Reading the Paranormal: Look Smart by Aly Stiles [Review]

Look Smart (Work For It #6) by Aly Stiles
Format: ebook
Source: provided for review
Disclaimer: As an Amazon Associate, I earn from qualifying purchases.
Date read: April 28, 2023

Work For It
1. Street Smart
2. Heart Smart
3. Book Smart
4. Smart Mouth
5. Play Smart
6. Look Smart - Paperback | Kindle
7. Smart Move
8. Stage Smart

Aly Stiles
| Website | Amazon |

Synopsis (Goodreads):

Nate Hanover’s future was set. The perfect girlfriend, the perfect career… He’s the perfect man with the perfect life—until he lost it all this summer. Now he’s not sure about anything, except that no one can know the truth lurking behind his “perfect” facade. Especially not at this week’s high-stakes corporate circus known as Tele-Con.

Natalie McAllister has no time for games. After working nonstop since… ever, she’s one win away from the dream promotion she’s been chasing for years. All she has to do is land the Sandeke Telecom account at this week’s telecom conference and life will be perfect.

But when a chance encounter leads these strangers to an incredible night of intimate soul-searching, “perfect” might look different than they thought. With so much on the line, it’s a good thing they’ll never see each other again. Well, not until the following morning when they learn they’re competing for the same account, their firms despise each other, and a nut-obsessed enigma named Chad Smith is the key to their success. Oh, plus their forbidden connection is still fully charged and more off-limits than ever.

What could go wrong when the perfect night explodes into the perfect storm?

Thoughts on Look Smart: Oh.my.goodness. Nate and Nat were GREAT together. From trying to parse Chad and Reed Reedweather's cryptic conversations to trying to figure out Chad in general (MER-NUT!) to dealing with falling fast and hard for one another after a night of secret truths and trust, but not wanting to admit that maybe they'd both contracted a terminal case of the feels in such a short time. *heart eyes*

But let's back up a little. Nate is in a super not great place at the beginning of the conference. He's putting on a put-together façade, but he's falling apart on the inside. Nat sees the exhaustion he's hiding from everyone else and the two somehow end up spending a night holed up sharing secrets. Which seems optimal since they don't expect to ever see one another again and those secrets will be safe because of the relative anonymity.

Except WHOOPS, that's not quite what happens. Because these two are vying for the same account and they're basically enemies on the corporate front.

Not that either of them let that stop them from continuing to spend (secret) time together and attempting to work through their personal issues. They're also expected to flirt/seduce one another (by their bosses who don't know about their secret almost-romance and honestly the whole idea is pretty gross when coming from their bosses and framing it as what's expected as part of their jobs) in an attempt to ferret out secrets AND somehow navigate the increasingly confusing interactions with Chad Smith. (If someone could bottle Chad and Reed's conversations and distill it into a fragrance it would probably be called Collective Enigmatic Synergy.)

So. Nate's in a bad place, Nat sees right through him (in a good way), there's talk of an undercover potato, and somehow Nate and Nat keep ending up sharing space and secrets. That last part? DEFNITELY in a good way. We also get to spend time with a few familiar faces and watch Nate attempt to build a business plan for a retinue of strippers. GOOD TIMES!

Excerpt

He grins, and I push the button for the eighth floor.

“What floor?” I ask him.

“Eight,” he says, his eyes flashing with humor.

Oh.

Damn.

“We’re not in the same room, are we? Because that would be awkward,” I say.

“I’m thinking we’d probably know that by now.”

“True. You look like a guy who uses a lot of closet space.”

He raises his brows, and I shrug.

“Do I? What do those guys look like?”

“I don’t know… Put together?”

I thought that answer would be safe, but maybe not when he frowns. With another tight smile, he faces the door. Guess we’re back to watching numbers do literally the only thing numbers can do.

Three.

Four.

Five.

Say something, Nat. You’re about to part ways forever.

“You could come check out my closet if you want.”

Not that!!

He fires what I count as his fifth confused look of the encounter, and I offer a conciliatory cringe.

“Sorry. That was not what it sounded like.”

“What did it sound like?”

The elevator dings, and the door opens. Floor eight. Thank the heavens.

