“Don’t worry, I’ll leave the boy alone,” Merlin said, downing the last of his champagne. “He doesn’t have to worry about me. Have a nice night.”
The words lingered after Merlin walked away like smoke thick enough to choke on.
Cal moved back to Owen eventually but at a slow pace to gather his walls and not make it too obvious how much Merlin had shaken him. He must have failed, though, because Owen leaned over and whispered, “You okay?”
“Not a nice man,” Cal whispered back, “but harmless. Forget him. I want you to enjoy tonight.” He hoped he was right about Merlin, but now wasn’t the time to worry.
Owen, for his part, nodded to appease Cal but betrayed a shadow of concern.
“So….” The taller of the couple Owen had been chatting with smiled. “Owen’s publicist?”
The rest of the evening continued as if there hadn’t been a single hiccup. Cal didn’t spot Merlin in the crowd again, but he itched to whisk Owen away, fearing now more than ever that enemies waited in the wings.
There was more champagne and cocktails and food. Owen donated a respectable amount to the cause. They stuck close to Frank and Paul from then on, which was just as well. Eventually when things started to wind down, Cal and Owen snuck outside to find a cab without making a big deal over their departure.
Owen rested his head against Cal’s shoulder during the ride back to his apartment. The night had taken its toll. Cal thrived off being the center of attention, but for Owen it was draining. And both of them had been drained by sinister men lately.
It was a relief to shed their glasses and their suits, to crawl into bed and snuggle like a normal, real couple. It wasn’t real. It wasn’t a date—it was Cal’s job. But it plagued him how much he wished that could be different.
“Thank for you tonight,” Owen said, though he’d thanked Cal plenty already.
“My pleasure, Owen. Any time.”
“How long can you stay tomorrow?”
“How long do you want me?”
The pause made Cal wonder what Owen wanted to say. “We can get breakfast? Then I should do some work before lunch.”
“Whatever you need.”
Cal had taken Owen on as a client to help them both with their needs, but what he wanted now was getting harder to deny.
OWEN woke the next morning sluggish but content to find a familiar face in his bed and strong arms around him. When Cal blinked awake as well, blue eyes hypnotic and so kind, Owen recalled the question from last night.
“How long do you want me?”
It wounded him that he could never tell Cal the truth.
Chapter Six
DEPLOYING the new police program felt like sending a child off to school for the first time. Owen was protective, nervous, and constantly checking in to make sure everything was going smoothly.
To some extent, it was out of his hands now. Models needed to take in live data to be adjusted, so nothing could be done until a few weeks went by with the boys in blue out in the field. Then, as real-world situations played out, his team could reevaluate and shift officer deployment accordingly, especially if crime went down in one area because more police were around, but then increased in others because the criminals changed course.
Which was what Owen expected to happen. It would be a constantly moving target that his models were built to adjust for automatically. Someone just needed to be paying attention to react.
There were a few protests around racial and class targeting the first week, which Wesley headed off by further explaining the training and equipment given out to ensure that didn’t happen. If it ever started to look like any one group was being singled out, he would personally take responsibility for putting a stop to it. There was even a hotline for people to report abuses.
The initial calls were false alarms or pranks, but taking the extra precautions added credibility and accountability to the program. Things were looking good; the officers were doing their jobs. Now what mattered was if the program worked and overall crime started to decline.
Because of the program’s release, Owen was that much busier in the weeks following the fundraiser with events and interviews, along with his side project between Nye Industries and Walker Tech. Sometimes he asked Cal to be his publicist date or to assist with actual publicist tasks, and sometimes they had quiet evenings in, but regardless of the nature of their time together, Owen kept adding more appointments for Cal’s company, even if just to have him there when he got home at night.
The messages from Harrison had stopped, but every time Owen’s phone chimed or he checked his email, he wondered when the eye of the hurricane would be over and the storm would start anew—one he couldn’t sit back and enjoy, but that would shake him to his core like being struck by lightning.
