Chapter Four

JC found himself pacing again, looking at his watch consistently. He had been on pins and needles for a good portion of the afternoon, waiting to hear what the verdict was. His heart leapt when he received a confirmation text saying that Marlowe was available. Time couldn’t go by fast enough after that.

Now, it was several minutes past ten, and he was starting to think that she wouldn’t show up. He kept looking at the phone, wondering if he would get a cancelation text or something that told him she wasn’t coming. But the phone remained silent and his nerves remained frayed.

At a quarter past the hour, there was a soft knock on his door. He didn’t think he’d ever moved so quickly in his life. Opening it, he saw her standing there, eyes as cool as they had been the night before. She was wearing a smart Burberry trench coat and, because he was who he was, his mind automatically wandered to whether she was wearing anything underneath.

“Come in,” he said softly, standing aside. For a split second, he thought he saw her hesitate. But then she sailed past him and he was left with the intoxicating scent of her perfume as he closed the door.

“So I hear you asked for me again,” she said in the same dispassionate tone.

“Yes. I did.”

“I suppose you’re angry about how things ended last night. I apologize for that. I wasn’t feeling very well.”

“No, that’s not why… are you feeling better now?”

“Yes, I’m fine. So…shall we get started?”

JC frowned as she untied her coat, letting it drop to the floor as she let her hair down from its bun, turning to face him. She was wearing a black satin corset, trimmed with lace, which displayed her breasts to their fullest advantage. Over her hip-hugging panties was a garter belt that held up black, sheer, silk stockings.

Had it been any other woman, he would have been on top of her within seconds. But he suddenly didn’t like the no-nonsense way she was addressing their tryst. He didn’t like thinking that this was just a job for her – that he was just another client. He had been thinking about her all day, nearly going out of his mind, and she was standing there as if this was just another in a series of errands she had to do.

“Is there a problem?” she asked when he hadn’t said anything for a few minutes.

“I…would you like a drink?”

Kit frowned. She had psyched herself into a particular mood for the evening, wanting to repress any type of emotion and just focus on the sex. But when she had turned to face him, he looked like a deer in headlights and she couldn’t understand why he wasn’t treating her the way he treated the other women he had been with.

“I…sure,” she replied.

He walked over to the bar and she went to sit on the bed, crossing her legs as she watched him. His back was to her, so she took in the line of his body. His shoulders were broader than she had originally thought. A sudden image of her nails digging into those shoulders the night before flew through her mind and she closed her eyes for a moment, pushing it away.

“How do you like your Scotch?” he asked, and she opened her eyes to see him looking at her, a glass of amber liquid in his hand.

“Neat,” she replied, taking it from him. She took a small sip, the familiar burn of alcohol sliding down her throat. The quality, however, was unmistakable.

“Very nice,” she said, looking at him as he threw back his own glass.

He smiled slightly. “Thirty year old Scotch. They know what they’re doing over on your side of the Atlantic.”

She looked up at him, watching him watching her. She tried to keep her look cool and uncaring. The last thing she needed was for her façade to break again. She had to keep reminding herself that he was a client. This was just business.

“I can’t get you out of my head,” he finally said. This admission seemed to catch her off-guard, so he continued. “I don’t know what type of hold you have over me, but whatever it is, it’s incredibly distracting.”

Kit stared at him for a moment before saying, “I can’t imagine what it is about me that distracts you. I’m sure I’m no different from any of the other women you’ve been with.”

He tilted his head to the side. “You know, I didn’t ask for a cold businesswoman tonight.”

She blinked, startled. “You…you said you wanted the same thing as yesterday.”

He shook his head. “I wanted the same woman as yesterday – you. But I didn’t specify a demeanor.”

Her brow furrowed, processing this. Without a character, she knew she wouldn’t be able to keep the boundaries up. “So…what do you want?”

He smiled slightly. “How about the real you?”

She tensed. “The real me is not for sale.”

“That’s good, because I’m not trying to buy her.”

“Listen, Mr. Scott…”

“I would really prefer it if you called me Josh.”

