The Agency

by D. J. Manly

  The Agency

  Book Four of the Amusing Amanda series

  D.J. Manly

  Published 2007

  ISBN 978-1-59578-351-6

  Published by Liquid Silver Books, imprint of Atlantic Bridge Publishing, 10509 Sedgegrass Dr, Indianapolis, Indiana 46235. Copyright © 2007, D.J. Manly. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, recording or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the author.

  Manufactured in the United States of America

  Liquid Silver Books

  http://LSbooks.com

  Email:

  raven@LSbooks.com

  Editor

  Lynne Anderson

  Cover Artist

  April Martinez

  This is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents and dialogues in this book are of the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is completely coincidental.

  Chapter One

  The man sitting on the velvet sofa gave Amanda what could only be interpreted as a snooty arrogant smile. With that thin smile, expensive suede coat, and three hundred dollar silk scarf, it was obvious he thought himself above most people. Hell, he probably also thought she had no business in this office—a place where men came to satisfy their deepest sexual cravings. After all, men were supposed to have the monopoly on getting exactly what they wanted sexually. Women were just supposed to lie there quietly and hope the men hit the right spot once in awhile.

  She had news for him. She had long ago lost her inhibitions when it came to getting exactly what she wanted. And she had the money. Why should men have all the fun?

  Suddenly Jacques Larose appeared. He glanced at the man. “Mr. Cook. Please forgive me for keeping you waiting. I had a…” He paused, his blue eyes widening as his gaze settled on the woman standing a few feet away. “Amanda?” he said, a slow smile deepening the lines at the sides of his mouth. “Amanda Martindale.”

  Amanda put down the fashion magazine she’d been leafing through, and closed the distance between herself and Larose.

  Mr. Cook made no secret of being perturbed by the interruption. “Mr. Larose,” he said haughtily. “I am in a hurry and…”

  “Of course,” he said in his charming French accent. All the while meeting Amanda’s eyes, he told the other man, “Please, Mr. Cook, step into my office. I’ll be but a minute.”

  Mr. Cook brushed past Jacques Larose, mumbling something under his breath, and Jacques held out his hand to Amanda. “How have you been, chérie?”

  “Fine,” she said, taking his hand in hers. “Just fine.”

  “I didn’t expect to see you again so soon. Is Chase still with you?”

  “With my brother.” When she saw his shocked expression, she laughed. “I was no competition, apparently.”

  He ran his eyes over her tight white linen suit and ruffled blue blouse. “Still beautiful. So you’re alone now?”

  “Yes.”

  “I’m sorry about Chase. I thought he’d stay, especially after the tragedy with Cassidy. And Scott, have you heard from him? I presume he…”

  “Water under the bridge.” She cut him off, not really wanting to get into that discussion. “My brother is happy, and at least”—she smirked…”we’ve kept it in the family. I keep reminding him that I had Chase first. Brings a whole new definition to sibling rivalry, don’t you think?”

  Larose cocked his handsome head; his hair was jet black, with only the slightest bit of grey at the temples. “Sometimes it’s hard to read you, Amanda.”

  She met his eyes. “Good. Being mysterious is sexy, n’est-ce pas?”

  “Yes,” he said, his face widening into a smile.

  “To be honest, I’m truly happy for Chase and my brother. Now, if you have some time, I would like to…”

  “D’accord,” he replied with a nod, glancing towards his office. “Just let me finish up with this client and I will be right with you. Shall I have the maid bring you something?”

  “No. I’m fine. Take your time. I’m in no hurry.”

  He patted her shoulder lightly and disappeared into his office.

  Amanda glanced around her. Not much had changed since the last time she’d come here. Beautiful originals by some of the masters hung on the wall, lush and sensuous. The chairs were fine grain leather. The latest fashion magazines were stacked on the designer coffee table. She had been given the grand tour of this place once by Jacques Larose himself. Larose had good instincts. He had known she would be a lucrative client. He’d wanted to make her feel special, although she was in fact quite sure that all his clients were subjected to the same red carpet treatment.

