Birthday Suit Read online

  Contents

  Also By Lauren Blakely

  Prologue

  1. Leo

  2. Lulu

  3. Leo

  4. Lulu

  5. Leo

  6. Leo

  7. Lulu

  8. Leo

  9. Lulu

  10. Leo

  11. Leo

  12. Lulu

  13. Lulu

  14. Lulu

  15. Leo

  16. Lulu

  17. Leo

  18. Lulu

  19. Lulu

  20. Leo

  21. Leo

  22. Leo

  23. Lulu

  24. Lulu

  25. Lulu

  26. Lulu

  27. Leo

  28. Lulu

  29. Leo

  30. Lulu

  31. Leo

  32. Lulu

  33. Leo

  34. Lulu

  35. Leo

  36. Lulu

  37. Leo

  38. Tripp

  39. Lulu

  40. Lulu

  Epilogue

  Also by Lauren Blakely

  Contact

  Copyright © 2019 by Lauren Blakely

  LaurenBlakely.com

  Cover Design by © Helen Williams, photo by Wander Aguilar

  First Edition Book

  * * *

  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 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. 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

  Big Rock Series

  * * *

  Big Rock

  Mister O

  Well Hung

  Full Package

  Joy Ride

  Hard Wood

  * * *

  One Love Series dual-POV Standalones

  The Sexy One

  The Only One

  The Hot One

  * * *

  Sports Romance

  Most Valuable Playboy

  Most Likely to Score

  * * *

  Standalones

  * * *

  The Knocked Up Plan

  Stud Finder

  The V Card

  Wanderlust

  Come As You Are

  Part-Time Lover

  The Real Deal

  Unbreak My Heart

  Far Too Tempting

  21 Stolen Kisses

  Playing With Her Heart

  Out of Bounds

  Unzipped

  Birthday Suit (2019)

  Best Laid Plans (2019)

  The Feel Good Factor (2019)

  * * *

  The Heartbreakers Series

  Once Upon a Real Good Time

  Once Upon a Sure Thing

  Once Upon a Wild Fling

  * * *

  The Caught Up in Love Series

  Caught Up In Us

  Pretending He’s Mine

  Trophy Husband

  * * *

  Stars In Their Eyes Duet

  My Charming Rival

  My Sexy Rival

  * * *

  The No Regrets Series

  The Thrill of It

  The Start of Us

  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)

  A Wildly Seductive Night (Julia and Clay novella, book 3.5)

  * * *

  The Joy Delivered Duet

  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

  Sinful Desire

  Sinful Longing

  Sinful Love

  * * *

  The Fighting Fire Series

  Burn For Me (Smith and Jamie)

  Melt for Him (Megan and Becker)

  Consumed By You (Travis and Cara)

  * * *

  The Jewel Series

  A two-book sexy contemporary romance series

  The Sapphire Affair

  The Sapphire Heist

  This story is dedicated to Jeanne Blum and Elizabeth Mantia

  Prologue

  Leo

  * * *

  Let’s get one thing out of the way real fast. Regret is a waste of time. I don’t believe in it—never have, never will. I try to live my life without that useless emotion.

  You know those articles where the journalist asks old people what they would have done differently, and they list all sorts of stuff—be a better friend, call your mom, tell the woman you love her? You don’t want to be that person.

  There’s a simple way to avoid it.

  Do the good shit now.

  Say yes to that crazy job offer, ask out the girl who’s out of your league, climb the mountain and kiss the sky.

  You’ll thank yourself later.

  But the flip side of that kind of life is this: you need some rules. A few basic guidelines to follow to navigate the potholes.

  Over the years I’ve assembled my top picks. Some from experience, some from listening to others.

  Allow me to share my hard-won wisdom.

  * * *

  1. If you have to sniff the food in your fridge to decide if you can eat it, just toss it. You’ll be glad you did tomorrow.

  * * *

  2. You can tell everything you need to know about a person by how he or she treats the waiter.

  * * *

  3. Turn down that last tequila shot. Trust me on this one.

  * * *

  4. If your woman sends you to the store to pick up something, get that something, not another version you think is better. Her version is always the right one.

