No Strings Attached (The Escort #1) (2 page)

Chapter Two

Leah             

I Expected Something Much Raunchier
, but instead this looked like a modeling site. I scrolled through the page. “There’s so many of them. These guys are all in DC?” There was a whole world out there I had no idea about.

“A good number of them. Some of them are in New York and a few in Miami.”

“And they’re not gay?”

“They’re definitely all into women.” Kari spent enough time around politicians to know how to spin anything.

“How many of these guys have you been out with?” I finally sat down, easing into my desk chair like it might bite me in the ass. I scrolled through the page. I had yet to click on any profiles. It was stupid to be so intimidated. I was just looking.

“Quite a few of them.” Kari leaned over my shoulder. “Click on Jason’s profile. See if he’s available.”

“Oh no. We aren’t sharing escorts. That’s where I draw the line.” I still clicked on his photo. Jason was a safe place to start. He mentioned the golf thing, and that he’d been a marine who’d served in Iraq. He talked about making people feel safe and comfortable, and being able to make conversation with anyone. Including the vice president, apparently.

She laughed. “Okay, then you’ll want to avoid the whole top row and Simon. But he’s got a wicked English accent and a dirty mouth. You might want to reconsider.”

I clicked on Simon’s picture. What the hell. He was a medical student, spoke three languages, and his full lips already had me fantasizing about his warm breath tickling my ear, promising to do absolutely filthy things to my body. It was almost enough to convince me to give Kari’s sloppy seconds a try. “He can’t be the only wild one. What about…” My hand froze as I scrolled down and saw a picture of the guy who made my heart pound more than the promise of Simon’s dirty talk. “This one?”

His dark hair brushed his shoulders and his arm was raised above his head in the photo next to his profile. His name was Jagger (yeah, right), he was thirty-two, and a photographer. He’d traveled through Europe and Asia, said he had a passion for creating and loved beauty in all forms.

Hopefully, he appreciated it in a thirty-eight-year-old, single mother, voluptuous package.

Kari’s face paled. “I wouldn’t bring him to meet the vice president.”

“How about your ex-husband at the high school reunion that your best friend is dragging you to?” I raised my eyebrows, barely able to keep my enthusiasm under wraps. Jagger was the polar opposite of Rich, who had thinning hair, a pot belly, and coached little league.

Jagger was absolutely perfect.

I’d always had a thing for guys who looked like that but never had a chance to do anything about it, mainly because I married my high school sweetheart. Not that it stopped Rich from finding
his
type, of course. Jagger looked like some of the musicians I worked with. Even if they were flirty, I’d brushed it off. I had a strict Don’t Shit Where You Eat policy. Sometimes I thought my policy was incredibly stupid.

“No one’s going to believe that he’s your date.” Kari shook her head. She angled the computer toward her and clicked out of his profile, probably headed back to Jason. “He’s gorgeous, but once you get him to Scituate, you’ll realize you made a huge mistake.”

“Why?” She was pissing me off. “I work with people like him all the time. He’s an artist, I’m an artist. I’ve changed since I left. Everything. You know that. I’m finally getting a chance to be me. If that doesn’t fit in the little box everyone put me in with Rich, they have Shelley for that now.”

“You’re a mom. And he looks like some sort of sex god.”

“Even better!” I laughed. God, I hoped he was. “Listen, your taste in borrowed men isn’t cheap. If I’m spending this kind of money, which eventually I’ll be footing the bill, I’m buying the fantasy. Yeah, I’m fucking it up by bringing him to my high school reunion, but I’m sure he’s been to worse. I need to make this night not suck. So what if people talk about me? Let them talk.”

“Maybe this isn’t such a good idea,” Kari backpedaled.

“Did I find someone who actually intimidates the mighty Kari?” I smirked. She was doing nothing to help her cause. Her freak out made Jagger even more intriguing.

“No, he doesn’t intimidate me. I thought we’d break you in with someone gentler, that’s all.” She chuckled, scrolling through the page, looking for anyone else to talk me out of Jagger Holiday. Wasn’t going to happen. “There’s no one on Right Match?”

“Nope.” I stepped away from the desk and sat down on the hot pink couch. The office was the perfect place for our argument. It was the embodiment of everything I’d changed since moving to Georgetown. Vintage lettering illuminated the walls and provided our only light. I’d found old concert posters and used them for the rest of the artwork. All my best ideas came in this room. But I usually only brought my clients in here. No one who was close to me. This was the first time Kari had been here. Why was I afraid to let people into the place I felt free? “We already established that. Why do you want me to sell myself short? What’s wrong with bringing this hot piece of ass to the reunion?”