  Not many people knew about “The Agency.” It was strictly for the discriminating, the discreet, and the filthy rich. Publicly, Larose was known as an independent investor. He dabbled in this and that and played the market; indeed, he had plenty of disposable income. He was almost as rich as she was. This forty-five room mansion was his principal residence, but he had other, more exclusive, out of the way places as well, including a villa in the south of France she had been invited to, but hadn’t visited yet. The fact that Larose was constantly surrounded by beautiful men, and that in his Los Angeles home anywhere from six to ten of those men occupied several of the luxury bedrooms, made him either damn lucky or simply eccentric, depending on who was doing the talking. To the naïve, Larose was a multimillionaire with a variety of boy toys to cater to his every whim. To his clients, he was the most powerful upscale pimp in the business.

  It was here in this mansion she’d first laid eyes on Scott. And even though Larose had tried to talk her out of taking him home, saying he was better suited for a weekend party than as a permanent play toy, she had taken him anyway. In spite of the many “quirks” Larose had told her about, Scott hadn’t come cheap. In order to take Scott off his hands permanently, there had been a one-time fee, but Larose factored in not only what it cost to educate, groom, and house Scott, but the potential loss of income calculated on the man’s age and marketability.

  Amanda swallowed. He had been worth every penny. She still missed Scott, and now that Chase was gone as well, she felt her aloneness like never before. She sighed. The pastel colors in the painting before her suddenly swam in front of her eyes. She had almost come here a few times over the last months, but she’d hesitated, even though her own brother had been bothering her to find someone to be with.

  “Mandy,” Jordon had said on the phone just a few nights ago, “I want to see you happy. I don’t want to see you end up alone.” She appreciated his concern, but being with one man who told her what to do, whose needs she had to worry about and cater to, didn’t interest her. She didn’t give a damn if Jordon approved or not; her boys made her happy. She just wondered if she was ready to make the emotional investment again. Losing Scott had practically broken her heart, not to mention seeing Chase fall madly in love with her brother. Of course, she chose these men on purpose—men who desired other men. It was the risk she took.

  Suddenly the door to Larose’s office opened and the haughty man stalked out. He looked disgruntled. Larose placed a hand on the man’s shoulder as he ushered him through the glass doors of his office and out into the lobby. After a few words, the man disappeared.

  Larose raised his hands as he came back through the doors, reminding Amanda of how very French he was. “Some people,” he said with a sigh. “They are very hard to ah … accommodate. Come, Amanda,” he said, motioning her into his office.

  These gestures of his were quite charming really, as charming as the man himself. Fortyish, in excellent physical shape with a handsome face a
nd intoxicating dark blue eyes, she could almost imagine how he could get these beauties to do just about anything for him. She’d often wondered how many of them he’d actually fucked. She’d teased him about it over the years, but he would always laugh and say, “I never kiss and tell.”

  She took a seat opposite him now, putting down her handbag and crossing her legs. Larose poured them some very expensive red wine and sat back in his chair. He ran a hand through his thick black hair and smiled. “I am so happy to see you. Remind me when we met last, ma belle?”

  “Six months ago actually, at the fund raiser for the Children’s Foundation. Remember that horrible lobster?”

  “Ah, oui. Time flies,” he commented absently. “That is the expression, oui?”

  “Yes.” She nodded agreement.

  “What can I do for you, chérie? Fix you up for the night, a weekend? Would you like someone to accompany you on a beautiful voyage? Europe is beautiful this time of year. I know this lovely little…”

  “Jacques,” she interrupted, leaning forward. “I want another companion.”

  “Ah,” he said, sitting back, pursing his lips. He pressed his thumbs together. “Alors, I think I can make a few suggestions, mais …”

  “Can I see some photos?”