The one benefit to it all was that his training with Lorelei had surpassed several more learning curves.
“Hey, Owen! Still on for this week?” Frank caught him in the hallway on his way to—actually, he had to stop and think if he was going to Walker Tech next, city hall, or just the bathroom. His life never seemed to slow down anymore.
“Of course!” Owen said, remembering he was having friends over for a game night, finally taking Frank up on his offer from when he first started this adventure. “I can’t believe everyone agreed on Greek. I’ve been wanting to order from that place down the street from my apartment for weeks.”
“Awesome!” Frank said. “Will Cal be there too?”
“Oh….” Owen clammed up, still caught off guard whenever someone asked about Cal, though of course they would when he rarely attended an event without the other man’s presence. “I don’t know if that would be… appropriate?”
The truth was, Owen wanted nothing more than to invite Cal, but it was different from a normal night in or a busy night out that fit into Cal’s “services.” It felt wrong to pay him for something that Owen ultimately only wanted him to attend if he wanted to be there.
Cal was a good friend, but the flow of money between them tainted the whole thing even though Owen knew it shouldn’t. He shouldn’t expect Cal to shun him if the business side of their relationship wasn’t involved. Cal wasn’t like that. And Owen would never take advantage or expect things from Cal should they become just friends someday.
But that was the problem. Where did the lines cross? What was acceptable and what wasn’t when money played such an important role in their relationship? Owen could figure out complicated equations all day long, but that problem he hadn’t solved yet.
“Because he’s your publicist?” Frank asked with a waggled eyebrow. “Or because he’s your Julia Roberts?”
Owen’s eyes widened, mouth agape, unsure how to respond other than blurting, “How did you know that?”
“I’m a statistician,” Frank said, not at all antagonistic. “I did the math. I’m the one who saw you with that business card, remember? Plus, I also remember him from the Nick of Time catalog. Nice choice. I won’t say anything!” he added, no doubt reading the sheer terror on Owen’s face. “It’s cool. I told you I wouldn’t judge about the escort thing, and I meant it. He’s been escorting you. That’s what they do. Anyone can tell you’re not sleeping together. Not that there’d be anything wrong if you were! I mean, aside from legally….”
“I… really? It’s that obvious?” Which was what Owen wanted. He didn’t want people thinking he was sleeping with his publicist, taking advantage of him like a creepy executive, but at the same time, “How obvious, because—”
“You could cut the UST with a butter knife.”
“UST?”
“Unresolved sexual tension,” Frank rattled off as if that were common knowledge—maybe it was; Owen was never in the loop on these things. “If you were sleeping together, that would have been resolved weeks ago. You want it to, though, right? Resolve.” He waggled an eyebrow again. “He means something to you, I can tell, and not just because he makes an amazing publicist and looks good in a suit. Mayb
e he is your Pretty Woman. Uhh…. Pretty Man? American Gigolo?”
“Stop,” Owen interrupted before Frank could rattle off any more movie titles. “Things don’t happen like that in real life.” No matter how much Owen might want them to. “It’s messy and complicated and not a movie plot. I need to stop relying on Cal to feel comfortable.” Despite not having the will or desire to let him go.
“Relying on him?” Frank repeated with exaggerated disbelief. “You’re kicking ass, Owen, or haven’t you been paying attention? You. With Cal and when he’s not around. He might have helped you get through a tough transition in your life, but you’re doing fine. Maybe you honestly just like him. Would that be so terrible?”
If Cal didn’t feel the same way, Owen couldn’t imagine anything worse.
“Hey.” Frank grabbed his shoulder as if just then realizing how shell-shocked he was. “I’m prying and causing the Owen.exe program to reboot. You wanna grab lunch and pretend I wasn’t being invasive of your personal life? I feel like we need some boyfriends time.”
“…what?” Owen took a moment to process that—Owen.exe reboot indeed.
