The Hookup Plan

by Farrah Rochon

Genres: African American Romance; Romantic Comedy

Synopsis

Strong female friendships and a snappy enemies-to-lovers theme take center stage in this highly anticipated romantic comedy from the USA Today bestselling author of The Dating Playbook.

Successful pediatric surgeon London Kelley just needs to find some balance and de-stress. According to her friends Samiah and Taylor, what London really needs is a casual hookup. A night of fun with no strings. But no one—least of all London—expected it to go down at her high school reunion with Drew Sullivan, millionaire, owner of delicious abs, and oh yes, her archnemesis.

Now London is certain the road to hell is paved with good sex. Because she’s found out the real reason Drew’s back in Austin: to decide whether her beloved hospital remains open. Worse, Drew is doing everything he can to show her that he’s a decent guy who actually cares. But London’s not falling for it. Because while sleeping with the enemy is one thing, falling for him is definitely not part of the plan.

Publisher: Grand Central Publishing

Print pages: 368

Sample

1

London Kelley struggled to pinpoint the source of the persistent throb assaulting the base of her skull. It could’ve been the strobe lights bouncing off the Moroccan-themed decorations strewn about the ballroom where her fifteen-year high school reunion was being held. Or maybe it was the clamor of three hundred voices shouting over the blaring music.

The volume lowered a smidge before the DJ called out his next challenge to the crowd.

“All right, Class of 2007, let’s see if you remember this one.”

London took another sip of her rum and Coke. She’d started her own private drinking game, tossing back a hit whenever the DJ reminded them how long it had been since they’d graduated from high school.

It was also possible the alcohol was to blame for her headache.

The chatter subsided for a moment before erupting into hoots and hollers as the intro to Flo Rida’s “Low” began to play.

It would appear the class of 2007 did indeed remember this one.

Although it looked to London as if some of her classmates had forgotten they were wearing cocktail dresses instead of Apple Bottom jeans. The amount of underwear being flashed as they all got low, low, low, low rivaled the Victoria’s Secret fashion show.

As she glanced around the ballroom, her eyes landed on the current bane of her existence: that ridiculous chocolate fountain.

“Not again,” London growled.

She took a hasty sip from her glass before setting it on a passing waiter’s tray, then hurried toward the dessert table. Instead of a flowing curtain of silky milk chocolate, uneven clumps dripped from the three tiers, plopping into the pool at the fountain’s base. She was so over this thing.

She searched for the banquet manager, but the short blonde was nowhere to be seen.

Recalling what had been done the last time it jammed—not even twenty minutes ago—London reached underneath the table skirt and unplugged the fountain. She used a skewered pineapple spear to swirl the chocolate, breaking up the blobs that had collected in the bowl until all was smooth.

“Oh no, did it stop working again?” called a voice from several feet away. It was Yvette, the banquet manager.

“It did, but I took care of it,” London said as she grabbed the plug and reinserted it.

“Wait! Not yet!” Yvette screeched a second too late.

The machine let out a loud whirr as bands of chocolate whipped from it, slashing across the table and landing on everything within a three-foot radius. Including London.

“Shit!” she hissed.

The banquet manager rushed to her side. “You have to turn it back to level one before starting it up again,” she said, quickly shutting down the fountain. “Or else you get…well…this.” She gestured to the mess before them.

“That’s good to know for the next time it jams,” London said. Hopefully the crowd’s roar from the DJ’s newest song drowned out her sarcasm. It wasn’t Yvette’s fault that she’d taken it upon herself to fix this stupid fountain.

London held her arms out, assessing the damage. She’d dodged the brunt of the fountain’s assault, incurring only a few streaks across her forearms and the front of her jumpsuit. She looked like those fancy strawberries with chocolate drizzled across them.

Several people dancing near the dessert table gawked at her, but they were too busy getting hot in herre with Nelly to help a fellow classmate in distress.

“Let me ask the bartender for a towel,” Yvette offered.

“Don’t worry about it. I’ll go wash up in a minute. I just need to check the buffet line to make sure we’re not running out of anything.”

“I’ll take care of that,” Yvette said.

“I can—”

“It’s my job,” the banquet manager stated, a tinge of annoyance in her voice. “It’s why you’re paying me.”

