Naked Love

by Jones, Lisa Renee

  Leah showed me it was okay not to have all the answers and to fall flat on my face. She dusted herself off, shook out her hair, and got back in the saddle. Being here, working for her, was as risky as what I did with Zach. No matter where I looked, there wasn’t a safety net to be found.

  “Ladies, I love it! It’s better than I imagined.” Claire’s voice echoed through the room. I hadn’t heard her come in. Another veteran of the escort club, she came out of the arrangement unscathed. In fact, she was married to an adorable older man. I wondered if he knew what she liked to do in her free time. He had to, if she liked to entertain at the house.

  Leah pulled something secured with bubble wrap out of a box. “We’re not close to done yet. The furniture is mostly in. We’re waiting on a few odds and ends, but basically we’re unpacking your stuff and making this your home.”

  “It’s never looked so good.” Claire kissed Leah and left a coral tattoo on her cheek. She gave me one too. “What can I help you with, girls?”

  “Absolutely nothing. Leave the work to us.” Leah stiffened, but she couldn’t wipe the grin off her lipstick-stained face.

  “Are you sure?” I asked, expecting Leah’s stink-eye. “She has to live with what we do. It might be easier if everything goes in the right place the first time.”

  Leah bumped against me as she brought the empty box over to the door. “That’s why I keep you around. Because you’re always right.”

  I scooped in to pick up the next full box before Leah tried. She wasn’t having the easiest pregnancy, and she didn’t need any added stress.

  Claire came over, casting a glance to Leah. “We have to throw her a shower,” she whispered.

  “That’s right.”

  “When is she due? It’s not like she’s got anything from her daughter anymore.” She was in college.

  “April.” I didn’t have a chance to say anything else before Leah came back and leaned over the box to see what I’d unearthed. I had to change the subject. “Do you plan on doing a lot of entertaining here, Claire?”

  She laughed, holding her arms wide to the room. “Absolutely. I have to show off all your hard work. I’ll have the girls here the minute you two finish.”

  There was no easy way to ask if the girls were into escorts. “Zach might be in touch with you.”

  She raised an eyebrow. “Is that so? I thought it was supposed to be the other way around.” She bit her lip and her gaze glazed over. “What are you doing, getting tangled up with Zach?”

  I choked on my coffee. Again. I’d been lost in a Zach-induced daydream. Specifically, his naked, tattooed body sprawled out on a ruined bed, desperate for release. “I’m helping him get his agency up and running.”

  Claire nodded. “What does he need me for? It’s been a while since we’ve spent any time together. I miss him.”

  “I was thinking the girls”—although they were mostly old enough to be my mother—“that you invite to the party might want to meet some of his new recruits.”

  She couldn’t hide her grin. “We haven’t had one of those parties in a long time. If these walls could talk, the two of you would be leaving here today with an education.”

  “So, what do you say?” I asked.

  Leah shot me a cautionary glare.

  Claire squeezed my hand. “I say Zach’s a big boy and can ask me himself. Tell him to call me.”

  13

  Zach

  A check for three thousand dollars taunted me from my kitchen table. It was made out to Shannon Gallagher—a retainer for website development and marketing services. I’d pay her the rest when the work was complete.

  It was the best thing to do. Walk away from the arrangement. Every time I closed my eyes, all I could see was her back arching off the mattress, her tight nipples, and her skin glowing from the oil and the streetlight. The night played in my head like a soundtrack. All the little sounds she made when she liked something I did… Shannon was a very expressive lover.

  If I gave her the check, it was over. No more secret meetings with only the darkness as our blanket, in places that would erase any trace of the evidence as soon as we left. No more negotiations. No more watching her play with her hair. Shannon would be out of my life like she came into it.

  But fuck no. That wouldn’t happen either. I had to face her, no matter what, on Christmas Day at Jag’s wedding. I’d have nowhere to look but at her, as he exchanged vows with Leah. Practically alone on an island with Shannon on a day like that.

  Or I could admit I was falling for her.

  No matter what, I’d break her heart. I was an escort. It wasn’t my job; it was who I was. I didn’t know how to be in a relationship. Outside of the bedroom, I had no idea how to make her happy.

  The check could wait. I adopted Barry’s old habit of checking in on the clients a couple days after their appointment. Not everyone was good about aftercare, and it was especially important when there was no tomorrow. I checked with the guys, too. Same reason. Besides being a bookkeeper and a salesperson, I’d also become a therapist.

  My list of things to do was a mile long, with Shannon’s name at the bottom, but by no means the least important. More like I listed everything in the order I wanted to deal with it. First, I was meeting Brandon at the gym.

  Dude was ripped, and he was at work when I got there. Overachiever. I needed that to keep my ass in line. “Guess what? I signed you up for massage classes,” I said.

  He almost choked on his green drink, which would be adding insult to injury, since those things tasted like a mouthful of trampled grass. “When did that become part of the bargain?”

  “Since I was putting the new website together, to keep your ass busy. It says every escort is a licensed masseur. For that to be true, you need to learn your way around a woman’s body.”

  “No complaints, so far.” He picked up a dumbbell and went back to work.

  “Don’t knock it until you try it. It can be pretty intense. The whole escort thing is a lot deeper than sex. You’ve got to make connections.”

