Hunk for the Holidays (3 page)

Like James Bond right before he bopped a shapely beauty, his bow tie was undone and lay flat against the front pleats of the crisp white shirt that was unbuttoned at his tanned throat. He stood looking at Cassie with a slight smile on his firm lips and one brown brow arched over an eye that was the exact color of her Aunt Wheezie’s favorite Scotch.

Cassie forgot to breathe.

“Hi.” The smile deepened, along with two dimples. “I didn’t mean to spook you.” When Cassie still didn’t say anything, the smile dropped and both brows lifted. “Are you okay?”

He walked toward her, and she was reminded of the black panther at the Denver Zoo, his movements sleek and predatory. She swallowed and tried to get her mind off his hot body and back in her head. It was difficult, especially when this wonderful eye candy stood so close and when she and Amy had just been discussing how long it had been since she’d had sex. But hot or not, she needed to remember that this man was one of her employees. She dealt with men all day long. Alpha men. She could handle some pretty boy who worked for an escort service.

She plastered on a smile. “Yes, I’m fine. It’s just that you’re early.”

The quizzical look remained, and he tugged up the sleeve of his jacket and glanced at a watch that looked an awful lot like her father’s Rolex. “No, I’m right on time.”

She waved him off. “It doesn’t matter. You’re here.” She grabbed the car keys from the desk and brushed past him. He smelled really good, like hot spiced cider and primitive lust. Or was the primitive lust her?

“My truck’s down in the parking garage.” She kept talking as she headed toward the elevator. “We’ll take it. The party’s at a house about thirty minutes away, so it’s probably good you got here early.” She pressed the button of the elevator, then turned to steal another peek.

He wasn’t there. He still stood at the receptionist’s desk, although his head had turned to follow her. Okay, so he looked great, but he was a little slow on the uptake. No wonder he worked for an escort service at his age. The elevator doors opened, and she pointed at them.

“Are you coming?”

He tipped his head to one side. “Who are you?”

Oh, so that was it. She just hadn’t introduced herself. She laughed and held the door of the elevator. “I’m Cassie McPherson, your employer for the evening.”

He didn’t move. “My employer?”

Back to the mental deficiency theory. She tried talking slowly and clearly. “Yes, I called Elite Escorts and hired you for the evening to take me to my office Christmas party. I paid in advance, so I expect a little service here. Like maybe you getting a move on.”

His whiskey eyes twinkled, but he still didn’t move. “You’re Cassie McPherson, the daughter of Al McPherson, and you called for a male escort?”

“Right. So are you coming or do I need to get a refund?”

“Your father’s not here, I take it?”

“Not that it makes a difference, but no. He’s at home.”

He might be a simpleton, but, man, the flash of those white, even teeth and dimples were flat-out sexy. “Then I guess I’m all yours for the evening.” He walked over and reached above her head to hold the elevator door. “Here”—he held up a foil-covered condom—“you forgot one.”

Cassie jerked the condom out of his hand and then nearly fell flat on her face as she stumbled over her feet on the way into the elevator. He reached out and steadied her.

“Easy there.”

The door closed, and he pushed one of the buttons while she rubbed the warm imprint he had left on her arm. Her heart thumped wildly against the tight band of her push-up bra. And suddenly she worried if all her high-cholesterol lunches and lack of exercise were catching up to her and besides inheriting her father’s bad disposition, she had also inherited his clogged arteries. She couldn’t bring herself to believe that it had anything to do with the man who so casually leaned back against the rail that ran along the wall of the elevator. Cassie McPherson didn’t go all weak-kneed over men. Even re-e-e-e-ally good-looking ones who belonged in magazine ads for expensive men’s cologne.

She turned away from the hot picture he presented and took two deep breaths, willing her heart to resume its normal cadence. It was hard to do with those eyes pinned on her with such intensity. Hard, but not impossible. She wasn’t called Cast-iron Cassie for nothing. She
never let emotions get in the way of business. And this was business.

