His Invitation (X Enterprises Book 3)
His Invitation
X Enterprises Book Three
Tanya Gallagher
Penchant Press
Copyright © 2018 Tanya Gallagher
All rights reserved.
No part of this publication may be produced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, scanning, or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations within critical reviews and otherwise as permitted by copyright law.
This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, events, or locales is purely coincidental. Reproduction in whole or part of this publication without express written consent is strictly prohibited.
ISBN: 0-9998620-7-3
ISBN-13: 978-0-9998620-7-0
Cover design by Resplendent Media
Visit: www.tanyagallagherbooks.com
For everyone on Team Yoga Pants Are Real Pants.
Contents
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
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Epilogue
Coming Next
Books by Tanya Gallagher
Your Opinion Matters
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Chapter 1
Forty-six minutes into an hour-long episode of Mr. Eligible, Emma Harrington’s roommate, Sara, stepped into the living room, snapped off the TV, and dropped her hands to her hips.
“We need to talk.”
Emma looked up at her friend from her position on the couch. “What are you doing? You can’t just turn that off.” There was something riveting about watching impending disaster as the improperly-dubbed Mr. Eligible—who was totally not a catch—crushed hearts right and left.
Sara rolled her eyes. “What’s the big deal? The show is trash.”
“Of course it is,” Emma protested. “It’s a train wreck. Which is precisely why I cannot look away now. Who’s going to get the rose tonight? Who’s going to get the boot?”
“You’re being dramatic.”
Emma pressed a hand against her chest. “I need to know that everyone’s going to be okay in the end.”
Sara smiled. “I know you do, Ms. Matchmaker. But what I have to say is more important. I promise.”
“Fine,” Emma grumbled, patting the couch cushion beside her. “I’ll have to make do with a rerun. And apology donuts, if you have them.”
Sara held up her hands. “Sorry, no donuts.” She crossed the living room and perched on the edge of the sofa. Then she eyed the door like she was considering fleeing the room. “So, I don’t know how to say this…” Her voice trailed off, and she frowned, her face pale.
The hairs on the back of Emma’s neck stood up at Sara’s cautious tone. “Did someone die?”
“No, actually, the opposite.” Sara gave her a weak smile and wrung her hands. “I’m pregnant.”
“Holy shit!” Emma shrieked, launching herself into Sara’s arms. “That’s amazing!” She pulled back. “Wait, does Max know?”
Sara rolled her eyes. “Yes, Max knows. I mean, he was there when it happened.”
“Perfect!” Emma clapped her hands together. “Not an immaculate conception, then.”
“Not at all.” Sara rubbed a hand over her face. “I’m pretty sure that the last vibrator you brought home from work was the cause of this particular hookup.”
Emma grinned and raised an eyebrow. “That good, huh?”
“You’re like a fairy godmother, but instead of wishes you hand out sex toys.”
Emma preened. “It’s my pleasure.” One of the perks of working at X Enterprises, the hottest adults product manufacturer in the country, was the product testing program that employees could participate in. Add in the fact that Emma was their Quality Control Manager and that it was her duty to make sure all the toys met standard? Well, it was a tough job, but someone had to do it.
Emma tapped a finger to her lips. “You know, maybe I can bring you more toys home from work, and you can hang up a bunch of them and make a nice little sex toy mobile for the baby.”
Sara blanched, and Emma caught the queasy look on her face.
“What? Has getting pregnant killed your sense of humor?” Emma asked.
Sara’s eyes darted to the door again. “It’s just that the pregnancy is a good thing, but we might need to reevaluate our living situation.”
Emma’s chest tightened. “What do you mean?” She liked her living situation just fine, thank you very much.
“Max and I are going to move in together.”
“Right.” Emma drew in a deep breath. “Of course you are. That makes total sense.”
“The deal is I can either move into his place, which would mean you would have to cover all the rent here on your own, or he could move in here. And then we’d use your bedroom for the baby.”
“Use my bedroom for the baby, meaning I wouldn’t have a room?”
Sara sighed. “Yeah, I guess.”
“Meaning I would need to move out?” Her voice betrayed her rising panic, and Sara shot her a sympathetic look.
“Meaning you would need to move out.”
Well, shit.
The air sucked out of the room, leaving Emma gasping like someone had punched her in the stomach. “I don’t really want to cover the rent for this whole place on my own. It sounds like Max moving in here is the best option.”
Sara nodded.
Traitor.
“Okay.” Emma pinched the bridge of her nose. “How long do I have before the baby arrives?”
“Six months.”
“Good. That’ll give me enough time to get my things together and find a new place.”
