Chapter 1

Samson

The inside of my strip club didn’t smell cheap. Light perfume, walnut, a hint of musk no matter the time of night or day.

I strode through the carpeted lobby and yawned, my gaze on my cell as I worked on scheduling meetings. My head was still pounding from the after effects of last night’s party: a private Victoria’s Secret affair at the Four Seasons, blonde models in lingerie, and champagne on tap.

Boring. All so fucking boring.

And I had an entire day of business meetings to chase it with. Like following Stroh rum with, well, more Stroh rum. Gag.

I stowed my phone, looked up for Phillipe, my assistant, and lost my breath.

Holy shit.

The woman, nah, fuggit, the woman – she deserved the inflection – hovered outside the thick doors that led to the stage and the scantily clad girls beyond.

Hazel cat-shaped eyes, a petite button nose, and lips that begged for a kiss – dimpled at the bottom. She opened that mouth, then closed it again with a light click of her teeth. Young. This one was young. Twenty-one, tops.

“What’s a girl like you doing in a place like this? You here for an audition?” I sauntered across the space that separated us, head tilted to one side, absorbing the sight of her.

Tight skinny jeans, perky tits, tall, slender body. She’d make a fabulous stripper but that chain around her throat said old money, and the dropped jaw told me no before she got it out.

“No!” Right on cue, she folded her arms across that ample chest. “No, I’m here looking for someone.”

“For someone,” I said, and halted in front of her, inches from her forearms.

She trembled ever so slightly – the usual reaction I got around here. Around anywhere.

My height, coupled with my broad shoulders and jaw line, made women melt. I had my pick of them all, strippers, too, but it bored me. There wasn’t a chase to be had. Nothing about an easy lay excited me.

The woman swallowed and came back to herself, and brushed silky, raven hair behind her ear. “Yes, I’m in need of assistance. I – look, I – are you one of them?”

I arched an eyebrow. “One of who?”

“You know… them.”

“No, but I like where this is going. I love games,” I said. “I’ll guess. You’re looking for…” I cast an eye over her clothes, the loose blouse, a smudge of yellow on the hem. “A hot dog vender? A samurai warrior? I’m not Tom Cruise in Mission Impossible, though I’ve been told I look like him.”

She snorted a laugh.

“I can’t help it.” I ran fingers through my neatly cut hair, swept to one side, the other shaved. “I was born this way. You know, unlike those Maybelline models.”

“Do you always tell lame jokes?” The corners of her lips twitched. “They call them dad jokes, right?”

“I’m not a daddy,” I replied. “Unless you want me to be.”

Her cherubic cheeks went pink as a cotton candy. As her pussy lips undoubtedly would be.

“What do you need, sweetheart?” I asked and placed a hand on her shoulder. “Like I said, this is hardly the place for a woman like you.”

Past those wooden doors behind the reception desk, smoke curled through the air – blue, pink, whatever color the flashing lights made it – and the low throb of music pulsed while women swayed and turned, removing their clothes. Hungry wolves watching, paying whatever they had to make it last a little longer, make the girls grind a little harder.

She took a couple steps back, put distance between us, then shook her head as if to clear it. “My name’s Blair, not sweetheart,” she said, and lifted her chin. The hazel eyes which had been clouded over cleared. That desire cleared right out.

Yeah, desire. Always desire when I was around. “Blair,” I said. “It’s nice to meet you.” I extended a hand.

She took it and shook once, her dainty fingers gripping hard. I pictured them around my cock, smoothing over my skin, and those cushion lips wrapped around the tip. Delicious, but she won’t answer to sweetheart – finally, a woman who intrigued me.

“Blair,” I said, and let go. “You’ve got me hooked. What’s the mystery? You regretting the decision to come here?”

“No,” she snapped – not angrily, just with determination. A muscle twitched in her cheek. “I’m just taking it all in.” She gestured to the walls, the images of women in various stages of undress in gilt frames. “It’s not what I expected.”

“What did you expect?”

“More men,” she said.

“They’re through there,” I replied, pointing to the paneled walnut doors. No windows. They liked their privacy. “All of it’s happening in there. Do you want to go in?”

“No, thank you,” Blair replied, curtly.

“You sure? You might like it.” I laughed and waved away the comment. “I’m kidding, of course. Blair, you need something from me, don’t you? Cut the crap and tell me who you’re looking for.”

Blair inhaled sharply, then drew a card out of her pocket, cream and purple print, then handed it over. “My friend gave me this. She told me to come here if I wanted to hire one of you. I – she said it would be in the building with the flashing girl on the front.”

I turned the card over in my fingers, touched the sharp edges, and barely restrained my shock.

Big Dick’s Escort Service.

Damn, wasn’t that a name to remember? But what did a beautiful woman like this want with an escort? The plot thickens. Sexy Blair had pulled in at the wrong address. My strip club didn’t do happy endings, and I certainly didn’t hire male hookers.

Poor chick – she’d found the flashing girl on the front of the building, but it was still the wrong one. Christ, I’d have to check my branding if an escort service had used the same signage out front.

“Are you Dick?” Blair asked. Her lips tasted the word dick, and the one in my pants stirred.

“No, I’m not Dick.” I could tell her that she’d gotten the wrong address, but then she’d leave and I wouldn’t hear the end of this story. That, and she’d actually go through with hiring a god damn hooker.

