I grip the chair and arch upward and he gives me what I want. He suckles me, licks me, touches me and release hits me with a sudden jolt. I stiffen and then tremble all over until it’s over. I melt into the chair, and I feel Reese tug my skirt down. He then sets something in my lap. “Come here, Cat.”
I lean up and he kisses me, pulling away the tie and whispering, “Marry me, Cat. I need you in my life…Look down.”
He eases back and there is a stunning diamond ring, sitting on my lap. “A ring. I mean, I know it’s a ring. I just—”
“Say yes, Cat. You’re killing me here.”
“Yes. Yes. Yes. Of course. And just so you know. That was the best way of proposing any man has ever come up with. Of course, I’ll leave certain parts out of the story but—”
He kisses me and I’m home to stay.
Epilogue
Cat
One year later…
Still reeling from our wedding a month ago at the Summer ranch, Reese and I are now sitting at a table in the center of a ballroom at the Ritz Carlton Battery Park as part of a launch party for our book we’re told is already set for the New York Times just with pre-orders. I’d worn a pink dress to get married in and Reese a tuxedo. And today, I’m wearing my pink suit for the signing and he has on his lucky blue suit. Or it will be lucky after today. Everyone we know, and many we don’t know, are here with the exception of my baby brother Daniel who had to go back to work after the wedding. Even my father, Gabe, and Reid, are here, who of course, are thrilled I married an attorney. Reid is still one big cranky ass but he’s slowly easing up. Reese has saved two of Reid’s clients from certain hell in jail, and since they were innocent, Reese and I, were both just fine with him helping.
I sign a book for a man who raves about my column and Reese’s skill in the courtroom. He watched “every moment of the trial on TV.” I smile and sign his book “Cat Summer” which is pretty darn surreal. The next person in line is quick to attack Dan. “He was horrid in court,” the sixty-something woman says. “Horrid. Don’t you think so, Mr. Summer?”
“He put Kelli Ward in prison for life,” Reese says. “I forgive him for being a jerk for that reason.”
“I hope Nelson Ward has found peace.”
“He has,” Reese says. “And with this book, we hope his story gets heard.”
I hand a signed book to her, and she leaves us with a break from the long line we’d managed the past hour. I reach for my bottle of water, when Reese nudges me. “Look,” he says, motioning to his mother, who looks stunning in a knee length emerald dress. “She’s flirting with a guy twenty years younger than her.”
“And he’s flirting back. I love it.”
“I do not love it,” Reese says. “I’m supposed to go help her install a new television tomorrow. I don’t want to show up to her apartment and find a guy my own age, or any age, running around naked.”
I laugh. “I doubt he will be running around. I still can’t get used to her apartment being my old apartment but I love it. My mom wanted to start fresh there, I did start fresh there, and now she’s teaching here, and starting fresh in that same apartment.”
“And flirting with young kids.”
“He’s not a kid,” I laugh again.
“Holy fuck,” he says.
“What now?”
I follow his lead and find his sister, who is an absolute brunette goddess, in conversation with Gabe who has actually become friends with Reese. Flirty conversation. “Oh my,” I say. “They are cuddly.”
“I have to stop this.” He tries to stand.
“You will not. Let them have fun.”
He looks over at me. “Isn’t that like saying one and done? It never works.”
“Right. Someone either gets hurt or gets married. She lives here now, too. Maybe we should go break them up.” We both stand and start walking in that direction, Mr. and Mrs. Summer to rescue one dirty rich one night stand at a time.
Cat Does Crime: Christmas Day
In closing: Contrary to popular talking heads in the media Santa did not steal Christmas, or any other holiday. I did. At least where Christmas is concerned since that is what I celebrate. Christmas is right here in my house, with a tree decorated in silver, in case you wondered. I hope whatever it is that you celebrate is alive and well in your house, too, because this time of year is about family, friendship, and a whole lot of eating. We need more family and friends in this world. We need more pumpkin pie, actually, but that’s for another day. For those of you who have written in asking how becoming Cat Summer changes me or this column, I hope you have had a few months to see that it changes nothing. For the record, if Reese Summer missteps in a trial I will not only tell him, I will tell you. Merry Christmas, happy holidays, and until then, —Cat
* * *
Thank you for reading DIRTY RICH ONE NIGHT STAND!
You can read even more Cat and Reese in TWO YEARS LATER...
One and done. It was supposed to be one night. I knew his type. You don't fall in love with a man like Reese Summer, but I did. He swept me off my feet, seduced me, refused to take no for an answer. We became a power couple. The syndicated crime reporter. One of the country's top criminal attorneys. The fantasy became happily ever after until the next big trial of the century. Reese is defending a woman accused of killing her father for billions. I'm reporting on the case. And then the world around us explodes. The trial turns to danger right as a secret from Reese's past shocks me. Someone who wants to destroy our happily ever after. Someone wants to end me.
ONE CLICK DIRTY RICH ONE NIGHT STAND: TWO YEARS LATER HERE
Turn the page to feel the sparks flying off the pages between Zach and Shannon in THE PASSION PROJECT.
The Passion Project
Kristen Strassel
The escort agency is back in business—and this time, Zach Collins is in charge.
