The Perfect Kiss Read online

  The Perfect Kiss

  by

  Susan Hatler

  The Perfect Kiss

  Copyright © 2015 by Susan Hatler

  All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of the copyright owner of this book. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

  License Notes

  This e-book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This e-book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the author’s work.

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  Cover Design by Elaina Lee, For The Muse Design

  www.forthemusedesign.com

  Titles by Susan Hatler

  Kissed by the Bay Series

  Every Little Kiss

  The Perfect Kiss

  Just One Kiss

  The Sweetest Kiss

  Better Date than Never Series

  Love at First Date

  Truth or Date

  My Last Blind Date

  Save the Date

  A Twist of Date

  License to Date

  Driven to Date

  Up to Date

  Déjà Date

  Date and Dash

  Treasured Dreams Series

  An Unexpected Date

  An Unexpected Kiss

  An Unexpected Love

  An Unexpected Proposal

  An Unexpected Wedding

  An Unexpected Joy

  An Unexpected Baby

  Young Adult Novels

  Shaken

  See Me

  Praise

  “It totally made me smile.”

  -Getting Your Read On Reviews on An Unexpected Date

  “An Unexpected Date is a wonderful and perfect release to a stressful or crazy day.”

  -Cafè of Dreams Book Reviews

  “Susan has a knack for light hearted dialogue and describing the zing in the connection between Holly and Dave….Be on the look out for this delightful morsel.”

  -Tifferz Book Reviewz on An Unexpected Date

  “Susan Hatler has a knack for writing books that draw me in from the very first page!”

  -Books Are Sanity!!! on Love at First Date

  “Ms. Hatler has a way of writing witty dialogue that makes you laugh-out-loud throughout her stories.”

  -Night Owl Reviews on Truth or Date

  Chapter One

  Two weeks from now I might be known as the premiere event planner for Blue Moon Bay’s rich and famous, but my current state of employment had me smelling like fish from head to toe. You’d think as the owner of Olivia’s Occasions I could make enough to live on in my small coastal town in California. Nope. I had to keep working part-time in the seafood section at The Market just to squeak by. Thus, my constant fish aroma.

  Soon my skin’s daily seafood stench would be a thing of the past. Well, I hoped.

  As I sat bar-side at Scotty’s Seafood Restaurant, waiting for my best friend Wendy to arrive, I sipped my martini. She’d just arrived home from a trip to Japan with her boyfriend, and I couldn’t wait to tell her about my impending non fish-related business opportunity.

  Greta von Strand, millionaire and bestselling author of Men: Who Needs Them?—not to mention my idol—had just hired me to plan the event of a lifetime: a two-week luxury getaway for women to focus on their independence from men by strengthening their bond with themselves and each other. We named this event The Date Escape. I had to make everything perfect for this client, or my dream career would be dead in the water.

  If I did manage to pull off this lavish ocean retreat, Greta planned to market The Date Escape big time. Her goal would be to hold the retreats twice per month and eventually take the events worldwide. Guess which event planner she would hire to keep these retreats running? That would be me. I finally had the potential to make my wildest dreams come true.

  My chest tightened. Er, as long as I didn’t blow my chance.

  “Olivia Lane!” Piper Lewis’s pixie face appeared in front of mine, as she blew out the sharp, crisp scent of a breath mint. “I haven’t seen you in forever. It’s been hard to keep in touch since I gave notice at The Market. Oh . . .” She sniffed, wrinkling her nose. “You still work there, huh? I know you love the seafood discount, but haven’t you been there since your teens?”

  “Yes, Piper.” I forced a smile, even though Piper always managed to make me feel about two inches tall. But it wasn’t her fault she was petite and perfect with an effortlessly silky blond mane, whereas I was tall and lanky, and had to force my frizzy red hair into submission with a flat-iron every morning. Nor should she be blamed for having graduated from U.C. Santa Barbara, my first choice school, whereas I’d dropped out of college because I couldn’t settle on a major. What if I made the wrong choice? Any kind of change scared me silly. I sighed, tilting my head. “How are you doing?”

  “Can’t complain.” She slid onto the barstool next to me, holding a nearly empty glass of white wine in her French-manicured hand. “Just got a promotion at the bank and am here celebrating with several of my co-workers. I heard you’re, uh, trying to start your own business?” She bit her fingernail, tightening her face in a way that made it look like she found the idea painful. “That kind of came out of the blue, didn’t it? You never mentioned anything to me.”

  “Olivia’s Occasions is already up and running, actually,” I straightened in my seat, and took a large sip of my martini. Just because my business was new didn’t mean the idea had come out of nowhere. I’d always loved organizing events, ever since my third grade birthday party. All of my invitations had been homemade, and I had an itinerary for each of my eight-year-old guests. I’d just never had the guts to pursue my passion as an adult. Well, not for an income anyway. “You’ll recall that I organize Blue Moon Bay’s Pumpkin Festival every year, which is very successful,” I reminded her.

  “But that’s for charity,” she said, poo pooing that credential off my résumé in her perky voice. “They’ll take any volunteer willing to donate their time. It’s not like a professional event.”

