One Foolish Night: Eternal Bachelors Club #4

by Tina Folsom

  Holly leaned in and dropped her voice as low as she could. “Mr. Keller, I wouldn’t touch you with gloves, let alone with my bare hands.” She ripped her hand from his grip. “So if you don’t mind, you sleazy bastard, get your kicks somewhere else. I don’t need your stinking loan. You touch me one more time, and I will file assault charges against you. Do we understand each other?”

  With satisfaction she noted the shocked look on his face.

  She rose from her chair. “And one other thing: There’s a reason somebody like you has to pay for sex. Because no woman in her right mind would do you for free.”

  Holly pivoted, and with her head held high, she marched out of the bank. Only when she’d walked three blocks and turned a corner did she lean against a building and take a deep breath.

  She resisted the tears that threatened to overwhelm her. No, she would not cry. She was stronger than that. This was only a temporary setback. Maybe some other bank would give her a loan. Or maybe she could work out a different deal with the owner of the matchmaking business.

  Holly sighed. It was all wishful thinking. She knew the owner wanted to retire and needed the cash Holly would pay for the business. And her own bank had been her best bet in the first place. A bank she had no prior relationship with wouldn’t even look at her application. She had no collateral, except for the matchmaking business once it was hers. But that wasn’t enough. She was nearly out of savings. Another month or two and she would have to take any job she could find, just to keep herself afloat. And once her pregnancy started to show, nobody would hire her.

  What would she do now?

  She closed her eyes, wishing she could turn back time. But there was no such thing as a time machine she could use to transport herself back and undo all the mistakes she’d made. She had to live with those mistakes and make the best of it.

  Her cell phone buzzed in her handbag, so she pulled it out and looked at the display. It was a New York number, but she didn’t know it. Was Sabrina calling her from somewhere other than her home or cell phone?

  Curious, Holly answered. “This is Holly.”

  “Holly, it’s Paul. Paul Gilbert.”

  Her breath caught in her throat, and her heart stopped beating. Unable to speak, she tried to pull air into her lungs.

  “Holly? Are you there?”

  “Yes.”

  “We need to talk.”

  “Talk?” she repeated, sounding like a parrot in her own ears.

  “Yes, about something personal. Something important.”

  A spark of hope blossomed in her chest. Had he changed his mind about her? Did he regret the way things had ended between them? “Okay. Then talk.”

  “In person. I’m in San Francisco. Can we meet?”

  Her heart beat with excitement. Paul had come to San Francisco. To see her! “Yes.”

  Yes, she wanted to see him, because despite the things he’d said to her, despite what had happened, she hadn’t been able to forget him. With his baby growing inside her, she doubted that she would ever truly be able to forget him.

  “Yes, we can meet,” she repeated.

  She looked into the sun and smiled. Maybe this day would end on a positive note after all.

  9

  He shouldn’t feel nervous, but he was. Not the sweaty palms kind of nervous, but the heart-racing kind of nervous. At least that meant it wouldn’t show on the outside. He would be the only one who knew. Holly would be oblivious to his state of mind, as long as he could remain cool on the surface.

  Paul checked his reflection in a window. He wore a business suit and looked as if he was going to a business meeting. Well, he was. After all, this would be a business arrangement, nothing more, nothing less.

  Excuses, excuses, the little devil sitting on his shoulder said. We both know what you really want.

  Paul clenched his teeth and ignored the voice. With a steadying breath, he opened the door to the coffee shop and entered. The scent of freshly brewed coffee instantly put him at ease. He’d always loved that particular smell. It made him feel relaxed and reminded him of sitting on a terrace in the early morning and looking out at the water, watching the fishermen go out on their boats. Though today this particular image was quickly replaced by another.

  Holly sat at a small table in one corner, sipping a latte. Her back was stiff and her hands appeared to be holding her coffee cup too tightly—proof positive that she’d already spotted him, and was obviously apprehensive about seeing him again.

  Could he really blame her? After the way he’d treated her two months ago, he was surprised that she’d even agreed to meet him.

  Bypassing the barista’s station, he walked straight to Holly’s table and sat down opposite her. “Hi, Holly.”

  She looked at him, not releasing her hold on her cup, as if it were a lifesaver. “Paul.”

  “How have you been?”

  “Why are you here?”

  Apparently Holly wasn’t interested in small talk. Fine. He’d get to the point quickly. “There’s something I want to discuss with you.”

  She raised an eyebrow, but didn’t say anything.

  Shifting in his chair, he searched for the right words, realizing that he should have practiced his speech before coming here. He felt woefully unprepared for this, and he would bungle the entire thing if he didn’t use the right words. “I . . . I need your help.”

  Holly set her coffee mug on the table and slid back in her chair. “Help? What makes you think I would want to help you?”

  “Touché.” He forced a smile onto his lips, but even he knew how fake it made him look, so he wiped it off his face. “I deserved that.”

  She didn’t contradict him.

  Paul tried again. “My parents’ thirty-fifth wedding anniversary is coming up, and I’m supposed to stay with them for a full week to take part in all the festivities. Thing is, they’re going to throw every available rich heiress at me while I’m there.”

