Once she’d finished recovering, the endorphins would kick in and she’d be pumped about finishing such a challenging workout. Meanwhile, I considered the fastest way to peel her out of her clothes as she drank her water. It’d been four months since the best night of my life—when she’d said she loved me—and my desire for her had only gotten stronger over that time.
She’d written me six new songs too. More than half the album would be her words. The rest of the songwriting had been collaborations between us, or with Stella. I couldn’t wait to release it.
“Did you finish packing?” she asked.
“I packed my guitar. Do I need anything else?”
I was joking, but she was not amused. We were on a flight this afternoon to L.A., where I’d meet up with Stella and shoot the music video for ‘Power.’ It’d be the first single, and the hope was Stella’s accompaniment would launch my debut record.
Erika’s voice turned seductive. “Well, as much as I like seeing you perform naked, you can’t. That show’s only for me.”
She strolled to me and stroked a hand over my bare bicep. Just her touch made lust coil in my body, which was a problem. My gym shorts did fuck-all to conceal a boner.
“Yes, I’m packed,” I said. It’d been easy because I’d barely finished moving into my new apartment and was sort of living out of a suitcase anyway. I spent a lot of nights at her place.
Last night, we’d fucked in her hot tub, the steam rising from our bodies into the cold winter air. Afterward, I’d tossed some shock into the water out of habit. She’d hired a new guy to take over maintaining her pool and spa, but he was married and in his late fifties, and she said she’d make sure she’d keep his schedule in mind whenever she got the urge to sunbathe topless.
“So, what you’re saying is,” she drawled, “you don’t need to rush home.”
Had my session not been enough for her? My tone was skeptical. “You want to work out some more?”
A sexy smile burned across her lips. “Kind of.”
Oh.
Well, I was down. I was always down with her. Since no one else was in the HITT room, I put my hand on her ass and squeezed until her eyes lidded with desire. My voice was low. “What’d you have in mind?”
I was expecting her to invite me back to her place, but I wasn’t thinking big enough. My girl was full of surprises.
“I’m thinking about the time you kissed me against the mirror.” She pushed her hands up under my shirt, setting her warm palms against my chest. “How we both wanted to do more, but didn’t have time.”
My laugh was sinful and my voice full of sex. “We got time now.”
“So,” her fingertips trailed along my abdominals, tracing every inch, “if I asked you to fuck me in the dressing room, what would you say?”
I grinned. “I’d say yes, ma’am.”
I’d always say yes to her.
Thank you for reading! 100% of the profits from this anthology will be given to the Live A Thousand Lives charity.
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Thank you so much for reading THE POOL BOY! Want more from the scorching hot Nashville Neighborhood series? Grab THE ARCHITECT today!
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Other Books By Nikki Sloane
THE BLINDFOLD CLUB SERIES
It Takes Two | FREE
Three Simple Rules
Three Hard Lessons
Three Little Mistakes
Three Dirty Secrets
Three Sweet Nothings
Three Guilty Pleasures
One More Rule
The Blindfold Club Collection | Books 1-3 bundle
THE SORDID SERIES
Sordid
Torrid
The Sordid Duet
Destroy
SPORTS ROMANCE
The Rivalry
THE NASHVILLE NEIGHBORHOOD
The Doctor
The Pool Boy
The Architect
FILTHY RICH AMERICANS
The Initiation
The Obsession
The Deception
The Redemption
The Temptation
About the Author
USA Today bestselling author Nikki Sloane landed in graphic design after her careers as a waitress, a screenwriter, and a ballroom dance instructor fell through. Now she writes full-time and lives in Kentucky with her husband, two sons, and a pug who is more slug than dog.
She is a three-time Romance Writers of America RITA© Finalist, a Passionate Plume winner, a Goodreads Choice Awards semifinalist, and couldn't be any happier that people enjoy reading her sexy words.
Website: NikkiSloane.com
Goodreads: Nikki Sloane Author Page
Twitter: @AuthorNSloane
Facebook: Nikki Sloane
Instagram: nikkisloane
A Moment Like You
By Claudia Burgoa
To Karen, thank you for always being there for me and for your friendship. Love you.
"I love you. I knew it the minute I met you. I'm sorry it took so long for me to catch up. I just got stuck." – Matthew Quick
Sophia’s Prologue
I am the executive assistant of the man who happens to be the runner up to take over hell.
Where is hell? Surprisingly it’s not in some mystical place down under. Hell is better known as Baker’s Creek, a small town in Oregon just a couple of hours east of Portland.
Why is it hell?
