by KB Winters
I frowned and felt unease drip down my spine. “I thought you didn’t look me up online. If you had you’d know all this already.”
Misha shrugged. “I did do an image search of you because I wanted to see if I could see whatever has been bothering you.” Her eyes were filled with concern, like she really wanted to help. “I noticed that in many photos there was an older gentleman with silver hair and I wondered who he was to you.” She covered a bowl and stuck it in the fridge before turning to something else. “I don’t like to do recon on my clients beyond knowing the basics because I want to get to know you through you. Not the filter of a reporter who needs to sell papers.”
Sounded good. But… “So, I have to believe you’re really my friend for this to work?” I knew I sounded like a skeptical asshole but I couldn’t help it.
“Not necessarily, no. But we will by friends by the time we say goodbye to one another Ethan. I’ll be honest and open with you and I hope you’ll do the same.”
I didn’t believe we’d be friends, not when she was paid to be here and produce results. But I couldn’t deny that I felt more relaxed lately. All the time with Misha helped me relax enough to sleep a few hours without waking up. “I guess we’ll see when we get there.” Her only response was a sly smile and a small shrug as we finished up prep work. We took salad, wine and cheese to the table while the food cooked.
“It’s too bad the pasta didn’t come out, but I love stuffed shells oozing with cheese!” She sat and poured the wine, still smiling as I decided where to sit. “To new friends and better days ahead.”
“To new friends and better days,” I clinked our glasses and took a long, fortifying sip. “I guess what you really want to know is why I snapped on the sainted Samantha Stevens the way I did?”
She shook her head. “I know why you did it. What I would like to know is, what made that day the one you snapped?”
I grinned. “You know why? Are you psychic?”
She laughed and took another sip. “I wish.” With a long sigh, she explained. “Her question triggered some painful memory for you, which has to do with why you started your company, and though you answer the question all the time, this time you didn’t want to. I’d like to know why. If you know,” she added without a hint of sarcasm.
Damn she was good. Even I hadn’t thought of it like that, but now it seemed so obvious. “I’ve been over it a thousand times and there was nothing special about that day.”
“Hm. Okay.” She reached for the cheese and sliced it, biting into it with a moan. “Want some?”
I shook my head. “You do know that cheese comes from cows, right? Who have been pumped full of hormones? And that milk is addictive so that calves will keep coming back and help the species survive?”
She picked up the wedge and sank her teeth into the entire thing. “So that’s a no to the cheese?” She shook her head at my frustrated groan. “What’s it like spending so much of your life thinking about dying?”
“I don’t.”
“Sure you do. I understand the health risks of certain foods so I exercise and keep active, making sure I eat some raw veggies. But I don’t obsess.”
“Neither do I.”
“No need to get angry. Death comes for us all eventually and I’d like to experience everything I can before it comes knocking on my door.”
I didn’t have that luxury. “Yeah well you won’t say that when too much of one of those things kills you.” I knew all too well the hazards of enjoying life to the fullest.
“I don’t do drugs so I’m not that concerned. Other than the occasional cocktail and a few hits of Mary Jane, I’m chemical free.”
I frowned. “That’s a drug.”
“Pot isn’t a real drug, and anyway I said things I wanted to do, not every damn thing on the planet. I swam with sharks and I’ve had champagne on top of the Eiffel Tower, cruised on a gondola in Venice and went bungee jumping in Nevada. I want to see the Great Barrier Reef, swim with dolphins and spend a month on a deserted island. I might get to do it all before I die and I might not. But I’ll do my damnedest not to have any regrets.”
“So you’re saying you never did drugs?” I knew I was so focused on that part of her words and her smile said she knew it too.
“Is that all you got from what I said?” With a shrug, she stood as the timer went off and pulled the food from the oven. “I’ve tried some but I prefer wine and pot. It’s interesting how we’ve spent so much time talking about drugs when you’ve traveled to the most beautiful places on the planet.” Her words were wistful, dreamy.
