Worth the Risk_ A Contemporary - Megan Hart Page 0,1

the arrangements for you. You pick the place and time, and I'll contact your escort to make sure he's available." Ms. Whitehead ran her finger down the lines in the appointment book. "He usually is. As I said, LoveMatch will pick up the escort fee, and this time, dinner is on us. But after that--"

"Of course," Laila said. She thumbed open her phone’s calendar, though she knew her evenings were free. Like Hal, she was usually available. "Wednesday night looks good for me. MJ's Coffeehouse at the Allen Theater in Annville?"

Ms. Whitehead nodded. "We can have Hal pick you up at home, or if you prefer, you can meet him at the date location. Most of our clients choose to meet their escorts in a public place first--although a good many of them end up letting their dates escort them home."

Laila ignored the older woman's wink. She wasn't hiring Hal to be her sex toy. She needed him to act as her fiancé for one week, during her grandparents' sixtieth anniversary celebration. She needed him to treat her terribly, act like a total jerk in front of her family, and break things off with her in such a way they'd never ask about him again.

"If I do decide that Hal will work out, can I be sure he's available for the entire week?"

"Many of our clients have taken their escorts on vacations with them. Most of our men make a very nice living doing what they do. I shouldn't imagine there'll be any problem."

Not for an all-expense paid vacation and a nice fat fee, too. Laila cringed at what this was going to do to her bank account, but getting her family's attention away from her love life was worth any price. Ian's insurance money would have paid for a nice exotic vacation or a big screen television. Instead it would pay for a new fiancé.

"Fine." Laila shook Ms. Whitehead's hand. "Seven-thirty?"

"Wonderful." Ms. Whitehead's lips, crimson to match her nails, spread into a genuine smile. "Good luck, dear."

"Thank you," Laila said.

She'd need it.

The smell of sweat was overpowering. Hal Kessler swallowed heavily and kept his feet moving on the elliptical trainer. Twenty minutes to go and he'd be done.

"So I was saying," Rick Mallard went on, oblivious to Hal's silence. "The chick really dug me, you know? And she was stacked! And loaded, too. So her face was could crack a mirror, hey, so what? She took me to Visaggio's for dinner three times in one week."

"Huh," Hal said.

"So of course I had to make sure I gave her dessert," Rick said with a leer.

The tan blond man adjusted the buttons on his trainer, stepping up the pace. Even though his feet were going twice as fast as Hal's, Rick didn't even sound out of breath. His back muscles, clearly visible through the white mesh tank shirt he wore, pumped and worked as he strode. Hal could work out for years and his back would never look like that.

"Huh," Hal said again, noncommittally. It was about all he could manage without puffing embarrassingly.

"Then this other broad, name's Marsha, hips like a battleship, know what I mean? But she's loaded, too. She took me to Neiman Marcus and bought me a tux just so we could go to the theater."

"A client bought me a book of poetry once," Hal offered. He tried not to let a gasp punctuate every word.

Rick shot him a look. "Wow, Kessler. That's uh--cool."

It had been very cool, Hal thought. Soloman's Song of Songs. Love poetry, filled with rich and passionate imagery. Mary Kate Peterson had been that client's name, and one of the few who'd hired him more than once. She'd never asked him for any "dessert," though.

"So anyway--" The trill of an incoming text message interrupted Rick's story.

Rick's hand went automatically to phone clipped in a case at his waistband, and he pressed the button. The beeping continued. It took Rick's look of comical surprise to make Hal realize it wasn't Rick's phone making the noise. It was his own.

"Kessler, it's you." Rick shook his head and tossed his long, blond hair over his shoulders. "Go for it, dude."

Hal fumbled with the phone’s tiny buttons. The beeping stopped abruptly, but because he'd had to let go of the elliptical machine's handrail, Hal lost his balance. Suddenly the machine was going too fast for his feet, and he couldn't keep up. As he tried to stop the machine and get off all at the same time