Submersed (3 page)

             
Thousands of people did thousands of things each and every day. I could do this one thing and not have a nervous breakdown. I crossed my fingers behind my back. Only time would tell.

             
The phone rang and I nearly jumped out of my skin.

             
I rushed over, picked it up and looked at the caller ID. The number was the same one I’d just dialed ten minutes ago.

             
Oh
Lordy
. It was him already. I was sure I’d have a couple more hours to obsess over his call.
A couple of
years
, maybe?

             
I swallowed but it did nothing to moisten my dry throat. “Hello?” I croaked.

             
“Olivia?”

             
It was the sexy voice again and this time it wasn’t a recording.

             
“Yes, this is Olivia,” I said a little too primly.

             
“Hey, it’s Dillon. What can I do for you?”

             
“Yes, Dillon. Hi…I…uh…I was thinking about hiring you.” I held the phone away from my ear and grimaced. Sheesh, I sounded like a complete moron. There was no way he would agree to see me.

             
“Okay,” he said easily.

             
“But,” I hurried on without taking a breath, “I’d like to set up a meeting first to go over some things.”

             
Christ, I felt like I was hiring a gardener and needed to discuss my shrubs with him.

             
The boxwoods should be rounded and the Rhododendrons need trimming. Oh, and don’t forget to water the azaleas.

             
“Great,” Dillon said. “Why don’t we meet somewhere?” He named a coffee shop downtown.

             
My knees started to shake at the idea of meeting him, or anyone for that matter, out in a public place. Out in that…that horrifying jungle. No
freakin
’
way.

             
“I’m afraid that won’t work for me. Uh, is there any way you can come here?”

             
“Sure, no problem.”

             
God, he was making this too damn easy.

             
“How about six?
Does that work for you?” he asked.

             
I glanced at the clock.
Holy
canoli
.
That was an hour from now. That didn’t give me nearly enough time to prepare what I was going to say. I had to analyze and calculate and…
Calm down
, I told myself. It was better to get it over with now than to dread it even more than I already did. Not that that was even possible.

             
“That’ll be fine,” I said.

             
“Okay, Olivia. Where are you at?”

             
“Oh, right.” I smacked myself on the forehead and then cringed, hoping he didn
’
t hear the
thwap
sound. “I’m at the Sharpe Hotel and Casino.
Penthouse Suite.”

             
If I was expecting a reaction, I didn’t get one. Then again, he was probably called to various hotels and rooms all the time. This would just be another day at the office for him.

             
“Frank the concierge will show you to the private elevator,” I added. “He’ll be expecting you.”

             
“Sounds good.
I’ll see you at six.”

             
“Okay. Thank you.”

             
I hung up and forced myself to take a deep breath. It hadn’t been a completely awful conversation and I was still in one piece.

             
He
sounded
like a regular, normal guy. Well, I’d give him that. Too bad I wasn’t a regular, normal woman.

             
It had all been a little too simple.
Like ordering a pizza for delivery.
For Pete’s sake, what had I been expecting?
A blood test?
DNA profiling?
Sheesh
.

             
Next, I called Frank at the concierge desk. As always, he promptly answered on the first ring.

             
“How may I help you Miss Olivia?”

             
Frank used to call me Miss Sharpe and after months of insisting he call me Olivia, this was our compromise.

             
“Hi, Frank. I’m expecting a Dillon…” Oh, crap. I didn’t know the guy’s last name. Most of them didn’t even list a last name. They went by first name only like Jude or Chase. And when they did list a last name, it was something phony like Armani or Dior. So, I just plowed forward without a last name and hoped Frank didn
’
t notice my omission.
“At six.
Will you show him up when he gets here?”

             
“Certainly, Miss Olivia.
Will you be requiring anything else?”

             
Oh, I don
’
t know.
Maybe a lobotomy.

             
“No, that’ll be all,” I answered. “Thank you.”

             
I grabbed
m
y laptop and re-read the payment procedure and rates. I would need to pay Dillon upfront in cash. I dashed over to the safe in my bedroom, counted out the money and tucked it into an envelope. The money reminded me this was a simple business transaction and I took a smidgen of comfort from that.

             
What wasn’t comfortable was my breathing. I was sucking in air like a Hoover Deluxe.

             
If I kept this up, I’d be passed out on the floor by the time he arrived. For fear of hyperventilating, I forced myself to stand still and inhale a few slow deep breaths. After a few minutes of
zen
thoughts and positive affirmations, I was ready for whatever my phone call might bring to my door.

             
Taking advantage of the next forty-five minutes, I ran a brush through my hair and applied some mascara. Lip-gloss wouldn’t transform me into a glamorous fashion model, but it helped to make me feel not so frumpy. After brushing my teeth and
gurgling
a quart of Listerine, I went into my closet.

