Dedication
This book is dedicated to Jay Crownover.
Thank you for your friendship,
for inspiring one of the scenes in this book,
and for being you. I love you, friend.
Acknowledgments
This series has been brewing in my head for a while. I love the concept of five best friends who are also business partners. I feel like I have women like this in my life as well. I couldn’t do this job without the amazing team that supports me.
I need to say a heartfelt thank you to Kevan Lyon, my agent, for your unwavering confidence and support. You are simply the best there is, and I can’t tell you how grateful I am to have you.
To my editor, Amanda Bergeron, thank you so much for taking a chance on me and this series, and for being so patient with all of my questions and requests. You have made this experience fun and exciting. Thank you for all you do!
A special thanks goes out to Brad Yunek and Dan Keseloff, the writers of If I Had Never Met You. Thank you for the many hours you’ve dedicated to this project, and for sharing your incredible talent with me. I absolutely love the finished product, and couldn’t have asked for a better song to fit Jake and Addie’s story.
And finally, to Sarah Post, the chef who developed the recipes for Jake and Addie’s date night. You have been a joy to work with! Thank you for sharing your talent with me.
Contents
Dedication
Acknowledgments
Chapter One: Addison
Chapter Two: Jake
Chapter Three: Addison
Chapter Four: Jake
Chapter Five: Addison
Chapter Six: Jake
Chapter Seven: Addison
Chapter Eight: Jake
Chapter Nine: Addison
Chapter Ten: Jake
Chapter Eleven: Addison
Chapter Twelve: Jake
Chapter Thirteen: Addison
Chapter Fourteen: Jake
Chapter Fifteen: Addison
Chapter Sixteen: Jake
Chapter Seventeen: Addison
Chapter Eighteen: Jake
Chapter Nineteen: Addison
Chapter Twenty: Jake
Epilogue: Addison
About the Author
Praise
Also by Kristen Proby
Credits
Back Ad
Copyright
Excerpt from Close to You
Prologue: London
Chapter 1: Cami
About the Publisher
Chapter One
Addison
“ ‘In summary,’ ” Cami, one of my very best friends, and a business partner, reads from the Portland Tribune, “ ‘Seduction is a restaurant unlike any other I’ve experienced. The food is delicious, the wine bar impressive, and the ambiance so sexy, it will take your breath away. I highly recommend this restaurant for your next date night.’ ”
“I want to send that reviewer flowers,” Mia says with a wide smile. “Who would have thought that just six months after opening this place, we’d already have a review like this?”
“Well, it’s a no-brainer that they’d love the food,” I reply, and reach for the paper so I can read it again for the fifteenth time. “You’re a genius in the kitchen, Mia. We’ve known that since we were in high school.”
“I still get nervous, especially now that I never know who the customers are going to be. We didn’t even get a heads-up that this guy was going to be here.” Mia bites the cuticle on her thumb and frowns. “Maybe I should add to the menu.”
“The menu is perfect,” Cami replies with a shake of her blond head. “He loved us.”
We smile at each other, and finally I do a little happy dance in my seat. We haven’t opened for the day yet. Kat and Riley, the final two business partners in our fivesome, haven’t arrived. But Mia, Cami, and I have read this article over and over again, smiling and dancing.
Rejoicing.
Because damn it, we’ve worked our asses off since we opened the doors six months ago. All of our eggs are in this basket. We can’t fail.
And we won’t.
We hear the front door open and close, and I expect to see either Riley or Kat, but instead Jeremy saunters into the dining room, looking all rumpled and messy from sleep. His eyelids are still heavy. His chin is scruffy. His blond hair is standing on end, still in chaos from my fingers last night.
Jesus, this man makes my hormones work overtime.
He grins and kisses my head, then picks up my coffee and sits next to me.
“Why are you here?” Cami asks with a frown. “I’m in too good of a mood to have to pretend to like you.”
I glare at my best friend, but she just shrugs.
