Hunk for the Holidays by Katie Lane Page A

bra out of her hands and handed her a steaming mug. She stood like Lot’s solidified wife with the mug in her hand while he slipped the bra over her breasts and, with very little effort, hooked it together.
    “There,” he said, acting as if it was something he did every day.
    It probably was. Earth to Cassie; he’s an escort. Considering the nice house he lived in, the man had probablyclasped and unclasped thousands of bras. The thought pulled her out of her embarrassed trance, and she handed the mug back to him, picked up her dress, and slipped it over her head. It was backward, but she wasn’t about to take it off again.
    “Thanks,” she said as she took the mug back.
    Those golden eyes of his looked a little hot and glassy as he smiled down at her. “Anytime.”
    She took a sip of coffee, burned her tongue, and grimaced.
    “It’s hot,” he said.
    “Right.” She ran her teeth over her scalded tongue and glared at him.
    He studied her, and those eyes turned hotter. “You want me to kiss it and make it better?”
    Everything inside of her pooled together into one simmering mass. She felt limp and warm and dizzy. God, the man looked even more delicious in full daylight. He wore a cream cable-knit sweater with a turtleneck that framed his smooth, strong jaw and brushed the curls of brown hair at the nape of his neck. Last night his hair had been slicked back and styled. Today, it was mussed and sexy. A lock fell over his forehead. Her fingers tingled with the need to reach up and brush it back.
    And her fingers weren’t the only thing tingling. No wonder the man had such nice things. Women probably spent their life savings just to have the pleasure of looking at him. She had to admit that he was one fine piece of art.
    She pulled her gaze away from him and looked around for her purse. She spotted it on the dresser and walked over to pick it up. “I really need to be going.”
    “What’s your hurry?” he asked, then nodded at the purse with a knowing grin. “I thought you threw all the condoms away.”
    For the second time that morning, Cassie’s face heated up. “I lied.”
    James tipped his head back and laughed. It was a hearty laugh, one that came straight from a man’s gut. She couldn’t help but smile. Looking at him, she thought that maybe losing her entire life savings would be well worth keeping this man around for a while.
    “A while” was the key word. After her money ran out, so would he.
    He winked at her. “I’m glad you lied.”
    Cassie opened her mouth to say something, but she didn’t know what. “I’m glad I lied too” just didn’t seem like enough. Or maybe too much. So instead she nodded and looked around for a place to set down the coffee that was still too hot. With the top of the dresser covered by his tuxedo shirt and tie, she couldn’t find a spot. So she handed it back to him.
    “Look, I need to be going.”
    A look of disbelief came into his eyes. “So that’s it?” James sounded extremely offended. It took a moment to figure out why.
    The tip.
    Of course he was offended. He had endured a puking nympho and he expected to be compensated for it. She couldn’t blame him. She gave her masseuse a huge tip, and all the guy did was rub her muscles. This man had rubbed a whole lot more. Unfortunately, she didn’t have anything in her purse but a pile of condoms. Which heprobably could use, but wouldn’t appreciate as much as money. Besides, she couldn’t stand the thought of him using them on another woman.
    Which brought up a good question: How many clients did James have in one day? As soon as he dropped off Cassie, would he be on his way to another desperate woman who was tired of her showerhead? A woman who wasn’t as bossy, could hold her champagne, and knew how to tip.
    Cassie knew how to tip too. Just not for sex. If she gave twenty percent for a hot wax, should she give the same for hot sex? Of course, a wax job took no more than an hour and hurt like hell. She