Wild in the Windy City Volume 3: New Year's Eve Edition

  Wild in the Windy City

  Volume 3

  Rachel Brookes

  J.D. Hollyfield

  Jenna Galicki

  Lisa Suzanne

  M. Piper

  MC Decker

  Audrey Carlan

  Shantel Tessier

  S. Moose

  Leslie McAdam

  Jordan Marie

  K.I. Lynn

  Bethany Lopez

  Sapphire Knight

  H.Q. Frost

  L. B. Dunbar

  L A Cotton

  L.M. Carr

  Contents

  Book Description

  Chase ~ L.B. Dunbar

  Show Me ~ S. Moose

  Only for Tonight ~ Rachel Brookes

  2am Secrets ~ M. Piper

  Stranger Sex ~ Audrey Carlan

  A Crash Course in Love ~ L.M. Carr

  New Year’s Day Delivery ~ Jenna Galicki

  Ruby ~ L A Cotton

  Happy Blue Year ~ Lisa Suzanne

  Countdown ~ M.C. Decker

  The Hunter ~ H.Q. Frost

  Celebrity Dirt ~J.D. Hollyfield

  A Vendetti Holiday ~ Sapphire Knight

  Frat House Confessions: NYE ~ Bethany Lopez

  That Night ~ K.I. Lynn

  Rayne ~ Jordan Marie

  Freckled ~ Leslie McAdam

  Champagne Wishes ~ Shantel Tessier

  More From Excessica!

  Book Description

  New Year's Eve on Navy Pier.

  A sexy, breathless night.

  Twenty-one authors bring magic, steam, and romance to the Resolution Gala on Navy Pier this New Year’s Eve. Don’t miss the fireworks.

  *The authors included in this set are chart topping authors from around the globe that love romance. They're donating all sales proceeds to Bernie's Book Bank.*

  Chase ~ L.B. Dunbar

  Jared

  The click of a latch falling into place jolted me from my sleep. I’d been dreaming, but I couldn’t remember what it was about. A girl. Raindrops. A clock. My head rolled on the pillow, and instantly, I sprang up like a push-up. Twisting at the waist, I flipped to a seated position and noted the missing orange sweater dress.

  Bolting from the bed, I found my old gray sweats on the floor, and reached for my glasses. My phone lay near them, and I took a quick glance at the messages, finding only the one she’d sent the night before.

  If you like piña coladas…

  Shit.

  Then I noticed the writing on a piece of paper where my phone sat.

  You’re the man that I’ve looked for.

  Come to me when you want to escape.

  I would have chuckled at her getting the words wrong once again if I wasn’t in so much of a panic that she’d left. I raced for the door, yanking open the barrier and rushing into the hall. The elevator was down the corridor, yet I heard the ding of its arrival. Sprinting over the carpeted floor, I entered the waiting space to find the doors closed and the down arrow lit. My eyes searched for stairs. Running back down the hallway, I slammed through the emergency exit and bolted down the anterior staircase, skipping steps as I went, cursing while at the same time not understanding my anxiety.

  She couldn’t leave me.

  I was Jared Kane. Rock star. Bass guitarist for Collision.

  I wasn’t that vain, but I also hadn’t ever had a girl leave.

  I’d always been the one to go first.

  I’d also never brought a woman to my room, made love to her at midnight—not fucking, she said—and then allowed her to sleep over so we could do it two more times.

  Jared, you idiot, what were you thinking?

  Here’s the thing. For the first time, I didn’t think. I’d been overthinking everything lately. Life decisions. The course of the band. Love. And I was driving myself crazy. I needed a break.

  Only I continued to rush down the stairs like the building was on fire, and even though I knew I’d never catch her at the bottom, I had to try. Pushing through the security door I stumbled into the lobby and froze when I saw Petty entering the building through the revolving door.

  “Did you see her?” I asked as I spun in a circle, hoping to catch a glimpse of an orange sweater lingering somewhere in the expanse of the brightly lit lobby.

  “And mornin’ to you, too.” Petty chuckled as I gripped his shoulders, not realizing I’d spun him in a circle with me. We looked like we were dancing, or I was holding him back from leaving me. I released his shoulders and stepped back from my bandmate and one of my best friends. Jon Petty played the drums in Collision, and his wild dirty blond curls were his signature along with a wicked understanding of how to use his sticks, and I wasn’t referring to his dick even though he was also famous for using that.

  “Where’ve you been?” I asked even though it was a stupid question, and I wasn’t waiting for an answer. We’d had a layover in Chicago after a concert, and Petty had gone out last night intent on getting laid. That was his mission every night. Not mine.

  I searched my phone, pulling up the text messages, ready to text her and ask her where she went.

  Lexi, the librarian—that was all I knew about her. I only had her number. Not her full name.

  Suddenly, a light bulb flashed, and I looked up. I could only imagine my expression. A look of surprise. Even more compromising was my appearance. Disheveled hair. Glasses. Sweats slipping down my hips as I stood in the lobby facing my friend in my bare feet.