             
I changed out of my comfy paint splattered yoga pants into my favorite pair of jeans that magically lifted my ass so it had the illusion of looking perky. I put on a cute top over a bra that promised to lift and enhance in all the right places.

             
Then I studied my reflection in the mirror and wondered how I’d veered so far from the path I’d envisioned myself on when I was a child. Back then, I’d had so many dreams, such ambitious goals.
In
both my personal and professional life.
Now, here I was resorting to paying someone to spend time with me.

             
So much for a pep talk before
showtime
.

             
When the knock on my door sounded, I felt anything but comfortable and reassured. I felt like a frightened deer frozen in the crosshairs.

             
I studied him through the peephole until my breath fogged it up. The fisheye lens gave me a warped view of him and all I could see was that he was indeed tall and dark.

             
Ever so slowly, I opened the door.

             
He smiled and I was temporarily blinded by his white teeth. He was wearing a snug gray V-neck tee shirt and jeans that looked like he paid a lot of money for them to have that faded worn-in look.

             
Just like his picture, he had black hair, not too short and not too long, a medium build and an overall nice athletic body. He looked so much bigger in person than the photo on the website.
So much taller, more muscular, more…male.

             
His eyes?
What color were they? Shoot, I forgot to look. Now if I looked, he’d wonder why I was staring at him like a freak.

             
Keeping my eyes on his shoes, I fumbled with the door handle, contemplating whether I should let him in or close the door and hide behind it for the rest of my natural life.

             
The more my heartbeat sped up, the more the second option was sounding better and better. It wasn’t too late to back out now, was it? My reputation and family name were still intact before anybody got hurt.

             
He spoke first, shattering any thoughts I had of escaping. “Hi. I’m Dillon.”

             
At the sound of his voice, I snapped my head up to his face.

             
Blue. His eyes were blue. So dark they almost looked black, but they were definitely blue.
A cross between midnight and cobalt.
I made a mental note of the color so I could paint them later. I would have to get the color just right.

             
His hand was outstretched, waiting for me to shake it.

             
Somehow, I couldn’t see the point of shaking a man’s hand
who
got paid for sex, but I did it anyway. Immediately after, I wished my
Purell
was handy. It would be rude to use it right in front of him, wouldn’t it? That was okay, I could take a bath in it later after he left.

             
“Olivia,” I said, finally remembering my name. “Please, come in.” I couldn’t just leave him out here in the hallway for the whole world to see, now could I?

             
“Thank you.”

             
As Dillon moved passed me, it dawned on me that I hadn’t had a man in my room since I’d moved to Las Vegas five years ago. In fact, the only people I’d allowed in my suite were my father, Michelle and room service. No wonder Dillon’s presence was overwhelming every fiber of my being.

             
The sound of the door clicking shut behind us made me shudder. Great, now I was alone with him and I had no idea what to do.

             
We were just going to talk, I reminded myself. Two mature adults having a conversation. My twisted nerve endings refused to listen to my logic.

             
First things first, I gave him the envelope and he took it, his eyes never leaving my face. Without counting the money, he slipped the envelope discreetly into his back pocket.

             
“Wow.” He strode over to the wall of windows and looked out at the city. “You’ve got a great view from up here.”

             
“Yeah.”

             
The view of Dillon from behind wasn’t too shabby either. His ass rounded out his jeans like a dream. He turned back to face me and I cleared my throat like a child caught with her hand in the cookie jar.

             
When he took a few steps toward me, I backed up until I felt the door cold against my back.

             
“So, how do you want to do this?” he asked.

             
My heart knocked against my ribs. My limbs turned to jelly, the wiggly grape kind, and my teeth chattered. Here was this beautiful hunk of a man in my room willing to comply with my every need.
My every
sexual
need.

             
“Oh, God.
I don’t think I can do this,” I whimpered.

             
He rushed towards me as I started to sag to the floor like a pathetic sack of potatoes.

             
Gently, he led me to a nearby chair and I sat down, wishing for a paper bag to breathe into. Did that really work or did they just do that on TV? Forget
it,
I just wanted one to put over my head.

             
“It’s okay,” he told me.

             
If I didn’t know better I’d think he was comforting me. This man didn’t know me from Adam and he was offering me reassurance. Then I remembered the envelope in his pocket and the warm fuzzy feeling evaporated. People did all sorts of things for money. They had sex with strangers, comforted loony women…

             
He kneeled in front of me and patted my knee. “There’s no need to be nervous. Just take a deep breath and tell me why you called.”

             
The most I could manage was a small, ragged breath.

             
He had just touched my knee
.