  He nodded. “Certainly.” He swirled the base around on his computer screen so that it faced her, then typed in some commands. “I have presently six here at the mansion, ah, no”—he shook his head…”sorry, five, five only, and another twenty or so scattered around Europe. If you’re willing to wait, I could…”

  “Show me who you have here first,” she told him. “Then we’ll consider Europe.” She knew of the exotic beauties that could be found over there. After all, she had found Ciel in France.

  “I keep only the finest of men…” he began, as a head shot of one young man came up, Malibu beach blond, blue eyes.

  “That’s why I’m here,” Amanda said, focusing on the screen, then shaking her head. “That won’t do. You have only head shots?”

  “I have, ah … more detailed photographs, but only hard copies. I don’t keep them on the computer.”

  Amanda looked him directly in the eye, pushing the screen back around. “Show me those, then. Head shots tell me nothing, Jacques.”

  Larose took a key out of the pocket of his Armani suit jacket. He unlocked the side drawer of his desk and took out a file folder, then slid it across the desk to her. Amanda placed her hand on it. “I will give you some time to look at them. I have a phone call to make. Please make yourself at home. I will be back in, say … a half hour? That should give you plenty of time.”

  “Merci beaucoup, Jacques,” she said with a smile.

  “Help yourself to another glass of wine.” He stood and indicated the crystal decanter on the sideboard with a sweep of his elegant hand.

  “I will. Delicious.” She lifted the glass to her lips and took another sip. “1984 Burgundy?”

  “Bravo.” He clapped his hands. “Precisely. Enjoy.” He issued her a slow wink, and walked out, closing the door softly behind him.

  Amanda took out the first glossy photograph. It showed a completely naked man lying on a bed with silver satin sheets. Umm. Delicious body, although a little too muscle-bound for her taste. Nice face, but no softness there. It was almost too masculine. The blue eyes looked empty. Though he was handsome, she couldn’t see the beauty. She put it aside and checked out the second photo. Black, tall, intense eyes. That beautiful ebony skin was intoxicating, not to mention the wavy washboard stomach. He stood against a wall, looking aloof. Too damned aloof. He knew he was gorgeous. That wouldn’t do. The third didn’t appeal at all. Too much of a muscle-bound beach bum for her; they were a dime a dozen in California.

  The fourth picture she withdrew made her hesitate before she tossed it aside. He was fair-haired with iridescent light blue eyes. His body was delicate, but with enough muscle tone to save him from being skinny. His features were soft. God, he was delicate … so pretty. She couldn’t stop looking at him. He was mesmerizing. He had a great cock. It was thick and long, not the kind of cock you’d expect to find on someone so slender and fine-boned. He was definitely worth a second look. The final picture was of a young Asian. He was handsome, but there was no fire in his eyes, no passion.

  She was just about to close the folder when something fluttered to the floor. As she bent down to retrieve it, she realized that it was a small black and white photograph, like a snapshot taken in one of those ubiquitous do-it-yourself photo booths. When she brought it up into the light, Amanda caught her breath. It wasn’t a very good picture. It was creased and stained, but that couldn’t detract from the fact that the face in the picture gripped her like none other she’d ever seen. The eyes looking at that crude camera in the photo booth were filled with fire and defiance. There was no cocky “look at me, aren’t I gorgeous” look. Instead, there was an “I can take whatever you got, baby” kind of self-assurance. It was male, it was sexy, and it immediately made her hot. Here was that male beauty she was always looking for, the kind with this dark, dangerous fire that permeated dark eyes and the masculine features which carried just enough of a soft edge to be sensuous. The skin color was reminiscent of her Scott. It wasn’t Black, but it wasn’t white either. He was definitely biracial—White with the other half being either Hispanic or Black. There was some of Ciel in his eyes, and even a bit of Chase’s vulnerability around the mouth. She had no idea what his body looked like, but she sure as hell intended to find out.

  When Jacques came back into the office more than thirty minutes later, Amanda was still studying that photograph. “See anything you like?” he inquired, raising an eyebrow.

  Amanda didn’t give him time to sit down. She passed him the photo. “Who is he?”

