Semipro
Semipro
Kit Tunstall
A chance encounter and a misunderstanding have Jake thinking Sandra is a professional escort. She should be angry. She should set the record straight. She should definitely not be accompanying him to his hotel room for an erotic night of fun.
An Ellora’s Cave Romantica Publication
www.ellorascave.com
Semipro
ISBN 9781419932373
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
Semipro Copyright © 2011 Kit Tunstall
Edited by Shannon Combs
Cover art by Syneca
Electronic book publication March 2011
This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental. The characters are productions of the author’s imagination and used fictitiously.
The terms Romantica® and Quickies® are registered trademarks of Ellora’s Cave Publishing.
With the exception of quotes used in reviews, this book may not be reproduced or used in whole or in part by any means existing without written permission from the publisher, Ellora’s Cave Publishing, Inc.® 1056 Home Avenue, Akron OH 44310-3502.
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SEMIPRO
Kit Tunstall
Trademarks Acknowledgement
The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of the following wordmarks mentioned in this work of fiction:
Craigslist: Craigslist, Inc.
Chapter One
The tall, muscular man walking into the hotel’s lounge drew Sandra Cho’s gaze like a magnet. His sheer size would have caught her attention anyway, but it was the way the chandelier accented the golden highlights in his sandy-blond hair that held it. She couldn’t look away from his solid frame encased in a sports coat and a pair of khakis. His sleek, handsome features were equally compelling. He was the kind of man women wanted on sight, and she was no exception. Everything about him screamed that he was a perfect specimen, except for the slight limp impairing his gait.
Aware she was staring, Sandra forced her gaze back to the drink in front of her. The half-melted ice cubes had diluted the scotch to something undrinkable, but she toyed with the cork-and-mahogany coaster as the man neared. She caught her breath with a sharp inhalation when he sat down at the bar near her, leaving just one seat between them.
Her heart skittered, and she almost asked if he was Barry, though the picture of the man she was supposed to meet bore no resemblance to the man beside her. Had he been Barry, she could have almost forgiven the fact that he was an hour late. As it was, she had already written off Barry as a no-show and had been prepared to close out her tab and leave just seconds before the intriguing man had entered the bar.
Instead, she leaned forward to order a new drink that she didn’t really want, just to have an excuse to linger near him. As the bartender approached, he leaned closer, evidently prepared to order at the same time.
She smiled at him, trying to indicate he should order first. When he deferred with a wave of his hand, she asked for another scotch on the rocks.
“I’ll have the same,” he said.
The bartender poured their drinks quickly, sliding the cut crystal glasses to each of them with an expertise born of practice. “Shall I put these on your tab, miss?”
“Yes.” Sandra’s affirmative echoed the man’s refusal, but she nodded, saying more firmly, “Yes, please.”
“Well, thank you,” said the man. He lifted the glass in a half salute toward her before tossing back the contents as easily as some would swallow water. The glass met the teak bar with a little more force than necessary, and his brown-eyed gaze raked over her. “I insist on reciprocating.”
“No, thank you. I’m sure I won’t be drinking another.” Sandra sipped the scotch, wrinkling her nose at the aftereffects. She had never acquired a taste for alcohol, so any kind was as good as the next. Fortunately, she happened to drink what he was drinking, which had precipitated an opening to speak with him.
“That hardly seems fair.” He motioned to the bartender for another, adding, “Start a new tab, please.”
“What’s unfair about it?”
He grinned, adding appealing lines around his mouth and eyes, along with an adorable dimple. “It isn’t right for me to take a drink from a beautiful lady and not give something in return.”
Sandra smiled, finding his grin infectious. “You can give me the pleasure of your company. My intended companion didn’t show up.”
“I’d be happy to.”
In one smooth motion, with only a hint of pain in his expression, he twisted and slid across the chair. She caught the slight tightening of his leg, but quickly looked away. Clearly, the man wanted no attention directed toward his injury, and she didn’t want to sabotage what might end up being a pleasant meeting with unwelcome questions. As he settled, she extended her hand, “I’m Sandra.”
“Jake Reynolds.” His hand engulfed hers, sending darts of electricity arcing down her arm. He retained it a few seconds longer than polite, but she made no effort to pull away. When he let go, his fingers slid across her palms in a deliberately sensual manner. She shivered at the touch, surprised to have such an instant attraction to him. As a rule, she was more reserved about dating and men. Not one to jump in without looking, it was only recently that she’d ventured forth from her protective cocoon and began internet dating.
As though he’d read her mind, Jake asked, “What happened to your companion?”
Sandra shrugged, causing the spaghetti strap of her little black dress to slide halfway down her shoulder. Before she could correct its alignment, Jake pulled up the strap with a casual finger. He seemed unaffected by the action, and she tried to calm her racing heart rate. “I have no idea. I guess he stood me up.” A rueful smile curved her lips. It was ironic that she had forced herself to look past her misgivings at meeting in person someone she had known merely through email, only to have Barry decide not to show.