  “I don’t see how I could help you with that—even if I wanted to,” she qualified.

  “Well, I told my parents that I’m not single, but they didn’t believe me.”

  Holly shrugged. “Really not my problem.”

  Paul lifted his lids and looked into her blue eyes. For a moment he lost himself in their depths. Oh God, she was beautiful. “I told them I already had a girlfriend.” He noticed Holly’s chest lift. “I told them my girlfriend’s name is Holly.”

  Holly’s heart stuttered to a halt, only to restart at triple the pace. He’d told his parents about her? He’d told them that she was his girlfriend? A ray of hope suddenly blossomed inside her, opening her heart and spreading warmth through her entire body. Paul had changed his mind about her. He didn’t condemn her for what she’d done in the past.

  She leaned forward, her hand reaching out, wanting to touch him.

  “So I figured, considering you’re a professional, I could hire you to play my girlfriend for that week.”

  Her hand snapped back as if she’d touched a hot stove.

  “Play your girlfriend?” was all she could echo, and even those words came out like a whisper, the air in her lungs having suddenly deserted her.

  Paul glanced out of the window, as if he was embarrassed about having made this suggestion. “Yes. I’ll pay more than your going rate, of course, considering you won’t be able to . . . uh . . . service any other clients during that time. Your travel and all your expenses will be covered. You’ll fly to New York first class. If you need appropriate clothing for the week in the Hamptons, I’ll buy you what you need.”

  Numbly, she listened to his words. He’d come to hire her as his escort. He hadn’t come back to make things right between them. He hadn’t come to apologize for the way he’d treated her.

  Holly’s hand slipped to her stomach, where Paul’s child was growing inside her. If she’d ever had a smidgen of hope that there could be a future for them, it had just been extinguished. He would pay her. Because to him, she was still
a whore. And he would never be able to see her as anything else.

  Under no circumstances would she accept his offer. Because if she ever slept with him again, she would only make things worse. She had to protect herself for the sake of her unborn child.

  “I’m afraid I’m booked,” Holly lied.

  Surprise spread in his face. “But . . . I haven’t even told you the dates yet.”

  “I’m not available either way.”

  Paul leaned over the table and lowered his voice. “Why don’t you just say what you really want to say, Holly? You’re not available to me. No matter the date. Isn’t that it?”

  “Since you already know the answer, I think we’re done here.” She rose, but his hand clamped around her wrist and he pulled her back down.

  “No, we’re not. Fine, Holly, let’s have it your way. What would it take for you to accept my offer?”

  “You have nothing that I want.” It was the biggest lie that had ever crossed her lips. There was so much she wanted from him. His respect. His love.

  “How much? Name your price.”

  Shaking her head, she protested, “You can’t afford me. I don’t do freebies anymore.” She lashed the words at him and watched them hit their target. Paul flinched.

  His eyes blazed at her with fury. “I will pay whatever it takes. So name your fucking price!”

  Blinking for a moment, she recalled the loan application Keller had rejected. It was just a figure, but she threw it out anyway, knowing he’d never agree to it. After all, what man in his right mind would pay such an exorbitant amount for one week with an escort?

  “Two hundred and fifty thousand dollars.” She readied herself to leave, knowing that finally this nightmare would be over once he rejected her ridiculous demand.

  “Agreed.”

  Holly nearly choked on her own saliva, and for a moment she couldn’t even think. She must have heard him wrong. “What did you say?”

  “I said, I agree to the price.” His lips curved up slightly, as if he was finding pleasure in her shock.

  Why was Paul agreeing to this? For that price he could hire any woman he wanted and have her pretend her name was Holly and she was his girlfriend.

  No, she couldn’t go through with this, not even for a quarter of a million dollars. She had to get him to reject her offer. “But I won’t sleep with you.” Surely, now he would retract the deal and tell her to go to hell.

  She watched his face, noticing how an array of emotions played on it. She tried to pull from his grip, only now realizing that he was still holding her wrist.

  “Fine, Holly. You win.”

  She let out a sigh of relief when he released her wrist. He reached into his inside jacket pocket, pulled out a small leather-encased booklet, and flipped it open.

  It was a checkbook. Shock catapulted her back in her chair.

  “No sex. However, when we’re around my family and their friends, all I request is that we be affectionate toward each other, so that it will look like we’re intimate. And no worries—you’ll get your own room in my parents’ house. In that respect they’re old-fashioned.” He wrote the check and held it out to her. “And I will never enter your room. I promise.”

  Holly stared at the check and read the amount. He’d issued it for the exact amount that she’d requested. Could she really afford to refuse this kind of money when it meant that she would be able to buy the matchmaking business and build a future for herself and her child? What would it cost her in return? Only one week with Paul: no sex, no emotions. A simple business arrangement.

  And one week would be short enough so that there’d be no danger of his finding out that she was pregnant. She wasn’t showing yet, and she wouldn’t for at least another two or three months. By the time her pregnancy was obvious, she would be back in San Francisco running her own business.

