I had given up and was planning to drop out of college. Even working two part-time jobs, I couldn’t swing my expenses. Debra had offered to borrow me the money, but I couldn’t do it; it was important I make it on my own. My then-roommate Megan had told me she worked for a company called Date Night and had offered to put in a good word for me. I had been so desperate to stay in school that I jumped at the chance. Now, three years later, I was just months away from having my degree in business and owed it all to Megan and Date Night. As Rose said, there were jerks to deal with in any job, and I considered myself lucky that it was rare in mine. Working for Date Night had allowed me to quit my other part-time jobs, which had given me more time for school. I missed Debra terribly but still hung out at the restaurant whenever I had a free day.

Looking at my watch, I blow my nose once more and force myself to stand and head toward my bedroom. After a loud sneeze, I look over my shoulder at Rose and say, “This is one night I would gladly change places if I could. I don’t know if it’s possible for makeup to tone down the Rudolph nose I’m rocking right now.” Looking at my bed longingly, I grumble, “You better tip well, Lucian Quinn, because I would much rather be in my warm bed watching a chick-flick than out with a bunch of rich snobs, drinking wine I would never be able to afford on my own.”

Chapter Two

Lia

Checking my reflection in the mirror, I groan at the disaster looking back at me. The last rounds of sneezing and nose-blowing have done a number on my makeup. I pull my compact out and once again powder my nose. My eyes look glassy from the cold medicine I took before leaving home, making me look more like a crack-whore than someone’s paid escort. This is a really bad idea. I take a hairbrush from my handbag and pull it through my wavy, blonde hair. Ugh, I desperately need a trim, but with my hair so long, I mostly keep it pulled back in a ponytail. On date nights, though, my dates prefer something a little less ‘look at me, I’m a college student.’ Shit, even the brush makes my stuffy headache. If not for the expensive books I need to purchase, I would have skipped tonight and lived on Ramen Noodles and water for a while.

I step out of my old Honda Civic and look around the parking lot. It’s probably too much to hope that some lonely man is holding up a sign with my name on it. Maybe it would have been a good idea to ask what type of car Mr. Quinn would be driving. Why had I been so damn stubborn about riding in his car? Oh, yeah, I didn’t want to be locked in his trunk, taken to some deserted road and killed. I’ve watched enough Lifetime movies to know all about ‘stranger danger’. Since there still doesn’t appear to be anyone looking for me, I decide to walk to the entrance and check with the valets. I have just stepped on the sidewalk when a sleek, black Mercedes purrs to a stop at the curb and a tall, middle-aged man steps from the driver’s side and walks around the car. I am almost even with the car when the driver opens the back door. A man inside the car closes a laptop and steps out onto the sidewalk.

Holy shit, he’s beautiful. Rose would die because he has the fuck-me style of tousled hair she just loves on men. His hair is as black as the night surrounding us and looks as if he-or someone else-has run their hands through it several times. His suit is obviously expensive and drapes perfectly over his muscular body; my heartbeat escalates as I imagine what that suit must be covering. He’s tall, powerful, and looks like something straight out of a wet dream. I’ve given myself countless orgasms picturing a man like him.

I can only blame my next action on Nyquil intoxication. Thinking only of sharing the visual pleasure of this male God with my friend, I grab my cell phone and snap his picture. When he turns to speak with his driver, I giggle as I snap another of his ass. I stand oblivious as I start texting the pictures to Rose. When I finish, I look up, still smiling to find the male God in question standing directly in front of me, a smirk pulling at the corners of his kissable mouth. “Did you get what you needed, Miss…?”

Before I think better of it, I murmur, “Adams.”

“Lia Adams?” he asks.

Surprised, I can only stare at him for a moment. “Um…yeah. How did you know?”

He takes my arm and pulls me to the side. “I’m Lucian Quinn; I believe you are here for me?”

“No way! You’re a god!” I slap my hand over my mouth in horror. Did I actually just say that aloud?

He grins, obviously highly entertained by my slip of the tongue. “Why, thank you, Miss Adams; that is very flattering. Is there any particular reason that has led you to that conclusion?”

Mortified, I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to block out those sexy lips I’m sure are still smirking at me. “I…ur, sorry about that. You’re just so beautiful.” Fuck, someone shut me up! When the silence continues, I open my eyes and stick out a hand, determined to change the subject. “Hi, I’m Lia Adams, your date for the evening.”

He leaves my hand hanging in the air for a moment longer before firmly grasping it between his. Heat races through my body at his touch; I can’t remember ever having this kind of instant response to a man before. “Lucian Quinn and it is certainly a pleasure to meet you, Miss Adams.” He continues to hold onto my hand until I finally tug it away. He studies me intently for what seems like minutes, but is probably mere seconds. To be the sole focus of that kind of intensity is disarming, at best. Was it my imagination or does he almost look shocked? Crap, do I look that bad tonight? No doubt, the answer to that question is a resounding yes.

Squaring my shoulders, I ask in my most professional voice, “Is there anything I need to know before we go inside?”

He seems to shake off whatever thoughts had taken over his mind. Amusement lurks in his eyes as if he knows I’m grappling for composure. “I don’t believe so. I assume you understand that to anyone else, you are my date for the evening and not a paid escort. I would like to keep that bit of information private.”

“Of course,” I reply. “I’ll just follow your lead.” He takes my hand and settles it into the crook of his arm. He steers us effortlessly through the crowded lobby and to the hostess stand.

A perky blonde with fake breasts beams as if she has just been handed her Christmas and birthday present at once. “Mr. Quinn, how great to see you again!”

“Good evening, Mindy. How have you been?”

As Mindy and Lucian continue to converse, I fight the urge to stick my finger down my throat and gag dramatically. It’s like watching a real-life Barbie and Ken meeting play out. Lucian seems to know he is giving Mindy the thrill of a lifetime by talking to her longer than required. I wouldn’t be surprised to see phone numbers exchanging hands. I want to poke him in the ribs and whisper that he can do better, but it’s none of my business; I am just the hired help for the evening. When Lucian puts his hand in the small of my back in an attempt to move me forward, I stumble before catching myself. A face-plant right in front of Barbie and Ken would be a freaking nightmare.