by Lexie Ray
I swallowed. “Just how fat are we talking?”
“Thousands.”
I brightened instantly, but that only seemed to make Parker dim.
“Sorry, but thousands would help so much,” I said. “With Luke’s tuition, with rent, with everything. Do you not want me to do it, though?”
Parker seemed to pull herself free of something and forced a smile.
“Of course I want you to do it,” she said. “If you want to do it. And if you want to have a little something extra after you get your brother the best education possible. Have fun. Marcus is a great guy.”
She left to attend to his drink, and I hurried to my cubby in the dressing room, unable to shake the idea that my boss didn’t actually want me to escort Marcus. I wriggled out of my vest and shorts before throwing on the comfortable cotton dress I’d worn to work that day. It wasn’t exactly fancy, but it was at least better than jeans. Making a mental note to store at least one or two of my nicer outfits in my cubby for the next time I’d have to escort on the spot, I unbraided my hair, unclipped the extensions, and shook out some nice waves. I studied myself in the full-length mirror critically for a few moments before taking out my makeup case. My green eyes popped, but I was pretty sure I could go without all the glitter and eyeliner with Marcus.
Finally, I put all of my things away and grabbed my purse, firing off a quick text to Jennet.
“Surprise escort night,” I sent. “I’ll cut you in on the profits if you put Luke to bed.”
The reply was almost instantaneous, letting me know that my roommate had been poking away at her phone already — probably on Facebook.
“Do your thing!” she replied. “Good luck. Be safe.”
I breezed out just as Sol entered.
“Leaving already?” she asked, breathless and with a light sheen of sweat. She’d obviously been working the room after her performance. The clientele really enjoyed the cultural bits of her dancing. I had a small amount of influence in that department, encouraging her to think outside of the box when putting on a show.
“Parker asked me to do a special escort,” I explained. “He’s waiting, though, so I’ve got to go.”
My boss was sitting at Marcus’ table when I arrived, and I tried to walk slower. They looked to be deep in conversation, and I didn’t want to make my entrance a nuisance. I again felt pulled in two directions. If I didn’t know better, I’d say Parker had something for Marcus. Aloof Parker, with the unattainable tease of a proprietress. But the other part of me really wanted to do this — no, needed to — because the deadline for Luke’s school loomed a little too close for my comfort. Making a grand tonight — or more, as Parker indicated — would put me at the tuition finish line and then some.
“Here she is,” Parker said, seeming to notice me skulking at the edge of the VIP section. “Oh, look, Marcus. She kept the boots you loved so much.”
Grinning happily at the lucky break — my only other shoes I had here were my flip-flops or for performances — I lifted the hem of my dress and did a little curtsy.
“You look absolutely gorgeous,” Marcus said, appraising me with warm eyes. I couldn’t help the light blush that crept across my cheeks. I was so used to the anonymity of a large audience. Escort work was different — much more personal, more intimate. I was about to be for Marcus’ eyes and his eyes only. It was a lot of pressure, but it could be so exhilarating.
“You kids have fun,” Parker said, lowering her eyelashes flirtatiously.
“I just need to settle my tab,” Marcus said, reaching for his wallet, but Parker laid her perfectly manicured hand over his.
“Drinks are on me,” she said, smiling. “I insist.”
Butterflies spun in my stomach. I’d never once seen Parker foot the bill for any of the clientele, even the time some idiot put his drink on the stage while one of the girls was dancing and it got kicked onto the carpet. Parker had simply offered the dancer at the time a glass of water to “make nice,” and the girl had proceeded to dump the water all over her torso, putting on a very erotic display for the crowd. Everyone had loved it, and there were no hard feelings.
So why was Parker paying for Marcus’ drinks? Were they really that close? I wasn’t sure I’d ever find out — at least not from my boss.
Chapter 2
“I really do love those boots,” Marcus told me as a driver opened the back door of a very nice car for us. I gathered my dress around my rump and slid in across the supple leather seat. The clunker that got me from point A to point B wouldn’t hold a candle to this baby.
“Thanks,” I said as soon as I was settled. “I love them, too.”
Marcus sat beside me and the driver shut the door behind him. For the briefest of moments, we were alone and up close, and the air between us was charged with something. I was more excited than nervous, now, especially since we were away from the mystery of Parker. My boss really could be an enigma sometimes.
“So, how do you know Parker?” I asked, looking to make conversation as the driver took off.
Marcus blinked at me a couple of times, clearly surprised, and I wondered if it hadn’t been the right thing to ask.
“Because she called you all old friends,” I explained. “You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to.”
“That’s all right,” he said, smoothly recovering. “We do go way back. I’ve been friends with her longer than anyone. We went to high school together.”
“Wow,” I said. It was my turn to be surprised. I’d only been out of high school for a couple of years, but I didn’t keep in contact with anyone.
