The Seductive Nights Novellas Read online

  THE SEDUCTIVE

  NIGHTS NOVELLAS

  Lauren Blakely

  A COLLECTION OF

  THE NOVELLAS IN THE SEDUCTIVE NIGHTS

  SERIES: FIRST NIGHT, ONE NIGHT WITH HER,

  AND A NIGHT OF SEDUCTION

  Copyright © 2015 by Lauren Blakely

  LaurenBlakely.com

  Cover Design by © Sarah Hansen, Okay Creations

  Ebook formatting by Jesse Gordon

  All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book. This contemporary new adult romance is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners. This ebook is licensed for your personal use only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with, especially if you enjoy sexy, emotional, romance novels with alpha males. If you are reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return it and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the author’s work.

  ALSO BY LAUREN BLAKELY

  The Caught Up in Love Series (Each book in this series follows a different couple so each book can be read separately, or enjoyed as a series since characters crossover)

  Caught Up in Her (A short prequel novella to Caught Up in Us)

  Caught Up In Us

  Pretending He’s Mine

  Trophy Husband

  Playing With Her Heart

  Standalone Novels (Each of these full-length romance novels can be read by themselves, though they feature appearance from characters in Caught Up in Love)

  Far Too Tempting

  Stars in Their Eyes

  21 Stolen Kisses (May 2015)

  The No Regrets Series (These books should be read in order)

  The Thrill of It

  Every Second With You

  The Seductive Nights Series

  First Night (Julia and Clay, prequel novella)

  Night After Night (Julia and Clay, book one)

  After This Night (Julia and Clay, book two)

  One More Night (Julia and Clay, book three)

  Nights With Him (A standalone novel about Michelle and Jack)

  Forbidden Nights (A standalone novel about Nate and Casey)

  The Sinful Nights Series

  Sweet Sinful Nights (Brent and Shannon, June 2015)

  Sinful Desire (Fall, 2015)

  Sinful Longing (2016)

  Sinful Love (2016)

  The Fighting Fire Series

  Burn For Me (Smith and Jamie)

  Melt for Him (Megan and Becker)

  Consumed By You (Travis and Cara, August 2015)

  FIRST NIGHT

  A prequel novella to NIGHT AFTER NIGHT

  It was only supposed to be one night...

  When the sinfully handsome man walks into her bar in San Francisco, Julia Bell simply wants a break from the troubles that keep chasing her. That escape comes in the form of sexy, confident and commanding Clay Nichols, who captivates her mind AND turns her inside out with pleasure. The attraction is electric and they share one scorchingly hot night together, but they also discover there is more than just off-the-charts chemistry; the connection between them runs deep. Clay never thought he'd return to New York with this woman still on his mind. But he can't get her out of his system, and he needs more of her...He wants more than just the first night...

  CHAPTER ONE

  Eight inches.

  Julia longed for eight inches.

  Or really, eight inches and a brain.

  Was that so much for a woman to want?

  Some days it seemed like it. Julia had yet to meet a man who could hold his own on all accounts, and judging from the parade of guys who seemed to think getting into a bartender’s pants was as easy as ordering a drink, she wasn’t sure her luck was going to change anytime soon.

  Like this guy. The one with his tongue practically falling out of his mouth as he ogled her while she mixed his third Purple Snow Globe.

  “Here you go,” she said as she slid the sugar-rimmed martini glass to the young hipster, decked out in too tight-pants, a plaid shirt and a goatee that needed to have been shaved off.

  He wiggled both eyebrows and wobbled in his chair. “And how about a phone number too?”

  She flashed him her best “not a chance in hell, sucker” smile. “I’ve got a phone number for a taxi cab and I’d be mighty happy to provide that for you soon.”

  Seriously? Did he think that line was going to work? She headed to the other end of the bar to tend to a pair of blondes in low-cut halter tops, hoping they’d be less likely to hit on her. It was San Francisco though, so you never knew. But then, she was used to it. Being propositioned simply came with the territory of tending bar, and Julia Bell let all the come-on lines she heard roll off her every night, like water off a duck’s back. Most of the time she barely even noticed them – they became the white noise, along with sounds of beers being poured, glasses being washed, music being played overhead at the bar she was part owner of.

  Some days though, she’d like to be propositioned by a man with a brain, a witty mouth and who had the kind of body she’d want to be tied up with all night long.

  Or to tie up. She was pretty sure that with the right man, she might be into some equal opportunity bondage. But he’d need to be bringing eight inches. Anything less was a deal breaker. Though, truth be told, she had little room in her life now for either eight inches or for romance. Not after the pile of problems her ex had left behind for her. A heaping mass of problems, to be precise.

  She popped into the back of the bar to restock swirly straws when her phone rang. She nearly bounced as McKenna’s name flashed across the screen. Julia was expecting big news from her sister tonight. After all, she’d helped McKenna’s boyfriend pick out the ring.

  She crossed her fingers, but then she was damn sure McKenna would say nothing but a big fat yes.

