Escorting the Billionaire (The Escort Collection 1)

I held up my hands, as if to surrender. “Don’t worry about it,” I said, “’cause it’s not happening.”

She and Evie looked at each other for a beat and then refocused on me. I grabbed yet another sandwich and looked around desperately for a waiter so I could order some wine.

“What exactly is going on with you and my son?” Mrs. Preston asked.

I sighed. “Mrs. Preston, we just talked about this yesterday. We’re dating and having fun. That’s it,” I said. “It’s not serious. You and I both know he’s out of my league.”

I looked at Evie. “You know it, too.”

She shrugged and nodded in agreement. “You’re right. He’s totally too good for you.”

“Thanks,” I said flatly.

“But Audrey—even though you said it isn’t serious, James told Todd that you went to the Red Sox yesterday. And that you had a great time,” Evie said.

“So?”

“And he told him you went on the swan boats,” she said accusatorially. It was as if she was presenting a particularly damning piece of evidence against me. Mrs. Preston leaned forward, waiting to hear my response.

I rolled my eyes at both of them. “That was my idea,” I said, even though it totally wasn’t. “Ladies, James is a great guy, and I like him a lot, but I can’t imagine he’d ever be serious about me.”

“Are you serious about him?” Mrs. Preston asked, not skipping a beat.

“Only as serious as you can be about something with an expiration date,” I said. I grabbed another finger sandwich and cursed the existence of finger sandwiches—why couldn’t they just make full-size ones? Then I wouldn’t have to keep grabbing them and feeling like a cow stuck in a herd of flamingoes.

I looked up to find Mrs. Preston studying my face.

Evie nudged me. “You two seem like you’re having a good time, though, which makes my life a lot easier.” She sounded as if she was apologizing to me. “If James was being an asshole like usual, these two weeks would be a total cluster fuck.”

“I agree,” Mrs. Preston said. A waiter approached, and she ordered a vodka gimlet.

I raised my hand. “May I please have a glass of wine?” I asked.

“Bring the bottle,” Mrs. Preston commanded, and I settled in for what I knew was going to be a very long afternoon.

* * *

James came through the door at exactly four o’clock, resplendent in another steel-colored suit. I practically sprinted to him.

“I’m pretty sure your mother was trying to get me drunk so she could interrogate me,” I told him once we were safely in the car.

“Are you drunk?” James asked. He almost sounded hopeful.

“No,” I scoffed. “Your mother had four gimlets and I had a bottle of wine. It was junior-varsity time.”

James shoulders shook in silent laughter next to me. “I can’t believe you can out day-drink my mother. You really are the perfect woman.”

His words sent shivers through my body, which I ignored. “She didn’t get anything out of me. I told her that we were happily dating, but that you and your gazillions of dollars were totally out of my league.”

James snorted at me and grabbed my hand. “The opposite is true—you’re out of my league,” he said. “Gorgeous, kind, and young like you are.”

“Ha,” I said, but I felt myself blushing from the compliment. “You’re all of those things, too.”

“Except for the kind and young parts, yeah—I guess I am,” he said, still laughing.

I shook my head at him. He was in a playful mood, which was a first. Maybe he should take more days off and eat ballpark hot dogs more often. If I had all of his money, I certainly would.

“Your mother even asked me if I was pregnant, or trying to get pregnant,” I said, snorting. “I wanted to explain to her that I was a working girl, not some sort of gold-digger.”