Escorting the Player (The Escort Collection Book 3) (11 page)

C
HASE

"Everything okay?" I asked. I could tell from Avery's pale face that everything was far from it, but I waited for her answer.

"No. But it will be."

"Can I help?"

Avery shook her head. "I don't think so."

"Do you want to have a drink?" She looked as though she could use one.

She nodded, her chin wobbling a little.

I poured her a glass of wine and motioned for her to sit on my lap. "C'mere. Come to Chase."

She warily obeyed and I wrapped my arms around her. I kissed the top of her head. "Was that your sister?"

She shrugged and nestled against my chest. "I don't want to talk about it."

"Why not?"

She started playing with my hair. "Because I don't want to talk. I just want to be with you."

My cock immediately sprang to life, even as an alarm was going off in my head.

"Take me to bed," Avery whispered in my ear.

I immediately picked her up and carried her to my room. And then I made love to her, slowly, deeply, my body saying all the things I didn't dare to.

E
ric made
me go for a run with him. "You run too slow," I complained, as we headed down the path next to the Charles River.

He tried to smile at me as he panted. "That'll give us more time to talk."

"Great. Talk about what?"

"My favorite client." Eric checked his iWatch. The pussy was probably monitoring his heart rate. "I have more news about Jess and Pax. They're closing in on a network deal."

"That's just great," I grunted.

"It has me thinking…" he said. "I'm worried about Avery. I'm worried they're going to find out about her and use the information against you."

I glared at him. "You're worrying about that
now
? Shouldn't you have thought of it earlier?"

"
Earlier
I wasn't worried about you getting serious about her." He huffed next to me.

"I'm not getting serious about her." I looked straight ahead.

"So…if I tell you that I don't think you need her anymore, will you be willing to cut her loose?" Eric asked.

"Right now?" I asked. Panic filled my chest.

"Yep. Right now."

"I think that's premature," I said, still not looking at him.

"Uh-huh. I thought so, buddy."

"Shut up, Eric."

"I can't breathe, anyway. I'm gonna have to."

"That's the best news I've heard all day," I said.

O
ne of the
perks of being an NFL quarterback with lots of endorsement deals was that you could afford movers. And decorators. And you could pay them to do things extra-fast.

We were in my new house almost as soon as the ink was dry on the contract.

I was examining my wine refrigerator when there was a knock on the door. I looked at my watch; it was six p.m. I cautiously approached the security camera and peered at it. We weren't expecting anyone.

There, on the front step, the person I feared the most.

My mother. Looking indignant.

"Oh God," I groaned.

Avery looked at me worriedly. "Who is it?" She got pale. "Is it my sister?"

"No. It's worse." My shoulders slumped. "It's my mother. And she's upset with me because I haven't introduced you to her yet. Or invited her to see the new house."

Avery raised her eyebrows. "Oh boy." She was quiet for a second, biting her lip. "She doesn't…
know
about me, does she?"

"Hell no," I said. "Not that my mother would judge you—she's not like that."

I looked at the door, panic-stricken. I wasn't going to tell her anything, but I couldn't underestimate my mother's ability to find shit out. "I have to let her in now. It'll be fine. Trust me."

Avery nodded nervously as I swung the door open.

"Ma!" I said, taking my mom in my arms and giving her a hug. "You should've called! I would've sent a car."

"I figured I had to surprise you, or you'd say you were too busy for me." Martha pulled back from me and adjusted her lavender-rimmed, owl-like glasses. Her blond hair was pulled back in a demure headband, and she was wearing a yellow button-down sweater. If you didn't know her, she would look like your average, Volvo-driving, preppy, middle-aged woman. The truth was, she was a ruthlessly plainspoken, proud, tiger cat of a mom. I started to internally sweat. I hope she liked Avery. She'd
hated
Jessica, and it had been a disaster from the beginning.

I didn't have time to wonder why I was so concerned about my mother approving of my fake girlfriend.

