Escorting the Groom (The Escort Collection Book 4) (9 page)

"Yes, Blake. Your wedding dress. I made an appointment with a bridal salon tomorrow. Also, we're having our announcement pictures taken in the Common." I'd had nothing to do with any of this, of course. I'd gotten a lengthy text from Shirley, who'd made all the arrangements and taken care of all the details. She'd only offered to help, but in her typical fashion, she'd gone above and beyond, hiring Boston's best photographer and making an appointment at an exclusive bridal studio on Newbury Street for first thing in the morning.

Blake grinned at me. "Well, I'm looking forward to it. Shopping with you, I mean."

"We'll be having wine at lunch," I assured her. "Shopping drives me to drink."

"Me too." She walked tentatively toward me then leaned up and gave me a quick kiss on the cheek.

"What's that for?" I put my hand over the spot where she'd kissed me, as if I could preserve it.
Jesus, Lucas. Get a fucking grip.

"For being sweet. And for letting me have a graceful exit after I tried to get you to sleep with me—
again
." Her smile didn't falter.

"My pleasure." I nodded toward her door. "Get some rest. Tomorrow's going to be a long day."

"Yes, sir." She winked at me, and before I could object to her word choice, she disappeared into her room.

With the scent of her hair still all around me, I went as swiftly as I could down the hall to the privacy of my own room so that I could relieve myself.

Again.

I
couldn't sleep
. Instead, I tossed and turned, finally giving up and staring at the ceiling.
Why am I trying so hard to get Lucas into bed? Is it just because he's handsome and sexy?

Nah. He was a prime specimen of male physical beauty and power, all muscle and smoldering good looks. But that usually wasn't enough to get me excited. It took a lot more than that.

Not that I was excited. I would never admit to it, anyway.

Is it because he said no?

Maybe. It was certainly a first for me, aside from Vince. Maybe Lucas's rejection stung me more than I cared to admit, and I wanted him to see what he was missing.

But I didn't think that was the real reason.

It’s because I like him.
I liked Lucas Ford—I liked his brain, I liked his take on the world, and I liked his unflappable confidence. I also liked his green eyes, dimple and big shoulders, but that wasn't the point. I didn't "like" guys. I had sex with them. For money. They were all Johns that way and that was how I preferred it.

So if I slept with him, he would no longer be Mr. Special and I wouldn't be crushed out on him. He would just be a John, like all the rest. And that was what I wanted, for too many reasons to scroll through in my tired head.

Christ.
Now I was analyzing myself.

I rolled back over, trying to fall asleep and desperately trying to turn my internal psychoanalyst off.

I did not like her diagnosis
at all.

* * *

L
UCAS

I woke up the next morning sporting wood, the kind that wouldn't go down on its own.
Unfreakingbelievable.
I hadn't masturbated this much since I was a high school sophomore. That was right before I smartened up and got a girlfriend—one that was just as horny as me and wasn't interested in talking too much.

Blake's hair spilled out all around her on the bed. I stroked it, my naked body covering hers. My erection rubbed against her wetness. She felt slick beneath me. If I didn't watch it, I was going to come before I even got inside her.

Or got to the best part of the fantasy. I needed to pace myself with Blake, even in my imagination.
For fuck's sake.
I was seriously losing it.

Don't think, don't think
, I coached myself, trying to get back to the fantasy. If I didn't get this over with now, I was going to be walking around Newbury Street all day with blue frickin' balls.

Blake arched her back and looked up at me with her wide blue eyes. "I need you," she gasped, sounding as if she would die if I didn't fuck her right now. So I did—I eased my cock into her tight, pink, perfect pussy. Her body clamped around me like a vise.

"Holy fuck, babe," I said as I started to thrust.

"Lucas!" she cried, writhing in pleasure underneath me, her tits bobbing as I fucked her hard. "Oh, fuck!"

"Come for me, baby." I wanted to feel her shatter around me and suck my cock dry already. And this was
my
fantasy, dammit.

"Oh, yes! YES! I fucking love you, Lucas! I love you!"

She fucking
loves
me? What the actual
fuck
was the matter with—

It didn't matter because I came, suddenly and in a torrent. A soft curse escaped my lips as I exploded, an imaginary Blake still writhing beneath me.

Then there was a knock at my door. "Lucas?"

"What?" I snapped, not thinking. My body still shook with the shock of my orgasm.

"I brought you coffee," a cheery voice called, and then Blake opened the door.

"Can I have some fucking
privacy
?" I roared, my dick still in my hands.

Blake took two steps in, saw me on the bed, opened her mouth—and then it seemed she couldn't manage to close it. "What? Uh, oh boy. Sorry." She looked around in a panic, clutching the mug of coffee she'd brought in. She looked as if she might burst into hysterical laughter or tears. I couldn't tell which.