  * * *

  5. You can’t put your foot in your mouth if it’s closed.

  * * *

  6. No dude ever gets in trouble while cleaning the kitchen.

  * * *

  7. Don’t live to work; work to live.

  * * *

  8. If you tell the truth, you don’t have to remember anything.

  * * *

  9. Don’t get a tattoo that’s longer than your dick.

  * * *

  10. Men should never wear black jeans.

  * * *

  That’s my list and I’m sticking to it. Those mantras have served me well. They’ve made me the man I am today—successful, wise, and satisfied.

  There’s one more though. An addendum, if you will. The postscript you need to achieve
a life well-lived. This ought to be so damn easy that no one makes this mistake.

  Gather close.

  Write it down.

  Follow this one to the motherfucking letter.

  No matter what, don’t fall in love with your best friend’s girl.

  Too bad that ship sailed long ago for me.

  1

  Leo

  Real men like chocolate. And they aren’t afraid to show it.

  I have no shame over my love for this substance. I love it when it’s dark, when it’s bitter, when it’s semisweet. I love it slathered on ice cream; crafted into truffles, bars, and squares; or filled with nuts, fruit, or liqueur.

  But there’s one form I can’t stand.

  Chocolate fountains.

  We’re talking the hardest of hard limits, especially here at The Big Chocolate Show in the heart of Manhattan.

  As I head down the aisle in hot pursuit of the next rising star, I’m transfixed by a guy in the booth a few feet ahead. He has a bushy beard and gnarly hands, and he swipes his index finger through the chocolate stream in front of him.

  Then licks said finger.

  He wipes the chocolate drops from his beard.

  And proceeds to lick that off his fingers too.

  Shuddering, I jerk my gaze away from the Finger-Licking Good booth. This is worse than going to see the latest Ed Helms F-bomb laden comedy and getting hit with a preview for a “snowman came to life and eviscerated me with an icicle” flick. I don’t want horror trailers before my adult comedies, nor do I want to see cesspools of chocolate when I’m hunting for the next great chocolatier.

  I adjust my cranberry-colored tie and turn into the Heavenly booth, admiring the classy layout, from the simple oak tables to the stone bowls the chocolates lounge in invitingly with silver tongs beside them.

  Yes, tongs. Because chocolates should be distributed in public by tongs, not fingers.

  With her usual cheery grin, our freckle-faced marketing director waves me over from her spot manning the table. Or womanning the table, as Ginny likes to say. She scans left, then right. Coast is clear. There’s a lull in the booth action. She drops her voice to a clandestine whisper. “Leo, I pilfered some goodies for you.”

  “Ginny, you are brilliant and also quite nefarious.”

  “I take that as the highest compliment, especially since when I was a little girl growing up in Sydney, I had secret dreams to become a chocolate thief.”

  “Glad to see we’re making all your dreams come true.”

  She slides a green ceramic plate at me then presses her finger to her lips, her heart-shaped necklace dangling perilously close to the table. “But I don’t want anyone to see you tasting someone else’s chocolate. It would make us look bad.”

  I shoot her a look. “It would make us look like we were on a mad hunt for the next rising star to partner with.” As the exec in charge of business development, that’s exactly my role at this show—finding that person.

  She waves off my reply. “C’mon. Play along with me.”

  “Fine. Fine. Cover me, Ginny. I’m going in.” I glance behind me, like I’m checking for sniper fire.

  “You’re all clear. Go for it. I’ve got you.” With a sly backhand move, she wields the tongs—God bless her—and drops a small truffle into my palm. “This is your kind of chocolate.”

  “Do tell. What is my kind?” I take the chocolate, half-expecting her to say “bitter,” since she knows me well enough.

  But her reply surprises me.

  “Spice.”

  I arch a brow. “Is that so?”

  “Absolutely. You tell it like it is, just like a pepper.”

  Laughing, I ask, “Is that what a pepper does?”

  “Of course. All good peppers give it to you straight.”

  “Then I will give this my true and honest appraisal, as if you’d given me Veritaserum.”

  “I love it when you talk Harry Potter.”

  “You only forced me to read them.”

  Her jaw drops. “There was no forcing. That was love. That was only love I forced on you.”

