Escorting the Actress (The Escort Collection 2)

"Good morning, Kyle. You were a big hit last night!" one of the photographers called. "Quick question—what do you do for work?"

Kyle nodded at him. "I'm in SEO consulting. In New York."

"Where'd you two meet?" called another one.

Before I could even try to answer, Kyle was flashing his blinding-white teeth at them. "I gave her a surfing lesson. I surf in my spare time."

"Cool!" one of the other guys called.

"It was totally cool. She was wearing a bikini," Kyle said, his teeth glinting mesmerizingly in the early-morning sun.

"Smile, Lowell!" one of the photographers called. "No reason to scowl when you have a man who loves you like that! No matter who you threw up on earlier this week!"

I smiled at the photographer even though I would have been thrilled to just dump my coffee over his head. We posed for more pictures then got into the safety of my car before I let the scowl settle onto my face.

"Asshole," I said.

"Well, he complimented me," Kyle said. "Which by extension—as I'm your better half—is a compliment to you too."

I gave him a grim look. "No more talking. Coffee. Just coffee."

"But we have so much to catch up on," Kyle said, showing no intention of being silent. "How's Caroline, by the way? What's she up to these days?"

I sighed, turned onto the freeway, and settled into the traffic. "You don't want to know how she is, Kyle. Remember? You hate my mother."

"I don't hate her now. When she waltzed into my life when I was a teenager, throwing my dead mother's furniture out of the house and trying to ground me all the time, then I hated her. Now that she's nowhere near me, I can confidently say I only mildly despise her."

My mother actively loathed Kyle. When she'd replaced the draperies in Kyle's dad's house, he sneered at her.

"My mother had those custom-made in Paris," he'd said. "But I guess being from Texas, you couldn't appreciate that."

My mother had burned the curtains in a bonfire out back that night. Then she made Pierce buy her a newer, bigger house. With custom-made drapes. From Italy.

He said, "So. What's the evil old gold-digger been up to?"

I sighed in disgust, although he sort of had a point. "She got married again. And divorced again." Talking about my mother made me feel exhausted. Because she was exhausting. "Now she's traveling across Asia. She called me from someplace in Japan yesterday. She's on a spiritual journey. Or something. They aren't supposed to have any screens. They're just drinking kombucha and chanting their way across the continent."

"Hopefully she's busy finding inner peace over there. I don't think she'd like to see you online, puking one night and lip-locked with me the next."

"I told her I'd gotten into some trouble. She threatened to send over her personal trainer." I gripped the steering wheel, my knuckles turning white. I hoped my mother would honor the no-screens rule. She would have a flipping heart attack if she knew about Kyle or saw the video. "But thanks—way to point out the upside."

"She must be thrilled that you're so successful."

"She's so thrilled, she's downright scary. It was her idea, you know. After she and your dad got divorced, she thought she might try acting—but she tried out for a couple of roles and didn't get anything. So she enrolled me in acting classes." And got my hair colored and straightened, got me a posture coach, took me to the dermatologist, and consulted with a plastic surgeon to see if I should have my nose done. And had my teeth bleached. "She was pretty happy when my teacher said I was gifted."

"Why am I not surprised?"

I shrugged. "It turns out that I love it. I've finally found my 'thing.' Then I started auditioning and getting parts pretty quickly. I do have to thank my mother for that." Even though she's been living through me vicariously and draining my bank account like a rabid vampire ever since. "But my ultimate goal is to start my own production company someday. I'd like to produce movies that are more female-oriented. With roles you don't have to take your shirt off or starve yourself for."

"You should totally still take your shirt off in your movies," Kyle said, grinning. I glowered at him, and his face turned serious. "When it's artistically appropriate, I mean."

"How's your dad?" I asked, desperate to change the subject from both my mother and from me being topless.

"He's fine. He's working on some super-secret app up in Cambridge. He says he's never getting married again."

"My mom said the same thing."

"Is she still supporting herself with her divorce settlement from my dad?" Kyle asked, and I heard the bitterness in his voice. "Or has she moved on to the next one?"