She shook her head. “Let’s not play coy. We both know why I’m here, so why don’t we just…get on with it.”

He arched an eyebrow. “That’s direct.”

“Well…it’s a pretty straight-forward service.”

He smiled slightly. “You truly are an incredibly perplexing woman.”

“I’m really not.”

“Any woman as smart, witty and beautiful as you who willingly decides to become an escort does not sound like a simple human being.”

“Perhaps I just like sex.”

“If it were that simple, you could be anything you wanted to be. Men would fall at your feet for the opportunity to fuck you.”

“Maybe I’m just in it for the money.”

He shrugged. “Maybe you are. I just don’t think so.”

She sighed, uncrossing her legs and leaning forward. “What do you want from me? You called, I’m here…why are we not fucking yet?”

He stared at her quizzically, trying to figure her out. “Why are you so eager? We have the whole night.”

She sighed, kicking off her heels and sliding up the bed to the pillows, getting comfortable before crossing her ankles and taking a sip of her Scotch. “Alright. What would you like to do?”

JC couldn’t help his body’s natural reaction to her laying there. He admitted she looked incredibly sexy. And while he was more than happy to take advantage of her willingness to submit, he realized that he wasn’t in any hurry, which was new for him.

Kit watched as he slowly put his glass on the bar before walking into the bathroom. He exited a moment later with a fluffy terrycloth bathroom. Tossing it to her, she caught it before frowning.

“You…want me to cover up?” she asked, arching an eyebrow.

“If you wouldn’t mind.”

“Don’t you like what I’m wearing?”

“I do. Very much so. Which is why I’d like you to cover up.”

Thoroughly confused, Kit nevertheless did what she was told. Once she had secured the tie, she looked at him. She was floored when she saw him consulting the room service menu.

“Hungry?” he asked. She opened her mouth to decline, but her stomach chose that moment to growl. She blushed as he chuckled. “I’ll take that as a yes. The steak au poivre is pretty good. How do you take yours?”

She stared at him for a moment before she started laughing. She couldn’t help it. It was quite possibly the most ridiculous situation she had been in. There she was, lying on the enormous, luxurious bed of a five-star hotel wearing expensive lingerie in front of a gorgeous man, and he was suggesting food as nonchalantly as if he was recommending a meal at a restaurant.

JC watched as she started laughing. The sound went straight to his groin. It was the laugh she had stifled the night before – the honest, unabashed laugh that both surprised and delighted him. He couldn’t help but smile at her, waiting for her to stop.

“I’m sorry,” she said, hiccupping as she tried to stop laughing, which only made her laugh harder. “Okay. Um…I like my steaks medium-well. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” he replied with a smile before picking up the hotel phone.

After he had ordered, he crawled onto the bed next to her, propping himself up on his elbow and looking down at her. She swallowed hard, trying not to get caught up in his eyes. She couldn’t help but find them mesmerizing. The bright blue hue seemed to take her in like a tractor beam.

“So,” he said softly. “Tell me something you wouldn’t normally tell a stranger.”

She gave him an odd look. “If I wouldn’t normally tell it to a stranger, why would I tell it now?”

“Because it’s either that or we can stare awkwardly at each other until the food arrives.”

She smiled slightly. “Um…okay…well…” She frowned slightly, thinking. “When I was ten, I decided it would be wise to sign my name in every book I owned.”

He smiled slightly. “When I was ten, I was so shy I could barely look anyone in the eye,” he said.

“You seem to have gotten over that now, though.”

“It took therapy. And electric shock treatment.” She gave him a wary look and he chuckled. “I’m kidding.”

She sighed in relief. “Oh.”

“About the therapy. The electric shock treatment was totally real.”

She laughed and he smiled, taking a hand and tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear. He paused as she flinched. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” she replied quickly.

“Women don’t usually flinch when I touch them.”

“Touched a lot of women, have you?”

“I’ve had my fair share.”

“And then some,” she mumbled, looking away.

He slowly tilted her head back to look at him. “I haven’t had as many women as you’d like to think I have.”

