Not Just Friends (Hot in the City Book 3) Read online

  Published by T Gephart

  Copyright 2020 T Gephart

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  This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment 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 recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and scenarios are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales, or organizations is entirely coincidental.

  Cover by Hang Le

  Editing by Insight Editing Services

  Formatting by Elaine York, Allusion Graphics LLC

  Proofread by Rebecca, Fairest Reviews Editing Services

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Epilogue

  Acknowledgements

  About the Author

  Connect with T

  To S,

  Thanks for not thinking I was crazy or that I was too much work. But most of all, thank you for showing me that strong women are allowed to crumble every now and again too.

  Jared

  JARED LEIGHTON—PRESLEY, I screwed up, I’m sorry. You were vulnerable and I was supposed to be the good guy. Last thing I ever wanted to do was betray your trust, or worse, hurt you. I should never have even kissed you, let alone . . . yeah, well we both know how that ended. You’re my best friend’s sister for Christ’s sake, what was I even thinking? Clearly, I wasn’t. I’m so mad at myself, I want to break my own legs, save Tibbs the trouble. So yeah, I know this isn’t much of an apology, but I needed to make sure you’re okay. Let me know things are still cool between us or at least, what I can do to make it up to you. And it’s probably for the best if we keep this between just us. I swear on my mother, I’ll never touch you again.

  Presley Tibbs—Leighton, not sure who you thought you were with last night, but it wasn’t some vulnerable little girl who needs protecting. I assumed that was pretty clear when I took you to MY bed. Don’t pretend that last night wasn’t exactly what we both wanted. We’ve been flirting with each other for years, and I finally got tired of playing games. As for my brother, he doesn’t and will never have a say in who I invite into my life or body—not his business. But if you’re scared that’s your hang up not mine. So save your apology, and your good intentions, and don’t treat me like I’m a woman who didn’t know what she was doing. Oh, and tell your mother I said hi.

  Christ.

  I reread the message thread again for the millionth time before shoving the phone back in my pocket.

  It was clear she was pissed.

  Never should have sent her that text.

  What I should’ve done was drive to her house, sacked up, and admit to her face what a complete asshole I’d been. But every time I got in the car, hand ready to hit the ignition, I completely lost my nerve.

  God, she was gorgeous.

  Five-foot-seven with legs for days, her body was insane in every way that mattered. And those eyes of hers were dangerous. Light brown that darkened on a dime, she could say everything she needed without opening those perfect pink lips. Damn, they’d felt good. Both her eyes on me, as I peeled that tight sparkly dress from her body, and those lips on my throat.

  Yeah, not helping.

  Instead of reminiscing about how fucking beautiful Presley was, I was supposed to be working shit out. And on top of that agenda was making it right between us.

  It wasn’t going to be an easy fix.

  When I’d offered to drive her home from work, all it was supposed to be was a ride. And not the kind that happened in my lap. Jesus, she was not only my best friend’s sister but one of the most amazing women I’d ever met. Not to mention she was being terrorized by her shit-for-brains ex-boyfriend, who was going to end up in a ditch somewhere on the Jersey Turnpike if we ever got our hands on him.

  Not even going to pretend that I wasn’t totally on board with Tibbs on that. She might be his sister, but no one messed with one of ours. Of course those feelings had only intensified since we’d stupidly slept together.

  What had I been thinking?

  Clearly, I hadn’t.

  All I knew was one minute I was flicking those beautiful brown curls off her shoulder, telling her goodnight, and the next, I had my mouth on hers and my hand touching her in places I shouldn’t.

  What’s worse?

  I didn’t stop.

  Nope, she flashed me a smile, pressed her palm against the rod in my pants and told me to go upstairs with her. And like an idiot who’d clearly lost all his brain cells, I went without a second thought. A complete selfish prick, ignoring the fact I was supposed to be keeping her safe, and instead, I got busy making her come.

  And fuck me, did she ever.

  “You’re quiet.” Chief’s eyes nailed me from the rearview mirror. “Your afternoon activities wear you out?”

  Chief, Tibbs and I were checking out a tip, the three of us looking for the piece of shit Presley used to date

  I coughed, wondering if the guilt wasn’t written on my face. I sucked at keeping shit from Tibbs and the chief, so it was a wonder I hadn’t already ’fessed up. “You want to talk about ladies we’re entertaining now, Chief? Because if that’s what we’re doing, then you should probably start.”

  Yeah, deflection. Easier than flat-out lying, and would hopefully take off some of the heat.

  He flipped me off, obvious that I’d gotten under his skin and launched into a warning about me being respectful. The fucking irony. And while I listened to the man’s words, my head was somewhere else. On the sister of the guy sitting to the right of him.

  Fuck.

  And while we might have been cruising Queens looking for the shithead who clearly didn’t deserve Presley, my mind was having a hard time focusing on anything other than her.

