Yours for the Night Read online

  The smile was slow to grow on Jewel’s lips, but when it came, it was sexy, sultry, secretive. “Getting paid for it is the hottest thing I’ve ever done, and so damn sexy. This is better than a one-night stand, and you don’t have to worry about how to get rid of him in the morning. Oh my God”—Jewel rolled her eyes—“if a one-nighter is looking for a relationship . . .” She punctuated with finger quotes. “If I decide I don’t like a guy, I tell my consultant not to put his calls through.”

  “You have a consultant?”

  “That’s what we call them, the person who answers the calls for me and sets up the dates.” She laughed, her voice musically sweet. “Maybe we should call them matchmakers.”

  Marianna couldn’t judge, especially when the thought of all that money set 13

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  her pulse racing. “I’m still in shock.”

  “I get paid for having sex with no complications.” Jewel touched Marianna’s knee, lowering her voice to a whisper. “What more could a girl ask for?

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  2

  A GIRL COULD ASK FOR A LOT MORE THAN SEX WITHOUT

  COMPLICATIONS. Marianna, however, was having no sex and a whole bunch of complications.

  And Jewel? She’d wanted her own business, to be her own boss, to have her career totally in her control, but with the Sarbanes-Oxley rules instituted after the Enron debacle a few years ago, the personal liability an accountant had to bear on audits made it harder for small single-person firms to stay in business. Marianna hadn’t realized it affected Jewel to the point that she had chosen to become a call girl on the side. Jeez, what was the economy coming to?

  “I never dreamed of happily ever after, Marianna. Sex is just biological. If I couldn’t get it on my own terms, I’d probably pay for it, too.”

  Marianna had started to believe happily ever after would never come her way either. “You don’t have to explain. I don’t think badly of you.”

  “It’s something I want you to consider. You could be out of your money problems like that”—Jewel snapped her fingers—“as long as you don’t feel guilty about it later.”

  “I don’t think it’s right for me.” But . . . she bit her lip. “Is four thousand in one night typical?”

  “I’ve gotten as little as five hundred, and once a man gave me ten thousand for the weekend at his villa in Sedona. He paid for the flight, of course. I never pay for anything.” She shrugged. “And sometimes I get jewelry.”

  Marianna eyed the ruby ring Jewel wore on her middle finger.

  “Yes, this was a present from a pleased client. I’d say I average fifteen hundred. That’s pretty standard when you’re talking dinner, a party, dancing, then back to a hotel room. But I never stay the night. I call a cab by three at the latest.” She leaned forward to poke the air. “They pay for that, too.”

  Marianna laughed, a touch of a scoff in it. “You’re really trying to talk me into this, aren’t you?”

  “I’m just saying you could end your money troubles. Even if you did it a few times, you could get yourself debt-free and start over. Without hitting up your dad.”

  That was the kicker. Marianna couldn’t see a way out of her current situation 15

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  without going to her mother or her sister now that her father had said no. She laughed again, shaking her head. “So I don’t borrow money, I prostitute myself instead. How is that better?” Honestly, she didn’t want to make Jewel feel bad about her choice, but she couldn’t see herself doing it.

  “It’s easy if you don’t feel immoral about it. And you’d be building your network for your real estate business.”

  “You’re kidding.” Marianna’s jaw dropped. “I’m going to tell these men my real name and hope they ask me to sell their house? How am I supposed to tell their wives how I met them?”

  “They aren’t going to reveal how they met you any more than you’ll tell on them. I mostly date men from out of town to avoid the problem of running into their wives. But even if I do date someone from the Bay Area, I always get a picture first to make sure it’s not a friend’s husband or something.” Jewel touched Marianna’s knee. “These men are movers and shakers, either here in San Francisco or another big city, even internationally. I’ve gotten a couple of new accounting clients out of it.”

  “That’s one thing I wouldn’t do,” Marianna said, flapping her hand, “tell them who I really am. What if one of them was a cop? They’d know exactly where to come and arrest you.”

