Читать книгу A Man For The Night - Miranda Lee - Страница 9

CALLUM GAVE A LOW WHISTLE as he pulled his red car up outside the Castlecrag address his brother had given him. Ms. Josie Williams must have well-to-do parents to live here, he decided as he switched off the engine and glanced down the sloping front lawn to the large split-level home with its view of Middle Harbour.

Surely she couldn’t own this home herself. Not at the age of twenty-seven or twenty-eight.

Callum had deduced Ms. Williams’s age from the fact that tonight’s event was her ten-year class reunion. It was a case of basic math, given most graduates of Australian high schools were seventeen or eighteen. He knew no other details about her except she wanted a fake boyfriend on her arm to take with her to said reunion.

Callum tapped his fingers on the steering wheel and speculated once again over the reasons why a girl would want to hire a fake boyfriend.

The one and only logical reason hardly made him look forward to this evening. She was obviously desperate and dateless, a poor little rich bitch with more money than looks or personality. In other words, a plain Jane and a bore, who had difficulty getting a date, let alone a boyfriend, but who was determined not to go to her class reunion all alone.

Which was where he came in.

When he’d expressed concern to Clay earlier this afternoon over being able to pull this charade off, his brother’s advice was that he should simply treat the girl like a normal date.

“You do date occasionally, don’t you, bro?” Clay had almost taunted.

Callum had growled that of course he did.

“I was beginning to wonder. There you go, then. Just do what you do on one of your regular dates.”

Nice idea in theory, but Callum suspected Ms. Josie Williams would be nothing like any girl he’d ever dated. Callum only asked out confident career women who knew what they wanted, then went out and got it for themselves. Girls with balls, for want of a better word. Invariably beautiful, brainy and bold, they liked male company—and sex—but had no desire to marry at this stage in their lives. If ever.

Callum had had relationships with a series of such women over the past few years, and he’d remained friends with almost all of them after he’d moved on. Only once had he chosen poorly, a New York divorcée who had seemed an assertive independent spirit on the surface, but who was secretly a shattered and needy soul, ripe and ready to create havoc in Callum’s life when the relationship ended.

Having a firsthand experience with that kind of Fatal Attraction scenario had made Callum a once-bitten, twice shy kind of guy, partly because he never wanted to be subjected to that kind of personal harassment again. But mostly because he didn’t want to be responsible for hurting another woman like he’d obviously hurt Meg. He always made it his business these days to find out lots about a female before he asked her out, as well as keeping his eyes wide open during their first date. If there was any hint of emotional vulnerability or instability, then it was a peck on the cheek at the end of the night, and a swift adieu.

Callum suspected Ms. Josie Williams would disqualify herself from being a regular date of his on every level.

No, thinking of her as a regular date wasn’t going to work. He’d have to do what he really wasn’t all that good at.

Act.

Oh, well. He could only do his best. With a resigned sigh, Callum climbed out of his car, locked it and headed along the path which led past the garage and down some stone steps onto an L-shaped colonnaded porch.

The front door was in a recessed alcove, not visible from the street, with an elegant lamp light overhead, stained glass windows on either side and a doorbell in its middle. Callum pressed the button and waited. No one came, despite the rather loud chime echoing through the house.

Callum was about to press the bell again when the door was whisked open and he was confronted by a very different Josie Williams than the one he’d pictured. At least, he assumed the ravishing creature standing before him was Josie Williams, given she was around the right age and dressed to kill in a smashing red evening gown.

Wow! he thought, as his surprised eyes took in every inch of his date from the top of her shiny dark head to the tip of her open-toed high heels. This was one great-looking girl. She had it all. Long glossy black hair. Gorgeous olive skin. Sexy cat’s eyes. Cute little turned-up nose. And a mouth to drive a man wild!

And that was just her face and hair.

Her figure was equally sensational, and exactly the way Callum liked a woman’s body. Tall and slender, with narrow hips and breasts that were full without being top-heavy. His gaze returned to linger on those very nice and obviously braless breasts, which were cupped sexily by the cut of the dress, the halterneck style lifting them up and together into a very eye-catching cleavage.

Callum was certainly having trouble taking his eyes off her cleavage. Why such a hot-looking babe didn’t have a real boyfriend to take her wherever she might want to go on a Saturday night was more than a mystery. It was a crime!

Whatever the reason, Callum’s feelings toward the evening took a definite turn for the better. Of course, his date could be a total no-no in the brains department, but spending a few hours with her sure wouldn’t be hard on his eyes. Or his ego.

“Ms. Williams, I presume,” he said with a smile.

She smiled back—if a little nervously.

“Yes. That’s right. And you must be Beau Grainger? Come in for a minute.”

Callum nodded and followed her inside, privately thinking it was going to be difficult answering to such a stupid name all evening.

“You’re different from what I pictured,” she said, a slight frown gathering on her high forehead as she looked him up and down.

