Read The Bad Judgment Series: The Complete Series Online
Authors: Leigh James
The Bad Judgment Series: The Complete Series (48 page)
“But to me, there’s something special that says forever. Even more than a tattoo.” He opened the box. In it was an enormous diamond engagement ring.
“Nic, would you marry me? And be my wife? Forever?” he asked.
“Yes yes yes!!!” I screamed again, and then I let myself jump up and down. I no longer wanted to pass out. I wanted to remember every second of this later, when I could think straight.
He stood up, not bothering to wipe the sand off his knee, and slid the ring onto my finger. “Want to get married this weekend? With everybody here?” he asked.
Tears spilled down my cheeks as I nodded my head,
yes.
“Even Alexa’s coming,” he said.
“She said she couldn’t….”
“I bought her another one of those steamer trunks she likes,” he said, and shrugged.
I looked at him and laughed, and then I held my sparkly ring up in the sun. I stared at it, mesmerized, feeling like I could look at is glittery beauty forever.
Forever.
Walker watched me watching the ring. “Looks like you’ve got a Shiny Object Problem,” he said, wrapping his arms around me and kissing me on the cheek. “Welcome to the family.”
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f you’ve enjoyed
The Bad Judgment Series
, you might like my sexy contemporary romance series,
Escorting the Billionaire.
Attached is an excerpt of
Escorting the Billionaire
.
Enjoy, and thanks so much for reading!
A
ll I wanted was
a date for my stupid asshole brother’s wedding.
Not a girlfriend. Not a relationship. A
date
.
No strings. No ties. No games.
No sex.
So when I called Elena at the escort service, I was very clear.
“I want someone beautiful. Who can function at high-society events,” I said. “She needs to be able to use her silverware properly and to be discreet. I can’t have someone who gets drunk and falls down in public. Also, no one who looks cheap. I don’t want a lot of makeup and big, fake boobs.”
“I don’t have any cheap-looking girls, Mr. Preston,” Elena said. “Unless the client is into that. Then I have plenty.” She laughed.
I waited for her to finish. “I need her to be available for two weeks. I have cocktail parties, lunches, brunches, the rehearsal dinner, then the wedding. And then for some ungodly reason, my brother wants us all to go on his honeymoon to the Caribbean with him. It’s going to be the wedding from hell.”
I sighed and rubbed my temples; two weeks with my family was going to be bad enough. And now I was going to have to babysit a hooker the whole time.
But it was better than going alone. I hoped.
“She’ll need a passport. And a drug test. I don’t want any users.” I winced, remembering the last time I’d hired an escort. It had been over ten years ago, but I still clearly remembered waking up and finding her in the bathroom, shooting up in between her toes.
I went on a penicillin and no-whore diet after that.
“All my girls are drug tested,” Elena said smoothly, “and they all have passports. They have to travel frequently. It’s not a problem.” She paused for a beat. “Speaking of tests, you’re going to have to be screened for STDs. I’ll need those results emailed to me before we make the final arrangements.”
“I’m not planning on actually sleeping with her—” I said.
“Excuse me?” Elena asked.
“I don’t want to sleep with her,” I insisted. “I need her as a buffer from my family.”
“Whatever you like,” Elena said sweetly. “But she will be young and gorgeous. And completely at your disposal.”
I exhaled and stalked around my living room, my footsteps bouncing off the hardwood floors. I was dressed in a suit and ready for work. I looked out at the sun rising over Los Angeles, the light flooding my house. I didn’t want to leave here. I had everything I needed, including my favorite leather couch and an enormous flatscreen television, and nothing I didn’t, including a prostitute and my family.
I didn’t argue with the madam. Still, I had no plans to sleep with the girl I was hiring—I wanted to keep her at arm’s length, just like everyone else. I didn’t want any messy emotional entanglements. I just needed a fake relationship to keep my family at bay. No more questions about why I was alone, no more wondering or whispers. The whispers that I was gay. Or worse, that I was lonely.
The truth was that I preferred to be alone, left to my own devices. And it was nobody’s damn business.
“I’ll have my doctor send you the test results. Tomorrow. I need to get this wrapped up—I fly in on Friday, and I need her then.” All the events and the wedding were happening in Boston. Then we were all flying to Providenciales together, one big happy family.
Fuck me,
I thought. I needed a drink just running through the itinerary in my mind.
“What sort of look do you prefer?” Elena asked. “I gave you the code to look at the girls online…”
“I already did,” I said. “They all look decent. Find me one that won’t embarrass me. Find me one that’s smart. Not some hick. And no strippers. My brother can pick out a stripper from a mile away.”
