TWO
FLOODED WITH GLORIOUS light, the wider hallway led all the way to the other side of the building.
“I… I haven’t shaved my legs today…” she stuttered. “Are we going to have sex?”
Discernment crossed his expression. “I don’t know… You got a major credit card?” Why did she keep saying insane things? Insane and insanely rude things? As she begged the ground to open and eat her, he released a laugh and smiled. “No sex, Little Skit… Let’s start with coffee.”
Going down the corridor, he stole several glances back, probably checking she hadn’t fled. Getting the hell out of there would be the smart course. Worth consideration—whoa, he had an ass on him. What the—where did that come from? She was not one of those people. God, she made herself sick.
After a few more feet, he stopped and gestured for her to go ahead of him up a set of stairs.
“Am I allowed upstairs?” she asked as they ascended.
He came to her side. “How else will we get to the bedrooms?”
The smile on his face suggested he hadn’t been offended by her stupid mouth. Could be he was a good actor. With her being a potential client, he probably couldn’t tell her even if she had.
“I’m sorry I propositioned you.”
“It’s my job to be propositioned,” he said. “If I’m not being propositioned, I’m not getting paid.”
Good point. “Still, you’re a human being.”
“Not a piece of meat?” he asked, opening a door when they got to the top of the stairs. “Women have put up with that a lot longer than men.”
He allowed her through first. This space wasn’t as fancy as the lower floor. Carpet was gray, walls white. Further down, he funneled her into a breakroom. With vending machines, a corner of kitchen units around a small island, and a dining table, this room wasn’t meant for entertaining clients.
Block couches and armchairs without arms were the only choice for sitting. The floor was a gray vinyl that must’ve been chosen for its functionality rather than its beauty.
“How do you take your coffee?” She hadn’t seen him move past her, but he was in the kitchen, poking at a huge shiny machine in the far corner. “It’s supposed to make lattes and cappuccinos, whatever you want.”
He didn’t sound confident he could get it to produce one, but he had his back to her, so she felt okay about smiling.
“Americano would be great,” she said, heading toward the island.
Twisting to peek over his shoulder at her, his eyes were narrow like that meant nothing to him.
She laughed and put a hand on one of the high stools to boost herself onto it. “Black,” she said. “Boring old black coffee works just fine.”
Relief crossed his face before he turned back to the machine. “Ah, a girl after my own heart,” he said, retrieving cups from an overhead cabinet. “That I can do.”
“Not confident in the kitchen?”
“I am confident everywhere.”
After he pressed a button, the machine sputtered to life. While it did its thing, he opened more cabinets, searching for something. Less than a minute later, the coffee dripped through. Once it was done, he switched out the cups, putting a second one in the first’s place.
He served her coffee first, then went back to fetch his own. He didn’t drink any, just put it on the island near hers without sitting down.
“What can you cook?” she asked, turning her cup to lift it by its handle while her other fingertips rested on the opposite rim. He raised his brows in question, she smiled. “You said you were confident in the kitchen, I wondered what you could cook.”
“Not a damn thing,” he said, slipping a hand into his pocket to pull out a bunch of coins. “But I’m good at faking it.”
His attention switched between his coins and the vending machine, so he missed the smile she couldn’t hide.
“I imagine you’d have to be,” she said, amusement bleeding into her tone. “In your line of work.”
Doing a double take her way, his mind caught up with his words, or hers. When his eyes stayed put, she laughed.
Clearing his throat didn’t disguise his smirk. “That’s not what I meant, Little Skit.”
“I think it is,” she said, sipping her coffee. “Unless you’re telling me you’ve been genuinely involved with every client you’ve ever had.”
“Of course I’m genuinely involved.”
Setting her cup aside, she sealed her lips. “Mm, of course you are.” Hopping off her stool, she opened her hand to him. “May I?” Glancing from his closed fist to her open palm, he turned his over to let the warm coins fall into her hand. “I never get to do this.”
“Do what?” he asked, watching her go to the vending machine.
“What number do you want?”
Simple things like vending machines were everyday to other people. To her, they were toys she’d never been allowed to play with as a child… or as a grown up. Whenever she could, she made up for that lost time.
“Uh…” he said, coming up behind her, so close she could feel his body heat against her back.
But he wasn’t done. Leaning over, he put a hand on top of the vending machine to peruse what was inside. Sandwiched between him and the machine, there wasn’t much room to move. Yet the narrow space wasn’t uncomfortable.
Odd.
Topping out at five two herself, she’d never been the tallest anywhere in her life. This guy had to be six three, maybe even six four. His height dwarfed her. And while he wasn’t built like a quarterback, there was breadth in his shoulders and a strength in his form that betrayed he took care of his physique.
In his line of work, he was probably required to stay in shape. Imagining what may be beneath his black slacks and gray shirt felt like a violation, so she fought to clear her mind, or more aptly, clean her mind.
