Escorting the Actress (The Escort Collection Book 2) by Leigh James Page B
Authors: Leigh James
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vacation?"
"Can we just go on an exotic vacation? My favorite beach is in Hawaii. I'd offer to take you, but... I'd need you to front me some cash." I smiled at her, humbled. I'd had all the money in the world for so long, I thought nothing of jetting off to Hawaii for a weekend. I used to do it all the time. But I never brought anyone—I always wanted a fresh island hookup.
I didn't think I realized how gross I was until lately, when I was the fresh hookup.
Lo sat up straighter. "We should totally go to Hawaii. The magazines always have pictures of the stars vacationing there. You can teach me to surf. Perfect photo op."
The idea of her standing on the board in front of me, my hands around her waist as I showed her how to get her balance, made my cock twitch. Down, boy . The days when I answered to it were over.
But I would really like to have my hands around her waist.
But more than that, I needed to be a responsible, competent professional. For once in my life.
"Hawaii is my favorite place in the world. Let's say if we turn this situation around and emerge victorious, we'll treat ourselves and go. When this is all over and you've paid me, so I don't have to borrow money from my hot Hollywood actress girlfriend," I said, winking at her. "But right now? I think we should stay here and work the press."
She nodded. "It's a deal. If we pull this off, I'm going to get back in Lucas's good graces. As long as your dad doesn't rat us out and the press doesn't find out anything."
"Crossing my fingers," I said. My father wasn't an easy man to evade, and the press was just as interested in us as we were hoping—which was both a blessing and a curse. "But do you promise? Hawaii? Someday?"
She smiled at me. "Sure. If we 'emerge victorious' like you said."
"We will." We have to, if I'm gonna finally turn my life around and you're gonna stay in the game . "Can I have some more wine? And will you please have some too?"
She grimaced. "I already ate dinner and had a beer. A big beer, remember? Do you know how many carbs that has?"
I sighed. "Do you think I give a fuck how many carbs it has? Do you need me to tell you how hot you are?"
"No," she said, that blush creeping up her cheeks again.
I grinned. "Are you sure? 'Cause I really don't mind."
Lowell
I took his glass and headed to the kitchen, pretending to give in. The reality was, I wanted a glass of wine. The reality was, I'd like to drink a whole bottle of wine and have an excuse to throw myself at Kyle, to run my fingers along that strong jawline and finally know what those lips tasted like… just once.
Just once, and nobody ever had to know.
Mental slap, I told myself harshly and slammed the glass on the counter, almost breaking the stem. Mental fucking slap.
----
T he next few weeks fell into a surprisingly easy routine. I supposed that was because we'd lived in the same house before. Strangely, I didn't remember ever being as comfortable around him while we were kids as I was now.
Like a lot of other things, I was choosing to ignore that.
Every morning, we had coffee in our pajamas. Kyle and I took turns going out and offering hot coffee and baked goodies to the paparazzi. There were always a plethora of them out there, even early in the morning.
Then we got dressed in our workout clothes and held hands as we walked to my car, smiling for the press.
After a punishing two-hour workout—Kyle always made me post pictures to social media so Lucas knew we were working up a sweat—we headed over to Jamba Juice, always holding hands, followed by the press. We'd all gotten used to the routine—even the Jamba Juice attendants. They knew our regular orders and usually had our drinks waiting for us.
After that, we'd head home, shower, and eat lunch. Then I would read scripts and check email while Kyle checked social media sites for news about us.
Then we'd change and head out for our next public spectacle.
We went to Whole Foods. We went out for (fat-free)
"Can we just go on an exotic vacation? My favorite beach is in Hawaii. I'd offer to take you, but... I'd need you to front me some cash." I smiled at her, humbled. I'd had all the money in the world for so long, I thought nothing of jetting off to Hawaii for a weekend. I used to do it all the time. But I never brought anyone—I always wanted a fresh island hookup.
I didn't think I realized how gross I was until lately, when I was the fresh hookup.
Lo sat up straighter. "We should totally go to Hawaii. The magazines always have pictures of the stars vacationing there. You can teach me to surf. Perfect photo op."
The idea of her standing on the board in front of me, my hands around her waist as I showed her how to get her balance, made my cock twitch. Down, boy . The days when I answered to it were over.
But I would really like to have my hands around her waist.
But more than that, I needed to be a responsible, competent professional. For once in my life.
"Hawaii is my favorite place in the world. Let's say if we turn this situation around and emerge victorious, we'll treat ourselves and go. When this is all over and you've paid me, so I don't have to borrow money from my hot Hollywood actress girlfriend," I said, winking at her. "But right now? I think we should stay here and work the press."
She nodded. "It's a deal. If we pull this off, I'm going to get back in Lucas's good graces. As long as your dad doesn't rat us out and the press doesn't find out anything."
"Crossing my fingers," I said. My father wasn't an easy man to evade, and the press was just as interested in us as we were hoping—which was both a blessing and a curse. "But do you promise? Hawaii? Someday?"
She smiled at me. "Sure. If we 'emerge victorious' like you said."
"We will." We have to, if I'm gonna finally turn my life around and you're gonna stay in the game . "Can I have some more wine? And will you please have some too?"
She grimaced. "I already ate dinner and had a beer. A big beer, remember? Do you know how many carbs that has?"
I sighed. "Do you think I give a fuck how many carbs it has? Do you need me to tell you how hot you are?"
"No," she said, that blush creeping up her cheeks again.
I grinned. "Are you sure? 'Cause I really don't mind."
Lowell
I took his glass and headed to the kitchen, pretending to give in. The reality was, I wanted a glass of wine. The reality was, I'd like to drink a whole bottle of wine and have an excuse to throw myself at Kyle, to run my fingers along that strong jawline and finally know what those lips tasted like… just once.
Just once, and nobody ever had to know.
Mental slap, I told myself harshly and slammed the glass on the counter, almost breaking the stem. Mental fucking slap.
----
T he next few weeks fell into a surprisingly easy routine. I supposed that was because we'd lived in the same house before. Strangely, I didn't remember ever being as comfortable around him while we were kids as I was now.
Like a lot of other things, I was choosing to ignore that.
Every morning, we had coffee in our pajamas. Kyle and I took turns going out and offering hot coffee and baked goodies to the paparazzi. There were always a plethora of them out there, even early in the morning.
Then we got dressed in our workout clothes and held hands as we walked to my car, smiling for the press.
After a punishing two-hour workout—Kyle always made me post pictures to social media so Lucas knew we were working up a sweat—we headed over to Jamba Juice, always holding hands, followed by the press. We'd all gotten used to the routine—even the Jamba Juice attendants. They knew our regular orders and usually had our drinks waiting for us.
After that, we'd head home, shower, and eat lunch. Then I would read scripts and check email while Kyle checked social media sites for news about us.
Then we'd change and head out for our next public spectacle.
We went to Whole Foods. We went out for (fat-free)
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