Chapter One

An Escort’s Rules of Etiquette

1. Your sole purpose is to make the client happy. Please her, tease her, flatter her. You are there for her pleasure, and her pleasure only. —from the Pleasures, Inc. Employee Handbook

“Don’t they call you ‘Babe Magnet’ Duvane?” his station manager asked as she propped herself against the edge of her cherry wood desk, brushing her silk-encased leg against his.

Photojournalist Nick Duvane grimaced and shifted in his chair. “Don’t go there, Foster.” He was beginning to regret taking this job. As a freelancer, he’d never have been put in this position.

Judy Foster folded her arms under her full breasts, pushing them up and over the low v-neck of her red sweater. She tossed her honey blonde hair and smiled. Nick knew firsthand she wasn’t above using her assets to get what she wanted.

“Now, Nick,” she purred, “don’t get prickly on me. I need you for this assignment. I can’t use an on-air personality. They’d be recognized in an instant. Who else is there?”

“Anyone but me. I don’t remember ‘going undercover’ being mentioned in my job description.” He racked his brain for a good replacement. “Why don’t you give the assignment to Cooper? He’d do anything to get out of the studio for a while.”

Judy snorted. “Cooper? The IT tech? He’d be laughed out of Pleasures’ offices. He has all the personality of a boiled egg and love handles the size of Las Vegas.” She let out a typically exaggerated sigh. “You’re reaching, Nick, but it isn’t going to work. You’re perfect for the job. Attractive, well-traveled, articulate, even if you like to hide under messy caps and old jeans. Face it. You’re the only one who can do this.”

Nick jumped up from his chair. “It’s not going to happen.” He shook his head. “I’m not playing a gigolo so you can boost the ratings.”

She waved his protest off. “How do you think WKPS got to be Kansas City’s top-rated news show? We’ve cornered investigative reporting by digging deep and bringing people the stories they need to know.”

“That’s a load of crap,” he said. The TV news business was as fickle as its viewers’ remotes. And lately Judy had been turning more and more to tabloid journalism to keep the station’s number one ranking. The tactic didn’t sit well with him. “This isn’t a story people need to know. This is strictly to titillate viewers. You only want to air it for the sensationalism.”

Judy’s mouth tightened. “What’s wrong with that? We’ll run it sweeps month in a two-part series. We’ll cream the other stations.”

Though he knew her greedy tendencies well enough to accept her words at face value, something in her tone made him stop. Her voice sounded almost bloodthirsty. “This is personal, isn’t it? What have you got against this escort company?”

“Personal? Come on, Nick. You know me. This is all about ratings.” But her protest sounded forced. And he noticed her hands clench, making him even more suspicious.

“Besides,” she went on, her gaze meeting his, “you owe me.”

Damn. His jaw tightened. She’d gone right for the jugular. He’d been waiting for her to bring that up. She couldn’t threaten his job if he refused this assignment because she knew he didn’t need it. But to bring his little sister into this…

“Leave Christina out of your sordid schemes.”

Judy stood, her brown eyes glittering. “She wouldn’t be involved, Nick, if you hadn’t been desperate enough to ask me for help.” She moved closer, close enough that he could smell the intense, spicy perfume she wore. It mixed with the faint tang of victory on her skin. “Good kid, Christina. Just gets herself into a little trouble now and then. I didn’t mind asking my friend to cover up that indiscretion of hers.” She tisked. “Now it’s payback time.”

Nick cursed and adjusted his baseball cap. He would have never gone to his manager if he could’ve found another way. But Christina had come to him in tears, her big brown eyes red and swollen, scared to death she’d lose her internship. Nick couldn’t let that happen. They only had each other, and he’d do anything to protect his sister.

Judy smirked when he looked up. She had him by the balls and she knew it.

“Okay. You win, Foster. I’ll play an oversexed gigolo so you can expose this escort service. But after that, it’s over. Fini. I’m out of here.” At first this job had seemed like a good compromise. If he couldn’t be out freelancing, at least he could still be doing what he loved most: photographing people. But he’d lived too long by his own rules to be ordered around by a woman who liked to squeeze his ’nads just to confirm she was on top.