  Call it child support, her inner voice told her. After all, since she would never name him as the father, she would never receive child support from him. Wasn’t it only fair that Paul should pay his share for the child he’d fathered?

  She reached for the check before she knew she’d made a decision. “Agreed.”

  10

  He’d picked Holly up at the airport himself rather than sending a car, and now Paul opened the door to his condo and motioned her inside, while he wheeled her suitcase in behind her.

  “Make yourself at home.”

  He couldn’t believe Holly was actually here. In his town. In his condo. Though not in his bed. And by the looks of it, she wouldn’t be in his bed ever again. She’d made that abundantly clear during their negotiations. As though she found him disgusting and couldn’t stand the thought of touching him.

  What the hell had he done? It wasn’t the amount of money he’d spent on her, but the fact that he’d had to spend any money at all to be with a woman—a woman who wasn’t even going to sleep with him. Had he gone completely insane in agreeing to her terms? He could have hired any woman—an actress, a model, whoever—to play his girlfriend and pretend her name was Holly. There had been no reason to go to such lengths to bring her to New York and parade her in front of his parents and their friends.

  No reason other than that he needed an excuse to see her. There, he was admitting it. He’d come up with an elaborate scheme just to see her again. How screwed up was that?

  And what if someone in the Hamptons recognized her as a call girl? After all, he was sure she had out-of-town clients, men with money who’d hired her. What if one of those men ran into them while they were in the Hamptons? He clearly hadn’t thought this through. No, all he’d thought about was how to spend time with Holly. He hadn’t thought about the consequences. If anybody recognized her, this entire charade would blow up in his face.

  The odds are miniscule. His inner voice tried to calm him. Right! Holly had already spent a considerable amount of time in the Hamptons when she’d visited Sabrina and Daniel before their wedding. And the Sinclairs had practically the same circle of friends and acquaintances as the Gilberts. Holly had already met most of the people she was likely to see when staying with Paul and his parents. There was really no risk. Besides, even if a former client showed up, most likely he would be a married man, and it wouldn’t be in his best interests to make it known that he recognized Holly and in what capacity. Any smart man would keep his mouth shut so as not to endanger his own reputation.

  “You have a nice place,” Holly said, and turned to him.

  “Thank you. It suits my needs.” Paul motioned to the end of the corridor. “I’ll show you to the master bedroom.”

  She stiffened instantly. “The master? I thought we agreed—”

  “I converted the guest room into an office, so I’ll be sleeping on the couch. You’ll have the master bedroom to yourself,” he hastened to reassure her, though in his gut he felt a slight stabbing pain, as if she’d just rammed a knife into his stomach by reinforcing her condition to keep sex out of their relationship. “The cleaning lady changed the sheets this morning, so it’s all fresh.”

  Holly nodded. “Thank you.” It looked as though she wanted to add something, but then she turned away, depriving him of the sight of her beautiful face with those brilliantly blue eyes.

  “The last door,” he instructed as he followed her down the short hallway, unable to tear his eyes from her swaying hips. She wore white capri pants that accentuated her shapely ass and her long legs, and reminded him of how he’d taken her for the first time: on her hands and knees with that beautiful ass pointing straight at him.

  He wanted to flog himself for his stupidity. At what point had he thought that this arrangement with Holly would work? Sure, she’d do fine pretending to be his girlfriend, but the nights he would have to spend on his own, knowing she was sleeping in the room next to his, would be torture. Even jerking off twice a day wouldn’t help take the edge off. Would three times do the trick? He seriously doubted it.

  “I like it,” Holly said as she entered his bedroom.
She placed her handbag on the bedside table and deposited her hand luggage next to the bed. Then she turned to him. “But why are we staying in New York? I thought we were doing this for your parents.”

  He left the suitcase just inside the door. “We’ll be going there tomorrow. But I figured we need today to get our stories straight. I’ll have to fill you in on details about my life.”

  When she raised an eyebrow, he added, “So that my parents realize that we know each other well. I don’t want them to smell a rat. I figured we’d go over everything once you felt rested after your flight.”

  “We can start right now, if you want. I feel rested. Believe me, flying first class is restful.”

  Surprised, he nodded and motioned to the corridor behind him. “Let’s get comfortable in the living room. Can I get you anything to drink? A glass of wine?”

  “I’ll take some water.”

  Holly followed him to the kitchen, where he grabbed two small water bottles from the fridge and handed one to her.

  “You should really get a water filter. You know how much waste plastic water bottles generate?” she asked.

  “Don’t tell me you’re an environmentalist.”

  She shrugged. “We all have things that are dear to our hearts.”

  “And apart from saving the planet, what are those things for you, Holly?”

  She took a gulp of the water. “I thought we were discussing details about your life, not mine.”

  Paul walked around the kitchen island and motioned for her to follow him to the living room, where he sat down in the broad armchair, leaving her the couch.

  “I have to know more about you too—otherwise, I’ll trip myself up.” He watched as she folded her legs underneath her and made herself comfortable in one corner of the couch.