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eBook Category: Erotica/Romance
eBook Description: Lilly Wilcox is an independent young woman with a traumatic past. She's desperate for money to support herself as an almost starving artist in New York City. Gabe Abendstern is a multimedia mogul's heir and only son, who despises the glitzy world his father has created. He prefers the simpler life as a cowboy on his family's cattle ranch in the beautiful wilds of Montana. When Lilly takes a one-night job posing as an escort at a millionaire's party, she finds out that Gabe is more than she can handle ... and everything she wants in a man.

eBook Publisher: Atlantic Bridge/Liquid Silver, Published: Liquid Silver Books/Atlantic Bridge, 2004
Fictionwise Release Date: August 2004

187 Reader Ratings: Great Good OK Poor

Available eBook Formats [MultiFormat - What's this?]: Adobe Acrobat (PDF) [1.3 MB], eReader (PDB) [249 KB], Palm Doc (PDB) [253 KB], Rocket/REB1100 (RB) [225 KB], Microsoft Reader (LIT) [232 KB] - PocketPC 1.0+ Compatible, Franklin eBookMan (FUB) [266 KB], hiebook (KML) [576 KB], Sony Reader (LRF) [311 KB], iSilo (PDB) [209 KB], Mobipocket (PRC) [259 KB], Kindle Compatible (MOBI) [320 KB], OEBFF Format (IMP) [338 KB]
Words: 77190
Reading time: 220-308 min.
Microsoft Reader (LIT) Format: Printing DISABLED, Read-Aloud ENABLED
Adobe Acrobat (PDF) Format:  Printing DISABLED, Read-Aloud DISABLED
All Other formats: Printing DISABLED, Read-aloud DISABLED
ISBN: 1-59578-011-4

"Lilly, stop fidgeting. Relax. Smile. C'mon ... stick your boobs out front where they belong. You gotta work for that tip."

Lilliana Wilcox straightened for a brief second, just long enough to scowl at her roommate from the mirrored wall of the express elevator. Glory opened a slender tube of bright red lipstick and carefully massaged it across the voluptuous curves of her heart shaped lips. Lilly stood in awe for a moment. She felt like a little brown duck standing beside an exotic black swan. A frightened-out-of-her-mind little duck who had no business being here in the first place.

Tonight was a one-time gig. She was completely out of her element. What the hell was she thinking to go along with Glory's plea?

Lilly groaned. "I can't believe I let you talk me into wearing this thing. I might as well be naked. I can't bend over without showing everyone my ass or having my boobs fall out. And where the hell did you get these sandals? My feet are killing me already and I've only been standing for a few minutes. I haven't even figured out how to walk in them without tipping over."

Glory pursed her glossy red lips and let her dark gaze wander up and down Lilly's body. "Yeah, doll," she snickered. "And with that cute ass and those yummy boobs of yours, you're gonna knock these boys down on their knees when you walk out of this elevator tonight. C'mon, you want that big fat tip, right? You know you want that money."

"Don't call my ass 'cute' and don't call my boobs 'yummy'. It creeps me out. I want my own studio, Glory. For that I need this money. Otherwise, I wouldn't be humiliating myself like this tonight. And remember our deal. I'm not having sex with any of them." Lilly tugged down on the back of the dress. There was a cold draft coming up back there, a definite draft.

"Stop fidgeting. And here, put some of this on." Glory handed her the tube of lipstick.

"Ah, no thanks." Lilly wiggled in the dress one more time. "That is definitely not my color. I'm wearing lip gloss."

"Wouldn't know it, but suit yourself." Glory slid the tube back into her little purse. "But I gotta tell you, men love red lips on a woman. Your job tonight is to make them happy."

"Just as long as you remember our deal." Lilly still had a few precious moments to rearrange the barely-there dress before the elevator doors opened on the penthouse suite. She tugged defiantly at the low scrap of cloth that pretended to cover her breasts. The midnight blue, hand-beaded concoction came straight from Glory's closet. It was too-short-too-tight-too-low cut and she hated it on sight. Squeezing into it had been a lesson in contortionism. Glory might enjoy her 'job' as a high-priced escort and all the skimpy clothes that went with that territory, but Lilly most decidedly did not. She missed her faded jeans and cotton sweaters, and her favorite paint-splattered smock.

"Sure thing, doll." Glory smacked her hand against Lilly's ass. "Thanks for filling in tonight, I appreciate it. Just make them happy and you'll get your money. Call me if you need me to cover for you...you know, if one of them gets to be more than you can handle. Now get ready; we're almost there. Smile."

Lilly nodded and pasted a wide smile on her lips. If her cheeks didn't crack from the prolonged effort before the night was over, she'd consider herself lucky. She might be miserable, scared out of her wits too, but she knew it wouldn't do to look it. She had to pretend she was one of the full-time ladies of Easy Knight Escorts, and not just a temporary.