“You got that?” he asked when he received no response.

Judy sent him a placating smile. “Sure. Whatever you say. Now about your attire...”

Nick kept his mouth clenched to stop a string of expletives.

He waited as her eyes roamed over his usual work clothes. Torn-up jeans, faded work shirt, old sneakers, and his favorite Kansas City Royals cap. Heavy lines etched the space between her brows.

“You need some serious polishing.” She turned to her desk and scribbled a number onto a notepad. “Call my image consultant at Diamond’s Department Store. She’ll get you clothed properly. Feel free to expense it all.”

“As if I’d do it any other way.” He’d expense it all right. He nearly grinned. He’d buy them out of Armani and donate the extra suits to the local homeless shelter.

Judy scowled. “Oh, and shave that stubble. It might work for Chris Hemsworth, but not for you, and it won’t fly with Pleasures’ high-end clientele.” She handed the number to him.

Nick grabbed the piece of paper and shoved it into the pocket of his jeans. He didn’t even feign a courteous departure. He whipped Judy’s door open and stalked from her stifling office. As he exited the station, a sign above the door bore the station’s logo, a large bald eagle. Below it, in gold, were the words WKPS, We Mean News.

News, my ass. He slammed the door behind him.

What was it the German reporter he’d met on assignment in Niger used to say? Lügen haben kurze Beine.

Lies walk on short legs.

Nick shook his head as he hopped into his red ‘68 Mustang and started the engine. His European friend was so wrong. Lies walked on very long legs. The long, deceitful legs of Judy Foster.

* * * * *

Diana Grady hated making mistakes. She took the utmost care to avoid committing them. But what she hated even more than her own errors was fixing someone else’s.

“Vivian,” she crooned into the phone, trying to soothe one of Pleasures’ top clients. “I promise it will never happen again. As of today, Armand is out. I’ll fire him myself this afternoon.” Right after she wrung his muscular neck.

Her best friend and co-owner of Pleasures, Inc., Josie Reynolds, opened the door and peeked into her office. Diana waved her in.

“No, Vivian,” Diana continued. “You have every right to be upset. Armand should never have abandoned you and left with the barmaid.”

Josie’s mouth dropped open. Diana hadn’t yet had a chance to tell her about Armand’s indiscretion.

Vivian went on, barely allowing Diana a word. “Don’t you screen your escorts? I trusted Pleasures. I’ve never been so embarrassed in my life.”

“I know it had to be uncomfortable, but please give us another chance to find you someone to replace Michael.” Diana paused, a scheme forming. “In fact, I have just the person in mind. You’re going to love him.” When Vivian’s regular escort, Michael Owens, had moved to New York to pursue a modeling career, he had left Diana with a huge gap to fill. And as far as Vivian was concerned, none of the others had measured up.

“Oh, Vivian, this escort is perfect for you. He’s new. Tall and handsome. Dimples the size of the Grand Canyon.” Vivian’s major weakness. “And he’s eloquent and won’t embarrass you in society. Truly, he’s a paragon of manliness.”

Josie rolled her eyes at her and took a swig out of the signature red mug that went with her everywhere.

Diana flushed. Okay, maybe paragon of manliness sounded like a phrase from a B-rated movie. But she was desperate. Vivian Saunders not only used their services on a regular basis, but she’d referred several of her wealthy socialite friends to Pleasures. If they all pulled out, the business would suffer a huge blow.

After several seconds of awkward silence, Vivian finally relented. She had a charity event in two weeks and she’d give them one more shot.

“I promise you won’t be disappointed.” Diana sent a silent thank you to the heavens. She dropped the phone onto its cradle and let out a long breath. Whew. Crisis averted. Now all she had to do was find this amazing escort.

“A paragon of manliness?” Josie held her side as she burst out laughing. Her long blonde ponytail bounced against her black sheath dress, and she nearly spilled her coffee onto the file she carried under her arm.