“My girlfriend is here,” Jeremy replies and sips my coffee. “I missed her.”
“Please,” Mia whispers with a roll of the eyes. My friends used to like Jeremy, in the beginning, but now they make it no secret that they don’t care for him. But they are just overprotective. They don’t want to see me get hurt. Sure, he’s a musician. Not a particularly gifted one at that, but he does well, booking gigs for his band, Hells Roses, regularly.
And, oh my God, what the man can do in the bedroom should be a felony. He makes me laugh, and despite his arrogant persona around everyone else, he has moments of real vulnerability and sweetness when we’re alone.
Is he the one? Probably not, but I’m pretty much convinced that the one was invented by romance novelists and Disney.
“Be nice,” I snap and continue to read the paper. “We got a kick-ass review in the Tribune,” I inform Jeremy with a grin.
“Of course you did,” he replies and kisses my cheek. “Are the music reviews in there too?” He snatches the paper and shifts through the pages, then reads through the reviews of the music and club scene in Portland. “Not one fucking mention?”
Cami catches my gaze, then crosses her eyes in annoyance. I simply shrug. He’s not in the restaurant business. He wouldn’t understand what a big deal this is for us.
“I’ve been thinking,” I begin, and lean my elbows on the table. “Now that business is picking up, I think we should add live music on the weekends.”
“Sorry, cupcake,” Jeremy says with a sigh. “We’re booked.”
Thank God. Jeremy’s band isn’t the one I’d want for my place. But rather than jab at his ego, I simply smile and kiss his shoulder.
“I know, babe. But I’d still like to bring in someone. Maybe just a one-person act, just a microphone and a stool, you know?”
“We can afford it,” Cami replies with a thoughtful frown. Cami is our chief financial officer. She handles all things money, and she’s a wizard at adding up figures in her head. “Who are you thinking?”
“I don’t know.” I reach for my coffee mug and frown when I see that Jeremy has sucked down every last drop. “Babe, will you please run over to Starbucks and get us more coffee?”
“I forgot my wallet,” he replies with a scowl. I reach into my bag and pass him a twenty. “You got it.”
“Thank you.”
“Oh, and one place you might look for a musician,” he adds as he steps away from the table, “is the open-mic night at Crush this Saturday. There are usually some good acts there. I’d bet you’d find what you’re looking for.”
I grin at my sexy boyfriend and blow him a kiss. “Thank you.”
He winks and saunters out of the restaurant. When the door closes behind him, Mia shakes her head at me. “Seriously?”
“Open mic night is a brilliant idea,” I inform her.
“That’s not what she’s talking about,” Cami says. “Jeremy is a douche bag.”
“He is not.” I roll my eyes and sit back in my chair. Okay, maybe he has
douchey moments. “He’s sweet. And sexy.”
“And mooching off of you. His wallet was in his back pocket,” Mia argues. “And I’ll bet all of this month’s chocolate budget that he’s staying with you too.”
“His roommate moved out, and he couldn’t afford his place alone.”
“Addie.” Cami reaches for my hand. “You are not a doormat.”
“He doesn’t treat me like a doormat.”
“Yes. He does.” Mia sighs and takes my other hand. “You deserve so much better.”
“I love you both,” I begin, my stomach heaving. “I know you just want to protect me. Jeremy is a good guy. I like him.”
“Okay.” Cami sips her coffee, then shrugs one slim shoulder. “But when he breaks your heart, we’ll be here.”
“Let’s talk about this open-mic night. Who’s going with me?”
Mia and Cami exchange glances.
“I’ll be working,” Mia says. “I have some new Saturday night specials I want to try.”
“I don’t want to,” Cami says honestly. “I trust you to find exactly what we need.”
“I’ll take Kat.” I chew my lip, ideas already swirling in my head. “She’s a good judge of these things.”
“Good idea.”
The door opens again.
“Oh good. Mr. Wonderful is back,” Cami mutters.
