Getting Lucky

Getting Lucky
Kayla Perrin

Lucky Annelise may be having the best sex of her life with her new man, but she can't help noticing her two closest friends and her sister—fresh from very recent, very public breakups—are miserable. So she does what any good friend would do: plans a girls' weekend in Vegas! In a town that emphasizes hedonism, Lishelle is sorely tempted. Between sensual masseurs and private exotic dancers…how's a girl to choose? She finally lets her guard down and beds the perfect guy for a no-strings-attached affair—a sexy rapper looking for a good time with no questions asked.Meanwhile, Claudia is busy getting her groove on with a younger man who makes her laugh. Even better, he's eager to please and—much to her delight—wants her to be in control in the bedroom. It's Samera who hits the jackpot, though, hooking up with a high roller and finishing off the night in his luxury suite.But Rusty has a dark side, and Samera can't get home to Atlanta—and away from Rusty's dangerous friends—fast enough. But once the friends return from Sin City, they all receive threatening notes, suggesting someone has been watching them all along. Maybe this time what happened in Vegas won't stay in Vegas….

Also by Kayla Perrin From Spice Books

CONTROL

OBSESSION

GETTING SOME

GETTING EVEN

Getting Lucky

Kayla Perrin

www.spice-books.co.uk (http://www.spice-books.co.uk)

This book is dedicated to my single girlfriends

who helped make last summer’s trip to Atlanta a blast:

Sharon Wickham, La-Reine Camara-Leslie,

and Karlene Millwood.

Here’s hoping that the next trip has some

wonderful romantic surprises in store for us!

Chapter one

Annelise

I WADDLE INTO THE RESTAURANT AS FAST AS my swollen belly will allow, heading for our regular table, where I can see Claudia is already waiting. Though we don’t have a standing reservation, the staff at Liaisons know us and keep our favorite booth available for us every week. No matter what is going on in our lives, Lishelle, Claudia and I get together every Sunday for brunch here. It’s our chance to get caught up on what’s happened with each other during the week, and to bitch without guilt—which we do a lot.

Lishelle is not here yet, for which I am glad. I want to talk to Claudia about the latest development first, in case Lishelle hasn’t heard.

That might be too much to hope for, though, given the fact that Lishelle is a local news anchor. The news is her business, and when it’s about a famous Atlanta hip-hop artist … well, she probably already knows.

All the more reason for us to be together today, so Claudia and I can support Lishelle as she deals with this shocking development.

Judging by the expression on Claudia’s face—and the fact that she’s staring at a newspaper on the table in front of her—I am certain that she is up-to-date on the bombshell.

“Hey,” I say cheerfully as I reach the table. My hand is on my belly, which I’m amazed has changed so much in a few weeks. I am five months pregnant, and have recently begun to show in a truly visible way. Three weeks ago, I had a small bump that you could only see if you were looking at me from the side.

Now, that belly has grown exponentially, and while it’s not huge, it’s big enough to make it clear to the world that I am definitely with child. Before I was pregnant, I would see women with tiny bellies waddling and holding their stomachs, and think they were simply doing it for effect. Now, I understand. The belly holding is more of a protective gesture, one that begins shortly after you know you’re with child. The waddling, I’ve learned, is what happens when you’re carrying around extra weight in your pelvic area that your body isn’t used to.

“Annelise,” Claudia says and rises. She wraps her arms around me, pulling me into a warm hug. Then she eases back, her gaze going to my belly. “You’re bigger than you were just last week.”

“I felt the baby for the first time,” I tell her, an ear-to-ear smile breaking out on my face. “On Friday night.”

Unless you’ve been pregnant, it’s difficult to understand how amazing it is to feel a tiny life flutter inside you, and the first time I experienced it, it was the biggest thrill. I was thankful that Dom, my boyfriend, was with me when it happened. It was just a small fluttering sensation, as though a butterfly were trapped inside me. But just like the moment when I saw the ultrasound and the proof of the life growing in my belly, feeling my baby move made my pregnancy very real.

In four months, I am going to become a mother.

“You felt the baby move?” Claudia asks, her eyes lighting up.

“Mmm-hmm.”

Claudia squeals in delight then places her hand gently on my ever-growing stomach, as if hoping to catch the baby in action. “I can’t believe it. Before we know it, you’re going to have a baby.”

“I know. Amazing how things can change in a year.”

Last year, I was in the dumps when my marriage ended. My husband, Charles, was having an affair. But worse than that, I found out he was embezzling money from the Wishes Come True charity, where he’d been a member of the board. Dom was an auditor investigating the embezzlement and, long story short, we fell hard for each other. One minute, my life had been at its lowest point being married to a man who didn’t love me, and who had become the subject of a huge public scandal. The next, I was on cloud nine, never imagining that I could be this happy.

The happiness of the moment dissipates as my eyes land on the newspaper Claudia has spread on the table. “You think she knows?” I ask.

Claudia shrugs. “Maybe. Probably. She works in the news. She must have heard something at the station.”

“Then again, maybe not,” I say. “It’s not like she does the entertainment beat. And she doesn’t work weekends. So … “ I let my statement trail off as I take a seat across from Claudia, figuring my words are wishful thinking at best.

I look at the picture in the Atlanta Journal Constitution she’s been reading, upside-down from my vantage point. But I can still make out the photo and the headline: One of Atlanta’s Most Eligible Bachelors Is Off the Market.

“Then again,” Claudia begins, “even if she’s heard, it’s not like it’s a big deal. She’s over Rugged.”

I meet Claudia’s eyes and stare at her for a long moment, wondering if she believes her own words. Sure, Lishelle has told us over and over again that she doesn’t want a relationship with Rugged. She has stressed that he was simply a fling. And granted, she’s the one who broke up with him. But still, I have never quite believed that she wasn’t really into him.

Lishelle went through a bitch of a breakup with a guy she was crazy about before she met Rugged—although breakup isn’t the right word, since Glenn wasn’t hers to begin with. I know how hard it was for me to learn my husband was cheating on me, so I can only imagine that it was far more devastating for Lishelle to discover that her college flame—the one she still held a torch for—lied about being married when he came back into her life years later. The prick had used her for her money, stringing her along real good until he was able to steal a ton of cash from her. Ever since that betrayal—and considering she was also married before but divorced because her husband cheated on her—she’s been understandably guarding her heart.

At least, that’s my opinion. Because with Rugged—a local rap sensation and six years her junior—she was a different person. Happier, more vibrant. And she hasn’t quite been the same since she told him that their relationship could never go anywhere, and subsequently ended things with him.

Still, I say to Claudia, “I guess you’re right. She’s the one who broke up with him.”

“Exactly,” Claudia stresses, and then her eyes flit over my shoulder. Quickly, she grabs the newspaper, folds it and tosses it under the booth. Which tells me Lishelle has arrived.

And it also tells me that what Claudia just said—that the news of Rugged’s engagement will be no big deal to Lishelle—is hogwash.

I turn to see our friend heading toward us with a purposeful stride. She has the kind of beauty that looks effortless, but with her black hair flat-ironed straight, big, black sunglasses covering her eyes and a formfitting black dress more appropriate for a Saturday night, she looks like a supermodel this morning.

“Hey, ladies,” she all but sings as she reaches us. She bends over to kiss my cheek, then takes a seat beside Claudia. “Sorry I’m late. I was … occupied.”

My eyebrows shoot up. The dress. That big-ass smile.

Claudia obviously has gotten the same vibe I have. “And why are you late?” she asks, eyeing Lishelle skeptically.

Lishelle slips off her designer sunglasses, a playful smirk on her face. “You want to know his name?”