“You know we aren’t supposed to touch,” he snapped rather huffily. “That wasn’t part of the agreement. No touching!”
What the hell? What married couple doesn’t touch? Again, this had the looks of a titanic catastrophe in the making. And the scene unfolded all on its own.
“I didn’t touch!” protested Savannah, eyes wide. “Besides, that’s not right. We agreed to some touching. Just a little, like holding hands. Otherwise, we can’t carry this off,” she said under her breath, shooting nervous glances at me, Jennie, and Biggie.
But Reggie was emphatic.
“No touching!” he said again. “It’s not the way things work. I’m not attracted to women and I don’t like being touched by them!”
“I’m not ‘them,’” hissed Savannah, now trying to pull away her husband. “Remember your manners! Come on!”
But it was like trying to control a two year-old who was already in the middle of a tantrum. Reginald had tasted freedom and he no longer cared what happened.
“You can take your money,” he sniffed imperiously, nose in the air. “I don’t want it. Two hundred isn’t enough anyways. I’m leaving,” he said.
Now Savannah looked incensed, her face turning beet red as smoke wafted from her ears.
“I paid good money, and the money’s already been deposited into your bank account,” she hissed. “So you better behave!”
Jennie and I exchanged incredulous glances because was this really happening? Had Savannah hired Reginald to be her make-believe husband? Holy shit, clearly Jennie hadn’t been the only one with the idea of hiring a male escort. The only problem was that Savannah had gone low-brow. For two hundred bucks, she’d gotten a gay man who evidently couldn’t pretend to be straight for the life of him. Not to mention his childish ways and faux British airs. What a fucking disaster.
But my girl’s a good one, and she’s not one to wallow in someone else’s misery. So quickly, she tugged my arm.
“Come on, Jason,” Jennie whispered. “Let’s leave them to work out this lover’s spat on their own.”
Biggie nodded.
“Yo, this is unreal,” he said. “What the hell?”
And once the three of us were safely on the other side of the hotel ballroom, we shared astonished glances.
“Was that for real?” Biggie asked again. “Holy mackanoly.”
“I can’t believe it,” agreed Jennie softly, shaking her head. But then her expression grew stiff because who were we to point fingers? After all, we were engaging in exactly the same farce as Savannah and Reginald. Jennie had hired me, the same way Savannah hired Reginald. The only difference was that we’d been more successful at pulling it off. So where did we get off at being all high and mighty when we’d done the exact same thing?
But it’s the way the world turns, and I pressed another reassuring kiss to Jennie’s soft temple.
“It’ll be okay,” I rumbled. “Come on, let’s get out of here. See ya Bigs.”
Jennie nodded dumbly, allowing herself to be escorted from the ballroom.
“Bye Biggie,” she echoed as an afterthought before turning to look at me with those big brown eyes. “Wow,” she murmured again as the valet pulled the car up to the curbside, shaking her head with disbelief. “This is not how I thought things would turn out.”
I shot her a grin.
“It never works out the way you expect, right? Trust me, pretty girl. I’ve learned the hard way that anything can happen. But you know what? It’s usually even better this way, and with me sweetheart? You’re going to be okay.”
The brunette shot me a soft smile as she lowered that curvy form into the car and my heart pounded. Suddenly I wanted this woman for keeps … because the charade had just turned real.
CHAPTER SIX
Jennie
We stepped in the hotel room, my head still spinning with disbelief. Because I’d planned a glorious entrance that was supposed to end in fireworks. Jennie Lake, former wallflower, was going to show everyone that she was cool, hip, and sophisticated now, complete with a handsome man on my arm.
But instead, nothing turned out the way I expected because the show hadn’t been about me at all. Instead, it’d been about Savannah, and I didn’t know what to feel after all that. I should have felt happy because clearly, the woman was a lunatic and her so-called perfect life was completely fake. But instead, I just felt sad for her, in addition to confused and a little worried. Did she have some kind of mental illness? I guess revenge doesn’t feel that sweet when your former enemy is actually living a really tough life.