Clearing her throat, she explained the terms of his employment. “So here’s what I expect.” She opened her clutch and dropped in her car keys and the condom. “Keep a low profile. Be attentive, but not clingy. And try not to talk. If you’re asked a question about our relationship, simply say that we’ve just met.”

His eyes narrowed, and one side of his mouth tipped up at the corner. Definitely not a smile, more of a smirk. “How about if I just say that I’m not the kind of man who kisses and tells.”

Heat flooded her cheeks, but she held it together. “Just stick to the plan.”

“It seems you have a lot of plans.” He lifted an eyebrow in the direction of her purse. “I’m not sure I can keep up.”

Cassie ignored the innuendo and stayed on track. “The old relatives are the worst. They’ll try to get you to commit to family gatherings and such. Decline gracefully. Don’t drink with my Aunt Louise. She’ll drink you under the table and then interrogate the hell out of you. She looks very sweet, but she’s a barracuda.”

The elevator doors slid open, but not at the parking garage. He stepped out and held the door.

“You pushed the wrong button.” She punched L for the lower level. “I’m parked in the garage.”

He took her arm and gently but firmly pulled her out. “I know, but I’m parked right out front. So we can take my car.”

“I’d rather drive,” she stated as she caught the elevator door before it closed.

“But then you’d be escorting me, and that’s not what I’m getting paid for.” He caressed the underside of her arm. The tingling sensation caused her to pull away.

She turned on him as the elevator door slid closed. “You’re getting paid to follow my orders.”

In her heels, Cassie was only a few inches shorter than he was. So she shouldn’t feel intimidated by his size, not with four brothers who were just as tall, if not taller. Yet there was something about this man that had her taking a step back. She wasn’t frightened, but she was smart enough to be wary.

“And I bet you’re pretty good at giving orders.” He tucked her hand in the crook of his arm and tugged her toward the glass doors. “But right now, it’s my job to get you to a Christmas party, and I intend to do it. After that, you can order me around all you want to.”

She tried to dig in her heels, but she wasn’t exactly stable in the sky-high shoes. The slippery marble floor of the lobby didn’t help.

“I like driving,” she stated through clenched teeth as he pulled her along.

“No doubt.” He reached for the large gold handle of the glass door. “But I’m kinda old-fashioned about that. When I take a woman out, I like to drive.”

“You’ve got to be kidding.”

He glanced down at her. “Nope. Not at all. I don’t like women to pay, open doors, or drive.” He shrugged. “Call it a character flaw.” He pulled open the door.

“Obviously, one among many. Let’s not forget arrogance and stubbornness.” The toes of her shoes hit the threshold, and he was brought up short. “I want to drive.”

“Ms. McPherson?”

They both turned and stared at the worried face of the security guard who had come up behind them. “Is everything all right?”

Cassie thought about saying no and getting her arrogant, stubborn escort tossed out on his ear. But then she wouldn’t have a date for the evening and would have to suffer through all the wives feeling sorry for her and trying to hook her up with some desperate relative. Of course, how much more desperate could you get than hiring an escort for the evening?

She stopped pulling away. “Of course. Everything is fine, Scotty. How is that new baby of yours?”

The tension left Scotty’s face, and he grinned. “As cute as they come. Although he’s not so cute when he keeps me up on my nights off.”

“He’ll outgrow it. My nieces and nephews all did.”

“I hope so.” Scotty moved over to the door. “Let me get that for you, sir.”

“Thank you.” Her escort flashed Scotty one of his megawatt smiles. “Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas, sir.” Scotty nodded at her. “Ms. McPherson.”

The frigid air hit Cassie like an ice-cold fist in the face. With it came the realization that she’d forgotten her coat. She stopped dead in her tracks. And her wallet. And her cell phone. The wallet she could live without, but she never went anywhere without her phone. It was her lifeline. How could she have forgotten it?