Diana sniffed. “Fine, fine. Laugh your little backside off. But it worked. Vivian wants us to set something up for two weeks from tomorrow.” She sighed and picked up her pencil. “We’ve already used everybody in our arsenal. Where am I going to find someone fresh?”

Josie tossed the file in front of Diana and grinned. “I may have the answer. You remember the guy the service called about? He’s waiting in the lobby.”

Diana opened the file and scanned it. Nicolas Richard Duvane.

She hoped he wasn’t another one like Armand. Their main staffing service had been sending them very unsuitable candidates lately, mostly men who thought their good looks were all that was required, who thought that escorting was easy cash and not at all about pleasing the clients.

She looked up. “Is he any better than the others?”

Josie smiled. “Well, I can’t say if he has dimples the size of the Grand Canyon.” She lifted one perfectly sculpted blonde brow. “I was too distracted by his hot bod.”

Now it was Diana’s turn to roll her eyes. “Josie, you’re hopeless.”

“Hey, I like sex. What’s so wrong? Sex is fun, Diana. You remember sex?” She shook her head. “Probably not.”

Diana winced. Josie had been her best friend since college, but that was way harsh. “Okay, okay. This isn’t about my sex life. This is about whether or not the guy is another hottie with no substance to back it up.”

Josie shrugged. “That’s your job. But he is sizzling. Melt-your-panties-with-one-look sexy. And since I was in the lobby when he came in, I can verify that he can string two sentences together. Very well, in fact.”

As they’d grown their upscale escort business, Josie had become their marketing and promotion guru and Diana had concentrated on dealing directly with the clients and escorts. Probably just as well since Josie seemed to fall for every line a handsome man threw her way. Diana was much too cynical for that.

But she’d interview this Nicolas. She had nothing to lose. “Fine. I’ll talk to him.”

Josie left, mouthing the word “sizzling.” Diana laughed and called their receptionist, asking her to send Nicolas in.

While she waited for the candidate, Diana glanced at his application and penciled in some notes. She was finishing up when her door opened.

“Ms. Grady?” a low, masculine voice said.

She glanced up from her desk—and promptly snapped the tip off her pencil.

Oh. My. God.

Well over six feet, wearing an olive green silk suit and a smile that could indeed melt panties, Nicolas Duvane stood in her doorway. His gray-green eyes skimmed her, their intensity making the small hairs on her neck rise.

She tugged at her brown knit turtleneck, feeling like it was suffocating her. Sizzling? Josie had underestimated. This man was on a scale somewhere between the gorgeous Hugo Boss model and Hugh Jackman.

Kansas City didn’t often grow them like this.

Diana tried to speak, but her mouth was suddenly parched. She swallowed. “Please, come in.”

Nicolas Duvane advanced into her office, his stride long and confident. His shoulders appeared impossibly broad in his well-tailored jacket. The room seemed to shrink. He owned it, claimed it, filled it up.

Diana’s satin bikinis melted between her legs.

Snap out of it! In the two years since they’d started Pleasures, she’d never once been attracted to any of their escorts. They were her employees. She’d always preferred high-powered men, even though they had brought her nothing but heartbreak. A brief flash of her ex-husband’s face ran through her mind.

She ignored the throbbing between her legs and stood. “Mr. Duvane. Nice to meet you.” She extended her hand.

He leaned toward her, his wavy honey-brown hair falling forward. “Glad to meet you, Ms. Grady.” Sexuality exuded from his voice and heat claimed her as his large, warm hand covered hers. The rough skin on his palm belied his polished exterior.

She gestured toward a black leather chair opposite her. “Please, sit.” Diana moved to the side of her desk and opened his file, trying desperately to calm the desire rising in her and concentrate on work. God, Josie was right. She needed sex.

“So, you’re interested in being an escort,” she began.

Nicolas nodded.

“Why?”

He sat up straighter, as if he’d thought he’d already had the position wrapped and had been expecting a simple rundown of his credentials. “Why?”

Ah, a little arrogance, Diana noted. “Yes. Why do you think you’d make a good escort?” It was always her first question, and one that separated the wannabes from men who would become regulars.