“You’re right.” London held up both hands and took a step back. “Yes, of course. I just…just want everything to be the way I envisioned it.”

Because even though she barely had time to take a breath these days, she’d felt compelled as class president to take over planning this reunion. Which meant that everything had to be perfect.

She really needed to get a handle on her control issues. And the perfectionism. And sleep. Another hour or so every night would do her wonders.

Hell, if she was adding things to her need-to-do list, she’d just as well add sex. Lord knows she needed that.

“If we are running low on anything, please add it to my tab,” London said. “I’ll settle the bill with you later tonight.”

Yvette nodded and took off in the direction of the buffet table.

Just as London started for the restroom, she heard, “Well, if it isn’t my co-valedictorian.”

Her eyelids slid closed at the sound of that voice. It was deeper than it had been fifteen years ago, but unmistakable. And it still grated on her very last nerve.

“In over your head as usual, huh, London?” Drew Sullivan asked.

You’re a grown woman. Do not take the bait.

She turned and smiled.

“Well, if it isn’t the guy who maintained his 4.0 GPA by taking an extra PE class while I took advanced chemistry,” London replied. She’d aimed for cordiality but missed the mark by at least ten miles.

Drew stood a couple of feet away, his amused smile revealing straight white teeth that shone bright against his dark brown skin. Meticulously trimmed facial hair covered his strong jaw and framed his mouth. As far as mouths went, it was a nice one. A very nice one. Too bad it belonged to Drew freaking Sullivan.

“You know,” Drew continued, lifting several napkins from a stack at the end of the table, “if you wanted all the chocolate to yourself, you could have just had the DJ announce it. I doubt any of our classmates would mind.”

She accepted the napkins he offered and cleaned her arms with them. “Do you mean to tell me that in all these years you couldn’t find a sense of humor?”

“I’m still working on it,” Drew said, wiping the chocolate that streaked the tablecloth.

“You’re making a mess.” London moved his hand out of the way. But when she started scrubbing the tablecloth, she smeared it even more.

“Some things never change,” Drew said.

She looked up to find him smirking at her. “What are you talking about?”

He gestured at the table. “You thought you could do a better job than me.”

His smile widened and London had to fight the urge to fling chocolate at him.

She braced her hands on the table and leaned forward. “Make no mistake, I have always been a step ahead of you. But unlike fifteen years ago, I’m not going to waste my time trying to prove it.”

“Like you did in calculus? Oh, wait. We had the same grade in that class, didn’t we? Same with world history. Hmm…as a matter of fact, we both ended the year with straight As in all the classes that counted.”

“Still a cocky bastard,” she said.

“Only because I can back it up.” Drew leaned toward her. “Admit it, you loved going toe to toe with me back then.”

London narrowed her eyes. She wanted to laugh so damn bad, but she would rip her own lips off before she gave Drew the satisfaction. He’d had enough laughs at her expense fifteen years ago, during the many times he’d bested her over the course of their senior year.

Instead, she rounded the table, intending to go to the restroom to finish cleaning up, only to find herself clasped in a bear hug.

“London Kelley? Oh my God, how are you?”

Anika Harvey—now Anika Sanderson—smiled up at her, the top of her head barely reaching London’s chin.

“Anika. How…uh…how are you?” She disengaged from the woman’s hold, surveying her clothes to make sure she hadn’t smeared any of the chocolate on her. “How are Marcus and the kids?”

Anika had married Marcus Sanderson, the guy whose braces had cut London’s bottom lip during her very first kiss back in the ninth grade.

“Oh, everyone is just fine. Marcus is here somewhere.” Anika gestured at the dance floor, then she winked at London. “So, that Craig guy was something else, wasn’t he? Have you heard from him since the drama that went down at the sushi place?”

London tried not to roll her eyes at yet another person asking about Craig.

The only thing she had been known for back in high school was getting all As, being class president, and being the reluctant teacher’s pet. She would have killed someone—okay, maybe only maimed someone—for the attention she’d garnered tonight. And all because six months ago she’d been one of three women at the center of a video that had gone viral online after discovering they had all been duped by the same three-timing creep.