  Another flash blinded me.

  Petty reached for my phone and positioned it to flash back at whoever took the picture.

  Click, click, click.

  “What are you doing?” I asked, reaching for my phone.

  “I’m getting them back. I can’t see a thing, and it freaks them out if they think I’m taking a picture of them while they’re taking a picture of me.” Petty fell into an evil and childish cackle as he continued to use my phone camera as a weapon against some rogue paparazzi.

  “Give me that,” I demanded, turning my back to the door and the glimmering light. “What did you do?” I whined as I clicked out of the camera and back to the text messages. Closing out of the app and tapping back in, it was gone.

  “Petty,” I ground out, my jaw clenching. “What. Did. You. Do?” I repeated.

  Tap out. Click back in. Tap out. Click back.

  The message exchange was gone.

  Her number was gone.

  I hadn’t saved her information as a contact.

  Deleted.

  “Petty!” Gripping his shoulders again, I clutched at his rumpled T-shirt, tugging him toward me. “It’s gone.”

  My eyes flipped back and forth between his. His playful, teasing pupils appeared as they never do—panicked.

  “Wha—”

  I held up the blank screen for him. “The text message was open when you took my phone. What did you press?”

  “I—”

  Shaking his shoulders, he wasn’t able to answer me.

  “It’s gone,” I repeated, glaring at him before glancing back at my phone. I craned my neck, looking over my shoulder.

  “She’s gone,” I muttered, and the flash of a camera blinded me once again.

  That was sixteen months ago, back in September. From that point on, every petite brunette who looked like Velma from Scooby Doo got my attention until Petty c
ouldn’t take it anymore, and Gage, the lead singer of our band, convinced me to let her go.

  “It wasn’t destiny,” he said, pausing to reconsider. “Or maybe it was.” Meaning it was meant to happen as it happened. Funny advice coming from a guy who fucked a girl and then pined for her for years before she became his wife.

  Tonight, we roll forward to another new year, and I’m back in Chicago, wondering with every turn of a corner if I’ll find her. While we normally spend the holiday season in Hawaii, the band being our family, I’m spending New Year’s Eve in Chicago this year. Specifically, I’m attending a gala at Navy Pier to scope out potential opening acts. The band has been off this year, writing more music and fine-tuning a new sound. When Gage’s wife had their third baby almost two years ago, he wanted to slow down, and I agreed with him. As happens with many bands, we were getting lost in our climb to fame. I already thought we had lost a little of ourselves since we no longer played the intimate clubs and dive bars of our earlier days. With our band manager, Tommy Carrigan, at the helm, we’d risen further than I ever thought we’d go, especially after we lost Cash Bennett, one of our original members.

  I shake my thoughts of another best friend, feeling morbid instead of festive for the holiday. Maybe it was the fact I was back in Chicago and had no idea where she could be. Is she still a librarian? Do you know how many libraries Chicago has? Eighty-eight. And the surrounding counties have another fifty-four. I know this because I called each one, looking for a girl named Lexi. Who liked the color orange. Who looked like Velma. Who smelled like fall, rain showers, and piña coladas.

  Dammit.

  Gage was right. I needed to let her go, yet I couldn’t.

  She’d been the first girl I brought to my room.

  The first girl to leave me.

  The first girl I’d made love to.

  Don’t get me wrong, I’m a rock star, and I’ve fucked plenty of women. One-night stands aren’t really my thing, but I’m known to occasionally give in to my base desires on the road. However, she was different. I knew it just as I knew how to play the strings, how I loved to read, and how she fit with me.

  Lexi. The librarian.

  A firm hand cups my shoulder, and I stand straighter.

  “You okay?” The gruff voice of Tommy Carrigan, our manager, surprises me. I’m jumpy tonight, feeling on edge, and the last place I want to be is a party.

  “Yeah, just…” What? What was I? Distracted. Not feeling like myself. Longing for something. I didn’t like to compare myself to Gage and his beautiful wife, Ivy. They’ve been lovers for a long time, and sometimes, they are just downright annoying to watch. Other times, I question if I’d missed out on something. When Tommy married his wife, Edie, in their mid-forties, I had this strange sense I didn’t want to wait that long to find my someone. I’m nearing mid-thirty, and even though I don’t feel middle-aged, I heard this is the time men often have a midlife crisis. I’m just…tired, I guess. “It’s been a long day.”

  The answer didn’t come quickly, but it offers an explanation Tommy can relate to. We holidayed in Hawaii and then left on a redeye at midnight last night to be here tonight. I offered to come here with Tommy—to the city where his wife lived before she moved to California.

  “I’m happy to keep this evening short if it gets me back to Edie by midnight.” Tommy chuckles, and I don’t have to ask why he wants to return to his wife. Making love at midnight sounds like a dream. Welcome in the new year inside someone special…it’s all a fantasy. And whenever I think of midnight, I always think of Lexi.

  The wrong number. A text message. The lyrics to an old song.

  If you like making love at midnight…

  Yeah, I never knew I would, and it looked like it would never happen again.