“Um, actually.” Sara looked as uncomfortable as Emma felt. A clammy sheen rose on her skin, which was tinged the faintest green. “You know how pregnancy hormones can give you crazy morning sickness?”
“Yeah.”
“Well, the smell of your perfume makes me gag.”
Emma jerked back. Please, pile on the compliments. “Really? I’ll make sure I don’t wear it anymore.”
Sara wound her hands together. “Actually, it’s not your perfume. It’s you. I need you to find a new place as soon as possible.”
Emma’s mouth dropped open. “Jesus, Sara. You are not subtle.”
“I’m so sorry.” Sara pressed a hand to her stomach. “I feel terrible.”
Emma blew a stray hair off her face. “No, it’s fine. It’s a good thing I like you so much.”
“No, I mean I literally feel terrible.” The color drained from Sara’s face, and her forehead wrinkled as she frowned. A look of panic flashed over her features.
Emma placed a hand on Sara’s knee, and Sara cringed away.
Right. Because Emma made her nauseous.
Fan-flipping-tastic.
Emma’s own brow furrowed in concern. “How can I help?” she asked from her sid
e of the couch.
Instead of answering, Sara leaned over and puked on Emma’s shoes.
Emma closed her eyes in defeat. “Sounds like I need to clear out.”
Emma had once read a study that proved multitasking depleted a person’s ability to do either activity well, but when it came to eating and browsing through the internet at the same time, Emma was a pro.
She sat in the X Enterprises break room in front of her laptop, eating her salad left-handed while navigating through a million and one Las Vegas apartment listings with her right hand.
“What mischief are you up to with your computer?” asked Bex Kingsley, Emma’s friend and coworker, stepping into the room. “Chiming in on Twitter about last night’s Mr. Eligible scandal?”
Bex slid into the seat across from Emma, and Emma held up a hand to cut her off.
“Wait, don’t talk about the show. Last night Sara interrupted me fourteen minutes from the end of the episode, and I’m not caught up yet.”
“How dare she?” Bex teased. “They were fourteen critical minutes.”
Emma groaned. “I’ll bet.” She filled in Bex about the true life Sara’s-pregnanat-and-Emma’s-now-homeless scandal. She dropped her fork into her Tupperware container and pushed it away with a sigh. “I’m now hunting for the perfect roommate and apartment.”
“Don’t you want your own place? You’ve lived with other people the whole time I’ve known you.”
Emma wrinkled her nose. “Maybe I’m just a team player.”
Fiercely independent Bex, who’d flown solo until she met her fiancé a few months ago, shrugged a slim shoulder. “All I’m saying is you can afford it.” She didn’t say, Maybe you’re just scared, but it hung in the air, unspoken.
“Having a roommate isn’t going to limit my badassery. It’s just a personal preference.” Emma felt the crawling need to justify herself, but she tried to keep her voice light. “I like the security of having someone else there who has my back. Or, at least, who has a shared interest in keeping the place safe.”
“Fair.” A trace of doubt lingered on Bex’s face, but she swapped it for an encouraging smile like she knew she had overstepped. “Whatever makes you happy.”
“I’m going to work up to living on my own,” Emma assured her. “In the meantime, I only want a short-term lease. Something that’ll get me away from Princess Pukey and give me time to figure out a good long-term plan for my living situation.”
“So what are your choices?”
Emma sat up straighter in her chair and brightened. “Most short-term leases that I’ve found are about six months, but the frontrunner so far is a two-month lease. It’s in a good location, spacious, and it has on-site security surveillance.”
She spun the laptop to face Bex, who made a noise of approval.
“Want to know the best part?”
Bex smiled. “Of course.”
“It’s fully furnished. Meaning I can sell my furniture to Sara, and then I don’t have to move anything heavy.”
“Sounds like a win. As long as the roommate is decent.”
Emma tilted her head in acknowledgment. “True. But everyone who lists an apartment on this site has to go through a background check, so I already know this person’s not a criminal. And after my college roommate, I can survive anyone.”
Bex grimaced and flicked her eyes back to the glowing computer screen. She’d heard Emma’s stories, so there was no denying the truth of the statement. “Maybe you should arrange a tour.”
“Already done.” Emma steepled her fingers under her chin and grinned at the picture of the huge, gorgeous living room. “I’m headed there straight after work.”
The door to apartment 11A swung open, and Emma froze as her eyes landed on the man just past the threshold. He rubbed a hand over his dark-blond stubble and smiled at her. “You must be here to see the bedroom. Emma, right?”
She nodded, mute, and her face heated.