  “And several thousand pages of reading too.”

  “That you adored.”

  “I did,” I concede, since wizard battles rock, then I sniff the chocolate. It tickles my nose with a little hint of fire. I pop it in my mouth, the sharp, peppery taste tangoing over my tongue. “That’s a helluva kick.”

  She pumps her fist. “I knew you were a spice. I have others for you to try too. But first, have you found our next rising star for our fabulous boss? She’s damn eager since the first partnership went so well.”

  “No one who’s wowed me enough with his or her artisanal creations. Who does this deliciousness belong to?”

  “I’m not telling you yet. You need to taste the others first.” She grabs another small square, placing it in my palm. “Try this one now. But smell it first.”

  “As if I’d do anything but sniff it.” I draw a deep inhale, letting it fill my mind with . . . a most familiar scent.

  Dark chocolate. A touch of vanilla. A little bit of coconut.

  And like that, I’m thinking of her.

  A woman who smelled like chocolate. I imagine she’d taste like chocolate too. I’ve wondered about her far too much for my own good.

  As the memory of her scent floods my mind, I can see her face, her cheekbones, her mismatched eyes—one green, one blue. Or as she liked to say, one green, one not so green.

  An impish smile.

  She was bright, bold, and a little crazy in all the good ways.

  She’d convince you to dance on the rooftop, climb the fence at Gramercy Park, and order the hottest dish on the menu even though you wouldn’t taste anything for days afterward. You only live once, she’d say. And when it came to chocolate, her favorite assessment was, “It’s so good it should be criminal.” Then she’d add, “But thank God it’s not.”

  “Is it so good it’s criminal?”

  At the sound of that voice, I snap to attention.

  Am I hearing things? I spin around. Maybe I’m seeing a mirage.

  Here she is now. The woman herself, in the flesh.

  “Not that chocolate being illegal would ever stop you from eating it,” I say, since you can’t greet Lulu Diamond with a “Hello, how the hell are you?” or “It’s been forever.” Lulu must be greeted in medias res, and then you simply must keep up with her.

  My eyes rake over her, drinking in the sight. She always looked like she’d ridden in astride a rainbow-colored unicorn while fireworks rained down on all of us.

  Today is no different.

  She’s decked out in an orange dress with sapphire-blue heels, and her Sarah Jessica Parker curls are piled high in a bun. She used to tell us she was mistaken for the actress, circa the Sex and The City years.

  She gestures to the chocolates. “Nothing would ever stop me from eating my favorite treats.” Lulu glances at Ginny, meeting her eyes then pointing to me. “Also, you nailed it. Leo’s totally a spice.”

  Ginny pats herself on the back. “Knew it.”

  “But he’s also a coconut, don’t you think?”

  “Is that so?” Ginny jumps right into it, like she went to the Lulu school of How to Talk to Strangers.

  “You heard our entire conversation?” I cut in.

  “It was either listen in or cover your eyes with my hands and shout boo!” Lulu says.

  “But that sounds exactly your style.”

  “You have me on that one.” Lulu extends a hand to Ginny. “Lulu Diamond. I love your necklace, and you have the best hair.”

  Ginny pats her red locks, her smile blazing as Lulu does what Lulu does—makes you feel like the center of the fucking world.

  “Ginny Perretti. And you’re hired. For anything and everything.”

  Just like that, Lulu is making best friends with whomever she meets. The woman I’ve known since that fated day ten years ago flashes a grin at my friend and colleague. “Excellen
t. I’ll be there tomorrow morning at nine a.m. on the dot.”

  As a group of chocolate connoisseurs heads into the Heavenly booth, Ginny trains her attention on them. Lulu looks at me then smiles again. It’s the warmest grin I’ve ever seen, and with it, her boldness momentarily melts away. It’s replaced by something else entirely—a sweetness, a tenderness. She has that in her, too, in spades. “How the hell are you?”

  At last, we can greet each other like normal people as we drop the rat-a-tat banter.

  “I’m . . .” My voice trails off as I consider all the ways to answer her. Busy? Focused? Alone? Ambitious? Determined? Kicking unholy ass? Lonely? Escaping from the world? “I’m all good.”