Chapter 4
chapter 4
MAYA
Twyla found someone.
A man.
A man who might be the man.
The man I’m going to pay ten-thousand dollars to have sex with me…
“Holy shit,” I wheeze as I pace the private suite two floors beneath the city street, shaking my hands at my sides as my heart does it’s best to punch a hole through my sternum. “This is fine. It’s fine! You decided it was fine in Maine and on the train into Manhattan and while you were getting dressed tonight. If it was fine then; it’s fine now.”
It is fine.
For six years, I’ve pinched every penny, squirreling away a nest egg to use to buy my first rental property. Now, I have enough for the down payment on the apartment building I’ll be closing on next week and a high-class prostitute.
“Oh my God, you’re hiring a prostitute. Who are you and what have you done with the real Maya?” I sag onto the soft yellow couch on one side of the suite and drop my head between my knees, fighting to pull myself together as the reality of what I’ve done hits me full force.
It’s not about the money.
It was never about the money.
The problem is that I’m light-years out of my comfort zone and likely careening toward the worst decision I’ve made in my entire life. I’ve always been the good one, the dependable one, the friend you can count on to remember when the term paper is due, where the lifeguard stands are, and who in the group is allergic to shellfish.
I’m a good girl and good girls don’t hire prostitutes.
They also don’t lie to their parents or their friends or make secret plans to move to New York if everything goes well with their new rental property. But I’ve done all of those things, and now I’m here, on the verge of seeing who I might become if I stop worrying so much about being “good” and see what being brave can do for me for once.
It might lead me into a wild, wonderful new life as a self-made millionaire before the age of thirty. At the very least, it has a high likelihood of getting me laid, and I’m pretty interested in that.
Heck, I was very interested in that less than an hour ago, when I locked eyes with that gorgeous man by the fire.
I’ve never felt desire like that before, such an instant, overwhelming attraction that my heart instantly beat faster and my nipples pulled tight inside my bra. Just the memory of him sitting there, reading in that big leather chair, with his perfectly mussed hair and intelligent gaze makes heat throb between my thighs.
Thinking of the man—and hoping whoever Twyla found is as effortlessly sexy—I pull in a honeysuckle-and-thyme scented breath and exhale for a count of seven as I sit up. I smooth my hair and fold my hands in my lap to keep them from shaking and focus on my beautiful surroundings, willing the Zen of the space to soak into my wobbly bones.
The suite is beautiful, like everything else in The Garden. Soft lighting from art deco sconces bathes the small sitting room in golden warmth. On the far wall, a rolling brass bar cart holds crystal decanters and glasses.
And then there are the French doors…
I can’t tell for sure, but I think there’s a bed on the other side of those doors—a bed that makes this meeting feel charged with exhilarating, terrifying possibilities.
But surely, we’re not going to do anything in that bed tonight. This meeting is just to see if the man Twyla selected feels like a good match. If the vibes aren’t right, we won’t even see each other’s faces.
I touch soft fingers to the black silk mask covering the top half of my face, the reminder that I’m partially hidden bolstering my resolve. I’m in disguise, in costume. I don’t have to be shy Maya from Maine during this meeting. I can be a confidant, sophisticated woman who knows exactly what she wants.
Or at least pretend to be one…
Suddenly, the door handle dips and the door swings open, sending my blood pressure skyrocketing all over again.
I start to stand, to extend a hand and murmur the appropriate pleasantries—even if I feel about ten seconds from passing out—but then he steps inside, and my knees turn to Jell-O.
It’s him.
The man by the fire.
Even with a black mask obscuring the upper half of his face, I know those broad shoulders and perfectly tailored suit on sight.
I gulp and try to think of something to say other than—“God, you’re like something straight out of my dirtiest, sexiest dreams.”—while he eases into the room with the grace of a man completely at home in his own skin.
But of course, he’s confident.
He’s gorgeous and tall and built like a Greek god. And he probably makes high six figures a year pleasuring women out of their minds. Thanks to Weaver, I’m getting a fifty-percent “friend of The Garden” discount. This beautiful, sex-panther of a man usually earns twenty thousand dollars a week.
But he’s agreed to devour me at a discount.
Devour…
He looks like he might gobble me up in one bite. His dark eyes are still intelligent, captivating, behind that mask, but they’re also…hungry.
He looks like he wants to strip me bare and carry me through the French doors to the bed lurking in the shadows.
Or maybe ravage me right here on the couch…
Before I can decide if the thought is daunting or delicious, he trips over the edge of the Persian rug, nearly falling before he pulls his big hands from the pockets of his suit pants and braces a palm on the wall.
“Damn,” he mutters with a soft laugh. “Well, that’s my two left feet for you. Hope you don’t want to go dancing.”
I grin, relief flooding through my chest. His voice is every bit as rumbly and perfect as I’d hoped it would be, and the self-effacing smile beneath his mask is…charming.
