Overnight Service (Always Satisfied Book 4)

by Lauren Blakely

  I don’t want to do anything but get close to her.

  Closer than I’ve ever been.

  I reach for her leg, hitch it up, and move deeper. I rock into her, filling her, fucking her, making love to her.

  This time, we are quiet.

  We don’t talk.

  We muffle all our sounds with kisses and swallowed groans. With moans and murmurs. And with contact. Every time her breath hitches, she circles her arms tighter around my waist and grabs me harder.

  I do the same, moving in her, taking her, and bringing her to the edge once again.

  She parts her lips, and I know she’s about to unleash a gorgeous feral moan to the heavens. I know she can’t control it, and I love that she’s unraveling so beautifully.

  But I know, too, that she won’t want a soul to know what we’re doing. I cover her mouth with my palm, bring my lips to her ear, and whisper, “I got you. Just let go.”

  She gasps and groans against my hand, writhing beneath me, coming so damn hard I can’t hold back any longer either. I bury my face in her neck, swallowing all my sounds, all the words, everything I want to say to her.

  But it’s not like keeping it quiet is going to change a damn thing.

  She has to know I’m so ridiculously in love with her; I can’t think about anything else.

  That’s what this day has made clear.

  And that’s why, once she’s fallen asleep in my arms, I leave.

  23

  Josh

  Dear Alicia,

  Thank you so much for inviting me here for the weekend. You are an incomparable hostess, and I am grateful for your hospitality.

  I appreciate you including me in the consideration for Jackson. He’s lucky to have someone like you in his corner, someone so tenacious and passionate. He’s going to have a long and prosperous career—I mean that in all honesty, and as I said, honesty is a key trait in an agent. He’s also a great guy. Every now and then, an agent gets to represent someone who’s a genuinely good person.

  But that won’t be me.

  I’m excusing myself from the running for his representation for entirely personal reasons.

  And I’ll be cheering him on from the sidelines.

  All the best,

  Josh Summers

  24

  Haven

  Blinking, I sit up in my ex’s bed. It’s empty.

  I curse him silently for being gone.

  But maybe he’s in the little boys’ room?

  I pad across the floor. Nope. No Josh.

  Do I want to conduct a furtive search for him on the premises?

  I spot a white slip of paper on the pillow, and with nervous fingers, and a trembling heart, I unfold it.

  Haven,

  Call me sometime. Sometime soon. Like, maybe after you win this client, since I know you’ll nab him.

  Also, when you call me, I’ll tell you why I left. It’s not what you think.

  I know you want to win fair and square. Trust me, when you do win, you will have won because you deserve it.

  Until then, don’t take too long to find me in the dark.

  Josh

  25

  Josh

  Dom Pinkerton stomps through the gardens at his house in Greenwich, Connecticut, where I’ve been summoned.

  Summoned at eight in the morning on a Saturday.

  When I texted him in the middle of the night and told him I was bowing out, he told me: Get your ass to Connecticut like you’re in the Batmobile. I gird myself for the biggest dressing down of my career.

  His pool-ball head is shiny and pink. He’s been sweating as he tends to the orchids, shouting at an orange flower. “Do you know what I hate more than losing a client?”

  “No, sir,” I say, bracing myself for an epic lashing.

  He flaps his arms, pointing to the gardens. “Losing an orchid. Look at these beauties. Look at my babies.” He gestures tenderly to a flower with delicate orange petals. “This here is Polly. Polly is a Cattleya Sierra Doll. A hybrid. She’s as close to perfection as you’ll get with orchids. And right now, I should be talking to Polly, nurturing her, growing her. Instead, what am I doing?”

  “Talking to me, sir.”

  He huffs. “So, why the hell did you think it was a good idea to recuse yourself? This is getting to be a habit with you, isn’t it?”

  I wince but take it on the chin. “Seems it is, sir.”

  “What’s your goddamn reason this time? Is it about a woman again?”

  I lick my lips, take a breath, and answer him. “Yes and no.”

  “It’s awfully convenient to hedge your bets like that.”

  “It’s both.”

  “Get it together, Summers. Last time, you excused yourself from a vote on a promotion because you had”—he stops to draw air quotes—“‘feelings for Haven.’ Translation: you were in love with her, and I fucking knew it.”

  I’m speechless for a moment because I didn’t think he knew how deep it went. All I’d said was I cared for her. I’d never said we had a thing. I’d never said I was in love. But maybe I didn’t have to.

  Maybe it was more obvious than I thought.

  “I do have it together.” I mean it completely. “This was a calculated decision.”

  “Oh, it was? And how’s that?” He crosses his arms.

  I take a beat, waiting for regret to wash over me. Nope, the wave doesn’t come. I don’t regret walking away from a client I didn’t court, didn’t chase, didn’t crave.

  That has nothing to do with Jackson and everything to do with me. “Because I didn’t want it badly enough.”

  His jaw ticks. “Information that would have been helpful yesterday, so I could have reminded you of all the reasons you ought to want this. Like this one: because it’s your fucking job to want it.”