He sat back and ran his eyes over her turtleneck and tan pencil skirt. As they skimmed her legs, she felt his gaze as if his long fingers were stroking her. His face lit with something. Approval? Attraction? She wasn’t sure.

“I would make a good escort because,” he said smoothly, looking back up at her face, “I know how to please a woman.” The low timber of his voice told her he did know exactly that.

Diana cleared her throat and shifted her feet. “What specifically do you mean, Mr. Duvane?”

“Nick.”

“Pardon?”

“Call me Nick.”

But for some reason using his name seemed too intimate, too personal. “What do you mean about pleasing a woman? Pleasures isn’t a stud service.”

His brow rose as if he didn’t quite believe her and a warning went off in her head. Hmm, he was the other kind of candidate. Not into quick cash, but into sex.

“You misunderstand. Isn’t pleasing a woman about more than just sex, Ms. Grady?”

Very smooth. Her thoughts must have been obvious. “Indeed. Our clients are affluent, articulate, well-informed, and influential women. At Pleasures we take pride in our escorts anticipating our client’s every wish. What do you have to offer the Pleasures’ customer that the average Joe on the street would not?”

He leaned back and relaxed a bit at her new question. “I’ve traveled extensively for my work. Europe, Asia, Africa. I’m fluent in German, Italian, and French. I have a master’s degree from UC Berkeley—”

“That’s a fine list of credentials, Mr. Duvane,” Diana cut in. “And our clients do appreciate a well-educated man. But I read all that in your application. I want to know what makes you unique? What makes you stand out from the crowd of other highly educated men?”

Nick paused for a moment. “I’m interested in people. I like to know what makes them tick, what they think about, what inspires them. I would make your clients feel special and free to talk about whatever they wanted. And I’d listen, happily. Isn’t that secretly what all women want? A man to listen, share ideas with, make them feel like the most interesting, most beautiful woman in the room?”

Diana’s pulse sped up. When was the last time a man had made her feel special? Made her feel sexy and wanted and like he only had eyes for her?

Dear God, where was her objectivity? Nick Duvane was turning her into Josie. But as much as he talked the talk, she couldn’t shake this feeling that something was off. Why would a man like this be begging for a job at Pleasures? It was obvious from his well-cut suit that he wasn’t short on money. “What made you decide to apply for this escort position?”

He held her eyes for a moment and then leaned toward her. The air between them sprung to life like a spark in an electric cable. “I wanted to try something new and different in my life. I think it would be an interesting challenge.”

He was an interesting challenge.

“And,” he went on, “what better way for a man who’s been away from Kansas City for a while to meet new women. Pleasures has a strong reputation for setting up couples who, shall I say, like to enjoy the intimate side of life and have similar tastes.” An anxious look crossed his face.

He was fishing. He did think Pleasures was a stud service. Diana’s original discomfort now screamed in her head. “I’m sorry, Mr. Duvane, but we aren’t setting up S & M liaisons or hiring out men for sexual favors here.” She marched to her office door and opened it. “I appreciate you coming, but I’m afraid you aren’t right for Pleasures.”

A startled Nick Duvane started to protest, but when she gestured toward the door, he stopped.

He walked to the doorway. “Ms. Grady...”

“Thank you for coming,” she said firmly again. Don’t let the door hit you and all that.

“I’m sorry if I’ve offended you,” he whispered on his way out.

Offended her? Everything about him offended her. The fact that he’d waltzed into her office sure he had the position, the fact he’d used his considerable charm to try and soften her up, and the fact that she’d almost let him.

Most of all the way she couldn’t help but think that her dismissal of him had more to do with her own attraction to him than with any mistake on his part.

She fell into her chair and crossed her legs to stop the agonizing ache still pulsing there. As she closed her eyes, she pictured his look of surprise when she’d told him to leave. But she’d made the right decision. She couldn’t afford to have anything go wrong with Vivian again.

Then a small, strangled cry escaped her.

Damn it all. Someone must be playing a trick on her. Nick Duvane may be a sex addict, but as she remembered his grin, she saw it clearly. The man did have dimples the size of the Grand Canyon.