"Just leave it on the dresser," I said disgustedly, my chest still heaving.

"Okay," she squeaked, setting it down and shooting out of the room faster than Michael Phelps leaving the blocks.

I wiped myself off with a tissue, staring at the ceiling. I was still breathing. My heart was still beating. I was officially living proof that I couldn't die of embarrassment.

As I calmed down, the CEO in me decided to take charge. I decided that I was going to think of today as a positive challenge.

Or, in an alternative, I was going to need to beat something.

But not my man-meat. That routine was getting retired right now.

* * *

F
resh from the shower
, where I'd attempted to drown my shame, I sauntered out to the kitchen, mug in hand. I'd decided to just play it cool. Blake was a grown woman; surely she would act like an adult and just let the incident drop.

She was sitting in the living room, reading the newspaper and drinking coffee, a picture of quiet, upscale domestic normalcy. "Hi," she called, not looking at me. "Everything come out all right?" Her shoulders shook in silent laughter.

"Ha ha," I said, but then I gave up and started to laugh, too. "It did, but barely. I'm uh… I'm not used to having company."

Blake nodded, her head still buried in the paper. "I'll remember that. Sorry. I just wanted to give you a coffee. I didn't mean to interrupt your… flow." She started laughing again.

I groaned. "I'm fine, thank you. And I told you—I don't get embarrassed." And yet, my cheeks were flaming.

Blake peered up at me over the paper, taking in my blush. "I know. I remember. That's why this isn't weird, right? It's not weird?"

"I think we've gotten beyond weird." I poured myself another cup of coffee and sat down on a barstool, still watching her. It was actually nice to have her there even though she was currently busting my balls. I never invited the women I slept with to sleep over, let alone hang out in my home.

I love you, Lucas!
The image from my earlier fantasy suddenly presented itself to mock me. I shivered, disgusted with myself, and hopped off the barstool. "I'm going to hit the gym before we go out for the day. Please help yourself to some breakfast."

Blake put the paper down and stood up. "Aren't you going to eat?"

"Not now. I'll have a protein shake later."

"Well, can I come with you to the gym?" She suddenly sounded shy, bouncing on the balls of her feet.

"I don't usually have a gym buddy." My tone made it clear that I wasn't keen on the idea.

"You don't have to babysit me. It just gets really boring, sitting around here with nothing to do. Except masturbate." She giggled until she saw the look on my face and abruptly stopped. "You can even pretend you don't know me."

"I might."
Yeah, right.
And let the other guys at The Stratum try to be Blake's gym buddy?
No fucking way.
"Except that's my engagement ring sitting on your finger."

Blake looked down at it and smiled, fingering it. "Right. Except for that." She looked back up at me. "I promise I won't bug you. I can take care of myself. And I won't
ever
make another masturbation joke—I swear."

"Fine." The word escaped before I had the chance to bite it back.

She was ready in five minutes. She wore a plain gray tank top and black running shorts. Her hair was pulled up in a messy ponytail, and she wore no makeup. Yet she still managed to look stunning. She was so pretty in her natural state, it almost hurt to look at her. "Ready?" she asked, all smiles.

I nodded and tried not to stare. She'd already caught me whacking off this morning and had probably guessed that it was her I'd been thinking of. Enough was enough.

Much to my surprise, Blake knew her way around the gym. It almost annoyed me that she never asked me for help or looked my way even once. She ran on the treadmill. She did a weight circuit. She smiled and chatted with every man who spoke to her, but I noticed that she flashed her ring to all of them and mentioned that she was getting ready for her wedding.

I felt wildly, stupidly proud.

"See?" she asked when we got back into the elevator. Her body was glistening with a fine sheen of sweat, which somehow managed to make her look even more attractive. "I didn't bug you once, did I?"

"No," I admitted. For some reason, that really bugged me.

T
he dresses were absolutely stunning
. Mina, the small, elegant woman who was handling our appointment at the Vera Wang Bridal Salon, beamed at me as she showed me the racks. "Wow," was all I could manage to say. We were the only customers in the exclusive shop, which was open by appointment only.

"I agree. They're all wow," she said. "Is there a particular style you're interested in?"

"Honey?" I asked Lucas, who was sitting by the window, tapping furiously into his smartphone.

"Yes, honey?" he asked, never looking up. I was starting to feel as if we were already an old married couple.

"Is there a certain style of dress you like?"

"Nothing poufy," he said, still typing. "I want to see that hot body of yours."

"Men," Mina said, conspiratorially.

"I heard that," Lucas called.

"She kind of has a point, honey," I called back. "But don't mind me; I'm just shopping for a wedding dress. A slutty one."

Lucas finally looked up from his phone. "I didn't say
slutty
, babe." He sounded nagged. "I just don't want your gorgeous figure hidden inside a poufy dress. Is that okay?"