When the elevator doors whisked open on the privately owned, seventy-fifth floor penthouse suite, Lilly visualized the cool twenty-five hundred bucks, plus tip, that she'd earn in exchange for tonight's torture. It would be her rental down payment on a studio flat in Soho. A dream come true and the logical next step in her career as a landscape/architectural painter.

Gabriel Abendstern downed his third Glenlivet scotch in one swallow. It wasn't nearly enough to take the edge off his boredom. The restless energy that sizzled inside him hadn't been soothed yet either. He leaned against the long, polished mahogany and brass bar and motioned to one of the bartenders for another drink.

"Make it a double this time." At this rate, he'd need the whole bottle before the night was over.

The Millionaire Men's Club of uptown New York sponsored this little party tonight in celebration of their fortieth year. Gabe had arrived late. The only reason he agreed to be here at all was as his father's stand-in while he traveled abroad on business. George Abendstern was one of the club's founding fathers. And as New York City's famous media mogul's son and heir, Gabe had a responsibility to be here and give his father's speech for him.

But not for much longer. He counted the minutes on his white-gold dress watch until he could leave without appearing rude. The speeches had been given, the awards handed out, and now the celebratory mood bubbled over to pursuits of the flesh.

The mirror that graced the wall behind the bar served him well. He sipped his scotch, nursing the rich, numbing heat that slid down his throat and warmed his gut. Scanning the room full of familiar faces, he figured at age thirty-two he was the youngest man here tonight.

All twenty of these men were his father's age, most of them married. Wives and girlfriends had been discreetly left behind. The mirror gave him a perfect view of the other men strutting and preening like peacocks around the high-priced hookers hired for late night entertainment. The women arrived by way of private elevator, dressed to seduce and made quick work of mingling. They touched, leaned and smiled their availability. They knew their jobs. Not for the first time, Gabe wondered which club member's idea it had been to hire them?

It was obvious most of these men would be wandering off for a quick fuck in one of the back bedrooms. Judging by the hungry looks they cast his way he could have any of these women, or more than one at a time if he wanted that sort of thing. Neither of which appealed to him. A quick fuck was for teenagers experimenting in the back seat of daddy's car. Or for these aging, rich peacocks who panted around the ladies with their dicks practically hanging out of their tuxedo pants--trying to prove they could still get it up and hammer away.

His attitude had changed over the past couple years. He was no longer satisfied with one-night stands. His body still craved sexual release, more strongly than ever, and he always grew hard at the sight of a beautiful woman. But now he wanted a deeper connection with a woman, a real attraction for her not only physically, but on an emotional and soul-deep level.

He wanted his soul mate.

Gabe knew these things existed. His own parents had had such a connection, until his mother's untimely death five years ago.

He smiled. Mom's warmth, compassion and joy had graced their lives and she shared it freely with everyone she knew. His younger sister, Megan, had already found and recently married the man of her dreams. She was incredibly happy. Knowing that made Gabe happy. She took after Mom in so many ways and deserved the love that her husband, Scott, showered her with.

After another long swallow of scotch, he decided that whatever his dad did here with his 'friends' during his own time was his own damned business. Was it fair to expect his father to remain faithful to a dead woman? The thought gnawed on his stomach and churned the scotch he swallowed. Perhaps that was the reason Dad chose to pass up this function and travel overseas now. If he knew these hired women would be here, did he not want any part of it?

One hopeful hooker sauntered toward Gabe now, her heavily made-up eyes determined to hold his attention. She had a pair of impossibly perfect tits and spiky red hair. He gave her a polite smile in the mirror and finished his scotch.

Miss Perfect Tits ran her long nails slowly up his back until they met the black satin collar of his tuxedo jacket. Was it the finely aged scotch he consumed so recklessly, or the soft, insistent pressure of her ample, round breasts against his shoulder that made his cock jump?

"Hey, sweetie," she cooed into his ear. "You look lonely."

Her perfume filtered through the scotch afterburn that lingered in his nose and on his tongue, promising a musky, dark sensuality. He preferred lighter, more floral perfumes on his women, or none at all. She wasn't his type, but, hell, maybe a quick fuck would do him good.

He frowned. When was the last time he had great sex with Amanda? Even after exclusively dating her for more than six months, she still insisted he wear a damned condom every time. It didn't matter that she was on the pill; the natural messiness of sex grossed her out. Especially if he spilled cum on her pristine thighs or tummy. She kept asking him about taking their relationship one step further, toward marriage. Even his father pestered him about that.

Truth was, he couldn't fathom a life with Amanda any more than he could cut off his own arm. He needed to find a good way to break it off with her. And the trouble with simply doing that was that she was the daughter of his father's best friend. He could feel the conspiracy and subtle pressure to marry Amanda. George Abendstern was getting older, and he wanted his son married, with children.

"Evenin', ma'am." Gabe slipped into the drawl he'd rebelliously adopted long ago. He spun around to face Miss Perfect Tits and leaned his elbows back on the bar.

She didn't try to hide the fact she found him attractive and ran her tongue over bright white teeth. "Mmm, you're not from around here, are you, big boy?"