“He looks like a home wrecker.” Kari settled into my chair and opened the Right Match site. “What’s your password?”

“Purple95.” I sighed. She wasn’t going to believe me unless she saw the prospects with her own eyes. “I bet no one said that about Shelley.”

“I just want you to be happy. That Jagger guy looks like trouble.”

“If I could be so lucky. I’m dying of boredom, and I’m sick of settling for less than what I deserve. I’m paying. I’m calling the shots. And so what if this guy turns out to be a dick? I just get a bunch of cats and stop shaving my legs. Raven already thinks I’m a crazy old lady. Might as well own it.”

“So stay the course, basically.” Kari laughed.

“Right.” I got up to look at my inbox. I hadn’t checked my profile in weeks. I was sure I’d have a story about at least one of the guys in there.

Or maybe not. It was empty.

“I have absolutely nothing to lose.”

Chapter Three

              Jagger

“
I’m Not Going
.”

I was getting too old for this shit.

“She’s a friend of one of our best clients. Have you ever worked with Karina Gomez?” Barry, my agent asked me like I hadn’t just shot him down. He had a way of making everything sound like the opportunity of a lifetime. He was too fucking good at this.

I rubbed my hand over my face, trying to make last night go away. It was no use, she was still in my bed. I would’ve told her to get the fuck out if I had any idea what her name was.

I’d gone out with my buddy Zach last night and brought a girl back from the bar from me. It wasn’t supposed to be anything more than it was. A fuck. Every once in a while it was nice to have sex without being told what to do. But she should’ve gone home last night. Now things were sure to get messy. They always did.

“Never heard of her. I told you I don’t go to DC. Local clients only.” The last thing I needed was to spend two days traveling to spend a few hours with a bored housewife. There were enough of those in Miami to keep my dick busy until the apocalypse.

“I thought you said you needed money.”

“Not that bad.” I
wanted
money was more like it. I’d been looking at a loft space in Wynwood. It was a storefront next to my favorite blues bar, and the perfect spot for an art gallery. Call it an exit strategy if you want. I thought of it more as sanity.

“She asked for you, Jagger. No one else. And Karina’s willing to pay whatever it takes to get your sorry ass up there.” Barry sighed. He was getting sick of my shit. I’d been with him for eight years now, and I thought I had the right to lay some ground rules. He thought he could fix any situation by throwing money at it. In his defense, it usually worked.

I knew how to play this game. “Charge her double.”

“Done.”

“Fine. But this is the last time I’m traveling. Local only. If they want me that bad they can take a trip to Miami.”

“You cocky bastard.” Barry laughed. “If I do that I don’t want to hear any crying that you’re not making the money you used to. There’s only so long you’re going to get by being just a pretty face.”

“It’s a chance I’m willing to take.” I was a male escort. I was paid to make women’s fantasies come true. Sometimes that just meant they needed someone to talk to about their soul-sucking job or their husband that didn’t pay attention them anymore. Some of them needed to be able to ask for what they wanted behind closed doors without being judged. I was the last person who’d do that. I’d tie them up, whip them with a cat o’ nine tails, and fuck them until they lost their voice from screaming. Or I’d run them a bubble bath and wash their hair. Whatever they wanted, their wish was my command.

Every time I tried to get out, there was another excuse to drag me back in. Student loans with interest that multiplied like a family of jack rabbits. The car I wrecked last year. The photography projects that never paid for themselves. And now, that vacant gallery space with the for rent sign taunting me every time I passed.

For the first time in a long time, I needed something more. Something I could call my own and be proud of. Something to fucking show for myself. And it scared me.

“Hey, sugar.” The girl in my bed stretched, her tits slipping out from the falling sheet. They were perfect. She paid a lot of money for them, so they should be. I was pissed at myself for falling asleep before she did last night. Now I’d never get rid of her. “Did you make coffee?”

“There might be some left.”

Pulling the sheet back, she climbed out of bed, strutting over to me. I let her kiss me, but I didn’t kiss her back. With her tits pressed against my bare chest, she wriggled her hot little body back and forth. My cock twitched, but I refused to give in. If I fucked her again she’d think it was a commitment. She batted her eyelashes at me. “Last night was pretty crazy.”

