the entrance to the private room, arms crossed over his chest. Man, if I could get this guy to break, it’d be a goddamn miracle. Maybe someday. Until then, I have other chords to strum.

  “See you soon, handsome,” I say, just to get his goat. I gotta tease him, since the man doesn’t crack a smile often.

  I weave my way through the back room, knowing Jackson will make sure the crowds don’t find me. They haven’t yet, because the man is damn good at his job.

  Callum spots me in a second and stands, clapping me on the shoulder. “Good to see you, man.”

  I bring him in for a bro hug, then my eyes do a very happy dance when I see the beauty by his side. The one, the only, the heiress. And she is fine. “And that’s enough of you,” I say, and turn to the blonde. “Whoever do we have here?” I ask, as if I don’t know one of America’s wealthiest women.

  The woman in the curve-hugging black dress rises. “Ivy Carmichael. Pleasure to meet you, Stone.”

  She offers her hand, but I don’t shake it. Instead, I plant a kiss on top of it. “Charmed.”

  “Likewise,” she says with a smile.

  I swear Callum grumbles under his breath.

>   I scoff, looking at my bud, flashing my megawatt smile, the one that makes panties melt all over the globe. “Don’t worry, Cal.” I swat his arm. “I know she’s yours.”

  Ivy blinks. Callum narrows his eyes and gives the slightest shake of his head.

  But he knows me. He can’t have invited me here with her if he thought I’d keep my trap shut.

  Impossible.

  And this man knows me better than anyone. Knows me because he had my back growing up. I’m more than six feet now, but it took a long ass time to get here. Being a late bloomer can suck it. And I’m grateful I had a tank for a friend back when I was a target for my size and my poetic, vulnerable nature, as all the teachers in high school said.

  I sink down at the table, stretch out my legs, and spread my arms across the back of the booth, my well-worn T-shirt riding up a bit. As I settle in, the server appears.

  “What can I get for you, sir?” the man asks. “On the house, of course.”

  “In that case, a sixty-year-old Macallan would be fantastic.”

  Ivy flashes a smile. “If that’s what you want, you should have it.”

  I laugh. “Just kidding. I’ll take a Macallan on the rocks.”

  The man says he’ll be right back, and thirty seconds later, he is. I give Ivy an approving nod. “Consider me insanely impressed. I see you have the best service.”

  “We do indeed,” she says.

  I lift my glass and offer a toast. “To old friends and new ones.”

  “I’ll drink to that,” Callum says.

  He clinks back, and Ivy does the same.

  I knock back some of the scotch, savoring the taste, wiggling my brows as my taste buds thank me.

  “How long are you in town for?” Ivy asks.

  I flap my arms like wings. “I take off tomorrow morning.” I drop my voice to a whisper. “I’m staying at the Bellagio tonight.”

  She narrows her eyes, making a playful growl. “No, you’re not. Stay here. I’ll arrange for our best suite. It would be my pleasure.”

  I grin. “I won’t say no to that.”

  “Good. And what brings you to town?”

  I inch closer. “Truth?”

  “Is the truth interesting?” Ivy asks, keeping up the volley easily.

  Callum laughs. “Is it truth, or is it fiction? You never know with this guy.”

  I heave a dramatic sigh. “I came to town for my grandma’s birthday party. An epic eightieth birthday party, and it was incredible. Now I’m here tonight with one mission and one mission only.”

  “To agree to a one-night-only show here at my hotel?” Ivy asks, and I blink. Because hot damn. This woman goes for it.

  But I was not expecting that.

  “I hope it doesn’t bother you that I asked, but I know it’d be great for both of us,” she says.

  “And I hope it doesn’t bother you that I invited Ivy along so she could ask, but I know nothing bothers you,” Callum says with a smile.

  I stretch my arms out wide. “I am the definition of chill. Nothing gets to me,” I say, though that’s not true. Not making music is the one thing that always bothers me. Struggling with creativity hurts my soul. But I’ve turned a corner, and I’m nearly done with my next album—which is why Ivy’s question intrigues me.

  “So, what do you think, Stone? Because I’d like to make you an offer you can’t refuse,” she says.

  I whistle, then smack Callum. “No wonder you’re hot for her, Cal. She just lays it on the line.”

  “Stone,” he grumbles. “Really?”

  I scoff, toss back some more scotch, then set down the glass. “As if she doesn’t know.” I sit up straight and meet the blonde beauty’s gaze. “Ivy, you can tell, can’t you?”

  “Tell what?” Her question is ever so innocent.

  I turn to Callum, shaking my head. “You should just kiss her. It’d make everything easier.”

  He scrubs a hand over the back of his neck. “Why did I invite you over here?”

  I cross my arms, egging him on. “Yes, why did you?”

  “I believe it was to convince you to say yes to a show here,” he says, his tone serious now as he leans forward, elbows on the table. “Ivy has something fantastic planned for The Extravagant’s reboot. And when she mentioned you’re the musician she wants most to kick it off, I said I’d do everything I could to get you to say yes.”

