A Man For The Night

“The problem is I have to work tonight.”

Callum slammed the trunk shut, then glanced up, his dark brows drawn together over his deeply set blue eyes. “I thought you said you didn’t have any acting work at the moment.”

“I don’t.”

Callum groaned. “Oh, no, not more modeling work.”

“No. Nothing like that.”

“Then what?”

Clay crossed his fingers behind his back. “I’ve been working as a professional escort, and I have a pre-booked, pre-paid date tonight. I…er…was hoping you could take my place so that I could still go to the party.”

Clay almost laughed at the look on his brother’s face. Boy, was it a classic! He immediately slotted it into his acting memory bank for future reference, so that when a director told him to express shock, disgust, disbelief and indignant outrage all at the same time, he’d know exactly how to do it.

“Before you blow a fuse, bro,” Clay went on hastily when he saw his brother’s hands curl into fists, “let me point out that there are several groups of people close by in this carpark. I’ll hardly make a good impression on my Hollywood big boys if I turn up tonight with a split lip and a black eye.”

“I wasn’t going to hit you,” Callum bit out. “Though you need hitting, you stupid fool. My God, whatever possessed you? Silly question,” he muttered under his breath. “I suppose it was for the money. But surely you couldn’t have needed money that badly that you’d virtually prostitute yourself for it.”

“Hey, get off your high horse there. Being an escort is not synonymous with being a prostitute. I work for a very reputable agency called Gentlemen Partners, and sex is definitely not part of the service provided.”

“That’s not the general view.”

“Then the general view is wrong,” Clay refuted firmly, though his mind did fly to that one date a couple of weeks back. He’d not only ended up in bed with the woman but the next morning she’d pressed an embarrassing amount of money into his hands, all because of some stupid joke he’d made when he’d brought her home the night before. He hadn’t known what to do at the time. In the end, he’d just taken it and left.

Naturally, he wasn’t about to mention that one unfortunate incident to Callum.

His brother still looked furious. “Tell that to the gossip mags if you ever get your name up in bright lights and they find out what you once did for a living!”

“You think I haven’t thought of that? Why do you think I use a false name?”

Callum could not believe his brother’s naiveté. What was a name when he had a face like his? So strikingly handsome and so very memorable. Maybe this escort agency he worked for was extremely respectable, but a lot of those places weren’t. And mud did stick.

“How long have you been doing this?” Callum demanded to know. “How many of these…dates…have you been on?”

“Only half a dozen or so. I don’t know what you’re getting so het up about. It’s an ideal job. I can earn money at night and still have my days free to call on casting agencies and go for auditions.”

“Only ideal if you never make it big in Hollywood,” Callum pointed out. “You keep telling me you are going to make it big in Hollywood, aren’t you?”

“Too right I am.”

“Then I’ll make a deal with you. I’ll stand in for you tonight if you quit the agency tomorrow and find some other line of work. Something which won’t ever find its way into a gossip column. Fair enough?”

“Fair enough,” Clay agreed, and beamed at his brother. “Thanks, bro. You’re the best!”

Callum smiled a wry smile. Clay was always particularly agreeable after he got his own way. Or when Callum rescued him from whatever trouble he’d got himself into. In the past, Callum had stood up for his kid brother more times than he’d had hot dinners, but this was the first time he’d stood in for him.

One day, Callum hoped and prayed, he’d stop being his brother’s keeper. But not yet, obviously.

“Keys,” he said, holding out his hand.

“Ah, come on, bro, let me drive it home. I won’t speed. I promise.”

“No way, Jose. On the way home, you can tell me all about this stupid date I’m going on tonight. Where, what, when and who with? Which reminds me, what name is it you use for your escorting work? I suppose I’ll have to use it too.”

“Beau Grainger,” his brother said, grinning.

Callum winced. The things he had to do!

3

JOSIE LAY BACK in the bubble-filled bathtub, trying to relax and not think about the night ahead. Because there was no going back now. The deed had been done. She’d already hired the guy. Paid for him, too, with her credit card.