  “First of all, clients come through referrals only, and second, I never ask for money; it’s a gift. It’s understood up front that if I choose not to sleep with them for whatever reason, then nothing happens.”

  Setting her empty champagne glass on the coffee table, Marianna wanted another, but she didn’t want Jewel to see how badly. “I’m worried. What if something happens to you?”

  “Someone knows where I am at all times. I check in, I always have my cell phone with me. I never go anywhere that isn’t prearranged unless I call in first to let my consultant know. Protection on all fronts is the name of the game.”

  “What about something you can get from the sex?”

  “Protection. Or I don’t do it.”

  Marianna picked at a loose thread on the seam of the leather sofa. Six months ago she’d replaced the ancient flower-print pull-out she’d inherited from her sister. Marianna was always living in hand-me-downs, and she’d finally broken down and bought the brown leather. It had been a floor model. Jewel sighed. “Maybe I shouldn’t have told you about this. I should have just 16

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  let you sell your shoes.”

  “I don’t know what to think. I’m all messed up.”

  “Is it going to affect our friendship?” Jewel touched her hand. Marianna’s head popped up. “Of course not. Just because I don’t want to do it, doesn’t mean I think you’re a horrible person because you do.”

  Jewel let out a pent-up sigh. “Good, because I wouldn’t have told you any of this if I thought you’d hate me.”

  “You’re such a freak.” Marianna snorted. “I’m not going to hate you.”

  Jewel hugged her hard for one second, then bounced off the couch, back to her usual pragmatic attitude. “All right, so let’s go pick out what you’re going to put on eBay.”

  Marianna didn’t suddenly start hating Jewel, but she did think about Jewel’s extracurricular activities long into the night. It couldn’t be right to take money from men for sex. But God, she kept seeing dollar signs hovering over her head as if they were angels. She needed money, needed it bad. She was in an untenable position. No matter which way she turned to get the money, she’d be wrong in her father’s eyes. No Whitney had ever declared bankruptcy. Selling her Jimmy Choos on eBay wasn’t going to make her solvent. But was following in Jewel’s footsteps any better?

  And then there were the other images that ran through Marianna’s mind. She tossed and turned, kicking the blankets aside. She hadn’t had sex in far too long. It made her forget she was a woman. Behind her lids, she imagined a handsome stranger picking her up in his limousine. Salt-and-pepper hair. She liked older men. Ger ard, her last lover, had been in his late forties, but they’d broken up over two years ago. She hadn’t found time for a relationship since. God, she missed sex.

  Yes, distinguished gray hair, trim, toned body, a nice smile, sexy voice. She gave herself over to the fantasy. He helps her into the limo, pours her champagne. Chitchat, light touches, first her hand, her fingers, her arm, then her knee. They’re alone, a tinted window between them and the driver. She’s chosen a black dress with a high slit, and he slides his hand up her thigh. She’s wet, her nipples hard.

  Marianna slipped her hand down between her legs. He doesn’t kiss her; she’s not sure she wants to kiss him anyway. That’s more personal. She shifts, spreading her legs for him. She isn’t we
aring panties, 17

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  and he strokes along her slit. It’s the most amazing feeling, looking into a stranger’s eyes as he fingers you. Hiking her skirt higher, she straddles him and rides his hand. Oh, so good.

  Marianna buried her finger inside, then slid out to use all that moisture on her clit. The fantasy had her so wet she didn’t need her vibrator. Steadying herself on his shoulder, digging her fingers into his suit jacket, she pumps against his hand as if it were his cock. Then she throws her head back and comes. As she climbs off and straightens her dress, he hands her an envelope. Four thousand dollars for the best orgasm of her life. Marianna cried out, climaxing to the images in her head. A handsome stranger. And all that money.

  THE NEXT MORNING SHE WAS ALMOST OUT THE DOOR WHEN HER cell phone chirped. Rather than worry about trying to get the Bluetooth in so she could drive, Marianna answered without looking, her hand on the doorknob.

  “Hi, darling.”