Jason followed me into the room, lowering his big form into one of the small club chairs. I sat across from him, our knees almost touching as he scrolled through his phone.
“Shit,” he growled, looking up for an instant. “I just googled Savannah, and it turns out she lives in Mississippi. In a little town called Yazoo. She is a florist there, and she can’t be making much. Mississippi is the poorest state in the United States, and wages there must be low.”
I nodded, still stunned.
“Must be why she only paid two hundred for an escort,” I murmured. “Two hundred is nothing.”
Jason growled in agreement.
“You get what you pay for,” he mused. “Because shit, that guy was unbelievable.”
I nodded in agreement.
“He lost his British accent at the end, did you notice? And he basically said he was gay.”
Jason took a deep breath, shaking his head.
“Poor dude. Pimping himself out for nothing with women like Savannah can’t be an easy way to make a living. Plus, I can’t imagine going out with someone hetero when you’re gay. Imagine it. It’d be like me going out on a date with another guy. Sheer torture. Absolute fucking misery.”
This was veering into crazy territory, but at this point, I didn’t know what to think.
“Wow,” I whispered. “Wow.”
Jason took my hand, sending shivers up my arm.
“I know. That entire scenario was enough to last me for a year. Shit, I should make a movie from it. Imagine that. My Ex-Girlfriend Hired a Gay Prostitute. Or something titled The Crazy Class Reunion.”
But despite Jason’s teasing tone, I was troubled because what did this say about me? If Savannah was pathetic, then I was just as much so because I did the same thing. Desperate to make a good impression on my former classmates, I hired a man to be my so-called boyfriend. Having Jason on my arm was my so-called “achievement,” the perfect accessory to show how far I’ve come in life.
Suddenly, tears sprang to my eyes and I lowered my head so that the handsome man couldn’t see.
“I don’t know,” I said in a low whisper. “I just don’t know.”
Jason shot me a penetrating look, that blue gaze suddenly alert.
“Don’t know what?”
I took a deep breath.
“I just don’t know, you know? I was supposed to show everyone how awesome my life is, and instead, we get this,” I said helplessly. “I see Savannah Sherman living the hard life making pennies in Mississippi, and it didn’t make me feel better. So she’s barely scraping by and had to hire a boyfriend. Figures,” I said ruefully, swiping my eyes with my hand. “I guess victory’s hollow sometimes. Turns out the trick was on me.”
But suddenly, Jason was by my side, kneeling beside my curvy form while holding my hand. Tingles shot up my arm even as I shot him a teary smile.
“No sweetheart,” he rumbled, that voice low and filled with meaning. “It just means that you’re a good person. You care about other people, even those who hurt you in the past. You have a good heart, and can’t bear to see other people suffer when it’s unnecessary.”
I sniffled a little.
“Maybe,” I acknowledged, taking a deep breath. “But what happens now?” I asked, still a little teary. “I guess you’ve earned your pay, and our contract’s over. If you want, I’m happy to pay you a bonus. You’ve done your job well and provi
ded services I never expected.”
My cheeks flamed because of course, I was referring to the fact that we’d slept together. When I originally hired an escort, I just wanted someone to show-off during the reunion. I never imagined I’d spend a night to remember in bed with the hunky high school quarterback.
But Jason didn’t laugh it off or jump at the offer of a bonus. Instead, his hand was big and warm on my thigh, caressing my skin in soft circles. My pussy tingled a bit and began to ache. But the voice in my head spoke again. Simmer down, it warned. He’s just a paid gun. You hired him and his job is done. Maybe it went off without a hitch, but there’s no future for you, and there never was.
I raise rueful eyes to his, still a little teary.
“Like I said, I’m happy to pay a bonus. Or a tip,” I said quickly, feeling stupid all of a sudden. “That’s how it works, right? So sorry, I should have known.”
