“Goodbye, Gabriel.”
“I’m just asking—”
Ben hung up before he heard the rest of Gabe’s sentence. But he couldn’t resist the rumble of laughter that passed through him. Despite his antics, Gabe had made a good point. Ben would need to get to know Ryan better if they were going to fool his family. He hoped Ryan would be up for it. With only one way to find out, he scrolled to her number.
Chapter Seven
Ben opened the door to The Brass House and waited for Ryan to step inside. The air conditioning and dim lighting were a welcome change from the thick June air. Since Ryan didn’t want Ben to see where she lived, she’d walked the mile and a half to meet him at the intimate jazz club that she never even knew existed until Ben had suggested they meet there. No way she was going to spend money on a cab when she had legs.
“Thanks for meeting me,” he said. “I figured if we’re going to pull this whole ‘relationship’ off, I should start getting to know you as soon as possible.”
When Ben had called and asked if she’d like to go out to get to know each other, money had been the furthest thing from her mind. So when he asked whether she’d like to be paid at the end of the night for the time they spent together or have it be tacked on to the total, she was caught off guard. The fact that she wanted to see him again had almost made her forget that he’d need to pay her for it. Though she wasn’t exactly sure why it surprised her. They weren’t involved romantically. They weren’t even technically friends. They were simply involved in a business arrangement that would ultimately serve both of their needs.
As Ryan took in the way his gray Henley stretched across his broad chest and muscular biceps, she began to think of other needs that Ben could fill and whether that would constitute a conflict of interest. “That’s probably a good idea. I don’t know anything about you either.”
“Untrue,” Ben said. “You know tons of things about me already.”
Ryan tried to imagine what those things might be, but she came up blank. “Like what?”
“I play hockey and I’m from Connecticut . . . and my brother, who you know I don’t get along with, is getting married in July.” He thought for a moment as they headed toward a small round table off to the side. “This okay?” he asked.
“It’s great.”
She reached for her chair so she could take a seat, but Ben pulled it out before she could get a hand on it. “Oh, and now you know I like jazz,” Ben said, taking a seat across from her.
Then he took out an envelope and handed it to her. “Before I forget . . .”
It took Ryan longer than it should have to realize that the envelope probably had cash inside. When she still didn’t reach her hand up to take it, Ben placed it down in front of her. “I read online that the payment is handled first, so I wanted to get it out of the way. It has the money for tonight and half of the money for the wedding, like we discussed.”
“Oh, right,” she said, sliding the envelope off the table and into her purse.
“Do you need to count it or anything?”
“No,” she replied quickly. “I trust you.”
“Isn’t that dangerous in your line of work? Trusting people? You barely know me.” Ben laughed, but there was truth to his words.
“Didn’t you just get done telling me about all the stuff I know about you?”
Ben’s smile let her know she’d won that round.
Ryan pulled her chair closer to the table and picked up the drink menu even though she knew she wouldn’t be needing it. “I guess I do know more about you than I realized.”
“Told you. But all I know about you is that you’re an escort and you like eggs.”
So you know one thing. “Yup, I’m an egg-loving escort,” she said, causing them both to laugh. “So what do you want to know?” She put the drink menu down and, resting her elbow on the table, propped her head on her hand.
“For starters, I want to know what you’d like to drink because the waitress is about to take our orders.” He nodded to the tall blond woman who was approaching their table.
Ryan ordered a water with lemon, and Ben ordered a beer and some sort of soft pretzel appetizer for them.
“You don’t know if I like soft pretzels,” Ryan said, teasing him.
Ben raised an eyebrow. “Everyone likes soft pretzels.”
“Not me.”
“Are you serious?” Ben’s expression looked like she’d told him she’d dated Jared from the Subway commercials.
“No, I’m not serious. Who doesn’t like soft pretzels?”
“That’s what I’m saying,” he said in mock exasperation.
Ryan settled back into her chair and looked at Ben. “So what else do you want to know?”
“Hang on and I’ll tell you.” Ben reached into his pocket and pulled out a folded piece of paper.
“You have a list?”
“Yeah,” he said, as if it were totally normal to interrogate someone during a date. Though she knew this didn’t technically count as a date.
“Okay, quiz me.”
“Well, it’s not really a quiz. There’s no right answer, and it’s about you so—”
“Are you always this . . . precise?”
Ben stared at her. “Yes.”
“Good to know,” Ryan said with a nod.
“Okay, you ready?”
She nodded again.
“First question: What’s your zodiac sign?”
“That’s your first question?”
“Yeah. Why? Is that weird?”
“A little.”
“It’s the quickest way to find out what type of personality you have.”
“You seriously believe in all that?”
“Yeah. My birthday’s January eighteenth. Capricorn fits me perfectly. Practical, disciplined, ambitious.” He leaned back to let the waitress put down their drinks, and when she left, he spoke again, probably noticing Ryan’s skeptical look. “What?”
She shrugged. She didn’t want to insult something Ben seemed so sure about, but she’d never really believed in astrology. “I don’t know. I never put much stock in that stuff. I guess I just believe that I decide who I am, not the placement of the stars or whatever. It’s like going to a psychic. Your personality can probably fit any of the signs if you want it to.”