Scandal destroyed his last agency, and he’s worked too hard to have everything ripped away from him—especially by his best friend, Jagger Holiday. Trust doesn’t come easily to Zach, so he knows how important it is to his clients.
When a fiery redhead named Shannon turns Jagger’s new art gallery around, Zach is desperate for her help. He can give a woman anything she wants, but he’s got no idea how to run a business. Except Shannon’s not interested in his money. He’s got much more to give her than that. Zach’s never fallen for a client before, but for the agency to succeed, he’s willing to break all his rules.
1
Zach
I never had a real fucking job before. I only had a job fucking. Didn’t exactly make me boss material.
But here I sat at my dining room table, pretending I knew what the hell I was doing. I should’ve been an actor instead of an escort, or taken the hint when Barry closed up shop on the agency I’d worked at for over a decade, and tried my hand at a new career. I suspected the two professions weren’t that different, and I was a master of selling myself in fucked-up situations.
I couldn’t let the guy who’d come for an interview know I was as nervous as he was. One of the first things I learned as an escort was that if I didn’t have confidence, neither would my clients. But the most important thing was how to read body language. Words couldn’t be trusted, but bodies couldn’t lie. Both things had made me damn good at my old job, but neither taught me how to hire my first new employee.
“How about a beer, man?” My business, my rules. I got up and headed to the fridge. No matter what his answer was, I was having one.
His eyebrows shot up. “Yeah. A beer would be great.”
“Porter? Lager? Fuck the beer and go straight for the whiskey?” Now that I was in charge, I had to be prepared for every scenario.
“Porter. Don’t bother with a glass.” He smirked, running his hand through his long, dark hair, like Jagger used to do.
“Good choice.” I opened the bottle and pushed it across the table at him, then took a swig from my beer. This guy was named Brandon, and through
a friend of a friend, I found out he was interested in joining the agency. There was no resume or application I could have him fill out. Nothing to make this easier on either of us. “Why do you want to escort?” I asked.
Brandon jumped like my question was delivered via electric shock. He held the bottle close to his lips, but the beer didn’t cover his discomfort. He took his time answering. I liked that. He wanted this job.
“I was awarded full custody of my daughter. I was on the road the last few years with my band. One might consider that an unpaid internship for this job.” He grinned before taking another sip. “Now I need something that keeps me a little closer to home. My priorities changed, and I have to find a way to support her, part time.”
“How old is she?”
His face brightened. “Four.” He picked up his phone, but then glanced at me and put it down. He’d probably been about to show off pictures, like any proud dad, but he didn’t know who the fuck I was, besides the guy he was asking to hook him up with women willing to pay for sex—which didn’t make me the best person to show off the kid to.
We’d have to earn each other’s trust, but I liked that he had a daughter and that he was a single dad. I hoped it meant he’d treat our clients with respect. I’d been an escort for twelve years; these women taught me about life. It wasn’t just fucking for money—and not because we had to bill ourselves as paid companions to keep the business quasi-legal. It was also watching someone come into their own and claim their independence, or making a dream come true. Sex was power, and the sooner people started using it for good instead of evil, the sooner the world would become a better place.
“You choose the days you want to work and how far you’re willing to travel. Or you can stay in Miami and specify that you’re not available for overnight jobs. The clients book you in increments of two hours. Typical appointment is four hours. Of course, the more you’re available, the more money you make. I’ll have a survey for you to fill out, as lame as that sounds, so put down what you’re into and what your limits are. I’ll give the same survey to the clients, to make sure I give them the best match.”
He didn’t look like a guy who showed much restraint. He hadn’t accepted the beer to be polite; he was drinking it. His hair fell to his chest, and when he pushed it back, metal shone on his ears. He had muscular, tattooed arms and an easy smile. He might be the answer to my prayers—an escort the ex-clients of my best friend, Jagger Holiday, would consider. I used to laugh about Jag’s magic touch when he worked as an escort, but now the joke was on me. I needed a guy on the roster with the it factor, or my new agency was doomed.
It fucking stung that I wasn’t that guy. I had to get over it. I knew what the necessary qualities were, and I’d do whatever I could to get the right people on board. We were a high-end escort service that satisfied our clients’ needs, whatever those were.
“Think you’re interested?” I had a good feeling about this guy.
Brandon took a sip of his beer and leaned back in his seat. “Yeah. I am.”
I wanted to cheer like he scored a touchdown, but I couldn’t act like the fucking amateur that I was. “I’ll run a background check and a credit check on you. You’ll have to get tested, to make sure you’re clean, before you start and once a month. I also have an NDA for you to sign. Not sure you heard what happened with the agency I used to be with.”
He scoffed. “Yeah. I did.”
Jagger knocked me on my ass in more ways than one. A scandal between him and his now baby mama shut down the company we worked for and sent our clients scattering. They were actresses, politicians, businesswomen, and wives. The whole fucking world didn’t need to know what they did in their free time. That kind of trust didn’t come back automatically. It was probably better that Jag stayed far away from this new business, wrapped in the security blanket of his happily ever after. A good escort wanted things. Jagger had it all.
