Just Three Words (Soho Loft Romances) (10 page)

“Maybe you should take the meeting with me,” Mallory said.

“Fun times,” Brooklyn mused.

Mallory swiveled to Brooklyn. “Whatcha got for me, Brooks? What can I take them?”

Brooklyn sighed. It was her job to construct an idea they could pitch, and though Sam knew she was struggling with Serenity, she also knew she rarely came up short. “The problem is, there aren’t a million directions you can go with this one. They’re interested in a straightforward commercial spot, as humor and a serenity spa don’t really jibe. So, I’m thinking more a day in the life of a New York businesswoman. She’s pounding the pavement to work in sneakers, but we see her slip into serious heels as she arrives at the office. A series of quick shots follow and show our girl being slammed with calls, appointments, and a barrage of people who need things. But at the end of it all, we crossfade to her at Serenity. Gentle hands descend and slowly massage away the day’s tension as a flute of champagne is placed at her side—a complete contrast to where she’s been. It’s as if she’s entered a whole separate world. We watch a slow smile take shape on her face. She’s at peace. Total serenity.”

Sam blew out a breath. “I need a massage.”

“I’d like to head there now,” Hunter deadpanned.

Mallory lifted her head from the notes she’d taken and smiled. “Sounds like it worked on these guys.” She rubbed the back of her own neck. “And me, too, now that you mention it. Write it up. I’ll take it to Serenity later this week and maybe make an appointment while I’m there.”

Brooklyn fell dramatically back in her chair. “You like it? For real?”

Hunter snagged a salt and vinegar chip from Samantha’s plate. “No. We hate it and just like to screw with you.”

Samantha elbowed Hunter and stole one of her jalapeño chips in retaliation before refocusing on Brooklyn. “We love it.”

Brooklyn beamed. “I’d like to thank Jesus and Red Bull.”

Sam raised her Diet Coke in solidarity. “They both give you wings.”

“I like what you did there, Sammie,” Brooklyn said, tapping the Styrofoam cups together.

“Thanks. I’m the funny one in the apartment now, so I gotta step up my game.”

Hunter glared. “Excuse me. I’m funny.”

Brooklyn put her thumb and forefinger very close together in response. Hunter stared back at her, looking like an adorably confused puppy.

“You win stylish, though,” Brooklyn assured her.

“You do,” Mallory said all businesslike, without looking up from her notebook.

“I can be stylish and funny,” Hunter mumbled into her Dr Pepper.

The meeting continued, and they moved on to other clients, strategizing over problem-child accounts and how to keep their big fish, like Foster Foods, happy and impressed. The campaign they rolled out for Foster’s new line of summer drinks had proved to be a slam-dunk success when the commercial and print ads went live two months prior. While they were flying high on the good faith that campaign afforded them with Foster, it was important they not drop the ball while basking in the success.

Six hours later, Samantha was still at the office plugging numbers into a spreadsheet. It was one of those days where her brain was starting to feel fuzzy, and she was having trouble making out the numbers on the screen despite her incessant blinking. Mallory and Hunter were gone for the day, and Brooklyn seemed to be packing up at her desk.

“Headed home soon?” she asked Sam, coming around to her desk.

“Yeah. The stupid Serenity people want some kind of numbers magic. I don’t think it’s doable.”

“Then we tell them no.”

“Yeah, not sure Mal’s of the same opinion.”

“She will be. You gotta stick up for what you know. She trusts you. We all do.”

Samantha rubbed the back of her aching neck. “Yeah, you’re right. Just hard sometimes. Hey, I was hoping you would have time to grab some dinner. Want to?”

Brooklyn winced. “I’d love to, you know that, but I promised Jess I’d be home. She’s cooking, and that could go a lot of ways.”

Sam forced an understanding smile and tried to hide her disappointment. Ever since Brooklyn moved out, they’d seen each other in the course of business, and as always, joked around throughout the day. But it wasn’t the same. She missed her friend. She missed their long talks. Throwback Movie Wednesday.
Lucy
marathons.

As if she were reading Sam’s thoughts, Brooklyn perched on the edge of Samantha’s desk. “I do miss getting to talk with you, about life, about everything. Just us. We should make a point to get together more, just the two of us. Catch up on the little things.”

Samantha nodded. “I’d like that.” And she would. She hadn’t been in the best headspace since the breakup, and the distance she’d felt from Brooklyn only added to that.

