Hunk for the Holidays (11 page)

She glanced around, then blinked a few times to clear her vision. But the ceiling and room stayed the same.

Okay, so this wasn’t her parents’ house. It was somewhere she had never been before. Somewhere with no pictures or photographs or knickknacks or scented candles. Just a bunch of huge furniture. An oak chest of drawers, the big bed, and a nightstand with a lamp—her eyes widened. A lamp with a red strapless bra hung over the shade.

Just that quickly, it all came back to her.

Cassie squeezed her eyes shut and moaned as the bits and pieces of the night before flashed across the back of her eyelids. A slinky red dress—a pile of condoms—a hunk in a tux—a flash of white teeth—whiskey-colored eyes—soft, warm kisses—a muscular chest beneath a crisp white shirt—the deep satisfaction of having a hard, sexy man beneath her.

Her eyes slowly opened.

Good Lord, what had she done?

She vaguely remembered stumbling out of the bathroom in a towel and staring down at a sleeping man before falling facedown on the mattress next to him and passing out. Obviously, an eighteen-month dry spell was no match
for eight glasses of champagne and a good thirty minutes of puking. But a few hours of sleep had changed all that. Waking up to a phenomenal body in a sexy tux was hard to resist for any woman, but when compared to a pulsing showerhead it was impossible. Within minutes, she’d had his shirt unbuttoned and her fingers skating over his chest and abdomen. There wasn’t an ounce of body fat on him. Just smooth, tanned skin covering lean, sculptured muscles. It had been so easy to unhook the waistband of his pants. Easier still to slip a hand down the front of his boxer briefs.

Her actions had surprised her. She was aggressive and bossy in bed, but never that aggressive. She liked to be in charge and give the orders, but usually the orders were all based on what she wanted done to her. She had never been overly concerned about pleasing a man. Of course, she hadn’t been overly concerned this morning either. The oral sex wasn’t about him. It was more about her desire. Like an Atkins dieter in a bakery, she tried to make up for what was lacking in her life by gorging herself while she had the chance. Once satisfied, she’d fallen fast asleep, unconcerned with the carnage she left behind. Or whether or not her partner was as satisfied as she was. She thought he had been. But she really couldn’t say.

From the kitchen came the sound of breaking glass followed by a mumbled curse. Cassie jerked the covers closer to her neck, suddenly feeling very naked. And extremely embarrassed. She didn’t want to confront the man she’d acted like such a sex-crazed slut with. She wanted to slip unnoticed out the front door and never have to see him again.

Unfortunately, James didn’t seem like the type of guy who would let a woman walk out his door without a goodbye. Especially after sex. Goodbyes after sex probably went hand in hand with door opening and driving.

Damn. Why couldn’t she have gotten turned on by one of the younger escorts who probably wouldn’t have cared less if she ducked out after sex? In fact, they probably would’ve beaten her to it.

A cheerful whistling started. It sounded like that Christmas song by Mariah Carey. She sat up and stared fearfully at the open bedroom door.

Get a grip, Cassie. Obviously, he isn’t feeling embarrassed, so stop acting like you’re in high school and pull yourself together. So you jumped him and screwed his brains out. With his profession and looks, it can’t be the first time.

All she needed to do was act nonchalant, as if nothing special had taken place. Especially hot and heavy sex that had nearly set her hair on fire. She would get up and get dressed and ask for a ride back to her car. Then she would never have to see his face again.

It was a shame.

Timidly, she removed the sheet and placed her feet to the floor. The microwave beeped above the whistling, and she almost jumped through her skin. The bacon now smelled a little burnt, but the other smell was heavenly. Coffee. Strong, wonderful coffee. How she would love a cup right about then.

But the coffee would have to wait.

She looked around the room for her dress. It rested on the back of a blue chair along with her underwear.
She hurried across the room and grabbed her panties. A sound in the kitchen caused her to pause. With only one leg in the skinny little scrap, she glanced back at the bedroom door. Crap, she should’ve closed it. Too late now. She would just have to be quick, which wasn’t easy after a night with eight glasses of champagne and strenuous sexual activity. She moved like her mother had after hemorrhoid surgery.

Getting the piece of dental-floss panties on wasn’t too bad, but the strapless bra was a different story. Why hadn’t Amy gotten her one that clasped in the front? And who had invented the hooks from hell?

A throat cleared, and she froze with her back and bare butt to the door and her hands gripping both sides of her bra.

“You need some help?”

Acting nonchalant was a lot harder than it had seemed a few minutes earlier.

“No, I think I’ve got it.” She continued to fumble with the hooks while wondering if her blush covered both sets of cheeks.

“Here.” Suddenly James was right there behind her, smelling like clean, spicy soap and fragrant coffee. He took the bra out of her hands and handed her a steaming mug. She stood like Lot’s solidified wife with the mug in her hand while he slipped the bra over her breasts and, with very little effort, hooked it together.

“There,” he said, acting as if it was something he did every day.

It probably was.
Earth to Cassie; he’s an escort.
Considering the nice house he lived in, the man had probably
clasped and unclasped thousands of bras. The thought pulled her out of her embarrassed trance, and she handed the mug back to him, picked up her dress, and slipped it over her head. It was backward, but she wasn’t about to take it off again.

“Thanks,” she said as she took the mug back.

Those golden eyes of his looked a little hot and glassy as he smiled down at her. “Anytime.”

She took a sip of coffee, burned her tongue, and grimaced.

“It’s hot,” he said.

“Right.” She ran her teeth over her scalded tongue and glared at him.

He studied her, and those eyes turned hotter. “You want me to kiss it and make it better?”

