Ben had suggested that in order to get to know one another better, they move from the alley next to a strip club and into a more comfortable location. Apparently that was a worn booth in a diner down that street from Daisy’s that looked like it had been stuck in a time warp since 1950. There was a small jukebox at the end of the table that Ryan flipped through with a focus that would have rivaled a brain surgeon. She needed a moment to get her head wrapped around the fact that she’d let someone think she was an escort.

It seemed odd even to her: The girl who had only minutes before freaked out on a customer because he’d treated her like a prostitute allowed someone else to think she was an escort less than fifteen minutes later. But as she let her eyes drift over to Ben quickly, she knew there was a difference. The guy in the club had been smarmy and objectifying. Ben had been nothing but respectful and kind, and as a professional athlete—a fact she’d confirmed with a quick google search in the diner bathroom—had a lot more to lose in their deal than she did. They were helping each other—both getting something they fundamentally needed out of the deal, even if Ben didn’t realize how much he was helping her.

Ryan crossed her arms on the Formica tabletop and stared at him. One thing was for sure, the man knew how to fill out a shirt.

“Uh . . . thanks?” Ben was looking at her with his forehead creased and his eyes slightly narrowed.

Oh shit. “Did I say that out loud?”

“If by ‘that’ you mean telling me I fill out a shirt, then yes.”

Ryan nodded. Because of course she’d speak without letting her brain in on the action. “Can you forget you heard it?”

“Probably not.”

Deciding that the best way past this awkward moment was to move forward as it if it hadn’t happened, Ryan forged ahead. “So you play hockey?”

“Yeah. I play for the Denver Knights.”

Ryan nodded again. “Is it as boring to play as it is to watch?” Her eyes widened as she processed the words she’d just spoken.

But Ben—bless him—laughed.

“I’m so sorry. I have this disease called Foot-in-Mouth Syndrome. I’ve been searching tirelessly for a cure.” Ryan was only half kidding.

Ben held up a hand. “No worries. I figure if this is going to work, it’ll help if we’re honest.” He took a sip of his water. “So you don’t like hockey. Any sports you do like?”

Ryan thought for a second. “I was always good at kickball.”

“That’s not a sport.”

“Sure it is. There are leagues that play it.”

“It’s a game kids play on a playground,” Ben argued.

“Well, it seems to also be something old men with beer bellies play on the rundown field near where I used to live. They had uniforms and everything.”

“A uniform doesn’t make something a sport.”

Ryan shrugged. “It doesn’t make something not a sport either.”

Ben narrowed his eyes at her. “That doesn’t even make any sense.”

“A lot of what I say doesn’t. It’s the Foot-in-Mouth Syndrome. You’ll get used to it.”

Ben opened his mouth, but quickly closed it as the waitress set their meals down in front of them. “Thank you,” Ben said with a smile.

“No problem,” the waitress replied. “Need anything else?”

Ben looked to Ryan. “Nope,” she said. “I think we’re all set.”

The waitress walked away, and Ben and Ryan dug in. Ryan kept lifting her eyes to watch Ben eat. He was tidier than she’d expected, considering his size and profession. She figured he’d shovel food into his mouth like a bear preparing for hibernation. But instead, he methodically cut his open-faced turkey platter into neat chunks and forked them carefully into his mouth, wiping his lips with his napkin after almost every bite.

“Your commitment to your napkin is pretty impressive.” For fuck’s sake.

Ben set his fork down and looked at her. “My mom was big on manners. When I’m eating with my boys, I probably look like a caveman.”

“Speaking of your boys, what happened to them? Did you ditch them there?”

Chuckling, Ben replied, “Nah, I texted them to let them know I’d found what I was looking for, and that I’d talk to them later.”

Ryan dipped a fry in some ketchup. “Why’d you guys go there to find an escort anyway?”

“My friend Gabe said the girls who worked there were escorts.”

Ryan couldn’t help the laugh that burst out of her. “Where’d he hear that?”

Ben scratched the back of his neck. “I’m not really sure.”