I melted toward him a little, in spite of myself. "Of course,
babe.
" I wanted to wink at him, but I held back.

Mina and I assembled about ten dresses, and she arranged them in a fitting room for me in the back of the store. Lucas stood up, stretched, and started to follow me toward the back.

"What are you doing?" I asked, aghast.

He looked baffled. "Don't you want me to see the dresses?"

"No, I do
not
," I said. "It's bad luck for the groom to see the wedding dress before the ceremony. I got your instructions: no pouf. I'll deliver."

Lucas arched an eyebrow at me. "You're really worried about bad luck?"

I shrugged, trying to play it cool. "I just want everything to be perfect."

"Are you superstitious?" Lucas asked.

"I'm totally superstitious," I admitted.

He put his hand over his heart and grinned at me. "Well, I am humbled that you care enough about our wedding to be superstitious about it."

I grinned back. "Lucas Ford, you have never been humbled a day in your life. Except for maybe this morning." I started giggling. The wedding dresses were so shiny and amazing, I'd almost forgotten about this morning.
Lucas Ford had been whacking off.

I'd caught a glimpse of him, and I'd been seriously impressed. Which, as one might imagine, wasn't an easy feat for a working girl. I'd thought I'd seen 'em all.

But Lucas had been large. Thick. Hard. Oh, so hard. I'd watched him stroking himself, coming, and I’d been mesmerized.

"Blake." His voice interrupted me. "You promised me you'd drop it about this morning. So stop thinking about my dick and go find a wedding dress."

I felt a blush creep up my neck. "I wasn't
thinking about your dick
." I leaned forward and hiss-whispered at him while Mina fluttered somewhere behind me. "But yes, sir. I'll go find a wedding dress."

He crossed his arms against his massive chest. "I told you to stop calling me 'sir.'"

He sounded as though he was going to come after me, and even though I wouldn't have minded, I hustled to the back to try on the dresses. Mina didn't need to witness our dysfunction, or whatever it was that was growing between us. An unlikely camaraderie. An uneasy alliance. And a growing lust, at least on my part.

Why did I have to see his dick?
That was all I was going to be thinking about all day.

But then I went into the dressing room, and Mina handed me the first dress to try on. And like the good blonde that I was, all other thoughts vanished as I inspected the gorgeous dress. I fingered the fine, beaded material and wondered what it would be like to wear something so elegant and shiny on my wedding day.

But it was the third dress I tried on that made my heart stop: I knew it was the one when I saw it.

"That's it! That's the one," Mina said, clapping her hands together, before I'd even said a word.

I beamed at her. "I think so, too! How'd you know?"

She held the bodice of the dress tighter and turned me back toward the mirror. The long gown was covered in intricate lace that shimmered. I had to examine the dress closely to make out all of the ornate details. It was absolutely stunning.

There was a twinkle in Mina's eye. "Same way I know that man out there is the man of your dreams. And that you're the woman of his. Some things are just meant to be."

"Oh. Huh." I smoothed the dress and looked at my reflection in the mirror. "I bet you say that to all the girls," I said playfully, but my heart was suddenly racing.

"No, dear, I don't," she said. "I love it when people get divorced. Repeat business." She swooped my hair over one shoulder and adjusted the dress. "But I don't think you two will be back. Unless you do a vow renewal someday. And I have some
lovely
dresses for that."

* * *

"
H
oly guaca-guaca
." Nikki pulled out a long, strapless red gown embellished by a fabric rose. "Isn't this
something
?" She fingered the flower with her fake nails, practically skewering it.

"It's lovely." I swallowed hard. "Could you maybe put it down?"

"Aw, Blakey, stop your worrying." Nikki snapped her gum and tossed her blond curls. "They love us in here."

The fact was Nikki was right. Lucas had arranged for three escorts—Nikki, Helena, and Christie—to meet us at the salon to pick out bridesmaids' dresses. Mina hadn't stopped smiling. Same thing with Lucas, who was tipsy from too much wine at lunch and the attention of excited escort-bridesmaids.

Nikki was the one I'd spent the most time with. She was the closest thing I had to an actual friend. She was short and curvy, with long curly blond hair and pouty lips. Helena was tall and model-thin, with cheekbones that could cut glass. Christie was in the middle height-wise, with what she referred to as an "ample bosom" and wavy chestnut hair. The four of us were considered Elena's top escorts.

"Girls, pick out whatever you like," Lucas had said. They fussed and cooed over him, thanking him profusely and gushing about the store and the upcoming wedding.

Lucas had beamed at them. It'd been a retail rollercoaster ever since.

My coworkers were in the back, trying things on, but they kept catwalking their wares out front for Lucas to admire. Helena—who was six-feet tall with cascading raven hair and an ass you could rest a martini on without spilling it—came out in a skintight, black, strapless bridesmaid dress.