That was a good way to describe it. What I remembered of it. “Yeah.”

“What do you want to do today?” she asked, running a finger from her lips down to her tit, circling her nipple. It puckered on contact. Fuck.

“I’m going to the gym. I have a client later on. You need to go
,”
I growled and walked away from her before I pushed her back down on the mattress and had her again.

“You must have time for a little something.” She ran her teeth along her bottom lip.

Maybe I did.

No.

I stepped back to her, turning her around so she faced the trail of her discarded clothing strewn all over my bedroom floor. “Sweetheart.” I pulled her hair to the side so my lips moved against her neck. “I don’t even know your name.”

“It’s Kayla, you son of a bitch.” I couldn’t argue with her, but it did the trick. Her eyes filled with tears as she got dressed in a hurry, slamming the door shut when it was time for her walk of shame. I collapsed on the bed, closing my eyes and inhaling the stench of meaningless sex. Kayla was hot as hell, but she didn’t make me feel a thing. I was completely fucking numb to life unless I was viewing it from behind my camera lens. Even then I only liked things that were ruined and forgotten.

I didn’t know what I was looking for, but I sure as hell wasn’t going to find it with Kayla. Or in Washington, DC. But I was a professional and I’d go up there and make the lady feel like a queen, especially for double my rate. Then I’d forget all about her.

I was getting too old for this shit.

Chapter Four

Leah

Tonight I Had An Appointment With Jagger Holiday
. I didn’t know whether I should be excited or terrified.

This was much more complicated than I expected. Jagger lived in Miami, which instantly intrigued the designer in me. I’m obsessed with Miami Modern architecture and had yet to visit the city. Maybe he could show me around once we got through this reunion. His schedule was just as complicated as mine. The only common day we had for our appointment--I hated calling that because it sounded like a trip to the dentist--had been a week away. I almost backed out a thousand times. To convince myself I was doing the right thing, I’d become very interested in my Right Match profile again. I even downloaded the app on my phone. I kept checking it, but it was nothing but emails from my assistant, texts from Raven and Kari, and Facebook updates about the reunion.

We’d just gone into pre-production for a new season of design segments on Good Start Today so my schedule was as close to normal as it was ever going to get. My show appearances weren’t live. We took a field trip to New York and taped a bunch of them at a time. Sometimes other places when the job called for it. I loved pre-production because it was when I actually got to be creative. This was when we chose the segments and started renovations. And it kept my mind off of Jagger Holiday.

If this had been a Right Match meeting, I would’ve received a half dozen emails full of nervous chatter leading up to the date. An inclination of what to expect. An honest read on the guy. And I might have canceled. But I hadn’t even talked to Jagger. Kari handled everything. That made me nervous on a whole different level.

My black wrap dress never did me wrong. I smoothed it against the curve of my full hips and looked in the mirror. Clipping on Lisa’s pearl drop earrings for luck, I thought I looked pretty damn good. I wasn’t a skinny girl by a long shot, but ever since the divorce I’d been working with a trainer. The camera gave me no place to hide, and now I had curves in all the right places. Viewers even wrote to me, telling me how happy they were to see a woman who looked like them on TV.

One last adjustment of my platinum curls; I’d lightened my hair once my on-air segments started. I had to get it done more often, but it hid the gray better and I loved the Marilyn vibe it gave off. Raven insisted I looked like I was trying too hard. She must’ve gotten that idea from Shelley or Rich. Most likely Shelley. She had horrible taste, and Rich never paid that much attention.

I leaned forward one more time and checked my lipstick. I went with red even though it would be all over my face like a back alley hooker once anything touched my lips. Nothing about tonight was practical. My heart slammed so hard against my ribcage I expected it to jump out of the low neckline and splatter all over my open-toe shoes.

Jagger was waiting for me when I got to The Eighty Seven. I picked my favorite bar because I needed to have some control over the night, not to mention they made the best sangria in the DC metro area. I felt confident with this claim, Kari and I had done a lot of research. The after work crowd had begun to filter out and only a few stragglers remained when I walked in at seven on the dot. The bar would stay quiet until the DJ set up and the college kids took over.

My breath caught in my throat when I saw his silhouette, drenched in jewel tone light. He sat at one of the high-topped tables near the bar. Until now, Jagger Holiday had been nothing more than a photo on a computer screen and the recent star of my late night fantasies. It had been a good place for him. He’d made fast friends with my battery operated boyfriend and they made one hell of a tag team.