“Well, he should get better information next time.”

Cocking his head slightly, Ben’s gaze assessed her. “But I found you there. So obviously there are some escorts who work there.”

Ryan struggled to keep the panic off her face as she racked her brain for an explanation. She couldn’t let him know she wasn’t one. He’d fire her, and she needed the money too badly to let that happen. “Oh . . . well, yeah . . . I mean, no. I don’t work there. I was . . . visiting.”

“You were visiting a strip club?”

“I know some of the girls who work there. I like to stop in from time to time to be supportive.” Supportive? What am I even talking about right now?

“Oh. Okay. That makes sense, I guess.”

“It does?” Ryan cleared her throat. “I mean, it does. Us girls gotta stick together.”

Ben nodded like he understood her logic, even though she was sure she’d never sounded more illogical. “So is there someone I need to contact? Someone who I have to book you through?” Ben looked uncomfortable asking the question, and it made her warm toward him even more.

“No. I freelance.”

“A freelance escort? Isn’t that kind of . . . dangerous?” Ben seemed genuinely worried. It made her want to hug him.

“I’m good at reading people. I’ve never had any trouble.”

“How do you meet clients if you don’t work though an agency?”

“Mostly through word of mouth.” The lies were rolling off her tongue easier now. She’d be worried about the clear loss of her moral compass if sitting there with Ben hadn’t felt so right. She was doing a good thing—helping someone who could easily become a friend if they weren’t on such opposite ends of the fiscal spectrum.

Ben wiped his mouth with his napkin before dropping it back in his lap and looking at her intently. “There is one thing we need to discuss.” His expression was almost grave, as if he were about to tell her he needed to murder her but he was extremely sorry about it.

Ryan took a deep breath and prepared herself for the moment she knew was imminent: where he’d say something creepy and ruin the good impression he’d initially projected.

“I’m going to need you to sign a nondisclosure agreement. I mean, I don’t want you to feel unprotected. You can check in with a friend or something and let them know the hotel we’ll be staying at or whatever. But I’ll need you to keep my name and the reason for your visit there to yourself.”

Her mouth had been poised to reply to something horrifying, but she closed it quickly when she processed his words. She knew this should probably alarm her, but it didn’t. Ryan had been taking care of herself for a long time, and against people who had a lot less to lose than a famous athlete who had an image to uphold. “Oh. Okay. I can do that.”

“I just . . . I need you to know how serious this is for me. If the media—or my family—found out I hired an escort, I’d be in deep shit. It needs to stay between the two of us.”

Ryan wanted to reassure him that she wanted it to stay between the two of them too, since she’d never done something like this before and didn’t plan on ever doing it again. But there was no way she could tell him that. “I understand. In my . . . business, I need to remain discreet, and keep things confidential with clients. No one will hear your name from me.”

He looked at her for a minute as if he were trying to gauge her sincerity. He must have been reassured because he gave her a single nod before extending his hand across the table. “So it’s a deal then?” he asked.

Smiling, she shook his hand. “Yup. It’s a deal.”

* * *

Ben was enjoying talking with Ryan. The way her every thought seemed to tumble out of her mouth reminded him of Gabe. A much more attractive Gabe. It had been a while since Ben had been out on a date with a woman who piqued his interest like this. Not that this was a date, per se. The whole paid escort thing kind of cancelled any semblance of a romantic element right out of the evening.

But he was fairly certain that he could easily fake date her in a way that would fool his family. How hard could it be to feign attraction to a beautiful woman? Not very. His only real concern was that Ryan would blurt out the entire situation immediately upon meeting his mother. “So how long have you been doing this?”

She paused with her fork halfway to her mouth. “Eating?”

Ben laughed—a genuine rumble from deep in his chest that only his closest friends could draw out of him. “No, I meant the escorting.” He said the last word quietly so as not to be overheard. He wasn’t sure how Ryan felt about her job. She seemed completely at ease with herself, but he wouldn’t blame her if she didn’t want to share her career choice with strangers in a diner.