"I'm assuming this is your girlfriend?" she asked, gesturing to Avery. She looked her up and down. "The one you've been keeping from me?"

Avery smiled at her cautiously. She shook my mother's hand. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Layne."

Martha smiled back at her. "
Finally
," she said, making her way into the house.

"This is lovely." She clucked her tongue as she looked around the entryway and headed into the kitchen. "Very nice. Too bad I had to come down and ambush you in order to see it. I've been feeling more than a little left out lately, honey."

"Aw, I'm sorry," I said. "There's just been so much going on."

"It's been sort of a whirlwind," Avery agreed.

Martha turned to Avery, inspecting her carefully, as if she were an expensive organic melon at a farmer's market. "Is this something you're used to? This lifestyle? The limelight?"

She shook her head. "No, ma'am."

My mother crossed her arms against her chest and eyed her with suspicion. "You seem like you're adjusting pretty well."

"Uh…let me show you the living room," I said, hustling my mother toward it.

"I'm going to let you two catch up." Avery retreated toward the kitchen. "Mrs. Layne, are you hungry? I was just about to make dinner."

"I could eat," Martha said. She didn't sound as grateful as I wished she had, but it was at least a start.

"You don't have to grill her, Ma. Avery's on my team." I sat down heavily on the couch and patted the chair next to me. My mother sat down warily, watching my face.

"You two seem pretty serious. At least from all the pictures I've seen," she sniffed.

I shrugged. "She's really sweet. She makes me happy." When I said it out loud to my mom, I realized how true it was.

"That's good, " Martha said. "I just want you to be careful this time. I don't want to see you go through what you went through with Jessica again."

"I won't." I leaned forward. "Avery isn't anything like that."

Martha was quiet for a moment, picking invisible lint off her clothes. "I spoke to Eric."

My heart squeezed. Eric couldn't have told her the truth about Avery. He wouldn't.

"He's worried about you." Her voice was neutral.

"Oh yeah? Why is that?" My throat felt tight.

My mom looked up at me, a sad look on her face. "Are you really planning on lying to me, Chase? Your own mother?"

"Lying to you about what?"

"Lying about Avery," she said. She looked crestfallen. "Eric told me the truth. That he'd hired this girl for you."

I swallowed hard. I opened my mouth and then closed it.
Fucking Eric.

Martha shook her head. "A
prostitute
? How could you disrespect women like that?"

"It's not like that," I said. "Eric hired her to pretend she was my girlfriend. We thought it would be a good counterattack to what Jessica and Pax were doing. It was never a sexual arrangement, mom. I was never paying her for sex." I winced and felt myself redden. I was pretty sure my mother and I hadn't had a conversation which included the word 'sex' since our mutually humiliating birds-and-bees talk in sixth grade.

"But you're still paying her, right?" Martha asked gently. "And you're having sex with her now?"

"
Mom.
" I clenched my hands into fists. "Enough. And just wait until I get my hands on Eric—"

"The reason Eric told me is because he's your friend. And he's worried about you," she interrupted me. "He's worried that you care about her. And that the press is going to find out who she really is and that your career is never going to recover."

I swallowed hard. "Eric should've thought of that before he hired her."
I should have, too.

"I don't think he was thinking or planning on you falling in love with her."

"Who said I was in love with her?"

My mother patted my hand. "You are gorgeous, brilliant and talented," she said, "but sometimes you need a little help."

A
VERY

I watched warily as Martha entered the kitchen. "So Eric told you?" I wiped down a countertop that was already clean. "I overheard. I figure I wouldn't be so good at pretending I hadn't."

She nodded at me sympathetically. "I am not one to judge, hon. I've only met you tonight, but I can already tell you're much nicer than that Jessica. She was a real piece of work." She sat down on one of the barstools and watched as I prepared a skirt steak for Chase. "Can I help? I can make a salad just the way he likes."