He could have said the same about her.

“In what way?” he asked, wondering all of a sudden if she was disappointed. Maybe the agency had described Clay to her and she’d been expecting a real pretty boy. Or maybe she’d just formed a mental picture in her head from talking to his sweet-talking brother the other night on the phone. It was as well that their voices were similar or she’d be saying he sounded different as well.

“You look older,” she told him.

“I’ve always looked old for my age,” he said by way of an excuse. Naturally, he did look older than Clay’s twenty-four. He was thirty, going on thirty-one.

“Does my looking older present a problem for you?” he added, the thought crossing Callum’s mind that maybe she’d wanted a younger boyfriend on her arm. Who knew what her secret agenda might be? She certainly hadn’t hired an escort because she couldn’t get a date herself the normal way.

“Oh, no, no, not at all,” she denied, but Callum thought he detected something in her expressive brown eyes. Guilt, perhaps? No, not guilt. Embarrassment. She was embarrassed by this situation.

Odd, since she was the one who’d orchestrated it.

“Better you do look older, I suppose,” she went on a bit brusquely. “I mean, given that I’m twenty-eight and you’re supposed to be my boyfriend.”

Callum frowned over the puzzle of this stunning twenty-eight-year-old. “Would you mind my asking why a girl like yourself doesn’t have a boyfriend for real?”

She laughed a small, dry laugh. “In actual fact, I did have a boyfriend. Till last weekend.”

“What happened?”

Her eyes flashed with remembered anger. “I found out he didn’t want what I wanted, and we came to an abrupt parting of the ways.”

“Aah…” Callum didn’t need to ask any more questions. Relationships were not easy, and many ended badly and prematurely, especially for the girls who wanted wedding bells and baby bootees. And, let’s face it, a lot of them did.

Most guys weren’t in any rush to get to the altar. Nowadays, the singles scene was a sexual smorgasbord and men tended to put off marriage till they themselves wanted to settle down and have a family. Most girls, however, were different.

At twenty-eight, Josie Williams was already at that age where she’d be seriously looking for a husband, whereas it was highly likely that all her boyfriend had had in mind was more fun and games.

“You didn’t have any other male friend you could ask to take you to your reunion?” Callum continued, wanting to put all the pieces of her puzzle together here.

“No,” she confessed. “No one appropriate. Certainly no one as impressive as you.”

When she looked him up and down again with admiring eyes, Callum wasn’t sure if he felt flattered or flustered. He’d never considered himself all that good-looking. He certainly wasn’t in Clay’s league.

Admittedly, his tall, broad-shouldered frame looked pretty good in the superbly tailored tux he’d bought when he was working in Milan last year. And as Clay had said, he did have a great tan at the moment.

Maybe his date had a yen for bronze and brawn.

Hell, he seriously hoped not. He was here to do a job, not be seduced by some female on the rebound, no matter how gorgeous she was. Damn, but he wished she’d stop looking at him like he was a cool beer and she’d just emerged from the Sahara Desert after a six-month trek.

As though reading his mind, she stopped the staring, but not before a quivery little shudder ran down her spine.

Who knew what she’d been thinking. It was probably best he didn’t know. Nothing turned Callum on more than his date being turned on.

“I suppose I should fill you in on the total picture,” she went on with a blessed return to the business at hand. “It’ll make your job easier if you know a bit of background stuff.”

True, he thought.

“The last time I went to a class reunion was five years ago. Unfortunately, it was just after I filed for divorce and I was a total wreck.”

Callum’s eyebrows lifted slightly. Divorced too, eh? She certainly didn’t have much luck with men.

“I should never have gone,” she muttered. “Certainly not alone. All I did was burst into tears all night. And I looked such a fright. I’d lost a lot of weight at the time. It was one of the worst nights of my life and the memory has haunted me ever since.”

Callum could well imagine. No one liked to look a fool, or a failure, in front of old school friends.

“I haven’t been to a reunion since, but when the invitation came for this year’s special ten-year reunion, I decided to go, just to show everyone that I’d really turned my life around. Unfortunately, I told the gossipy head of the organizing committee last week that I was bringing my new boyfriend. Fortunately, I didn’t tell them his name, but I stupidly bragged a bit about how good-looking and successful he was.”

“I see,” Callum murmured.

“Not entirely. There’s more. There’s this one girl, you see, who always hated me at school and got infinite pleasure out of witnessing the exhibition of myself I made at the last reunion. I guess she’s the one I want to show most of all. She’s hosting the party tonight at her multi-million dollar harborside mansion. She’s married to Ted Billingsworth. You know…the communications tycoon.”

“Yeah, I’ve heard of him.” From what he’d heard, Callum didn’t like the sound of Ted Billingsworth. A womanizer from way back. Callum didn’t think he’d be any kind of prize as a husband, unless all you wanted out of marriage was money.

