Escorting the Actress (The Escort Collection Book 2) (13 page)

I gulped. "When?"

"He has meetings over the next few days, so first thing in the morning on Sunday."

"Awesome," I said, a pit of dread forming in my stomach. "Just awesome."

M
y stomach growled
, and I looked at my phone. It was only five, too early to just get room service and go to bed. "Can we just go get a quick dinner then call it a night? This has been the longest day ever. I'm beat." I scrubbed my hands over my face.

"Of course," Lowell said.

We didn't ask each other about our simultaneous parental phone calls. I guessed hers had probably gone as poorly as mine—she looked as tired as I felt.

Evan picked us up and took us to the North End, the Italian section of Boston. It was a relief to be there, out and largely anonymous on the East Coast, without worrying about fifty photographers waiting to ambush us.

The North End was perfectly charming with narrow streets, cobblestoned sidewalks, and cafes with their windows open wide. After several failed attempts to pull away, Lowell held my hand without objection. We wandered around the neighborhood, enjoying the delicious smells and reading the different menus. My fatigue eventually evaporated, and I relaxed, relishing the time with Lowell.

We finally decided on a tiny restaurant on the corner. They served us red wine in small plastic cups. The day melted away as we shared stuffed clams and fresh, hot bread.

After our entrees arrived, Lowell twirled her black pasta and moaned with pleasure when she had a bite. "Why do carbs have to be so good?" She eyed her plate, which was filled with homemade pasta and smothered in puttanesca sauce.

"Because God wants you to eat," I said right before I stuffed a large chunk of lobster meat into my mouth. God was on my mind at the moment. I'd ordered the Lobster
Fra Diavolo
, and it was so good, I was pretty sure that I'd died and gone to heaven.

Lowell stole a piece of lobster from my plate. I shot her a look, and she raised her eyebrow, daring me to object.

"You
said
God wants me to eat. I'm just following orders."

"Don't be fresh," I warned. "I might have to spank you when we get home."

Lo spluttered and coughed while I laughed. She took a sip of wine and collected herself. She cleared her throat and tried to look all-business. "So… what did your dad want this time? What on Earth does he want to talk to both of us about?"

I didn't want to tell her everything that Pierce had said. If she knew, she'd pack me up and deliver me to my father in a suit, ready to go to work first thing in the morning. Not because she wanted to get rid of me—at least I hoped she didn't. She'd do it because she was a good person and would put my needs before hers.

I wasn't going back to my father's company. Not yet. But I did have to find a way to protect Lowell from whatever my father had planned. Or find a way for him to understand that hurting her was completely off-limits.

"He probably wants to make us an offer. Or deliver a threat."

Lowell shrugged. "He can't make my situation much worse."

I watched her for a beat. "Of course he can. He can out me as an escort who is tangentially related to you."

She held my gaze. "He won't do that. You already said he won't do that to you."

I snorted. "You mean he won't do that to himself."

"Kyle." She put her hand on top of mine. "Your dad loves you. I remember how difficult he can be—I watched what he did to my mom. And I know he cut you off. But I think he did it because he was trying to protect you."

I pulled my hand away. "You don't have to make me feel any worse about it. I know what a fuckup I was. Am."

"You're not a fuckup. Look at me."

I raised my eyes back to hers.

"And give me back your hand, dammit," she commanded.

I did as I was told, happy and angry at the same time. She was about to deliver a lethal blow. I knew it.

"You made mistakes. You're paying for them." She cracked a smile. "Your father wants something better for you. That's what I want too."

"I'm not gonna leave you and get you fired. Lucas would have a fit if we parted ways right now, and so would Shirley and Gigi. You know that's true." I watched her face. "It'd be the end of everything we've been trying to do. I don't want it to end that way—do you?"

She shook her head. "No, of course not. But I don't really see what other options we have. I want what's best for you."

"You can't make me leave you," I said.

She smiled, but it was a sad smile that made my insides ache. "No. I guess I can't, huh?"

A
fter we were back
at the hotel, I clicked on ESPN and watched from the couch. Lowell paced, probably worrying about my father or the sleeping arrangements. Or both.

"Lowell, stop pacing."

"Huh?" She looked at me and wrung her hands.

I patted the couch next to me. "Come here and tell me what's the matter."

She sat stiffly next to me. "I don't want you to say no to your father. And I don't want to get in any more trouble with Lucas and Shirley. And there's only one bed here." She miserably jutted her chin toward the over-the-top bedroom.

Oh, what I would do to you in that four-poster bed
. My cock twitched.
Stop it,
I ordered. She was upset. I didn't want to scare her away—or worse, take advantage of her vulnerability.

"You can have the bed. I'll take the couch," I said.

She still looked miserable.