  I sighed, squeezing the stem of my martini glass. “Last summer, I planned the ten-year anniversary bash at The Market all by myself and they paid me for my time. Everyone raved about the party and how smoothly everything ran from advertisements to the actual event,” I said, knowing they could thank my triple-checking policy for that. “If it weren’t for me, the party place would’ve brought blue linens instead of red linens, even after I double-checked with their customer service the day before. Hello, people? The evening was called ‘For the Love of a Lobster’ and lobsters are not blue, not even close.” I chuckled, waiting for her to join in. She didn’t. I cleared my throat. “I saw you there that night with a date. What did you think of the event?” I asked, figuring she’d have no choice but to admit I’d rocked it.

  “Hmm.” She drained the last of her wine, then pressed her palms against the bar top while glancing around. “I think I need another pinot gris.”

  I stabbed one of the olives in my martini glass with a toothpick, thinking I might need another drink as well. Why couldn’t Piper admit I’d done a good job? She had the perfect life. Would
giving me a tiny bit of praise really be that hard? I bit into the olive, the tart flavor bursting in my mouth as I focused on the scenery outside the bay window. The deep blue water of the Pacific Ocean sparkled under the golden sunlight, and my tension started to dissipate.

  “Hey, you.” Piper’s perky voice rose several octaves as she spoke to someone behind the bar. “I’d adore another glass of your finest pinot gris. I just got promoted at work, so I’m celebrating. Yay! Well, I’m also reminiscing with my sweet friend here.” She wrapped an arm around me and pulled me against her, jerking my attention away from the ocean and giving me a mouthful of her blond mane. “We had the best time working together at The Market. Oh, I guess she actually still works there,” she said, giggling.

  “Hilarious,” I grumbled, untangling myself from her surprisingly strong grip. Then, I glanced over the bar to see who she’d been talking to. My pulse immediately quickened.

  Wow. Now he was gorgeous. Definitely not the bartender who had served me earlier.

  This man who’d stepped behind the bar moved purposefully, looking like a model from a surfing magazine with his sun-kissed skin, golden hair, and eyes the color of the bay. He wore a red short-sleeved Scotty’s t-shirt, which emphasized his impressive biceps and showed off his muscular chest, and I couldn’t help but imagine the washboard abs that were surely under there as well. Shiver.

  When had Scotty’s hired a new bartender? How in the world had I not noticed this handsome man earlier? And how much of our conversation had he overheard?

  Suddenly, his gaze latched onto mine. “Hey there.”

  My cheeks heated. “Hi.”

  He swooped a wet cloth over the wooden bar. “I’m Brody Mitchell.”

  “Olivia Lane.” The intensity of his gaze warmed my belly and I dropped my toothpick, hoping I didn’t have bits of olive stuck in my teeth.

  “Um, Brody?” Piper wiggled her fingers at him. “My pinot gris? Also, your phone number and the time you get off work.” She pushed a pen and a white paper napkin toward him, then licked her bottom lip. “I’m in a very celebratory mood tonight.”

  My eyes grew wide. Subtle. What man could resist that line from a beautiful woman?

  As if on cue, he set a glass of wine in front of her, leaned down, then the corner of his mouth hitched up in a very sexy way. “Sorry. I only have eyes for red-heads.”

  My tummy fluttered uncontrollably as I lifted my lashes to meet his gaze.

  He straightened, then winked at me. “Get you another drink, lovely lady?”

  “I’m fine right now,” I said, restraining myself from throwing my arms around this man. He’d just snubbed Piper Lewis for me. I wanted to kiss him.

  “Just let me know if you need anything at all.” He smiled, then walked away to serve an attractive couple who had sat down at the other end of the bar.

  “Well,” Piper said, as if that were a dirty word. She slipped her pen back in her purse, lifted her wine glass, and left the white napkin on the bar untouched. “I’d better get back to my co-workers. Good luck with your new business, Olivia. Hope it works out. Say hello to your mom and dad for me.”

  “Take care, Piper.” I speared the second olive in my glass with the end of the toothpick and sucked it into my mouth quickly, enjoying the sour hit. Then I checked my cell in case I’d missed a text from Wendy. Nothing. She wasn’t late, though. I’d just arrived early. My conversation with Piper had made me anxious, especially since she’d mentioned my parents.

  When I was young, everyone, including me, thought I had the perfect home life. My parents were supportive, adored my friends, and seemed devoted to each other. Then a few months ago my mom “reconnected” with her high school boyfriend online and left my dad, claiming she wanted to be in love again. Apparently “love” only existed with a guy named Junior, who talked incessantly about his high school glory days as the quarterback for the Blue Moon Bay Sharks.

  My poor dad had the rug pulled out from under him. I could so relate to his situation.

  Two months ago, I thought I’d met the man of my dreams. Well, I’d technically met Hunter Cartwright in elementary school before his family moved away, but back then he’d been a super shy kid who played with ants. Now, he’d turned into a major charmer, and a total hottie.

  Hunter had returned to Blue Moon Bay from a high-powered Wall Street job to start his own boat-building business. He spent a whirlwind month wooing me with sails in the bay, waxing on about our future together, and he eventually swept me off my feet.