  Her mother. It could mean only one thing. Her father had talked. “Hi, Mom. I’m off to an appointment.” Not. She’d be behind her desk at the brokerage hoping her leads didn’t hang up before she got her name out. “I’ll call you back when I’m done.”

  “This’ll only take a minute, honey.”

  Marianna held back a groan. She loved her mom, she loved her dad, but being stuck between Asa and Louise Whitney was akin to Mel Gibson in Braveheart. Drawn and quartered. “Okay.”

  “You know, if you need money, you don’t have to go to your father. I’ve got some spare pocket change.”

  Her mom would give her the money and not expect to be paid back. But eventually her father would figure it out and accuse her of going behind his back. Then both she and her mom would be in trouble. There’d be emotional strings attached, too. “Thanks, Mom, but I’m fine. I’ve got it worked out. In fact, I’m on my way to a meeting that looks promising.”

  “All right, baby, but if you need it, we can keep it from your father, I promise.”

  Marianna didn’t want to keep it from her father. She wanted to be in a position where she never had to go to him again. “Really, Mom, everything’s 18

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  cool. But thanks.”

  “Your sister says she hasn’t heard from you in over a week.”

  That was one of the emotional strings. Calling her sister, making sure her sister felt included in her life, listening to her sister tell her how badly Marianna was screwing up. “I’ve been busy, Mom, but I’ll try to give her a call.”

  “She said she’s left you several messages.”

  Tattletale. Tina, older by two years, had been a tattletale even when they were kids. “I’ll call her today.”

  “Promise?”

  “Promise.” She hated it when her mother made her promise. “Gotta run, love you, bye.”

  It took her mother only long enough for Marianna to get to her car and put her Bluetooth in. The cell phone beeped in her ear and announced her sister’s name. Mom hadn’t wasted a second.

  Marianna tapped the answer button. No point in trying to hide. They’d find her eventually. “Hi, Tina. What’s up? Sorry I haven’t called you, but work has gone psycho.”

  “You’re such a liar. You’ve been asking Dad for money again, so work can’t be good at all.”

  That’s exactly where Tina learned to be a tattletale, from their mother. “It was a loan,” Marianna said tightly.

  “You always need a loan. You’ll give Dad a heart attack.”

  Stress would give him the heart attack. Marianna considered herself merely an embarrassment. With her perfect husband, perfect house, and two perfect teenagers, Tina always made her feel small. “I’ve got a good line on something, so I don’t need the loan anymore.”

  “In one day?” Tina snorted.

  “That’s how these things happen. Feast or famine,” Marianna quipped, then she just couldn’t keep her big mouth shut. “I’ve been going to some events up in the city with Jewel and my contacts list has grown exponentially.”

  “That’s great.” Tina didn’t sound convinced. “Anyone Dad knows? He could probably put a good word in for you.”

  “Nope, no one Dad knows,” she said quickly. She did not need her father asking who.

  “Well,” Tina paused, thinking, thinking, “let’s do lunch.”

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  Marianna couldn’t afford lunch with her sister, neither the cash it would cost for the expensive restaurant Tina chose nor the emotional drain listening to how she, Marianna, needed to get her act in gear. “I’m not sure when I’ll have time, but I’ll call you as soon as I can. Gotta run, love you, bye.”

  She disconnected and pulled into a random parking lot, shutting the engine off as she peered through the ginormously cracked windshield. One breath, two. She’d screwed herself now. She couldn’t go back and say her “leads” hadn’t panned out. Her family would know she’d made up the whole thing. And by God, she needed to stand on her own two feet to show them she wasn’t the loser they thought.

  She said Jewel’s name into the Bluetooth.

  She’d only do it a few times. Just long enough to get herself out of debt. Her family never had to know where the money came from. 20

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  3

  CHASE RAMIREZ STOOD BEFORE HIS SAN FRANCISCO HIGH-RISE office window overlooking the Bay Bridge. The afternoon sun was too bright on the water. The reflection burned his eyeballs and made his head pound.