"About the rest of it—we'll just have to get my dad to understand that what we're doing has an expiration date." I swallowed hard at the thought. "Once he understands that I
will
eventually come to work for him, that should reduce his drama."

"But is he gonna let you stay with me for that long? Until the
Hearts Wide Open
premiere? Because I think that's the thing Shirley's the most concerned with."

I shrugged. "If he wants to get what he wants, he'll have to agree." I said it with confidence, but I knew my father—when he wanted something, he wanted it
now
. Not a few weeks from now. "Whatever happens, we'll deal with it."

She nodded, but she looked troubled. "Let's talk about it more in the morning. I'm gonna go to bed." She gently kissed my cheek, making desire tear through me. She stood. "Good night, Kyle."

"Good night, Lowell."

If she was feeling what I was—the unmistakable, almost painful longing—I couldn't believe she would walk away. But she did.

She looked at me one last time at the bedroom door, a mixture of desire and regret on her face. "You can have the bedroom tomorrow night, okay?"

"Okay." I nodded.
But only if you're in it.

I
lay awake that night
. I could feel him on the other side of the door. My body, heavy with lust, was practically screaming for him.

Shut up,
I warned it.
We're in enough trouble as it is.

I hadn't told Kyle that my mother might be coming home soon; I didn't want to put him any more on edge than he already was. Besides, this was my mother we were talking about. She could end up staying in Japan for another month, going to a random
reiki
retreat or finding some Japanese businessman to fawn over.

When I slept, I slept fitfully, dreaming of Kyle naked and on top of me, his big biceps holding me down.
Oh yes, yes, yes
—

"Yes!" I yelled, waking myself.

I sat straight up in bed, my breath heaving, early morning light coming through the window. I looked around, flustered and wishing that either the dream had been real or I could somehow manage to stop craving Kyle's hands on me.

"Are you okay in there?" Kyle called.

He heard me. Just perfect.

"I'm good," I croaked, embarrassed beyond belief. I looked at the clock—six o'clock. "I'm gonna go for a run."
And burn off some of this sexual energy before I burst into flames.

Kyle knocked on the door and poked his head through. "I'll come with you. I can't sleep for shit."

I nodded warily, wondering what he'd been dreaming about and hoping he couldn't read the guilty look on my face.

We ran in the Boston Commons, past the quiet swan boats, past the empty benches still covered in dew.

"Do you wanna go for a long run today?" Kyle asked.

"Uh-huh. I think that would be good. I seem to have some extra nervous energy."

He snorted. "If that's what you wanna call it."

I didn't ask him what he meant. Strategically.

We ran for about six miles, looping back to Newbury Street. I stopped on the corner near a coffee shop.

My breathing was ragged. "Well, that hurt." At least I had something to focus on other than my yearning and frustration.

Kyle put his hands on his hips and bent over. "I know." Sweat made his shirt cling to his back, and I could see every muscle. He stood back up and caught me looking at him.

"What," he said, not bothering to make it a question.

I just opened and closed my mouth, like a guppy at a loss for words.

He gave me that shit-eating grin and came toward me. "You enjoying the view, boss?" He put his hands on my hips and pulled me to him.

I tried to pull back. "I'm all sweaty. And don't call me boss."

He held me firmly in place, and it became more than just the run that created heat between us. I struggled to catch my breath.

"One of these days, Lowell Barton," he said and grazed his lips against mine. "One of these days you aren't going to pull away from me."

I just gulped.

He released me and looked at me darkly. "Let's get some coffee."

I nodded and followed him obediently. For once.

I
called
Tori a little while later, while Kyle was in the shower.

"What were you thinking?" I hissed as I stalked around the too-sexy hotel room. "This suite is a sex trap!"

"Oh, lighten up," Tori said, and I could just picture her twirling her hair. "It's not a sex trap. It's just the honeymoon suite."

"This. Is no. Honeymoon," I said through gritted teeth.

"Aren't you having at least a little fun?" Tori asked. "The pictures from this morning looked a little intense though…"

"What pictures?"

"The ones on
XYZ.
Didn't you see them?"

"Hold on." I ran for my tablet and fired it up, clicking quickly to the gossip website. We were on the front page. It was a shot from earlier this morning, with Kyle's hands on my hips. He was leaning over me, and his intense expression gave me the shivers all over again. "Huh."

"Huh?" Tori sounded confused. "You didn't know the photographer was there?"

"No." I tried to remember the people around us on the street. Things had been so intense between us at that moment, and I'd been so beat from our run, I hadn't even noticed anyone else.

"You didn't think there were any photographers around and you were looking at each other like that? You're
so
totally sleeping together!" Tori sounded triumphant.

"I'm
not
sleeping with him!" I fumed.