The most ironic part in all of this? She’d started dating said creep only in the hopes of having a date for this very reunion. The prospect of showing up to yet another function alone and fending off questions about why she wasn’t settled with a husband and kids had prompted her to accept a date from the first warm body with a pulse who’d swiped right.

Just then, the banquet manager reappeared with the promised washcloth.

“Thank you.” London accepted it and ran the damp towel along her forearms. She returned her attention to Anika. “Social media blew up that thing with Craig. It really wasn’t as serious as people made it out to be.”

She could tell by Anika’s frown that she was hoping for more inside dirt, but London was done providing fodder for the rumor mill. There had to be another classmate whose crappy love life had gone viral online.

“That’s too bad,” Anika said. “You and those other two girls should have pitched it as a reality TV show, like the Real Housewives.”

As if she had time to star in a TV show. She barely had time to watch TV.

She hunched her shoulders in a what are you gonna do gesture as Anika walked off. London glanced over to find Drew observing her with a curious expression.

“Do not even think about it,” she said. She didn’t know for sure that he was going to ask her about Craig, but whatever it was, she didn’t want to hear it. Especially from Drew.

He held his hands up. “I didn’t say anything.”

“But it’s on the tip of your tongue,” London accused.

That grin reappeared. “If it’s my tongue that interests you—”

“Shut up, Drew,” she said, cutting him off. “I knew it was smart to steer clear of you tonight.”

“So you have been avoiding me.”

“Damn right I have,” she said.

She had done her best to dodge him, but this was the Hilton, not Cowboys Stadium—or whatever they called that behemoth of a dome up there in Arlington now. There were only so many places in this ballroom for a girl to hide.

What was he even doing here? As far as London knew, Drew had left Austin soon after graduation and hadn’t looked back.

Not that she kept tabs on the bastard or anything. It was just that Drew Sullivan and his millions of dollars were all any of her classmates ever talked about.

“So, what are you doing here, Drew?” she decided to ask as she dabbed at the remaining chocolate on her red sequined jumpsuit with the towel. “Your name wasn’t on the list of attendees. I know because I triple-checked.”

“I paid at the door. I hadn’t planned on being in Austin for the reunion, but since I’m in town on business, I figured why not?”

“Business, huh? What do you do again? Accountant?”

“Hedge fund manager.”

She knew exactly what he did for a living. That smug arch of his brow told her that he knew that she knew. Whatever.

“Ah, that’s right. Drew Sullivan, the multimillionaire hedge fund manager.” She tipped her head to the side. “Didn’t you get caught up in some type of money-laundering scheme?”

“Nope.” He grinned. “I earned it all through hard work, the same way I did with my grades back in high school. You know, the grades that earned me co-valedictorian status?”

“Oh, there you are!” called a high-pitched voice.

London looked over her shoulder just as Tabitha Rawlings walked up to them. The former cheerleader was as perky as ever. She wore her hair in microbraids that reached her behind and still had those sculpted cheekbones that London had coveted when they were teenagers. Okay, so she still coveted those cheekbones.

Tabitha held out a glossy magazine to Drew. “I kept it in my car on the off chance you’d be here tonight,” she said. “Can you sign it for me?”

London let her nosiness get the better of her and peered over at the magazine.

“Have you seen the spread in Dwellings?” Tabitha asked, her perkiness dialed up several notches. “There’s a four-page feature on Drew’s amazing apartment in New York. He can see Central Park from his bathroom!”

“Quite the selling point. Is that how the real estate broker reeled you in?” London asked.

Drew flashed her another of those grins that were much too devastating for her peace of mind as he scribbled his name across Tabitha’s magazine.

“The magazine calls it the quintessential bachelor pad. Although, I must say that I’m surprised you’re still a bachelor, Drew,” Tabitha said, heavy on the eye smolder.

It took every modicum of restraint London had not to gag.

“Here you go,” Drew said, handing the magazine to Tabitha.

Once their classmate had gone off with her prized possession, he turned his attention back to London. Hooking a thumb in Tabitha’s direction, he said, “If you want a copy of the magazine, I can get you one. It really is a nice spread.”

“Maybe once the weather gets a little colder. I can use it as kindling in my fireplace.”

He slapped his hand to his chest. “Still slinging those daggers, huh?”