I step out with relief, then remember it’s time for him to step out too.

Should have followed the wheat crystal debate up the stairs.

“Oh, uh. Well, I guess it sounded like I was inviting you back for sex.”

What?!

He just about chokes on air, and I OMG myself for that one.

“I wasn’t,” I rush out. “That’s my point. I was just… making conversation.”

He hesitates, and I squirm beneath his curious gaze. He doesn’t look upset, though. Or offended. Or even embarrassed. He looks… intrigued. By me? Most people aren’t a fan of my no-nonsense approach to, well, everything. And when I’m drinking? All filters are off.

“I see. So in this ‘making conversation scenario,’ how would a person respond to a question like that?” he asks.

“Like what?”

“Like an invitation for sex that isn’t.”

I bite back a smile and shrug.

“However that person would want to respond, I suppose.”

“Is it a nice closet?” he asks.

“Probably the same as yours.”

“A little presumptuous, no? What if I have a suite? My closet would be very different.”

“Okay, but now you’re being presumptuous. What if I also have a suite?”

“Do you?”

“No. Do you?”

“No.”

That breathtaking grin slips out, and suddenly I’m not sure I was just making conversation. My gaze drops to a dark button-down shirt stretched over a body that has seen plenty of action in a gym. His rolled-up sleeves reveal several tattoos that clash beautifully with the business-casual attire. Gosh, is there also a modeling convention going on at the resort? He could be the hot stock-photo dude in all those “Look how cool it is to work here!” photos on the Careers page of every company website.

My door looms ahead, which ushers in corresponding disappointment. Even worse, Cautious Brain is now berating me through the margarita mist.

You can’t take a stranger back to your hotel room! This is the opening scene of every true crime show ever. You want your polaroid thumbtacked to a wall with a red string wrapped around it?!

Wait. Who uses the red string again? Is that a serial killer thing or more of a spy-conspiracy-theory thing? Do they still use polaroids for crime-solving? That seems inefficient.

“This is me,” I lie, stopping at a random room.

Smart, Nat. Good work.

“Yeah?” he asks.

He leans against the wall on the other side of the door to face me. Brown eyes scan me with amusement and something else. Something that triggers all kinds of tiny bubbles in my stomach. Yep, I’m now a walking champagne flute. Fantastic. Why did he have to be smart and funny in addition to being achingly beautiful? Ugh. What an unfair combination in a stranger you can’t have.

Well, shouldn’t have. Because, I shouldn’t, right?

Right. Because what you do have is a big day tomorrow.

The biggest.

“So, um, have a great night,” I say.

He doesn’t budge, and I start to panic. What if he is a creepy stalker? Aren’t the worst ones charming and attractive? Or maybe he’s considerate on top of everything else and is waiting for me to get safely into my room before going to his?

Or…

I mean…

He’s not… actually interested in staying?

Not safe! Not safe!

Maybe, but I’m not getting a creepy vibe from him. I watched him with his friends all night and nothing about his demeanor screamed FUTURE THUMBTACKED POLAROID.

“Okay, well, I won’t keep you,” he says, straightening from the wall.

The disappointment is real when he pulls a keycard from his pocket, but it’s for the best. I’ve spent months preparing for this conference. It’s bad enough I had one too many drinks tonight. The last thing I need is an even bigger mistake.

No! It’s not! Come on. Break one simple rule. Just a small dose of “wild.” You don’t even risk the occasional rolling stop at a stop sign.

It’s true. Stop means stop. But fine.

“Wait. Would you maybe want to see my closet after all?” I blurt out. “Not for sex. Just to hang out. Maybe a drink or two?”

The corner of his perfect mouth tips up in a smirk. “You want to hang out in your closet?”

“Sure. It might be a tight fit, but if we move the luggage stand, we could make it work.”

His smile grows—and wow. Maybe I’m actually nailing this hookup thing.

“Sure. Why not?” he says. “It’s been a while since I’ve spent time in a closet. My room or yours?”

He studies the door beside us that is very much not my door.

“Yours,” I say.

He nods and slides his keycard into the slot.

Oh no.

“It’s so weird that they put us in the same room, isn’t it?” he says.