“HOW DO YOU do that to your hair?” Riley asks from her perch on my vanity stool, eating Chunky Monkey ice cream from the carton as I twist my hair into chunky ringlets. I’ve streaked it with purple tonight.
“It’s not hard. It just takes practice, but once you get it down, it goes fast.”
“I like the purple,” she says with a grin. “And the painted-on jeans. You have a great ass.”
I grin and turn to the side, eyeing my ass in these jeans. She’s right. My ass isn’t bad. I could do without the hips, but what are you gonna do?
“Should I wear a jacket over this top?” It’s a flowy, black camisole, showing off my cleavage, but not hugging my problem areas.
“No. It’s hot. You’ll either find a hot singer for the restaurant, or a date.”
“I have a date.” I glance up to the heavens. “Give me strength.”
“Jeremy isn’t a date,” Riley replies as she scrapes the bottom of the ice cream carton. “He’s someone to fuck.”
“Riley!”
“Truth,” she says with a shrug. “And nothing wrong with it either, as long as you know the score.”
“Well, the sex doesn’t suck.” There’s a sharp knock on my bedroom door, and then Kat walks in, looking tall and gorgeous and freaking badass. Her red hair is pinned up. She’s in a sleeveless top, showing off her awesome ink, and she’s in mile-high pink stilettos.
“It should be illegal to look that hot,” Riley says with a sigh. “You’re both hot.”
“Why aren’t you coming with us?” Kat asks.
“Because I have a new marketing plan to come up with for this new music act.”
“Excuse,” Kat says, watching me apply my makeup. “And speaking of a hottie, hello, bombshell.”
I grin at her in the mirror. “You’re the hottest date I’ve had in a long time.”
“Back at you.” She winks. “Okay, what are we looking for tonight? Addie, this is your show, I’m just here to help.”
“It’s our show,” I reply.
“The front of the house is yours, and you do an awesome job with it.” Riley slicks some of my lipstick on her full lips, checks herself out, then vigorously wipes it off. “I can’t do lipstick.”
“I want to find a one- or two-person act.” I tease my hair, until it falls just the way I want it to. “Someone with a sexy voice. I’m thinking Gavin DeGraw–ish.”
“Hot.” Kat nods in agreement. “How much can we spend?”
“Let’s try to keep it around five hundred a night,” Riley replies. “Cami said that’s how much we can comfortably spend.”
“That’s not bad. Let’s just hope we find someone. I already put a sign in the window too. It doesn’t hurt.”
“Okay. Let’s do this.” Kat leads us out of the apartment.
“Have fun,” Riley says and waves as she walks to her car.
“This is gonna be fun,” Kat says, then fist-bumps me and leads me to her car.
“CAN I GET you another chardonnay?” the waitress asks Kat, who shakes her head no.
“I’ll just take a Diet Coke.”
“Same for me.”
The waitress nods and moves on.
“Wine not good here?” I ask Kat with a grin.
“Tastes like piss,” she replies. “I totally understand wanting to serve an inexpensive bottle, and there are some delicious ones out there. There’s no excuse for serving subpar wine.”
My smile grows. “It turns me on when you turn on your wine-speak.”
“It’s what I do.”
“And you do it well.” And she does. Kat is the best sommelier in the Pacific Northwest. She knows wine.
“What do you think so far?”
We are seated at a high table, near the stage, in the center of the room, so it’s easy to see the acts. Right now a young woman is singing a Trisha Yearwood song off-key.
“I haven’t heard anything to write home about.”
Kat nods in agreement, then glares at the man who just grabbed her ass as he walked by. “Keep your hands to yourself, buddy.”
He shrugs and smiles unapologetically, then keeps walking.
“Men are gross,” Kat mutters.
They sure can be.
The off-key girl finishes her song and we applaud. Next up is a throwback from 1967. Except the guy is young—maybe twenty-two. His dreadlocks fall to the middle of his back. He has a beard. His clothes are dirty.