“When you’re good at something…” She shrugged. “And as much as I would love to stand here shooting the shit with you all night—not—I need to make sure that no one is taking more than one favor. By the way, I only ordered enough for those who preregistered for the reunion, so you can’t have one.”

“But those blue-and-orange mugs match my kitchen so well,” he said.

London rolled her eyes. “Once a smart-ass, always a smart-ass.”

“Takes one to know one.”

She started to leave, but Drew stopped her.

“The favors are fine,” he said. “Take a minute to breathe. You can’t be everywhere at once.”

“What makes you think—”

He cut her off. “It’s been fifteen years, but I know you, London Kelley. You probably haven’t stopped moving all night. Just chill for a minute. Tell me how things have been going for you.”

“Why do you even want to know?”

“Because this is a class reunion and you’re a former classmate. That’s what people do at these things, right?”

Sure, that’s why he wanted to catch up. London was tempted to play along just to see how long it took him to throw his outrageous success in her face. She could totally see him pretending to answer a text just so he could inadvertently click onto his banking app and “mistakenly” show her his bank balance.

Instead, it was her phone that buzzed with a text. London slipped it from her pocket and swiped her thumb across the screen. Her eyes grew wide as she read the text from her coworker, Dr. Aleshia Williams.

Oh. My. God.

“Don’t go keeping all the good news to yourself,” Drew said.

London jerked her phone away, even though there was no way he could see the screen from where he stood. “How did you know it was good news?”

“Because you just told me.” His arrogant smile was both irritating and kind of cute.

Ugh. She always hated the fact that she found Drew attractive. She’d tried to convince herself that he looked good only if she was tired and squinted her eyes a little, but facts were facts. This bastard was gorgeous.

“And also because your eyes lit up as you read the text,” Drew continued. “What has you grinning? I’m not used to seeing a smile on your face.”

“You haven’t seen me in fifteen years. You’re not used to seeing my face. Period.”

He lifted his brow in a look that said he was becoming bored with this conversation. “Are you going to share your news, or what?”

“Fine. Nosy ass,” London muttered. She shot a quick reply to her colleague, then slipped her phone back into her pocket. “You know that I’m a pediatric surgeon, right?”

“You don’t have to rub it in,” he said.

“I wasn’t rubbing anything in, you delicate little snowflake. Besides, you never wanted to go into medicine.”

“You’re right. Blood.” He grimaced and gave an exaggerated shiver.

“Anyway,” London continued, trying her hardest not to laugh. “For months, the administration at my hospital has been hinting at going the privatization route, but one of my colleagues just texted me a bit of inside scoop that makes me think that they’ve decided against the sale. She said the board is calling a meeting on Monday and they’re going to make an announcement.”

He paused for a moment before asking, “Why are you against the hospital being sold? I know several firms that broker those types of deals. It’s not always a bad thing.”

“Spoken like someone strictly interested in the money end of such deals,” London said. “I’m concerned about the medicine. I’m in the final year of a five-year residency at this hospital, and I think I know better than you what’s best for it. And it is definitely not a sale to the highest bidder.”

“A person can be concerned about the medicine and the money,” Drew said.

“And, as usual, we disagree. Good to know some things never change.” London slipped a glass of sparkling wine from a passing waiter’s tray. “But, you know what? I’m so happy right now that I don’t even mind trading barbs with you.”

“How about dancing with me?” he asked.

London drew up short. Narrowing her eyes at him, she asked, “What’s really going on here?”

“What? Everyone else is dancing.”

“Yeah, but I don’t trust you,” she said. “Never have.”

“I’m just trying to get my hardworking classmate to have a little fun at the reunion she worked so hard to plan,” he said. “Is there something wrong with that?”

London picked up a strawberry from the fruit platter.

“I’ll pass on the dance,” she told him. “But, to my surprise, it actually wasn’t all that bad to see you again, Drew. Let’s do this again in another fifteen years.”

She slipped the strawberry in her mouth and left him standing at the dessert table.

2

Drew stood next to a horseshoe-shaped archway, like those he’d seen on his recent trip to Marrakesh. He shifted his attention between his phone, the projector screen that featured a slideshow of snapshots from high school, and a group of his former basketball teammates he now regretted approaching.