Jake shook his head. “Unbelievable. He must be an idiot.”
“Perhaps, but maybe I should be grateful.” She looked up at him through half-closed eyelids, hoping the look said sexy instead of sleepy.
A deep chuckle shook his chest. “Maybe I’m the one who should be grateful. Next time you see him, thank him for me.”
Sandra took a sip of the scotch. “I won’t be seeing Barry again. We’ve never met, actually. Tonight was supposed to be our first date.” She cocked her head to the side. “I suppose that term covers it.”
He lifted a brow. “How’s that work?”
“He answered my ad on Craigslist. I seemed to be what he was looking for, at least for tonight.” She grinned. “Apparently, he found someone else he wanted more.”
“His loss.” He was examining her with an unreadable expression, one that made her squirm. Abruptly, his grin returned, and he gestured for another scotch, having finished his second while she talked.
Sandra watched with a fair amount of hesitation as he downed that drink almost as quickly as the previous beverages.
Her uncertainty must have shown, because he gestured to the empty glass. “It’s strictly therapy, and very occasional
.”
“Ah.” Did all alcoholics say that? Until the day he died, her father had never admitted he had a problem. She could feel herself withdrawing from Jake and began looking for excuses to leave.
“You haven’t asked, but I’ll tell you why I’m here. It’s related to the scotch.” His lips twisted. “I was having dinner with my ex-agent. I thought it was going to be a strategy session to plan out how to attract a new team after my knee heals by next season. Turns out, it was his attempt to let me down easy.” His eyes darkened as his gaze settled on the ice cubes in his glass. “At thirty-nine, with an ACL injury, he doesn’t think I’ll find a new team. I’m no longer viable, so he dropped me.”
Instinctively, she reached out to place her hand on his. “I’m sorry. That must be awful.”
Jake shrugged. “Not as bad as when my ex-fiancée, who broke it off with me while I was still in the hospital, called Pete’s phone when he was in the bathroom. I answered, she thought I was him, and spoke pretty intimately. All in one night, I found out my ex-agent—who used to be my best friend—is screwing the bitch who left me when she saw my NFL career coming to an abrupt end.”
Sandra winced, unable to imagine how low Jake must feel after learning that. “Can I get you another?”
Jake laughed. “Nah. There’s no answer to what I’ll do with my life in the bottom of the scotch bottle.”
“No, definitely not.” Her hand was still on his, and she squeezed again. “Would you like to bounce ideas off me? I’m a good listener. I usually charge by the hour, but I’ll give you a free pass.” Sandra was thankful he hadn’t walked into her office for therapy sessions, which would have precluded any kind of relationship besides doctor-patient.
His eyes gleamed with a strange glint as he shook his head. “Honestly, I don’t want to think about the future at the moment. I just want to think about tonight.”
The way his pitch lowered an octave raised the hair on the back of her neck and had her nipples tightening with excitement. Jake seemed on the brink of propositioning her, and she planned to accept. A one-night stand had never appealed to her, but that had changed from the moment she saw him. She ached for Jake with a desire she’d never experienced before, the intensity of which made her willing to go against her typical behavior. She licked her lips, leaning closer to him.
“How much for the pleasure of your company this evening?”
Sandra’s mouth dropped, and she almost slapped him when it penetrated her brain that he thought she was a prostitute.
He continued, clearly oblivious to her reaction. “I’ve never done this before. I imagine you hear that a lot, but in my case, it’s true.” He winked. “I’ve never needed the services of a pro before. I probably don’t tonight, but I want you.”
She cleared her throat, not certain how to answer. Her anger had faded to stunned disbelief. A groan almost escaped, but she stifled it. Mentally reviewing their conversation, it was no wonder he’d come to that conclusion. Craigslist had a certain reputation for connecting whores and clients, though she definitely hadn’t posted her dating ad in that section. She’d even said she normally charged by the hour! It was on the tip of her tongue to explain just where he’d gone wrong in his assumptions, but she closed her mouth with a click.
The taboo of the scenario appealed to her on a deeply sexual level. The thought of having no inhibitions, of surrendering her normally cerebral existence for one of pure carnality, made her pulse race. Was there any harm in allowing the fantasy? She didn’t actually intend to take his money, but surely it wouldn’t hurt to indulge in a night of sex with him, to their mutual satisfaction.
“You know what? I don’t care what it costs. I have a feeling you’ll be worth it.”
Sandra touched the tip of her tongue to the corner of her mouth. “I’m sure you’ll be completely satisfied.”
Her skin tingled with anticipation as Jake took out his card to settle his tab. The bartender soon returned with both their slips. Her hand shook when she signed, making her penmanship terrible. As a matter of pride, she always deviated from the stereotypical doctor’s handwriting by writing clearly and legibly. Tonight, she didn’t care.
When they had both put away their cards, Jake slid out of his seat, and put his hand on her lower back as she did the same. On her feet in front of him, Sandra felt more petite than usual. At five-two, she was more than a foot shorter than he was. Jake towered over her, but it left her feeling protected and secure, rather than intimidated or overwhelmed.
