Just One Spark: A Black Alcove Novel Read online

  Also by Jami Wagner

  Date in the Dark (A New Year’s Eve Novella)

  THE BLACK ALCOVE SERIES

  Just One Kiss

  Just One Night

  Just One Touch

  Just One Moment

  For Alyssa, Christian, Megan, and Trisha,

  I hope all women have friends as beautiful

  inside and out as the four of you.

  JUST ONE SPARK

  A BLACK ALCOVE NOVEL

  JAMI WAGNER

  Just One Spark

  Copyright © 2017 by Jami Wagner

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without the written permission of the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a review.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  Cover: Christa Holland, Paper and Sage Design, paperandsage.com

  Editor: Julie Sturgeon, CEOEditor, ceoeditor.com

  Formatting: Jesse Gordon, a Darned Good Book, adarnedgoodbook.com

  Visit my website: www.jami-wagner.com

  ISBN – 13: 978-1543226577

  ISBN – 10: 1543226574

  ASIN: B06W5HHX3Z

  ISBN: 9781370086801

  About Just One Spark:

  All Beth Moyer wanted was a one-night stand, an evening to relax and cut loose before she went to work at her new grown-up job. Instead, all she got was a few minutes that left her mortified and another reason why you can never trust a man.

  Maverick Mitchell is ready to prove he’s learned from his mistakes and move forward. But before it’s time to buckle down, one last fling won’t hurt. Or so he thought. On the first day of his new start, the feisty redhead he met over the weekend is the first person he sees.

  An office romance isn’t the smartest idea. Sneaking around is an even worse one, but neither can deny the fire that has sparked between them. Considering Beth and Maverick are competing for the same position and only one will be offered the job, they can only hope that every choice they’ve made doesn’t end up in flames.

  Chapter One

  Beth

  I haven’t had sex in more than a year. Tonight, I have every intention of changing that. All the late nights of studying, constant emails between professors over assignments or potential careers, and leaving work or barbeques with friends early to make sure I’m getting everything with school finished have finally paid off. I’ve landed my dream job and it’s time to celebrate—but more importantly, relax. And what better way than with some good old-fashioned one-night stand sex?

  That should be easy to do, too, since I’m in Rockland, Colorado, visiting my good friend Liam—who, thankfully, is the only person here who knows me—and not back home in Wind Valley, Wyoming. Although, I’ll be headed back tomorrow to prep for my first day as a working woman. It’s a long stretch to get an assistant to the marketing director position straight out of college, but I’ll be damned if I’m going to let all that hard work go to waste.

  I scan the inside of the bar, searching for the perfect fling material. I come up short of prospects, taking in the fact it’s only six in the evening and there aren’t very many people here. There’s a group of women in the corner near the bathroom hallway, wearing pastel pink, blue, and green dresses that just scream spring. Only two of the four pool tables lined against the back wall are being used, and there’s a couple sitting at one of the round tables in the middle of the open room. Not a lot of choices for me at the moment.

  “All I’m saying is that it’s a risky move,” Liam says. He’s the manager, working behind the bar tonight at The Silver Tap. It’s the sister bar to the one where I work in Wind Valley —now only weekends—The Black Alcove. That means free drinks for me. This is perfect, because as much as I am mentally shouting, “Yay, one-night stand,” I’m also mentally shouting, “Don’t do it. STD.” Vodka and the splash of cranberry in front of me is definitely going to make one of those thoughts disappear. I mean, it’s not like I’m going to go find the grimiest guy in the bar. I have standards, even if I say shit, fuck, and speak my mind way more than a person should. I don’t really have a filter, but that has nothing to do with how I pick my men.

  “I want to get laid, Liam. Since you and I have no attraction whatsoever, a stranger is going to have to do,” I tell him. But I also prefer it this way. I want sex, not a relationship. Easy as that.

  Liam squeezes his eyes closed and turns away from me. Probably thinking of how he attempted a night of lust but I just couldn’t do it. Yeah, he’s just under six feet, all muscle, and dark hair, dark eyes, but I don’t know … maybe it’s because I was friends with him first. That and my refusal to commit to a man—even when we go months without keeping in touch—could cost us our friendship. Anyway, every now and then, by the way he brushes an arm against me or voices his concerns about me always being alone or how I should see someone about my hesitation to jump into an actual relationship, I still think he has a thing for me. A small thing—I hope.

  He releases a long sigh as he busies himself making drinks from the tickets he just tore off the printer. “At least pick the guy here, all right? Then I can see his face and maybe card him for his drink to memorize his address or something before you leave with a complete stranger who could murder you in the back of his car.”

  “First of all, I still have those handcuffs you gave me at Christmas.” I pause, letting him laugh it off. It was a gag Christmas gift. Well, so he thinks. I really do plan to use them one day. “And second of all, you’re being dramatic. That’s not going to happen.”

  “You don’t know that.” He isn’t laughing anymore.

  “Considering I am planning on using the bathroom here or my room at your place, since that is where I’m staying, I do know.”