  Since he’s being earnest, I zoom in on the details. “I’m listening,” I say and zero in on the woman of the hour.

  She straightens her shoulders, taking a breath. “My parents passed away a few years ago.”

  My heart lurches for her. “I’m so sorry.”

  “Thank you. But truth be told, it was hard before then. My father was battling cancer, and my mother was taking care of him. So, their attention understandably lagged. We lost focus here at the hotel. We didn’t upgrade. We didn’t devote our resources to it. Our concentration was on my father. And all the care he needed took a toll on my mother too. She had a stroke a few months after he passed away.”

  “Oh, Ivy. I’m terribly sorry.”

  “Thank you.” She swipes a hand under her eye. “I’m not saying this so you’ll feel sorry for me. But I want you to understand what this place means to me. They left the hotel—well, all the hotels—to my sister and me. This is the one we grew up in, though, and this is our home. It needed work, and we decided to renovate. To take on all the changes we knew our parents had wanted to tackle. I’m so proud of The Extravagant now, and thrilled with the new look. To kick it off, we want to throw a series of one-night-only concerts. I love ‘Make It Last.’ It got me through so many hard times, and to have you sing it would be a dream come true.”

  My heart squeezes. Hell, I want to say yes. I want to be the guy to help her out. But the media’s been hounding me about my next album. And I need to make sure this will be positioned the way I want.

  “I want to say yes, but you know what the media will say. They’ll frame it as my comeback. But hell, I never left. The muse just takes time.”

  “Then let’s not frame it as a comeback.”

  “I don’t know how it would be viewed any other way. And the rub of it all is this—I have plenty of new material. I just want to control the message. I want it to be about the music, not about me.”

  “So, you’re keen on it?” she asks, and her voice is laced with excitement.

  Truth be told, I’m more keen than I expected. But I also sense an opportunity. To help out a friend.

  I slide right back into shit-stirrer mode. I arch a brow and lick my lips. Then I look at my bud. “I bet if I agreed to play here, she’d kiss you.”

  I let that tantalizing little nugget fall on the table.

  Just to see if they’ll pick it up.

  Maybe I’m an asshole.

  But I can read this guy. I can tell how he feels about his client from the things he’s said over the last year, how protective he is of her, how much he admires her, and how he wants to keep her safe.

  I know where he’s at.

  And I know, too, since he’s a guy with lines, a guy with rules, that he won’t cross them unless he gets a kick in the pants.

  It just so happens I give excellent kicks in the pants.

  Ivy shoots me an oh no you didn’t stare. “Are you actually making me the stakes in a bet?”

  Have I offended her? Oops.

  “Seriously. What the hell, Stone? That shit isn’t cool,” Callum says, but his gruff tone seems to excite Ivy. She nibbles on her lips, looking at Callum, and he stares back at her like the world is on fire and he doesn’t care.

  I lean back in the booth, cross my arms, and wait for these two to see what’s in front of my eyes.

  5

  Ivy

  I’m not going to be a plaything. I haven’t built my reputation as a businesswoman on being a pawn in a man’s game.

  I won’t kiss for a deal, no matter how much I want Stone to perform, and no matter how devil-may-c
are charming the rocker may be. I won’t be waylaid by games. This is business.

  I swallow the rest of my drink, focusing on the steel heart my parents instilled in me. “Stone. I appreciate the cupid in you. It’s adorable.” I slide into full-on hotelier mode. “But let’s talk about this as a win-win for both of us. I love your music. I always have. And I hear you when you say this wouldn’t be a comeback. I get that, I respect that. You don’t need to relaunch. But The Extravagant does.” My tone stays intensely serious. “I would frame it as our comeback. Not yours. This hotel needed a change, so we took it on. And this is how I want to let the world know we’re back in business. By bringing one of the most talented musicians in the world to our stage.”

  Stone scratches his jaw. “So you wouldn’t bill it as my return or anything?”

  I shake my head. “Not at all.”

  For a few seconds, nerves flicker across his green eyes, maybe even vulnerability. And in that instant, I can see the naked poet’s soul in him. I can see that he masks some hurt, some fears, with his swagger and his million-dollar smile, with his ink and the wild lifestyle I’ve read so much about in the tabloids.

  “Are you sure?” He sounds so young when he asks, and Callum leans in closer, as if he’s protective of this man. “People say it is. When I saw my dad, he said I need a comeback. That I took too long doing nothing. He never understands.”

  Curling a hand over his shoulder, Callum shakes his head, his tone intense. “He’s wrong. And don’t you ever forget that you did what you needed to do these last few years. You needed inspiration. You took your time. You traveled the world. Hell, you gave a ton of money away to orphanages in the cities you visited. You’re a good man. Your dad is wrong and always has been.” Callum raps his fist on his friend’s sternum, and the tenderness, the protectiveness, between them tugs on my heart. “You’ve got it.”

  A lump forms in my throat. I love seeing this reassuring friend side of Callum.