“B6,” he said.
Having been so busy chastising herself for thinking about what was under his clothes, she almost forgot the task at hand. Blinking from her daze, she checked the price and scraped through the coins in her palm before slotting the right ones in and pressing the buttons.
Returning the remaining change to his hand without looking at him, the machine did its thing. The potato chips dropped into the well at the bottom. Delighted as a child, she dropped to a crouch to retrieve them, twisting while still down there to hold them up to him.
Her delight waned to something much more intense when their eyes met again. He didn’t move to take the chips, instead he searched her gaze for a few seconds before his attention slithered to her mouth.
“Tell me something about yourself, Little Skit,” he murmured, in that deep, intimate drawl he was so good at. “When was the last time you tasted a man?”
If any other person was so forward or indiscreet, she’d be offended, embarrassed even. Instead of her face flaming or her anger flaring, a different kind of heat seeped through her. From the depths of her gut, it simmered up within her, tormenting her curiosity and arousing her in a way she couldn’t recall experiencing in the past.
Before she could answer, he opened his hand to her. “Forgive me, that was crude.”
Sliding her hand into his, she let him draw her to her feet. Their hands stayed linked as he took hold of the chips.
Except Freya didn’t let them go. “Baer—”
“Coffee’s getting cold,” he said and turned around, forcing her to let go of the chips and him.
Being attracted to someone wasn’t a crime. True, it wasn’t usually her first thought on meeting someone new, but she did notice when a man was good-looking… though not usually on such an instinctive level.
“I should find my cousin,” she said, wishing she could use the vending machine for support.
Shame her breeding wouldn’t let her slump.
“To tell her you’ve changed your mind?” he asked, tossing the chips toward the couch that had its back to the kitchen. “Would you join me on the couch?”
Picking up both coffees from the island, he carried them across to where he’d tossed the chips and put them on the coffee table. Standing in front of the couch, he gestured to the seat.
“You’re polite,” she said, leaving the vending machine to go to him. “Respectful of women.”
“And you’re wondering if that’s upbringing or training,” he said. “Maybe it’s a little of both.”
Only once she was sitting did he do the same. He was quick to retrieve her coffee and put it in her hand.
“Is it against the rules to ask personal questions?”
“You can ask anything you like,” he said. “Just as I can… Our role is to make clients feel good… whatever that takes… whatever you need…” His arm rested along the low back of the couch; he raised a finger to brush the tip against her sleeve. “What is your name, Little Skit?”
“Freya,” she said. “Freya Dere.”
“This event that brought you and your cousin here. Will you tell me something about it?” he asked. Without answering, she examined him closer. He flashed another smile. “It’s talking. Just talking. No charge.”
This man could have a wife and kids, or a girlfriend… he could have a boyfriend… maybe he had several of each. Had she ever been so curious about a person and their life? His avoidance of her query about personal questions was practiced. This wasn’t the first time a client tried to get into his private life. She’d bet he made a point to keep the two separate.
It made sense. He had to date dozens, maybe hundreds of people a year. Some of them probably spent more time with him than others. Women, in general, liked to talk and bond more than men. A lot of his dates probably valued conversation. From what she’d seen so far, he was good at it. How many women fell for him while he was just doing his job?
Despite liking him, being attracted to him, this wasn’t real. It wasn’t a genuine interaction. Romance didn’t exist there. It was a business transaction.
Opening her mouth, she filled her lungs with air. “My cousin announced her engagement to a man the family don’t know and have never met. Her father, my uncle Ger, was ready to veto the whole thing and refuse his permission until Kelly, that’s the potential bride, convinced everyone to go away together. So we’re supposed to pack up and go on vacation to get to know this Nickson who wants to marry Kelly.”
“And you need a plus one.”
Gulping her coffee, she shook her head and made a noise of rejection. “Me? No, I don’t need a plus one. I do just fine without a man in my life… But, Holly, Kelly’s sister, she was with her fiancé for several years before she found out he’d been cheating on her… After the relationship ended, she…”
Stop talking.
She couldn’t, shouldn’t, reveal too much to a man who may have to play Holly’s love interest.
“Holly was embarrassed,” he said. “She was in an established relationship with her life on a certain course. She thought she was secure. And this man, the ex, he took it away from her… Then Kelly shows up with true love, the future Holly was supposed to have… What did Holly do? Make up a boyfriend?” Surprised, she blinked and her mouth fell open. He had to catch her coffee cup when her hand relaxed. “This is what I do, Little Skit… And, believe me, I’ve heard it all.”
She could believe it. Already she was beginning to trust him and they’d only known each other a few minutes. After a date with him, or two, or five, there wouldn’t be much a woman would keep to themselves.