She quickly set her fork down before picking it up again and putting the eggs in her mouth, chewing for a moment. “Oh. Um . . . let’s see. It’s almost June, so I guess that makes it . . . a year. Almost.”

Ben looked at her: the way her eyes darted around, the way she bit her lower lip, and how tense she’d become. Maybe it was a more uncomfortable topic than he’d thought.

Before he could reply, she began speaking again. “I kind of . . . stumbled into it. So I’m not completely sure when my official start date would’ve been.”

Ben nodded as he searched his brain to think of a way to salvage this conversation. “What’s your background? Do you have a big family?”

From the way her eyes shuttered, that topic was worse than the previous one.

“I just mean, well, my family is kind of intense. I wasn’t sure if I should start preparing you now or if you had experience with nosy, pretentious parents.” Ben forced out a laugh in an attempt to lighten the mood.

Ryan pushed food around on her plate for a second before lifting her eyes back to him. “My family situation is . . . complicated. I’m not sure I can relate to nosy and pretentious. But I’m highly adaptable, so it shouldn’t be a problem convincing them that I’m the real deal.”

Ben took a deep breath and released it slowly. Her gaze held an earnestness that he couldn’t help but trust. “I believe you. And I’m sorry if I came across like I doubted your abilities. You’re a professional after all,” he added with a smile.

She nodded slowly. “Yeah. Totally.”

They ate in silence for a few minutes, Ben not trusting himself any longer to steer the conversation in a positive direction. He’d wait for her to speak.

“Are you and your brother close?” she eventually asked.

Now it was his turn to be uncomfortable. He shifted slightly before answering. “No. We don’t really get along.”

“Oh. That’s weird.” She did that eye-saucer thing again which let him know she’d likely spoken without thinking.

Ben couldn’t help but laugh. “Why is it weird?”

Ryan shrugged. “You seem so . . . likable. I can’t imagine anyone not getting along with you.”

Ben felt a little warmth spread through him at the compliment. “I’m not sure how true that is—or that you’ll even still feel that way when you get to know me—but thanks.”

“Only one way to find out I guess,” she said with an endearing smile that lit up her entire face.

Ben returned the smile. “Guess so.”

Once they were both finished with their meals and Ben had settled the tab, they walked out front. Ben had arranged for an Uber while they were still inside, and now it sat idling in the parking lot. He led them toward it and opened the door for her to climb in.

She hesitated, her eyes darting back and forth between him and the car. “I’m actually not far from here. I’ll walk.”

Ben knew the look he gave her conveyed exactly how insane he thought that idea was. “It’s almost midnight. There’s no way I can let you walk home.”

Visibly bristling at his comment, she crossed her arms. “I’ve been taking care of myself for a long time. I’m fine.”

“I’m not doubting your ability to take care of yourself. But I’m not going to ditch you in a parking lot. My parents raised me better than that.”

Ryan bit her lower lip again and made no move toward the vehicle.

“I’m confused why this is such a big deal. It’s an Uber ride.” Ben wasn’t trying to be a smart-ass, which—judging from how her shoulders rose and her face hardened—was exactly how she’d taken it. He legitimately didn’t understand her resistance.

“I’m not comfortable with you knowing where I live,” she replied, an edge of steel to her voice he hadn’t heard before.

“You’re going to meet my family and pretend to be my girlfriend. If you were worried about me being a creep, you maybe shouldn’t have agreed to all of that.”

He hadn’t thought it was possible, but she managed to glare at him even harder. “I have every right to keep some parts of my life so myself. You’re buying my time, not my right to privacy.”

As Ben took in her words, he realized he couldn’t really argue with that. It wasn’t unreasonable for her to want to keep some things from him. And where she lived was probably best kept confidential in her line of work. “You’re right. I’m sorry. I imagine it’s best to keep your address secret because of what you do. But . . . can you at least take the car and I’ll call myself another one? Or let me call you a cab? Driving away with you still here makes me feel like a dickhead, and I’ll worry for the rest of the night about whether you made it home.”