But here he was flesh and blood, and Jesus, how was it possible that he was even better looking in person? Looking at him was like looking at the sun for too long. I was sure to get burned.

“Leah?” His face brightened when I approached the table. I stopped before I took the last step, nodding as Jagger stood up, taking my hand and bringing it to his lips. His dark hair tickled my wrist. “I’m Jagger. I’ve been looking forward to meeting you.”

I slid onto the clear plastic bar stool. Jagger chuckled. “I’d pull out the chair for you, but…”

“I’m not used to anyone doing that.” I shrugged in apology. It would’ve been nice, but I hadn’t expected it. I picked up the menu even though I knew what I wanted before I’d walked in. My hands needed to keep busy or else I might reach out and touch his hair, just to brush it back off his shoulder. It had been so soft against my arm. “Thanks for meeting me here.”

“It’s my pleasure.” Jagger cocked an eyebrow. It was pretty clear he’d already picked up on how self-conscious I was about this. “I want to get something out of the way. Don’t apologize for being here, Leah. Life’s too short for regrets.”

If I met his eyes, I would’ve turned bright red. Instead they fell to my wrist.
Live for me.
“Tell me about it,” I mumbled.

When I did look up, my sadness was reflected in his eyes. This guy had something to prove, too. It made him more human to me. I relaxed, and his smile brought those damn pins and needles back to the surface of my skin. “What did you have in mind for tonight?” he asked.

“First of all, a drink.” I laughed. What a surprise, the waitress came over as soon as Jagger motioned to her. This guy had a gravitational pull that threatened to suck everyone in. Especially me. I needed to reel myself back. This wasn’t a date, it was an appointment.

I ordered my sangria and he got a vodka tonic. I took a deep breath after she walked away. Jagger had my head spinning. My drink couldn’t come fast enough. “Let’s just talk,” I continued. “How much do you know about this?”

Jagger chuckled. “About taking a woman on a date? I’ve done it once or twice.” Great, he was going to ruin everything by being a cocky bastard. “What are you talking about?”

“I’m looking to take someone with me to my high school reunion.” I took a careful sip of my drink. Perfection. “It’s in Massachusetts the weekend before Thanksgiving. I’d really like that someone to be you. But I wanted to make sure that we were on the same page and,” I sighed before continuing, “that we weren’t a complete train wreck together.”

“Who are you looking to stick it to from high school?” Jagger didn’t miss a beat.

“My ex-husband.” I managed a half-smile before running my finger along the rim of my glass. “We crashed and burned to say the least, and I know it’s petty, but I want to show him what he walked out on.”

“You know this never goes well, right?” he said matter-of-factly. I did my best not to choke on my wine. “It’s never as easy as walking in and claiming an award.”

“I know that.” I sighed. “I want closure. Not from him, but from everyone who was involved in the demise of the relationship. I’ve traded up in every other aspect of my life. You’d be playing the role of the only piece I’m missing. Of course, that is if you choose to accept your mission.”

Jagger leaned forward, and there was something primal about it. Territorial. He was going to be perfect. “Mission accepted. A woman like you should leave any man’s jaw hanging on the floor.”

“I think I like your style.” The sangria blended well with the tingle Jagger brought to my skin.

“You will.” The heat that radiated from him threatened to reduce me into a puddle of lady goo. “What do you do?”

“I’m an interior designer.”

“Oh yeah!” Even in the strobe lights, his eyes lit up. They seemed lighter than they did in his pictures, but I couldn’t tell for sure, yet. “I thought you looked familiar. I’ve seen you on TV. The stuff you do is cool.”

“Thanks. I always say I should send Rich, my ex, a thank you card because since I caught him in bed with that slut,” I still got pissed every time I talked about her, “I’ve finally had a chance to do what I always wanted to do. But I don’t want to talk about him. I’ve wasted enough time of your time already doing that. Tell me about you.”

Jagger leaned back in his seat, and that hair I’d been dying to wrap around my fingers fell over his shoulder. He’d worn a dark gray suit jacket with a light patterned button-down shirt underneath, untucked over worn jeans, and combat boots. Three tiny silver hoop earrings glittered above the long line of his neck. He had an ease about him that screamed confidence. It came naturally to him. He owned who he was. Tonight he could be himself, but I could tell he’d be just as comfortable when the job called for him to put on a tux and blend in at a Kari-style work event. Even with the vice president.