Suddenly, all those images from Pretty Woman ran through my head. Doesn’t Richard Gere leave Julia Roberts a wad of cash on the nightstand or something like that? That’s normal protocol when you hire an escort, right?
But Jason merely tipped his head back and laughed, that dazzling white smile flashing.
“Naw, sweetheart, the money doesn’t matter. I want something much more than that.”
The breath caught in my throat because I don’t have anything else. I’m a poor mouse living in a tiny walk-up in Manhattan. Sometimes it’s a struggle to even get by, and there were weeks when I showered at the gym so that I wouldn’t have to pay for hot water at home.
I swallowed heavily while smiling at him.
“Shoot,” I said. “I’ll try, but no promises.”
The look in his eyes was intense, the blue searing my skin. Again, my pussy tingled and I moistened within, readying myself for him.
But Jason doesn’t mince words. He’s gotten to where he is in life by being a straight-shooter, and the big man took my breath away with his next sentence.
“I want you, Jennie,” he said simply. “You and nothing else. Will you give me that?”
My heart leapt into my throat, and I grew stock still in the small chair.
“I’m sorry?” came my choked voice. “What do you mean?”
His eyes gleamed, that hand growing more insistent on my thigh.
“You know what I mean,” he rumbled. “You and me. Dating like a real couple. Would you be interested?” he asked with one eyebrow arched.
“What?” I croaked after a disbelieving pause. “What do you mean?”
Jason grinned that knowing grin again.
“You know what I mean,” he reiterated again. “We have a lot going for us,” he intoned. “First we have similar backgrounds. We both grew up in the South, and probably have a lot of shared values. But we also both left the South to pursue media careers elsewhere, you in New York and me in LA. Plus, we get along really well, both in and out of bed,” he said, waggling his brows at me.
This was too much. Was he joking with me? This wasn’t the time for games because my heart would break, so I snatched my hand away from his.
“If this is part of your escorting thing, you can stop,” I said stiffly. “The reunion went off without a hitch, and you don’t have to dish any more of the boyfriend experience.”
But Jason wasn’t put off at all. Instead, he seized my hand again, still kneeling by my side and looked at me with those mesmerizing blue eyes. He was so handsome and charismatic that I could feel my heart melting despite my best efforts to resist.
“No sweetheart,” he said, gaze suddenly serious. “I mean every word that I just said. This has nothing to do with escorting or money or the reunion. This has to do with me and you. I want us to date like real people, albeit it’ll have to be long distance at first. So what do you think?”
I stared at him now, my heart in my throat.
“So you’re serious?” I croaked, sounding like a frog. “This isn’t part of your service or a joke? This isn’t a prank?”
That wry grin showed itself again but then he squeezed my hand once more, looking straight into my eyes.
“I know what you’re thinking,” he said slowly, his voice slightly gravelly. “I know that we have a past, and it’s not the best. I know that I was the high school quarterback, Mr. Big Man on Campus. I was a cocky son-of-a-bitch who got into trouble and didn’t protect the people who needed me, and that includes you. So I’m not sure what to do,” he said, heaving a deep breath. “I want to say that it was because I was a teenage boy back then and didn’t know better, but the truth is that there’s no excuse. At fifteen, you’re old enough to know that being an asshole is not okay.”
My heart pumped in my chest.
“There is no excuse,” I agreed slowly. “But I also agree with you that that was more than a decade ago, and that people change over time. I’ve changed a lot,” I said. “So I believe that you have as well. It’s the human experience.”
“Exactly,” said Jason, his eyes intent on mine once more. “So I think there’s real possibility here. We both acknowledge the wrongs of the past, and that we’re not those people anymore.”
I nodded slowly.
“Yes, but what about the escorting thing?” I said, my voice a little hesitant. “I know you said it’s not the way you make a living, but are you still planning to escort if we date?” I hated the way my voice came out so unsure and pleading, but it was how I felt because if Jason said he wanted to continue working for Southern Charm, then there was no way things could work out. I’m a modern girl with modern values, but I’m not that progressive. I can’t let a man I’m seeing continue to see other girls and maybe even sleep with them. No way.
