Hurting To Feel (Carpool Dolls)

by Abby Wood

  "Reschedule, please," he said.

  "Sir, I have a note here that I'm not to allow you to miss the drinks. Mr. Cartman will be there, and you want to personally thank him for the timeshare."

  "Shit," he mumbled.

  Addison listened curiously. She'd talked to Janice on the phone twice now, and decided right then she liked the woman. Anyone who could put up with Mr. Rafferty and make him fulfill his obligation had a spine of steel.

  "Do you want me to call Suzanne and see if she'll be your date tonight?" Janice asked.

  "No. I'll figure out something." Mr. Rafferty glanced at Addison.

  "Great. Then I'll tell you good night, Mr. Rafferty. I'm leaving the office, and I'll see you tomorrow, bright and early like always. Toodles."

  He pushed the disconnect button and turned off onto a side street. Addison removed her cell phone out of her purse. Normally, her clients ended the ride in the downtown district and she enjoyed walking to the parking garage or calling a cab for an easy trip back to Vancouver. Nevertheless, taxis were notoriously slow picking her up in outlying neighborhoods and she'd make sure to bill Mr. Rafferty accordingly.

  Mr. Rafferty reached out and grabbed her wrist, stopping her from placing the call. "How much does it cost if I ask you to come have a drink with me?"

  "I'm sorry. Having drinks isn't a service I provide." She extracted her arm from his grasp, and rubbed her skin. Her heart raced. "If you'll excuse me, I'll call a cab."

  "Wait." He turned his head, blew out his breath, and returned his attention to her. "Listen, I know what you do for a living. I need someone, a female, to go with me to meet a few business friends. You'll be my excuse to get out of there before midnight. Name a price, I'll pay you."

  Was this guy serious?

  "I'm afraid that's not possible. There are strict rules about hiring a Carpool Doll and working after hours without prior approval is a call for immediate dismissal," she said.

  She'd enforced the rule herself, because many of the men tried to convince the dolls to escort them to parties, dinners, and to their bedrooms. Besides maintaining a clean reputation, she had to keep her girls safe.

  "Do you always follow the rules?" His gaze dropped to the front of her dress.

  She pursed her lips and studied him. "Yes."

  "Come on, you can break the rules. For me?" He shot her a well-intended look that started her ovaries dancing.

  Tempted to find out more about the millionaire mogul that fought his way to the top, she fingered the keypad on her phone. What would a couple drinks hurt? She wouldn't charge him. Her prior plans for tonight amounted to doing two loads of laundry and curling up on the couch to watch the first season of Dexter.

  She nodded, sending a text to Gee asking her to lock up and giving her the new plans. "Okay, but I have rules."

  "Great." He started the car.

  Apparently uninterested in what she had to say, he concentrated on driving. She raked her teeth over her bottom lip. God, he was gorgeous.

  But, she wasn't going to make a mistake.

  "I need to be dropped off at the Lincoln parking garage by ten o'clock," she said.

  "Sure," he said.

  "If I decide to leave before you're ready, you won't stop me from calling a cab." She slipped her cell back in her purse. "Also, you pay for anything I eat or drink."

  "Got it," he murmured.

  "Last rule—she waited until he glanced at her again—you're not allowed to touch me."

  There. She tilted her head, pleased with herself for coming across as a professional, mature, unstoppable, dom—

  "Can't do that one, Addy." He spoke softly, maneuvering the traffic as he fought to find an opening to change lanes.

  The way he'd shortened her name wasn't lost on her. "W-what do you mean?"

  "I plan to have you beside me all evening. That requires me to put my hand on your back. When we talk with the other men in the lounge, I expect you to act like you're there for me because it's the only place you want to be. Occasionally, I'll probably forget that you have a no touching rule, and I'll play with the strand of hair that despite your attempt at pushing it behind your shoulder during the car trip keeps falling along your cheek. So, if you can't handle me touching you in the simplest ways, then speak now and I'll take you to the parking garage and we'll call it good night." He brought the car to a stop, swung his arm over her head, and grabbed the headrest before parallel parking. When he shut off the engine, he looked at her. "You can handle the job, right?"