“I hope that ‘wow’ wasn’t because you were stunned at just how long ago it was that I was in high school,” Marcus said.
“Of course not,” I said, giggling. He was older, that was sure, with silver dusting the hair at his temples. But he was good looking for whatever his age was, the kind of man who would only get more attractive with time. That gave me pause. If he and Parker really had gone to high school together, then she was much older than she looked. Good for her.
“We were very good friends,” Marcus mused more to himself than to me.
“Were?”
He smiled. “We always seemed to be traveling in two different directions. Ships passing in the night. We’ve always tried to keep up with each other. Keep in touch.”
“So you’re in Miami for business or pleasure?” I asked, raising my eyebrows. I felt like I was prying, but if Marcus had a problem with it, I could always back off.
“Can’t a man have a little of both?” he asked, his hand resting lightly on my knee. Would it be too forward if I asked him about why he wasn’t taking his pleasure with Parker if they cared about each other so much?
Before I could shape my lips to form the question, the car pulled up to a swanky club I’d only ever seen from the outside. Clubs were as foreign to my vocabulary as sex. I never had the time or the desire. Why waste money on sweating with a few dozen other people on a dance floor when I could get paid for dancing by myself?
“I’ve been here a couple of times before,” he remarked, taking his fingers from my knee as he looked out the window. “When I was mixing business with pleasure, of course.”
“I’ve never been here,” I said, taking the driver’s hand as I stepped out of the car. Maybe I should’ve worn a pair of heels instead of my cowboy boots. I was decidedly underdressed if the women standing in line outside the club were any indication — all tube tops and miniskirts and micro dresses.
“I think you’ll enjoy it,” Marcus said, offering his arm to me. What a gentleman! I couldn’t help but give a small, self-satisfied smile at the people ogling us as we cut ahead of the line and entered the club ahead of everyone else who had been waiting. Escorting an apparently rich and powerful man had its perks, and so far that included line jumping.
“What can I order you to drink?” he asked, once we’d been seated in a comfy booth with a great view of the place. The dance floor fea
tured panels that changed colors every time someone stepped on them. It looked like a writhing rainbow out there — and really fun.
“A water would be just fine,” I said automatically. I felt like I drank gallons of it at work with how much I sweated after performing. Plus, it was free. Ah, reliable water.
“Are you sure? No champagne? No cocktails?”
I winced, feeling more than a little guilty. “I have something to confess.”
Marcus paled even under all the flashing lights. “Are you pregnant?”
“No!” I squawked, bursting into shocked laughter. “I’m just not of legal drinking age.”
If possible, the man’s pallor grew even worse. “Are you at least eighteen?”
I couldn’t stop my chortles, even by pressing my hand against my mouth. “I’m twenty,” I said. “Do you really think Parker would set you up with someone underage, let alone employ them?”
Marcus finally laughed, signaling a waiter. “You’re right,” he allowed. “She wouldn’t do that to me. Sorry for doubting her — and you, for that matter.”
“No worries,” I said, still tickled. Sex, clubs, and alcohol — all things I didn’t imbibe because they robbed me of my precious time and Luke’s precious tuition money. I would never forgive myself if he had to spend another year in the impersonal clutches of a public school, unable to get the attention and expertise he needed to thrive.
Marcus ordered me a large ice water garnished with fat slices of lime, and a martini for himself, before asking for a couple of appetizer plates. My mouth watered at the prospect of hot, delicious food. I’d been so careful with money lately that I’d scrimped on groceries. Luke got most everything he wanted, of course, but I was going on my second consecutive week of peanut butter sandwiches.
“Sure you don’t want a sip?” he asked, hoisting the glass. “It’s quite good.”
I wrinkled my nose. “I don’t like olives.”
“Suit yourself,” he said, sounding amused.
The truth was that I didn’t like vodka — or most any liquor. It sounded like it would be easy to forget all of my problems if I just let myself sink into a bottle. I had too many responsibilities to allow for that.
“So, what do you do?” I asked after a comfortable lull of silence — well, a lapse in conversation, on our part. The club was the exact opposite of silence, music booming and patrons laughing and shouting.
“I’m in advertising,” he said, his warm eyes twinkling. I’d scooted my chair closer to his in order to hear him, and he took the opportunity to rest his hand lightly against my knee again, just like in the car. I didn’t mind his touch at all — it was friendly despite its intimacy. My butterflies from earlier had been allayed by just how simply nice Marcus was.
“Interesting,” I said, cocking my head. “Have you done anything I might’ve seen?”
“Alas, I’m not on the creative side of it,” Marcus said. “I’m the man who wines and dines the clients.”
“Well, I can tell you’re good at it,” I said, hoisting my water toward him in a mock toast. “Ooh, here’s our food!”
“I think that’s the most excited you’ve been all night,” Marcus said, laughing as the waiter set the steaming plates in front of us. I was far too eager to feel the amount of shame I ought to have had. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d been to a restaurant.
