by Cat Johnson
She raised her gaze to meet mine hesitantly. “If Zane hires me, I’ll have a new job. I’d be based out of New York with a lot of trips down here. Maybe we could see each other, since I’ll be nearby.”
I forced the excitement down. I was determined to take things slower with her this time, but I couldn’t help but be uplifted that the two places Alex mentioned happened to be conveniently close to where I spent most of my time.
“He’ll hire you,” I said. He would if I had anything to do about it. After this week I figured Zane now owed me. “And yeah. We can see each other. I’d like that.”
The tiniest of smiles bowed her lips. “Me too.”
EPILOGUE
Eyes locked, muscles tensed, we squared off. On alert. Ready. Each waiting for the other to make the first move.
“Come on. Come at me.” I urged her forward with a small wave of my raised hands.
She shook her head. “Why don’t you come at me?”
“All right.” Without pause, I pounced, taking her off guard and off her feet with one swift move.
We ended up with her, flat on her back and me above her. Just as I liked it.
I smiled. “I win.”
I’d learned some things over the past few months. Enough I could now take Alex when we sparred. Not as often as she bested me, but I was working on it.
“I let you win,” she said.
“Bull shit.” I frowned and tried to decide if she was lying to me or not.
She smiled and fisted my T-shirt in one hand, yanking me forward and down until I was just a breath from her face. “Kiss me.”
“Not until you tell me the truth.” I locked my elbows and remained just out of reach of her lips. “Did you let me win?”
“No.” The way she screwed up her pretty mouth as she answered told me it was indeed the truth, and she wasn’t happy about it.
That made me happy.
Trying to control my triumphant grin and be a good sport, I leaned in. Her honesty deserved a reward. A kiss for now, and a much bigger reward later when we were in private.
“Thank you.” I bracketed her head with my forearms and kissed her, hard and thorough. Probably inappropriate for the gym in my Alexandria apartment building but fuck it. We were alone, for the moment, and I paid enough in rent I should be able to do whatever I wanted on the exercise mats—including giving Alex that big reward.
Hmm, would she go for that? It might be fun . . .
Before I could consider further, I found myself on my back with Alex over me, smiling. “Ha!”
I laughed. “That doesn’t count.”
“It always counts.” She leaned low and took control of the kiss and I couldn’t really complain about the sudden reversal in our positions.
With my hands on her hips I pressed her against my very happy length, growing harder by the second, and decided that maybe I should be letting her win instead of trying to beat her if this was the result.
I was about to suggest we get naughty next to the Nautilus machine when the clearing of a throat drew my attention.
I tipped my head way back and peered behind me to see who Alex was looking at and who had disturbed my bliss.
“Zane,” I said.
“Rosebud,” he replied with a smile.
Alex giggled. He’d already filled her in on the whole story. Now they both enjoyed teasing me.
“Dickhead.” I rolled my eyes. “I’m going to tell the doorman to stop letting you in.”
“You can try but he works for me occasionally and since I’m sure GAPS pays him better than the management of this place, I’m pretty sure his loyalty lies with me.”
That figured. I should have realized the guy at the front door looked a little too military for his job title.
I sighed. The more I hung out with Zane and Alex, the more I realized there were very few people who were actually who they seemed.
To add to my growing misery, Alex pushed off the mat and stood. “I’m going to shower. Meet you upstairs?” she asked.
“Will do.” Maybe if I could ditch Zane quick, I could join her in that shower and finish what we started.
She grabbed her bottle of water and towel, nodded a goodbye to Zane and pushed through the glass door of the gym.
When she was gone and I’d finally gotten up off the floor myself, he cocked up one brow. “So, you two living together now?”
“No. Well not full-time anyway. Only when we’re down here. She still has her apartment in Queens.”
The one that I’d finally gotten inside. She hadn’t kept me out of it because she had a roommate, which she didn’t. She’d prevented me from coming inside because it was set up like a frigging spy lair. Assorted weapons of all types. Surveillance equipment. Photos pinned up on a corkboard. State of the art computers. Even body armor.
Zane nodded. “She ever actually sleep in that apartment in Queens?” he asked.
“Occasionally.” I knew what he was getting at. We were as good as living together and it was too soon for that.
On a cerebral level, I agreed. But on a visceral level, I was more than ready to take things to the next level with Alex. And I had a feeling we would, soon.
I hadn’t discussed it with her yet, but I knew her lease was up in the spring. Perfect timing for us to officially move in together.
“Comment?” I asked Zane.
If he didn’t approve he might as well come right out with it now rather than beating around the bush.
“Not really.” He shook his head.
“No?” I asked, shocked.
“Don’t look so surprised. I like her.” He lifted one shoulder in a shrug.
I scowled. I wasn’t used to Zane supporting my decisions. I didn’t know what to think about it.
“So, the reason I came by . . .” he began.
Finally. I had been wondering the reason for his unannounced social call.
“Yes?”
“Any chance you’ve seen or heard from Chelsea today?”
“Your office manager? No.” The only time I saw her was when I was at his office visiting him or with Alex.