  Could she handle the job? Go out with Portland's most eligible bachelor? She swallowed hard.

  "All right, I agree on your terms," she whispered.

  His mouth softened and before she could protest, he fingered the strand of hair he was just talking about and gave it a gentle tug. "Perfect," he whispered back.

  Frick. Frick. Frick. She always protected herself. One appointment with Mr. Rafferty and she'd put herself in a position to run into the one person she never wanted to set eyes on again.

  Chapter Three

  Personally thanking Jared Cartmen for the timeshare seemed like the proper thing to do last week. Tonight, Nate wished to be anywhere but at the Hyatt hotel mingling with the crowd in the lounge.

  A room of loud, drunken, too friendly men was not the atmosphere he'd want for any woman. He hooked Addy's waist and pulled her closer. Even a woman who serviced men for a living deserved more respect and less ogling.

  "Once I find Jared, I'll get you out of here." He lifted his glass of bourbon and spoke behind the drink. "I should've realized this was not a safe place for a woman."

  As much as he wanted to tip back his glass and enjoy the slow burn, he wanted to stay tuned in to the situation. Something felt off. Whether his discomfort came from knowing Addison nursed her drink without letting anyone notice or the lecherous looks from the other men toward Addison set him on edge, he didn't know. Probably both.

  "I'm okay." She smiled at a spot across the room.

  By all appearances, she was telling the truth. Without leaving his side, she worked the room. His fingertips dug into her hip, and he fought against putting a mark on her. Knowing she was comfortable being the one of a few female in the lounge bothered him, and because it bothered him, he controlled his reaction.

  She was an escort. Nothing more.

  Quint Salles, president of FEL Paint, lifted his hand in recognition and walked toward him. He dipped his chin and stuck out his hand.

  "Nate. How're you doing?" Quint rocked back on his heels.

  "Same as always. It's good to see you." He peered behind Quint. "How's your wife…Donna?"

  Quint shrugged, ending with a bitter laugh. "Sitting pretty. She got the house, the kids, and a lifetime twenty percent cut."

  "Sorry to hear that," he murmured.

  Quint turned and his smile softened. "Addison. What a nice surprise."

  Addison leaned forward and pressed her cheek against Quint's. "Absolutely. You're looking handsome as ever, and now I know the reason behind not seeing you lately, I can stop worrying that you gave up on me. I'm so sorry to hear about your marriage."

  Quint chuckled, pulling Addison closer. "You more than anyone knew it was over between Donna and me a long time ago."

  Obviously meant for Addison's ears only, Quint's confession shocked Nate. He looped his arm across Addison's shoulders and pulled her away. "If you'll excuse us, I need to find Cartmen."

  "Yeah, sure, Rafferty." Quint half turned. "Last I saw him he was sitting in the back—he eyed Addison from heels to hair—I'll call."

  "I'll look forward to it." Addison fluttered her fingers in a wave as Nate stepped back.

  Look forward to it? What the hell happened to her no touching rule? He removed his arm and glanced at Addison. He'd offered her money, and she turned him down. What was the secret to getting in her panties?

  Not that he'd go there. He had others ways to appease himself, and working for it wasn't his style. He wanted a woman who
begged for what he could give her.

  Addison stopped him with a hand on his arm. "Mr. Rafferty?"

  Fuck. Mr. Rafferty? "It's Nate."

  She nodded. "Nate. If you'll excuse me, I'm going to visit the restroom. I'll come right back. Go ahead and go about your business and I'll find you."

  He frowned. "I'll walk—"

  "No." She patted his arm. "I know my way."

  Standing in the middle of the room, he watched her walk through the crowd and disappear down the hallway to the left of the bar. Everything about Addison fascinated him, but he wasn't willing to learn more. He had a feeling he wouldn't like what he'd find out.

  He'd used plenty of women. Women just like her who would do anything for money. Hell, he was no better than the cheapest prostitute standing on the corner. But Addison…

  He had no idea why he'd asked her to come along. Nothing about tonight was turning out the way he'd expected. He only knew when he was around her; the signals she sent almost sent him through the roof. He wanted her, but on his terms.