  “The bathroom, Beth, really?” he asks.

  “At least you’ll know where I am.” I grin at him. I’m trying to help the guy release some of his discomfort with my evening plans. His lack of a smile says I’m not doing a good job.

  A customer walks up a few stools down and Liam excuses himself to take care of the bald-headed man.

  My phone lights up, as if my mother knows I have a free moment and was going to use it for something illicit. I let it ring.

  It’s not that I don’t want to talk to her, but also that I don’t. If she wants to talk about something other than my dad, sure, I’d love to chat. But ever since my dad started dating someone new, she’s been extra needy. Not to mention her drinking has increased. Right now, I want to tell her to suck it the fuck up. You’ve been divorced for ten years. He’s allowed to date again and so are you. But of course, I’d never say any of that. My parents are the perfect example of why commitment is bullshit.

  “So, tell me again how this new job works. They don’t just hire you?” Liam asks once his customer has left.

  “Yes, I’ll going into the office every day and earn a paycheck, but I’m on a ninety-day trial. So yeah, if I don’t earn the position, they let me go.”

  I really hope they don’t.

  “Do a lot of places do that?” he asks.

  “I think it’s more popular with bigger companies.”

  “What are you going to do if you don’t make it?” he asks.

  I sit up with my arms crossed in front of me. “What do you mean if, Liam? They’ll keep me.”


  “But what if they don’t?” he prompts.

  “I need a new subject,” I blurt out. “You’re depressing me with your lack of excitement and clear confidence in me.” Instead of the small sips I’ve been taking I start to gulp down the remainder of my drink. It would be fantastic if this liquor would work faster.

  “Hey, I’m thrilled you got this marketing job. I know you’ve been working hard for it and I’m sure you’ll keep it, but sex with a guy you don’t know seems like a pretty manly way of celebrating.”

  “Whoa, sexist. What are you trying to say?” I unintentionally slam my glass against the counter.

  He releases another sigh as the entrance door opens, streaming in the last little bit of daylight over his face as the sun is beginning to go down.

  “Nothing. I take that back. It’s just an odd way to handle victory is all,” he says.

  Victory.

  I let the word settle in as a group of rowdy men step inside the bar. They’re all donning suits and ties. But they look young. Possibly somewhere around my own age of twenty-five. Thirty, max. One man stands out in the crowd, not only because he’s the only one to wander to the music box, but because he is the only one who has well-groomed scruff that covers his face. It’s shaved so perfectly that his jawline is more pronounced than normal. I’ve never been a fan of facial hair, but tonight, I think I could be.

  He taps away at the screen, searching for what I hope is a song I’ll enjoy. After all, he did just cut off the playlist I lined up on the damn thing. Took me over an hour, too.

  Bands. Every bar should stick to live bands.

  He shifts from his right foot to his left, sliding every finger but his thumb into his right pocket. His left thumb of his other hand rests against his lips as he pauses. I like those lips. They aren’t too plump and they aren’t so thin that I’ll feel like I’m kissing his chin more so than his mouth. They look like nice kissing lips. His tongue glides over them, leaving a glistening coat. Yes, those are positively kissable lips. I’m still staring when he turns. He must have sensed he was being watched because a pair of bold, golden brown eyes settle right on me. He smiles and then winks. I twist back around to face Liam.

  “Looks like you found your guy,” he says, full on rolling his eyes at me like a girl.

  “No, I’ll keep looking,” I say.

  “Why? He is clearly into you?”

  “Yeah, he also caught me looking at him, which means he thinks I’m into him, which also makes him think I’ll be easy.”

  “But you’re specifically searching for a man to have sex with. What am I missing here?” Liam asks.

  “Yeah, well I still want the guy to work for it. I mean this”—I point to my face and my body—“is not just something you get. You have to earn it.” I’m not conceited, but I know every woman, beautiful or flawed, deserves to be wooed properly. No matter the circumstance. And tonight, even though I’m not going to focus on any part of my life but sex, I still want to feel wanted by whoever I choose. The trick now is finding the right guy and turning tonight into one of the best nights of my life.

  Maverick

  “You slept with our client’s wife.”

  My father, who doubles as my boss, paces behind his desk. He’s not asking a question. He already knows the answer. It’s more like he’s waiting for me to confirm the accusation. Which I will, because it’s true. I just hate that I’ve disappointed him. Again. It’s like senior year when I told him I wanted to follow in his footsteps in the family marketing business instead of taking the college football scholarship in Tennessee. Most fathers would have been thrilled. Not mine.

  He had to have known I would make that choice. He interned me with the company every summer since eighth grade, and some nights after school, we’d sit and spitball ideas back and forth for hours. I never did it as an excuse to spend time with him after mom died in my junior year of high school; I did it because he loved it, and because he loved it, so did I. So now I’m here, eight years later, working with him and struggling to accept that what I did shouts how much I haven’t grown up.

  “I didn’t know she was his wife. Most wives attend the meetings instead of waiting in reception,” I say.

