Hurting To Feel (Carpool Dolls) (2 page)

He
glanced at Pierce. "Uh, yeah. Fine."

"Hey,
what's wrong?" Pierce leaned forward, looked in the car, and chuckled.
"Lose your doll?

He
pushed the button on the remote to unlock the car and hurried to the driver's
door. "I'll see you Monday."

Inside,
he started the engine and pulled away from the curb. He inserted the earpiece
into his ear. "Office."

After
several rings, the answering machine came on. He disconnected the call.
Shit.

He
owed Addison more than a ride home. She deserved payment for helping him make
it downtown in time to cushion his bank account. He glanced at the passenger
seat and his chest tightened. A white business card sat on the leather. Holding
the card toward the window to catch the glow from the streetlights he read.

Carpool
Dolls – Call us when you need the perfect woman to ride in the passenger seat.
Special requests extra. We'll take you there faster. Addison.

He
dropped the card on his lap and stared out at the street. Special requests
extra? Oh, hell no. He shook his head. Janice needed a vacation.

Addison
wasn't only a doll. She was a paid escort.

Chapter
Two

On
the third floor, in the old Kiggin's building in downtown Vancouver, Addison
Flint grabbed her purse, checked her hair in the mirror hanging on her office
door, and hurried to the elevator. Between the second and first floor, she
checked her watch.

Six
o'clock.

She
smiled as the doors swished open and walked across the lobby and out onto the
sidewalk. After locking the front door, she stood in front of the building
waiting for her last client. Usually she took a taxi to her pickup, but since
the appointment was for Mr. Rafferty, a returning client, she agreed with his
secretary to allow him to meet her at the office.

Besides,
everyone knew the most eligible bachelor who ran Rafferty Enterprise. She'd
seen the magazine articles, the documentary last summer as they showed the life
of the man who'd gone from the streets to owning his own company, and the many
news shows announcing another boost to his career. His openness about being
involved in a gang, stealing cars as a teenager, and striving for better in his
life endeared her to him.

Ambitious
and rich, he shocked her yesterday. Up close, she could imagine him stripping
off the suit and tie and still capable of fitting into the bad boy role.

There
was something wildly sexy about a man who wore a Gucci suit, silk shirt, and tattoos
he couldn't hide behind the collar of his shirt. She pressed her hand to her
stomach. Yesterday, she'd found it impossible not to stare at him while he
drove her to Portland.

She'd
let her imagination go wild, imagining what'd be like to know Mr. Rafferty
better. Even going as far as wanting to stick around after he ran out of the
car, but in the end she left out of fear. Physically sick after arriving home,
she ate a half a pint of jelly straight out of the jar. God, that would've been
a huge mistake.

She
prided herself on remaining unattached and professional. The rules by which she
ran Carpool Dolls came from a deep need to help those who would otherwise be on
the corner of Broadway and First Street, selling their bodies to any person
with an Andrew Jackson in their pocket.

Every
one of the women in her employ came from one of the homeless shelters around
Vancouver. She'd gathered them up, taught each one of the girls skills that
didn't involve lying on their back, and outfitted them with clothes and a
reason to come to work every day.

A
car passed in front of her, heading toward I-5. She inhaled deeply, taking the
time to collect herself before facing the man who somehow made her feel too
alive. Today's phone call surprised her. She never pictured Nate—she
swallowed—Mr. Rafferty ever using her service again.

Usually,
she'd send one of the other dolls out on the call, but Mr. Rafferty's secretary
asked for her personally. She opened her purse, double-checked that she had the
keys for her car she left in the parking garage in Portland. Her curiosity over
the request went unanswered, because she decided knowing why Mr. Rafferty chose
her really wasn't any of her business.

A
black BMW pulled in front of her and stopped. She stepped forward and leaned
down into the open window in time to catch Mr. Rafferty exiting the driver's
side of the car.

He
hurried around the vehicle and opened the car door. "I hope you weren't
waiting long."

She
lowered her gaze and slid onto the leather seat. "Not at all."

While
he walked around to the other side, she watched him. Her heart pounded. Tonight
he didn't seem to be in a hurry, and although some male clients opened her
door, she understood being on the clock didn't always come with manners.

Mr.
Rafferty folded his over six foot tall body behind the steering wheel.
"Thanks for making time for me tonight."

She
waited for him to start the car, but he sat looking at her. "We try to
cater to the wishes of our clients."

He
tilted his head. "We? How many people work at Carpool…Dolls?"

She
smiled at the way his voice lowered on the last word as if saying dolls was
beneath a man. "Right now, eight. During the holidays and when there's a
popular event at the coliseum, there are twelve girls."

His
brows rose. "Huh. Interesting."

She
crossed her legs, and set her purse on her lap. "Mr. Rafferty?"

"Yeah?"
He took his time lifting his gaze from her legs to her eyes.

"Usually
clients hire one of the dolls, in this case me, because you're in a
hurry." She moistened her lips. "Perhaps we should be going?"

"Right."
He started the car, looked at her again, and pulled away from the curb.

Through
the old part of town, he navigated the roads silently. Content to ride along,
she peered out at the same scene she viewed every day.

The
now empty Sears building, the only walk-up Burgerville left in the Pacific
Northwest, and the newly widened entrance to I-5 were familiar scenes. Once on
the bridge, over the Columbia River, she peered off into the turbulent water. Many
people never paid attention to their surroundings, but she did. She knew which
road went where, and how to take the shortest route.

The
traffic flowed fast exiting the bridge, and she glanced at Mr. Rafferty.
"It might be better if you use the carpool lane, since you're paying to
use it."