"Very nice," Lucas said, too enthusiastically for my taste. "
Very
nice."

A stab of something utterly foreign pierced me—jealousy. I glared at him as Helena grinned, tossed her hair over her shoulder, and sashayed back to the dressing room.

He finally noticed my glare. "What?" he asked, flushing.

"This is our
wedding
," I hissed. "Please stop drooling over the bridesmaids."

"I'm not drooling," he said, looking abashed. "I just like that dress."

"Just keep your tongue in your mouth," I snapped. "Drooling in Vera Wang is not acceptable."

"Sheesh," was all he said, but he didn't ogle the other girls.

Finally, dresses were chosen and the fittings were complete. I hugged each of my coworkers, thanking them for agreeing to be part of my big day.

"Are you frickin' kiddin' me?" Nikki asked, popping a fresh piece of gum into her mouth. "We're going to
Vegas.
For your
wedding.
To
him.
" She pointed appreciatively in Lucas's direction. "This is going to be the best weekend
ever
."

"Right?" Lucas asked, his eyes sparkling. I shot him a glare, and he coughed, looking down and inspecting the carpet. I made a mental note not to let him have wine at lunch again.

Everything was happening so fast. The girls all had airline tickets booked for Friday, so we could meet in Vegas for the rehearsal dinner that night, followed by the ceremony the next day. They were all abuzz with excitement. Even Mina was caught up in it, hugging me and each of my bridesmaids as if we were her new best friends. By the time we left, we'd spent over a hundred thousand dollars on dresses and rush tailoring fees.

I guess we
were
her new best friends.

Exhausted, I practically staggered out of the salon, but Lucas seemed triumphant. He threw his arm around me as we headed down the sidewalk. "I like your friends," he said.

I sniffed. "I noticed."

"Aw, Blakey, don't be sour. It's our
wedding
," he said, teasingly using Nikki's nickname for me. He seemed positively upbeat. "Besides, we have to go home and get dressed up for our engagement pictures. So you need to lighten up."

"Fine," I said. We started through the park, but I was so shopped-out, I was immune to the beauty of the flowering trees and the smiling children riding the swan boats.

"Wait a minute," Lucas said. "I need to talk to someone." He headed over to a tree that was shading an older man, who was surrounded by bags. "Herman," Lucas said, reaching down and shaking his hand. "It's a beautiful day."

"Always is, big guy," Herman said. "How're you doing?"

Lucas put his arm around me and pulled me against his side. "I couldn't be better. I'm getting married."

"No shit," Herman said. "To her?" He motioned toward me.

"This is Blake Maxwell. Blake, this is Herman Pace. He's an old friend."

"Who're you calling old?" Herman asked. He struggled to his feet and gave me a stately nod. "It's a pleasure, Ms. Maxwell. Congratulations." He looked back and forth between us. "I'm expecting the future holds good things for you two. Both of you with nice smiles like that."

"Thank you," I said, touched.

"We're going out of town for a while," Lucas said. "I'll have Ian come check on you. And here's this." Lucas handed him a card. "Take care."

"Thank you,” Herman said. "And congratulations!"

Lucas kept his arm around me and headed toward The Stratum. "Who was that? What did you give him?"

"Herman Pace is a retired air force captain, who now happens to live in the park," Lucas said. "I met him at a function my mother was hosting to raise money for homeless veterans. The man's brilliant."

"So you've… stayed in touch with him?" I asked, surprised by this side of Lucas. "You visit him?"

He shrugged. "I tried to convince him to come work for me, but he likes being retired. Then I tried to buy him a condo, but he prefers the nomadic lifestyle. So I give him gift cards to local restaurants to make sure he eats. In the winter, Ian and I check in and make sure that he goes to the shelter when it's freezing out. Even though he hates to."

I felt touched. "Why do you do that?"

"I like him." Lucas squeezed my hand. "So you see, even though it didn't say so in that
Globe
article, I'm not a completely heartless bastard with the appetite of a zombie. And I can't let my sister have
all
that money. She can afford plenty of oxygen facials with just half. The other half's going to charity, like my mother would have wanted."

"Why didn't she just say that in her will?"

"She wanted to trust us. To act like adults and make the right decision." He checked his watch. "We have to hurry. Are you ready for your close-up?"

I nodded. "I'm ready for anything." That might have been a lie, but the more I got to know Lucas, the more I wanted to believe it was true. For once.

* * *

L
UCAS

The photography session went well. There was an easy familiarity between me and Blake as we sat in the middle of the park. The photographer had us look into each other's eyes, hold hands, and had me drape my arm over her shoulders. The proofs he sent us afterward looked amazing. We looked like a real-life couple, gorgeous and smiling, all the happiness in the world in front of us.

Looking at the photographs, it was hard to believe it was a lie.

I had dinner delivered to the penthouse that night. We sat outside on the deck, overlooking the park below.