January (Calendar Girl #1) Anthology Anthology (155 page)

My throat felt strained, tight, when I responded. “Look, Wes. I’m sorry. I get what you’re saying. I do. And you’re right.”

“Does that mean you’re going to come home?” Two heaping spoonfuls of hope laced his question.

Home. Where was home? In California, the tiny apartment I hadn’t stepped foot in within the last five months, or Vegas, in my childhood shack of a house, or is it on the coast of Malibu in the arms of a very dreamy man who likely owned more of my heart than I’d care to admit.

I licked my lips and huffed loudly. “Wes, you know I can’t do that.”

He groaned softly, each rumble sticking a knife in my gut. “Not true. You can. You won’t.” He emphasized each phrase.

I shook my head trying to clear the cobweb of emotions running a marathon through my mind. “I can’t let you pay my father’s debt.”

“Again,” he sighed. “You can. You won’t,” he said again. He sounded tired, weighed down by each word. And it was all my fault. I was doing this to him, to us. These chats were getting harder every time, and I still had half a year to go. It was anyone’s guess where we’d be at the end of this year. So far, we weren’t fairing too well as friends. We were constantly hurting one another without even trying.

An enormous pause lingered between us as I tried to think of what to say next, yet coming up with nothing.

“When can I see you again?” he broke the silence.

He still wanted to see me? I didn’t understand this man. Hell, I didn’t understand most men, especially not this one.

“Um, I don’t know. I’ve just landed in Washington, DC. Arm candy for an older gentleman.”

Wes’s laughter rang through the line. “A geezer? At least I know you won’t be giving it up to an old guy with a prescription for Viagra.”

“That’s not nice!” I playfully scolded. “Besides, he has a hot son who’s a Senator. You know me and powerful men…”

Wes’s laughter died instantly, that brief moment of peace shattered. The tension rose between us again. “You’re joking?” he asked.

Hook. Line. Sinker.

“Nope.”

“Fuck me,” he groaned.

“Gladly,” I shot back without thinking.

“When?” He didn’t miss a beat.

“When I see you next, silly.”

“Which will be?” He kept it going, but I was no longer sure he was playing around anymore. This thing between us zig-zagged, twisted and turned; it was never an easy road to maneuver.

“Don’t know. I guess I’ll see you when I see you.” I offered.

“Why me?” His voice was loud and frustrated, sounding like a man who’d looked up at the sky, held his arms wide, and yelled at his maker. “Why the hell did I have to go balls to the wall crazy for a nut job like you?” Then he laughed that throaty, beautiful chuckle that belonged only to him and him alone. The one that made my heart pound so hard it felt like it might burst out of my chest if I didn’t press my hand to it.

I shrugged, but he couldn’t see it. “If the Universe deals you a shit hand, bet against the dealer. Bye, Wes.”

Instead of waiting for him to say goodbye, I ended the call and took several calming breaths. It is time to get your eyes back on the prize, Mia. Warren Shipley. Your next client.

***

Warren Shipley did not greet me at the entrance to his mansion. No. The man that stood at the top of the stone steps when I exited the town car looked like he’d walked out of
GQ Magazine
. Aaron Shipley, the Democratic Senator for California leaned against the white column. I’d been around beautiful men. I’d been around giant alphas who could chop wood with their bare hands, but I’d not yet seen a man that wore a suit the way this one did. Pure perfection.

The dark charcoal fabric clung precisely to his broad shoulders, trim waist, and long legs, as if it had been tailored to fit his exact measurements. Probably was. His eyes were shaded behind a pair of black Ray Bans. Thick-looking, dirty blond hair was coiffed into that messy bedhead, yet styled look that was so popular right now. On him it worked, and it worked hard. It gave him that put-together appeal with a hint of whimsy. It was a lethal combination for a girl like me. Hell, for any girl.

As sleek as a steel gray jaguar, he took one step at a time from the top of the stone stairway down to the gravel drive below. Most people would make the attempt to meet him half-way up the dozen or so steps. I’m not most women and he was definitely not most men. I enjoyed watching him move. He had an air of authority that clung to him like a fine, crisp cologne. I watched him take each step with grace and agility, exuding so much power I almost melted on the spot. The earlier complaint of humidity paled in comparison to the sweat I could feel beading at my nape, a single drop running down the length of my spine, shooting sparks of desire out each nerve ending.