As he listened to them, Drew was reminded why he rarely kept in touch with anyone from this crew. Most of them hadn’t matured past their high school days. Still cracking the same lame jokes and jockeying for position as the big man on campus.

He remained quiet. His success spoke for itself; he didn’t have anything to prove to these guys. Then again, he had never been one to seek validation from anyone other than his mother or uncle. And London Kelley.

Drew looked to where he’d last seen her, fussing with the four-foot-tall Moroccan-inspired lantern being used as one of the photo props. She was easy to spot. Unlike some women who resented the fact that they were tall, London had always embraced her height. Those sexy-as-hell heels she wore made her even more imposing.

She was stunning.

Her once gangly frame had filled out in all the best ways. She was now svelte and graceful, with the barest suggestion of curves underneath the flowing fabric of that fire-red jumpsuit that only London could pull off. Even though it was now streaked with chocolate.

His lips tipped up in a grin as he thought back to their conversation a little while ago. Drew could have spent the rest of the evening going back and forth with her, but after discovering her opposition to the changes happening at Travis County Hospital, he decided it would be best if he kept his distance. For a moment, he’d contemplated telling her that the board meeting she’d gotten the scoop on was to announce an audit of the hospital pending its potential acquisition. An audit performed by Trident Health Management Systems. His company.

But then he’d thought better of it. Why spoil their night with talk about work? She would find out soon enough.

A heated debate about this year’s NBA playoffs broke out among the basketball crew, signaling Drew’s cue to leave. He returned to the dessert table. Not because he was overly fond of cream puffs, but because it provided the best vantage point to view the entire ballroom.

He sought London out again, his heart rate accelerating as he spotted her heading straight toward him.

“Back so soon?” Drew asked casually as she approached.

“What can I say, I just couldn’t stay away from you,” she deadpanned. She snagged a melon ball from the fruit display. “I meant to ask earlier. Who does the apartment in that magazine belong to?”

“What do you mean? It’s my apartment.”

“Well, who decorated your apartment for that spread? I don’t believe for a second that you live in a place with only white furniture. No one lives that way.”

Whip smart, as always.

“It was a company that does staging for estate sales and stuff like that,” Drew admitted. “I checked into a hotel for three nights while they got the apartment ready and took those photos. But Tabitha is right, I can see Central Park from my bathroom.”

She snorted. “Life of the rich and famous.”

“Between the two of us, I think you’re the one with more fame,” he said.

She glanced over, serving him serious side-eye. “You’re going to bring up that stupid video with Craig, aren’t you?”

“I’m pretty proud of myself for holding out this long before asking you about it,” he said. “That video was everywhere. And, for the record, you were way out of that guy’s league. He was lucky you gave him the time of day.”

Her eyes teemed with suspicion even as they sparkled with mirth.

“That was very sweet of you,” she said. “It makes me uneasy.”

“That’s not fair,” Drew said. “You’ve been trying to make me out to be the bad guy since high school. I haven’t given you a single reason not to trust me.”

“I guess you’re right,” she said, her expression still wary. “You’re definitely no Craig Johnson.” She blew out a sigh. “I don’t even know why I’m telling you this, but…”

“But what?” Drew urged when she didn’t go further.

“I only went out with Craig so that I wouldn’t have to come to this reunion stag. Oh, the irony.” She laughed. “Just look at me. I still ended up here by myself, only now I’ve brought even more attention to the fact that I don’t have a date.”

Drew shrugged. “Who cares that you’re here alone. I don’t have a date either.”

“Yeah, but that’s to be expected.” She winced. “That was mean even for me, wasn’t it?”

“Extremely mean.”

“Sorry.” She hunched her shoulders, an irresistible smile playing at the corners of her lips. “Old habits die hard. And needling you has always been a favorite pastime.”

He huffed out a laugh. “I knew you got a special thrill out of making my life hell back in high school, but—”

“Excuse me?” She cut him off. “I made your life hell? Are you serious?”

“You were horrible to me!”

“I don’t know what kind of revisionist history is going on inside that head of yours, but don’t expect me to just forget the shit you pulled in high school, Drew Sullivan. You did everything within your power to show me up whenever you could.”

“Because you thought you were better than everyone else.”

