Special Delivery (Always Satisfied Book 5) Read online

  Special Delivery

  Lauren Blakely

  Contents

  Copyright

  Also By Lauren Blakely

  About

  Special Delivery

  His Prologue

  Her Prologue

  1. Vaughn

  2. Vaughn

  3. Quinn

  4. Quinn

  5. Vaughn

  6. Vaughn

  7. Vaughn

  8. Quinn

  9. Vaughn

  10. Vaughn

  11. Quinn

  12. Vaughn

  13. Quinn

  14. Vaughn

  15. Quinn

  16. Quinn

  17. Vaughn

  18. Vaughn

  Epilogue

  Acknowledgments

  Also by Lauren Blakely

  Contact

  Copyright

  Copyright © 2019 by Lauren Blakely

  Cover Design by Helen Williams. 1st Edition, 2019

  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 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 book is licensed for your personal use only. This book 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 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

  Big Rock Series

  Big Rock

  Mister O

  Well Hung

  Full Package

  Joy Ride

  Hard Wood

  One Love Series

  The Sexy One

  The Only One

  The Hot One

  The Knocked Up Plan

  Come As You Are

  The Heartbreakers Series

  Once Upon a Real Good Time

  Once Upon a Sure Thing

  Once Upon a Wild Fling

  Sports Romance

  Most Valuable Playboy

  Most Likely to Score

  Lucky In Love Series

  Best Laid Plans

  The Feel Good Factor

  Nobody Does It Better

  Unzipped

  Always Satisfied Series

  Satisfaction Guaranteed

  Instant Gratification

  Overnight Service

  Never Have I Ever

  Special Delivery

  The Gift Series

  The Engagement Gift

  The Virgin Gift (coming soon)

  The Exclusive Gift (coming soon)

  The Sexy Suit Series

  Lucky Suit

  Birthday Suit

  From Paris With Love

  Wanderlust

  Part-Time Lover

  Standalones

  Stud Finder

  The V Card

  The Real Deal

  Unbreak My Heart

  The Break-Up Album

  21 Stolen Kisses

  Out of Bounds

  The Dating Proposal

  The Caught Up in Love Series

  Caught Up In Us

  Pretending He’s Mine

  Playing With Her Heart

  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

  About

  All I want for Christmas is the secret potion that’ll help me resist my brother’s new business partner. You know, the super hot, super sweet, super smart guy I now have to plan the holiday party with.

  I mean, really. Who thought THAT was a good idea?

  Oh, me. Yep, brilliant, strategic me who raised her hand and said yes I’d love to hang mistletoe with that sexy former sports star. I’d love to taste test spiked hot chocolate with that charming, flirty man. I’d love to get snowed in with the one guy I shouldn’t fall for.

  As long as I can make it through the holidays I’ll be on my merry way, fa la la la la. But the holidays have a surprise for me.

  Special Delivery

  By Lauren Blakely

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  His Prologue

  Vaughn

  When I started my new business, I made three pledges.

  First: always kick ass for my clients.

  Second: leave the past far behind.

  Third: run like hell from entanglements of the romantic kind.

  I don’t just mean taboo trysts with clients or coworkers. My rule has always been to avoid those like a communal bowl of pretzels at a bar.

  A communal anything anywhere, for that matter.

  When I say “entanglements,” I mean of any sort with any woman to any degree—whether that is love, sex, or dating.

  Yeah, the whole shebang, bang and all.

  I’m no good at balance anyway. I’m an all-or-nothing kind of guy, and I need to give my all to my new gig.

  So the other side gets nada.

  I don’t discriminate in my sidestep-women-at-all-costs strategy—clients, coworkers, and business partners are off-limits, and so are their sisters, cousins, and any other female relatives. The “nothing” side means no women from Match, Tinder, or any dating app; no women friends, friends of friends, or friends of my sisters who they would love to set me up with; no women I meet in my building or my gym or on my route to work, not even that cute woman who arranges flowers at the shop where I order a bouquet delivered to my mom in Florida every Sunday.

  Maybe it sounds hard to go cold turkey—or, let’s be honest, more l
ike full-on frozen turkey.