“You must be Ms. Saunders.” His tone was straightforward, yet welcoming, as he held out his hand. The moment our hands touched an electric charge zapped my palm. I tried to pull away. He clung tighter. “Curious. I rarely feel someone’s essence just from a single touch.”

“My essence?”

A secretive smile stole across his kissable lips. They weren’t too thin or too plump. Like Goldilocks and her three bears, those lips would fit mine just right. He still hadn’t let my hand go. Instead, he turned it over, keeping our palms touching. Just that simple skin on skin contact was enough to have me salivating for more. He pushed up his glasses into his hair, a move that was far too cool for someone of his political stature. Men like him were supposed to be dull, boring, and all about government blah blah blah…my thoughts were interrupted by the depth of his brown eyes positively searing into mine. They were like identical Hershey Kisses, melting
me
instead. I sighed as his thumb brushed along the top of my hand.

“Your essence is your life force, your magnetism. When we touched, I felt the charge. Did you feel it?” I nodded numbly, staring into those chocolaty orbs, focusing on the straight nose, the high cheekbones and chiseled jawline. “When I press our palms together harder”—he placed his other hand over the top of the one he was holding, forcing them closer together—“it’s much stronger now.” His eyebrow quirked at the same time I licked my lips. Those eyes went straight to my mouth and my knees weakened.

It took every ounce of strength I possessed not to lick my lips again. “Come,” he said and I swear that one word alone sent a bolt of electricity directly to my pleasure center where it throbbed and pulsated, ticking to its own clock. He said something else, but I lost track after the word
come
. He let go of my hand and reached up to cup my cheek. Oh, man, I liked that a million times better, but it also forced me to focus on my surroundings. “Mia, are you okay?” His gaze roamed all over my face. Worry and concern were prevalent in the line that appeared between his brows. “I said come on, Father is waiting.”

I blinked a few times and then focused. “Oh, yeah. Sorry.” I shook my head attempting to clear the remaining lust fog . “It was a really long travel day. I was in Hawaii and came straight from there to here, with a couple layovers in between. I’ve been up all night.” Layovers meant mad dashes to the gate, so I didn’t miss my flights. I could have killed Aunt Millie for booking flights with fifty-minute layovers in between. It left absolutely no time to get to your next plane. Potty breaks were completely out, and the captain didn’t let you go before takeoff, and definitely not until you reached a certain flying altitude. Then there was the one several hour stint where I didn’t land until morning the next day. Not my best travel experience.

Aaron tsked and shook his head. “That sounds dreadful. Let’s introduce you to Father and then I’ll have James show you to your room so we can have a quickie.”

“What!” I stopped at the top of the stairs and pressed my hand into my temple.
A quickie
?

“I said I’ll introduce you to Father, have you settled into your room and then let you rest. The time zone change can be quite tricky.”

“Oh, tricky.” I closed my eyes and laughed internally.

“What did you think I said?” He smiled showing a row of the most beautiful teeth known to man. He could easily grace the cover of magazines. Oh wait, he already had. Never mind.

“I thought you said we could have a quickie.” I laughed, and he stopped in his tracks, this time at the top of the steps next to the front door.

A sly smirk slipped across his lips. “Well, that could be arranged as well, though I don’t know that father would appreciate me dipping my hand into the cookie jar before offering you a proper meal and a date.” He winked and then grabbed my hand. That same sizzle of excitement zipped through our touching palms, stirring the magnetic energy again.

Aaron shifted, glancing at me sideways while leading me through the entryway. “You feel it, too?”

Lord, I wish I didn’t. Instead of lying, I closed my eyes, held my breath, and nodded.