And sweet. And sexy.
And I think I just fell in love at first sight all over again.
“Don’t worry about it,” I assure him, standing with a nervous grin. “I’m a total klutz and haven’t danced since my friend’s bar mitzvah in junior high when I tripped on a chair and fell into the punch bowl.”
He laughs, warmth and compassion in the sound. “Poor pre-teen you.”
“Poor punch bowl,” I joke as I extend a hand, proud to see that my fingers are only trembling a little bit. “I’m Maya from Sea Breeze, Maine.”
“Anthony from New York City, New York.” His big hand closes around mine, making me feel small and electrified and alive in a way I never have before. By the time he gives my palm a gentle squeeze and releases it with a husky, “Pleasure to meet you, Maya,” my panties are damp.
If a simple handshake with this man is capable of arousing that kind of response, I’m a little scared to know what kissing him might do.
I’m also intrigued and eager and already certain that he’s the one. I’d tell Twyla to sign my name on the dotted line right now, but there’s no rush.
We have an entire half hour to get to know each other.
I already know it won’t be long enough. I’m ridiculously thirsty for more of his voice, his words, his touch…
He nods toward the bar cart. “Can I get you a drink? A glass of wine, maybe?”
I shake my head. “No, thank you. I can’t always be trusted with wine. It makes me say embarrassing things.”
He tilts his head to one side, making his thick hair fall deliciously over his forehead. “What sort of embarrassing things?”
I pull in a breath and exhale in a rush, “Well, last month I drank three glasses of chardonnay and asked my best friend’s boyfriend to help me hire a male escort. So…that was pretty embarrassing.”
He laughs again and the heat curling between my thighs burns a little brighter. “I don’t know. I don’t think that’s embarrassing. Sounds pretty brave to me. Especially for someone your age.”
I bite my lip, hoping my age isn’t going to be a problem. “Thank you. I’m twenty-four, by the way. I know I look younger, but that’s just the chubby cheeks.” I motion toward my face with a nervous laugh. “Not sure if you can see them beneath the mask. I inherited them from my mom. But she got carded until she was forty, so I guess they aren’t all bad.”
He shakes his head slowly. “Your cheeks aren’t chubby. They’re beautiful. And I um…” He glances down at the thick carpet before lifting a slightly sheepish gaze to mine. “I remember you. From the library. When you walked through the room, I…couldn’t look away.”
My heart is trampolining in my chest now, but I do my best to play it cool as I say, “I noticed you, too. You were reading Great Expectations, one of my favorites.”
He nods. “Mine, too. It’s a master class in character development.”
“And one of the best books about finding yourself and your place in the world that I’ve ever read,” I say, before adding in a softer voice, “the romance is pretty good, too.”
“It is,” he says with a smile. “I like romance.” He takes a step closer and then another, sending his clove and leather smell through my head. “I think a lot of men do. They’re just too indoctrinated to admit it. But love stories are important.” He lifts a shoulder and lets it fall. “I think we all want to live one. Even if we’re not brave enough to admit it.”
I fight the sigh rising in my chest.
God, this man is perfect. Almost…too perfect.
There has to be something wrong with him. If there isn’t, I’m not sure a mere mortal like myself is fit to be in his company, even if I am paying for the privilege.
“Tell me something embarrassing? About you?” I hear myself blurt out. I wince and smile as I explain, “Because so far, you seem like you have it all way too together.”
“Even after tripping on the way in?”
“But you recovered beautifully,” I counter. “It was very smooth.”
He inclines his head. “Well, thank you.” He exhales. “All right, something embarrassing…” His smile fades as he studies me with an intensity that further imperils my panties. “I can’t think of something offhand, but I want you to know… You don’t have to take this path if you don’t want to. You’re beautiful and intelligent and completely charming, Maya. I’m sure there are a hundred good men in this city who would be thrilled to take you on as many dates as you want, free of charge.”
I tell myself it’s a line he uses with all his clients.
I warn myself not to fall for it.
But in the end, I can’t help it. I believe him.
He just seems so sincere.
“But I don’t want a hundred other men,” I whisper. “I want you.”
It’s bold and ballsy and not at all like me, but I don’t regret the words for a second.
Especially when his gaze darkens and his voice comes out husky as he asks, “Are you sure?”
I nod, heart galloping as he eases even closer, until his body heat warms me through my dress and the look in his eyes makes my throat go tight.
“Don’t you think we should talk some more first?” He lifts a hand, brushing the hair from my forehead before letting his warm fingertips linger on my cheek, setting off tiny explosions of pleasure that make it even harder to breathe. “Or maybe something more than talk? I could be a terrible kisser.”
“You aren’t a terrible kisser,” I shoot back, not a trace of doubt in my tone.
His lips quirk as his arm slides around my waist. “I don’t think I am, but like so many things in life, kissing is subjective,” he murmurs, drawing me slowly closer.