I nodded at her, feeling guarded. "Sure." What I wanted to say was that I would love to know how to make Chase's favorite salad because I wanted—more than anything—to be able to do those sorts of things for him, even though I was a prostitute from the wrong side of the tracks. Even though there was an expiration date on our relationship. On our fake relationship.

Martha got up and assembled a line of vegetables, and then settled herself back down at the island with a cutting board. She chopped calmly, and the silence was not uncomfortable. "So," she said, "do you love my son?"

"Huh?"

She looked up and pursed her lips. "You might as well answer."

I leaned back against the countertop and blew out a defeated breath. Now I understood why Chase had looked panicked when she'd shown up on his doorstep.

"I genuinely respect and care for your son, Mrs. Layne."

She went back to the vegetables. "But?"

"
But
I don't think that I'm the right person for him, even though I wish I was." Saying it out loud made my heart hurt.

"I'm happy to see that you're feeding him. At least you got that part right." Martha concentrated on chopping a cucumber—then the carrots, then the mushrooms, then the beets. I had no idea what she was thinking. I also had no idea that Chase enjoyed beets, which I found foreign and vaguely disgusting. After a few minutes, she raised her eyes to meet mine as she put the vegetables neatly into the salad bowl. "I've never seen my son like this with a woman before," she said.

I started. "What about Jessica? He said that he was so into her in the beginning that he didn't see all the screaming, neon signs that she was trouble."

"Jessica was a pain from the beginning. Chase didn't see it, that's true. But that's because I think she did some things for him in bed that nobody else had done before." I felt myself start to blush, and Martha shook her head at me. "I don't like to stick my nose too far into my son's personal life. I'm just telling you what I saw. And what I see now."

I crossed my arms against my chest. "So what do you see now?" That stupid, hopeful bird was fluttering around my chest again, suddenly frenzied.

I was going to have to take it out back and shoot it sooner rather than later.

"He proposed to Jessica because she gave him an ultimatum. He also thought she made him look good. I think with
that
relationship, my son made the mistake of being more rational than emotional. The opposite is true with you. I can tell he cares about you even though he knows it's not the right thing for his career. That's not like my son. Nothing is more important to Chase than football."

I nodded at her, feeling miserable.

She regarded me for a moment. "Do you love my son? I'm not going to ask you again."

I tried to keep my face mask-like. But what the hell? Was the truth going to hurt any more than another lie?

"Of course I love him," I said finally. "But I don't
want
to love him."

Martha nodded and adjusted her lavender-framed glasses. "It's nice to see that my son actually does have good taste. After that Jessica, I had some real questions." She turned toward the living room. "Chase!" She hollered. "Dinner!"

C
HASE

When she left later that night, my mother only had one thing to say about Avery. "She's good people." She patted me on the arm. "I approve, dear. You should always run them by me first. I'm your mother, and I really do know best."

"So you…
like
her?"

Martha nodded. "You can't always choose who you love. And I don't think it's wise to judge someone's circumstances so harshly. That doesn't mean this is going to be easy. But I'm also assuming a lot right now by even saying that."

"What do you mean?"

"I
mean
it's assuming a lot to say that she'll have a relationship with you." Martha shook her head. "She seems certain that she's bad for you and your career. From what I saw, that's going to be a big problem. Because she puts you first."

"Huh. Wow." I looked at my mother, flabbergasted. "How'd you get to be so smart, mom?"

"Because I always had to stay two steps ahead of you for your own good." She hugged me then headed out the door. "You're going to have to convince her that she's more important to you than your career. And I honestly don't know if you're capable of that. I will tell you, however, that I'm a big fan of a happy ending. See what you can do for your poor neglected mother."

I kissed her good-bye and then closed the door, resting against it heavily, thinking about what my mom had said.

I truly sucked at lying. In order for me to convince Avery that she was more important to me than football, that would have to be true.
Was it?
If the truth came out about her background and that I'd hired her, my position as the NFL's reigning golden boy would be seriously compromised. It would also create a press feeding frenzy that could critically impact both my team and my season—exactly what I'd hired her to avoid in the first place.