Chapter Two
FOR SOMETHINGthat was supposed to help Asher relax and release some tension, his encounter with the escort had left him more wound up than before. Normally, he slept well after such visits, but instead he’d been restless, convinced he could still smell the man’s scent on his pillow. Fortunately, it was Saturday, so he didn’t have to get up early for work, and he tried to get a little extra sleep to make up for his fitful night.
It was almost nine o’clock by the time he left his bedroom, still in his pajama bottoms and silk bathrobe, and he yawned and knuckled sleep out of his eyes as he entered the spacious kitchen. As expected, Martha was in there, and he smiled at her as he sat down on one of the barstools at the large island in the middle of the room.
“Morning, Martha,” he said, leaning his elbows on the island. “Is there any coffee?”
Martha tutted, then placed a mug of coffee in front of him along with a freshly baked cinnamon roll. “I’ll get your orange juice,” she told him, turning toward the large, built-in refrigerator.
He murmured his thanks as he reached for the mug. Just the scent of the steaming hot coffee was enough to boost his brain another few levels of wakefulness. He stared out the window, which didn’t have as good a view as the front of the apartment, but he wasn’t interested in what was going on outside. His mind was replaying memories of the way he and that escort had clicked so well.
He couldn’t even remember the guy’s name. He hadn’t been paying attention, more interested in the guy’s tight jeans than in his name, but now he wished he had, because for the first time, he wanted a second round.
“You didn’t happen to get that guy’s name last night, did you?” he asked, hoping Martha could fill in the blanks.
“He never gave it to me,” Martha replied. She slid a plate of crisp bacon, perfectly cooked eggs, and buttered toast toward him. “I’m going to go change the linens.”
Asher picked up a piece of bacon and nibbled it, but he wasn’t hungry. He thought about how uninhibited the escort had been, and he was more convinced than ever that the guy was a new escort. His responses had been natural and real, and Asher hadn’t experienced that kind of genuine desire from a partner in so long, he’d forgotten what it was like to feel like his touch was welcome rather than accepted because he was paying for access privileges.
His heart twisted in his chest when he thought about how the guy had looked at him like he was the sexiest man in the world. The escorts Asher hired were paid well enough to make honing their acting skills worthwhile, but Asher could tell the difference now that he’d been with someone who wasn’t putting on an act. He wasn’t sure he wanted to go back.
He pulled his phone out of the pocket of his bathrobe, his finger hovering over the escort service’s number. He wanted to see that guy again, but doing so was dangerous. He’d felt a measure of acceptance and peace last night that he’d never felt before. He’d neverlethimself feel it because he didn’t want to get attached. Now he was considering meeting up with someone who had the potential to make him form an attachment. He still wasn’t sure if that was what he wanted, but he hit dial anyway. One more night wouldn’t hurt.
When he identified himself to the receptionist, she put him straight through to his usual contact.
Carson Wells greeted him. “Good morning, Mr. Caldwell. I assume you are calling about last night?”
“Yes, I am,” Asher replied, although he wondered why Carson wasn’t surprised to hear from him. He didn’t think he’d given the escort anything to complain about!
“Please, let me offer my apologies. I tried to reach you, but my calls went to your voicemail. Hans was involved in a car accident on his way to your home, and I wasn’t able to find a replacement on short notice.” Carson was almost groveling. “Your next appointment will be gratis, of course, to make up for the inconvenience.”
“Wait, what?” Asher tried to process what he was hearing. The guy from last night hadn’t been from the escort service? Then who the fuck had he taken to his bed? Then Carson’s words sank in, and he felt a surge of concern for the real escort. “I hope he’s okay.”
“Oh, yes, it was a minor fender bender. No one was hurt, but we take the health of our employees seriously,” Carson replied. “The only gentlemen available to replace him were all men you had seen before, so that’s why I was unable to send anyone to you.”
“I understand,” Asher murmured, his mind racing as he tried to figure out who his mystery man could be. “I’m not ready to set up another appointment yet. I’ll give you a call soon, though.”
“We appreciate your patronage,” Carson said, sounding relieved. “As I said, it will be gratis. Thank you, Mr. Caldwell. Please call me anytime.”
Asher hung up and tossed his phone on the counter, lost in thought. His breakfast was getting cold, but he was even less interested in food now. He’d brought someone unknown into his house—into hisbed—and he couldn’t imagine what the fallout from that might be. What if the guy was a journalist?
Asher was faced with the unknown, and he hated that above all else. He liked having his life organized and under control, and problems like this didn’t fit in the orderly life he planned for himself.
“I’m not going to ask what happened last night,” Martha said as she returned to the kitchen. She placed two envelopes next to his barely touched plate. One was large and thick with papers, and the other was the envelope with the payment Asher had left in the foyer. The money was still inside.
“What’s this?” Asher asked as he pulled the unfamiliar manila envelope closer.
“Your visitor brought it with him. He left it on the table in the sitting room,” Martha replied before picking up his coffee cup and carrying it to the pot to refill.
Frowning, Asher opened the envelope and pulled out the contents—and an icy ball of dread formed in his stomach when he realized they were documents pertaining to one of his cases. Somehow he’d mistaken an employee from Caldwell and Monroe for an escort and taken him to bed. Visions of a sexual harassment lawsuit rose up in his mind, but the guy had had plenty of chances to say no along the way, and he hadn’t. He’d seemed quite willing, in fact.
But even if Asher couldn’t be accused of taking advantage of an employee, hehadfucked a colleague under unusual circumstances. At the very least, he owed the guy an apology… and if he were honest, he wanted to see his mystery man again, even though it was an even worse idea now than it had been when he thought the guy was an escort. He grabbed his phone and called his personal assistant. Someone at the firm knew who was low enough on the totem pole to serve as errand boy on a Friday night.
“Pam, I need you to find out who was sent to deliver the Harris case files to my house last night. I need a name and contact info as soon as possible.”
“On it, boss man.”
All he could do was wait until she got back to him with the information, but he was too antsy to sit still, so he went back to his bedroom to get dressed. By the time he shaved, brushed his teeth, and dressed in a weekend-casual outfit consisting of designer jeans and a thick cobalt blue cabled sweater over a white long-sleeved T-shirt, he had an email from Pam.