She glanced at the man who turned to look at her, and a shiver that had nothing to do with the cold raced through
her body. Great! Now, all because of some pretty face, she was freezing her posterior off with nothing in her purse but her car keys and a gross of condoms.

She tried to pull her hand away, and this time he released it. “I forgot my—” Before she could finish her sentence a heat-infused tuxedo jacket slid over her shoulders, along with a very possessive arm. The warmth that enveloped her melted the rest of her resistance.

Maybe she could go one night without her cell phone.

“This way.” He led her right out to the street, where a brand-new black Land Rover was parked in the no-parking zone. The locks clicked, and he opened the door and waited for her to slip inside. Once the door closed, Cassie was surrounded by the spicy scent that emanated from his jacket and overcome by a feeling that could be described only as… feminine.

Feminine? Cassie McPherson?

She shook her head to clear it. She needed to be careful. This guy was a bona-fide gigolo who knew how to make a woman feel like a woman. A sexy, feminine woman. Which was why he could afford to drive a new Land Rover. The man probably had every wealthy housewife in Denver lined up with their wallets and legs wide open. Which brought up the next point. She waited until they had pulled away from the curb before broaching it.

“About sex.”

The SUV swerved slightly, and she quickly glanced over at him. He didn’t look shocked as much as amused.

“What about sex?”

She stared straight ahead and tried to keep her voice steady. “I don’t want any.”

“Ever?”

She looked back at him. “No, not ever. It’s just that I don’t have sex with escorts.”

“Why not? You’re paying for it.”

Suddenly, her reasons for not having sex with escorts didn’t seem valid anymore. Why shouldn’t she have sex with an escort? Not just anyone, but this one. This tall, hot, arrogant, and slightly dumb escort who probably needed no sexual instruction at all, who probably could make her come just by looking at her.

An expert lover.

Which was the main reason she couldn’t have sex with him. The guy had probably screwed half the female population of the city.

Lucky bitches.

“Because I don’t want some nasty disease.” She mentally kicked herself for blurting out the truth. “Not that you have some nasty disease, but just in case.”

“Then why all the condoms?”

“Those are a joke.”

“Too bad.”

Her head swiveled around to look at him, but his gaze was pinned on the road. “So you hire escorts just for the company?”

“No, believe me. With my big family, I have plenty of company. I hire escorts to keep that big, loving—and sometimes smothering—family from matchmaking.”

He glanced over at her. “That bad, huh?”

She laughed, relieved to be on a less intimate subject. “You don’t know the half of it. I’ve been on so many blind dates, I could write a book on the dos and don’ts.”

“But it must be nice to have a big family.”

She sighed. “Yeah, sometimes. No, I take that back, most of the time. But it would be a lot nicer if I were married.”

“And why aren’t you?”

“I’ve been told I work too much. And I guess they’re right.” She turned in her seat and looked at his profile. He really was perfect. His features were strong and masculine, but not too prominent. “And what about you? And please don’t tell me you have a wife and five kids at home.”

He laughed. “I guess I’ve been told the same thing.”

“You work too much?”

He tipped his head and winked at her. “A true workaholic.”

Chapter Three

The fact that the man sitting next to her
had
screwed half the female population of Denver and loved every minute of it should have cooled Cassie down. It didn’t. Instead, her pulse shot into overdrive, and she had to clamp her legs together and shut her eyes just to get a grip on her rioting libido.

“Hey, you okay?” he asked.

No, she wasn’t. But she would be, just as soon as they got to the party and she could get some space between her workaholic hunka-hunka-burnin’-love and her own quivering, sex-starved body. Or maybe she wouldn’t feel better until she got back to her shower. Either way, things weren’t looking good.

She opened her eyes and glanced over at him. “Yeah, I’m okay. I just need to eat something.” Like a delicious tanned neck. Firm, smiling lips. And whatever else was
hidden beneath that crisp white shirt and those black tuxedo pants.