“You’ve had a good portion of the girls at…at the company.”

“I’ve had maybe half a dozen, and that’s different.”

Her eyes went cold once more. “How is that different?”

“To me, there’s a difference between pure sex and actually touching someone.”

“And what makes tonight different from those other girls?”

He tilted his head. “I don’t know yet.” She swallowed, looking away again. He turned her head once more and looked into his eyes. “Do you want me to treat you the way I treat them? All sex and physical pleasure and no conversation?”

“I don’t know why I deserve any special treatment.”

“None of those women have gotten under my skin as completely as you have.”

She sighed. “Well, aren’t I lucky.”

He gave a frustrated sigh. “Would you really rather I didn’t bother? Do you just want me to rip your clothes off and fuck you all night?”

She couldn’t help the thrill that went through her at the desperation in his voice. “Don’t…don’t you want to?”

“Of course I want to. But I also know that if I do that, I’ll be crossing a line I’m not really ready to cross.”

“What line? It’s what you’re paying for.”

He sighed. “That’s the line I’m not really ready to cross.”

She arched an eyebrow. “You didn’t seem to have a problem with it last night.”

“I didn’t know you last night.”

“You don’t know me now.”

“I’d like to.”

“Trust me…you wouldn’t.”

He moved closer, cupping her chin in his large hand, swiping a long finger over her lower lip. She shivered at the touch, a fine layer of goose bumps appearing over her skin. His lips lowered to hers and for a moment she thought he was going to kiss her, but he just hovered there, taking her in before brushing his lips over her nose and eyelids.

“Tell me a secret you haven’t told anyone else,” he breathed into her ear.

She inhaled, the sensuality of his voice sweeping across her body like mink on bare skin. She licked her lips, trying to focus on anything but him. “I don’t have any secrets.”

He chuckled, teeth nibbling gently at her earlobe. “Somehow I doubt that.”

“I’m a very simple girl.”

“Again, I doubt that.”

“Think what you want.”

He looked down at her face again, and saw the walls building up. Her jaw was set, her eyes fixed on the ceiling. He sighed, letting his forehead fall on her stomach. Her reticence was almost frightening.

“How about I try to guess your real name?”

She smiled slightly in spite of herself. “You could try.”

“Would you tell me if I got it right?”

She scoffed. “If you get it, sure.”

“Will you give me clues?”

“No.”

He sighed. “Is it Rumpelstiltskin?”

She smiled, looking down at his face. “No.”

He bit his lip. “Is it Belle?”

“No.”

“Jasmine?”

“No.”

“Wendy?”

“No.”

“Cinderella?”

She laughed. “I’m not named after a Disney princess.”

He grinned. “You just gave me a hint.”

“Yes, well, I figured I’d nip that in the bud before you got to Timon and Pumba.”

He chuckled. “Alright…how about I ask you ‘yes’ and ‘no’ questions to guess.”

“No.”

“Come on, you have to give me something.”

She laughed again. “No I don’t.”

“At least tell me if it’s a common name.”

“What constitutes a common name these days?”

He shook his head. “You’re not going to let me enjoy this game, are you?”

She shrugged. “You can do whatever you like, however you’d like to do it.”

“What will it take for you to tell me your real name?”

“An act of God.”

“That’s vague.”

“So is God.”

He was once again struck by her intelligence. He wasn’t used to the type of easy banter he shared with her. He marveled at it, wondering once more how someone like her would end up in the type of job she had.

“What would you like to talk about?” he asked her.

She blinked, looking at him. She had never been asked that question before by a client. Usually, if there was talking involved at all, the client was the one who did most of the legwork. She had never been shouldered with the burden of pushing along a conversation.

“What would you like to talk about?” she countered.

“You.”

“Yes, well, that’s not a subject on which I’m willing to divulge much information.”

He smiled slightly. “Where did you go to school?”

Her brow furrowed. “Why is that important?”

“Because you’re incredibly smart.”

“It’s all for show, Mr. Scott.”

“It’s Josh.”

