The Escort Page 7

  “So what if it was?”

  He sighed. “He’s going to hurt you.”

  “Correct me if I’m wrong, but how many times did everyone in your circle say the same about Ella? Yet look at you now.”

  “Yeah, and do you remember what a nightmare our courtship was? The last thing I want is for you to get caught up in some seedy nightmare like that.”

  Now, I sighed. “First, Nathan doesn’t have any crazy exes roaming his Arkansas hometown. Second, maybe to find the kind of love you and Ella have, just like you, I’d be willing to overcome whatever obstacles it might take.” Even sharing my boyfriend with literally dozens of other women? Maybe a new one each night?

  My stomach churned at the thought, but as far as I knew, Nathan wasn’t walking the streets just yet. I had time to save him. All I needed to do was find him a position with Zoogle that proved there were far nobler ways to make a living.

  Eyebrows raised, Liam asked, “You already love him?”

  “That’s not what I said. God, you never listen.” I pushed my chair back and stood. “If you don’t need me, I’m heading home.”

  “To see him?”

  “Would it matter if I were?”

  “Yes.” Liam drummed his fingers on the table. “What if I launch a company-wide search to find you someone better?”

  “I’ve got an idea…” I put my index finger to my puckered lips. “What if you saved yourself the trouble by hiring Nathan?”

  “Now I get it. He put you up to this, didn’t he?”

  “Sometimes I really can’t stand you.”

  “Likewise, sis.” When he winked, I flipped him the bird.

  —

  Back at my desk, I noticed Nathan had left me a voicemail, but after my exchange with Liam, I didn’t want to listen until reaching the privacy of my car. When I did press play, I closed my eyes, relishing the sound of his voice.

  When it came to Nathan, I found myself in an unfamiliar, unexpected, unwanted free fall.

  What happened on the swing—it had been outrageous!

  And I’d loved every second.

  If that night was an indicator of how exhilarating a life without Liam could be—sign me up! With Nathan, I didn’t worry about being his flavor-of-the-week or latest charity case. He made me feel cherished. Desired. Two things I’d been without for a very long time.

  With Liam, I’d never quite known where I fit into his world.

  Nathan had been clear from the start—both in his attraction and the fact that he didn’t feel worthy of me. When was the last time a guy admitted he liked me enough to not feel worthy? Try never!

  Granted, Nathan had this whole male escort thing nagging me like a hangnail, but surely, even he could see his new career choice wasn’t a good idea. Even though we’d technically only had the one date at his apartment, I felt connected to the guy—as if we’d both weathered relationship storms and in discovering each other had finally found a safe place to take shelter.

  Absolutely, I could be walking into a disaster. Without a doubt, he could be just one more man who’d emotionally shred me.

  But what if he wasn’t?

  What if this time, even though he was a diamond-in-the-rough, I finally got it right?

  Not thinking, just doing, I texted Nathan to meet me at a mom-and-pop Chinese restaurant not far from my place, then plugged my phone into the car’s USB so I wouldn’t miss his return text.

  Traffic at five thirty was a bitch. A wreck on 101 just past the airport funneled traffic to a single lane, and construction slowed me on Essex. The whole way, I’d sung along to classic Sting, determined not to let minor inconveniences ruin my hopes for what would surely be an epic night.

  When, over an hour later, I pulled into my assigned parking space in the belly of my building and still hadn’t heard from Nathan, warning bells rang. Was I fooling myself in thinking he would be any different from every other guy I’d known? And I wasn’t just talking casual dates, but starting from the beginning. My dad hadn’t wanted me. Mr. Kushing hadn’t wanted me. Liam couldn’t wait to dump me, and now, here was Nathan, no doubt so busy screwing some other woman that he couldn’t even be bothered to return a simple text.

  In the solitude of my home, I tossed my purse and briefcase on the sofa, kicked off my heels, grabbed Ben & Jerry for a threesome, then settled under my downy covers before flipping through TV channels, stopping on Seinfeld.

  Why did I do this to myself? Get my hopes up that this time things would be different when deep down, I knew they wouldn’t.

  I ate the whole pint of ice cream, then fell asleep.