"Born and raised, I'm afraid. But I don't live in this city any more than I have to. I'll be headin' home tomorrow morning."

"Yeah? And where's home?" Miss Perfect Tits dragged her red-tipped fingernail across his lapel and slipped past the buttons of his white silk shirt. When her finger touched his chest, he was surprised to find it annoying, not arousing.

He wasn't attracted to her and he couldn't fuck her no matter how much his body ached for it. "Home is a little place outside Billings, Montana."

She blinked heavily mascaraed lashes. "Montana? I've never met anyone from there. Didn't know people actually lived there. What brings you to the city?"

Her forced seduction and lame effort at conversation set his teeth on edge. It was time to get rid of her. "Driving," he lied smoothly. "I'm the chauffeur for that man over there."

"Oh." Her blatantly seductive attention stopped cold. "I didn't know. I thought you were one of them."

"Sorry, hon'. But don't feel like you have to quit what you were doing." He gave her his best, lusty grin.

Miss Perfect Tits smiled sympathetically and waved goodbye with a flash of her red fingertips. "Sorry, sweetie. You don't have what I want. See ya'."

He watched her wiggle her way over to the next available man and hook her arm securely into old Roger Hughes', the owner of this fancy penthouse. Roger's bushy white eyebrows jumped with delight to find her soft, ripe body pressing into his. At least Roger wasn't married--right now. He hoped the old geezer had a good time fucking Miss Perfect Tits tonight.

Gabe turned back to the bar and glanced down at his watch. Shit, only ten minutes had passed by. After a nod, the bartender walked back with the bottle of Glenlivet already poised for a pour into his glass.

"I'll just take the bottle." He reached over and took it out of the bartender's hand. "Thanks."

He headed for the outdoor terrace, away from these horny old men and the women who aimed to please them for a little bit of their money. After he finished the last half of this bottle, in private, he'd leave.

The night greeted him with playful wisps of cool, late spring air. Huge potted plants stood like sentinels along the terrace perimeter wall, their leaves fluttering and quaking on the wind. The sound of the city surrounded him; it was alive and vibrant. And so fuckin' noisy. He looked up into the sky while he walked and could barely make out any of the stars. Damned bright city lights flooded them out. Even the half moon seemed dimmer than normal.

At home, the velvet night sky stretched infinitely overhead, spread out like a blanket of brilliant stars. He loved seeing them, to marvel at their mystery and beauty. His longing for the ranch reminded him how irritated and restless he was with this overlong visit to New York.

Gabe wandered over to the perimeter wall to look down at the busy city streets. That's when he noticed he wasn't as alone as he'd hoped. A woman stood behind one of the potted plants near the wall. She hugged her arms tightly against her slim, curvy body. Even in the dark, he could tell she was shivering from the cool night air. Shoulder length chestnut hair kissed the tops of her pale, bare shoulders and danced on the flirty evening breeze while she stared down at the city scene below.

All of his senses grew suddenly alert. He moved over to get a better look. That dress, damn! It hugged her like a second skin. Instantly he wished it was his skin that molded over her curves and hugged that sweet, round little ass. She had a long pair of legs too, lightly muscled and sleek. Her feet were bare. He raised an eyebrow at the stiletto sandals cast off nearby.

Gabe grinned. Obviously, the pain of those killer shoes was worse than having her toes freeze solid on the cold marble tiles. What was she doing out here alone? Was she trying to hide from the horny goats inside? That was a mighty stupid thing for a hooker to do.

"You're not thinking of jumping, are you?" he asked half in jest.

She let out a little squeak of surprise and turned so quickly he saw her wobble toward the edge. He dropped the scotch and caught her around the waist, pulling her away from the wall. The bottle hit the tiles with a loud 'pop' and shattered. Glass shards bounced off the back of his pants and littered the floor with a tinkling warning.

"Damn," he swore, drawing her closer. "That was a mighty fine scotch, too."

She was taller than any woman he'd ever held so close and fit him perfectly from hip to chest. Elegant, slender hands pressed against the wall of his chest, burned through his shirt and seared him like a branding iron on a calf's hide. He liked the way she stared back at him. There was defiance and just a hint of temper sparkling in her eyes. What color were they? Hard to tell in the dusky light, but he suspected they were deep blue. Smoky blue, hot and angry, framed by silky lashes. She had a slim, round-tipped nose and kissable, naturally full lips. Pale, no lipstick. Not the cosmetically over-plumped lips that women thought all men found so attractive.

Desire for her slammed into him, tightening his groin. His cock eagerly thrust up against the softness of her belly. After a moment of staring at him, her eyes growing wider with every inch he expanded, she squirmed and tried to push away.

He'd never felt such hot, thick hunger for a woman he'd just met before. No way was she getting away from him now that he had her.

"Whoa there, sugar," he said softly against her struggles. "Don't move. There's glass all over the place and you aren't wearing your pretty shoes."