Boyfriend for Hire: A Stand-Alone Contemporary Romance (Escort Files Book 1) (7 page)

Screw it
, she thought and stabbed the button. As she listened to the phone reach across the sea, she paced in front of the windows and watched the moonlight dance on the low waves. It really was breathtaking. And now, for the first time in her life, she had swum in water so warm it felt as if she were merely floating in a perfect summer breeze. It really was everything she’d been told.

Perfect.

And so was Mike. He was like some sort of ideal specimen of male, like someone had delved into her mind and picked out every fantastic aspect of every man she’d ever dated and then rolled them all into one guy.

It wasn’t just his incredible body, which was truly, epically incredible. It wasn’t just his far-too-handsome face, all chiseled planes and soft eyes. It was the way he spoke, the way he looked at her, the way he touched things, as if he knew he was too strong to be rough or careless.  

When she’d changed into her swimsuit and met him at the beach for a late afternoon swim, she’d been able to pick him out instantly. Facing out to sea, his broad shoulders and rippling muscle were like a beacon amongst the smaller figures scattered around. His dark hair fluttered in the breeze and she picked out hints of deep red—yet more fire—when the sun shone down on him.

Amy had almost turned around right then. Her suit was a one-piece, but that was a technicality. It was Marion’s choice, of course, and nothing that Amy would have ever selected. She’d been looking at simple tank suits meant for swimming laps, but Marion had snatched those away with a snort and shoved this one at her. Black, with a wide scoop cut out at the side that bared her midriff and most of her back, it had one wide strap over the shoulder and showed far more skin than she liked.

Almost as if sensing her, he’d turned and stared as she picked her way over the hot sand. Amy thought she’d seen something in his face, a hint of desire, a fire being stoked. Then he’d jerked a little and splashed out into the water, beckoning her from a waist-high depth.

And later, when they’d been playing, she’d wanted him to kiss her so badly her legs would have buckled had she not been held up by the water. And it looked like he’d wanted to as well. His hands connected with her waist and he’d kicked closer, but then Amy had chickened out and locked her elbows so he couldn’t get any nearer, her hands splayed across his slippery chest.

“Oh my god! Did you screw him yet? Please send me a picture,” Marion said as the line connected.

“What if this would have been someone else?” Amy asked, laughing.

“It’s your phone, you ding-dong. So, did you boink him? Gross, I got pee on the seat.”

The sound of Marion rushing about filled the line, then the distinct sound of a flush. “I don’t even want to know,” Amy said.

Marion laughed her big, unashamed laugh and said, “My phone was on the table and I was taking a piss. You do the math.”

“You could have just called me back, you know.”

A snort came through the line and Marion said, “Abso-fucking-lutely not. Did you sleep with him?”

“God! No, I haven’t slept with him.”

“Will you send me a picture?”

“I am not going to hold up my phone and snap a picture to text you. He’ll know what I’m doing. That’s crass.”

“You could do it sneaky like. Catch him during the afterglow or something. So, boink him so I can get a picture.”

Amy watched as two people walked along the moonlit beach, the man’s arm around the woman’s waist and their heads close. She sighed. “I’m not going to do that so you can have a picture.”

Marion didn’t answer right away. When she spoke, her smart-alecky tone was gone. “Are you okay? Tell me what you’re thinking.”

Plopping down on the couch, Amy sighed again. How to put it all into words? Well, this was Marion, so it wasn’t like she couldn’t read between every line Amy had ever drawn. “He’s great. Too great. I mean, he’s a hooker, so maybe he’s just really good at his job and a good actor or something, but he seems so…so…”

“So what?”

“Nice. He’s considerate, polite, open and incredibly sexy. I mean, he’s like a walking and talking fantasy come to life.”

“And this is a problem for you how, Amy?”

Amy ran her hands down the beautifully rough robe provided by the hotel. Like everything else, it was perfect. Too perfect.

“I paid for him,” she finally said.

“Yes, yes you did. Which is why you should boink him.”

Amy shook her head, wishing she could see Marion face to face. She might be full of smart remarks, but she would read the conflict in Amy and know exactly what to do. Marion was sure of everything all the time. But she wasn’t here, which meant Amy had to use her words. That wasn’t so easy.