“Not better, just smarter.”

Drew did his best to hold back his grin. That sass got him every damn time.

“I hate to be the one to remind you, but on paper, we’re equals. No one cares that you took advanced physics while I took PE.”

“It was advanced chemistry.”

He didn’t bother to hide his smile this time. “What if I officially renounced my co-valedictorian status? I’ll do it right here, right now. Would that make you happy?”

“Nope.” She picked up another melon ball and popped it in her mouth. “I’d rather go on blaming you for ruining my senior year for the rest of eternity. It’s more fun.”

“I did not ruin your senior year. If we’re being honest here, it’s the opposite. You never gave me the credit I deserve.”

“Credit for what?”

“For pushing you to work harder,” he said. “You were so far ahead of everybody else in our class that you probably would have started slacking by the time senior year rolled around. Who knows if you would have even gotten into medical school if I hadn’t been there to provide you competition? Face it, Dr. Kelley, if it wasn’t for me, you may not be a doctor at all.”

She threw her head back and released a full-throated laugh. She probably hadn’t intended for it to be sexy, but damn if it wasn’t.

“You are so full of shit, Drew. Then again, that doesn’t surprise me. You’ve always been full of shit.” She pointed at him. “But you are right. You did push me to work harder. Getting the better of you in every single class was my sole mission in life fifteen years ago.”

“Told you,” Drew said. “You owe me.”

She picked up a toothpick, stabbed a cube of marbled cheese from the fruit display, and held it up to him. “Here’s some cheese to go with all that whine. Don’t say I never gave you anything.”

Now it was his turn to laugh.

Drew had decided to attend tonight’s reunion only because it was being held in the same hotel where he was staying these first few nights in Austin. If the executive apartment he’d rented had been move-in ready, he doubted he would be in this ballroom right now.

If he’d known he would spend half the night going back and forth with London, he would have sent in his registration for the reunion when he’d first received—and promptly deleted—the email. Even after fifteen years, it was more than obvious that she had no idea that he’d crushed on her from the minute he arrived at Barbara Jordan High halfway through their junior year.

How could she know? She’d been too busy scheming his demise for swooping in and encroaching on her territory as smartest person in the class.

“So, tell me, London, what’s been going on with you these days?” Drew asked. “Outside of working at the hospital.”

He knew all about her job. Before his mom passed away last year, she would occasionally text him about that smart, pretty girl with the nice teeth he went to high school with, and how she was now a doctor who was sometimes interviewed on the local news.

“That’s pretty much all there is to me,” London said. “My job doesn’t leave much time for anything else.”

“You mean besides planning class reunions and going viral online?”

“Yeah, besides those things,” she said. “Oh, and I crochet now. It’s a new thing I’m trying. You know, broadening my horizons and all that good stuff.”

“Crochet, huh? Do you play bridge and take in stray cats too?”

“Hey, fiber art is the new hip thing, Drew Sullivan.”

“I would believe that if you’d used any word other than hip.”

“Shut up.” She laughed.

“Why do you have to make goading you so much fun?”

“Because—”

A high-pitched squeal came from the area of the DJ’s table. Tabitha Rawlings had taken control of the microphone.

“Okay, fellow Trojans, it’s time for the class roll call!” Tabitha said.

“What the hell?” London’s brow dipped in disapproval. “There isn’t supposed to be any class roll call. The reunion committee never discussed this.”

“Maybe they discussed it when you weren’t there?”

She gave him the death glare.

Drew held up his hands. “Or, maybe not.”

Tabitha started with the Class Clown, Reginald Brown, who also won Best Personality, Most School Spirit, and Best Dressed. She went through the list, calling out several more “Most Likely To” categories, and then moved on to couples.

“Is she just pulling these out of her ass?” London asked. “They didn’t even take votes.”

“Yes, they did,” Drew said. “I was given a form to fill out when I arrived.”

“You were?” She jerked her head around. “No one told me about any form.”

“It sounds as if the rest of the committee kept it from you. They probably knew you’d be pissed.” He leaned toward her and, in a stage whisper, said, “I voted for you as Most Likely to Succeed, by the way.”

Tabitha called out Most Popular Girl and Guy, then corrected hersel. . .