But Jason wasn’t perturbed at all.
“Sweetheart, Southern Charm isn’t my thing. In fact, I hardly ever do it. It’d be no trouble to drop it at all, and in fact, I’d never consider escorting if we were in a relationship.”
A big exhale of relief escaped my chest and I was about to speak but Jason quirked another smile at me.
“And you don’t have to worry either,” he said casually. “I haven’t done much escorting in the past, so it’s not like there’s a crowd of women ready to point me out as “that guy.” In fact, sweetheart, you’re only client number six. In all the years I’ve been doing this, I’ve only gone out with women six different times.”
“Really?” my jaw dropped. “So you don’t do this every weekend?”
Jason laughed again, flashing that bright white smile, but then he turned to me again with serious blue eyes.
“No, sweetheart. Not even close. And you know what? It’s no way to treat the woman that you’re with, and if I’m with you, then I want you to have the best of the best. And that includes one hundred percent of me,” he finished with a cocky grin.
Suddenly, my heart overflowed because this man was speaking the words I wanted to hear. Jason wanted there to be a real “us.” He wanted us to be a couple that was going to explore a true, meaningful relationship with one another, with all the good and bad, untainted by any third parties or odd escorting arrangements.
And I smiled at him then, gripping his hands tight in my small ones. Because why not? This man had already shown me so much. Sure, we met again under bizarre circumstances, but Jason’s more than that. He’s more than a braindead gigolo for sale on a website. He’s a man in full, with a successful career, a strong personality, and an amazing body. If we both committed to making things good with one another, then the sky would be the limit. So I smiled at him while cocking my head sassily.
“Why not?” I purred. “Let’s give it a try. But can we pretend for tonight that I’m still Client Number Six? Because I want to re-live the excitement that only you can deliver.”
And in a flash, the alpha male had me on the big bed, bouncing and giggling as he landed on me, covering my soft form with his massive one. But then he pressed his lips to mine in a kiss so soulful and pure that I was left breathless, heart beating a mile a minute
.
“I’ll make things good for you in every way, sweetheart,” he growled in promise. “You can count on it.”
And that’s how my escort became my boyfriend. Sure, we still have a lot of things to work out. After all, we’re on opposite coasts, and I have no idea whether or not I’ll be able to land a job in Los Angeles, or him in New York. But you know what? After the drama we’ve been through, my movie producer will make sure that I have a happily ever after in the end.
EPILOGUE
Jason
Six months later …
God, she was so beautiful. Jennie lay on my bed in LA, spread-eagle and nude, panting with delirium. It’s exactly how I like my women. Or specifically, my woman, singular, because ever since we decided to start dating, Jennie’s been my one and only.
Of course, Southern Charm was horrified when I announced my retirement.
“You’re our best employee!” wailed Pamela, the owner. “Don’t say you’re quitting. What are we going to do?”
I shrugged, totally disinterested. It wasn’t my problem.
“There are tons of good-looking guys. I’m sure you’ll find someone,” I said.
But Pamela let out another yelp, almost crying now.
“But a lot of the guys are dumb! Or gay!” she cried. “You’re the only one we have who’s reasonable.”
I nodded with understanding. After all, seeing how things played out with Reginald and Savannah, there was truth to Pamela’s words. Reggie had been flying the rainbow flag, plus he had no idea how to act. As a result, Savannah’s scheme had been revealed, to everyone’s horror and shock.
But again, Pamela’s human resources problem wasn’t my issue because Southern Charm was never something that was long-term. It was a side gig that I took on out of sheer boredom more than anything. And now that I had a steady girl at my side, there was no reason to go about squiring strange women, no matter how much money Pamela sent my way.
“Five thousand a gig!” she offered tearfully. “And you get to keep ninety percent!”
Client No. 6: A Dial-A-Date Romance Page 7