  “All I’m saying is you to need to get social again.” Behind Chase, Harve drummed his fingers on the arm of his chair as he spoke. “I’m worried about you, bro.”

  Harve Duesterman wasn’t his brother, but they’d known each other for many years, starting as freshmen in college when they’d been on the rowing team and both majored in business. They’d roomed together and, after graduating, had climbed each rung of the corporate ladder in tandem. When Chase finally made CEO, the man he’d wanted for his CFO was Harve. He trusted him. The last year, though, had been hard. Chase had lost something intrinsic. Waking up in the morning seemed almost pointless. Work didn’t interest him. His concentration sucked.

  Sometimes it was hard just to breathe.

  “I’m not interested in dating.”

  “It’s not a date, it’s sex.” Harve sighed. They’d had this conversation too many times in the past three or four months. “You need a woman.”

  In the old days, before Chase married Rosie, he and Harve had done their quota of screwing around. They’d had some nasty times, shared a few women. In college, Harve’s nickname had been Deuce, both a play on his name and the fact that he’d preferred doubles, two men and a woman, two women and him, two men with two women. They’d both settled down, gone the marriage-andkids route, though Harve had gotten divorced about three years ago. As for Chase, with Rosie gone, the only thing that kept him going was Krista, his daughter. She was a sophomore in college, and he had to put on a good face for her, make her think he was doing fine. She’d lost her mother; he didn’t want her to be afraid she’d lose her father, too.

  But fuck, pretending anything mattered took its toll.

  “Sex isn’t always the answer, Harve.”

  “No. But neither is what you’re doing, dude, letting yourself waste away. I’m worried.”

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  It was a wonder the board hadn’t fired him, he’d been doing such a shitty job. Maybe he should quit. Yet as hard as it was to get up in the morning, if he didn’t have work to occupy him, he’d simply die. And he needed to stick around for Krista.

  “I’m fine,” he said, but even he heard the apathy as he turned back to his desk and sat in the leather chair.

  “One night,” Harve insisted, his eyes alight with hanky-panky as they’d been all the freaking time in college. Harve might have lost most of his hair and stand only five-eight, but he was in g
ood shape, and women gravitated to him as if they scented how much he loved sex, how much he liked making a woman come. “I’ll find you the perfect lady. It’ll break you out of this funk you’re in.”

  This wasn’t a funk. Rosie was dead. His fault. He should have done something. Krista had gone off to college, and he’d been working all the time, and one day Rosie was . . . gone. He hadn’t even known she’d had the sleeping pills.

  God, he was tired. “I’m not into threesomes or any of that crap anymore, Harve. I appreciate your concern, but I’m fine.”

  “It wasn’t your fault.”

  Chase swallowed hard. “I know.” He wasn’t a good liar. Some would say working hard, getting ahead, growing the income and taking care of the family was the most a man could do. Rosie had needed more. He hadn’t been there to give it to her.

  “So get out for once.” Harve stared him down.

  He didn’t want a woman. He didn’t want to date. He didn’t even care about sex. But Harve wouldn’t let up on the questions and the solutions, and maybe it was time to bite the bullet. Maybe he needed a mindless fuck. Besides, if he did it at least once, Harve would get off his back.

  “All right. I’ll go out with one of your ‘courtesans’ or whatever the hell you call them.” He’d paid for sex before, when he was single. The kinkiness of it had appealed to him then. Now it was simply the anonymity. She wouldn’t be expecting him to call her again.

  Harve rubbed his hands together lasciviously. “Awesome. When do you want me to set it up?”

  “Krista’s coming home this weekend, so it’ll have to be the following weekend.” His daughter was as worried about him as Harve was. But he’d never 22

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  do anything to himself. Never. When he wasn’t feeling guilty, he managed to hate Rosie for what she’d put Krista through. Which was better, anger or guilt?

  He wasn’t sure, but he’d never in a million years do that to Krista. He held up his hands. “But no tag-teaming like when we were in college, okay? Just a simple date.”