  Chief leveled me with a stare, my lack of concentration not hearing much other than his woman wasn’t a topic of conversation. And if not for the grin Tibbs had on his face, I’d have thought I was in trouble. I laughed, my own smirk making an appearance. “You’re such an easy target, Chief. And you know I’m a saint. Wouldn’t dream of messing with your woman, even as a joke. But, if Hayden continues to inspire the baking, I’d like to formerly request brownies. Double chocolate.”

  Chief groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose like he had a headache. “I swear you’re worse than preschoolers. How you guys made it through the academy is a mystery.”

  “It’s ’cause we’re brilliant, Chief,” Tibbs added from the passenger’s side, his chin tip to me, making me feel like an even bigger asshole. Not sure he’d feel the same way if he’d known where I�
�d spent my night.

  “Not to mention, fearless warriors.” I played along, coughing out the words.

  Ironic that I felt anything but.

  “And your own biggest fans, too. Let’s keep the appreciation society for later, like much later, when I’m not around,” Chief offered as he shook his head.

  With no visual on Presley’s ex, and no idea where the shithead had been hiding, we pulled out of the parking lot of the Cineplex in Flushing we’d been sitting in. Despite one of the boys in 151 having seen Lewis the night before, there’d been no sign of him or his ugly ass car the entire night. Mack drove around the surrounding area, hitting places lowlifes tended to congregate, but there was nothing. So with no further leads, we called it a night.

  “Presley working tonight?” The mention of her name had my head snapping up. Made me wonder if all those internal thoughts hadn’t been vocalized, not relaxing until I saw Mack was looking at Tibbs.

  “Yep, but she promised she’s getting a ride home with one of the girls from the bar. We still don’t know if he did it just to mess with her or if he was looking for something. And I definitely don’t trust the guy.”

  That was another thing Tibbs and I agreed on, my hand sliding into my pocket and finding my phone.

  Presley and that fucking message.

  My head was still reeling, my attempt to apologize not what she wanted to hear. And, fuck me, if I wasn’t confused and fucking hard at the same time.

  Fuck . . .

  I had to talk to her.

  “Speaking of people we can’t trust. Either of you two clowns see Melinda?” Mack coughed out, shooting us both a look.

  Tibbs glanced at me over his shoulder, tossing me completely under the bus on yet another subject I didn’t want to talk about.

  Mack’s ex-wife, Melinda, was a psychopath. Crazy beautiful with the kind of vibe that would make you want to cup your balls whenever she was around. And, because Presley hadn’t been my only lapse in judgment last night, I’d had the fucking displeasure of talking to Melinda at the bar when we’d all been hanging out at Diablo. Who knew heading to Presley’s club would have turned into such a shitshow. Still, even with the facetime I’d endured with Mack’s crazy ex, couldn’t say I’d regretted it.

  “Spill it. What did she say? And don’t try and tell me it was nothing because you’re terrible liars.”

  “So, I saw her at the bar,” I admitted, figuring one lie was hard enough to keep. “I swear I didn’t say anything, but she walked up all the same and offered to buy me a drink.”

  “And . . .?” Mack waved his hand, urging me to continue.

  I blew out a breath. “And . . . to suck my dick.”

  See, complete and utter psycho because there wasn’t a chance in hell I’d put my dick anywhere near her mouth. Even if I didn’t have a hard-on for Presley. Fuck, she’d been looking at me the entire time too. Her eyebrow arched as she smirked, waiting to see how I’d answer. And not that I’d ever admit that to Mack, but it had been kind of hot. Presley, I mean, not Melinda who was clearly a tragedy I wanted no part of.

  “Chief, I told her I wasn’t interested. And I’d never—like ever—go there. But before she left, she told me to give you a message. And either you call her back and give her what she wanted, or she was going to make your life a living hell.”

  He shook his head, giving us not much else other than, “I’ll take care of it.”

  “So, what does she want?” I pressed him a little more, curiosity getting the better of me.

  “Nothing she can get from me.”

  Mack wasn’t talkative at the best of times and made it clear the topic of Melinda was closed. And considering I had a subject of my own I didn’t want to discuss, I had to respect the guy.

  Jesus.

  What the hell was with Presley anyway? Telling me to take my apology and good intentions and shove them up my ass. And that fucking crack about my mother? I was both angry as hell and irrationally turned on.

  I’d been so lost in my crazy internal tug-of-war, I hadn’t even noticed when we’d pulled up to the apartment I shared with Tibbs in Hell’s Kitchen. Because in addition to him being my best friend, he was also my roommate. Which would make it easier for him to kill me in my sleep when he found out what I’d done with his sister.

  Yep.

  That would be fun.

  Deciding texting her wouldn’t be enough, I grunted goodbye to Mack, getting out of his truck and fisting my keys.

  “Where are you going?” Mack eyed me suspiciously.

  Shit.