“Then you know how important it is to stay discreet. So I should probably ask—how good are you at keeping secrets?”
Brandon set the empty beer bottle on the table, but he didn’t let go of it right away. “I can do it.”
“But are you good at it?”
He nodded. “Yeah.”
“It doesn’t matter how good you are at fucking, as long as—for those four hours or whatever—your client is the center of your universe.” That was kind of a lie, but he could learn the fucking part. The most important part was the trust. It took a certain kind of person to be good at that. “Whatever she wants, you do. She may literally put her life in your hands. It’s your responsibility to keep her safe.”
“I won’t let you down.”
Brandon got it. “You’re willing to go forward with this?” I asked.
“Yeah. As fucked up as it sounds, it’s the right opportunity at the right time.”
“I’ve been doing this for twelve years. Doesn’t sound fucked up at all.” I was stoked to have this guy on board. He had the right balance of cockiness and humility, and something to keep his ass in line. Women would go crazy for him, and his little girl would want for nothing. “I’ll get the paperwork over to you. Do you have any questions for me?”
“Yeah.” Brandon leaned forward, putting his elbows on the desk, eyebrow raised and lips pressed together.
I’d seen this look so many times, but it was usually from my clients. He was sizing me up. It didn’t bother me; I had to prove myself to him as much as he did to me. I asked him to sell his body. I expected to have to explain a few things.
“Why are you an escort?” he asked.
I wasn’t prepared for that question. I finished off my beer, pushing down a bullshit answer with every hard gulp. “Because I wasn’t made for anything else.”
Brandon didn’t blink, and I thought about handing him another beer. No. He had to make this decision with a clear mind.
“Are you in a relationship? You know—outside of the job?” he asked.
I shook my head.
“Can it work?” he asked.
“Some guys try it.” Like Jagger, and here I was, digging myself out of the rubble. “And it never works.”
2
Shannon
My grandma got me a good set of luggage when I graduated from college. She said I was going places, yet this was the first chance I’d had to use it.
I burst out laughing when the plane touched down in Miami. The passengers around me did a horrible job of sneaking some serious side-eye in my direction. I couldn’t blame them. Everyone was on edge when it came to air travel these days. I was only twenty-six, but I’d let too much time slip by, doing what everyone else thought was best for me. So I left a job many people would sell a vital organ for, as an associate producer on Great Start Today, to help my embattled ex-boss make her dream of an interior design business blossom. I watched her build it once from nothing. She got knocked down, but not out. I owed a lot to Leah Godfrey.
She taught me that if I followed my passion, my dreams could come true. There was a ton of hard work waiting for me between the starting point and the finish line, but it was possible.
Until I met her, I did the worst thing possible—I settled. In college, I met the guy I thought was the answer to every question. When he proposed, I didn’t even wait for him to finish the question. He could have said will you take out the trash, and I would have been on my way to the dumpster. I thought a solid foundation was all I needed to build my castle upon. Turns out we didn’t want the same castle. A piece of me would always love him—he led me to Washington and then my job at Great Start—but ultimately, I loved myself more.
I had to stop looking to other people to solve my problems.
Leah put her arms around me when I met up with her at the baggage claim, and seeing her wasn’t the only thing I was giddy about. Coming to Miami was an important step for me. Leaping before I looked wasn’t so bad.
“I can’t believe I’m here,” I said against her shoulder, wriggling my arm loose so
I could wave to her fiancé, Jagger. The baby kicked me when Leah gave me a squeeze. “I’m ready to get to work.”
She laughed. “I’m not a slave driver. We’ve got a lot lined up. You might want to ease into it. I placed the order for Claire’s house, but we’re not expecting anything until next week. You’ve got some time to get to know Miami.”
Claire was the first client for Leah’s new business, and Leah gave me a ton of responsibility. It had been exciting when we talked about it, but now the reality was terrifying. I came from the marketing world, not the art world. But Leah saw something in me and gave me the courage to try my hand at design. So much was riding on this job. Failure was not an option.
“We got some of your stuff delivered to the gallery.” Jagger took my carry-on bag from me. It had been dangling painfully from my forearm, and I was happy for the relief. My ancient laptop was on its last legs, and I probably shouldn’t tell Leah I worked on her website the entire plane ride to Miami. Work was fun for me. A lot of people didn’t understand that. “Are we expecting more? It was only a few boxes. We can pick them up and bring them to your new place,” he said.
“That’s it.” I’d acquired embarrassingly little stuff since I struck out on my own. Everything belonged to my ex. He liked things a certain way. Blargh. So did I, but I refused to waste my time thinking about him when I was starting my life over in Miami. I’d be able to look out almost any window and see palm trees. It was impossible not to be happy. “I rented a short-term apartment until I get to know the city.”
It was my insurance plan, to satisfy that nagging voice inside that screamed for me to play it safe—that moving here was irresponsible and foolish, no matter what kind of opportunity was on the horizon. My new job came with no guarantees. I lied to my grandma when I told her about the move. She’d freak out if she knew I was working at a startup. I was a grown-ass woman, perfectly capable of making my own decisions, but she worried about me. She wanted me to go places, as long as they were safe and had a good benefit package.
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