  A little past ten, I woke with hair in my eyes and drool on the corner of my mouth—sexy.

  I got up to pee, then took the ice-cream carton to the trash and dumped the spoon in the sink. On the off chance a crisis had cropped up at work—not to see if that loser, Nathan, had ever bothered to return my text—I checked my phone. Other than a courtesy message from AT&T that I’d gone over my monthly data allowance, the smartphone’s screen was blank.

  Perfect.

  I took a nice soak in the tub, then had just settled back into bed when someone knocked at my door. A glance at my nightstand clock told me it was midnight. Too late for guests. Too early for the cleaning service. Probably it was a drunk neighbor who’d wandered onto the wrong floor.

  I rolled over, assuming the poor soul would go away.

  He or she didn’t.

  Phone in hand to call security, I flipped on my bedside lamp, then trudged to the door to squint through the peephole. One look and I jerked open the door, ready to kill. Nathan. “Are you kidding me? How did you even find where I live, let alone get past security? I can’t believe—”

  “Shhh…” He brushed past me, nudging me against the now closed door, taking my wrists and pinning them above my head, where they bit into the cool wood. He angled his lips atop mine, not asking, but taking, and even though I hated myself for it, I was all too willing to give.

  I arched into him, meeting his tongue thrust for thrust.

  My breasts ached. And lower? Pulsing need consumed me.

  I couldn’t think or breathe. I could only want.

  His attention turned to my neck, where he nipped and sucked and stole what precious little remained of my sanity. He hadn’t texted. He hadn’t called. And I didn’t care about anything other than the fact that he was dragging my panties down and I was letting him, welcoming him, stepping free of them to spread my legs, welcoming cool air against my fevered core.

  He released my wrists to take my hands, settling them on his shoulders while he made a slow descent, kneeling before me, nudging my legs even farther apart until I felt exposed and raw and desperate for his next touch. He licked and bit and sucked at my inner thighs, but didn’t so much as breathe on the part of me most needy for his attention.

  “Nathan, please…”

  “Shhh…”

  “Don’t shh me. I need more than this—now.”

  He glanced up, killing me with a sexy half-grin. “Anyone ever told you you’re bossy?”

  “Sorry I’m not sorry. Finish the job already!”

  His expression was unreadable. What could be going on behind those soulful brown eyes?

  “Nathan!” I couldn’t help but squirm—apparently a bad decision as for the second time that week, he tossed me over his shoulder. Knowing the outcome of this particular game, instead of struggling, I wriggled my ass for him, but all that netted me was a bite to my right cheek. “Ouch!”

  He tossed me to the bed, swept my T-shirt up and over my head, then somehow managed to twist it into a figure-eight knot that he used to restrain me to one of the slats in my mirrored headboard. And then he walked away.

  “Nathan? What the hell?”

  He shrugged. “You wouldn’t play by the rules, so I had to change the game.”

  “What rules?” I was naked and tied up and not sure if I was more angry or turned on.

  Angry. Yes, I was very,
very angry. “Nathan!”

  He not only didn’t answer, but left me, aiming for the kitchen. Next came the sounds of the fridge door opening and closing, drawers and cabinets being rummaged through, and then he was back, helping himself to a seat in the roomy armchair I used for reading. He’d made a sandwich and took his time tearing off the crusts before eating the center.

  “Good?” I asked.

  He nodded.

  I wrestled against my T-shirt restraint, but found it surprisingly strong. “You do know that once I get free of this, you’re toast.”

  A shrug was all my fury netted.

  I struggled harder. My arms were starting to hurt from the position, and now, I wasn’t just pissed off, but a little scared. What if Liam had been right and Nathan did have some crazy-dark skeletons in his closet? What had I gotten myself into? I should have never even opened the door!

  He pressed a napkin to his mouth, set his empty plate on the floor, then stood, arms folded, just staring at me lying helpless in the bed. One by one, he unfastened the buttons on his starched white oxford. Next, he swept his white T-shirt over his head. His shoulders and abs were a freak of nature—so hard. Make no mistake, I was still furious with him, but I craved exploring his every nook and cranny. “Are you ready to try letting me wear the pants in this relationship?”