Not that she really wanted to back out of the idea. Kay had been right. It was the only way that she could go to the reunion and save her pride.

But it was a bold thing to do. And kind of scary. Beau Grainger might be a good actor and very adept at pretending to be a boyfriend. He’d obviously done a good job as a boy-toy lover. But could she successfully pretend to be his girlfriend?

She’d only spoken to him briefly the other night and while he’d seemed quite nice, she didn’t know anything about him except that he was twenty-four, and an out-of-work actor. They would have to exchange quite a few more details about each other and each others’ families on the drive from here to Elizabeth Bay, then invent a more suitably successful career for him, because Amber was sure to give her and her “boyfriend” the third degree.

Josie began to worry about that third degree. What if they slipped up and Amber twigged that their relationship was a charade? Even worse, what if someone there recognized Beau from another of his escorting jobs? When she thought about it, the idea was fraught with flaws and possible failings. Whatever had possessed her to agree to Kay’s urgings?

Was it too late to cancel?

People probably canceled at the last minute all the time. But Kay was going to call her in the morning to see how things went. Having to tell her she’d pulled out was not on.

No, it was all systems go and there was no point in worrying about it anymore. In less than three hours, she’d be arriving at her class reunion on Beau Grainger’s arm, and that was that.

Feeling better for her self-lecture, Josie leaned forward through the vanilla-scented bubbles and reached for the magazine resting on the side of the tub. It was one of those glossy women’s magazines which featured sex on every second page, alongside pictures of skinny models in unflattering poses.

Lisa had given this one to her last Wednesday night. Both Josie’s roommates were addicted to the things, especially the advice columns, which had letters from girls with even more pathetic relationships than they had. They claimed reading about other females’ miseries and mistakes made them feel better. However, Josie could really identify with that this week and was flipping over the pages to find the advice column first when her eyes were caught by the sealed section in the middle—that had been torn open!

STARTLING RESULTS OF OUR RECENT SEX SURVEY, the banner headline screamed. Then underneath, SEE WHAT IT IS WOMEN REALLY WANT!

Josie recalled Lisa mentioning that particular article when she’d handed over the magazine. Of course, men and sex were Lisa and Deb’s staple subjects of conversation, especially over drinks.

“Talk about hot stuff!” Lisa had exclaimed after downing her third cocktail. “But it makes you think. I mean…there are women out there actually getting that kind of thing. Amazing! I wish I could find a guy who’d deliver half of what’s listed in that survey.”

“Half!” Deb had crowed. “I’d settle for a quarter!”

Josie’s curiosity had been aroused at the time and she’d meant to read the article when she got home that night. But she’d just been too tired. She and Kay had been working extra hard all week, preparing then painting the walls of the apartment. By the time she’d arrived home after spending a couple of hours in a bar with her friends, she’d just collapsed into bed. Not even reading about unbelievably hot sex would have kept her awake.

But what better subject to get her mind off worrying about tonight? Josie had always enjoyed reading about sex. As a teenager, she’d devoured every sexy book she could find, living in avid anticipation of experiencing the joy of sex for real. Since reality hadn’t delivered any actual joy so far, Josie figured she could at least have some vicarious pleasure via the pen, as opposed to the sword, so to speak!

Smiling wryly at her clever pun, Josie lifted her elbows onto the sides of the tub, leaned her head carefully back onto the folded towel she’d placed there earlier, and started to read.

The whole article, she quickly realized, was devoted to a series of top ten lists. They started off pretty tamely, the first list being the top ten sexiest guys in the world, followed by the top ten sexiest guys in Australia. All quite predictable, filled with well-known movie stars, singers and sportsmen.

None set Josie’s heart a-thudding. She had her own idea of what the sexiest guy in the world would be like for her and it had nothing to do with those high-profile men. Her dream man was far more accessible. Far more real. He didn’t have to be drop-dead handsome, just reasonably attractive, with a well-built body, a well-stoked libido and a fertile imagination.