  Lexi

  “Why am I doing this again?” I ask my roommate, Marine. She’s Daphne incarnate from the Scooby Doo days with her rust-colored hair flowing down her shoulders to her breasts, like arrows pointing at the highlight of her body.

  “Because it would be lame to stay at home alone on New Year’s Eve,” she admonishes, clutching my shoulders and looking over one of them at me in the full-length mirror in my room. We live in a small apartment not much larger than our old college dorm. “Besides, you look beautiful.”

  While I didn’t agree fully with my best friend, I didn’t disagree. I felt like a princess in the black gala ball gown, complete with strapless neckline and full skirt. My near-black hair was piled on my head, and a singular necklace with midnight-colored gems outlines my neck. I look a little like Audrey Hepburn in Sabrina with my bangs cut shorter and thinner. The rest of my hair has enough spray in it to lacquer a cabinet, but I do feel pretty, and the West Side Story classic floats through my head.

  Better than another song about piña coladas, rain, and midnight.

  I hate how significant the number twelve on a clock has become, and being that this holiday revolves around time, I’m doubly apprehensive about celebrating this evening. I’d like to be in bed with the latest Letty Pierce novel and asleep before I witness midnight.

  “Champagne, hot guys, and all the kissing,” Marine squeals dreamily by my ear, drawing me back to the present and brushing away a night in the past. A foolish, beautiful night where I slept with a rock star who never looked back.

  You’re the man that I’ve looked for.

  Come to me when you want to escape.

  I memorized what I wrote, scrutinized over it, and then chastised myself. It was too much, and I shouldn’t have left the scribble behind. Obviously, I wasn’t the lady he looked for as he never wrote to me to escape or, rather, texted me. It was all my fault. Finding gumption I didn’t have, I invited a research partner out for drinks, only I texted the wrong number and got him instead.

  Jared Kane.

  Quiet, studious-looking, tattoo-covered, bass guitarist.

  I hated that while I disappeared from his life, his life was plastered everywhere. I couldn’t get away from the memories while the memory of me obviously escaped him.

  He seemed so different that night.

  Kind.

  Tentative.

  Nervous.

  But he was none of those things once he kissed me. My mouth waters with the recall, and Marine releases me. She fluffs out my skirt one more time, admiring the layers upon layers of organza fluttering around my hips and down to my feet. It isn’t quite the sleek clubbing look she has going on with her dark green, skin-hugging dress, which emphasizes her long legs and matches her eyes. She’s more take me to bed or lose me forever while I’m more steal me away in the night and never let me go. We’re opposites other than our brains. I’m a librarian at the university. She’s a marketing representative for Navy Pier. Bookworm. Socialite. How we connected always baffles me, yet we’ve been best friends ever since we met.

  “It’s so full,” she says, not mocking but fussing, strangely obsessed with the fluttering flow. “I want you to have fun tonight. Drink too much. Kiss a stranger. Hook up with someone.”

  “Yes, Mom,” I tease although my mother would never suggest such a list.

  “It’s a new year, Lexi. Time to turn over a new leaf.”

  I don’t tell her the only leaf I want to turn over is a page in a book because I know she’ll chastise me. She’ll tell me there’s more to life than books—like living my life—and I can’t disagree. I just haven’t found that something more.

  “The car will be here any minute.” One of the perks for Marine tonight is a hired car. Ubers were too risky with the demand on such an evening, and her boss wants to make certain she arrives and leaves without issue. It’s a big night. The Pier will be alive with hundreds of thousands of people with high hopes for a new decade. Me included.

  Decked out in gold and black, the circular room is highlighted by an extensive number of glass doors with a view of Lake Michigan. I hate the loneliness I feel despite the sea of people. As Marine’s plus-one, I knew she couldn’t stick with me,
needing to check on the news crews covering the night as well as the entertainment, VIP guests, and the bar, which is where she dumped me and I remain like a wallflower on the periphery of people. The night starts with a disc jockey, but I’m told Bulletproof will be the headliner. Just as I hadn’t been familiar with Jared’s band, I wasn’t any more knowledgeable about Bulletproof.

  Only after my encounter with Jared did I become a fan of Collision. I listened to all their albums, searching for his voice within the harmonies mixed with the smoky sound of their lead singer, Gage Everly. Gage had the typical rock star appearance of chin-length hair, artful scruff, and a dark look to his eyes. Jared, on the other hand, looked more like a co-ed. He didn’t wear his glasses when he performed, but he had them on during every interview, every photo-op, and every paparazzi shot in which a beautiful woman or two was occasionally on his arm.

  I won’t be jealous, I warned myself. None of those women looked like me. There was no comparison. Velma to Daphne, like myself to Marine. I’d never be one of them.

  I sigh as I sip my champagne. I’ll need to pace myself if I intend to make it until midnight. Secretly, I hope I’ll lose Marine in the crowd and make an early escape, despite her saying she’s counting on me to be around later in the evening. She’s promised not to slink off until after the clock strikes twelve.