“It looks delicious,” I remarked before stuffing an entire eggroll into my mouth as politely as possible. Marcus choked on his drink, spluttering as I attempted to chew the gloriously crispy shell and all of its soft, savory fillings without opening my mouth.
“What?” I mumbled, holding my napkin in front of my mouth so I could nosh to my heart’s content. It came out more like, “Wuh?”
“You, um, must’ve been really hungry,” he said, coughing a little. “Really, really hungry.” It wasn’t until he shifted in his seat, trying to pick discreetly at his trousers, that I realized just how suggestive it must have looked for him to see me stick the whole thing in my mouth. I had the presence of mind to blush before swallowing carefully.
“I’m sorry,” I said once my mouth was finally clear. I hoped it rang sincere, because there was no way I was apologetic. That eggroll was freaking delicious. I eyed the plate, wondering when I could snag another. Maybe I should count to ten. My self-resolve waned. Okay, maybe five seconds was enough.
“Don’t you ever get fed?” Marcus asked, taking another sip from his martini as he watched me try to take normal bites of the eggroll. I noticed that he hadn’t touched any of the appetizers he’d ordered.
“Don’t you ever eat?” I countered cheekily, swallowing yet another bite before noticing the shallow dish of sauce placed in the middle of the arrangement of eggrolls. How had I missed that? I used the last bit of the delicious creation as a shovel for the sauce and popped it all in my mouth. That sauce had been worth the wait, but I was thankful I hadn’t overlooked it completely. It was the perfect balance of sweet and spicy, complementing the eggrolls.
“Never, if it’s even better watching someone else,” Marcus said, reminding me that I was in the presence of another human being. I had to remember what I was there for — to charm Marcus out of a thousand dollars or so, not to gorge myself on pricey food.
“Sorry,” I said again, sheepish as I clasped my hands in my lap. Using one to hold on to the other was the only way I could keep them from snatching another eggroll. The other appetizers beckoned, too, and I couldn’t help licking my lips.
“Don’t apologize on my account,” Marcus said, his grin doing wonders to help me not be ashamed of my embarrassing behavior. “And don’t stop. Food is meant to be enjoyed. I guess I eat out so often, what with all my business and traveling and everything, that I lose sight of what should bring me joy. You’re a breath of fresh air, Faith.”
I blushed and ducked my head. I’d only been stuffing my face, not trying to impart any kind of wisdom to a man who obviously had some to spare.
“The eggrolls are really good,” I said. “Here, try one.” I dunked one of the pitiful few that remained in the sauce and held it expectantly toward him. Instead of taking it from me, as I anticipated, Marcus steadied me by circling his fingers around my wrist and took a delicate bite from the end of the roll.
Maybe it was the casual intimacy of the gesture, or maybe it was the fact that I’d never anticipated a richer and more powerful person than I could ever hope to be submitting to me, trusting me to deliver sustenance. Either way, I felt a strange thrill of arousal as Marcus made a small sound in the back of his throat, chewing the morsel I’d given him.
“I can understand why you liked it so much,” he said. “It really is very good.”
“I’m glad you enjoy it,” I said, my voice a little hoarse. Why had that simple act affected me so deeply? I cleared my throat purposefully. “You’d better start eating, you know. I’m afraid I’m going to wolf down this entire thing.”
“So wolf it down,” Marcus said. I liked the way the skin at the corners of his eyes crinkled. He had a weathered face, but those were the wrinkles that ran the deepest — smile lines right by his friendly eyes. I hoped that when I was old enough for wrinkles, I’d have some just like that. I resolved to smile as much as I could from now on — no matter how worried I was about one thing or another.
“I don’t want you to miss out on anything,” I insisted, dipping the eggroll in the sauce again and offering it to him.
“Believe me, I’m eating very vicariously through you,” he said, taking another little nibble from the tasty delight. “Too many women today worry so much about their figures that they forget to take the little pleasures in life — to enjoy something as simple as an appetizer.”
“There’s nothing simple about this appetizer,” I laughed, taking a big bite of the very eggroll I’d been in the middle of feeding him. He raised his eyebrows at my action and I realized just how thoughtless it was. It showed me I was way too accustomed to sharing food with
Jennet and Luke. Was that how comfortable I was with this virtual stranger? Marcus had an uncanny talent of putting me at ease.
“You snooze, you lose,” I said lightly, shrugging and grinning after I’d swallowed the tidbit.
“You have just a little sauce, right here,” he said, trailing the tip of his finger over my lips. The feather-light gesture tickled and made me smile, and then, before I understood what was happening, we were kissing. He tasted faintly of the sweet and spicy sauce, of the vodka in his martini, of a heady cigar he must have been smoking in the club before we’d met. All of those distinct ingredients formed one bouquet of the man I knew only as Marcus, friend of my boss, Parker, man who was going to enable me to get my brother into the school I knew would help him.