Escorting the Billionaire (The Escort Collection #1)

by Leigh James

  “I like your sweatpants better,” James said.

  “Me too.”

  James was wearing another suit, his hair fixed perfectly. He looked as if he was about to charge through a hundred corporate meetings, not attend his brother’s pre-wedding brunch.

  “Are you working today?” I asked.

  “I have some calls to make,” he said. “Other than that, I’ve had my schedule cleared.”

  “I’m free, too,” I said, joking, “If you want to hang out.”

  “Hang out?” James asked and laughed.

  “Yes,” I said. “When was the last time you had nothing to do all day?” And the last time I had no one to do all day?

  “I don’t remember,” he said.

  “Me either,” I said. I sat down and drank my coffee; I had to face his mother and her collarbones soon. I needed to be properly caffeinated. “So let’s do it. After brunch we can change. We could go to the park, walk around…we could probably go to a Red Sox game. If you’re into that sort of thing.”

  “You like the Red Sox?” he asked. He was looking at me as if I had three heads, all of which were glorious and gorgeous.

  “I was born and raised here, and I have a beating heart,” I said and crossed myself. “Of course I like the Red Sox.”

  He was already on his phone, tapping away, probably ordering tickets. Men were actually a lot easier to manage than they liked to believe. Even the super-rich ones, apparently.

  “The game’s home—it’s at four,” he said, looking at me hopefully. “Does that work for you?”

  “Your wish is my command,” I said. I decided I was going to make the next two weeks fun, whether he ever fucked me or not, whether I had cried alone in my bed last night or not.

  Game face, Audrey, game face, I chanted to myself.

  * * *

  I definitely needed it for brunch.

  “I hate brunch,” James complained as he opened the door for me. We were at another hotel, a stuffy one, and the clientele was beautifully dressed, just like us.

  “The concept of brunch? Or brunch itself?” I asked.

  “Both. Fucking waste of time,” he said and grabbed my hand.

  “It’s just two hours—and there’s booze,” I reminded him, trying to be upbeat. That lasted until we got to the table and Celia Preston patted the empty chair next to her and motioned for me to join her.

  I didn’t even let myself look at James. I just squeezed his hand and went to sit next to the captain of the firing squad.

  “Good morning, Mrs. Preston. You look lovely,” I said. She was wearing a flowered blouse and diamond studs so large they looked like ice cubes.

  “As do you, Audrey,” she said. She smiled at me without warmth.

  I smiled at James’s father, Robert, who was sitting to her right. “Good morning,” I said.

  “You take good care of my son last night?” he asked in a ribald tone.

  They were both watching me.

  “Of course, sir,” I said and smiled at them without missing a beat. “I took his bourbon away and made him go straight to bed. And look at him. He barely has a hangover.”

  Mr. Preston snorted and went back to stirring his coffee. When I’d met him last night, all he’d done was stare at my tits. Apparently he couldn’t do that with his wife sitting next to him, so I was dismissed as no longer of interest.

  Phew.

  But Celia was still staring at me.

  “We didn’t have much time to talk last night,” she said, “with all the wedding excitement.”

  “I know,” I said. Thank God, I thought.

  “Tell me about your family. Todd mentioned that you’re from New Hampshire.”

  “I don’t have any family,” I said. “My parents died several years ago. I don’t have any siblings or cousins. Both my parents were only children, and so am I.” I briefly wondered what it would be like if that were true, if I had no one left to disgrace me or depend on me.

  It would be a mixed bag, I decided.

  “How sad,” Mrs. Preston said.

  “Not really,” I said. “But I’m afraid my family wouldn’t have been interesting to you anyway—we weren’t society. My father owned a shoe store, and my mother was a nurse. Very middle class. Very boring and under the radar, unlike your family.”

  She smiled briefly at my compliment that was not a compliment.

  “I’m sure that James’s lifestyle must seem very glamorous to you,” she said.