  But romance isn’t that difficult to dodge if you have a strategy.

  And I don’t mean a playboy plan; that dip-the-wick-daily lifestyle never interested me.

  I think of it like a diet, and I damn well need it if I’m going to be in fighting shape for work. The last time I fell hard for someone, I spent the better part of a year cleaning up the mess that it made of my work life. I have no desire to venture down that path again.

  That means no cheat days. No sneaking into the pantry for a kiss with a sexy lady here or snagging a tasty-looking cookie from the one-night-stand jar of treats.

  Fine, sometimes dessert seduces me, and I’ve always been a sucker for sweets. But as a former pro athlete, I have excellent discipline, and I’m feeling pretty cocky about my ability to resist temptation.

  At least, I had been. Then I met someone who makes me want to devour her—à la mode with a layer of hot fudge.

  Only, I suspect Quinn would be sweet on her own.

  Sexy, clever, witty, captivating Quinn.

  Since I met her, I want every day to be a break from my diet. I want to indulge my sweet tooth at breakfast, lunch, and dinner.

  It won’t be easy, but the solution is obvious. I need to go on a Quinn fast. I’ll simply abstain from seeing her.

  Ever again.

  Then I find out we’ll be working side by side through the holidays.

  Deck the halls with my greatest temptation, and fuck me sideways with a nutcracker.

  Fa-la-la-la-la.

  Her Prologue

  Quinn

  Spoiler alert—I love spoilers.

  I adore them like they’re a new pair of sexy, stylish shoes that fit like they’re made for me.

  Less of a surprise—I hate surprises.

  My sisters know to never throw me a surprise party, and my brother is on notice—no uninvited pop-in visits to my apartment. Or else.

  Because I know all their childhood secrets and I’m not afraid to use them.

  But as long as my sibs comply, I won’t let slip when exactly my brother stopped running around the house naked (he was six), or how many posters of Mr. Darcy my little sister pinned to her walls (more than ten).

  Or maybe I wouldn’t. I’m not evil.

  I simply can’t stand the suspense of not knowing what’s going to happen.

  Like how I googled the ending of the most recent Avengers movie. I don’t even watch Marvel flicks, but I was dying to know why my social media feed was suddenly full of shocked reaction gifs. (And I’ve got to say—holy smokes—I didn’t see that coming.)

  Why wouldn’t I read the endings of books first? I wasn’t going to devote all that time to Matthew and Elizabeth in A Discovery of Witches otherwise. And settling in on a Friday night with Memento on Netflix, my popcorn tasted so much better after I checked the plot summary for a road map to that twisty-as-a-DNA-strand flick.

  When it comes to holidays—well, it will shock no one to learn that I was the kid who opened her Christmas presents in advance.

  Sorry, Mom and Dad.

  I crept out of bed in the wee hours of the morning, tiptoed downstairs, and slid my finger under the wrapping paper to peek inside.

  So, yes, that puts me on the naughty list. But I learned to wrap presents like a Macy’s gift-wrapping counter pro and impress my friends. Show me a champion gift wrapper, and I’ll show you a former present-peeker.

  I need to know what’s around the corner and five steps ahead. Given my aversion to suspense, I’d make a terrible adventurer, ghost hunter, or cop.

  But I make an excellent event planner.

  Planning is my jam, and organizing feeds my soul.

  Even better, I love celebrations, people, and good conversations that last long into the night.

  It’s the perfect job for me, keeping me sane, and lately it’s been the perfect medicine. After my last relationship went up less in flames and more in an epic bonfire of pain and sadness, my business—Quinn Summers Events—was a salve.

  I refuse to let my heart be blindsided again, which means steering clear of love and men for a long time to come.

  That’s a cinch for a spoiler-loving gal like me. All it takes to avoid love and romance is a little forward thinking. For instance, when my brother asks me to work with his business partner to plan a series of holiday parties for his new firm, I do what I do best.

  I peek.

  I have to know what’s in the box, so I lift the curtain and google his business partner, a certain Vaughn Channing, former Super Bowl-winning tight end for the San Francisco Renegades.

