Boyfriend for Hire: A Stand-Alone Contemporary Romance (Escort Files Book 1) (16 page)

Mike smacked his forehead, slinging shampoo onto the shower curtain behind him. “One.”

“One?”

He nodded and said, “All the rest are women escorts only. And we service a big area, out-call to several states actually. The next big one is northern Virginia. There are plenty of guys in those creepy personal ad sites, but I don’t know anyone who uses those. Too dangerous.”

“So, it’s not such a stretch then,” Amy said. How vindictive do you have to be to do something like that? She actually felt sorry for the woman. And after hearing that fight on the beach that night, she now understood exactly who had been fighting and why. It was sad.

“But she actually tried to book me. That’s freaking weird, don’t you think? I mean, I made it very clear I was here with my girlfriend.”

Amy loved hearing him say it like that, like it was a given, a known bond between them. It might not be true yet, but she felt it coming. This thing between them was like the tide coming in: inevitable.

She thought back to that post-lunch lunch a few days ago. The woman had watched him—wine glass in hand, of course—and then watched them meet (again) at her table, him asking if he could sit, her trying to shake his hand, the little salute with the wine glass.

“I’m sure half the people on the patio knew we didn’t know each other that first day. She certainly knew it. That’s not girlfriend-boyfriend behavior,” Amy said.

The shampoo had started to dry on him and he scratched his arm. Amy waved him back into the shower and said, “Go, rinse. We have to go. Let’s just not think about it right now.”

She enjoyed the view of his ass flexing as he hopped back into the shower, then sighed and went back to flop out on his bed. The best they could do for now was simply avoid that woman. She might even be crazy. It was possible.

Maybe Amy could find another hotel? Rent a house? It’s not like either one of them needed to go back now. Or maybe he did. Amy still had no idea why he’d become an escort, only that he had figured out exactly how much longer he had to do it before he went home…wherever that was.

There was still so much to learn about him. But she had a feeling it would be very fun to get those lessons.

Twenty-Five

The ruins were interesting, in great shape and easy to get around in. It wasn’t a temple in Athens, but it was interesting and he was glad they saw them. The scenery was even better though and they stopped along the drive to watch as the sky changed color with the oncoming sunset.

It wasn’t a hard decision to make when they agreed to stay in her cottage for the night, at most going for a nighttime walk along the beach. Not that Mike wanted to get further from the bed than the bathroom. Now that the hunger in them had been fed, he was hungrier for her body than before.

Still, he tried to be good. Amy needed to eat—to keep up the energy that he fully intended on her using all night long—and he wanted to spend time talking to her too. The room service was excellent, but Mike felt even weirder about accepting her paying for things. The truth was, he simply couldn’t afford to be on this island.

She waved his concerns away and said, “What? Are you going to get chips from the nearest gas station? I dragged you here, I can feed you.”

“Then let’s at least get rid of my room. Will they let you do that?”

Amy leaned back against the window at that—they were eating on the seats that looked out onto the beach. She licked the butter off her fingers from the lobster rolls and said, “Probably, but who knows. This place is packed like nobody’s business this time of year. I’m pretty sure I bribed someone to get that room. I think they keep a few back for things like that.”

He coughed into his hand, bits of seafood flying out. “You
bribed
someone?”

“I’m not entirely sure, but I think so. It’s all very mysterious how things work. I’ve never bullied my way into a resort before. My usual accommodations are more Holiday Inn…the express ones.”

He winced at that, wondering if she’d just blown her life savings on a one week vacation. Maybe she had. Over the past year and a half, Mike had become familiar with the clothing of the wealthy. He wasn’t interested in it, but it was part of his job to know these things. And Amy didn’t wear those clothes. There were no subtly expensive pieces of jewelry, no designer labels.

It was entirely possible that she had done exactly that, spent her savings to get help for a problem too many women had. Sex was a big deal. When you couldn’t get anything out of it, it altered relationships and impacted all areas of life. Mike supposed he might do the same thing if he thought he could find a solution to a problem like that.

