By day, Lena Morrison is an ambitious grant writer. By night, she's an escort to some of Chicago's most successful men. Sex isn't on the menu--Lena's job is to provide her elite clients with comanionship and sparkling conversation. She enjoys the extra income, but even more, Lena loves the empowering feeling of being appreciated for her beauty and her brains.
When tycoon Roderick Brand hires Lena as his date for a private party, their electric attraction leads to the most erotic night of her life. Incredible as the experience is, she vows not to mix work and pleasure again. But Roderick is relentless. His irresistible proposal: three weeks fulfilling all his fantasies, in exchange for a million-dollar grant that will guarantee Lena a major promotion.
Lena can play that game. She'll give him the hottest, wildest sex he's ever had, then she'll walk away, leaving him aching for more. But when it comes to desire, rules--and hearts-- are easily broken. And the best-laid plans have a way of working out in ways neither could expect....
"Are we almost there?"
The uniformed chauffeur met Lena Morrison's gaze in the rearview mirror. "About five more minutes."
Nodding briskly, Lena slid a tube of MAC lipstick across her mouth and surveyed her reflection in the compact mirror she'd removed from her evening purse. The lustrous red color made her full lips look as juicy and inviting as ripe mangoes dangling from the bowed branches of a tree. Smoky eye shadow accentuated her wide, dark eyes and high cheekbones. She'd exchanged her conservative office attire for a sexy black dress that hugged her curves and had a plunging back. Diamonds glittered at her ears, throat and wrists.
She looked like a million bucks. Felt like it, too.
So it was only fitting that tonight she was escorting one of Chicago's most eligible bachelors to a glitzy party aboard his private yacht. Roderick Brand, president and CEO of a multinational energy conglomerate. Educated at MIT. Recently named Businessman of the Year by Forbes. Net worth $2.4 billion.
Lena had done her research, of course. As a professional escort, it was her job to learn as much as she could about her wealthy clients. The more she knew and understood about them, the better she could serve their needs.
"Here we are."
The Bentley limousine had glided to a stop in front of a sleek glass high-rise located on Lake Shore Drive. At the canopied entrance to the building, a doorman greeted elegantly dressed couples heading out for a night on the town.
From the backseat of the limo, Lena watched as the driver spoke into the car phone. After a few moments, he hung up and met her eyes in the rearview mirror. "Mr. Brand will be down shortly."
Lena nodded, smiled. "Thank you."
As a rule, she never entered her clients' residences. While most of them understood that she was paid to accompany them to social events, there were always a few who expected more from her. After being groped, propositioned--even cornered in a bathroom--Lena had decided it'd be easier to maintain professional boundaries if she never stepped foot inside her clients' homes.
Her need for boundaries was what prompted her to get up and move to the opposite seat. She felt more comfortable sitting face-to-face to her clients rather than side by side. And it worked out great for the ones who enjoyed ogling her legs across the aisle, hoping for a glimpse up her dress. Wryly she wondered if tonight's client--
Suddenly Lena gasped, staring out the window.
The most gorgeous man she'd ever seen had just emerged from the building. At least six foot three and powerfully built, with wide, muscular shoulders and endlessly long legs that carried him forward with purpose. Lena had escorted some of the richest men to countless black-tie affairs, but she'd never known any man to wear the hell out of a tuxedo. Until tonight. Roderick Brand couldn't have looked finer if he'd just completed a cover shoot for GQ.
As he reached the waiting limo, Lena mouthed to herself, Oh. My. God.
The driver had gotten out to open the back door for Roderick. Lena's stomach clenched as he lowered himself into the plush leather seat across from her.
Their eyes met.
It was as if all the oxygen had been sucked out of the car--or out of Lena's lungs, at the very least. Suddenly she had difficulty breathing.
For several moments neither of them attempted to speak.
As Roderick's dark, glittering gaze traveled over her face and body, Lena shamelessly returned the favor. None of the photos she'd seen of him could begin to do the man justice. He was...