  When he unfastened the waistband of his gray slacks, my breath hitched.

  Oh boy. Here we go. Instantly wet, my fury with him morphed into something I didn’t even recognize. I wanted him with a dirty, freak-show intensity I didn’t even kind of understand, but went with. There was nothing about Nathan that was conventional. Only just now did I realize that was a good—no, great—thing. What would he do next? Part of my attraction for him was in never knowing.

  “Was that a yes or no on the whole bossy thing?”

  My mouth had gone too dry to speak, so I nodded.

  “Good girl.”

  The closer he came, the more my pulse raced. Would he pleasure me with his fingers? Tongue? If I spoke at all, would he stop altogether? He’d never seemed to care before if I took charge—even though technically, I suppose both times we’d been together, he’d ultimately taken the lead. Why now the sudden change?

  When he joined me on the bed, every inch of me tingled—hyperaware.

  He sat beside me, brushing his hand along my thigh.

  I wanted him closer.

  I got my wish when he leaned over, resting his head for a moment against my breasts. Then he was reaching up to untie my restraint.

  My arms ached when I lowered them, but that hurt was nothing compared to the confusion of wondering what had happened to cool the erotic mood. I wanted to ask about his day, about why he had invited me out only to then ignore my text, but I sensed that for whatever reason, he craved peace. I relaxed into him, cradling him, kissing the top of his head. He held me for the longest time as if he were in pain, and then he rose to press his lips to mine in a kiss that struck me as not just hungry, but starving for companionship and understanding.

  He rolled on top of me, sweeping my hair back from my face. “You’re so beautiful. I don’t deserve you.”

  True, I almost teased, but his compliment felt too heartfelt to take a chance on coming off as snark. “Thank you,” I whispered before returning his kiss. “So are you.”

  I’d expected twisted kink, but for our third union, instead received a slow, sweet tenderness that when he’d finally rolled on a condom and eased inside of me left me spellbound. It might have been night, but his warmth captured me in a lazy ray of sun. I was floating, happy, afraid to open my eyes for fear the spell might break.

  A gentle stroke to my hip, a lingering touch to my shoulder, transcendent kisses that numbed me to anything but him. This wasn’t about a quick fix, but so much more, and I reveled in all of it. When release finally came, for a moment, I couldn’t breathe. The intensity frightened me, and I found myself clinging to him, this man I hardly knew but curiously felt as if I’d always known. What we’d just shared wasn’t normal, but more in the realm of fairy dust, which made it all the more desirable and at the same time, a little scary.

  What have you done to me? I wanted to ask.

  If this should end badly, what would I do?

  Because it had been my experience that when it came to men, things always ended badly. No one ever found me lovable enough to stay.

  This realization crushed me, and I scrambled from Nathan’s embrace for the shower’s anonymity. I didn’t want to cry in front of him. I sure didn’t want him to know how much I cared. The key to my self-preservation had always been carefully hiding the fact that I very much did care—about everything. My father abandoning me and Mom. Me, in turn, abandoning my daughter. Yes, I’d given her up for adoption, and yes, she was probably far better off with her adoptive parents than she ever would have been with me, but that didn’t make the sting of her being out there—away from me—hurt less.

  I sank to the floor, not caring about the tile’s cold bite against my ass. What just happened? Why, all of a sudden, was I consumed by such a crushing sense of loss?

  When the shower door opened and Nathan joined me, I shook my head. “No. I can’t be with you right now.”

  “Carol, babe, is this about me tying you up?” He joined me on the floor, cradling me against him. “I’m sorry. I thought we were having fun.”

  We were. “It’s not that.” For extra emphasis, I shook my head against the reassuringly solid wall of his chest. I couldn’t admit the real reason for my tears. It was too soon. He’d think me an idiot if I blurted that what we’d just shared had touched me so deeply that I was now afraid to be with him, because I couldn’t bear inevitably seeing him go. Since full disclosure was off the table, I did at least share a partial truth. “I’m sorry. It’s been a long day, and it’s late, and…”

  “What’s wrong?” Seated alongside me, he wrapped his arm around my shoulders, drawing me into a sideways hug.