  There was something extremely vulnerable about her. It was the way she bit her lip and cast glances at him when she thought he wasn't looking, and the way her breath hitched when he put his hand on her. He could have her come within thirty seconds. If she got off her high horse and stopped playing a game.

  For some reason, she was determined to put on a confident air. And for a woman who sold her body, she had him languishing between being pissed off and highly attentive.

  He turned around, determined to find Jared and put an end to the evening.

  Jared sat in the corner, his back against the wall, and an attractive woman half in his lap. He lifted his chin and approached the table.

  "Just the man I was looking for." Jared patted the woman's hip. "I was telling Lyla about my timeshare in Bora Bora—he leaned forward—of course, I can't take Lyla there with my wife, and I told her you might be interested. How about it, Rafferty? Would you like a little vacation on your vacation?"

  Lyla's blue eyes drank Nate up. Along with high-priced hookers, other men's seconds were off the menu too. He grinned. "Sorry, Cartmen. I was looking to do some business while I was down there and I'm afraid such a beautiful woman would distract me…"

  "That's a shame." Jared kissed Lyla. "We'll figure something out, love."

  Lyla's lower lip stuck out and she gazed up at Nate behind lowered lashes. He wanted to shake his head, but he continued with business. "That's why I'm stopping by. I wanted to thank you personally for the timeshare."

  Jared stuck out his hand, shook, and grinned. "Don't mention it. Letting me sit on the board for the Larent project well deserved a gift."

  He nodded. "Glad you see it that way."

  A hand brushed his arm and he turned. Addison smiled at him, and his body relaxed despite the uncomfortable tension coming from Lyla. "Everything okay?"

  "Of course," Addison said.

  "My, God. Addison?" Jared stood, displacing Lyla from his side. "Come here and give me a hug, girl."

  Addison moved. Nate hooked her arm and pulled her back. "Sorry, Cartmen. We're heading out, but I wanted to make sure I stopped by and thanked you personally."

  Jared glanced between him and Addison. He couldn't explain—okay, he could. He wanted to leave. Now.

  Without missing a beat, he escorted Addison through the room and out the door. On the sidewalk, he inhaled the cool night air to calm down.

  "I know it's none of my business, but you seem awfully uptight tonight compared to when we arrived." Addison cupped her elbows in her hands. "Was it something I did?"

  He studied her for several seconds and decided this was the side of Addison that appealed to him. She was being honest in her concern, and he wanted to put her mind at ease. "No."

  Her brows rose, and she looked away. If he wasn't mistaken, a flash of self-doubt came over her. The quiver in her lips. The slight intake of breath she took when he answered. The stiffening of her spine to cover her reaction. These weren't signs he expected to see on a woman perfectly comfortable around men.

  He resigned himself to the simple fact that she was a beautiful woman and that was the reason why he couldn't seem to stop thinking about her. Her classiness was a cover for the kind of business she was in, an act, and she purposely softened her voice around him because she'd filled a spot beside him throughout the evening.

  If she wanted to play, he could ignore the way he wanted her.

  "Come on, I'll take you to my car." He held out his hand.

  She ignored his offer, and walked beside him. Instead, he put his hand on her lower back. The back and forth sway of her hips beneath his fingertips did nothing to lessen the strain of the evening.

  One block away from his car, the toe of her heel scraped against the sidewalk. His hands were on her, steading her, before he put any thought into touching her. Because he was holding her against the front of him and his hands were on her, he became aware of her shaking. He followed her gaze to a black Cadillac Escalade.

  "Addy?"

  The muscles along her throat constricted. He tightened his embrace, and she shook her head. "Sorry. I must've caught my shoe on the ground."

  She continued to stare across the street. He lifted her chin with his finger, studying her. When a woman shook, it was because he'd put that reaction in her. Whatever scared her wasn't coming from him.

  "You're lying," he murmured. "Why?"