Of course, Mike was just guessing. For all he knew she might be a bagillionaire who simply didn’t dress it. He almost hoped not though. He wanted her and he wanted her to feel the same about him. Either way, getting rid of his room would chop some money off the growing bill for this week in a sandy, tropical heaven.

“Do you feel like trying anyway?” he asked.

She nodded and said, “Good idea. We should pack your stuff up in the morning then.”

“Or tonight,” he said, making sure she saw it when he glanced down between her legs.

She laughed and nearly upset the tray on the bench between them when she lifted her leg, offering him a view of the curve of her ass cheek beneath the beach dress she wore.

He caught their glasses before they could tumble and said, “Definitely tonight.”

“Sounds good to me,” she said, plucking up another lobster roll.

He picked up a bowl of cucumber salad and then grinned to himself. She’d found her solution and he’d found her. Who cared if they were poor, they could be poor together. Pizza and beer for a while instead of whatever delicious weirdness they were eating tonight. Still, he wished he could give the money back to her.

They walked their dinner off on the beach, both of them evaluating each pair they saw coming their way in the dark to be sure it wasn’t that woman. Mike hated to admit it, but he was almost afraid of people like that. They did things that made it clear they didn’t view others as human, as equal, or separate from them.

He’d had a client like that once and made sure he told Missy he would not, under any circumstances, see anyone like that again. He’d had to battle all evening just not to get the heebie jeebies around her.

This woman reminded him of that one. Scary.

“You digesting yet?” he asked, nudging her with his elbow as they walked hand in hand.

“I’ve eaten more than I would in a week over the last three days. It’s really ridiculous,” she answered, patting her stomach.

“It’s vacation. We can worry about others judging us later. Besides, you’re freaking hot,” he said.

And it was true. She had curves, but they were just that,
curves
. She was probably in a lot better shape than she thought she was. Then again, most of the women who hired him didn’t see themselves at all the way they appeared in reality. It really was insane how often that was true. He didn’t want Amy to feel that way ever again.

As they crossed the beach to go to his hotel room, he leaned down and nuzzled her neck, giving her a play-growl that really wasn’t all play. She pinched his butt—a move so unexpected it made him
eep
, which was not at all manly—and then laughed as they took the few steps from the sand to the resort proper.

Packing him up was easy, and she
tsked
as he wadded his clothes into the suitcase. He shrugged and said, “We’ll unpack them in a few minutes, right?”

Apparently, he had a point because she stuffed his sandals in after banging the sand off of them. She looked around the room and said, “That’s it?”

He shrugged and said, “I’m a guy.”

Shaking her head, she took his backpack while he took the suitcase and they made their way to the lobby. He looked around to make sure that woman wasn’t around and didn’t see her, but the lobby was wide and opened at four spots, including free passage from the beach side and the long drive.

“You want to wait here while I go work some magic? If I fail, I’ll call you in as a pinch hitter,” Amy said, also looking around.

Mike sat down on a beautiful bench seat that gave him a good view of anyone entering the lobby. “Got it. Go do your thing. Just give me the high sign if you need me.”

“I’ll whistle twice and start a small signal fire,” she quipped and walked away. It was a great view of her too. Her legs looked very long and perfect for wrapping around his waist with that short beach dress on. When she leaned onto the desk, her bathing suit peeked out from beneath it and he had to look away or embarrass himself.

He heard the whistle no more than a couple of minutes later, and turned his head to see her sauntering his way. She flashed him a thumb’s up and winked, so he got up and joined her.

“That fast?” he asked, taking a peek at the desk worker to see if it was a man. He wasn’t exactly jealous…okay, who was he kidding, he was jealous…but it was a woman.

She took the backpack again and wrapped her arm around his free one, snuggling in close as they took the wide walkway back to the beach. “I think she was glad. There are, apparently, a lot of people like me who try to book at the last moment.”

The night had long since fallen and the space was quiet, a few couples sitting around the big patio. Laughter drifted over from a rather lively pre-wedding party that was going on further down the beach, but overall it was peaceful.