“Marion, I like him. I like him a lot.” There, those were the words. Let’s see what her friend would make of those.

“Oh,” Marion replied, using a single syllable for the first time in a very long time.

“That’s not encouraging me, Marion.”

“Yeah, okay, I’m thinking here.” A bit of humming came through the line, and the rustling of Marion pacing her apartment far away. Finally, she said, “I don’t have an answer here, but Amy, you know the deal. This is temporary. It’s supposed to be for you, not for you to hurt yourself with. Do you like him too much to keep perspective?”

“Perspective is just not going to be my friend,” Amy said truthfully. “I can remind myself after the fact, but when I’m near him, all I see is him.”

“Damn, that’s bad,” Marion said. “I’m so sorry, hun. What can I do?”

“Nothing. What could you do? I just needed to tell you because I knew you would understand.”

“Are you going to come home? Call it off? Maybe ask for a replacement or something?”

Amy slouched further down on the couch so that the couple was no longer in sight. They’d stopped on the beach and were kissing, which is the last thing Amy needed to see. She looked up at the ceiling and thought about her answer.

“No, I’m not going to do any of that. This place is beautiful and I’ve never seen anything like it. I do feel some of the stress going away, even though this other thing is stressing me out too. And I think Mike is having fun. He’s great to hang around with. He has a way of getting me to do stuff that I really want to do, but wouldn’t on my own. And he’s fun to talk to. Did you know he knows the names of fish? I mean, like the real names, the Latin ones. Not all of them, but some of them…” She trailed off, realizing she sounded like she did when she first started dating someone she really liked.

“This is bad,” Marion said.

“Yeah,” Amy agreed.

“Wait, I thought his name was Blake or Blaze or something.”

“Nah, his real name is Mike. Nice and normal.”

“Even worse,” Marion said.

“Yeah,” Amy agreed again.

Eleven

The dawn broke directly into his room and there was simply no way to sleep through it. Not that he wanted to. The sound of the wind through the palms and the chatter of the birds were too beautiful to miss. Mike had always liked the ocean, and growing up on the vast plains of central California’s food basket meant he was close to it.

But the cool waters off California were nothing like this. This was something special and Mike understood why people paid so much to come to an island like this one. It was the least developed, most of the land actually protected. There was less nightlife according to the brochures, but more natural beauty.

And one natural beauty in particular.

Amy hadn’t said anything about when they would meet up when he left her at her cottage door last night and he hadn’t thought to ask. His head had been buzzing with the wine at dinner and his need to kiss her. He’d finally had to put his hands behind his back, fingers locked together. It was the only way he could stop himself from brushing one of those enticing curls away from her shoulder and slipping down the spaghetti strap on her sun dress.

He sighed loudly into the quiet room and a bird outside made a particularly raucous call as if responding. “Yeah, exactly,” he muttered to the unseen bird.

Hopping up and out of bed, he showered and dressed quickly. He’d mentioned a nature trail that she seemed very interested in, so he’d see if that was to her liking today. If so, then they should get started early. The sun wasn’t playing around here in the tropics and her skin was pale.

Pale and creamy and…

He shook his head and tossed his room until he found his sunglasses. Making his way to the pavilion where a breakfast was supposed to be set up, he tried to avoid the gazes of the few who were up and about. At the concierge desk, he asked about more boat charters and got a handful of pamphlets, plus a smiled assurance that she would be pleased to arrange that for him.

“And my girlfriend,” he said, eyeing her.

The concierge kept the smile on her face, but there was less wattage in it. “Of course.”

Mike could smell the pavilion before he saw it. The scents of sausage and bacon permeated the wide hall before he even stepped through the doors. When he stepped onto the big veranda, his attention was drawn immediately by the sight of a post-dawn beach. It was splendid. The low angle of the sun turned the water into a jumble of bright reflections and the lifting day sent a soft breeze over the terrace.

“Wow,” he whispered.

From somewhere nearby and below him, he heard a soft, “Indeed.”

