Escorting the Actress (The Escort Collection 2)

I lay in my bed that night—Lo's posh guest bed—and thought about the day. It had been most unexpected. I'd never imagined Lowell Barton would get herself into this kind of trouble. I certainly never imagined I would be the one to help her out of it.

Especially not as her male escort.

Not in a million years.

But now that I was there, in her home, with our pictures splashed all over the Internet, I smiled.

It was the most awkward family reunion of all time.

But that was okay. This job could save both of us. I couldn't turn tricks anymore; it wasn't for me. I'd gotten into hooking for the reasons I'd told Lo—I needed the money. When I told her about meeting Elena and getting hired on the spot, that was also true. But I'd left out what had happened right before that. The thing that had made me desperate enough to become a prostitute.

My phone buzzed. I warily picked it up from the nightstand.

I understand you want to talk to me, it read. Tomorrow.

I turned my phone off and scrunched my eyes closed, wishing that tomorrow would never come.

Lowell

I locked the door to my room that night. I wasn't sure if I was locking Kyle out… or locking myself in.

I was being silly. He would never come in unless I invited him. And I knew that I would never invite him.

But he was here, in my house, just a few rooms away. Sleeping. Probably in his underwear. I clapped my hand over my eyes as if that could block out the picture in my head.

The picture in my head looked good. Too good. I could just imagine his abs, rippled and defined from all of his years surfing and lifting weights. So yummy…

I suddenly realized that I was ravenous. For all sorts of things.

And I was going to have to starve myself for the foreseeable future.

At least I'd make my director happy.

* * *

I checked my phone first thing in the morning, like always.

Nice work, read a text from Shirley. Keep it up.

Almost as good as Channing Tatum! Tori's text read. Call me when you can—I want details!

I could just picture her, heading out on her run first thing this morning, a bundle of nervous excitement and optimism. I needed to call her and let her know the truth about Kyle and who he was to me. Besides just being my escort.

I groaned inwardly and kept reading.

The producers have decided that you can come to the set today for a meeting, Lucas texted. But I'm not promising anything.

I sighed and put my phone back down. The good news was, I got to go back to work. The bad news was, it was because of a lie.

Coffee. I pushed everything else aside. Must. Get. Coffee.

I dragged myself out of bed and rummaged around in the kitchen. Kyle padded out a few minutes later in nothing but his boxer briefs, looking just the way I'd imagined. His pectoral muscles were large and carved over his six-pack… or was it a twelve-pack? I looked at it quizzically, pondering this important question, while I examined the chiseled lines of his abdomen and simultaneously tried to count the packs. My mouth pooled with saliva. I was literally a Pavlovian dog, salivating over the hot man in my kitchen.

"Hey, Lo," he said, the shit-eating grin back on his face.

"Hey." My voice was dazed.

Starving. I'm starving, and I can't have anything I want. Not a croissant, not a bagel with cream cheese, not a… Kyle.