  His stride stops and he turns to face me, leaning forward, palms flat against his desk. “You cost the company a seven-figure deal, Maverick.”

  He had to remind me. I’ve beaten myself up more than anyone over this since six days ago when this same mentioned woman came into our office, bringing her husband to meet me so he’d know she wasn’t lying. I’d say they had some problems going on at home and I was her ticket out. But no matter their issues, I’m the one who made the mistake.

  “Had I known who she was, it wouldn’t have happened.” I lean back in my seat, cross one ankle over the opposite knee, and loosen the collar of my shirt. “You know I would never intentionally cost us a contract.”

  Closing a seven-figure deal will always get my blood pumping. No matter how many times I’ve watched the owner of a company sign his name after I’ve pitched him the most brilliant marketing proposal he’ll ever hear, it never gets old. I’m not a cocky jackass like most people think; I’m just good at my job. Extremely good. Others—coworkers, friends, people I meet in passing—choose to call me a jerk rather than admit they wish they could do their job the way I do. I have a 95 percent success rate. Who doesn’t want to say that about themselves?

  Most people think I’m in this position because my own father is the president of this company, Mitchell Marketing. The degrees hanging on the wall behind my desk in my office say otherwise.

  “No, no I don’t know that. Not with these juvenile actions,” he says.

  His hard stare matches my own.

  “Dad, I’ve closed more contracts than almost everyone here combined. Not including you, of course.”

  Great, now I’m mixing a little bit of whining with bragging. This is not my style.

  “Sealing the deal doesn’t mean anything if you don’t have respect for our company. Your uncle and I didn’t create this business for our kids to come in here and tarnish the hardworking and loyal reputation we’ve built.”

  “That’s all Austin’s doing,” I say. My cousin is a spoiled idiot who blows through my uncle’s money doing everything he can to avoid growing up.

  “After this stunt, I’m not so sure he’s alone.”

  “Dad—”

  “Maverick, I’ve always known you love marketing. I knew you’d be great at making the pitch to our clients and that you’d be the best man to replace me as president when I retire, which is why I hired you as soon as you had your degree. But now, I’m not so sure I made the right choice.”

  “Whoa, Dad, I messed up. I know I did, but you don’t need to fire me.” I sit up, resting my arms on my thighs. “I’ll find a way to make back the number we lost. You can trust me.”

  A sly smile crosses my father’s lips, the same one he used to display after my games in high school when he’d hear people talking about what a great arm I had. He’s always loved knowing something other people didn’t.

  “I know I can, and that is exactly why first thing Monday morning, you will start new hire recruitment for the assistant to marketing director position in Wind Valley under your uncle’s guidance.”

  I sleep with a client’s wife and instead of punishing me, he sends me to Wyoming to choose who the next person we hire is?

  “Uncle Bart wants me there?” I ask. I haven’t seen the man since my graduation. Talked to him on the phone and emailed him through the company for business, yes, but on a personal level, no. And not once in any of our work conversations did he show any type of acceptance of me. Mostly because I was able to skip the recruitment phase myself. I got lucky. Although, I have no doubt I would have come out as the best recruit for whatever job they were hiring for at the time.

  “Of course he does. In fact, he was the one who mentioned the idea to me,” Dad answers.

  “Wow, I don’t know what
to say. I’m honored you have that much faith in me. I won’t let you down. I’ll pick the best candidate.” I stand, straighten my tie, and turn for the door.

  “Maverick.”

  “Yeah?” I twist back around.

  “You’re not going to be selecting a recruit.”

  “I’m not?”

  “No, you are one of the recruits.”

  I blank on any response.

  “Prove to me and this company in the next ninety days that you want to be here and I’ll bring you back to Colorado. You can resume your current position as VP project director, and we can discuss the idea of my retirement in the next couple of years. If you don’t succeed in earning your place back, then you no longer have a job here.”

  “I made one mistake; it’s not going to happen again,” I repeat myself.

  “Then you should have no problem proving that to everyone else in the company who will one day, hopefully, look up to you as an employer.” He nods, once, his clear tell sign that this discussion is over. I return his nod and again head for the door.

  “One last thing,” his voice stops me. “You’ve got to start placing the needs of the company before your own in certain areas. Your love life and career need to be fully separate. Mixing the two is the perfect recipe for disaster.”

  “Yes, sir,” I say with no hesitation and finally leave his office.

  Don’t worry, Dad. If mixing sex and business together is going to set me back every time, I can guarantee it will not happen again.

  * * *

  I follow a group of men inside the bar. The men, like me, are all sporting suits. I’ve heard that downtown Rockland includes more office buildings in a five-block radius than most other cities in the northeastern part of the state. The Silver Tap, the bar I’m walking into right now, is conveniently in the middle of those five blocks. Whoever opened this business right here knew the opportunities a placement like this would provide them. The average working human enjoys a drink after work. This location is a brilliant move if you ask me, considering I fall into average right now.