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

by Nina Strych

  “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.”

  Pushing aside the urge to brush his fingers against her breasts—so close, no more than an arm’s reach away—he said, “Well, there’s that trail we talked about. Also, they can charter us a boat if you’re feeling boat-ish again. Also snorkeling at that spot they recommended. The one from the book we both li
ked. Really, there’s plenty of choices. We’ve completely gone off the plans we made, so we might as well just pick what we want. What do you feel like?”

  Her martini glass covered legs shifted on the couch as she brought up both feet and tucked her toes into the gap between the cushions. She sipped, then said, “You feel like walking? I think I’d like to see the trail. They say the birds and the views are amazing. Maybe that trail to the petroglyphs?”

  That did sound good to him. As per his handler’s instructions, he’d brought good shoes for it. And he’d never seen anything like those petroglyphs. There was actually a lot on this island to explore. “Do you have boots?”

  She nodded and said, “I haven’t used them in a while, but I’ve got them. My little pack too.”

  He slapped his hands against his thighs and said, “Then let’s do that. I’ll go get ready and load up on supplies. Water and such. That okay?”

  “Perfect.”

  Twelve

  She was going to die. Amy was sure of that. Either from the heat or from the pain shooting up her legs from her feet. The trail was beautiful and the petroglyphs had been amazing, giving her the feeling that she was connecting to some past person intent on leaving their mark.

  But now she was going to die. And it might be from embarrassment.

  “I’m sorry,” she said, sinking down onto a stone by the side of the trail. She sighed, then groaned when the pressure of walking finally eased. She balanced her feet so that only her heels connected with the ground. The pain retreated, but left just enough of itself behind to make sure she knew what she would get if she tried to stand again.

  Mike rushed over and dropped his pack, kneeling in front of her. He wiped his forehead with his short sleeves and said, “Tell me what’s wrong.” He glanced over her, as if looking for her injury.

  Though it was hot and he was flushed from heat, he was otherwise entirely unaffected by the rigorous hike. It made her feel even more inadequate, but what had she been thinking in the first place? She knew better. After spending so many years indoors, her only exercise the yoga she made herself do twice a week, she was in no shape for a hike. Not her feet anyway.

  She choked back her humiliation and said, “My feet. It feels like knives when I step.”

  “Knives?” he said, glancing down at her feet and touching her ankle. “That’s not good.” He got a sort of speculative look and asked, “When’s the last time you actually wore these boots?”

  “It’s been a while,” she admitted.

  “How long a while?” he prodded, giving her a sympathetic look that made her want to cry even more.

  “A few years.”

  He sighed and leaned back, taking in the long sloping ground they would need to cross before they reached the car. He cupped her kneecap gently, which made her pain cross wires with the pleasure of his touch. She took in a long breath and leaned back on the rock, readying herself for what was no doubt going to be a long nightmare of hobbling back to the car. She wondered if taking off her shoes would make it better or worse.

  Mike gave her knee a quick squeeze and then smiled. “Good thing I’m an excellent pack horse. I’ll carry you.”

  She jerked her knee from under his hand and leaned even further back, horrified. “No, absolutely not.” She didn’t want him actually feeling the evidence of how many carb-filled breakfasts and lunches she’d had over the past years. The very idea was almost enough to give her hives.

  Plopping down on the ground at the base of her rock, he looked up at her and said, “Well, then we’ll just wait until you feel like going on. We can talk.”

  Oh god, that was even more horrifying. She would sit here and sweat while there was no one else around to provide any distraction at all. Sweat, stink, and be lame.

  None of this was good. Would being carried off the trail or hobbling along and sitting in the sun to sweat every ten steps be worse?

  “Are you sure you can carry me?” she asked. “I’m not exactly tiny.”

  His eyebrows rose and his eyes shifted downward, then slid right back up from her chest to her face, as if he knew he shouldn’t be looking in that direction. “I have no comment on that,” he said, then winked. Yeah, he totally knew she saw that. It was hard not to smile. He was so blatant!

  “I’m being serious,” she said, wiping the back of her neck where the heat was already making drops of moisture track down into her shirt.

  He spun a little on the ground so that he could face her and made as if to reach for her hand before pulling away. Amy could tell when he finally got it, that she was nervous and embarrassed. The smile fell away and his eyes grew darker as he looked at her. “You’re perfect as you are. And yes, I can carry you.”