Then from behind them, he heard, “Well, isn’t that interesting.”

It was her. They both froze and he heard her laugh, but it wasn’t a pleasant laugh by any means. He looked down and then over at Amy. Her face was set and her eyes narrowed. He saw her jaw move side to side. Mike thought he might be about to see what Amy was like in a fight.

“It doesn’t matter,” he whispered.

Her face snapped up and there was fire in her eyes when she said, “Oh, it matters. I will
not
have that.”

Mike was about to trap her arm in his and get them moving again, but Amy yanked her arm free like a spring breaker with a fake ID when the cops showed up. He turned to stop her and saw the woman standing just outside the door to the restaurant, her husband whispering urgently in her ear while she ignored him. The man looked up at him like he was absolutely miserable and mouthed, “I’m so sorry.”

Amy marched up with her fists clenched at her sides and said, “Exactly what problem do you have with my boyfriend?” To the husband, she said, “Do you know your wife is harassing him? She apparently thinks he’s for hire and I’m not talking about handyman work.”

The man’s face was a study in embarrassment. He stepped between Amy and his wife, who was none too steady on her feet, and said, “She’s been drinking. She’s just…it doesn’t matter, I’m sorry.”

The woman stepped around her husband, her hand clenched on the fabric of his shirt for balance, and said, “He’s a whore. I know. I hired him!”

“Then he’s clearly not doing his job, because he’s with me,” Amy said, not missing a beat.

The man pushed his wife back, but very gently, and said, “We’re leaving. I promise you we’re leaving first thing in the morning.” He glanced over at Mike, then lowered his voice further. “The staff here is discreet, but she can be persistent. I know she made some calls. I can only say that I’m very sorry and that we’re leaving. She won’t bother you again. And I’ll do my best to make sure she doesn’t talk. That’s the last thing you need right now, I think.”

The man seemed defeated and Mike actually felt for the guy. He had no idea what dynamic was going on between them, but it wasn’t healthy. What was going on between those two people was what he most feared. Alcohol and deception were a bad mix in a marriage.

Mike would never do that to Amy. He would never give her cause to become that way either.

He stopped, frozen. Had he really just thought that? That was way too soon, but the way she stood there, her bright pink flip flops like combat boots as she planted herself in front of the couple, made his heart almost stop. She was not one to let anyone bully her or anyone she cared for. And he knew with absolute certainty that she cared for him. It should be him doing that, but the truth was that he couldn’t defend himself on this. It was true. Or it had been.

Setting down the suitcase, he walked up and put his hand on Amy’s arm. “It’s all over, Amy. There’s nothing more to do.”

It took her a few seconds to process that, her face set and her eyes like daggers on the woman halfway behind her husband and more than halfway in the bag. Then she waved a hand and made a sound of disgust.

“I’m done,” she said, turning away like they weren’t worth her time anymore.

Mike grabbed up the suitcase on the fly because Amy was stomping out like the floor deserved to be punished. When they hit the sand, she slowed and took in a huge breath, pushing the air out and then pulling it back in like she was trying to push all the hostility out of her body. She flung her arms out to the side and then looked up at the moon, taking deep breaths.

“Are you alright?” he asked gently, putting a hand to her back so she would know he was there.

She turned and wrapped her arms around him, her head tucked into this chest. The backpack smacked into the back of his legs so that his knees jerked forward and she laughed. “Sorry. I’m not trying to beat you up.”

“That’s okay. You make my knees weak without the brute force though, you know.”

She laughed again, but the sound was wet. She was crying. He hugged her back with his free arm, then dropped the suitcase again and held her tightly. “It’s okay,” he whispered, not really clear why she was crying. Well, maybe she really hated confrontations or something. She’d won, but then again, it shouldn’t have happened in the first place.

She wiped her face on his shirt, then laughed and said, “I just wiped snot on you.”

“It goes well with sand.”

Amy leaned back and looked at him, her eyes soft with affection. It was enough to make him want to sweep her up in his arms and never let her go.