  That’s the problem. My job ought to be motivation enough. I love my job. Love it to the ends of the earth and back. But I love something else more. And I can’t get excited for new work the way I used to. I can’t focus the way I used to.

  And that’s a problem I need to fix. But I couldn’t fix it with her in the same room, same house, or the same space as me.

  “I understand why you’re upset, sir. But here’s the issue: I walked away from it because I wasn’t invested the way you’d want me to be. My focus was elsewhere, and I don’t regret stepping down from contention. Do you regret it when you don’t give your orchids all the attention they deserve?”

  “Of course,” he says with a derisive scoff. “But we’re not talking about my orchids.”

  “But we are, in a way. Likewise, do you regret it when you spend a weekend away from your wife when you could have been with her?”

  His eyes narrow, and he lifts his chin. “What are you getting at?”

  I sigh deeply. “You want me to regret this decision, but I don’t. If you’re going to fire me, then fire me.” I hold my hands out in surrender, but I feel no sadness. “The fact is, I had to drop out. So I did.”

  He growls. Literally growls. “What are you going to do next? I mean it. What the hell are you doing next? I count on you to chase new business. I depend on you to win clients. You’re my goddamn top agent, and I need your closing skills. But you didn’t close this weekend. You kicked open the door and walked the hell out. That can’t happen again, Summers.”

  “You’re right. It can’t.” For the first time, I completely understand negotiation on a personal level. He who’s willing to walk away has all the power. I’ll walk, and I’ve never felt that way before.

  That’s why I need to regroup.

  Because no one tells you that when you fall for a woman who turns your heart inside out, you’ll turn your world upside down for her. “I need a few days to get things sorted out. I need a break from work.”

  “No shit you need a break.” Then he waves a hand. “Get out of here. If you don’t plan on pulling this crap again, you can show up next Monday. If you don’t, thanks for all the money you made me
. Now leave, so I can talk to Polly.”

  I catch an Uber into the city and tell Jason he’d better be at the park in an hour because I need his advice.

  Badly.

  Because I didn’t tell Dom the whole story.

  My boss doesn’t need to know everything. He’s never needed to know everything. But I’m finally being honest with myself, and here’s the piece I never would have admitted before, the twist I never saw coming.

  I want her to win.

  I want her to beat me.

  I wanted it the second I heard the end of her conversation with her assistant about Girl Power, and even more when she told me how close she is to the next step in her dreams.

  I’m the guy who has an endless capacity in the competitive compartment, and yet the compartment is empty when it comes to her.

  Or really, it’s full.

  Because I want her to have every damn thing she dreams of, and I have to play my part in making that possible.

  We run around the Reservoir.

  “I’m having a hard time picturing this,” Jason says. “You literally just walked away in the middle of the night? Over a woman, so she could win the deal?”

  “Yes,” I say as we cruise around the water.

  “Yes?” he blurts. “Yes? Yes? Yes?”

  “Yes.”

  “I don’t get it. You love your job like you’re married to it, yet you didn’t care about winning the hottest rising star on the market? Where is my friend Josh, and what did you do with him?”

  I shrug as we round a curve. “Didn’t care. Not one bit. Still don’t. Don’t you see? That’s the issue, man.”

  “That’s not the only issue.” Jason can’t seem to get past my uncharacteristic forfeit. I get it—I’ve never walked away from a game, a bet, or a deal I could close. I go balls to the wall on everything. Except last night. “How exactly do you plan on paying those pesky little things known as bills?”

  “Dude, I’m not leaving the business. I just left that . . .” I wave a hand in the general direction of the Hamptons. “That scene.”

  He shoots me an inquisitive stare. “A scene that no longer interested you?”

  “Exactly.” I slow my pace and heave a sigh. “I didn’t want to win the client anymore. I wanted her to win. That’s the problem—all I can think about is her.” I rake a hand through my hair. “All I want is her. She’s this constant, persistent presence in my head, in my heart. I can’t compete for deals and clients against this woman. I want to hold her and keep her and never let her go. Do you have any idea what that’s like?”

  He stops and levels me with a stare. “Yes. Yes, I do. Not precisely like that, but I absolutely know what it’s like to want someone so much. So I married her, and she’s having our baby in a few weeks.” He clasps a hand on my shoulder. “But what’s your plan? How are you going to navigate work and Haven? Are you just going to drop out of every deal, every race? You vie against her a lot. I’m worried about you, mate. And I never worry about you.”

  I look up at the sky then back at him, searching for an answer I don’t possess. “All I know is I can’t work in this in-between state anymore. And I can’t be cooped up in a house on the beach where all I want is to be with her but can’t. Last night, I had zero interest in the schmooze. And you know me.”

  He smiles. “You love the schmooze.”

  “Love it like it’s a game-winning homer in the World Series that’ll activate a bonus clause. But I didn’t want to go mano a mano with her for a client. I can’t and I won’t, and I’m done with it.”

  He raises his arms heavenward. “Every now and then, a man achieves complete clarity.”

  But that’s precisely the problem. What do I do with this clarity?

  Jason has to take off for an appointment, so I turn to my next set of reinforcements.

  After all, sometimes you need a woman’s opinion on the finer details of love.