“Then could you take me to him? To Dick?”

I could take you to dick, all right. All fucking night long I’d take you to dick. “No. Dick’s checked out. Listen, you know you’re fucking delicious, right?”

“What?” Blair jerked back.

“Ah, don’t do that. I’m not being an asshole, just stating the fact. It’s what I do. You’re gorgeous. I can’t imagine you’d have trouble finding someone to give you a good dicking.”

“Christ,” she said, placing a hand to her slender, pale throat. “Christ. A dicking. You sure know how to talk to a girl.”

“A spade is a spade. A dick is a dick. And you’re looking for an escort. I’d say the language is warranted.”

“I don’t want a dicking.” Her lips twitched again, almost as if she wanted to laugh. “I want to hire someone to be my fiancé for Christmas weekend. It’ll be a one weekend deal. No sex, just acting, and I’ll pay well. As much as I have.”

Well, damn, that’s interesting. “A fake fiancé for Christmas? What for?”

She shifted from one foot to the other, her kitten heels digging into the carpet. “It’s complicated. I’d rather discuss it with Dick or my chosen, uh, my chosen escort.”

“Do you want me?” I asked and sucked my bottom lip, real slow, dragging my teeth across it. It was the single movement that dropped panties so hard they shook the earth when they hit the floor. The only ‘move’ in my repertoire.

Blair narrowed her eyes at me. “Can you act?”

Apparently, I’d just found the one woman impervious to my ‘move.’ That didn’t work for me.

“I’ll do whatever you need me to. I need more information, or I won’t be much use. Why for Christmas weekend?”

Blair looked left and right at the empty entrance hall and the exit. It was early still and most of the regulars had filtered in way earlier. This was as private as it would get without me giving the game away and pulling her into my office for a chat.

“I’m quitting school,” she said. “I don’t want my mother to know, and the only way she’ll let me drop out is if I’ve got prospects.”

“Prospects in the form of a husband?”

“Exactly. It’s either law school or a fiancé.”

“And you don’t want either?”

“No,” she replied. “I want to be an artist, but that’s beside the point. I need someone to fake it, and I’ll pay you half of my tuition from Harvard to make it happen. Half of the tuition for this year, I mean. Do you agree?” It came out in a rush.

I fingered my chin, and the stubble rasped beneath my fingertips. “Interesting,” I said and considered her again.

“What?” That chin lifted even higher. “Look, I came to find someone who can help me, and if you can’t, I’m wasting my time here. You’re either in or you’re out. Or you could, uh, take me to another guy who’ll be in.”

And here I’d been thinking she was timid. She was anything but. One problem: I was the one who doled out orders and commands around here. “And what will you do if I say no?”

“Like I said, I’ll find someone else,” she said, in that clear, melodic voice. “Simple.”

I withheld mirth. I wasn’t laughing at her, just at this strange situation.

A beautiful woman in a strip club, looking for an escort instead, and having stumbled upon me. In truth, I probably didn’t have time for this. I had several clubs to run, but lately life had been so… boring.

Endless streams of auditions, meetings, and women who threw themselves at me willfully. They wanted me and part of it was the money, part of it was my status, the other part were the rumors about the size of my dick.

Boring. So fucking boring.

“Look, are you going to answer me or not? I’ll find someone else,” she said.

“No, you won’t,” I replied. No one else will touch her.

“Then you’ll do it?” Her eyes widened, a flicker of hope, and she inhaled, pressing those sumptuous breasts outward.

“You’ve come to the right place,” I said. “Christmas is in two days, Blair. We’ll have to discuss this in more detail before we start.”

“Yes.” She took a step toward me, not stumbling but totally sure. I liked that. Sure of herself, sure of her decision. She drew another card out of her pocket; this one had been scribbled on in looping handwriting. “This is my number. You’ll meet me at my dorm room tomorrow at 12 p.m. sharp.”

Another command. Interesting. I played along, smiling. “Your dorm room. That should be fun.” I stepped in real close, close enough to catch the scent of her hair – coconut – and scraped my finger down the front of her throat.

“No,” she said, and gulped. Her gaze chased over my face, rested on my lips for a second. “No, it’s not going to be fun. This is all business. You’re hired to play a part, and that’s it. There won’t be any of the other stuff.”

“Sex,” I said, and ran my finger from her throat down to her collar bone, lower, lower, a little lower. Her skin prickled beneath my touch. “That stuff?”

“None of that,” she breathed, and scrambled back a step, a blush creeping up her throat. “J-just a business meeting. All right? All right. Thanks for your time. I’ll see you tomorrow.” Blair skedaddled for the door, her tight ass swaying from side to side.

She didn’t walk like any other woman I’d met. There were all types – stripper walks, exaggerated model walks – but Blair’s gait was sinuous, yet sure. She halted in front of the paneled front doors and looked back over her shoulder. “Wait, what’s your name? I didn’t catch your name. I – isn’t there some procedure for all of this. Do I need to sign paperwork? Or pay you upfront or –?”

“Samson Barnes,” I replied. “And let’s just say, we’re not a fan of paperwork around here. You’ll pay me when the job’s done, and I’ll tell Big Dick all about it.” She can count on that.

She frowned, and her nose screwed up, too – adorable wrinkling around the eyes. “That doesn’t sound like a – never mind. That’s fine. Don’t be late, please.”

“I always come on time,” I replied.