His brown eyes, sparkling with mischief, took a slow stroll over her body before flicking back to meet her gaze. It didn’t help that he was put-him-on-a-poster-and-stick-it-on-the-wall-so-you-can-stare gorgeous, with the kind of lips that could probably make a woman orgasm just by kissing her.
“You going to stand in the doorway and stare, or are you going to come in?” Those dangerous lips curled into a teasing grin.
“I just thought…” Emma shook her head and stepped into the room. “The ad online said to ask for D. Whistler.”
“And you assumed I was a woman.”
Emma shrugged.
“Nope.” The guy gestured up and down his body and smirked at her like he knew exactly how hot he was. It didn’t help that he had a gorgeous body—all lean muscle and golden skin. “D is for Deacon.”
“I see that.”
Deacon lifted an eyebrow. “Is that going to be a problem? Because we can spare ourselves the effort if you don’t want to live with a guy.” His teasing tone softened the bluntness of his words.
Emma swallowed hard. “No. That’s totally fine.” It had to be fine. She needed to clear out of her place before Sara ruined another pair of her shoes, and Deacon’s apartment was supposedly move-in ready. “I have a brother. I’m used to guy shenanigans.”
“Shenanigans?” He smirked again. “I’m going to hold you to that.”
She cocked her head. “But there are two bedrooms, right?” She peered over his shoulder, but from here all she could see was the kitchen and living room.
“Two bedrooms,” he confirmed. “I assume you want a tour.”
“That would be great,” Emma managed to say.
“Okay, then.” Deacon took a step toward her, and—dammit—a pretty little shiver of anticipation churned her stomach. He smelled like lime and cedar, and what the hell was wrong with her for wanting to fall into his arms right now?
Sadly, he was only reaching behind her to close the door.
“As you can see, we’ve got an open floor plan.” Deacon waved his hand around the room. “Kitchen, living room—”
“Amazing view.”
He shoved a hand into the pocket of his jeans and huffed out a laugh. It was a nice laugh—warm and inviting. “Yeah. Amazing view.”
The kitchen and living room were great—modern and sleek, with updated appliances and fixtures, and a picture of two cute little boys tacked on the fridge. But the centerpiece of the space was the far wall of the apartment. Huge floor-to-ceiling windows framed sliding glass doors that led out onto a balcony overlooking Las Vegas Boulevard. From here you could see all the way to the Fremont Street Experience, the outdoor area covered by a giant canopy that displayed an impressive light show each night. The glass stretched across almost the entire wall of the living room, providing an expansive view and the feeling that you were right in the heart of things.
Emma crossed the room to inspect the balcony, and as she stepped into the living room, her foot snagged on the plush rug laying over the carpet. “Ahh!” she yelped as she pitched forward.
A second before she smashed into the low, wood coffee table, a strong hand caught her by the elbow, and another hand landed on her waist and sent searing heat through her body.
“Easy, killer.” There was a smile in Deacon’s voice.
He hauled her to her feet, and Emma braced herself against the powerful muscles of his chest.
Oh.
He felt…good.
Despite the fact that he grinned down at her with that mischievous glint back in his eyes, his arms felt solid and strong and safe.
Emma’s heart thundered in her ears, and she took an unsteady step back. “Thank you.”
“Next time don’t take the phrase, ‘falling for you,’ so literally.”
She rolled her eyes. “I tripped on your rug, okay?”
“My grandma made that rug.”
“Yeah, well, it doesn’t lay flat. But good on her.”
Deacon laughed. “Want to see more?” He jerked his head to the right, in the directi
on of the bedrooms.
“Of course.”
“The lease is short-term,” he said as he led Emma down a short hallway. “Just two months, for now, with the option to renew. The building has a gym and laundry room down in the basement.”
“And a security system, right?”
“Right.”
Deacon stopped short in front of a bedroom door, and Emma was so distracted watching his ass that she almost crashed into him. It was a good ass. Strong. Tight.
Ho boy.
“This is my room.” Deacon pushed the door open just enough to reveal a dark room anchored by a messy bed. His room, like the living room, took advantage of the view, with a tall window facing out at the bustling street below. An electric guitar sat beneath the windowsill, but once again, the star of the show was Las Vegas herself.
“Nice,” she said.
He nodded in acknowledgment, then gestured over her shoulder at the door across the hall. “That one would be your room.”
Emma turned and blanched. The last roommate, whoever she was, had cleared out fast enough to have left her underwear on the doorknob. Her extra-small, crotchless underwear, as it turned out.
Oh, Jesus.
The blush that had started out in the living room deepened.
Deacon bit back a grin. “Everything okay?”
“Oh, sure.” Emma made herself smile. “But if you were trying to get me a housewarming present, flowers would have been just fine. For the record, I like lilies.”