“Can you ask Alex for me, whenever you two are done.”
I frowned. If he was really worried about Chelsea I could control my libido long enough to ask Alex if she’d heard from her.
In fact, I’d do it right now. I reached for where I’d left my cell phone and punched in a text.
As expected, Alex responded right away. She was addicted to her phone. She probably had it in the damn shower with her.
“She hasn’t heard from her either.” I tossed my cell back onto the table and reached for my water bottle. “Why? What’s up?”
He hesitated.
Jesus, all we’d been through and he was still afraid to tell me things?
I clenched my jaw, about to tell him off when he said, “There’s a chance she might be missing.”
My eyes widened.
I’d had almost three solid months of no excitement except for what Alex and I created between the sheets. But I supposed all good things came to an end.
As I waited for Zane to reveal the details in his own good time, all I could think was, here we go again.
Next up: More of Tristan Fairchild in
SPY FOR HIRE
The FOR HIRE series
a Hot SEALs series spin-off
It was more than just a one-night stand.
Chelsea had been there for me when I needed her. Now, she's in trouble and needs help.
Luckily, I'm just the man for the job. MI6, be damned. She's worth going rogue for.
Get SPY FOR HIRE
Catch up with Zane, GAPS and his Navy SEAL teammates in the Hot SEALs Series at
catjohnson.net/hot-seals
Available in eBook, paperback & audiobook!
Want the book where we first meet Brent?
Get SEAL the Deal (Hot SEALs)
Please enjoy this excerpt from Hot Chick for Hire, Chelsea’s story!
; HOT CHICK FOR HIRE
I thought I was interviewing to be an escort.
The job I accidentally ended up getting hired for instead might be even more dangerous. But hey, I figure SEALs and spies have to be preferable to the lowlife's I encountered in my old job at the strip club.
If I had any doubt about that, Mr. MI6 in the GQ suit with the British accent to swoon over was enough to sway my decision.
Now my only concern is when I'll see him again, because one night with Tristan Fairchild is definitely not enough.
EXCERPT
It was a quick trip. All too soon I was standing in front of an innocuous looking office building steeling myself to knock on the unmarked door.
I shouldn’t have been surprised by that. Of course it had nothing written on it.
Angel Escort Services in big bold letters might have raised eyebrows. Whatever catchy tagline this escort agency used would too.
What could their slogan be anyway? Blondes are us. Over one million sleaze bags served.
I snorted out a silent laugh at my own cleverness, hoped I didn't end up in some sheik's harem somewhere, raised my fist and knocked.
There was no answer.
I knocked again and then checked the time on my phone.
It was just before noon. Did escort services only operate in the evenings? I would have thought there'd be at least a receptionist here taking reservations for whoever called for the girl du jour or the mid-week party girl special.
I'd really be cracking myself up if I wasn't scared witless and now mad on top of that. I'd gotten all dressed up, hauled my ass down here and there was no one—
"Can I help you?"
I jumped and spun, my hand already reaching for the pepper spray I had hanging on the strap of my bag. Although a man who was going to attack me probably wouldn't be so polite. Or so freaking cute.
Wow.
In a town full of cookie cutter men in drab business suits, it was a nice change to see a guy in khakis and a black knit shirt.
A breeze ruffled the light brown hair above his green eyes, which I realized were trained on me. No doubt he was waiting for an answer to his question and wondering if I were deaf or mute.
Was this guy an escort service employee or a client? I could get on board with escorting him anywhere he wanted to lead me.
I cleared the lusty frog from my throat and said, "Um, I'm not sure. Maybe. I was looking for Angel—um—Services." I couldn't bring myself to say the word escort and felt like a wimp for it. I rushed to cover by adding, "I heard they're hiring."
"You found us. And you can call it GAPS for short." He tapped the logo embroidered in gold on his shirt just over his heart. "I know the company name's a little long. I'm one of the owners. Zane Alexander." He flashed white teeth and extended his hand. Surprised, I shook it as he continued, "And you're right, we are hiring. Though I'm surprised you heard about it already. My partner must have put out the word."
Another gust of wind had me pulling my hand back from his as I wrapped my arms around myself. I hadn't grabbed a jacket and now I was sorry.
Mr. Zane Alexander, my future pimp since he owned the place, pulled a set of keys out of his pocket. He tipped his head toward the door. "Let's get inside. It's not much yet but at least it's out of the cold."
I nodded and followed him in.
He wasn't exaggerating. It wasn't much. There was a single filing cabinet and a couple of cardboard boxes stacked along one wall. And against the other wall was the biggest flat screen television I'd ever seen, if the picture on the front of the box was accurate.
I turned my attention back to the man who would decide if I had a job in the near future. He had one butt cheek propped on the filing cabinet and his arms crossed as he watched me looking around the empty office.
His silence made me want to say something. Anything. "Nice space."
That was a lie. The empty office made this company feel a little too fly by night for my taste. Like they relocated often and didn't put down deep roots because it was easier to flee the law if they kept moving. And easier to hide the bodies of starry eyed girls with dreams of thousand dollar nights.