"It didn't just… slip in there? Even once?" She sounded crushed. "You can tell, me! I won't breathe a word!"

"No." My teeth were clamped together so hard, I was worried I would get lockjaw. "It didn't just
slip in
. I gotta go."

I clicked off my phone and stomped to the bathroom, still clutching my tablet. I knocked on the bathroom door while Kyle was in the shower.

"Come on in," he called.

He peered at me through the shower door, and I tried not to look at his full frontal. But I might have peeked a little…

The news was good. Very, very good. Or very, very bad, depending on how I looked at it.

I kept looking at it.

"I knew you'd come around," Kyle said seductively.

"I have not
come
around. I haven't come anywhere." I mentally slapped myself for using the word
come
.

Kyle laughed as I got redder, clutching the tablet until it almost shattered.

Oh yeah—the tablet.

"There is a reason for my visit," I said, keeping my eyes off of him and trying to sound dignified. I hit the screen, and the picture of us came up. The headline read:
Trouble in Paradise?

"Someone followed us here." I held up the screen toward him, in front of my face. For better or for worse, part of him was dangling
below
the screen, so I could still get a pretty good look…

"Lowell?" He paused for a second. "Lowell, stop looking at my dick."

I moved the screen down so I couldn't see it anymore. "I wasn't," I lied. "And it's not like it's so big I can see it from here, anyway."

"Oh, but it
is
." There was a smirk in his voice.

I continued to hold the screen in front of my face and talk through it, ignoring his taunt and trying not to investigate his naked body further. "My point is that someone from
XYZ
followed us here. We need to be more careful. I don't want anyone tracing us back to your father."

I heard him turn off the water. A second later, his dripping hand pushed the tablet screen down from my face.

"Okay." He proceeded to towel-dry his hair as the rest of the water dripped off his glorious body onto the tiled floor.

I peered down. "Um…"

"You want something else?" he asked, grinning.

"No," I said, backing out of the room. "No, I do not."

I closed the door and flopped down on the bed, exhausted. I'd never lied so much as I had just then.

"
S
ince we're being followed
, we should take advantage of it." Kyle was dressed in camouflage shorts and a
Hawaii
T-shirt.

For some reason, I found that combination mouth-watering. I followed him with my eyes as he paced restlessly. "Okay."

He looked at me with mild surprise.

If we were going to go out and put on a show, that meant I got to feel his hands on me for the rest of the day. That meant kissing all over town. That meant all the things I wanted—well, most of the things I wanted—without having to feel conflicted and guilty about it. It would also give me the opportunity to work on him about going to work for Pierce. I hadn't had the heart to broach the topic yet this morning, but I needed to.

"I mean, we absolutely should." I stood eagerly. "We don't see your father again until tomorrow. There's no way they can trace us to him today."

He held out his hand to me, and I took it, excitement coursing through me.
Mine for the day.
I was surprised by the thread of sadness that laced the thought.

This was just for now, but I wanted more.

I wanted more, and I could never have it.

E
ither Boston was a romantic city
, or it was just us. As the day progressed, I couldn't tell anymore, and it seemed to matter less and less.

First we went to breakfast at an outdoor cafe on Newbury Street. We had fresh orange juice, tomato-and-spinach eggs Benedict, and cheese-covered grits.

"I hope nobody gets a shot of this food," I said through a delicious mouthful. "Lucas'll have a fit."

"You ran six miles today." Kyle leaned over and kissed me quickly. Heat shot through me, and his eyes searched mine. "Remember?"

I nodded and leaned back over to kiss him again. I was taking this further than I should, but I couldn't help myself. He was only mine for right now. I pulled back and he was still looking at me the same way, his eyes searching mine.

"You going for an Oscar today?"

I shrugged. "Something like that. Maybe a Golden Globe."

After breakfast, we wandered the city streets with his arm draped over me. Going for a walk for him like this was an event. Every part of my body tingled because I was next to him, his body pressed against mine. I'd never felt this before—this alive, aware of every second—and I didn't want it to end. I clung to him all day, knowing that when he wasn't next to me anymore, it would hurt.

We went to Faneuil Hall and watched the street performers, then we headed into the park and watched the children ride the carousel. Unlike LA, Boston didn't house many celebrities. No one seemed to recognize me, and I welcomed the anonymity. At one point we stopped at a tiny restaurant for raw oysters, clam chowder, and Bloody Marys.

Kyle threw his arm around me again as we sauntered back to the hotel that afternoon.

"This has been the perfect day. I don't want it to end," I said and leaned against him.

"Then let's not let it end, yet." His lips twitched into a smile. "Did you bring a dress?"

I nodded.

"Good. Then let's go take showers and get ready to go out. I'm taking my beautiful fake-girlfriend on a proper date."