Closer, closer, until the feel of my breasts flattening against his solid chest ignites a longing unlike anything I’ve felt in my entire life. I’m suddenly simmering, tingling, on fire from the soles of my feet to the tip of my nose, and so dizzy I’m pretty sure I would sag to the floor if his arm weren’t tight around me.
But it is, tight and strong, pinning me close as his mouth finds mine.
And then he kisses me, slow and easy, as his free hand glides up my bare back to fist in the hair at the nape of my neck. I cling to the front of his suit coat, meeting each stroke of his tongue with what I hope isn’t ridiculous enthusiasm, trying not to gasp as his other hand slips down to cup my ass.
He squeezes my curves as he pulls me closer, until I can feel the long hard length of him behind his fly.
He wants me. He really does!
This isn’t just a business arrangement. Or, if it is, it’s one it seems he’s going to enjoy.
Though I doubt he’ll enjoy it as much as I already am…
A small, hungry sound escapes my lips as I rock against his erection, my panties soaked. And then he growls low in his throat and lifts me into his arms, guiding my legs around his waist, and the integrity of my underwear is a thing of the past.
He presses me against the empty wall near the bar cart, angling his head as the kiss grows harder, deeper, causing the edges of our masks to press together. The reminder of how strange and forbidden all this is should bring me back to my senses, but it doesn’t.
I continue to cling to him like the last port in a storm as his lips blaze a path down my throat and his big hand cups my breast through my dress. His fingers tighten around my E cup, the curves that have always felt like too much fitting perfectly in his big hand, and the last of my doubt evaporates in the heat building between us.
I don’t care if this is wrong or crazy or the wildest thing I’ll ever do.
I want this man. I want him tonight and tomorrow night and every night I can get between now and when we go our separate ways.
“I think chemistry’s covered,” he murmurs when he finally pulls his lips from mine.
As he sets me back on my feet, we’re both breathing hard. He steadies me with a hand on my hip. I lean against the wall behind me, but keep my palms on his chest, marveling at the feel of his heart racing as fast as mine.
“I think so,” I murmur, meeting his hungry gaze. The look in his eyes promises he’s desperate to finish what we started, too, but I have to make sure. If we decide to do this, I have to know being with me is something he’s choosing because he wants it, not because he has to. “But if you need money for rent or food or a gambling debt or something, I could just loan it to you. Interest free. You don’t have to…you know. If you don’t want to.” My cheeks begin to burn, but I force myself to keep my eyes on his as I add, “I would never want to be in bed with someone who didn’t truly want to be there.”
His gaze softens with what almost looks like affection and his voice is gentle as he says, “You’re beautiful.”
“Thank you, but I’m serious, I—” I break off, my jaw dropping open as his fingers circle my wrist, guiding my hand to the front of his pants. I gulp at the feel of him still rock hard and hot beneath my palm, my cheeks blazing as he says, “I want you, Maya. I’ve wanted you since the moment I saw you walk across the library. I want you so much, it’s going to be hell to wait until tomorrow night to have you under me.”
Under him…
The words evoke a torrent of X-rated images that flood through my brain.
Holy hell, I want to be under him. I want it so much that my voice trembles and my knees threaten to return to their gelatin state as I whisper, “We don’t have to wait. If you…don’t want to.”
“You don’t know how tempting that is.” He releases my wrist with a ragged exhalation. “But I want you to be sure, too. Take the night, think about it, and if you still want this, want me…”
I pull my palm away from his long, thick length, curling my fingers into a fist in an effort to keep my hands to myself. “Then we’ll meet at the top of the Empire State Building?”
His lips curve. “I’m pretty sure it’s closed on Christmas Day, but I have a few tricks up my sleeve. Once you’re sure this is right for you, Twyla will give me your number, and I’ll text you to arrange a time and place to meet.” He pauses, that affectionate look in his eyes again as he adds, “I’ll be looking forward to it. You’ve saved me from spending the holidays alone.”
And he’s slowly saving me from the belief that I’m destined to die a lonely, untouched cat lady, surrounded by baskets of half-finished crochet projects, books, and furballs.
Don’t get me wrong, I’m perfectly happy to be a cat lady living my best cottage core life, but I’d like to believe that someday I’ll share that life with a sexy boy who loves cats and staying cozy on a Friday night as much as I do.
Or maybe a man who loves those things…
Anthony can never be that man, of course, but for the next week, he’ll be the closest thing I’ve ever had to a boyfriend.
I’m so excited, I can barely contain myself until he’s out of the room.
The second the door closes behind him, I let out a silent squeal of excitement and do a happy dance around the sofa, thrusting my arms and prancing like a quarterback who just scored a touchdown.
And no, I haven’t scored yet.
But with Anthony’s help, I’m pretty sure I’m going to…