“Yeah…,” Frank said, drawing out the vowels. “That didn’t translate as well as when women say ‘girlfriends time,’ did it? Bro time? There we go.” He snapped his fingers. “Bro lunch, Owen?”
Owen chuckled helplessly. Frank had a knack for making him feel scrambled and then put back together in minutes. That’s what he needed to do right now. Eat. “Bro lunch. Thanks, Frank. That sounds perfect. And it’s okay to pry into my personal life sometimes. If I didn’t have good friends who did that sort of thing, I probably wouldn’t have a personal life,” he joked—a little too seriously.
“Good. Not that last part, I mean….” Frank shook his head at his own foot-in-mouth syndrome. “I’m glad you see me as a friend. Come on. Let’s go eat.”
It had been easy to let things continue on their natural course with Cal, especially to further banish how Harrison made Owen feel. But something had to give soon, and Owen wasn’t sure what that was. He just knew he liked having Cal around even when he didn’t need him.
CAL sat at his computer desk by the window, staring at his calendar and just how much of it was taken up by Scarlet. That’s what he’d wanted. That’s what he still wanted. But what if he was holding Owen back from moving on with his life and truly healing?
There had always been the expectation that this was more temporary than Cal’s other regulars, but whenever he thought Owen might call things off, another evening got booked.
Cal wasn’t oblivious to being a stand-in for Owen’s ex, a replacement that could fulfill needs Harrison had neglected. That didn’t mean he wasn’t valued in Owen’s eyes as just him. He never worried about that; Owen wasn’t like that. What Cal worried about was whether this was healthy or the absolute worst thing for Owen right now.
Maybe it was the worst thing for him too, given how often his thoughts strayed to Owen.
Claire’s name blinked at him from his cell phone.
“Someone’s been busy,” he greeted.
“Look who’s talking. You’re allowed to initiate calls too, ya know.”
“I’ve had a full schedule lately. How ya been, sis?”
“Thankful for Impulse. It’s my new favorite spot. The drinks are to die for. Fantastic food too. If I’m five pounds heavier next time you’re in town, it’s all your fault.”
Cal chuckled. He and his sister shared the same tricky metabolism of putting on and taking off weight at the drop of a hat, which might seem like a blessing on the losing side, but the gaining part could be annoying. In Cal’s line of work, that meant constant upkeep.
“Did you meet the owner?” he asked, genuinely curious. “Usually works the bar?”
“Maybe. Cute blond guy? Or dark-skinned knockout?”
“Both technically. They’re married.”
“Well that’s just unfair,” Claire snorted. “Haven’t been up at the bar as much as the dining area, but they seem nice. How do you know them?”
“I don’t,” Cal said, recognizing the hole he’d walked into. “Just heard about the place from a friend.”
“Calvin, you don’t have friends.”
“I have—”
“Rhys and Lara, I know. Ever think of expanding?”
Cal had more friends than Rhys and Lara. Didn’t he? Maybe he only had clients. Owen was a friend, but would they still be friends when their business relationship ended?
“Like I said, full schedule lately.” He tried to dismiss the topic.
“Mmm,” Claire hummed.
“What now? Think I sound listless again?”
“No. Now you sound conflicted, like you’ve found what your listlessness proved you were missing but don’t know what to do with it. Calvin,” she said with sudden enthusiasm, “did you meet your Richard Gere and not tell me?”
“Why does my line of work always come with Pretty Woman correlations?” he groaned.
“Gee, I can’t imagine.”
“He’s not some savior I need to rescue me from my life. I love my life.”
“Yet you just admitted there’s a specific he.”
Crap.
“Calvin. You fell in love with a client!”
“I’m not in lo—”
“And it’s got you freaking out because you figure he’ll only see your worth in dollar signs.”
Cal’s stomach dropped. He wasn’t in love with Owen. That was juvenile, ridiculous. He just… enjoyed Owen’s company more than anyone else’s.