Ryan seemed to mull it over for a second before she dropped her arms and released some of the tightness in her body. “Yeah. I can do that. And a cab is fine. I’m a simple girl,” she said with a smirk.

Smiling, Ben said, “Thank you.”

A slow smile crept over her own face. “You’re welcome.”

Ben opened his phone and arranged for another car to come for her. They both remained quiet while they waited until he remembered something. “I totally forgot. I need your number.”

“Oh, crap. Yeah, that would’ve made meeting up pretty difficult.” She rattled off her number to him, and he shot her a text so that she’d have his in return.

The cab arrived a few minutes later, and Ben opened the door for her. This time, she walked right over to it but stopped before climbing in. “I guess I’ll talk to you?” she asked.

“Definitely. We can figure out when would work for you to sign the contract and talk about a schedule for getting together.”

“Sounds good,” she said, but she didn’t make a move to get in the car.

Realization dawned on him. “Oh, I should give you . . . something. For your time.” He spoke softly so the driver wouldn’t overhear as he dug into his pocket to fish out his wallet.

Ryan put a hand out to stop him. “No, no, I don’t want that. The meal and calling the cab were enough.”

“Are you sure?” Ben wasn’t sure what the protocol was for a situation like this. Did he insist she take it? Should he add it onto his tab? This was already too complicated for him.

“Positive,” she answered.

Ben looked at her for a second to try to get a read on whether she meant what she said, and he didn’t see anything to prove otherwise. “Okay then.” He stuffed his wallet back in his pants and waited for her to get in the car, but she didn’t budge. “Everything okay?” he asked.

“Yeah, I think . . .” She blew out a breath. “I think we should kiss.”

“What?” Ten minutes prior she’d been telling him she didn’t trust him to know where she lived. Now she wanted to kiss him? Maybe this chick was crazier than she seemed.

“I thought that maybe we should see if we had any chemistry before we got into things like contracts. We can fake everything else, but if there’s no chemistry, we’ll never be believable.”

Ben had to admit that made a little sense. “Uh . . . okay . . . I guess. I mean, as long as you want to.”

Ryan gave him an inscrutable look.

Ben let out a deep sigh. “I don’t want it to be something you feel like you have to do. Like I said, I’m not paying you for anything . . . sexual. But if you want to, then I’m up for it.” Ben felt like a world-class moron, but couldn’t stop the words from coming. “I want it too. In case that wasn’t clear. You’re definitely—”

Ryan’s lips quirked up in a smile as she put a finger over his mouth. “Would you kiss me already?”

He moved around the door so that he was standing directly in front of her. Then he brought his hand up to cup her cheek as he lowered his mouth to hers. Applying the lightest bit of pressure, their lips brushed together sweetly.

It took mere moments for the kiss to intensify. Her lips shifted beneath his own, so he let his tongue dart out to taste her. She released a small moan that prompted him to bite down on her bottom lip before sucking it into his mouth. Then their tongues were dueling, tangling together and creating a delicious friction that made Ben’s cock stir in his pants. Her fingers rubbed over his short hair as he devoured her.

He wasn’t sure how long the kiss lasted, but eventually he heard a throat clear. Oh yeah. The driver. Ben pulled back slowly, taking in Ryan’s closed eyes and slick lips.

A second later, her eyes blinked open. She subtly wiped the back of her hand over her mouth. “Yeah, I don’t think chemistry will be a problem.”

“No, I think we have that covered.”

She offered him a shy smile before ducking her head and getting into the car.

“Have a good night, Ryan,” he said.

“You too, Ben.”

And with that, he shut the door before walking around to the driver’s window and giving him a twenty-dollar bill. If Ryan lived close enough to walk, he figured that amount would cover it. He waited until it was out of sight before turning his back and walking to where his car awaited him.

“All set, sir?” the driver asked when Ben got settled in the back seat.

“Yeah,” he replied. “I seem to be.”