“Shall we get a room?” asked Jake as they exited the lounge.
Sandra nodded, trying to appear confident. “That sounds like a good idea.” The tightening of her stomach made her question whether any of this was a good idea, but she ignored the attack of nerves and accompanied him to the lobby. She lingered behind him as he booked the room, and they walked to the elevator, hand in hand. When they stepped onto the car, the metal doors closing behind them, she realized there was no turning back. A quick search of her conflicting emotions yielded no pressing desire to change her mind. She wanted this, wanted Jake, and nothing was going to stand in her way—not even her own annoying voice of reason that grew ever-quieter as the elevator whisked them to their room.
Chapter Two
The room was as elegant as the rest of the hotel, though she barely noticed the luxurious furnishings, dark cherry wood and silver-and-mauve color scheme. Instead, her attention shifted and remained glued to Jake. As soon as the door had clicked shut behind them, he unbuttoned his jacket and dropped it carelessly across the wingback chair nearest the door. Her mouth watered with anticipation as she waited for him to finish undressing.
Apparently, Jake wasn’t in that kind of rush, because he contented himself with undoing the first button of the polo shirt he’d worn underneath. Her stomach dipped with disappointment, even though the idea of just jumping into nakedness was a bit daunting.
He sat down on the sofa, patting the cushion beside him. “Come join me, Sandra.”
She laid her purse on the chair he’d chosen as a coat rack before walking over to him. Licking dry lips, she sat on the cushion beside him, wondering why she was so nervous. It was her first one-night stand, but not her first time having sex. She had lived a somewhat monk-like existence the past few years while establishing her therapy practice, but had her fair share of experience in college. There had even been time for an occasional, short-lived relationship over the years. Sex wasn’t a mystery, so why was she so anxious?
Perhaps it was knowing she was about to explore the enigma of Jake Reynolds that had her nerve endings thrumming and her palms sweating. She blotted them discreetly on the satin dress.
Jake’s mouth lifted in a half-grin as he pulled her back against the couch, while angling her closer to him. “Damned if I don’t feel like a virgin.”
A startled laugh escaped Sandra. “Me too,” she admitted.
He seemed surprised. “I’d have thought you’d have more confidence, this being your line of work.”
She shrugged. “Let’s just say that I’m still a semipro.”
It was his turn to laugh. The husky sound faded as he moved closer, lowering his head. His mouth was inches from hers. “You have the most beautiful lips. What’s that lipstick called?”
“Ripe Cherry.”
He exhaled raggedly. “Perfect.”
“What is?” Sandra found it difficult to drag in a deep breath as his mouth edged closer to hers. Waiting for his lips to settle on hers was killing her. She curled her hands into fists against her legs.
“You.” Finally Jake bridged the distance still separating them. His lips teased hers with a gentle stroke as he tentatively tasted her.
Sandra twined a hand in his thick locks, bringing him closer to deepen the kiss. His mouth curved to hers as though made by design. Heat sparked where their lips fused, spreading through her like a wildfire. She parted her lips to welcome his probing tongue. It swept into her mouth, searching the depths while elic
iting shivers that raced up her spine. Lost in the moment, she had no concept of time or space. The kiss was unlike any before, burning her to the core.
Her nipples pressed against the silky lining of her dress, in turn aggravated by the friction with the material when she shifted to move closer to Jake. Sandra gasped when Jake grasped her hips to lift her onto his lap. Her thighs straddled his, and her breasts pressed against his chest. It relieved the abrasion from the lining, while the pressure from his body added a new level of sensitivity, heightening her arousal.
Jake broke the kiss to slide his mouth down her chin, across her throat, and to the bend at her neck. He caught the delicate flesh between his teeth, nipping her gently. She moaned, arching her back. He placed a hand between her shoulder blades, holding her taut against him. “You taste like ripe cherries, baby,” he said against her ear. His tongue traced her lobe, making her squirm. “So good.” He drew the lobe between his teeth to graze her. Sandra clutched his hair with one hair, anchoring herself with the other around his neck.
He breathed into her ear, making her cry out. Every nerve in her body sang with arousal, stirring her to a fever pitch. “Yes, please,” she said, encouraging Jake when he undid the zipper to her waist. The bodice drooped and would have fallen if the straps hadn’t held it in place. With impatient movements, he slid them down her arms, and she assisted with the removal.
“Absolutely perfect,” said Jake, sounding awed, when the bodice was around her waist. He cupped her breasts in his palms, squeezing lightly. “The perfect amount, the perfect texture, and the most perfect pink nipples.” He thumbed them as he spoke, teasing them so that they tightened almost painfully.
“You’re pretty perfect yourself.” Her voice was husky with passion, sounding unlike her. She framed his face with her hands, pausing for a long kiss before speaking again. “The minute I saw you in the lounge, I thought to myself that you were a perfect specimen.”