“Interesting?”
“Yep.” She nodded, wearing a knowing smile and waiting for me to talk.
I had no idea what to do with this carefree sexy woman, but I thought it might start with a few hours—or maybe a few weeks—in bed.
Five
Misha
“You want me to do what?” I couldn’t believe my ears at the request he’d just made, if it could even be called a request when delivered in that high-handed tone that probably took years to perfect. I cupped my ear and tilted it his way, certain I’d heard his words wrong. “Come again?”
His lips twitched but he put up a valiant effort to hide that handsome smile from me. “You heard me. I have a charity ball tomorrow night and you’re going as my escort. My date,” he clarified.
I spluttered at the command he’d laid down at my bare feet as we sat in the sand staring out into the vast ocean waters. “But, why? You’re a gorgeous billionaire, surely there are thousands of women in this city alone you could ask. Or demand.”
He sighed and even from the corner of my eye I could see his shoulders stiffen at what he saw as my insubordination. “I could but there will be plenty of press at this event and your job is to fix me, right?” I nodded at his over simplification of my job. “Then I’ll need you to help me through this, not some pair of tits on stilettos.”
I laughed. “So, no tits and no stilettos?”
His lips twitched and I considered it a win and nodded my agreement. I couldn’t say no and we both knew it because if he imploded in front of the press tomorrow, the blame would be squarely on my shoulders.
After we parted I spent the rest of the day shopping for a dress and most of the next afternoon getting waxed, greased and buffed for the event. Like most women I didn’t mind dressing up once in a while but these events always made me nervous. Women dressed in designer brands and draped in enough jewels to feed all the starving children in the world, and all they wanted to talk about was shopping. Oh, and money. Always money.
***
I dreaded going to the party, so I did my own deep breathing exercises while I waited for Ethan to pick me up.
As his date.
I didn’t normally fake date my clients, then again each of them had different needs. I kept my eyes closed as the sounds of pedestrians and traffic slowly faded and I didn’t feel so anxious. I’d barely got myself under control when a rushed knock sounded at my door. I pulled open the door and knew I was in trouble. Big blue eyes raked over me just as thoroughly as my own did him. He was stunning in a modern tux, with slim black pants that highlighted his lean muscular frame and made him look taller than his six-four height. So much heat radiated from his gaze I felt my panties start to steam and I had to look away before the way he licked his lips caused me to do something stupid.
Damn, I need to get laid.
“Damn, Misha you look hot.”
I smiled, pleased at his reaction to the bold emerald dress that was appropriate for the night but true to my bohemian style. It was an off the shoulders floor length chiffon dress. “Thanks Ethan, you clean up pretty well but then, that’s no secret,” I told him, enjoying a rush of feminine pleasure at the breath he sucked in when he saw the expanse of my smooth naked back. “Are we ready for this?”
Ethan’s smile was hot enough to heat all of Los Angeles as he escorted me to the waiting limo. “I’m always ready.”
“You should figure out how you want to explain our relationship before we arrive.” I preferred to leave it up to the clients to determine how they wanted to explain my presence but for a guy like Ethan, everyone would likely assume we were lovers.
“You don’t want them to know you’re fixing me?”
I shrugged and explained my policy. “It’s up to you.”
The limo came to a stop and Ethan stepped out first, flashing a sorry-not-sorry smile my way as the roar of waiting photographers wafted into the limo. “There’s a red carpet, by the way.”
“Thanks for the heads up,” I grumbled, loving the deep rumble of his laugh as he took me by the hand—fingers woven together—and led me onto the carpet. It was mostly uneventful, with everyone trying to get a snippet from easily one of the biggest names of the night.
He did well, deflecting questions on the carpet. “There are only two things I’m interested in discussing this evening, Eat the Earth and how lovely my date looks.” Flashing that million-dollar smile, he easily charmed the photographers and deftly turned their attention to me. “Smile and look like you’re with the most handsome man in the room,” he whispered in my ear.