  “Nothing.” I kissed him. Even if I wanted to tell him everything my wounded heart had been through, where would I start? As far as Nathan knew, Liam was my only hang-up. How fast would he run if I admitted to so much more?

  “Last I checked,” he tucked his hand beneath my chin, running the pad of his thumb along my lower lip, “nothing doesn’t reduce women to tears. If this is about me showing up in the middle of the night—”

  I shook my head. “I’m sure not happy with you inviting me to dinner, then standing me up, but I’m hoping you had a good reason?”

  He sighed, arching his head back against the tile wall. “My new boss yaks more than a fucking talk show host. I didn’t think she’d ever let me go.”

  “Where were you?” I was almost afraid to ask. A sex cave? The whips-and-chains factory?

  “Her musty old mansion on Snob Hill. She spent hours lecturing about wine. How to drink it, swirl it, smell it, piss it.”

  “Really?” I couldn’t help but raise my eyebrows and smile. “You’re now an expert at pissing a nice merlot?”

  “Is that more sass, Miss Bossypants?” His half-grin made me forget everything but him. How had I never noticed his sheer, male beauty? His chiseled face and dark eyes and sexy stubble. The way when his gaze met mine and held it, showing me that at that moment, I was the only woman on his mind. “Because you know what happens to bad girls…”

  “Gosh, Nathan,” I teased in what I hoped was my best sexy schoolgirl voice. “I’m not sure I remember. Maybe I need a refresher course?”

  With warm water streaming between us, he taught me everything I needed to know.

  And for a little while, I forgot the reasons I shouldn’t be with him—at least until we’d mutually dried each other and then he’d spooned me in the bed. And I was alone with the sick thought that I’d seriously just indulged in a Hot Teacher game without using a condom when I’d already played out the real thing back in high school and wound up with a child.

  Chapter 11

  Na
than

  I woke before Carol. Hell, before the sun.

  In the fragile light of dawn, without her makeup or false eyelashes or imposing power suits and hair, she looked younger—soft and pretty and not at all like the hard-ass I suspected she only pretended to be.

  Naked, I slid out of bed and figured out her fancy coffeemaker, then rummaged in her fridge for anything to make for breakfast. With eggs, mozzarella and fresh spinach, I could do an omelet. She apparently didn’t believe in fat or carbs—the diet bread I’d used for my late-night sandwich tasted like cardboard—so the heaping plate of biscuits and gravy I craved was out. She didn’t even have butter, but I did find butter-flavored Pam. Yuck.

  While cracking the eggs in a glass bowl, I couldn’t help but wonder what it would take to finally crack Carol’s tough-girl exterior. She’d shown teasing glimpses of herself, but I suspected there was a lot more she wasn’t sharing. Why? Was she just not that into me? Or had Liam and some other guys hurt her that bad?

  I knew the feeling.

  After Mom died, though I knew it was stupid, part of me felt abandoned—like she hadn’t tried hard enough to live. As a result, for a long time after her death, I resented her leaving. I’d taken out my pain by basically saying a big “screw you” to my future. After all, what was the point? We’re all just gonna die, right? Dad tried his best to tame me, but I wasn’t having it. It was far easier to feel better at the bottom of a bottle than sit around listening to his attempts to save me when he was still broken from his own loss.

  Until meeting Ella, I hadn’t even had an interest in women. I didn’t want a steady girl, and I sure as hell didn’t want a wife. But Ella gradually brought back my smile. And by the time I decided to move out here, she’d made me believe love was worth the price of inevitable loss. In Ella, I’d learned to once again want more—not just for myself, but for both of us.

  I whisked the eggs, sprayed the Pam in a nonstick frying pan, then dumped in the yellow goo before searching for a spatula.

  It killed me that now here I was with a great job and an even better girl, only she’d spent part of the night crying and I didn’t know why, and that bugged me. Hell, I didn’t know where the two of us were headed, or if she even wanted more from me than just freaking phenomenal sex. But the funny thing was, from out of nowhere, just like Ella once had, Carol made me want more.