Escorting the Actress (The Escort Collection Book 2) Read Online Free Page B
Author: Leigh James
other rules she might throw at you. She sounded pretty Type-A, so I have a feeling there might be a few."
That a Type-A, gorgeous starlet had hired a male escort to help her out with the press seemed a little strange. "So I'm just going to drive to her house, meet her, move in with her, and pretend that I'm in love with her. In front of the paparazzi," I said, watching Elena warily.
"That's right—in front of the paparazzi and everyone else. And she said she doesn't want to sleep with you. So think of it as a vacation from your real job."
"What the hell? She doesn't want to sleep with her hot male escort? That's what I'm for . That's what I do. " I looked down at myself. "Seems like a waste." Secretly, I was pleased. A break from sex-for-hire would be a real vacation for me right now.
I could rest the salami.
"This is an emergency hire." Elena selected one of the ties and continued packing for me. "She couldn't find an actor to do it on such short notice. Besides, we have all the appropriate paperwork at the ready: a criminal background check, confidentiality agreement, clean bill of health, non-disclosure agreement, and I have insurance for you. She's in a tough spot, but she's a bright young woman. She knows what she's doing."
"If she's in so much trouble that she's hiring an escort to be her insta-boyfriend, it sounds like she might not know what she's doing."
Elena frowned at me. "You are advised to keep that, and any other hypotheses you might have, to yourself."
I sighed, feeling nervous, confused, and resigned. "So what am I going to do? Rattle around her house and do exactly what she says?"
Elena beamed at me. "Young man, that might be the smartest thing you've said to me yet." She zipped up my suitcase and stepped back to look at me. "You look good, Kyle. Healthy, muscular—a strapping, red-blooded American. The press will love you two together. I hope." She considered me for a moment. "And if she eventually decides she wants to sleep with you, count your blessings. You could do a lot worse."
"I don't doubt it," I said, thinking of Mrs. Plastic Housewife and her powerful thigh vise-grip. "I'm sure a change of pace will suit me just fine."
Lowell
W hile I was waiting for the escort to arrive, I paced around the house, cold sweat dripping down my back.
Just when I was absolutely sure my day couldn't get any worse, my mother called from the latest stop on her spiritual junket—somewhere deep in Japan.
"I'm in Kobe , Lowell. I told you I was coming here!" she said, her voice crackling through my cell phone. "It's the Paris of Japan—very fashionable! It's exotic, darling. Hot springs and street fairs. All of the men are very short, of course, so I haven't met anyone—"
"Mother!" I desperately reached for my Advil. "Don't be so racist!"
"I'm not being racist, darling, I'm being honest, which is one of the things I'm supposed to focus on during this trip. It's a spiritual journey, darling. I told you. I'm drinking the tea and doing the poses, and I'm going to come back totally clear!"
She rattled on for what seemed like forever about the weather and the food and her yoga practice while I paced and counted backward from one thousand so that I wouldn't snap.
"So how are you, darling? How's it going?" she finally asked.
I took a deep breath. I'd been hoping we'd lose our connection so that I wouldn't have to tell her, but apparently this wasn't my lucky day. Again.
"Mom, there's something I need to tell you. I… sort of got into trouble last night. I got drunk and there was… there were… some pictures… and now I'm in trouble with my agent. And my director." I couldn't bear to tell her it was a video and that I might be fired.
"What?" she shrieked. "You got drunk ? What on earth?"
"Lucas told me I needed to go on a diet. I freaked. And then I drank too much," I admitted.
"That's it," my mother snapped, going into full-on fixing mode. "I am sending my trainer over to you, and my chef. You are
That a Type-A, gorgeous starlet had hired a male escort to help her out with the press seemed a little strange. "So I'm just going to drive to her house, meet her, move in with her, and pretend that I'm in love with her. In front of the paparazzi," I said, watching Elena warily.
"That's right—in front of the paparazzi and everyone else. And she said she doesn't want to sleep with you. So think of it as a vacation from your real job."
"What the hell? She doesn't want to sleep with her hot male escort? That's what I'm for . That's what I do. " I looked down at myself. "Seems like a waste." Secretly, I was pleased. A break from sex-for-hire would be a real vacation for me right now.
I could rest the salami.
"This is an emergency hire." Elena selected one of the ties and continued packing for me. "She couldn't find an actor to do it on such short notice. Besides, we have all the appropriate paperwork at the ready: a criminal background check, confidentiality agreement, clean bill of health, non-disclosure agreement, and I have insurance for you. She's in a tough spot, but she's a bright young woman. She knows what she's doing."
"If she's in so much trouble that she's hiring an escort to be her insta-boyfriend, it sounds like she might not know what she's doing."
Elena frowned at me. "You are advised to keep that, and any other hypotheses you might have, to yourself."
I sighed, feeling nervous, confused, and resigned. "So what am I going to do? Rattle around her house and do exactly what she says?"
Elena beamed at me. "Young man, that might be the smartest thing you've said to me yet." She zipped up my suitcase and stepped back to look at me. "You look good, Kyle. Healthy, muscular—a strapping, red-blooded American. The press will love you two together. I hope." She considered me for a moment. "And if she eventually decides she wants to sleep with you, count your blessings. You could do a lot worse."
"I don't doubt it," I said, thinking of Mrs. Plastic Housewife and her powerful thigh vise-grip. "I'm sure a change of pace will suit me just fine."
Lowell
W hile I was waiting for the escort to arrive, I paced around the house, cold sweat dripping down my back.
Just when I was absolutely sure my day couldn't get any worse, my mother called from the latest stop on her spiritual junket—somewhere deep in Japan.
"I'm in Kobe , Lowell. I told you I was coming here!" she said, her voice crackling through my cell phone. "It's the Paris of Japan—very fashionable! It's exotic, darling. Hot springs and street fairs. All of the men are very short, of course, so I haven't met anyone—"
"Mother!" I desperately reached for my Advil. "Don't be so racist!"
"I'm not being racist, darling, I'm being honest, which is one of the things I'm supposed to focus on during this trip. It's a spiritual journey, darling. I told you. I'm drinking the tea and doing the poses, and I'm going to come back totally clear!"
She rattled on for what seemed like forever about the weather and the food and her yoga practice while I paced and counted backward from one thousand so that I wouldn't snap.
"So how are you, darling? How's it going?" she finally asked.
I took a deep breath. I'd been hoping we'd lose our connection so that I wouldn't have to tell her, but apparently this wasn't my lucky day. Again.
"Mom, there's something I need to tell you. I… sort of got into trouble last night. I got drunk and there was… there were… some pictures… and now I'm in trouble with my agent. And my director." I couldn't bear to tell her it was a video and that I might be fired.
"What?" she shrieked. "You got drunk ? What on earth?"
"Lucas told me I needed to go on a diet. I freaked. And then I drank too much," I admitted.
"That's it," my mother snapped, going into full-on fixing mode. "I am sending my trainer over to you, and my chef. You are
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