“Perfect. We’ll do it. How are things going at the loft with Hunter?”

“Great. Good. Okay. Sometimes not.”

The office was empty but Brooklyn lowered her voice to a whisper anyway. “What? Does she bring girls home or something?”

“Actually, no. I’m starting to think we give her a harder time than she deserves on that front.”

“Please. She’s a player, and she loves it.”

“Maybe. But I think it might be more show than we realized.”

“I’d be shocked, but stranger things have happened.” Sam nodded and Brooklyn regarded her, looking at her sidewise in contemplation. “What’s with the look? There’s something bothering you about Hunter, isn’t there?”

Sam blew out a breath, giving into herself. “It’s stupid, but there are little things that are probably normal when you first start living with someone.”

“Like?”

“She puts the big knives in the silverware drawer.” Samantha held out a hand in emphatic punctuation.

Brooklyn’s eyes widened. “Uh-oh. I did that once. Never again.”

“Yeah, and she doesn’t really subscribe to any kind of schedule, which is harder for me because—”

“You’re a robot when it comes to your routine.”

“Right.”

“And when it’s disrupted, you—”

“Die inside.”

Brooklyn laughed. “A little dramatic, but yeah. You do. It’s rough for little Samantha to roll with the punches.”

“Yes, it is.” Sam ran a frustrated hand through her hair. “Thank you for getting that. It’s been a little touch and go. Sage advice?”

“Teach her where the knives go before you use one of them on her.” Brooklyn patted her head. “Night, Sammie-Sam.”

*

It was just past ten on Saturday morning when Hunter hit the sidewalk after her morning yoga class. April hadn’t taught it—a damn shame. But she’d attended anyway, needing a bit of re-centering. Her body now felt sated and alive, and with the day stretched out luxuriously in front of her, she was up for anything. She almost felt like jogging home, but c’mon—
let’s not get too crazy
.

The morning was a beautiful one and as she turned the corner onto their block, the aroma of coffee from the cart on the corner wafted past and had her full attention. She stopped and bought a cup for herself and one for Sam, picking up a couple of doughnuts as a bonus. A chocolate and a glazed. Yoga earned you doughnuts, and your roommate by proxy. Everyone knew this rule.

When Hunter slid open the door to the loft, she was met with music, which was cool with her. The fast-paced sounds of Usher breaking it down matched her mood perfectly. As she made her way into the apartment, she paused, watching as Sam sashayed to the downbeat and returned two coffee cups from the dishwasher to the cabinet above the sink. Samantha only wore a T-shirt, light blue. It covered her ass and the tip-tops of her thighs, but that coverage was undone each time she went up on her toes to reach the much taller cabinet. Hunter’s lips parted as she took in the visual. Her legs, while not especially long, were firm and smooth looking, and Hunter had a flash of her own hands running up their length. Sam’s auburn hair was down this morning and curly in an untamed kind of way, which only added to the alluring image. Hunter was perpetually intrigued by how some moments, Sam’s hair appeared brown, and in other moments, red. Today was a slightly red day, and the haphazard waves fanned out in a million different directions. Translation: sexy. Was it wrong that her mouth was now dry?

Right then, Samantha turned and danced back to the dishwasher, stopping abruptly when her eyes met Hunter’s.

“Hi.” She laughed, her hand flying to her forehead at having been caught. “How long have you been standing there watching my
So You Think You Can Dance
impersonation?”

Hunter opened her mouth to answer, but her mind wasn’t working. It was stuck on the expanse of creamy skin and the wonderfully curvaceous body in front of her. She’d always found Samantha attractive. Hell, she’d even admitted so a few weeks prior. But this scenario was taking that opinion to new and challenging heights. The girl was flat-out hot in her present state. And this mind-warp thing was new, because since when did her mind not work properly? She was the one with the smooth moves in life, and this inability to behave like a normal human was an unforeseen obstacle. “Oh. Um. Just a sec or two.”

“Lucky for you it was only that long.”

Or not, Hunter supplied internally. Oh, hey, her brain was back.

“Who are those for?” Samantha asked.

She stared down at the two cups of coffee in her hand and held one blindly out to Samantha. Hunter’s cheeks seemed to be giving off massive amounts of heat—probably from yoga. Definitely not from checking out her best friend’s awesome ass. Yeah, that was a total lie.