  “I’m not looking for him, I swear, Chief. Just want to go kill some time or something.” I shrugged nonchalantly, not wanting to complicate things. Easier to omit the truth than to out-and-out lie, and I wasn’t saying shit until I’d spoken to Presley.

  “You going too?” he asked Tibbs, the excuse he couldn’t come, ready in my throat

  Wasn’t the kind of thing I wanted to do with an audience, least of all her brother.

  “Nah, I’m going to call it an early night. That six a.m. alarm sucks balls.” Tibbs waved goodbye, the sigh of relief coming out fast. “And if you bring anyone home tonight, try and keep it down.”

  Yeah, there was no danger of that.

  I nodded, waving them both goodbye as I got into my car. The Mustang roared to life as I tossed my phone on the passenger seat—the offending message still fucking displayed on the screen—and pulled away.

  Presley didn’t get off work until two, sometimes three, which meant I knew exactly where to find her. And while she could totally blow me off, I wasn’t going to let it slide like I had those choice words she’d texted me.

  I’d been a decent guy for fuck’s sake, why the hell was she fighting me on this?

  Diablo was in Midtown, so it would have been faster to walk there than take my car. But other than the questions it would have raised had I gone for an evening stroll, I liked the idea of having my wheels so I could drive her home. Sure, she’d told her brother she was going to be hitching a ride with someone else, but I had a hunch our conversation wasn’t going to be a three-minute chat at the bar. Probably best we had it in private, even if that meant I was going to be tired as fuck for my shift tomorrow. Still, sometimes that shit couldn’t be helped.

  The employee parking lot was around the back, my Mustang pulling in alongside the cars of Presley’s various staff. She didn’t own the club, but she might as well have. The owner was some big high roller from Hong Kong who pretty much gave her the keys and told her to have at it. Not that the dude hadn’t made back his investment and then some, Diablo turning into one of the hottest clubs in the city under Presley’s control. And regardless of how beautiful she was, there wasn’t a person alive who could deny she was one hell of a businesswoman.

  The noise spilling out into the parking lot was minimal, the thick walls containing both the music and whatever else was going on inside the club. And had I not been fairly familiar with Diablo and its layout, I might have totally missed the small side entrance the staff used.

  My hand yanked on the door, pulling it open to be hit with a wall of sound. The entrance was obscured by a partition, hiding it from the general public and giving me a minute to adjust before being assaulted with the rest of the activity from the club. Not that it mattered, I hadn’t even made it two feet before some asshole grabbed me by the shirt.

  “Hey, it’s me, Leighton.” I raised my hands, recognizing it was one of Presley’s security goons. They weren’t so much as a crew as they were a small army, all of them close to seven foot and made linebackers look like they needed to hit a gym. “I just parked out back.”

  He brought his face in closer, checking me out before releasing the grip on my shirt. “Should have come in the front. You were ten seconds away from getting put through a wall.”

  Yeah, no shit.

  “Noted. I’ll remember for next time.” I straightened my shirt, wondering if the guy wouldn’t be in a better mood if he laid
off the steroids. “Presley around?”

  “She is. Wait at the bar.” He pointed to it, in case I was blind or stupid and couldn’t locate it myself.

  “I’ll just go to her office.” I tipped my head to the opposite direction. Assuming if she wasn’t on the floor, she was at her desk. And I’d found my way in there with Tibbs at least a dozen times. Probably for the best if she was there too, the conversation we needed to have, not for public consumption.

  He shook his head, taking a step closer and folding his arms across his chest. “I said, you’ll wait at the bar.”

  And as much as I wanted nothing more than to prove to the asshole that I wasn’t some dumbass who couldn’t handle himself in a fight, I hadn’t come to Diablo to cause a scene. Not to mention that if one of the staff called in the brawl, I’d have NYPD crawling up my ass and have a lot of explaining to do. Best to avoid that, at least in the short term.

  “Sure.” I forced a smile, wondering if his hostility was on account his balls had probably shriveled up and he could no longer get hard. “If you could let her know I’m here, that would be good.”

  Knowing perfectly well being treated like the help would piss him off, I chuckled as I headed to the bar. Besides, chances were Presley had eyes on us already with her fancy surveillance system. And I wasn’t leaving until we talked.

  Presley

  “BOSS,” BENNETT RAPPED at my door, “got a minute?”

  A minute was exactly what I didn’t have.

  I’d spent more of my evening in my office than I’d have liked, trying to refine my pitch for Diablo’s expansion. My plans made harder considering my head wasn’t a hundred percent in the game. I hated I was distracted; I’d been so good at keeping my personal life out of my head when I walked through the club doors. But tonight . . . well, it had been more than a challenge. And while most people would have been content with managing one of the most successful clubs in the city, I wanted more. I refused to let my plans be derailed by my deadbeat ex or by my possibly—not that I’d felt that way last night—poorly chosen one-night stand.