He turned to see an older woman he thought he recognized. When she held up her coffee cup, he did recognize her. This was the woman who had looked at him with a buyer’s gaze when he met Amy for lunch that first day, only this time she wasn’t sipping wine, but coffee.

He nodded at her politely and said, “Beautiful morning.”

She gave him a sly smile and said, “More so now.”

It rankled him to hear that tone. He didn’t know her, but he knew her type. They bought guys like him on a regular basis and made sure they understood they were returnable purchases. But each one was another payment, another portion of land bill he could strike off his debt, so he put up with it.

But not now, not today. “Excuse me. My girlfriend is hungry.”

She almost laughed, almost but not quite. Mike kept his eyes forward and his chin up and didn’t look back. At the service podium, he asked the young man if he could get meals to go so that he and Amy could eat in their room. Finding a couple of containers, the young man suggested room service might be more to their liking. Mike just smiled and shook his head. “Nah, this way I can see what we’re getting and load up without anyone knowing how much I eat.”

The server laughed, seeming surprised to find someone so down-to-earth in this place of wealth, then helped him load up a tray with two overloaded containers as well as juice and coffee. Picking his way over the beach without dumping it all was a challenge, but he made it, wincing as he used his elbow to knock on the door.

He heard a muffled groan and an unintelligible mix of sounds that may have been words, then a thump and heels hitting the floor too hard.

“Are you okay?” he called through the door. “It’s just me, Mike.”

“Oh crap,” he heard through the door, then, “Jesus, look at that.”

Finally, she opened the door and Mike had to grin at her. One side of her hair was wet as if she’d just tried to smooth it down with a splash of water, while the other remained pushed up from sleep. She was wearing a t-shirt emblazoned with the words,
Book Nerd,
and a pair of sleeping capris covered in martini glasses.

She was adorable. When he stepped up into the cottage and past her, he breathed in the scent of sleeping woman and almost dropped the tray.
Just think of baseball, just baseball,
he thought, clenching his jaw.

“Good morning,” he said, smiling at her and trying not to stare at the points of her full breasts where they pressed up against the thin t-shirt fabric.

She raised her head as she sniffed and eyed the tray. “Do I smell bacon there or are you just happy to see me?”

He laughed, which made her give him a sleepy smile. “Oh yes, there is a ridiculous amount of bacon on here. Coffee?”

As he slid the tray onto her table, she dropped down onto the couch with one leg curled beneath her and looked out the window. “Holy moly. That’s gorgeous.”

He followed her gaze and saw that same brilliantly sparkling water of before, only the morning light made it even more vivid, the blue almost a new color that couldn’t be called truly blue anymore. Intense, inviting. Sort of like the woman curled on the couch.

He handed her one of the cups of coffee, then said, “I saw you took it light and sweet, so I hope I did it alright.”

She sipped the hot liquid then sighed, her eyes closing and her neck bared for him. It was too much this early in the morning. He wanted to look away, but found that he couldn’t. His lips could already feel the skin there, his tongue already taste her.

“It’s perfect. Thank you,” she said, smiling at him. Her eyes and lips were still puffy from sleep, giving her that look like she’d just rolled over in bed to wish him a good morning in just the right way. He wanted to see that. Very much.

Clearing his throat and thinking he might need another pillow in his lap, he opened the containers and said, “A hearty breakfast, madam. What’s your poison?”

She glanced into the containers and then grinned, “All of the above.”

“Exactly my thoughts,” he said, then handed her a container and a fork. “Dig in.”

Aside from a few moans over the crispness of the bacon or the surprise of pineapple jam—a new taste for both of them—they said little as they ate. He was starving and thought the outdoor air might have something to do with that. She seemed to feel it too.

As they both sipped their coffee, the ruins of their breakfast on the table beside them, she said, “You’re up early. What’s on the agenda? Did you have something in mind?”

Oh, he did, but that wasn’t an agenda he was allowed to make at the moment. He couldn’t help the thoughts that ran through his head though. She must have sensed it because she looked away, her face flushing. She wiggled her toes on the couch and added, “Something outdoors might be fun again. I’ve been stuck inside for years it seems.”