He
weaved into the far left lane. "You do this all day long?"

"No."
She gazed down at his hand on the gearshift. "Two hours in the morning and
two hours in the evening."

How
could a man who dealt with the business side of his company manage to have
rough, work-worn hands? She followed his arm up to his face and caught him
watching her.

"You
can survive working such few hours?" He whistled. "I guess people are
willing to pay a high price for the, uh, special requests."

She
studied his posture, which went rock solid. Not liking what he was insinuating,
she merely looked out the side window to hide the disappointment and said, "Definitely."

Several
minutes passed, and Mr. Rafferty exited off the interstate and took the
Freemont Bridge heading downtown. His phone, sitting in the holder on his dash,
rang. Addison watched him push the button, putting the call on speaker.

"Yes,
Janice?" he said.

"Don't
forget you're scheduled to have drinks at the Hyatt at seven o'clock."
Several clicks came over the speaker. "Black tie. You have reservations
for two for dinner. I've put you down for chicken…last time you disliked the
fish."

"Reschedule,
please," he said.

"Sir,
I have a note here that I'm not to allow you to miss the drinks. Mr. Cartman
will be there, and you want to personally thank him for the timeshare."

"Shit,"
he mumbled.

Addison
listened curiously. She'd talked to Janice on the phone twice now, and decided
right then she liked the woman. Anyone who could put up with Mr. Rafferty and
make him fulfill his obligation had a spine of steel.

"Do
you want me to call Suzanne and see if she'll be your date tonight?"
Janice asked.

"No.
I'll figure out something." Mr. Rafferty glanced at Addison.

"Great.
Then I'll tell you good night, Mr. Rafferty. I'm leaving the office, and I'll
see you tomorrow, bright and early like always. Toodles."

He
pushed the disconnect button and turned off onto a side street. Addison removed
her cell phone out of her purse. Normally, her clients ended the ride in the
downtown district and she enjoyed walking to the parking garage or calling a
cab for an easy trip back to Vancouver. Nevertheless, taxis were notoriously
slow picking her up in outlying neighborhoods and she'd make sure to bill Mr.
Rafferty accordingly.

Mr.
Rafferty reached out and grabbed her wrist, stopping her from placing the call.
"How much does it cost if I ask you to come have a drink with me?"

"I'm
sorry. Having drinks isn't a service I provide." She extracted her arm
from his grasp, and rubbed her skin. Her heart raced. "If you'll excuse
me, I'll call a cab."

"Wait."
He turned his head, blew out his breath, and returned his attention to her.
"Listen, I know what you do for a living. I need someone, a female, to go
with me to meet a few business friends. You'll be my excuse to get out of there
before midnight. Name a price, I'll pay you."

Was
this guy serious?

"I'm
afraid that's not possible. There are strict rules about hiring a Carpool Doll
and working after hours without prior approval is a call for immediate
dismissal," she said.

She'd
enforced the rule herself, because many of the men tried to convince the dolls
to escort them to parties, dinners, and to their bedrooms. Besides maintaining
a clean reputation, she had to keep her girls safe.

"Do
you always follow the rules?" His gaze dropped to the front of her dress.

She
pursed her lips and studied him. "Yes."

"Come
on, you can break the rules. For me?" He shot her a well-intended look
that started her ovaries dancing.

Tempted
to find out more about the millionaire mogul that fought his way to the top,
she fingered the keypad on her phone. What would a couple drinks hurt? She
wouldn't charge him. Her prior plans for tonight amounted to doing two loads of
laundry and curling up on the couch to watch the first season of Dexter.

She
nodded, sending a text to Gee asking her to lock up and giving her the new
plans. "Okay, but I have rules."

"Great."
He started the car.

Apparently
uninterested in what she had to say, he concentrated on driving. She raked her
teeth over her bottom lip. God, he was gorgeous.

But,
she wasn't going to make a mistake.

"I
need to be dropped off at the Lincoln parking garage by ten o'clock," she
said.

"Sure,"
he said.

"If
I decide to leave before you're ready, you won't stop me from calling a
cab." She slipped her cell back in her purse. "Also, you pay for
anything I eat or drink."

"Got
it," he murmured.

"Last
rule—she waited until he glanced at her again—you're not allowed to touch
me."

There.
She tilted her head, pleased with herself for coming across as a professional,
mature, unstoppable, dom—

"Can't
do that one, Addy." He spoke softly, maneuvering the traffic as he fought
to find an opening to change lanes.

The
way he'd shortened her name wasn't lost on her. "W-what do you mean?"

"I
plan to have you beside me all evening. That requires me to put my hand on your
back. When we talk with the other men in the lounge, I expect you to act like
you're there for me because it's the only place you want to be. Occasionally,
I'll probably forget that you have a no touching rule, and I'll play with the
strand of hair that despite your attempt at pushing it behind your shoulder during
the car trip keeps falling along your cheek. So, if you can't handle me
touching you in the simplest ways, then speak now and I'll take you to the
parking garage and we'll call it good night." He brought the car to a
stop, swung his arm over her head, and grabbed the headrest before parallel
parking. When he shut off the engine, he looked at her. "You can handle
the job, right?"

Could
she handle the job? Go out with Portland's most eligible bachelor? She
swallowed hard.

"All
right, I agree on your terms," she whispered.

His
mouth softened and before she could protest, he fingered the strand of hair he
was just talking about and gave it a gentle tug. "Perfect," he
whispered back.

Frick.
Frick. Frick.
She always protected herself.
One
appointment with Mr. Rafferty and she'd put herself in a position to run into
the one person she never wanted to set eyes on again.