  “His house is a lot more glamorous than my dorm,” I admitted.

  “Is it serious between you and my son? He doesn’t tell us anything,” she said.

  I smiled at her and tried to decide on a course of action. With lying, I’d found it was always safest to tell the version closest to the truth.

  “He’s out of my league, Mrs. Preston,” I said. “I’m sure he’ll figure it out sooner rather than later. But right now, I’m still the new and the shiny. We’re just having fun.”

  Some approval actually crept into her smile. “Well, stay new and shiny until we get through this wedding,” she said. To my shock, it appeared that she was supporting me. “He hasn’t been this easy to get along with in years.”

  * * *

  “I think your mother doesn’t actually hate me,” I told James later. We were back at the apartment, and I was digging through the clothes Elena had sent for me while he sat on my bed, watching me.

  I was looking for a normal pair of jeans, something that wasn’t geared toward high-society functions that I could breathe in. I found nothing of the kind, so I settled for a simple cotton dress that probably cost a thousand dollars.

  “In fact, she might even be rooting for me,” I said. “And your father didn’t look at my tits once. I consider brunch an outright success.”

  James shook his head at me and laughed. “You asked me what my best outcome was yesterday—this is it,” he said. “I had no idea when I hired you that you were going to be able to work magic on my family, but I’m not complaining.”

  “I think I should charge you extra,” I said. “Now go change. We don’t have to see anyone in your family for the rest of the day, and you don’t have to swindle people out of their land or take their money or whatever it is you usually do. Take off that damn suit.”

  “I thought I was the boss,” he said. He stood up and towered over me, making my heart stop.

  I smiled at him anyway. “Will you please take off that damn suit? Sir? I would like to go to the park and get a hot pretzel. And then go to Fenway and drink some beer. If that’s okay with you.”

  He traced the outline of my jaw with his finger, and I stopped breathing. My skin lit up on fire underneath his touch. “It’s okay with me,” he said darkly, and strode out of my room.

  Tease! I wanted to scream after him as he headed down the hall. Instead I just smiled to myself, enjoying the moment for once, and changed my clothes.

  * * *

  The Commons were glorious. The trees were all in bloom, there were flowers everywhere, and it was warm. Usually in Boston, it was either winter or humid, except for a brief respite during the fall.

  But today was the perfect day.

  James had changed into jeans and a T-shirt. I finally got a good look at what his upper body looked like, and I almost wished I hadn’t. His biceps were enormous. I tried not to imagine what it would feel like to have them holding me down. He grabbed my hand as we walked, and I raised an eyebrow at him.

  “We’re not on display here,” I said. “Unless that’s Todd and Evie lurking behind that bush.”

  “Ha ha.” He looked around and nervously scrutinized a nearby bush. “You’re kidding, right?”

  “Right,” I said, laughing at him.

  Just to test him, I tried to pull my hand away.

  He wouldn’t let me.

  “We should stay in character. Just in case,” he said, pulling me closer to him. His grip was firm, and I was again reminded of those big biceps.

 
; “Would you like a pretzel?” he asked when we came up on a cart.

  “Yes, please.”

  “Would you like to ride the swan boats?” he asked a few minutes later.

  “Really?” I asked. He nodded at me. My whole life I’d lived here, I’d never been on them. “I’d love to.”

  James went and bought tickets and came back, grinning at me. “I’m not usually a swan boat kind of guy, but I’ve been watching these damn things for years and never had a reason to get on them.”

  There were lots of noisy children and harried mothers around us; James stood out in the crowd. No, he was not a swan boat sort of guy. I thought that it was sweet of him to offer.

  We got into the boat and went back and forth a few times. It was anticlimactic and perfect.

  “Did you grow up here?” I asked.

  “I did,” James said. “Right over on Beacon Hill.” He jerked his thumb toward the other side of the park, where the Cheers bar stood on the corner.

  “But you never came to the swan boats?” I asked.

