toward my desk—my itemized lists dotting every surface—and know right now I need to be even better at it.
Ryker Lockhart.
He’s the reason why I need to up my game.
He’s the man Lola was supposed to meet for the first time tonight, and no thanks to the senator, now she can’t.
He’s the key to reaching the next level in this business.
And damn it to hell if he isn’t gorgeous as well.
Lowering myself into my desk chair, I study the striking image on my computer screen of Ryker Lockhart staring back at me.
Dark hair with salt and pepper at the temples that adds a distinguished air to him. His hair has a wave to it that he’s tried to control with product. His eyes are captivating. Intense. Their light-brandy color and the look in them hold my attention much longer than they should.
“Why do you need an escort?” I murmur, curious why a man that handsome has any problem getting a woman.
He must be a jerk.
Or be horrible in bed.
But even jerks and guys who are selfish in the sack get women when they look like him.
With a shake of my head, I turn to his profile and reacquaint myself with it, even though I know every detail by heart, as is my habit. I skim over it. Ryker Lockhart, age thirty-five. One of New York’s high-powered divorce attorneys with a net worth astronomical enough to keep him in luxurious penthouses and lavish cars for more than a lifetime.
Too bad all that money and status can’t buy the man some favor, because anyone I know who’s gotten close enough to even call him an acquaintance says he’s so aloof that you can’t figure out if he’s really an asshole or just playing the part.
I study his image longer than I should.
Definitely a legitimate asshole.
Good thing for me I have enough to keep him in line. Just like all of my clients, Ryker has a skeleton or two in his closet that I’ll keep close to my vest for safekeeping should the need to use it arise.
I flip through his completed profile questionnaire. His likes and dislikes in a woman are pretty typical—nothing one of my girls can’t provide for him. The only difference from my other clients is his stipulation that, in not so many words, requires his chosen girl to jump when he snaps his fingers.
Most men would like to think that’s how women react to them but deep down know otherwise.
Ryker Lockhart actually made me put it in his contract.
One woman. Available to him at all times.
Easy enough in my line of business. Not so easy when his chosen escort is the now-bruised Lola.
But I agreed to the add in the contract because I’ve learned men are simple creatures. Either they want the same woman time and again so they feel like she adores them and wants them, and it builds their ego, or the man wants multiple women. A new date each time to feed their insatiable sexual appetite, while at the same time wanting anyone who sees them out and about to equate numerous gorgeous women with their status as players.
Both reasons are screwed up.
Both reasons are why men and sex and the interconnection of the two are nothing more than something to manipulate to my benefit.
But now I’m the one who’s screwed.
Ryker’s a new client. One I’ve wooed my way after hearing through the grapevine that he was in the market for a service. Funny thing is, I thought he was reaching out to me in the hope of helping his affluent clients. Men who have more money than they know what to do with and are feeling a little reckless now that they’ve gotten rid of the old ball and chain after so many years with it cinched tight. What better way to celebrate your divorce than with some great, no-strings-no-emotion-in-the-way sex?
So I threw the kitchen sink at Ryker. A few extras, a couple of discounts . . . and a lot of promises. Little did I know that the first client he was going to throw my way was himself.
And now I’m backed into a corner. Now I have to make good on all of my promises, and the first one out of the gate—that Lola is going to be his companion for the night—isn’t going to happen.
I look down at my phone and fire off a quick, cowardly text to him and prepare to kiss all of his influence and referrals goodbye. Because making