“That’s totally untrue. Watch. Tell me your sign.”
Ryan sighed but answered, “Cancer. And before you go bragging that knowing my sign must mean I believe in it, I should tell you I only know it because my mom used to read me my horoscope in the paper and then use whatever my lucky numbers were to play the lottery.”
Ben raised an eyebrow. “She ever win anything?”
“Not that I know of.” Which only further proved that astrology was a load of shit. But Ryan knew enough to keep that comment to herself. Maybe she was getting better at this censoring thing.
He looked down at his phone and typed in a few things before looking up again. “Cancer,” he said. “Meticulous, reliable, perfectionistic—”
“I’m none of those things,” Ryan said, happy she’d been right.
“Good because those are Virgo traits. I said them to mess with you.” Ben laughed before continuing. “It says you’re sensitive, intuitive, moody at times, and free.”
Shit. “Well, I’m definitely not free. You’re paying five grand for me.”
Ben looked up from his phone, his expression serious. “I’m not paying for you. I’m paying for your time—which we should probably discuss so we can determine your availability.”
The waitress set their pretzels down and asked if there was anything else they needed. Ben looked to Ryan, who gave her a polite, “I think we’re fine.”
When the server left, Ryan ripped off a piece of the pretzel and dipped it in mustard.
“What do you mean?” she asked, though she was far from disappointed that more of her time might be spent with the handsome almost stranger sitting across from her.
“I can’t lea
rn everything I need to know about you in one night, and you need to get to know me also. So, I’m thinking we’ll need to spend a good bit of time together.”
“How much time were you thinking?” Ryan did her best to seem like she was contemplating the impact that this commitment would have on her life, but she wasn’t sure if she was at all convincing.
“I’d probably need you to dedicate a few days per week until the wedding. Would seven hundred dollars a day cover it? Rather than worrying about counting hours?” he asked with a smile.
Ryan tried to act like she was used to this sort of thing—gorgeous men taking her out and offering to buy her time. She hoped her expression didn’t betray her. Seven hundred dollars times however many days Ben would need her to devote to him would probably end up being more money than she’d seen in all of last year.
“If it’s not enough, tell me what is. I know I’m asking a lot of you.”
“Seven hundred a day is fine. And don’t worry about the time. It’s all part of the job,” she said, realizing that her shock had kept her quiet for a little too long.
“Good,” he said. Despite the serious nod that accompanied his response, she could see the relief that spread through him when his shoulders relaxed a bit. He’d clearly been worried that she’d be opposed to it. “I’ll have to take a look at my schedule and then we can work something out around your obligations with other clients.”
Since she was pretty sure Ben would be her only client ever, she said, “Oh, other clients. Yeah, well usually I would have others, but um, I was thinking of taking the summer off. So it’ll probably only be you.”
“Really?”
“Yup. I’m all yours until the wedding. We’ll be spending a lot of time together, so it’ll be easier to keep my calendar free anyway.”
“Perfect,” he said. “I want to spend as much time as possible getting to know you.”
Ben’s dark brown eyes bore into hers with an intensity that made goose bumps break out all over her body. If he could do that with a look, Ryan was curious what he could do while naked. And on top of her. And inside her. Jesus Christ, focus. “Well, that’s settled then.” Her voice sounded husky, and she quickly reached for her water to hopefully wash away the sexual tension she’d completely fabricated in her mind.
If Ben recognized her tone, he didn’t show it. “Good.” He sat back against the chair, and a small smile showed on his very kissable lips.
“Does that mean you won’t be, um . . . you know?” she blurted out.
“Won’t be what?”
“That you won’t be spending a lot of time getting to know other women as much as possible?”
Ben looked taken aback for a second before his smile widened. “No. Of course not.”
“Good,” she said. “And for the record, I’m starting to believe in all that astrology stuff because you’re definitely a Capricorn.”
* * *
Over the next half hour or so, Ben drank another beer and they engaged in light, casual conversation about favorite foods, movies, and other minor topics that two people in a relationship should know about each other. Finally, he remembered he had another task to attend to. “I guess we should talk about the nondisclosure agreement,” he said, placing his hand on the manila envelope he’d set on the table when they’d arrived.
“What’s there to talk about? I just sign it, right?”
Even though they’d discussed it briefly at the diner, he hadn’t expected that sort of response from her. “You don’t have any questions or anything?”
“No. Should I?”
“Um . . . I guess not. But I want to make sure you’re comfortable signing it.”
“Yup. I’m good.”
“Oh. Okay,” Ben replied, though it sounded like a question.
“What? Should I be worried?”
“No,” Ben said quickly. “It’s a standard agreement. It says that you won’t share anything about our situation or about me with anyone, explicitly or otherwise.”
Ben handed her the pen he’d brought with him. “You have to sign and initial in the spots that have the sticky notes on them.”
Ryan pulled off the cap to the pen and signed her name and initials quickly. Then she passed the document back over to Ben.