“I’ve been doing this for a little while now.” His lips spread into a coy smile. “I live in Miami.”

“I’ve never been there, but I’m dying to visit. The architecture style is so similar to what I do. Is your name really Jagger?” I blurted out before I could stop myself. I needed to slow down the wine consumption. He shifted in his chair and the smile disappeared. I managed to irritate him already and he was contractually obligated to put up with me for another three hours and forty-five minutes. “Come on. Really?”

“My mom’s really into the Stones. My sister’s name is Ruby.”

“Ruby Tuesday?” He nodded, stirring the little straw around the edge of his glass and grinning. “Does this keep you busy?” I had so many questions for him. I couldn’t make it any worse, so there was no harm in asking while I had his full attention. “Like a full-time job?”

“It depends. Certain times of the year, I’m very busy. Others, I have some time to myself. I like to take advantage of that. Travel, work on my photography.”

His profile mentioned photography, and I was dying to know more. “What type of stuff do you like to shoot?”

“Mostly artistic stuff. Sometimes I shoot models, but then it’s a huge team and concept. Too many personalities and bullshit most of the time. I thought I wanted to shoot fashion, but it’s hardly worth the money. On a day off, I like to take out my motorcycle and shoot abandoned properties.”

“Abandoned properties? That’s so cool. Do you have a portfolio? I’d love to see your stuff.” Most people thought I was out of my mind when I when I got utterly lost staring at the broken hulls of forgotten houses. “I love that stuff, but I can never convince anyone to go inside with me. They all think I’m crazy. I could ask you a million questions about that, now that I actually have someone to talk about it with. The stories within those places, I want to know them all.”

He leaned forward, something glittering in his eyes. “Right? The ghosts are all still there. I swear I can feel them sometimes. I always think about what makes a place go from a building people were proud of to something that’s been left to fall to ruins. It haunts me.”

“It’s a history lesson, all in itself. The pieces of the past that can’t come with us, but we don’t know how to get rid of.” It sounded like my life, too. “Is that what you...How did you start doing
this
for work?” I motioned to him. Jagger may have been relaxed, but I was still having a hard time with the fact I’d hired him.

He chuckled and took a long sip of his drink. “I did modeling when I was in college for art students, and then I was in some movies.” That sly smile was back when my face lit up. “Of an adult nature. I’d been curious about it so I checked it out, but I hated that lifestyle. A buddy told me about escorting, and I originally got into it to pay off my student loans. I was apprehensive because I thought it would be like porn, but it’s not at all. I’ve met a lot of great people. Ones like you, with a need to be fulfilled. That are tired of the bullshit and broken promises. I only meant to do it for a couple of years, but then it became part of my life.”

“Did you go to school for photography?”

He shook his head. “Biology.” His face darkened, and he didn’t seem interested in talking about science.

“What’s your favorite part of being an,” it felt scandalous to say it out loud, to his face, “escort?”

“Meeting beautiful women like yourself.” He reached out and hooked his finger in mine. The movement was light, his fingernail running the length of the back of my palm. It sent electricity surging through my body. He knew what he was doing, all right. “Getting to know them. What makes them tick. What they want.”

I sucked in a breath. The electricity had channeled itself to a throbbing between my legs. I squeezed them together to make that sensation go away. Didn’t work. I almost told Jagger he was laying it on too thick, and that he didn’t have to try that hard. But fuck it. This is what I’d wished for my whole life, someone to shower attention on me. I was going to let him work for it. “What do you want to know?”

“What are you passionate about?” His eyes locked with mine and his fingers stopped moving. So did my heart. He squeezed my hand, and all that electricity shot straight up to my brain. The room started spinning. “What turns you on?”

I opened my mouth to speak, but soon I realized I didn’t have the answer that he was looking for. He wanted me to reveal some dark, dirty secret. The only one I had was the only part of myself I’d been afraid to explore, left to deteriorate like the abandoned houses that fascinated us both. Rich was the first man I’d ever kissed. By the time I knew what to ask for, he wasn’t taking requests. So I played the good wife and pretended to be happy about it. He played the part of the good husband and started fucking someone else.

Whatever. Let Shelley get groped and prodded for about fifteen minutes one night a month for the rest of her life. She could give a Rich his birthday bonus, too. Better her than me.