  “Yeah. I connect my dick to her pussy.” He laughed. “This whole connections thing would be great if we were a dating site, and not an escort agency. You said not to get attached.”

  “You get repeat clients.” I was fucking spit-balling, but it was true. “They become friends.”

  He put the weight down, and walked over to me, eyes narrowed, like something was crawling on me. “You met someone, didn’t you?”

  “What does this have to do with you becoming a licensed massage therapist?”

  “Absolutely nothing.” He took another sip of his nasty drink. “But your eyes glazed over when you started talking about things being deeper than sex. Whoever the lucky girl is, she’s in big trouble. You’ve got it bad.”

  “Fuck you, dude.” I adjusted my weights on the deadlift machine and put down my phone. It lit up as soon as I let go. I couldn’t afford to let a potential client wait for one minute, in case she got nervous and changed her mind.

  But it was Shannon. I’ve got the website finished. Waiting on new headshots. I may have mentioned it to Jagger.

  Oh shit. Not now, after Brandon accused me of having feelings for her. My heart did this weird thing it hadn’t done in a good ten or so years and skipped a beat. I told myself it was the excitement of seeing the website, that it would make my business legit, but that was complete bullshit.

  Yeah, I’d love to. But you should keep Jagger out of this.

  Why? Those old headshots are cheesy. Hang on. I’ll send you the preview link…

  Because I don’t want to share you with him was on the tips of my fingers, but I didn’t type it. I glanced at Brandon, who winked before he got back to work. This guy barely knew me, and he could read me like a book. Or I was that fucking obvious.

  My phone pinged with the email that linked to the site.

  The front page was fucking gorgeous—a medium gray background with a swirling, gothic pattern surrounding an old-fash
ioned looking lock. It kind of looked like a pussy. I expanded the image and realized it was a series of shadows, and there was a man embracing a woman—possibly kissing her, maybe more. To find out, I had to open the door.

  Brilliant.

  She used the lock as my logo, putting it next to THE COLLINS AGENCY at the top right corner of every page. It looked so good. Like, better than I imagined. Clean, simple, and to the point. Our clients were busy, sophisticated women, and the site gave them everything they needed.

  No way could we use those old headshots. Damnit, Shannon.

  I love it, I texted back.

  Really? No constructive criticism?

  Only if you can explain to me how to improve perfection.

  I have some ideas. There was that damn smiley face.

  Oh yeah? Let’s hear them. I sat on the bench, staring at my phone like it was a living, breathing thing.

  You need to get a key at the desk this time. Shit. I thought she was talking about the website. I glanced at Brandon, who smirked like he had a pretty good idea what was happening on my phone. Problem was he did. Women didn’t catch me off guard often, and I had no practice dealing with it.

  I’ll be waiting for you naked. The woman had no mercy. I shifted on the bench. If she kept going where I thought she was going to go, I’d be rock hard and there would be no way to hide it in my shorts.

  I reached for the dumbbell, but changed my mind when the next message came in.

  By the window.

  Wouldn’t do either of us any good if I dropped fifty pounds of dead weight on my dick.

  Shannon, I can’t do this now.

  Of course not. You asked me for my ideas, and I have a lot of them.

  I’d look like a giant asshole if I offered her the money. That check would be confetti as soon as I got home. It was the only sane solution, but sanity was never my strong point, and Shannon planned on making me pay for every last one of my sins. An eye for an eye.

  I thought it was about work. That didn’t sound so bad. I’m at the gym with one of the guys.

  Oh yeah? If I requested two of you, would that cost double?

  Brandon shook his head, fucking laughing at me when I glared at him.

  Like hell I’d share her. A sleeping, snarling beast inside me woke at the thought of another man laying a finger on that perfect body. The clients often requested different escorts before settling on a favorite—if they ever did—and it never bothered me before. I liked it, because it made us all friends. There was no competition in Barry’s agency, and there would be none in mine, either.

  That wasn’t part of the deal, I answered.

  Good. Because you’re the only one who will satisfy my requirements. She was a fucking vixen when she had the protection of hiding behind the screen. I wondered what she was doing while she texted. If she was at work, if she’d gone for a walk on the boardwalk, trying to catch her ponytail as it whipped in the ocean breeze, or if she was by herself in that lonely rented room.

  No hotel this time. I’ll come to your house, I wrote. I wanted her. All of her. The things she didn’t let anyone else see.

  She didn’t answer right away. I thought you said that wasn’t a good idea.

  None of this is a good idea.

  The dots appeared and disappeared. Fuck. I said the wrong thing. Just when I convinced myself I was all in, I scared her away. Or we can stay at the hotel, I added.

  You can come to my house. It’s not really my house, though. She kept saying that.

  Whatever makes you most comfortable.

  Yeah, I like that idea. Another smiley face. I didn’t hate them so much anymore, because they made me picture her smiling, those hazel eyes lighting up at the thought of the debauchery she cooked up. The desires she was only brave enough to explore with me. Another text arrived. I need to tell you the rest before I lose my nerve.

  I might have to go into the locker room, depending on what happened next. Never be afraid to tell me what you want. You’re safe with me, I sent.

  The next emoji was a heart. Fuck.

  “I’ll be right back,” I said to Brandon.

  That’s why I like this arrangement so much.