“He’s not like that,” he said, rather than deny Claire’s accusations. Owen didn’t see Cal’s worth in any bottom line, but money was still part of the problem, because it permeated every interaction they’d ever had. Changing the nature of their relationship now would throw things off, make seeing each other awkward in ways Cal couldn’t stomach. It was easier to leave things be.
“Then what is he like?” Claire asked without the tease. “Tell me.”
Maybe Cal had been avoiding initiating calls to his sister because he knew this would come up, and he hadn’t been ready to share Owen with her yet. It was different with Rhys. They always talked shop and exchanged client stories, but that had dwindled lately too, from both of them. Telling Claire about his work was distasteful anyway, but this wasn’t pillow talk—this was Owen.
Cal found it surprisingly easy to describe the young man and reminisce about the evenings they’d spent together, not hiding that sex wasn’t part of the workload. It was companionship. Support. Not love. Cal wasn’t in love. Love was too dangerous.
“You broke rule number one, Cal. You’re dating a client.”
“We’re not dating.”
“He may be paying you, but what you’re doing is dating. Just without the fun bits at the end of the night.” She snickered.
The weird thing was, Cal didn’t miss the “fun bits” when he was with Owen. He thought about them, craved the kid in ways that ached, but their talks and dinners, their nights spent listening to Sinatra or surfing sci-fi movies on Netflix, were more fulfilling than the short-lived pleasures his other clients gave him.
Cal wished he could have both, but he didn’t think that existed for him.
“He’s had it rough, Claire. He needs something… more than me.”
“Calvin,” she said with a touch of sadness. “What if, for once, just once, you realized you could be enough for someone? At least give this guy the benefit of the doubt. I’ve never heard you talk about someone like you describe him. He sounds perfect for you. The same boring old man deep down and a giant dork.”
Cal glared at his reflection in the nearby window. “Thanks for that.”
Claire giggled. “In reality, he does sound young, but I won’t judge a little cradle robbing if he makes you happy.”
Glancing at the clock on his computer screen, Cal realized that if he didn’t start getting ready, he’d be late. He was never late with clients. “I have to
go. My work day starts when yours ends, remember?”
“Fine. But if you’re seeing him tonight, maybe suck it up and go after what you really want. You know I’ve never looked down on your profession.” She turned serious again. “People can do whatever they want with their bodies as long as they enjoy themselves. If they can make money on it too, well, more power to ’em. But if what you want changes, you are allowed to pursue something new, even if it’s terrifying.
“I thought you were a gambling man, big brother. It’s not a gamble if it isn’t a risk.”
Cal had said that phrase to her countless times, usually when she doubted herself before making a big decision. She always rolled her eyes at him, even if ultimately, she thanked him for the push.
He wasn’t sure if he was as brave as her in the end, but her words followed him that night all the way to a familiar apartment door.
When the young, bespectacled brunet answered his knock, Cal poured all of his desire and frustration into a desperate lunge forward, claiming pliant lips before any words could be spoken. Grasping hands twisted into his shirt, a surprised mouth opening after the initial shock with pleased whimpers, their tongues sliding past each other smooth and wet.
This was what Cal wanted. Touch that connected deeper than skin contact, enough to feel the warm body against him heat up further the longer they kissed and writhed in time to the shudders pulsing between them. It was exhilarating, electric, and so good.
Cal just wished the lips he was kissing were Owen’s.
“Someone’s eager,” Piper husked like a roughened purr. He was shorter than Owen by almost half a foot, eyes brown and body more filled out than Owen’s slender frame, but there were similarities that made it easy to pretend. “I like it.”
“I missed you,” Cal said, grazing his teeth along Piper’s jaw and kicking the door closed behind him as he pawed at his prey just the way he knew Piper liked it. “Can’t wait to get my mouth on you.”
A Model Escort Page 10