Well, that’s where the Aldridge family settled back in the 1800’s. They’ve always been successful in their careers. However, their personal lives are a mess. They are damned to dwell into a loveless, angry, and disappointing existence.
The story of this family is fascinating. There are only six Aldridges left.
Thirty-some years ago, the philanderer, William Aldridge, spread his seed around the country. The cheating bastard had two kids with his wife and five out of wedlock. Pretty standard for a misogynistic asshole who thought he owned the world. Eventually, his wife dumped him, he neglected his seven children, and he lived alone until the day he died.
That should be the end of the story. Unfortunately for me, it’s the beginning.
So, the old man dies alone since he never cared about his children. He leaves a will and with it, he screws his six children—Carter, son number seven, died twelve years ago. They can receive their inheritance only if they abide by the stipulations. That includes that they have to live in his hometown for eighteen months. If they don’t, William left instructions to destroy most of the town.
Now, his offspring have to stay in hell—Baker’s Creek—for the next eighteen months. Sounds easy enough to do, but living among each other is a sentence of its own. They can’t stand each other.
Why am I involved?
Pure unadulterated bad luck. I’m pre
tty sure I walked under too many ladders. Maybe I broke one too many mirrors during my lifetime. I wandered across all the black cats in New York City…or simply, I was born unlucky.
What can I say about these men? Not much since I’m getting to know them too. All I know is that they are trouble!
Don’t let their hotness fool you, even when each are special.
Hayes, the doctor, and my best friend’s fiancée.
Pierce, the hot lawyer, and my other best friend’s estranged husband.
Mills, the hockey player, who I’d like to have in my penalty box—two minutes might be enough to melt the ice.
Vance, the broody, smoldering special forces guy—I want him to show me his tricks.
Beacon, the heartthrob musician—too young for me.
And I’ve saved the worst for last, Henry Lloyd Merkel Aldridge. The owner of Merkel Hotels and Spas. He also happens to be my boss. If Lucifer had a twin, Henry would be him.
All of them are hot. I’m pretty sure they were forged by a deity and given to their mothers as a gift for enduring William and as a punishment to the rest of us humans. They are not easy to handle.
The Aldridge brothers should all come with warnings like: dangerous, explosive, poisonous ...Too hot to handle, radioactive men, or addictive.
Do not approach.
They are so beautiful, you can’t stay away from them. And when you’re close, you’d want to run, but it’s too late. You can’t get away. I’ve been working on figuring out how to get rid of one and suddenly I find myself with five more.
Henry’s Prologue
Cyril Abbot Merkel, the guy who was not only my grandfather but my mentor and like a father to me, once told me, “The only way to make it in this world is by working hard and showing everyone who's the boss.
“You don’t need friends, Henry. You need allies—and watch out for your enemies. Always keep them close. The rest…they are here to serve you. Make sure they fear you. Once you try to be friendly with them, they’ll just take advantage of you.”
He always used my late mother as an example.
“Learn from her mistake,” he never got tired of repeating this same phrase again and again. In fact, those were his last words before he died.
But see, I’m the mistake.
My mother met William Aldridge—my father—when he was being groomed to take over Aldridge Enterprises. She had heard about him, but for most of his life, my father had lived on the west coast with his mother. Here’s a well-known secret among my people: This might be the twenty-first century but, in our world, marriages of convenience still exist.
We treat them like business transactions. A merger. We marry because of money or because of a name—prestige is important. We either become part of a dynasty or increase our net worth.
Love…well, that’s a messy transaction, and many of us choose to stay away from it. I’ve never been married, but I have acquaintances who are attached to a significant other. Yeah, sure, for a lot, our way of living sounds cold. But, it’s practical. If someone can’t deal with their wife, they get themselves a mistress. Most likely the wife is fucking their best friend, her yoga instructor, or some random guy she met while shopping.
Debra Merkel, my mom, was known as a cut-throat businesswoman. She was cold, calculating, and assertive. She knew that marrying William would be the best move of her career and would benefit her company. My father was hard to catch. A lot harder than she anticipated.
She played all her cards until she found herself desperate and—she thought a baby would convince him to take the ultimate step. Mommy dearest swore she had everything under control until she found herself pregnant with the child of a man who wasn’t interested in marriage—at least not with her.
Sure, he bought her a penthouse across from Central Park and pretended to be a hard worker and devoted boyfriend. He was never with us.
I was around eight when she found out that he had played her. He already had a wife and two children from that marriage. But there was more. He had seven children in total. Debra’s son, Henry Lloyd Merkel Aldridge, was one of the bastards—me.
Well played, William.