“I’ll have my lawyer make a copy and send one to you if you give me your . . .” He didn’t finish his sentence, but it was clear from the way her mouth parted to speak that Ryan knew where he was headed with it. “I’ll bring you a copy next time I see you.”
“’Kay,” she said. “So what else is on the list?” she asked, leaning across the table curiously as she tried to read Ben’s small print upside down. “You write like a girl.”
Ben nearly spit out the sip of beer he’d taken.
“Sorry. It’s that no-filter thing again. You just have really neat handwriting.”
“Thanks,” Ben said, though he wasn’t sure if she’d meant it as a compliment. He looked down at his paper and then let out an embarrassed laugh.
“What?”
“I feel like an ass asking this because it shouldn’t matter. It doesn’t matter,” he corrected himself. “But if one of my family members asks me and I don’t know the answer, I’ll look like a fucking idiot.”
“It’s fine,” Ryan said. “I lost my virginity when I was fifteen.”
Ben shook his head in confusion and laughed. “What? Why would you think one of my relatives would ask when you had sex for the first time?”
Ryan smiled, her eyes revealing her amusement. “I don’t. I just figured I’d tell you something personal right off the bat so whatever you were about to ask me doesn’t seem as awkward in comparison.”
Ben was silent for a moment. “That’s actually a clever tactic.”
“Thanks,” she replied, clearly proud of herself. “Now go ahead. Ask me.”
“What ethnicity are you?”
She popped the last piece of pretzel in her mouth and swallowed the bite before answering. “My mom’s Cuban and Italian.”
Since he was worried he’d start to forget everything after tonight, he wrote down that answer as he had with her others before looking up again. “How about your father? What’s he?”
“A piece of shit.” Her tone was light, but Ben could tell from the way her gaze averted as she spoke that there was truth to her words.
Ben’s jaw dropped enough for him to speak as he searched for any words that would lessen the tension of the moment. “Sorry,” was all he could come up with.
“Don’t apologize. You’re not the one who left.” She said it so matter-of-factly—like she’d had years of practice accepting something no one should ever have to accept. “And to answer your question, I don’t know what ethnicity he is. My mom never offered the information, and I never cared enough about him to ask.”
Ben gave her a slow nod, hoping the gesture would be enough to show her he understood where she was coming from. At least in theory. There was no way he could actually know. As much as he complained about his parents, they were still together. And there was no doubt in his mind that they both loved him. Even if they had an odd way of showing it. The fact that he’d felt the need to hire an escort just to withstand a few days with them made him wonder what Ryan thought of him.
They were both silent for a few minutes as they stared at the stage and listened to the band. He was sure that Ryan was pretending to be interested in them so she could avoid any further conversation about her past. She’d been so forthcoming, but something told him that she’d shared all she wanted to about the situation.
Finally Ben spoke, hoping to relieve some of the tension that had built between them. “So fifteen, huh?” he asked, raising an eyebrow at her as he rocked back in his chair a bit. “No one wanted to see me naked ’til I went to college.”
Her small smile told him she hadn’t been expecting the change in conversation, but she was thankful for it. “Yeah, well, what can I say? I guess I’m prettier than you.”
<
br /> Ben returned her smile, happy he’d been able to restore some of the levity. “There’s no doubt about that,” he said. Ryan was drop-dead gorgeous.
Chapter Eight
Ben tugged at the light blue bow tie around his neck and tried not to think about how the tie was constricting his breathing almost as much as being surrounded by his family. The closer he’d gotten to Connecticut, the more tense he’d become. It wasn’t that he didn’t love his family. He just preferred to love them from a distance. And judging by the daggers his brother had been shooting at him most of the day, the feeling was mutual. Ben was glad that after today he wouldn’t need to return until the wedding.
“You’re going to shave that, right?” His brother David’s voice was gruff in his ear, and Ben startled.
Ben ran his hands down the gray tuxedo he was wearing. “Shave what?”
“The beard,” his brother said impatiently. “You look homeless.”
And you look like a prick. “I thought only the bride was supposed to make insane grooming demands.”
“Asking you to shave isn’t insane. It’s basic decency to look presentable. Especially when you’re the best man.”
Ben let out a long sigh. He wished he could have denied his brother’s request when David asked him to be the best man. There was no doubt their mother had forced David to ask him, and it wasn’t something either of them wanted. They could barely be in the same room for ten minutes without fighting. David had four other groomsmen, and he didn’t seem to be a complete and utter dick to them at every opportunity. Surely at least one of them liked his brother enough to want to be his best man. “Fine,” Ben gritted out. “I’ll shave for the wedding.”
David scoffed. “Don’t look so happy about it.”
“What the fuck is your problem?” Ben growled.
David opened his mouth to respond, but he was interrupted by the disapproving voice of their mother. “Benjamin Henry Williamson, I know you did not use profanity in the middle of a store. You may be able to act like a barbarian on the ice, but you will maintain decorum when you are with us, understood?”
Ben resisted the urge to roll his eyes, though barely. His mom approached and began to examine their tuxes in close detail.
The Proposition Page 5
