Ménage for the Night by C. J. Fallowfield, Book Cover By Design, Karen J Page A

private life? I laughed again, what private life? I
didn’t have one. No, the last time I’d been fully in the moment with a woman,
was with my virgin for the night appointment with Summer Beresford.
    Damn it. Nine months, nine bloody months and I still
couldn’t get that damn woman out of my head. Her booking hadn’t just been about
me performing a service for monetary reward, she’d got to me in ways no other
woman ever had, not even in my sorely lacking personal life outside of “the
job.” She’d made me feel, care, and want to protect. I could really fall for
her in real life. I shook my head with a wry smile. Who the fuck was I kidding?
I had really fallen for her, and the real kicker? She hadn’t had a damn
clue. She assumed all my words and actions were just Logan Steele, experienced hired
seductor of women doing what she’d paid him to do. I’d tried to forget about
her, even deleted her client file and blocked her email, just in case she tried
to book me again. Never get emotionally attached to a client was my main
mantra, one I’d seriously fucked up the day I accepted her booking. The trouble
was, her debut movie was having its premiere in Leicester Square next Saturday
night and everywhere I looked, there she was. Magazine covers, interviews on
the television, billboards, even on the damn radio. I couldn’t forget her even
if I wanted to. I’d even had a moment of weakness and had driven to where she
lived and parked up the street, sitting in my car for an hour while I argued
with myself as to whether to knock on her door, before mentally slapping myself
and roaring off. I was the guy she paid to fuck her, nothing more. No woman in
their right mind would want to date a guy with my background. I slipped my
phone into my trouser pocket as the intercom buzzed and headed out to meet my
driver James. It was time to put my game face on.
    ‘Evening, Sir. How are you?’
    ‘Excellent thank you, James. You?’
    ‘I can’t complain,’ he smiled as he held the back door open
for me and I slid inside. He started the engine and pulled out before speaking
again. ‘Are we picking up Mr. Douglas on the way, or is he meeting us there?’
    ‘Meeting us there,’ I nodded. ‘I didn’t think it would do my
reputation any good, if I was caught booking into a hotel suite with another
man.’ I flashed him a smile in the rear view mirror and he chuckled.
    ‘No, I suppose it wouldn’t. Unless of course you were
thinking of branching out?’
    ‘No I wasn’t,’ I retorted quickly. I’d booked Trey Douglas
for tonight, another up and coming male escort, nearly as well hung as I was.
He had that blond haired, blue eyed, baby face look going on, that a lot of
women seemed drawn too. He was only twenty one and eager to learn, so I’d taken
him under my wing and had been advising him, giving him some tips and
techniques, without giving away all of my of secrets of course. He was my go to
guy for a ménage scenario. I’d made it clear from the beginning that I was in charge,
I called the shots and if he tried to poach one of my clients, I’d blacklist
him. He’d also received fair warning that he’d receive a black eye, or worse,
if I felt a hand, tongue or any other appendage anywhere on my anatomy. He’d
looked mortified, he was as into women as I was and it made our sessions a
whole lot more relaxed that we knew we were both there to focus on the woman
and not on each other.
    ‘I left your overnight bag in your suite and the morning
after gift box you prepared for Mrs. Renshaw with her toiletries and fresh
lingerie, as usual.’
    ‘Excellent, thank you, James.’
    ‘I notice that you’ve not booked The Dalton Hotel for a
while, Sir,’ James observed.
    ‘No,’ I replied, as my lips curled into a smile. James might
be an ex-marine, trained to be sneaky and covert, on top of deadly, but he was
never subtle when it came to trying to push me in a certain direction.
    ‘May I ask the reason?’
    ‘I think