***

I’d thought the sprawling mansion from the driveway up was amazing. It had nothing on the inside. In the foyer was a double staircase lined with yellow carpet. It reminded me of the yellow brick road and how Dorothy would skip along to her destination. If I wasn’t dead tired, I’d be skipping, too. This place was beyond lush. Wes’s Malibu home was beautiful, lived in, and probably cost a mint. Alec’s warehouse was incredible and kitted out. Tony and Hector’s penthouse apartment was swank, but this was a whole other type of rich. When Aunt Millie had said old money, I honestly didn’t know what I was heading into. I thought politician, government? It would probably be a nice place, but this felt like something Britain’s Queen Mother could be comfortable living in. The walls curved, had crown molding, and there were giant windows with thick, wine colored drapes. My feet sunk into the carpet making me want to remove my sandals and go barefoot just so I could dig my toes into the plush pile.

“This is amazing.”

Aaron smiled and looked around seeming unimpressed. “My mother was good with décor.”

“Oh yeah? She must really be proud of this. It’s beautiful.”

“She passed long ago, but she definitely appreciated the many admirers and home journals that shot different rooms here. She made the cover a few times. This home was her pride and joy—once I left for university that is.” He grinned and winked.

It looked like Aaron Shipley’s ego was perfectly intact. I followed him quietly, taking in my surroundings until we were in front of a set of double doors. Laughter rang behind the door as if someone was having a jolly time. Aaron knocked sharply, but didn’t wait for the greeting, opening the door as if he had a right to.

“Ah, Aaron, my boy! Come, come. Kathleen and I were just discussing last week’s debacle with the kitchen.” He pointed to a woman in a navy pencil skirt with a white frilly apron tied around her middle and a cream silk blouse tucked precisely and buttoned up to the neck. She had to be staff. “You see, the caterer for last week’s event thought I wanted…”

“Father...” Aaron cut him off abruptly, which I found rather rude and unappealing. His hotness just got kicked down a notch. “...Ms. Saunders is here.” He tugged my arm forward and I came face-to-face with an older carbon copy of young Shipley.

“Well, aren’t you even more beautiful in person than I saw in your profile. That Ms. Milan knows exactly how to impress. She is going to do perfectly, don’t you think, Aaron?”

Aaron’s eyes roamed my body from head to toe. “Yes, she’s definitely the ideal candidate to gain the attention of your consorts.”

“Come here, my dear. I am Warren Shipley,” he said jovially. Instead of a handshake, he pulled me right into a fatherly hug. “You are not at all what I was expecting.” He moved away and smiled while looking directly into my eyes. Dirty old perverts would be looking down at my breasts in this position. Seemed as though what my aunt said was true. He wasn’t interested in me in
that
way. “Thank you for coming. The situation is unique, but Ms. Milan assured me that you would be a great candidate. Just by your look alone…I can already tell I’m going to have them eating out of the palm of my hand.”

Chapter 2

“What do you mean, just by my look?” My eyebrows narrowed of their own accord.

Aaron huffed behind me then placed a hand on my lower back…very low. It was low enough to feel the curve of my bum through my skirt. Then he patted my behind and came around to the front of me, arms crossed over one another to sit on the edge of his father’s desk.

I was about to filet him for patting my ass like the little wifey, but he took that moment to explain. “Father has hired you because you’re beautiful, young, and will look drop-dead sexy in a cocktail dress. You’ve heard the term ‘arm candy’, right?” His lips pursed as his eyes trailed over my body. I wanted to hate the way it made me feel, but I couldn’t. Something about the open admiration was forbidden coming from someone of his caliber and status. A rich politician sizing up an escort was fucking hot.

“So I’m going to pretend to be your what, Mr. Shipley?” My gaze went to Shipley Senior for clarification.

Warren Shipley glanced at Kathleen who lowered her gaze and looked away, a pained expression crossing her delicate features. “I think I better take my leave and let you discuss business.” Her voice shook as she made a hasty retreat. The woman strode out of the room, so light on her feet I didn’t even hear her footsteps. I guess if you were a house attendant, you learned how to be quiet and not disturb.

Aaron’s father held up a hand to say something to the woman, but Aaron grabbed his hand and pressed it back down to the desk where they leaned. Warren pushed his shoulders back and tipped his head. “My dear, the type of men that I consort with are all members of the One Percent, like myself. They have more money than a thousand people would ever need in their lifetimes, and use it to control big business. I am merely playing along with their game.” That confused me, because the only one percent I knew about was an outlaw biker gang outside of Vegas.