“You can’t trust anyone, Henry. The only person you can count on is you,” Grandpa would repeat. “The day I die, you will own everything my grandfather built and I’ve procured. The day your father dies make sure to claim your part and build an empire.”
Cyril Merkel died four years ago, and I became the sole owner of Merkel Hotels and Spas. I continue his legacy and keep building a bigger empire. Every year, I make sure Merkel adapts to the needs of our guests and the world.
I didn’t think much about William nor was I expecting him to leave me anything when he passed away.
It feels like an eternity since I heard the news that he died, when it was only a few weeks ago when it happened. I never had a good relationship with him. He was a difficult man and a terrible father. Every person who did business with him swore that he never lost. Every move he made was well planned, and whoever tried to cross him paid for it.
There was never a way around him. If he set his eye on something, it always got done the way he strategized it.
After his death, I thought it was the end of him. How foolish of me. It was just the beginning. All of a sudden, the brothers I barely acknowledged came back into my life. The money I don’t want is waiting for me.
Here is where things get interesting though. In order to get my cut of this giant inheritance, I have to move from New York City to his hometown. Thanks to the Merkel fortune, I don’t need to stick around.
It’s not that easy. While my father might’ve been a fucking asshole, the man was brilliant.
And he always played to win.
There’s more at stake than just his money. If any of his sons walk away, he destroys the livelihoods of thousands of people. William wasn’t only heartless but vindictive. I’m still wondering what it is that we did to him.
He had seven children. None of us asked to come into this world. We only wanted his attention, and we only got his rejection and now his punishment.
I tried to be heartless, to say fuck him and everyone else. My brother, Hayes, worked hard to convince me to stay. That guy cares too much. He spent weeks talking to each of us, trying to persuade us to take a leap of faith. So here I am moving to the middle of nowhere Oregon, in a town called Baker’s Creek where I have to live for the next eighteen months with my brothers so I can claim an inheritance I don’t want and save a town I don’t give a fuck about.
For years I lived by myself. Now, I share a house with my brothers, Beacon, Vance, Mills, his son Arden, Pierce, his wife Leyla, Hayes, and his fiancée Blaire. Daddy dearest stipulated that we should be there with our significant others too. Thank fuck I’m not emotionally attached, or this would be a circus.
While I’m at it, I have to save my father’s businesses and play nice with my brothers. We can barely stand each other.
I have no fucking clue how these eighteen months are going to play out. I tried everything within my power to make this go away. There’s nothing I can do. I already tried disputing the will, paying his lawyers to change it, and ignoring the situation and everyone who is involved with this mess.
Nothing worked.
Sophia
I busted my ass my entire school career, including graduate school, so I could be the delivery girl for fucking Henry Aldridge. I am two minutes from giving up everything and…well, I don’t even have a plan b.
What happened to chase your dreams and don’t stop believing?
When I finished high school, I swore that I’d find my passion. A career that wasn’t solely rooted in gaining money. One of my biggest goals was to create a path that would fuel my inspiration. Poor young me. I was naïve, filled with hopes and dreams, and wore a pair of rose-colored glasses.
Confession time. I studied hospitality and business because I wanted to earn money and travel around the world. By the time I was declaring my majo
r, money had become important. I now work for the biggest hotel conglomerate in the world, but instead of traveling somewhere in the Caribbean, Europe, or even Fiji to ensure our employees follow the operational standards that corporate sets, I run errands for my boss and now his brothers.
For the past four weeks, I’ve commuted from Manhattan to Baker’s Creek. Some weekends I stop in Atlanta, Denver, San Francisco, Seattle, or Vancouver before I arrive in Portland. Because everyone forgot to bring something important from home.
My friends and family wonder why I haven’t quit my job. It’s not as simple as handing in my letter of resignation. I can’t afford to just quit. I have too many expenses. My debt is just as big as the national deficit.
Have I tried to leave Merkle? Several times.
I find jobs that are a shoo-in for me. Places where I can make a difference. This is how it usually goes—I pass the first two phone interviews. The final interview is either a videoconference or in person. Whoever interviews me almost hires me on the spot. They promise to call me soon. A few days later, they either call to apologize that they filled the position internally, or they just never call back.
If by some miracle they grant me the position, Henry gives me a bonus to persuade me from quitting and then reminds me that no one will pay me as well as he does. My checking account agrees with him. If it wasn’t for him, I’d be declaring bankruptcy and selling my organs to get by.
Just because he pays what I need and then some, it doesn’t mean I don’t loathe the man. He drives me crazy. No one should be surprised that while I’m on the phone with him, I’m doodling stick men and stabbing them with my pen a million times while he says...
Love Me Like I Love You Page 114