  “Tell me everything,” she said into the phone.

  “It was amazing! He proposed to me right before the play started that his sister is in.”

  Julia shrieked, and wished she could wrap her sister in a big happy hug right now. “And you said yes, I hope?”

  McKenna laughed. “Of course I said yes! I said yes about twenty times.”

  “So how did he do it?”

  “Right on the frigging stage, Julia. On a Broadway stage! He proposed to me on stage!”

  “Before 2000 people?”

  “No, dork. Before the play started. But oh my god, I’m so happy.”

  Julia was grinning in the supply closet, bursting with happiness from head to toe. Her sister had been through the wringer in the romance department, but when Chris landed in her life everything changed for the better. Sunshine and roses.

  McKenna shared more of the details and Julia oohed and ahhed all throughout the tale. “You better make me your maid-of-honor,” she said.

  “As if I’d pick anyone else.”

  “Good. Now that we have that settled. Are you going to get married o
n the beach like a proper California girl?”

  “I don’t know. I haven’t thought that far ahead. But listen, enough about me. Chris’ sister is involved with the director, and the director’s buddy Clay is coming to San Fran tomorrow night for business. I told him to go to Cubic Z and say hello. I told him you were gorgeous too.”

  She rolled her eyes. Her sister could never resist playing the matchmaker.

  “Great. But no free drinks just cause he’s a friend of a friend or whatever.”

  “Never. But Jules,” McKenna said, lowering her voice to a whisper. “The guy? Clay? He’s smoking hot.”

  Her ears pricked. “Yeah? How smoking?”

  “Un-be-lievable.”

  * * *

  Clay Nichol’s redeye to San Francisco was slated to leave in two hours, but business was business, and this deal needed to be ironclad. If he had to push the flight back, he would. He loved nothing more than negotiating and closing a deal. Fine, there was one thing he loved more than deal making. A fiery woman, the kind who could dish it out as well as she could take it. But he hadn’t met anyone in the last year who excited his mind as much as his body. So for now, business was his focus. It was opening night of a new Broadway play that his friend and client, Davis Milo, had directed, and that the audience had loved. Man, that made Clay one proud entertainment lawyer since he’d sewn up the deal for Davis to direct the show, and the next one his buddy was eyeing too – a production in London.

  The two men were lounging in the empty seats at the St. James Theater, chatting with the London producers.

  Davis shook hands with the producers then clapped Clay on the back. “He can handle the rest. I need to go.”

  His friend took off, and Clay wrapped up the final details of the contract, then left the empty theater and slid into a town car. As soon as the door was closed, he loosened his purple tie; it was his good luck tie, and he always wore it on nights like these. He unbuttoned a few buttons of his crisp white shirt, stretched his neck from side to side, and reached for his phone. He hadn’t been to San Francisco in a while, but he found himself googling a certain bar on the way to the airport. Who knew if he’d make it to Cubic Z, but the woman who’d been proposed to before the show had told him that her sister worked there, then added, “She’s gorgeous, and the best bartender in the world.”

  He shrugged to himself as the car sped to LaGuardia. He wasn’t sure if he’d have the time to stop by a bar in San Francisco during this trip. But he found himself wondering about the gorgeous bartender, and whether she might be the fiery type.

  * * *

  That had been a bitch of a deal the next day. Too many attempts at nickeling-and-diming his client – a high-profile TV talk show host in the Bay Area. Pissed him off. Clay didn’t take that kind of shit and he’d made damn sure the network knew that they’d walk. That’s when the exec caved and finally started playing ball. That was the secret to negotiation. Always be the one willing to walk. In the end, Clay had landed nearly every point he’d wanted for his client. But he’d felt battered and bruised with their petty ways, so he tracked down the nearest boxing gym, worked off his frustration with a long, sweaty bout with a heavy bag, pounding and punishing until his muscles screamed, and even then a little more. After, he returned to his hotel for a hot shower.

  It was damn near scalding temperature as the water beat down hard on him, and he leaned into the stream, washing off the day.

  When he stepped out from the water and toweled off, he was nowhere near ready to crawl into bed and call it a night. Negotiations like that warranted a drink, and as soon as the thought of a drink touched down in his head, he remembered the name of the bar, and the name of the supposedly gorgeous bartender.

  Julia.

  Hmmm…

  He had energy to burn, and the bar wasn’t far from his hotel here in the SoMa district. He pulled on jeans and a button-down shirt, combed his hair, brushed his teeth, and headed out into the San Francisco night. He only wished he’d thought to bring along a pair of handcuffs, his favorite accessory. They looked mighty fine with black lingerie, thigh-high stockings, and heels on the right woman.

  But that was putting the cart before the horse, wasn’t it?

  CHAPTER TWO

  Not Again.

  Honestly, how many times was the sloppy hipster going to make a play for her? He was staring at her chest tonight. Part of her couldn’t fault him. She’d been blessed in the breasts department and filled out a C-cup quite nicely, thank you very much. But still. Tact was way sexier than ogling.