“For me?” Sam asked.

“Yep. Thought you might not have had your coffee yet. And there are doughnuts in the bag.”

“What?” Sam’s eyes widened in excitement and she snatched the bag, peering into it. “Way to bury the lead. No roommate has ever brought me doughnuts before.”

“No big deal. Also, you forgot your pants.”

Sam glanced down in nonchalance. “Yeah, I always unload the dishwasher before I shower. It’s a thing I have, routine. On my way there now.” She held up the coffee. “You’re the best for this. I’ll snag a doughnut after. Thank you.”

“No problem,” Hunter said as Samantha headed off in pursuit of her shower. As the music continued to play, she fell back on the sofa and stared at the ceiling. Okay, so
that
was kind of unexpected. And as hard as she tried, she wasn’t able to shake the overt reaction she’d just had to her partially clothed, incredibly sexy roommate. Her heart thrummed away and her body felt warm. Okay, more than that, on fire. And this was apparently an every-morning occurrence in her apartment? How was she supposed to maneuver that exactly? Because she couldn’t have those kinds of thoughts, not about Sam. There were a handful of women who were explicitly off-limits, and Samantha was one of them.

Maybe it was talking about her college crush on Sam that had prompted such a powerful surge of lust, just an aftershock of something that once was. She shook her head in mystification, because it sure felt like more than an aftershock.

Damn it.

Why couldn’t anything be easy?

She looked at Elvis, who sighed and laid his chin on her foot in solidarity. “Did you see what I saw?” Elvis merely blinked back. “You’re lucky you’re just a dog.” She shrugged. “Apparently, I am, too.”

*

Serenity Day Spa was kind of like a little slice of heaven on Earth. Samantha hadn’t been excited about accompanying Mallory on the client visit, mainly because she hated to be the bearer of bad news, and the bottom line was that Serenity was going to have to cough up more cash if they wanted Savvy to be able to work for them effectively. Plus, she preferred to work behind the scenes and let Mallory handle the schmoozing.

“Look at this place,” Mallory whispered. “Didn’t I tell you?”

“I think the Dalai Lama might live here,” Sam whispered back. “The girl version, though. Probably wears a bow.” It was part of Serenity’s platform, in fact, a spa for women only. And from everyone she’d seen entering and exiting the place,
beautiful
women only.

They were standing in what Samantha could only imagine was the lobby, but it was like no lobby she’d ever seen. The lighting was dim and the main wall held a rather realistic portrayal of a beachfront. Waves rolled in and then out again. Seagulls glided lazily overhead. Sam glanced around to find the projector, but came up short. It was so lifelike, it was jarring. All around them were the calming sounds of water, an occasional bird chirp, wind rustling past. A person could get lost here.

Serenity, indeed.

A receptionist with flawless skin and a perfect blond bun approached. “Ms. Spencer. Ms. Ennis. Eleanor will be with you shortly. Please, won’t you relax at our waiting station?”

A station? Well, okay. They could hang out at the station. She and Mallory took a seat on perhaps the most comfortable couch known to man as they waited for their meeting with the spa director. “What do you think this thing is made of?” Sam said, pushing down on the ultra-soft cushion. She could totally nap in this room. Would that be wrong?

“Five-hundred-dollar bills,” Mallory said without blinking. “Look around. They have cash, Sam. We’re not cutting them any financial breaks, agreed? We need to lock them in at budget number one or two.”

“I don’t really play hardball. That’s your job. I’m the sweet one, remember? I like to make friends.”

Mallory smiled. “Just follow my lead.”

That’s when yet another striking blonde approached. “Mallory, it’s so good to see you. And you must be Samantha. A joy. I’m Eleanor.” She held out her thin hand in greeting.

A joy? She’d accept joy. “It’s nice to meet you, Eleanor. This is an amazing space you have.”

“It’s transformative for all of our clients. It’s what Serenity does.” In not-at-all shocking news, Eleanor had a calming voice.

“Of course. I’ve heard great things.”

She smiled. “This way.”

Eleanor led them down a long hallway with sounds of the ocean and distant wind chimes accompanying them the whole way. They entered a conference room where a series of water pitchers, each containing a different type of fruit, lined the center of the table. Eye catching, the little pops of color within each pitcher.