  She laughed softly and pressed her hands against his chest, and he let her go. He studied her as a mask of indifference came over her face. He'd seen the fear though, and he wanted to know what would cause a woman like her to be scared.

  "Are you in danger?" he asked.

  "Of course not." She motioned for him to walk. "We better go. Ten o'clock is the witching hour, or so I've heard. I wouldn't want to press my luck."

  They continued to the car. He opened the passenger door, and then walked around and slid behind the steering wheel. The Lincoln Parking garage was only a few blocks away. They took the ride in silence.

  When he entered the first floor, she directed him up to the third and pointed at a sleek red Porsche.

  "That one's mine," she said.

  He pulled to a stop and shut off the engine, gazing between the woman and the vehicle. "Can I ask you something?"

  "Sure." She removed her seatbelt.

  He waited until she found her keys, swung her hair behind her shoulder, and couldn't stall any longer. A paid escort must make a pretty dime to afford a car like that.

  When she looked back at him, he asked, "How would you like to work for me?"

  "What?" She frowned, shaking her head.

  "I'm serious. I could always use another person to help Janice in the office. I'd pay you well." He shifted in the seat and grabbed his wallet out of the back of his slacks, extracting a business card. "Give that number a call tomorrow and I'll have Janice talk to you."

  He hadn't planned on offering her a job, but he found it impossible to leave her, knowing tomorrow morning she'd be back to riding with another man who used the carpool service as a way to get his rocks off. Addison deserved more, and he found himself not ready to walk away from her yet.

  "Thank you, but that's not necessary. I enjoy run—working as a doll." She put his card on the dash, opened the door, and left.

  He jumped out of the car and braced his elbows on the hood, gazing over the roof of the BMW. "Why do you settle for working as a Carpool Doll when it's obvious you could be doing so much more with your life? Let me help you, Addy."

  Her back went stiff and she slowly turned around. "Let you help me?"

  He nodded. "Yeah."

  She clutched her purse in her hand. "You asshole," she whispered.

  In the almost empty parking garage, the name ricocheted back to him. He moved around the car. Somehow he'd insulted her, but he couldn't figure out how.

  "Listen—"

  "Stop." She put her hand up. "Don't say any more. I've heard enough."r />
  "I want to talk with you," he said.

  She scoffed. "We don't have anything more to say."

  "I'm thinking we have a lot to say, and if you don't give me five minutes now, I'll have Janice hire you in the morning to ride with me to work." He glowered.

  Her eyes widened. Then she snickered. He had no time to react, because she looked him square in the eyes and laughed. His body still reeling from her response to the job offer suddenly took notice of the way her face softened, her eyes brightened, and she opened herself to him for the first time since he'd met her. He'd thought she was beautiful before. When she laughed, she was absolutely stunning.

  She inhaled deeply, still snickering. "Oh dear, Mr. Rafferty—"

  "Nate," he said.

  "I don't think so." She pivoted and walked to her car and opened the door. Before she climbed in, she paused. "You see, Mr. Rafferty. You don't know me at all. You will not call tomorrow and be able to hire me."

  "Why not?" he said.

  Her laughter died. "Because I am the owner of Carpool Dolls."

  Without letting him comprehend the news, she slid inside the Porsche, put it in reverse, and squealed away. He stared at the vacant spot where she'd parked. The owner?

  Why didn't she say something the first time they met? Anger over how she could run such a business, and still hold the power of the men who used her business, he jumped back in the BMW, kicked it into third, and raced out of the parking garage in pursuit. If she thought she'd seen the last of him, she was wrong.

  Chapter Four

  Addison slammed the door, slapped at the light switch, and threw her purse across her living room. The more miles she put between her and Nate, the angrier she grew. She'd worked her ass off for the last four years building a solid reputation for her girls.

  Who was he to assume anything about her?

  She kicked off her heels as she walked to the fridge and removed a bottle of wine. After putting up with his claustrophobic touching and playing her role as his date—without a bite of dinner she noted—she deserved to consume the whole bottle. She poured herself a glass, and decided a spoonful of jam was also called for.