Everything inside of her pooled together into one simmering mass. She felt limp and warm and dizzy. God, the man looked even more delicious in full daylight. He wore a cream cable-knit sweater with a turtleneck that framed his smooth, strong jaw and brushed the curls of brown hair at the nape of his neck. Last night his hair had been slicked back and styled. Today, it was mussed and sexy. A lock fell over his forehead. Her fingers tingled with the need to reach up and brush it back.

And her fingers weren’t the only thing tingling. No wonder the man had such nice things. Women probably spent their life savings just to have the pleasure of looking at him. She had to admit that he was one fine piece of art.

She pulled her gaze away from him and looked around for her purse. She spotted it on the dresser and walked over to pick it up. “I really need to be going.”

“What’s your hurry?” he asked, then nodded at the purse with a knowing grin. “I thought you threw all the condoms away.”

For the second time that morning, Cassie’s face heated up. “I lied.”

James tipped his head back and laughed. It was a hearty laugh, one that came straight from a man’s gut. She couldn’t help but smile. Looking at him, she thought that maybe losing her entire life savings would be well worth keeping this man around for a while.

“A while” was the key word. After her money ran out, so would he.

He winked at her. “I’m glad you lied.”

Cassie opened her mouth to say something, but she didn’t know what. “I’m glad I lied too” just didn’t seem like enough. Or maybe too much. So instead she nodded and looked around for a place to set down the coffee that was still too hot. With the top of the dresser covered by his tuxedo shirt and tie, she couldn’t find a spot. So she handed it back to him.

“Look, I need to be going.”

A look of disbelief came into his eyes. “So that’s it?” James sounded extremely offended. It took a moment to figure out why.

The tip.

Of course he was offended. He had endured a puking nympho and he expected to be compensated for it. She couldn’t blame him. She gave her masseuse a huge tip, and all the guy did was rub her muscles. This man had rubbed a whole lot more. Unfortunately, she didn’t have anything in her purse but a pile of condoms. Which he
probably could use, but wouldn’t appreciate as much as money. Besides, she couldn’t stand the thought of him using them on another woman.

Which brought up a good question: How many clients did James have in one day? As soon as he dropped off Cassie, would he be on his way to another desperate woman who was tired of her showerhead? A woman who wasn’t as bossy, could hold her champagne, and knew how to tip.

Cassie knew how to tip too. Just not for sex. If she gave twenty percent for a hot wax, should she give the same for hot sex? Of course, a wax job took no more than an hour and hurt like hell. She had been with James for a lot longer than that and enjoyed every minute of it. Did escorts charge overtime? And if they did, when did it start? Midnight? Two a.m.?

There was no use worrying about it now. She would have to wait until he took her back to the office. Unfortunately, all she had at the office were credit cards. And she was pretty sure he didn’t take those. She kept a couple hundred in her underwear drawer at her apartment, but that meant she’d have to tell him where she lived. Surprisingly, the thought didn’t bother her as much as it had with the other escorts. James just didn’t seem like the stalker type.

He probably had women stalking him.

Cassie cleared her throat. So how did one broach an indelicate and embarrassing subject? Straight on, she guessed.

“I don’t have any money with me.”

He went from looking offended to looking confused.

She swallowed. “So if you could take me home…”

The offended look came back with a touch of anger. “Oh, right, you don’t have any money for the cab.” He crossed his arms. “As if I’d let you take a cab.”

The entire cab thing threw her, but she just couldn’t bring herself to explain that she wasn’t worried about the money for a cab as much as the money for hot sex. So she kept her mouth shut and decided he would have to be angry for a little while longer. At least, until he got her home.

After what seemed like a good five minutes, James took a deep breath and slowly released it as if he had come to terms with the fact that he wasn’t going to get one extra penny for their sexual encounter. It had to be a real blow to his ego.

“Okay, Ms. McPherson.” He held out a hand for her to precede him to the door. “Your wish is my command.”

Cassie did have a wish. A wish that wasn’t likely to be granted. Especially when it concerned a certain sexy escort not being an escort at all, but rather, being just a regular guy who happened to like her as much as she liked him.

Chapter Nine

The side streets were slick and icy, but James maneuvered through them without any problems, which was pretty good since he drove with one hand. In the other, he held a scrambled egg and burnt bacon sandwich. Cassie had declined breakfast. Not because she didn’t like her bacon a little overcooked, but because her stomach still felt queasy and she didn’t think she or James could go through another puking session.

Although she felt a lot better than she had the night before. At least today she could move. She snuggled down in the shearling jacket James had loaned her and took another sip of coffee from the travel mug. She had watched him prepare it in the kitchen and learned he liked his coffee black, exactly like she did. She also discovered he worked out of his home and took the job of escort very seriously. The only rooms that were furnished were the den, his bedroom,
and one small guest room. The other rooms had desks with computers, copy and fax machines, and a lot of paper.

There was much more involved with being an escort than Cassie realized.

They didn’t talk much on the ride to her condo. James ate, and she sipped her coffee and listened to the Christmas carols on the radio. The freeway had been sanded so it didn’t take them long to reach lower downtown, or LoDo as the locals called it.

Her condo was located in a converted warehouse. Patrick lived on one side of her and Mattie on the other. Converting the warehouse had been her father’s idea. Obviously, he’d thought that tucking her between her two brothers would keep her safe from all the big bad wolves in the world.

She shot a glance at James. He had finished his sandwich and now sipped his coffee. He looked over at her, and she saw her reflection in the dark lenses of his sunglasses. She looked like hell.

“You live here?” he asked.

Cassie knew it didn’t look like a residential building. The outside still looked like a three-story warehouse. It was all brick with shops on the ground floor that were rented out by a Realtor, a flower shop, and an insurance agent. It had been built in the late 1800s as a warehouse for a cigar company. There were times that Cassie could swear she smelled the strong, sweet tobacco.