He’s probably a homeless guy who usually sings on the street.
But then he starts to sing, and oh my word. He has the voice of an angel, singing “Hallelujah” as if he were singing it from heaven. We’re mesmerized as he plays his guitar and sings.
He’s amazing.
When he finishes, the applause is deafening.
“Wow.” Kat turns her wide blue eyes to me. “Did you hear that?”
I nod. “We’ll get his contact info. If we could clean him up, he could be perfect.”
“If he’d be willing to clean up,” Kat replies. “This could be what he wants.”
Several more lukewarm acts play, then a duo take the stage. A man and woman, who look at each other with stars in their eyes, and sing a love ballad. Their harmonies are smooth as silk.
“I like them,” Kat says as she leans my way. “They have the right look. And they’re in love, which will bring a sexy chemistry to our place.”
“I agree.”
I want them. Like, want them. They’d be absolutely perfect.
“I’m going to go talk to them.” Kat nods, turning her attention to another act already singing.
They’re not nearly as good as the duo who just finished.
“Excuse me.” They turn to me, and I paste on my best smile. “I’m Addison. I’m the co-owner of Seduction, a new restaurant in town, and I’d love to talk with you about a possible weekend job at my place.”
They glance at each other and grin. “Thank you. I’m Rebecca.” The small blonde shakes my hand. “And this is my husband, Paul.”
“You’re both very talented.”
“It’s all her,” Paul replies and stares down at Rebecca with heart eyes.
“I need an act for Friday and Saturday nights. I’m paying five hundred a night.”
“Five hundred each?” Rebecca asks, her eyes suddenly shrewd.
“No.” I shake my head. “For the act.”
They glance at each other again, and Paul shakes his head. “Sorry. We’re worth more than that.”
“What do you normally charge?”
“Oh, we haven’t taken any jobs yet. We’re new to the area.”
I raise a brow. ?
??You’re worth what someone is willing to pay. It was nice to meet you.”
Without glancing back, I return to our table. “Egos,” I say simply and shrug.
“Bummer.”
“It happens.”
A man walks onto the stage and sits on the stool, strums his guitar. The MC didn’t announce his name.
The singer is wearing a black T-shirt and jeans. No shoes. A hat is pulled down his forehead, shadowing his face.
But I’d recognize those tattoos anywhere.
“Oh my God, I think that’s Jake Knox,” I whisper to Kat in disbelief.
“The tattoos,” she breathes and I roll my eyes. “God, I used to be in love with him. I had his posters on my walls when I was in high school.”
“Most did,” I reply and watch as his fingers play the strings on his guitar as if he’s making love to a woman. “God, he can play.”
“What’s he doing at an open-mic night?” Kat turns wide eyes to me. “Does he live here?”
I nod. “Yeah, I heard somewhere that he lives nearby. Maybe he needs an ego boost?”
But then he begins to sing a familiar Lifehouse song, and my chest tightens. I love this song. I love his voice. It’s raw and rich and just a little bit raspy. It’s pure sex.
“He’d be absolutely perfect.” Kat’s voice is a whisper. She probably didn’t mean to say it out loud.
“I know we can’t afford him. He probably plays at celebrity weddings and shit.”
Jake glances up, showing his face and those amazing green eyes for the first time, and aims them right at me. He sings at least five lines, holding my gaze, then winks and lowers his head again.
Arrogant.
“Speaking of egos,” I murmur. “That would be a hot mess.”
“A sexy-as-fuck hot mess,” Kat replies. “God, look at the way his muscles bunch as he plays.”
Trust me, I noticed. You’d have to be blind with an IQ of minus 20 to not notice the way Jake Knox moves. He makes everything in me come awake. Which makes sense because he’s probably been trained to do that. He has to sell music, after all.
He finishes the song and leaves the stage. There are murmurs in the audience. We obviously weren’t the only ones to recognize him. Let’s be honest, Jake Knox is one of the biggest rock stars there is.