Ryan trudged up to the top of the five-floor walk-up and knocked on Camille’s door. She heard a “One second,” and leaned against the doorframe to wait. One second in Camille time could be a literal second or five minutes. There was really no telling which it would be. Ryan felt bad for making Camille answer it in the first place, but the key to the apartment came branded with a “Duplication Prohibited,” probably because the landlord was too cheap to change the locks after tenants left. Ryan knew a few places that would copy it anyway, but Camille had never offered her a key, and Ryan felt weird asking, even though she’d unfortunately spent a good bit of time on multiple occasions waiting in the hall for Camille to come home.

Ryan glanced around the rundown hallway. The decrepit building was in an even more decrepit neighborhood. It seemed like half the block was abandoned or inhabited by squatters. Used syringes ended up nestled in the deep cracks in the sidewalks, and police sirens were its version of white noise. When Ben had offered to have the car take her home, Ryan had tried to hide her panic. Because there was no way she could let a rich hockey player know she stayed here, let alone the truth: She couldn’t even afford a place like this. The only thing that separated her from the homeless drifters was that she was good at making friends.

The door swung open a minute later, and Camille stood back to let Ryan enter. “You’re home early,” she said over her shoulder as she went back to the art project she had spread out all over the floor.

After dropping her bag on the couch, Ryan walked into the kitchen. “Quit a job and found a new one all in the same night,” she said before opening the small refrigerator and pulling out a bottle of water.

“How does something like that happen exactly?”

“You tell off a customer for touching you and then let a guy think you’re an escort,” Ryan replied as she unscrewed the cap and took a long drink. She returned to the living room in time to see Camille drop a sponge covered in red paint onto her canvas and drag her eyes up to meet Ryan’s.

“I’m not even sure what to ask you to explain first.”

Ryan shrugged. “We could go with neither. Because one I don’t want to talk about, and the other one I’m legally bound not to talk about.” Ryan knew that wasn’t completely true since she hadn’t signed the NDA yet and Ben had said she could let a friend in on some of the details.

“That makes me even more worried, which I didn’t think was possible. So thanks for that.”

To her credit, Camille really did look worried. Not that Ryan wouldn’t have expected her to be, but it was still always a shock when someone showed concern for her well-being, let alone when it happened twice in one night. Camille had been nice enough to let Ryan crash with her when Ryan had found herself without a place to go, but their friendship was mostly superficial—evolving mainly around a shared love of The Walking Dead and sleeping until noon.

Ryan gave her a brief—and vague—rundown of the evening’s events. She hadn’t revealed Ben’s name, as promised, but she couldn’t let Camille worry about her needlessly. She also left out the part about her horny self being unable to resist blurting out that she thought she and Ben should kiss. She’d had to cover it up with some bullshit about testing chemistry. “It’s cool. The guy I’m working for seems nice and on the up-and-up. No touching required, which is more than I can say for the hovel Paul’s running. So no need to worry.”

“What’s the guy’s name?” Camille asked.

“I can’t say, actually.”

Camille sighed. “That’s a really bad sign.”

Ryan plopped down on the couch, which doubled as her bed. “It’s not for a creepy reason. He’s . . . well known. So I promised to keep it a secret.”

“Will it also be a secret when he lures you into his underground sex dungeon and shackles you to a Saint Andrew’s Cross?”

“Probably,” Ryan deadpanned. She laughed at Camille’s wide-eyed stare. “Stop worrying. I’ve managed to keep myself alive this long. I can keep the streak going. Plus, he’s fine with me telling someone where I’m staying, so if I go missing, you’ll know where to tell the cops to look for my body. You have quite an imagination by the way. Been watching a lot of Fifty Shades?”

Camille picked up her sponge and went back to dabbing her canvas. “I used to date someone who was into BDSM.”

Ryan observed her friend for a few seconds. “You lead a very interesting life.”

Snorting, Camille said, “I’m not the one who decided to become an escort on a whim.”

“True that.” Ryan watched Camille paint—if what she was doing could be called that—for a few minutes before she stretched and stood. “I’m going to take a shower.”

“’Kay” was all she got in reply.

Ryan went over to the hall closet she used to store her stuff and grabbed her pajamas then headed into the bathroom. She turned on the spray and let the water heat up for a minute before climbing in and allowing the water to sluice the day from her skin. As she scrubbed herself with her loofah, she imagined she was also scrubbing her mind free of Daisy’s. There wasn’t an ounce of regret at how that whole debacle had gone down. Especially since it had led her to meeting Ben.

Ben.

Now there was a happy thought. Ryan conjured a mental image of him: his light-brown skin punctuated by perfect dimples when he gave her one of his full smiles. His tall, broad frame that was no doubt loaded with muscle that was for use more than show. She couldn’t help but think about how strong he must be.

A warm feeling pooled low in her abdomen and made her clit throb with arousal as she pictured him naked, hovering over her in bed, using his powerful thighs to thrust into her as she writhed beneath him. Ryan let her hand slide down her body and into the crease between her legs. She massaged her clit, rubbing small circles over it as she imagined the V of Ben’s abs against her while he fucked her.