“Actually, when Angus became my latest personal disaster, I almost wimped out and stayed away. But then I heard about Gentleman Partners and their lineup of handsome hunks for hire and I thought, what the hell? Go for it! So I did. And here you are,” she finished up, her chin lifting in an attitude of spirited rebellion. “My own handsome hunk for the night.”

What a girl, Callum thought. She had the kind of pick-yourself-up-off-the-floor courage he admired. If she hadn’t also been highly emotional, sensitive, divorced and recently dumped, he might have asked her out for real.

“A hunk, anyway,” he agreed with a modest smile. “I’m not sure about the handsome part.”

“Are you kidding me? You’re drop-dead gorgeous!” she exclaimed before looking shocked at herself. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to gush. This is just so new to me. I mean, hiring a man for the night. But trust me, Beau, you are one very handsome man.”

“Well, I’m happy you think so,” he said. Yet he wasn’t happy. Here he was, with a gorgeous girl who liked him and he couldn’t lay a finger on her. Which was more than just a pity. It was downright frustrating.

It had been ages since Callum had had sex. Hawaii had been a total wipe-out where the ladies were concerned, the females who’d come on to him either being married, or desperately wanting to be. He’d been substituting surfing for sex for the last three months, and the result was one very nicely tanned but rather testy guy.

“When a colleague recommended you, I have to confess I was initially reluctant,” Josie prattled on. “But Kay insisted.”

Callum feared that his cover was about to be blown. “I’ve been hired by a colleague of yours in the past?”

“Actually, not Kay herself. It was her cousin. Cora.”

“Cora,” Callum repeated before realizing he was sounding like he’d been hired by so many women that they all blurred into one.

“You must remember Cora. She’s a rally-car driver, which is a pretty unique occupation for a woman. You took her to an industry awards dinner not long back. She certainly remembers you. She simply raved to Kay over your looks and your performance.”

“Really? And what performance, exactly, would that have been?”

Callum was astonished when she actually blushed. So! Madam wasn’t that bold, not if his unintended double-entendre embarrassed her.

“You…er…pretended to be her boy-toy lover for the evening,” she explained, her cheeks glowing. “To make her ex-husband jealous. You must remember. I was told it wasn’t long ago.”

“Oh yes…of course. Cora,” he murmured, digesting this highly interesting piece of information. It seemed he was getting Clay out of the escort business just in time. That boy had no common sense at all. Boy-toy indeed! What next?

“I thought if you had no trouble pretending to be a forty-year-old woman’s lover, then you’d have no trouble pretending to be mine.”

“You’re quite right,” he agreed. “Pretending to be your boyfriend will be a piece of cake.”

At this compliment, she blushed some more.

Ms. Josie Williams was an enigma all right, an intriguing mixture of daring and innocence.

“You ready to go then?” he asked. “My car’s parked right outside.”

“You know, I was thinking…I could easily call for a taxi. You might like to have a few drinks tonight. The beer and wine are sure to be laid on.”

“No, ma’am, I never drink on the job.” Now he sounded like a cop. A very pompous cop.

She smiled a stiff little smile. “I think you’d better call me Josie, don’t you?”

“Yep. I think you could be right there. And you can call me Callum.”

“Callum! But I thought your name was Beau?”

Callum knew he couldn’t stand that name all night. He’d wince every time she said it. With Clay out of that agency tomorrow what did it matter what name he used tonight, as long as he kept up the pretense of being from Gentlemen Partners. He had to do that, otherwise there might be trouble, and that was what he was always trying to avoid. Trouble.

“Beau Grainger was a name I chose for my escort work,” he explained. “Like a stage name. Frankly, I can’t get used to it so I’ve decided to revert back to my real name. Which is Callum. Callum McCloud.”

“Callum McCloud,” she repeated, savoring his name as one might savor a sip of wine. Very thoughtfully. “Yes,” she said, nodding. “That fits you better than Beau Grainger. Much better. I’ll just get my purse and shawl and we’ll get going.” She turned away to walk toward a nearby hall stand, her body in motion threatening Callum’s intention to keep strictly to his Gentleman Partner role tonight.

Frankly, he’d never been confronted by a more tempting sight in all his life. That curtain of gorgeous black hair swinging across her deliciously bare back brought seriously erotic images to mind. As did the split up the back of that long clinging red skirt, exposing great legs with shapely calves and narrow ankles.

Callum’s gaze stayed glued to her as she picked up a beaded black shawl from the hall stand, and threw it around her beautifully bare shoulders with all the style and grace of a flamenco dancer. It was a sensual movement, with a sexually provocative garment, the shawl being transparent behind the beads.

Callum was glad Josie took her time, checking her hair in the mirror first as well as the contents of a black beaded purse, then extracting a set of keys from the hall stand drawer before turning back to face him. By then, he had his wayward body under stern control.

Still, it seemed the coming evening wasn’t going to be the piece of cake he claimed it would be. Not unless he could have this piece of cake, and eat it too.