Personal Escort By Ainsley Booth
Billionaire Secrets #2
Publication Date: October 24, 2017
Genres: Adult, Contemporary, Romance
She needs a fake fiancé. He’s secretly falling in love.
Cara Russo needs to get married. Or at least, make it look like she got married.
Toby Hunt can’t let his best friend’s little sister rush into anything foolish. So when she needs to hire an escort, he says he’ll take care of it.
Now he’s waiting for her at St. George Station.
This billionaire rom com modern fairy tale was originally published in the Love in Transit anthology. It has been expanded for single title publication.
The Billionaire Secrets series
Personal Delivery – Jake and Jana
Personal Escort – Toby and Cara
Personal Disaster – Marcus and Poppy (currently available in the Rogue Desire anthology)
Personal Interest – Ben and Skye, coming soon
“Have you even tried dating?” He lifts his hands in the air, like he might strangle me—and wouldn’t that be a weird twist to an already strange day. Billionaire murders best friend’s little sister in Prospect Park.
He drops his hands to his hips and gives me a disbelieving look. “That sounds like not really.”
“Cara, seriously. Find a nice boy and start dating him.” His face twists, like he’s forcing himself to be lighthearted about this. “Let things progress if you like each other, and when he gets down on one knee, make sure he knows your brother has two muscle-bound best friends who will kick his ass if he doesn’t treat you right.”
He flexes his shoulders, his chest straining against his dress shirt, and I know he’s teasing, but there’s a lot more bulk under that blue cotton than I’d noticed before. Then he gives me a terse, crooked smile, and an instruction that knocks the wind out of me. “You should wait until someone lights you up inside.”
Gee, I wish. But after I catch my breath, I make a scoffing sound, because really? That hasn’t happened in twenty-four years.
“I’m serious.” And I can tell he is, the way he’s staring at me like this is the most important lesson he could ever teach me.
My square-jawed, clear-eyed, superhero in full-on big brother mode.
No, not brotherly. A different brand of protective know-it-all. Like he thinks from his hyper-masculine, alpha point of view that anything less than a lusty conquering just won’t do.
In theory, he’s not wrong.
In reality, it’s just not that simple.
“I’m so not a romantic, Toby. But that’s a sweet thought.”
He frowns. “I’m not a romantic, either.”
“You sure sound like one.” I reach out and push my hand against his chest. I mean to shove him gently, but he doesn’t move, and my hand just collides against hard, broad muscles.
Really hard. Extra broad.
My heartbeat gets louder. If I were the fantasizing type, this would be how a lusty conquering would start. Maybe not in the middle of a Brooklyn park.
Probably not with Toby, although any reasons I previously could list for why not are now escaping me.
Has he always been this tall? Yes. But didn’t he used to be skinny?
Definitely not skinny anymore. Do you do CrossFit? Not a good question to ask out loud while I’m stroking his chest. But he probably does. I bet all the California CEOs do.
Maybe I should have spent more time paying attention while I was out there.
Except I had dated at Stanford.
Disasters, every single time.
Equal parts of me being too awkward and nobody being quite as hot as Toby is right now. If I’d been up-close-and-personal with a college-version of this, I’d probably have tried harder not to be hopeless.
With extreme effort, I pull my hand back.
No. Crushing. On. Toby.
I’ve heard that sex drives kick in as women get older. I wasn’t fully aware of the possibility of my sex drive kicking into gear in a single day, and revving quite so hard for just one guy.
One off-limits guy, who still hasn’t said anything.
I hover my hand a few inches from his body, my palm itching to touch him again. Over and over again.
Then I step back and laugh, because whoa, that was weird. “So anyway—”
Toby reaches out and catches my wrist, his fingers looping around my arm in a gentle, totally breakable bond. He steps closer, and I stop moving.
He pulls my hand back to his chest and keeps moving until the gap between us is gone and he’s curved over me, his hand in my hair. His lips are right above my mouth and every cell in my body is screaming yes!
I didn’t see this coming. From the hammering of his heart against my fingers, he didn’t either.
~ABOUT AINSLEY BOOTH~
Mom by day and filthy romance writer by night, Ainsley is super grateful for caffeine, banana and blueberry muffins, and yoga pants. She is the USAT bestselling author of Prime Minister and Hate F*@k and also writes sexy small town and military romance as Zoe York.
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Hi there! I’m a mom and wife by day (and night), aspiring writer (in my dreams), and an avid reader (every day of the week). This is my little corner of the web to post about ALL things books. I live in Copenhagen, but I am a Canadian girl (born and raised) at heart.