  The intensity in his eyes, his voice, that little low growling hum underneath his words…it was all too much. Combined with the heat, she felt dizzy for a moment and gripped the rough stone of her make-shift seat to center herself. I’m okay and I will not faint like some girl in an historical novel with a too-tight corset.

  “Should I take my shoes off?” she asked, flexing her feet and feeling hints of that pain return.

  Mike shook his head, very serious again. “No, feet swell once you take them off if something is wrong, and you don’t want to walk back to your cottage in bare feet. Then again.”

  “What?”

  “If you want to give me your key when we get there, I can bring your sandals.”

  If she hadn’t been so hot and in so much pain, the idea of him having unfettered access to her room and the drawer full of her Marion-selected underthings would be too much. Instead, all she could think of was getting these boots off. And then burning them at the first opportunity.

  In a really, really big fire.

  Reaching down, she started unlacing her boots and said, “Best just to get it over with.”

  Mike laughed and unzipped his pack, holding out a hand for her boot. “I’m not complaining.”

  When she finally stood on the trail in her socks, she felt physically better, but when he held her hand so that she could stand on the rock, she was sure that death from mortification was imminent.

  Getting a piggy-back ride from a hot guy wasn’t something she’d done since college days playing drunk volleyball on the beach. And she’d been a tiny thing then. She slid her arms over his shoulders and then wrapped her legs around his back. His strong hands gripped each of her thighs and he said, “Perfect. I could get used to this.”

  He set off down the long sloping trail, eyes ahead of them and his steps steady and strong, their pack hanging off his chest so that he was double-burdened. The feel of him was exactly what she dreamt it would be. His shoulders were hard and with each step, she felt the flex and give of his muscles beneath her arms. It was hard to keep her hands still where they rested on his chest. The swell of his chest muscles and the shallow valley between them begged to be explored. Her thighs wanted to clench together of their own accord, his hands around her legs a point of heat that shot missiles of desire up her spine.

  If only she could turn him around and then—

  “How are you doing up there? You’re awfully quiet,” he said, breaking the vision apart. Which was a good thing. A very good thing.

  “Just enjoying the scenery,” she said, because that was true in a way. He was just the only scenery she happened to be looking at. “How are you doing down there? Do you need to rest and put me down?”

  He snorted at that and said, “We’re perfectly balanced like this. I’m good.”

  They were quiet for a while, and she sensed him tensing beneath her, his fingers spreading a little further apart on her legs as if he needed a better grip. She was too heavy for this. As they rounded the final curve and saw the car in the parking area a mere hundred yards away, she asked him again. This time, he said, “I’m sorry it’s over. I like the way your hair feels.”

  She’d been leaning close to him, her face almost cheek to cheek with his, and her hair was sliding along
his neck and shoulder. Could that simple thing be worth that much work? His hair was short, so maybe it was just a novel experience.

  He lowered her to the ground next to the car, not letting her weight fully onto her feet until she tested for a reaction. She felt like her feet might be bruised, but the knife feeling was gone and she sighed.

  “I’m okay,” she said, then added, “Physically anyway. I’m not sure I’ll ever get over having to be carried off a trail.”

  Mike laughed, but not at her, with her. The hair around his temples was damp from the heat and he looked delicious. Amy looked away, trying to focus on something that had zero sexual fantasy value, like maybe the car. Or her shoes.

  Tension crept up very suddenly, and almost before she knew it, Mike leaned forward. Nearly erasing the space between them, he whispered in her ear, “I enjoyed it. A lot.” As he pulled away, he brushed her cheek with his. It was quick—the lightest of touches—but the urge to reach out and pull him to her was almost more than she could tolerate and keep her composure.

  If this was what Barbara meant by relaxing, she had been way off base. Amy was the opposite of relaxed, but she was tense in an entirely new way. This was something she’d never felt before in her life. The charge at the base of her spine when he was near, the way her body wanted what it wanted…which was to be as close to Mike as she could get…all of it. It was overwhelming.

  She sucked in a deep breath and let herself be caught up in his eyes as he leaned back. Yes, this would be the time for a kiss.

  Except it wasn’t. This was not what she wanted him to think of her. Overheated, sweaty, her mouth dehydrated from the hot hike. Shaking her head, she pulled back and said, “I don’t think I should drive without shoes.”

  She dug the keys out of her pocket and held them out, not meeting his gaze because to do so would be to lose her self-control. Beyond here, there be dragons. Amy could no longer deny the simple truth. She wanted those perilous dragons that lay beyond the boundaries of what she knew. She wanted Mike.