The corner of his mouth tipped up in an amused smile. "No it's not. It looks like a front for a shell company in here."
I lifted my brows that he'd read my thoughts so easily. Not to mention accurately.
"Um, well." I tipped my head to the side, searching for words until I finally gave up. Fuck it. I wasn't sure I wanted this job anymore anyway so I figured I might as well tell the truth. "Yeah, it really does."
He nodded. "Honesty. Quality number one I look for in a potential employee."
So I was still in contention to be hired in this most surreal of interviews.
I returned his nod. "As do I for potential employers."
"Do you have a resume, Miss . . ."
Shit. A resume? For an escort service? No, I didn't. I should have thought to bring a head shot. I had plenty of those printed for all the auditions I went on for the jobs I never got.
"Chelsea Bridges. And I didn't bring a resume. I'm sorry."
"That's fine. I'd rather read people than paper anyway. So tell me about yourself, Chelsea."
"Well, I graduated from George Washington University with a degree in acting—and the student loan to go with it."
He laughed. "I can imagine."
He'd said he wanted the truth, so I decided to give it to him. All of it.
"I've done some modeling and some acting but none of that provides a steady paycheck."
"A steady paycheck is a plus. I agree." Zane smiled. “I didn’t realize there were modeling and acting opportunities in this area.”
“They film a lot of TV shows here.” The reality was I’d come to attend George Washington and never moved on.
Landing a speaking role, though short lived, on a cable crime drama right after graduation was enough of a lure to keep me here when I probably should have taken the plunge and moved to California. And the fact the parents were less than a five-hour drive away was a safety net that was hard to give up.
"So let me tell you a little about us and what the job would entail. I signed the lease on this place weeks ago but for a number of reasons I haven't managed much else, as you can see. That would be one thing I'd want you to do. Find and purchase the furnishings. Schedule and wait for the deliveries. We need high speed internet and a landline as well, so you'd need to arrange for that installation. My partner's the organized one and he handles the main office in Virginia Beach. This will be a satellite office since I spend most of my time here in D.C. and we're picking up a lot of business in the area. Government contracts. Private jobs for politicians."
Government contracts. Jesus. Was this what my tax dollars went to? Hiring escorts?
I stood in shocked silence and listened as he outlined a job that sounded more like a personal assistant or secretary than it did an escort servicing the horny diplomats and government employees of D.C..
"Question?" he asked. Again, he had picked up on my thoughts.
"Uh, a few."
"Understandable." He nodded. "Shoot."
How to put this delicately? "What exactly would be my job title?"
His brows rose. "I'm not really sure. I've thought more about how I need a damn chair to sit in rather than what I'd call the person who ordered it. Office manager, maybe." He lifted a shoulder. "After the initial set up, you'd handle everything at this location."
I pressed my lips together. There was no way an office manager of an escort service made what the escorts did. But maybe that wasn't such a bad thing because it seemed as if this would be a real job with a steady paycheck and, unless this Zane guy was some kind of scumbag, no sex required.
"What's it pay?" I asked.
"Fifty-two thousand a year to start."
A thousand dollars a week. I wouldn't be rich but I'd be able to pay my bills and stash a few dollars away into savings. At this point, that was the goal.
"Benefits?" I asked.
"Yes." He nodded.
I put another check in the pro column. I was getting into the idea of this job. So far none of his answers had changed my mind about taking it.
If I could still squeeze in a few auditions and acting or modeling jobs, this gig might work for me.
"Hours?" I asked.
"Flexible, however I'd need to be able to call on you off hours if I needed."
That caught me off guard. "Oh."
Okay, that sounded less good. My mind spun through what he might need me for off hours.
"I travel a lot. Often out of the country. I'll try to be respectful but some things can't wait. I can't be worrying about time zones and interrupting your beauty sleep. Would that be a problem?"
Relieved, I said, "No problem at all."
My beauty sleep had suffered plenty while I'd been working nights at the club and trying to sleep days while normal people were up and about. For a decent job, I could handle a middle of the night phone call from overseas occasionally. No problem.
"Anything else?" he asked.
"Nope. That about covers it. Anything else for me?" I asked.
"Nope." He pushed off the cabinet he'd been leaning against and took a step toward me. "We'll have to clear through all the formalities but I think you've got yourself a job, if you want it."
I smiled. "I want it."
"Good. Your first assignment is to get us a couple of desks and a few chairs. And a coffee maker." He pulled his wallet out of his pants and slid out two things. A credit card and a business card. He handed both to me.
"What do you want me to spend?" I asked.
If it were up to me, I'd be dumpster diving. It's sinful some of the things people throw away. I was getting quite adept at rejuvenating old stuff I found on the curb. A little paint went a long way. But somehow I didn't think that was this guy's style.
"A few thousand, I guess. Whatever it takes. Don't be cheap. This office is going to be the public face of GAPS in D.C.. We charge clients a lot for our services because we're worth it, but we also have to look like we're worth it."