  “What if I ordered drinks for everyone in the bar? How about that? Would you finally give me your number then?”

  “No. Because my eyes are up here,” she said, and pointed to her face.

  He snapped his gaze up, caught red-handed. But he was relentless. “See? I can be trained. I’m a good boy.”

  “I’m happy to serve you. But the number is under wraps and always will be,” she told him.

  The dude was practically spilled across the bar, his chest draped on the sleek metal. “How about another Appletini then?”

  “No problem,” she said with a private smirk. Julia loved mixing drinks – she had a bit of mad scientist in her that thrilled at discovering new combinations of flavors. But while the bartender in her enjoyed concocting a cocktail, the woman in her wished that once, just once, a guy would be a guy and order a goddamn beer. Maybe it made her shallow, but she didn’t care. She would never date a man who drank the sissy drinks she often served. She liked her men to be men. No manscapers need apply.

  As she mixed the hipster’s drink – some vodka, some apple juice, a splash of apple brandy – a new customer sat down.

  “What can I get for you?” she said before she even turned around.

  “I’ll take whatever’s on tap.”

  She froze in her spot simply because the voice was rough and gravelly, and sent a charge through her with its masculine sexiness. But, the man behind that deep and husky voice was probably a dweeb, right? That’d be her luck. She plunked the Appletini down in front of her least favorite sloppy drinker, then turned to the man who wanted the beer, and holy heavenly fiesta of the eyes.

  He was tall. He was broad. He had the perfect amount of stubble on his jawline, and those eyes were to-die for – deep brown and piercing. Then there was his hair – thick, brown, and ideal for sliding fingers through. She didn’t want to take her eyes off him, but she knew better than to stare. She quickly straightened her spine, picked her gawking jaw up from the floor, and gave him a cool nod. “We have an India Pale Ale tonight. Will that do?”

  “That’ll do just fine,” he said, his muscular forearms resting on the sleek bar. His shirt sleeves were rolled up and Julia couldn’t help but notice how strong his arms were. She bet he worked out. A real man kind of workout. Something hard and heavy that made him sweat and grunt to mold that kind of physique. She poured the beer into the glass, and set it down in front of him. He reached for his wallet, peeled off some bills, and handed them to her.

  “I take it you’re Julia?”

  Uh oh. How did he know her name. Was he an undercover cop? Had she accidentally served someone under twenty-one? She was diligent and methodical in her ID checking and had never let an underage in. Or wait. Her spine stiffened. Was he onto her? Did he know what she did every Tuesday night at a dimly-lit apartment above a greasy restaurant in China Town that smelled of fried pork? That would be over soon though. It had to be. She’d done her time, and was ready to cash in. Soon, she kept telling herself.

  “Yeah,” she answered carefully, all her senses on alert. She wasn’t really doing anything wrong those nights, was she? No, she was just taking care of business as she knew how.

  “I hear you’re the best bartender in San Francisco.”

  The tightness in her shoulders relaxed. At least he wasn’t a boy in blue come to bust her. But forget his smoldering looks. He was like the rest of them, going for cheap lines, hitting on the wo
man behind the bar. “Yeah, where’d you hear that? Facebook?”

  He smiled briefly and shook his head. Damn, he had a fabulous smile. Straight, white teeth and a knowing grin. But she knew better than to fall for a hot stranger simply because he was handsome. She’d done that before, and it had kicked her in the ass. That’s why she was a No-Strings-Attached kind of woman these days. Not that she’d had any attachments of any sort lately – she had too much trouble to untangle herself from before she could even think about getting tangled up in love, let alone the sheets.

  “No. Your sister told me. McKenna, I believe.”

  Oh.

  Oh yes.

  It all made sense now.

  And far be it from Julia to ever doubt her big sister. Because McKenna’s assessment was one hundred and fifty percent correct. He was smoking hot. Un-be-lievable. And he was no longer a stranger. He was sister-approved, he wasn’t a cop, and he wasn’t a heavy, so she shucked off her worries. “Clay Nichols,” he said, offering a hand to shake. Nice firm grip. Before she knew it, she was thinking of other uses for those strong hands.

  “Julia Bell.”

  “So how’s your day working out for you, Julia Bell?”

  She laughed once. Not because it was funny, but because it was such a simple and direct question. It wasn’t a cheesy line. “It’s not too shabby,” she said. “And yours, Clay Nichols?”

  He shook his head, let out a long stream of air. “Long, annoying, but ultimately victorious.”

  “What, are you a fighter?”

  “Nah. Just a lawyer,” he said then took a drink of the beer. He nodded to the glass in admiration. “Insert lawyer joke here.”

  “A lawyer walks into a bar,” she said, then stopped to shoot him a playful stare. “Actually, that’s not a joke. That’s me giving a play by play.”

  He laughed. “You are an excellent commentator so far.”

  “Why thank you. I can keep it up all night,” she said.

  “All night? Is that so?” He raised an eyebrow, and his lips curved up in a wickedly sexy grin.