Ryan’s other hand toyed with one of her nipples, which she pretended was Ben’s tongue flicking the hardened nub. Her breath was coming in pants as she let her finger glide over her clit more quickly. Her mental Ben had a huge cock that filled her perfectly, the mushroom tip hitting her spot in a way that would make her scream in ecstasy. His callused, rough hands would roam all over her body, leaving her skin feeling as though it was on fire. Then he would lean down and bite her earlobe, pulling on it as he told her to come for him.

She could almost hear his deep, sexy voice as he said the words, and it was all she needed to make herself shatter, her knees quaking as they fought not to buckle. Her shoulders hunched in as her core spasmed with her release. Leaning her forehead against the tiled wall, she fought to get her breathing under control.

The fantasy had been vivid, the orgasm intense. Ryan wasn’t sure of the last time she’d been so turned on. It left her feeling slightly uneasy because as much as she wanted Ben—and she definitely wanted him—sex wasn’t supposed to be part of the equation. Which could possibly be good. Because if the real thing was anything like her imagination, she may find herself addicted to Ben. Ryan finished rinsing herself and shut off the water, thinking there were worse things to be addicted to.

* * *

“I can’t fucking believe you bailed on us,” Gabe yelled through the phone as soon as the call connected.

Ben knew he’d receive a greeting like that, which is why he’d waited until the next morning to call his friend. “Hello to you too.”

“We didn’t even get to meet the escort you hired,” Gabe continued as if Ben hadn’t spoken. “We could’ve vetted her for you.”

“Vetted? Did you join the FBI since we last talked?”

“Fuck you, dude. Don’t talk shit just because my vocabulary is better than yours.”

“I don’t need you to ‘vet’ anyone. I’m perfectly capable of choosing my own escort.”

“Yeah, we’ll see about that,” Gabe muttered. “What’s her name?”

“Ryan.”

There was an uncharacteristic silence on the other line before Gabe found his voice. “Uh, Ben, man, I know you wanted to get your family to leave you alone, but I’m not sure hiring a male escort was the way to go.”

Ben couldn’t hold in the cackle that burst out of him. “You asshole. Ryan can be a girl’s name too.”

“Yeah, it can be. But just to clarify, is it in this case?”

“Yes,” Ben said, impatience evident in his tone.

“Oh. Okay, cool. I mean, it would’ve been cool the other way too. It’s just not . . . you know . . . you never—”

“For Christ’s sake, please stop talking. I’m not coming out to you.”

“I know that. But if you were, I’m saying it would be okay.”

Ben rubbed a hand over his forehead. “Gabe, I’m not gay. I hired a female escort named Ryan. Can we change the subject now?”

“No. What the hell else would we talk about besides your new escort?”

“I meant . . . never mind. What do you want to know about her?”

“Everything.”

Ben snorted and then proceeded to recap his evening with Ryan.

“So she was cool about the NDA?” Gabe asked. “Because you definitely can’t let word get out about this.”

“You didn’t seem so concerned about that when you were attempting to kidnap me and drag me to a strip club.”

“What can I say? I’m impulsive.”

“No shit,” Ben retorted. “But yeah, she was cool about it. Said she was used to having to keep things confidential.”

“You should do a background check,” Gabe said.

“Why?”

“She could be a murderer. Or a bank robber. Or a counterfeiter.” Gabe’s voice rose in excitement with each new crime he listed.

“Well, I’m not a bank or the Franklin Mint, so I think I’m safe.”

“What if she’s a murderer?” Gabe asked.

“She’s barely over five feet tall. I’m not worried.”

“A switchblade knows no height restrictions.”

Ben felt his eyes crinkle. “Did that even make sense in your head?”

“Yup.”

“Okay then.”

“So she’s cool?” Gabe said.

“Yeah. She reminds me a lot of you, actually.”

“Because she’s a dude?”

Ben laughed. “Fuck off.”

“When are you hanging out with her again?” Gabe asked.

“I said I’d call her today about meeting up to sign the NDA. But I need to call my lawyer first to have him write one up.”

“Yeah, yeah, okay, but when are you hanging out again so you can get to know each other better?”

Ben’s brow furrowed. “I don’t know.”

“Dude, you gotta get to know her. This isn’t like my buddy who brought the girl to one party. You’re going to be with this . . Ryan for days, and your mom will be sniffing around her like a bloodhound. If she doesn’t think the two of you are serious, it’ll be even worse than if you’d gone alone.”

“Shit.” Ben knew that was the truth. If he went to the wedding alone, his mom would be on his ass about finding a nice girl to settle down with. But if he showed up with someone who seemed like a stranger, she’d add on a few jabs about him having commitment issues and whatever other shit she picked up from the gaggle of gossip gremlins she called friends. “You’re right.”

“I usually am.”

“You’re also a dick.”

“Speaking of that . . . you’re a hundred percent sure Ryan doesn’t have one, right?”

“Goodbye, Gabriel.”

“I’m just asking—”

Ben hung up before he heard the rest of Gabe’s sentence. But he couldn’t resist the rumble of laughter that passed through him. Despite his antics, Gabe had made a good point. Ben would need to get to know Ryan better if they were going to fool his family. He hoped Ryan would be up for it. With only one way to find out, he scrolled to her number.