  He shrugged. “Not that I remember. Maybe one of our nannies took us. Could be.”

  We were quiet for a second. I wanted to ask him all about his nannies, but I didn’t want to pry.

  “What about you?” he asked. “Where did you grow up?”

  “In the lovely city of East Boston,” I said. “I couldn’t wait to get out of there and move to Southie. I felt like I hit the big time.”

  “Do you have a family?” he asked. “Aside from your pretend dead one in New Hampshire?”

  I felt a lump form in my throat—those were the exact questions I’d wanted to avoid. But he’d shared his family with me, so I had to be fair. I would still leave out the more exciting bits.

  “My mother still lives in East Boston,” I said, not pausing long enough to give details. “And I have a brother. Tommy. We’re very close. He lives in a special-needs group home in Southie. It’s really great. They’ve been taking good care of him, and I get to see him all the time.”

  “How old is he?” James asked.

  “Twenty-four,” I said. “Two years older than me.”

  “Does your mother pay to keep him there?”

  I shook my head no. “I do,” I said, and I heard a note of pride creep into my voice.

  “You’re taking care of him?”

  “Yeah,” I said. “My mom couldn’t afford it, but she couldn’t keep him at home. It wasn’t safe.”

  “Wasn’t safe how?” he asked. He clearly had been curious about me, and unlike me, he wasn’t afraid to pry.

  “Let’s just put it this way—my mother could drink your mother under the table,” I said.

  “That’s saying something,” James said.

  “I know.” I shrugged at him. “Clearly, I don’t love my job. But it’s given me a way to take care of my brother. I couldn’t ever afford his home if I was waiting tables at IHOP.”

  James gave me a sad smile. “It doesn’t seem fair,” he said.

  “Duh,” I said.

  He laughed at that. “And your father?”

  I shook my head. “Never met him,” I said.

  James nodded and pulled me to him. He kissed the top of my hair, sending unwelcome shock waves through me. “I’m glad you’re here with me,” he said, “and the fact that I’m here and glad about anything is a fucking miracle.”

  I smiled at him, but inside, there was no smile. There was that hope again. And I knew, based on yesterday, that when my common sense got its hands on that hope, it was going to be ugly.

  James

  The fact that she wanted to go to a game was almost enough to make me try to buy her outright. But the fact that she was an escort with a heart of gold?

  She was fucking killing me.

  Normally in a situation like this, I would have been skeptical. I expected the alcoholic mother and the absent father. But the brother in the group home? If she’d been playing me, I’d either say that she was pushing too hard or that she was predictable.

  But Audrey was telling me the truth. How did I know? Because she offered nothing, and because she clearly didn’t want my sympathy. She wanted to hide it from me.

  I understood her perfectly.

  I called Kai, and we went to the game straight from the Commons. We had box seats, bought from an old friend for an exorbitant fee earlier this morning. “These are great seats, James,” Audrey said, nodding in approval. “Killer.”

  “I’m glad you like them,” I said.

  “You know what else I’d like?” she asked me, grinning.

  I would have given her anything she asked for right then.

  “A beer, James. A big one.”

  We ordered enormous beers and later, hot dogs. To my delight, Audrey completely ignored me during the game. She stuffed her hot dog into her mouth unselfconsciously and watched every play.

  She even recognized Johnny Pesky when he came out for an awards presentation at halftime. “That’s Johnny Pesky!” she exclaimed, practically spitting out her beer. “This is so fucking awesome!”

  After she calmed down enough to watch the last couple innings, I let myself have the extreme and very dangerous pleasure of putting my arm around her. And just like that, she settled in next to me, as if she belonged there.

  * * *

  Back at my house, we had a glass of wine.

  “What’s on the docket for tomorrow?” Audrey asked, yawning.

  “I have to be fitted for my tuxedo. And then there’s some sort of ladies’ tea, followed by another dinner.”