“You do seem to know what you’re talking about. You must have been doing this for a long time… Downstairs, you sized me up in a minute.” He combined a humble shrug with putting her cup back on the table. “How did you know so much about me?”
“You told me you weren’t married,” he said. “The rest was just experience.”
“Experience?” she said, twisting more of herself toward him. “Don’t hold out on me. I’m a nervous client, remember? It’s not personal to tell me how you do your job.”
Ah, that glimmer of the dimple.
“Husbands invite other men into their wives’ beds for a number of reasons. Fiancés do it because they want to. Even if they say it’s for their future wife, it’s usually for them. Either because they want to enjoy the other man too or to see the other man enjoy their wife.”
“That happens?” she asked, restraining a squirm. “Other men ask you to…”
He nodded. “It has.”
“You didn’t ask if I had a boyfriend.”
“Boyfriends don’t hook their girlfriends up with escorts… If they want a threesome, they find a friend… probably wouldn’t occur to them to look for a male hooker.”
Something about his smile betrayed his memory.
“I’m really very sorry I called you that.” Mortified more like, devastated. “I’m not usually so rude. Quite the opposite.”
Though his experience wouldn’t jive with that claim.
“I’m not offended, Freya. You call things like you see them, I respect that. I don’t need someone to…”
This time when he trailed off, she sensed there was something more behind what he’d been about to say.
“What?” she asked, reaching over to curl her fingers around his hand. “What were you going to say?”
“Something else crude,” he said and exhaled a rough breath, driving his fingers into his hair. “Don’t know what’s wrong with me. I’m supposed to get the prep sheet before I cross lines like that with a client.”
Squeezing his hand, she pulled it just an inch down his thigh toward her. “Have you never worked without a prep sheet?”
His gaze grew heavier. “Sounds like you’re asking if I’ve ever seduced a woman.”
“No, just wondering if you would.”
“With a client? I wouldn’t. With a woman…”
On a smile, she lowered her chin. “Except I’m not a woman…” she said. His eyelid twitched in curiosity. “Not one you’re interested in pursuing…” Saying it aloud shifted her perspective. “Maybe this is a good idea… I’ve had so much trouble with men over the years… Maybe it’s time to face the reality that I can’t make relationships work. I’ve been with men, amazing men, some more amazing than others… It always ends the same, no matter how great or terrible they are…”
Shh, stop talking. Damming her streaming thoughts, she closed her mouth.
“There’s nothing you can’t get from Squires,” he said. “Anything at all that you want, you can get it here… You don’t have to worry about typical relationship issues. You’ll have a boyfriend trained to fulfill your needs and have none of his own.”
How unappealing. For a real relationship, which this wasn’t. Damnit, Freya. Why was it so difficult for her to remember that? Probably because she’d never interacted with a man in this kind of situation before.
“You never fight with clients?” she asked.
“I fight with clients.”
“About what?”
“Whatever they want.”
He fought with the clients who wanted him to fight with them, who paid him to fight with them. If women could request anything they wanted, they could ask him to be rough and tough and dominant. They could request him to be gentle and tender, to ridicule or praise them. No doubt he had the ability to be whatever a “prep sheet” told him to be.
Baer, if that was his real name, was whatever his clients requested. Who he truly was, both in himself and with women he really cared about, would remain a mystery to them all.
His smile, his mouth, the smooth line of his square jaw, fascinated her. She wanted to put her fingers on his cheek and run her thumb across his lips before leaning in and—
Leaping to her feet, electrified by audacity, she wanted to kiss him. She’d been thinking… This man she’d just met. This man who wasn’t here by choice. This man she knew nothing about.
“Freya,” he said, his fingers grazing hers as he rose to stand beside her. “What’s wrong? Did I say something to upset you? When I said fight—”
“You didn’t upset me,” she said. “I upset myself… I’m sorry, I have to leave.”
Before she could turn away, he caught her elbow and scooped a hand around her face. “Little Skit, what spooked you?” he asked, trying to bring her attention up though she resisted. “Look at me.”
Sensing he wouldn’t let her go, her gaze drifted to his. “We just met.”
“Yeah, and everything was going great. We were just talking. No harm in talking… What changed?”
“I was wondering what it would be like to… kiss you,” she said, disappointed in herself.
It was disrespectful, impudent, to build such a visceral fantasy so quickly.
The concern in his expression loosened.
After a couple of seconds, a smile curved his lips. “Only one way to find out,” he said, strengthening his hold. “May I?”
She might have nodded or made a sound of agreement. Honestly? She wasn’t sure. When he bowed, tipping her head back, and brushed his mouth over hers, everything else blanked.
After testing the texture of her lips, urgency grew in the gentle press. Asking for more, his insistence increased, the growing pressure begged her to open for him. Instinct demanded her jaw relax until his tongue touched hers and—then he was gone.