  Fortunately, I have access to a trio of fairer-sex advice-givers, and all three love doling it out freely to their big brother.

  I start with Amy, texting to see if she’s available to chat. She tells me yes, but she’s been saving the world with Quinn, so I’ll get two sisters for the price of one.

  I find them at a board-game café in the Village that afternoon, huddled over a table in the corner, working to stop the spread of disease in Pandemic. “Have you found the cure yet?”

  “Working so damn hard on it,” Quinn says then stands and holds out her arms. “Come to the wise ones.”

  I give her a hug then give Amy the requisite noogie before she tells me she has to use the little girl’s room. My youngest sister takes off.

  Quinn gestures to the couch. “I hear you need advice. But listen, the key to rescuing humanity is to work together to solve problems, so you can be a medic if you want. I’m a quarantine specialist. And Amy is a researcher,” she says handing me a white pawn.

  I flop down next to her on the weathered couch and join in the game play, hunting for a cure for four diseases that threaten Earth.

  After a few minutes, Quinn looks up from the board, her sage-green eyes twinkling. “So, you’re all good?”

  I laugh. “Yeah, I just came here to join you in your let’s all hold hands board game.”

  “Some things require cooperation, not competition. Also, don’t knock Pandemic.”

  “Pandemic is cool. But I need a little more than game-play advice.”

  “Ah, you have need of feminine wisdom,” Quinn says, like she’s a fortune-teller. “Please. Tell me your tale of male dumbassery.”

  “How do you know I was a dumbass?”

  “Gee. Lucky guess?” Quinn flicks her auburn hair off her shoulders; takes a long, thirsty drink of her tea; then makes a rolling gesture with her hand. “Proceed.”

  “So, there’s this woman . . .”

  Amy returns, slamming a palm on the wooden table. “Haven!”

  “Wait. I know what happened,” Quinn adds animatedly, playing up the soothsayer role as she flings her palm to her forehead. “You botched it like only you can?”

  I heave a sigh. “I should have requested another audience with Jason for this sort of ribbing.”

  They both rearrange their features, acting more serious. “Tell us everything you require us to fix,” Quinn instructs.

  I give them the SparkNotes version of the last few weeks. The PG SparkNotes version. Then I share what I said in the note I left Haven. “So, was that note so bad?”

  Quinn answers immediately. “Yes.”

  “Why? It was . . . heartfelt.”

  “It was half-assed,” Quinn corrects. “Don’t ask her to come to you. Women don’t want that. They want you to go to them and lay it on the line. Seriously. Haven’t we trained you better than this?”

  “In hair. You trained me in hair.”

  “And did that do any good?”

  I flash back to last night, smiling. “It did some good.”

  Quinn shoos me in the direction of the door. “Then leave us and go tell her you want to braid her hair for the rest of your life or something.”

  Sounds about right.

  But when I call Haven, she doesn’t answer. She’s probably still engrossed in pitchapalooza.

  When she doesn’t respond for a few hours, I go to her place.

  Only, she’s not there.

  Because my doorman calls and tells me there’s someone in the lobby waiting for me.

  Someone by the name of Haven Delilah.

  “Why don’t you let her know she’s on the list? You can give her the spare key and send her up.” Then, with a wry grin, I add, “Tell her I’ll be there in twenty minutes, so she won’t have much time to rifle through my things.”

  26

  Haven

  This calls for a new entry in the rulebook. Rules for what’s next.

  First, I need to get back to Manhattan stat. I consider a helicopter. Googling the price, I recoil. That’s ridic expensive. A car will do just fi
ne.

  Along the way, I write down my one new rule.

  Find him and tell him everything.

  Yes, everything. That everything.

  27

  Josh

  It doesn’t take Sherlock Holmes to deduce she’s ticked off.

  She stands in my kitchen, arms crossed, tapping her toe. Yet, even in her mad-as-hell mode, she steals my heart.

  She seems to do that every day.

  “What the hell, Summers?”

  “What the hell, what?” I ask, tossing my keys on the entryway table. But I don’t move. I stand my ground, since she clearly doesn’t want me any closer.

  She waves to my apartment. “Why the hell am I on the list?”

  “That’s what you’re starting with? You want to know why you’re on the list for my building?”

  “Well, I spent twenty minutes snooping and all I found were some towels from Target. There wasn’t even a good watch anywhere.”

  I lift my wrist. “The watch is on me. And Target has good towels.”

  “I know. I love Target. Everyone loves Target. Also, the bathroom is nice, and I needed to pee, so thanks for the permission to check everything out. But enough about that.” Her jaw is clenched hard, and her folded arms tighten. “Why am I on the list?”

  “I put you on it a year ago and never took you off.”

  “Why?”

  A laugh bursts from my chest as I toss her question back at her. “Why do you think?”

  She fumes. “Second, why did you . . .?” She stops and waves her arms like a duck flapping away from the water. “Why the hell did you do that at Alicia’s house? Just take off like that? This feels like last time all over again. You bowed out.”

  “Is it the same as last time?” I arch a brow. “Did I just bow out? Is that truly what I did? Also, hello? Did you get him?”