  Jacques took the picture. “He’s not available.”

  “I didn’t ask you if he was available. I asked you who he was.”

  “Hunter Reese.”

  “Hunter. Suits him. Why isn’t there a decent picture of him?”

  Jacques walked around to his desk and sat down. He kept the photograph. “He’s a … problem.”

  Amanda laughed. “Really? How so?”

  “He’s, ah … well, he wouldn’t suit you.”

  “How do you know?” she asked curiously.

  “I see you kept that one out.” Jacques inclined his head towards the picture Amanda had laid aside.

  Amanda narrowed her eyes. “Don’t try to distract me, Jacques. You know that won’t work. Why all the mystery around Hunter Reese?”

  “No mystery.” He shrugged. “He’s not ready for…”

  “You don’t want to lose him just yet,” she said, leaning back in the chair.

  He gestured with his hand. Amanda waited for an answer. Jacques took his time, picking up the decanter of wine and refilling her glass.

  “I want to see him,” she said suddenly.

  Jacques sat the decanter back on the sideboard. “Amanda,” he replied, meeting her eyes, “trust me. He’s not a good candidate. That picture wasn’t even supposed to be in there.”

  “All the more reason. Then I consider it fate. You know I love a challenge, and no price is too high.” She stood up. “Send him to me, and I will pay double the usual rate for one night.”

  Jacques rubbed his chin.

  She narrowed her eyes. “Triple.”

  “It isn’t the price.”

  “Then what?”

  “He’s trouble, Amanda.”

  “That’s what you told me about Scott.”

  “Hunter is not Scott. If I do decide to send him to you, it will be just for one night. You can’t keep him.”

  “I thought you said that was up to the boys.”

  “It is,” he acknowledged. “They are not enslaved to me. If they like your proposal and I get a decent return on my investment, they are completely free to choose. Did I stand in the way of Scott, or Cassidy and Chase?”

  “What is it about Mr. Rees
e?” She met his eyes, ignoring his question.

  “I prefer not to go into that at the moment,” he said.

  “We’ll start with one night then. When should I expect him?”

  “I really don’t advise it.”

  She gave him a faint smile. “I’m not really good at taking advice from men, but your advice is duly noted, Jacques. If it doesn’t work out, I won’t hold it against you. When will you send him?”

  “When do you want him?” He actually sighed.

  “Tomorrow night, nine o’clock.” She opened her handbag and drew out her checkbook.

  “I’ll check to see if he’s available.”

  “Make sure he’s available. For what I’m paying you, someone else can wait.”

  Jacques inclined his head.

  Amanda glanced at the other picture she had laid out on the desk, then clicked her pen. “Send him along too.” She could suddenly imagine the two of them together and she unconsciously licked her lips.

  Larose stood up. “You want Reese to come with him?”

  “Yes. What’s his name?” Amanda asked, leaning over the desk to fill out the check.

  “Ramsay.”

  “Just Ramsay?”

  Jacques smiled.

  “He is of age, isn’t he? He looks so young.”

  “Of course. Nineteen.”

  “Okay. How old is Reese?”

  “Twenty-two, but Amanda, may I suggest to you that…” He began to paw through the photos.

  She paused in her writing and glanced up at him. “Is there a reason Ramsay and Hunter shouldn’t come together?”

  He shrugged. “It’s just that I could recommend someone else more suitable to come with Ramsay tomorrow night.”

  “For Christ’s sakes, Jacques,” she snapped, standing up straight now. “Come out with it! What’s wrong with this guy?”

  “He’s a little rough trade, that’s all.” Jacques held the folder between his fingers now.

  Amanda signed the check and ripped it off the booklet. She handed it to him. “Three times the price, times two.”

  Jacques took the check and nodded.

  “Jacques, there’s nothing wrong with a little rough trade,” she said, picking up her bag again and taking out her cell phone. “I like it.” She called her limo, then held out her hand to him. “I’ll be in touch.”