  Next thing I knew, Hunter dumped me to get back together with his ex-girlfriend. Guess he got over her being a “selfish money-grubbing liar” (his words, not mine). I’d been left stunned, losing tears and sleep over him until I bought my copy of Men: Who Needs Them?

  After I finished that inspiring book, I emailed the author, Greta von Strand, thanking her for her wisdom and asking if she’d ever thought of holding a teaching retreat. I even not-so-subtly mentioned Blue Moon Bay would be the perfect locale for such a retreat and gave her a few ideas. She called me to brainstorm the ideas I had in mind. A week later, The Date Escape was born and I was hired as the event planner.

  My love life may have crashed and burned, but at least my career was on the rise. Woot!

  I drained the last of my glass, excited to catch up with Wendy and hear the details of her trip to Japan. I’d also ask if I could borrow her Mercedes for the next two weeks. Her wheels would give me the right image to impress Greta von Strand and that so would not happen if I showed up at the mansion in Chutney, my beloved faded blue sedan, who kept breaking down on me.

  When you have your mechanic on speed dial it’s probably time to buy a new car. But it felt too hard to part with her when we had so many good memories together. . . .

  I’d had Chutney for eleven years, since high school, which was back when my four best friends and I were still tight. After graduation, Wendy went away to college and didn’t return until recently. Charlie married her high school sweetheart, who became a rock star and then cheated on her according to the play-by-play of her divorce in the tabloids. I hadn’t seen or heard from her in nine years. Megan and I were the only two of our posse who had stayed close. I missed our group and felt fortunate to have reconnected with Wendy after all these years.

  But it was Charlie who had dubbed my car “Chutney” after my high school boyfriend and I’d had a little too much fun in my back seat and ended up knocking over our untouched Indian take-out dinner. Good times. But then we broke up and my poor car was stuck with a large chutney stain. Charlie thought this was hilarious. She’d made me laugh by teasing me over and over. My mind shot to Greta’s guest list for the women’s retreat, which included Charlie Rockwell, ex-wife to rock star Rex Rockwell. Funny how things had come full circle.

  Fiddling with my glass stem, I brushed one of the long strands of my red hair behind my shoulder, and stole a quick peek at Brody again. Too bad I’d chosen to stay away from men right now, per Greta’s book. Was Charlie’s goal to take a break from dating, too? Had she known I was hosting The Date Escape when she’d signed up? I had no idea what I’d say to Charlie when I saw her. What should one say to an old friend who got rich and famous, then divorced her rock star husband in an epic public scandal?

  That was a toughy.

  I couldn’t blow this retreat, though. I’d never put my heart into my work like this before. If Greta didn’t hire me to take on these retreats, that would prove Piper was right to doubt me—that I should forget my dreams and settle with a nine to five desk job that at least paid well.

  “Your friend left,” came a husky voice filled with humor.

  I glanced up at Brody, the blue-eyed bartender—aka: my hero—and smiled. “I haven’t seen you in here before. When did you start working at Scotty’s?”

  He stared at me a moment, then the corner of his mouth slowly curved upward as if he had a secret he wasn’t going to share. “Now that’s a long and complicated story.”


  I opened my mouth to ask him—no beg him—to give me the low down behind that mysterious grin, then I remembered Greta’s life-changing book, Men: Who Needs Them?, and the fact that I should be focusing on myself right now, not flirting. So, I pushed my glass forward. “I’d love another drink. What do you recommend for a woman who’s off the market?”

  His stance shifted a little. “Engaged, huh? Well—”

  “Not engaged.” I waved a hand, thankful I’d never gotten remotely close to engaged to Hunter, the weasel who preferred his lying ex to me. Without a man distracting me, I could now pour all my mental energy into building my business and become super successful. Well, according to Greta’s book anyway. “I’m just career-oriented at the moment.”

  Brody made a face as he leaned against the bar. “Bad break-up, huh?”

  My stomach clenched, but I forced a shrug. “It happens.”

  “That’s rough.” He paused as he studied me. Then he gave me a side-glance and reached behind the bar. “I have just the thing you need. Scotty’s Blue Moon Breeze.”

  I was about to ask him what came in that special but he’d already turned away to fix my drink, allowing me the added bonus of observing his tight backside as he bent to retrieve something from under the bar. I needed to stop checking him out, but I couldn’t tear my gaze away. For a moment, I contemplated what it might be like to date Brody Mitchell.

  Then my thoughts drifted to Hunter. When we’d bumped into each other at the fundraiser I’d put together through Olivia’s Occasions, he’d seemed like the perfect guy. Soon after we started dating, he talked about our future together and I’d believed him. When Chutney broke down, I picked up extra hours at The Market to cover car repairs. While my attention diverted toward my financial problems and work, Hunter slipped out of my spell and returned to his ex-girlfriend.

  I felt like a fool, thinking we had something special. And the pain of being dumped had stung. Not something I cared to repeat. I needed to become like Greta, who was strong, successful, and would never let a man hurt her.