Boyfriend for Hire: A Stand-Alone Contemporary Romance (Escort Files Book 1) Read Online Free Page B

sleeveless shirt, an extra button on the lavender cotton left unbuttoned, and then he smiled that lazy, sexy smile just for her. The dimple did its work and she felt a liquid heat that was foreign and yet, delightfully welcome.
    A woman watched him as he passed her, then saw Amy and raised her wineglass in a salute with a grin. Oh god, she knows. The smile was a knowing one, but also one that said, Welcome to the club!
    Michael—or Blake or whatever he was today—was wearing almost a mirror of her clothing, but it was done to very different effect. White drawstring pants with enticing little ties that dangled in front and drew the eye right to parts of him that she really shouldn’t be looking at. A shirt of pale blue unbuttoned just so made his skin look tan and entirely lick-able. He looked delicious. Dark hair, dark eyes, and a body so well built it had to be a full-time job to maintain.
    “Hi again,” he said, placing his hands on the back of the other chair, clearly waiting for an invitation.
    Amy’s mouth felt very dry all the sudden and she squeaked a little when she said, “Hi. Please, take a seat.”
    She started to reach out a hand for him to shake, but then pulled it back when she realized people were watching, especially the smiling older woman with the wine. Amy needed to stop being so obvious about not knowing him. She gulped down a bit of the cold water in her glass and wished for a bottle of vodka. Just the bottle, olives not needed.
    Michael/Blake leaned forward a little and winked, “Don’t be nervous. We’re here for lunch, right?”
    The server appeared and asked if they were ready for menus. While she listed the specialties of the day, Amy tried hard to concentrate, but the simple presence of this man made her brain fuzzy. He smelled of something fresh, like the ocean only with a little something that spoke of maleness. His hands were strong and so perfectly imperfect, the strength in them evident when he rotated his glass on the table. Even the hair on his arms was sexy, black but not overwhelming.
    The truth was, she’d lost her appetite and wished she was an artist so she could draw him all day. Naked, of course. Did stick figures count?
    “Anything sound good to you?” he asked, breaking her reverie. The server’s lips turned up ever so slightly, and Amy realized she’d been staring. Was she drooling too? She checked, but her chin was dry. Thank goodness for small favors.
    “Uh, I’m not sure,” she answered, having absolutely zero memory of anything that server said aside from a few mentions of the word fish.
    He covered neatly for her and said, “We flew in this morning and we’re both still half-way on the plane. How about we just look at the menus?”
    Once she was gone—with drink orders because Amy needed a drink more than anything else in the world at the moment—he handed her a menu and said, “It’s just a late lunch. Or early dinner. Whatever it is, it’s just food.”
    Pulling in a deep breath, Amy pushed it out and held up the menu. He was right. She was acting like she was on some sort of deadline or had some quota in terms of sexual encounters. But in reality, she didn’t have to do anything at all. Not one thing.
    If she wanted to look at him while she ate cake all week, she could. If she wanted to simply watch all the other women drool over him, she could do that too.
    Whatever she wanted, she could do.
    Her appetite came back with a vengeance at that thought and she perused the offerings. It all looked good. She started to do the calculus she always did, figuring out what would have the least calories and not make her look like a glutton. Almost narrowing her choices down to two forms of salad, she looked up at all the other people relaxing with their meals.
    She could do what she wanted.
    “I’ll have the creole mahi,” she said, putting her menu down to prevent any temptation to change back to a salad.
    Michael—or Blake maybe—nodded, his eyebrows