S he wasn't beautiful, but she was pretty and the blushes that kept coloring her cheeks were pretty damn cute .

One thing was certain – she wasn't what I'd been expecting .

But then again, I wasn't sure what I'd been expecting. When a woman contacted me out of the blue about an article she wanted to do with Jake King, the King of Multiple Orgasms – shit, what a name – I'd been tempted to say no .

But I'd been tempted to say no to a lot of things in the past decade of my life, and I hadn't. All for one reason. If it could serve as a mean to an end, then I wasn't saying no .

And while I wasn't sure if somebody who wrote for a woman's magazine like Coterie was considered a reporter or a writer – was there a difference? – one thing was certain. Anybody who worked for an outfit that big would have connections. I'd spent my entire adult life cultivating any and every connection I could get .

Why stop now ?

I'd been right though .

The woman who'd requested the interview was Gina Goddard, one of Coterie's top writers .

The woman sitting next to me had nervously given me her name – Michelle .

They were two different people. There was no doubt in my mind. Different styles, different approaches. I didn't even have to ask. Gina Goddard wasn't a woman who'd blush about asking a man how he'd gotten his start at fucking women for money .

The woman next to me with her pretty blushes and her uncertain glances was a different matter entirely. And those blushes were proving to be far more enticing than I'd imagined possible, and I wanted to see just how far down they went .

Finally figuring out the right way to approach all of that, I studied the interior of the tequila bar where we'd agreed to meet and decided that the ideal way to handle this – her – was to tell her we needed more privacy .

That plan got dashed to all hell less than five seconds after I hatched it .

The last thing I needed was to see a movie star come in .

No, the last thing I needed was to get intrigued by the cute little redhead conducting the interview. But that was what happened. And it had been followed by the second to the last thing I needed to happen – the entrance of a movie star followed by paparazzi .

Now I was stuck in this damn bar with a writer, paparazzi, and the problem of how to get out. I never should have agreed to this damn interview. Women didn't need to read articles on how to achieve multiple orgasms. They needed a really good vibrator, or better yet, a really good partner .

That's where I came in .

With the right dollar amount, I would give a woman as many orgasms as she wanted .

Sometimes, I didn't even need the dollars thrown in there .

I dated, had sex off the job. A busman's holiday, maybe. I didn't need to get paid to get off. It was just...what I did. It was what I was good at. And it was a means to an end .

Michelle wasn't exactly the sort of woman I would have sought out on my own, but having her dropped into my life was...well, who turned down such a sweet surprise ?

Granted, there was nothing about sitting there with Michelle that was helping me accomplish that end I'd set for myself a long time ago, teasing and flirting with the sexy redhead who had actually come out in the freezing weather wearing a strapless dress under a coat that had almost convinced me she wasn't the woman I was looking for. Right up until she shrugged out of the coat to reveal that dress, and that body .

All those curves had been perched on a pair of fuck-me heels, done in a shade of blistering red – the high heels sans pantyhose and a pink miniskirt. It was possible there could be a woman wearing that same get-up but nobody else but the woman I needed to meet would be likely to be alone as she approached the seat my bartender buddy always kept open for me on the nights I told him I had a meet .

Now, here I was with a woman I wouldn't mind being alone with, but the one thing I didn't have time for was convincing her of that – not when the camera flashes were getting as consistent as lightning during a summer thunderstorm .

Michelle crossed her legs, murmuring something under her breath, and I was acutely aware of the way one shoe dangled off the tip of her toes .

I had to get the hell out of here, or I wouldn't care enough to do it later .

Buck, my faithful bartender sidekick, glanced my way and I gestured toward her glass, already knowing how much the wine would cost – and calculating how much of a tip I should leave to cover his trouble .

He glanced at Michelle, but gave a single nod .

I had the money out before he even reached me and took the pen from the little leather folder as he laid it on the counter .

Scrawling her a note, I left the bills, making sure I took the business card she'd fished out of her purse earlier .

I hadn't seen the last of Miz Michelle .

But I wasn't seeing her here .

That was for certain .

* * *

B ack at my apartment, simple, sparse and spartan, I looked up Miz Michelle Nestor .

I had more interest in her rather than finding out why she'd been at the restaurant rather than Gina, but I did take a few minutes to research the popular writer from the women's magazine .

Her accident had actually made a couple of the local news outlets, so it was pretty easy to understand why she had somebody else filling in for her .

Finding out information about Michelle wasn't quite so easy .

She had a Facebook page, but it was locked down tight .

She had a LinkedIn page, but it was locked down even tighter .

No Twitter that I could see .

The only online presence that held any really hint of her was a brief online website for freelancers, and all I could see from that without having an account was a headshot and a few reviews and references .

"You're not making this easy are you, sweetheart ?"

I studied the headshot, taking in the smile that was both polite and warm, but distant somehow. I didn't like it .

It wasn't really her .

"I guess I'm not going to find out much about you online, am I, sugar?" I touched a finger to the curve of her cheek and leaned back, head cocked as I continued to ponder her face .

Plucking the card from the pocket of my jeans, I eyed her email, then opened the email app on my laptop .

"I wonder if I can make you blush from just a message ."

* * *

A n hour later, I locked the door behind me, leaving the warmth of the apartment behind yet again. I had an appointment in Manhattan at a boutique hotel where anonymity was just as much a selling point as the lush, 1920s art-deco style rooms .

My client was waiting for me, lying in bed naked, sipping from a glass of wine and checking her email .

"Can't you take a night off, darlin'?" I asked .

She glanced at me. "I am. That's why I'm here...darling." She gave me a slow smile and dropped the phone on the nightstand before taking a sip of her wine, smiling at me over the rim as she swallowed .

Alicia was one of my favorite clients. I'd almost even call her a friend, if I allowed myself to have friends .

But friends weren't exactly something I liked to put my trust in. I'd done that before, and it had fucked me over good and proper. I wouldn't let myself get in that position again .

Still, I liked Alicia .

She was easy to talk with, easy to please, she was a good bed partner, and she paid well .

What wasn't to like ?

"Are you in the mood for anything specific?" I asked, moving to the foot of the bed .

"Just you." She gave another smile and crooked her finger at me .

I approached, and she offered me her glass of wine. I put it on the table for her instead of drinking and bent down low, kissing her soft lips. She tasted of the chardonnay she'd been drinking, and I had a brief moment to wonder...how would the zinfandel Michelle had been drinking taste on her lips ?

Then I jerked my attention back to the job .

Alicia moaned as I covered her body with mine, deliberately dragging my chest against her breasts so that the cotton of my sweater rubbed over her nipples .

"I changed my mind," she said against my lips. "I do want something specific. Hard and fast ."

"As you wish ."

I flipped her over onto her belly and brought her up onto her knees. As she braced herself on her palms, I pulled a rubber from my pocket – it would be the first of three we'd use, although I carried a couple extra just in case .

By the time she had herself steadied on her hands and knees, I had my cock sheathed in latex, and I grabbed her hips again, hauling her back and half lifting her slim form. I had another flash – rounder hips, because Michelle was a powerhouse of curves and lines, her pale flesh glowing like a pearl against my darker, rougher skin .

Groaning, I thrust deep .

Alicia cried out my name, and I forced myself to think, to focus. "Rough?" I asked .

"Please...yes. Hell, yes ."

I caught the thick weight of her hair in my hand and made a rope of it, pulling her back until her spine arched as I rode her. "Come for me, you sexy little bitch," I said as I palmed her breast with my free hand, tweaking her nipple .

Alicia whimpered and pushed against me, butt and breast, and I shoved all thoughts of everything else from my mind .

After all, I had a reputation to uphold .