“Do you have a preference for hair color?” She asked. “Build? Anything? Because you’re going to be around your family, you’ll want it to seem natural.”
I thought of my last girlfriend, Logan. She’d had stick-straight blond hair and not an ounce of fat on her toned, lithe body. And she’d been a total, complete, unending pain in my ass.
“Dark hair,” I said. “Curvy. I want someone who isn’t afraid of a steak. And who looks good in a bikini—but not
too
good, if you know what I mean. I don’t want someone who’s going to have their ass hanging out in public.
Tasteful
, Elena. I need classy.”
I rubbed my temples again. I was hiring an escort as a date to my brother’s wedding. Classy probably wasn’t a reasonable request, all things considered.
“I’ve got that,” Elena said confidently. “In fact, I think I have the perfect girl. I’ll send you over the contract. Send me that test result and your deposit.”
“How much is it, again?” I asked. The fee was astronomical, if I remembered correctly.
“The total for two weeks, including the travel, is two hundred thousand dollars.” She paused for a beat. “Half paid up front. And we’re cash-only.”
“Don’t you think your services are a bit, umm…overpriced?” I asked. “I’m not prepared to pay investment prices for a rented date.”
“You’re paying for a luxury product,” Elena said, not missing a beat. She’d heard this a thousand times from rich men who doubled as cheap bastards.
“The cost breakdown, per hour, is five hundred and ninety-five dollars. You pay your lawyer more than that, I’m sure. And he doesn’t always bend over when you tell him to.”
If I’d been capable of it, I’d be mildly chastened by that. I let her continue.
“That being said,” Elena continued, “the price I’m charging you is our standard rate. I’m not gouging you just because you’re a gazillionaire. But
do
feel free to tip generously at the end of your arrangement.”
I snorted.
“Your escort is going to be the most beautiful woman you’ve ever met. She’s going to fulfill your every fantasy—which in your case, is being the perfect date for your brother’s wedding. If you had any other fantasies”—she paused for effect—“she could fulfill those, too.” She laughed again. “But of course, you’re not interested in that.”
“Ha ha,” I said. “For that price, I might just
have
to fuck her.”
Six ways from Sunday.
I made myself stop from forming a mental picture.
“Of course,” she said. “And once you get a taste, you’ll really understand why you’re getting your money’s worth. By the way—all of our escorts are on birth control. We test them regularly to make sure they’re in compliance. So condoms are optional. Her test results are part of the contract. We guarantee healthy, clean girls. So if you’re clean, too, you can both relax and just enjoy each other.”
She paused and I squirmed, my cock stiffening at her words. It had been a long time.
Down boy,
I thought.
“We’ll see you soon, Mr. Preston. I’m looking forward to working with you.”
We hung up and I shook my head, laughing to myself a little. Two hundred thousand dollars. But the promise in her words would make any man’s dick hard. That was the point. That was why Elena’s escort service was the most successful, the most exclusive one on the East Coast. She was good at sales.
And based on the pictures she’d sent me, her employees
were
pretty hot.
I willed the stirring of my erection to go away. I was using Elena’s service because I was in a bind, not because I couldn’t get laid. I needed the perfect woman to bring to my brother’s perfect wedding.
So that everybody would leave me the fuck alone.
F
ind the book here
:
Escorting the Billionaire
.
U
SA TODAY bestselling
author Leigh James writes steamy contemporary romance, with a healthy dose of action and adventure. This is Leigh’s fourth book. In addition to writing, endlessly re-watching
Pitch Perfect
and scouring the house for leftover Halloween candy to eat, Leigh is a mother of three. She has degrees in Journalism and Law.
S
he lives
with her husband and children in New Hampshire.
A
huge thank
you to all the readers, friends and family who’ve been so supportive of my books
.
I lurrrrve you all a LOT. Like, so much so that you might want to ask for your personal space back. And then use a Clorox wipe on yourself when I finally give it to you.
I could not write without the love and enduring support of my awesome husband and my three beautiful, patient, kind children. Even when I’m breaking up your fights, putting down your toilet lids and picking up a myriad of your dirty tube socks, it’s the best day ever.
You guys make everything worth it.
Thanks to my amazing beta readers, Wendy Myler, Amy Warren and Cheryl Buchanan, for being brilliant, generous and honest. Thank you for caring about Nicole and Walker as much as I do. Where would I be without you? Probably lying in a ditch somewhere, wondering what might have been. I owe you guys, big time, and I love you lots.
A special thanks to Derek, who told me what really happens when you get a tattoo.
I have to also (always) thank my mom and dad, who are super supportive. You are special people. Thanks in particular to my mom, who is always ready with a pep talk, and who always told me to never give up.