  Oh me. Oh my. Hello, handsome.

  Just look at him there in his football uniform, catching a touchdown pass.

  And wow. Check him out these days in the tailored suit he wears as a dealmaker. Why, yes, the former pro-baller-turned-sports-agent is just my type.

  Well, I do like men who are handsome as hell, fit as fiddles, and smile like they’re legitimately happy.

  He ticks all three boxes.

  This is why it’s good to know what’s around the bend. Now I’m prepped for peak resistance when I head to dinner to meet him for the first time.

  I’m armed with mantras and positive affirmations.

  Don’t flirt. Do resist. You are the consummate professional.

  Except spoiler alert—I cave.

  Oh hell, do I ever cave, and fast.

  But our ending is one I never saw coming.

  1

  Vaughn

  My calendar says it’s a week after Halloween, but tell that to Manhattan.

  The city has draped itself in red, green, and candy cane. Fake icicles frost the streetlamps, paper snowflakes flurry in store windows, and blue-and-white strings of lights flicker from building balconies.

  As I walk past a Duane Reade display peddling Santa toilet paper—Seriously? Santa deserves way better —I snap a picture and shoot it over to my sister Callie while we chat on the phone.

  “New York is a freaking winter wonderland already. How is this possible?” I ask. “I gave out Halloween candy last week, and now it’s jingle all the way.”

  “Where did you give out candy? In your penthouse apartment?”

  “It’s not the penthouse, and it won’t be mine much longer,” I point out as I turn onto Madison Avenue, heading toward the offices of Premiere Agency where I work.

  “Last time I saw your place, it was pretty damn swank.” She sounds like she’s caught me in a fib—such an attorney.

  “But it’s not the penthouse. I live on the tenth floor. The building has eleven floors, counselor.”

  “A technicality,” she deadpans. “I’ll rephrase my statement: you don’t live in a penthouse on Park Avenue—you’re slumming it a story below in a tenth-floor two-bedroom. You’re sooo ordinary.”

  “See? I’m just like everyone else.”

  She laughs, and I know she’s rolling her eyes. “Right. Except for the three years you played pro ball for a Super Bowl-winning team and made major bank. Besides that, you’re just like the rest of us.”

  The silver glint from one of the stones in my ring catches the sun as I walk. Yeah, I do love this bling, big-time. It almost takes the sting out of a too-short career on the gridiron.

  “Anyway, mildly argumentative sister of mine—my point was not about Halloween candy but that the city is decked out in tinsel already,” I say as I reach my building.

  “Are you worried you’re behind schedule if your tree’s not up? You do know you don’t have to start decorating in July like Mom does?”

  On her end, a small voice calls out “Doggie,” and my sister tells her son proudly, “Yes, Danny, that’s the doggie.”

  “Doggie, bark,” Danny says in the background.

  I can’t help but smile at her almost-two-year-old cobbling short sentences together. “He wasn’t saying ‘bark’ when I saw him last month.”

  “My child is clearly a genius.”

  “Just like his Un
cle Vaughn.”

  “Yes, just like his uncle, since he’s making trouble and encouraging the dog to bark.”

  “Good for him. Tell that little dude I cannot wait to see him while I’m there over Thanksgiving.” I love that town, and I love Callie and my other sister Aubrey, and all my nephews and nieces. Both of my sisters’ husbands are cool cats too.

  “You’re seriously the best for seeing him so often. Greg and I appreciate it.”

  “Like it’s a hardship to make sure my nephew spends time with his favorite person.”

  “Goodbye, cocky brother of mine.”

  “See you later.” I hang up, then dart into the building, taking the steps two at a time up to our fifth-floor suite. Elevators can suck it.

  Pushing open the door, I say hi to our receptionist then to my business partners, Haven, Josh, and Ford, before I head to my office, where I spend the day pacing the carpeted floor as I make work calls.

  They go so damn swimmingly that I lob jump shot after jump shot in the net on the back of my office door as I talk.

  “Slam dunk,” I declare to no one after I negotiate a killer bonus clause for one of the Yankees.