  “Do I have to go to the tea?” she asked. She looked wary.

  I sighed and looked at her. “Evie asked my mother to include you,” I said. “But I’d be happy to say no if that’s what you’d prefer.”

  She put her chin up. “I can handle them,” she said bravely. “I think.”

  “I don’t care if you go,” I said, but I knew that my mother and Evie would be all over me about it if she didn’t. I think they wanted to inspect her more closely. Fortunately, Audrey had proven herself up to the challenge.

  “It’s only for a few hours. They’ll just be talking about dresses. Or whatever it is Evie and her douchebag cousins talk about right before one of them gets married.”

  “I think I can handle that. If not, I’ll just text you and make you come rescue me.” She laughed, and I poured her some more wine.

  “Is there anything you need to do tomorrow?” I asked.

  “I’d love to go see my brother in the morning,” she said, “if that doesn’t interfere with anything.”

  “Of course. I’ll have Kai drive you. We’re going to Copley Plaza for the fitting, so I can walk.”

  “Thank you. That’s really nice, James,” she said, suddenly sounding formal. She hopped down off her barstool. “I should probably get going to bed. Thank you for today, though. It was great. Those were amazing seats.”

  She smiled at me and started heading toward her room, her sandals clicking awkwardly on the hardwood floors. Aside from that noise, the silence boomed around us.

  “Audrey.”

  She turned around and looked at me, biting her lip.

  “Can you sleep with me tonight? No sex,” I said, holding up my hands. “I promised you—and even if I hadn’t, I wouldn’t ask you like that. I just want you to stay with me.”

  “Like a sleepover?” she asked, a little skeptically, but she looked pleased.

  “Yes, like a sleepover. Just don’t try to put a mud mask on me or put warm water on my hand. That would piss me off,” I said.

  “Let me change. Your room or mine?”

  “Mine,” I said. “I have the best bed.”

  “Of course you do,” she said.

  * * *

  She came in a few minutes later in those pink sweatpants again, her face scrubbed clean of makeup. She looked so beautiful and innocent it made my heart actually hurt, and I wasn’t technically sure that I even had a heart.

  “Hey,” s
he said and sat on the edge of my bed. “You’re still in your clothes.”

  “I wasn’t sure what you were going to wear,” I admitted. “I wanted to show you some solidarity and dress similarly.” I got up and pulled out an old Wharton T-shirt and a pair of flannel pajama bottoms. “Is this okay?” I asked.

  “It’s fine, James. I approve of the flannel.” She scooted up on the bed and grabbed the remote off the side table. She turned the flatscreen on and switched the channel to NESN, the New England Sports Network.

  I was pretty sure that I still had a heart because it felt right then like I loved her, at least a little.

  * * *

  Later, after an hour of sports news, we turned out the lights.

  “No sex?” she asked.

  “That’s right,” I said. I paused. “Why are you asking?”

  “I just don’t want this to be awkward. If we’re not doing it, let’s go to sleep.” She rolled over onto her side, toward me.

  I rolled over toward her, too.

  Eight hours later, I woke up holding her hand.

  Audrey

  James was gone when I woke up the next morning. Sleeping next to him had been nice and horrible all at the same time. I loved being with him, but I’d wanted to be closer. In other words, I’d wanted him on top of me and inside me and behind me and all sorts of other places. I’d had to push those images, appealing as they were, and the heat I’d felt between us away last night. Just so I could get some sleep.

  Still, we were making progress. I had no idea what that meant except that it thrilled me. It thrilled me, and I was fucked. Our contract was up at the end of two weeks, and I would be left with only the memory of him. The memory of him putting his arm around my shoulder at Fenway Park, which was now in my top-five favorite guy memories of all time.

  I didn’t have the other four. Not yet.

  I could still feel his touch on me now, and I imagined that I would feel it forever, even after he was long gone. The ghost of him, the memory, would be a blessing and a curse, I knew.