Fauxmance (Showmance #2)(52)

“Some clients I’ve stayed in touch with, but others, well, it was for the best that we parted ways.”

“Why was it for the best?”

He seemed reluctant to answer, then said, “Those clients, you could say they were the ones I had the most intense connections with.”

“Like the woman in the painting over your bed?”

Julian nodded. “Yes, like the woman in the painting.”

“But…I don’t want to lose you as a friend.”

His expression softened. “Then you need to seriously consider if this is something you want to do.” I frowned. Julian must’ve seen the conflict on my face because he continued to speak. “You’ve said yourself you’ve had limited experience with sex. When you’re with someone in that way, there are emotions involved. Sometimes people try to pretend there aren’t, but they’re only fooling themselves. Staying friends with someone you’ve had a sexual relationship with can be painful for both parties, particularly when one person moves on to someone new…” his words trailed off, his meaning sinking in.

He thought I’d be brokenhearted, and seeing the person you long for, trying to be friends, would certainly be an unbearable experience. Was I prepared to give him up if it meant gaining experience that could help forge a life for myself, one where I actually had a family of my own one day and wasn’t cursed to be alone forever?

I was almost thirty years old. I couldn’t keep living like a hermit, afraid of human interaction. Nor could I continue pretending to be Elodie. As much of a comfort as she was, it wasn’t healthy.

Being with Julian had to be worth the risk. Heartache faded eventually, right? Even if it hurt to lose him, I wouldn’t feel that way forever.

I steeled myself and met his gaze. “I understand the rules, and I’m prepared for the possibility that we won’t be able to stay friends.”

Something about my response seemed to pain him. When he replied, his expression was grave. “In that case, I have just one more question to ask you.”

“And that is…?”

He leaned forward, fiddled with the collar of my blouse and levelled his sexy, hazel eyes on me. The hint of a smirk graced his lips when he spoke, like we were sharing an intimate secret. “When would you like to begin?”





Chapter Fourteen





Julian





Ellen Grant was now my client.

The last time I’d been so fixated on someone was two years ago, when I’d had a brief but intense affair with the actress, Alicia Davidson. I met her through Rose, who was choreographing the West End musical Alicia was headlining. I’d pursued her relentlessly, and she resisted my charms for a while. From the very beginning, she made it known that I wasn’t her type. She wanted someone nice, someone reliable, someone whose profession didn’t fall into a grey area of legality.

I thought she was “the one”. I thought at long last I was going to give up my work as an escort, get a normal job and be monogamous to a single woman. Then she cast me aside like yesterday’s newspaper. I soon learned that Alicia wasn’t “the one”. Nobody was. They were all just “the one” for a while until the next one came along.

This was why I wasn’t so concerned about being intimate with Ellen. My obsession with her would fade, just like it did with all the others.

At first, I’d had misgivings. She knew the real me, knew where I lived. I’d always kept my personal life and my work life separate. It was a rule I set for myself a long time ago, and hence another reason why I needed a few days to consider things.

But then, the more I thought on it, the more it made sense. Ellen needed experience and I was a fine candidate for the job. I would immerse myself in our relationship, teach her that sensuality was a vital part of the human experience, then set her free into a world of new possibilities.

It had always been my calling.

Some people were meant to find one person and settle down. I was meant to help ducklings learn how to fly.

I sat at the hotel bar, waiting for Ellen. We’d arranged to meet at 7:00 pm and it was now 7:06 pm. I wondered if she’d gotten cold feet. After we discussed all the ins and outs of the arrangement, my fee and the rest of the rules, she’d become somewhat withdrawn. All of that stuff tended to negate the sexy factor, but it was a necessary evil.

I decided I’d give her until 7:30 pm and if she didn’t show I’d leave.

“Would you like another sparkling water?” the bartender asked, seeing I’d drained my glass.

I looked at my watch. 7:17 pm. “No, I’m good for now.”

“Hey,” a soft, unsure voice cut in.

She’d finally arrived, and she was all Ellen, not a hint of Elodie in sight. She wore a sensible, navy-blue dress, black tights, and kitten heels. Her hair was in a loose bun, her makeup light. My eyes focused on the peach gloss coating her lips. Aside from her eyes, they were her most entrancing feature.

“Hello, stranger.” I stood to kiss her cheek, just shy of her mouth. She flushed in a way that satisfied my inner possessive streak. “Can I get you anything to drink?” I went on, helping her onto a stool.

She sat and looked at the bar. “Um, I’ll t-take a red wine. Whatever’s good.”