With a laugh I looked up at him, hand on his chest. “We both know that I am.”
Heat covered his face and I found myself softening towards him. “You think I’m handsome?”
I rolled my eyes. “Nah, you’re a hideous beast monster with a big mole on the tip of your nose.”
With a loud laugh that quickly drew attention back to us, Ethan wrapped my hand around his bicep and guided me into the large, lavishly decorated ballroom. His palm grew moist against mine and a quick brush of my thumb over his wrist revealed a racing pulse. “I don’t want to do this.”
“You and me both buddy, but we’re here and I spent almost an hour getting ready for tonight so we’re doing this. Now,” I grabbed two champagne saucers from the passing waiter and put one in his hand. “Drink up and let’s start the night with a dance.”
He choked. “A dance?” His gaze cut to the dance floor where a handful of couples—with an average age of sixty—danced to the music. “People rarely dance at these events.”
“Probably why they’re so boring.” I finished my glass and set it down, waiting. Impatiently.
“Fine,” he groaned and pulled me through the crowd, smiling and waving at those who called out to him but never stopping until we were on the dance floor. Our bodies fit together perfectly, aside from the height difference, and Ethan spent the next ten minutes leading me around the floor as though we were floating. “Now we mingle,” he said it like a bad word.
“Ethan Mahoney, fans want to know how you’ve been after your meltdown on Samantha Stevens,” a gray-haired man with a paunch called out.
I stepped in front of Ethan and stuck my hand out, smiling at the man and the low-key cameraman beside him. “As you can see Ethan is fine and here to make sure the children of America have access to healthy, whole foods through his Eat the Earth charity.”
“And you are?”
“Just a concerned citizen who cares about healthy eating.” The man frowned, debated internally whether to try again but the determined set of my chin warned him off. “Enjoy your evening.”
“Damn you’re good.”
“You just have to give them nothing. It pisses them off more than anything. They want a reaction, any reaction.”
“And I was two seconds from giving it to him,” he grumbled.
“But you didn’t,” I reminded him as we approached a group of three couples. I stood beside Ethan and listened to him play the game, shoot the shit with other men just like him. It was strange to see this version of him up close. Though he was undoubtedly a master of his universe, this scene didn’t seem to fit him.
“If you’ll excuse me, I believe my date is itching to hit the dance floor again.”
I tuned in to the conversation when his hand gripped my hip. “There’s something about a man who can move on the dance floor,” I offered with a smile as the three women nodded their agreement. He twirled me onto the dance floor with flair and a heart stopping smile.
The floor cleared as a pulsing tango beat began and I looked up at Ethan, fully expecting him to escort me off the floor. Only he didn’t. One hand went to my back, searing me while the other grabbed my hand, and then we moved as one across the empty dance floor. Chest to chest and hip to hip, I followed his lead, smiling as he spun me out and back to him with a snap that had my pulse pounding in my ears. The music grew louder and our bodies moved faster, in sync as though this wasn’t the first time we’d danced the tango together. He dipped me backwards, hand tracing down my chest to grab my hand for another spin before the song ended. “Impressive moves, Miss Fix-it.”
I grinned, startled by the sound of applause, only to look up and find every eye in the room on us. “Right back atcha, GQ.”
He laughed and guided me to a table, where our glasses were quickly filled with wine. “I haven’t danced since, hell I can’t remember.”
“I’m always dancing. It’s a great way to boost endorphins.”
“So is sex,” he grumbled and I cut him a look.
“How’s that working out for you?”
He sipped his wine and I laughed at his annoyed expression. “Where’d you learn to tango?”
“Argentina, of course.”
“Of course,” he shook his head and groaned. “Incoming.”
I swiveled my head just as a leggy brunette stopped at the table right between me and Ethan. “Call me some time,” she purred, leaning forward to kiss him only to be met with his cheek.