She sighed. “Let’s talk about why you seem so insistent on sharing your first name with me.”

“Considering you are so forthcoming with yours, you mean?”

“You know my name.”

“Marlowe isn’t your real name.”

“How do you know?”

“Because no one in their right mind would use their real name for your job.”

“Who says I’m in my right mind?”

He smiled slightly. “That’s a fair point.”

She gave him a wry smile. “Now are you eager to get to know me?”

“More than ever, yes.”

She sighed. “This is hopeless. I’m not going to tell you anything, Mr. Sco—”

She was cut off by his lips on hers, and she moaned at the aggression. He was just as unrelenting as he had been the night before, sweeping his tongue through her mouth and dueling passionately with hers. She gripped the back of his head, fingers plunging into his hair as his body shifted over hers. She could feel the weight of him on top of her and she couldn’t help but want to feel the same explosive pleasure that she had experienced the night before.

He pulled away as suddenly as he came, his eyes burning bright as he looked down at her. “Don’t call me ‘Mr. Scott’ again,” he breathed darkly.

“Or what?” she countered.

He leaned in to her ear. “Or I will dedicate the entire night to bringing you to the brink of orgasm so many times that you will be begging me to let you cum, and I won’t.”

She shivered in spite of herself. “And how are you going to stop me from finishing the job myself?”

He grinned wickedly. “I have my ways.”

She didn’t doubt him.

She looked at him in silence and realized she was panting. With one kiss, he had managed to reduce her to a puddle of sexual desire. She wanted him more than she had ever wanted anyone in her entire life and he hadn’t done much more than kiss her.

Warning bells were going off in her head but she was in no position to run away again.

JC watched her eyes. He had discovered that as much as she tried, the beautiful hazel-green orbs were the most expressive things about her. He watched, fixated, as a mixture of lust, fear and resolve flicked through them before settling on a cool disinterest.

“There are certain lines that we shouldn’t cross, Mr…Josh,” she finally said, stopping herself from saying his client name when she saw warning in his eyes. “You knowing my real name is one of them.”

“Why?”

“Because there’s a benefit to anonymity. For both of us.”

JC could appreciate that. However reluctantly.

“Alright. Tell me one specific, true thing about yourself and I’ll do the same.”

“I don’t particularly want to know something true about you.”

“Really? You’ve never been curious about the lives your clients lead? Wondering if they have wives, children? What type of careers do they have, maybe what their real names are?”

“It’s dangerous to start asking yourself those questions when you do what I do.”

He looked into her eyes, trying to figure out his next move. She was watching him, obviously trying to do the same thing.

“I’m not married,” he finally said. “I don’t have kids. I love my career but it’s not perfect. And Scott isn’t my last name.”

Kit tried to remain looking apathetic, but she couldn’t help the tiny flip her stomach did when he told her he wasn’t married. That was an incredibly dangerous feeling. She had to bury that quickly.

“That’s fascinating,” she said dryly.

“What can I say, I lead an exciting life.” She smiled wryly but remained quiet. He raised his eyebrows. “Your turn.”

She shrugged. “Married. Two kids. House in the suburbs. A mild-mannered accountant by day, high-priced hooker by night. And Scott isn’t my last name either.”

His eyes had gone wide when she had started but after her last sentence they narrowed. “That’s not funny.”

“It’s a little bit funny.”

He gave her a withering look. “Is one honest piece of information going to kill you?”

“Why are you so keen to know about me?”

“You fascinate me.”

“You clearly don’t have a lot of other things to do with your time.”

“I would, but as I said earlier in the evening, you have a hold on me that’s incredibly distracting.”

She opened her mouth to speak but a knock at the door interrupted her. He reluctantly crawled off the bed and went to answer it. Kit exhaled slowly. She was running out of roadblocks to throw and she was quickly starting to wonder whether it would be such a bad idea to open up just a little to him.

She let herself fall back into the pillows, the scent of a well-cooked meal wafting through the air. She was hungry. Perhaps some food would give her the strength to resist his unique brand of charm.

She could only hope, anyway.