He shook his head. “I’m not doing that right now.”
Her gaze cut to me and gave me a long assessing look before turning back to Ethan. “Doesn’t look that way to me.”
He shrugged. “Not my problem, is it?” She turned and stomped off in a huff and I stared at him. “What?”
“Maybe you should just be a jerk from the beginning. That way they’ll spend the night with you but won’t get their hopes up.” If given a chance I might take a night with him, but nothing longer. Falling for a guy like him was a recipe for heartache.
“With my money, it wouldn’t matter how big of an asshole I am. Access to all those zeroes would be worth it.” His tone was matter of fact. Cold. His words held no ego or pride, because it was just a fact.
“Yeah, well I guess you do make a pretty appealing package,” I told him honestly.
He laughed and I closed my eyes. His laugh was easily the best thing about him, I could listen to the sound of it all day. “And yet you’re not throwing yourself at me,” he leaned in and whispered the words in my ear, sending electric pulses throughout my body.
I nodded, tamping down the awareness it was impossible not to feel around a man like him. “First, because you’re a client. But second and most importantly, you’re not going to settle down because you’re not happy with the love of only one woman. You need every woman to love you.”
His expression grew dark. Angry as he drew back and stood. Then without a word he turned on his heels and walked out of the ballroom.
Leaving me to find my own way home.
So much for honesty.
***
Three days. That’s how many days had passed since I last saw or spoke with Ethan. He hadn’t showed up to any of our meeting spots and he didn’t pick up his phone or answer my messages. Though I was used to it--clients did it all the time when things got too real, they got upset and pulled back hoping I’d simply go away—it still pissed me off. But he had one thing right, I would go away. After five straight days of nothing, I’d terminate the contract. It meant a smaller fee but the hefty termination fee would make up for most of it.
While it did upset me when clients did this, I didn’t mope. I spent two hours each day waiting for him to show up until it became clear he wouldn’t, and then I used my time wisely. I cleaned my apartment, ran errands, surfed and talked to my dad.
I’d spent the third day strolling Venice Beach like a tourist, indulging in the little shops and cafes along the walk.
When Ethan stood me up on the fourth day, I was glad because it meant I could go visit my favorite people in the city. They all happened to live at Sunshine Daze retirement village so I stopped at a vegan pastry shop before dropping in. “Who’s up for manicures?”
“Misha honey, it’s been a couple weeks,” Edith’s soft voice pulled my attention to the corner where she sat with the Cunningham twins, Martha and Suzy.
“I went to unwind after a client and then my vacation was interrupted with a new one,” I explained because I tried to stop by once a week to spruce up the old girls and pluck the eyebrows of some of the flirtier old timers. It always felt great to visit them, to hear stories from their youth of love and war, friendship and families. They always made me laugh until my sides ached.
“I want to try that blue on my nails,” Suzy insisted, plucking the bottle from my plastic case.
“I’ll take red. They say that’s the color that drives men wild,” Edith enthused with a suggestive lift of her eyebrows as she puckered her already fire engine red lips.
Suzy laughed. “If a man is worried about your nail color, then you’re not drivin’ him wild enough, honey.” They all shared a laugh at that.
These women were like single twenty-year old’s and I had no doubt more sex happened inside this village than in all of Hollywood. “Try a red shirt or dress,” I suggested to Edith who gave me an appreciative nod. Edith, Suzy and Martha were The Golden Girls and Sex and the City before either of them were a thing. A red head, a brunette and a blond, all three sassy troublemakers with the libido of a thirty-year-old and I loved each of them as if they were my own.
“Honey when are you gonna settle down? If I had that face and that body, I’d have them all begging for it.” Martha shook her head as she looked at me, sending newly died chocolate curls flying around her head. “I long for the days I could go without a bra.” She grabbed a handful of breasts and lifted, letting them fall sadly back to her body. “See?”
