Yours for the Night (3 page)

And then there were the other images that ran through Marianna’s mind. She tossed and turned, kicking the blankets aside. She hadn’t had sex in far too long. It made her forget she was a woman. Behind her lids, she imagined a handsome stranger picking her up in his limousine. Salt-and-pepper hair. She liked older men. Ger ard, her last lover, had been in his late forties, but they’d broken up over two years ago. She hadn’t found time for a relationship since. God, she missed sex.

Yes, distinguished gray hair, trim, toned body, a nice smile, sexy voice. She gave herself over to the fantasy. He helps her into the limo, pours her champagne. Chitchat, light touches, first her hand, her fingers, her arm, then her knee. They’re alone, a tinted window between them and the driver. She’s chosen a black dress with a high slit, and he slides his hand up her thigh. She’s wet, her nipples hard.

Marianna slipped her hand down between her legs. He doesn’t kiss her; she’s not sure she wants to kiss him anyway. That’s more personal. She shifts, spreading her legs for him. She isn’t wearing panties, 17

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and he strokes along her slit. It’s the most amazing feeling, looking into a stranger’s eyes as he fingers you. Hiking her skirt higher, she straddles him and rides his hand. Oh, so good.

Marianna buried her finger inside, then slid out to use all that moisture on her clit. The fantasy had her so wet she didn’t need her vibrator. Steadying herself on his shoulder, digging her fingers into his suit jacket, she pumps against his hand as if it were his cock. Then she throws her head back and comes. As she climbs off and straightens her dress, he hands her an envelope. Four thousand dollars for the best orgasm of her life. Marianna cried out, climaxing to the images in her head. A handsome stranger. And all that money.

THE NEXT MORNING SHE WAS ALMOST OUT THE DOOR WHEN HER cell phone chirped. Rather than worry about trying to get the Bluetooth in so she could drive, Marianna answered without looking, her hand on the doorknob.

“Hi, darling.”

Her mother. It could mean only one thing. Her father had talked. “Hi, Mom. I’m off to an appointment.” Not. She’d be behind her desk at the brokerage hoping her leads didn’t hang up before she got her name out. “I’ll call you back when I’m done.”

“This’ll only take a minute, honey.”

Marianna held back a groan. She loved her mom, she loved her dad, but being stuck between Asa and Louise Whitney was akin to Mel Gibson in Braveheart. Drawn and quartered. “Okay.”

“You know, if you need money, you don’t have to go to your father. I’ve got some spare pocket change.”

Her mom would give her the money and not expect to be paid back. But eventually her father would figure it out and accuse her of going behind his back. Then both she and her mom would be in trouble. There’d be emotional strings attached, too. “Thanks, Mom, but I’m fine. I’ve got it worked out. In fact, I’m on my way to a meeting that looks promising.”

“All right, baby, but if you need it, we can keep it from your father, I promise.”

Marianna didn’t want to keep it from her father. She wanted to be in a position where she never had to go to him again. “Really, Mom, everything’s 18

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cool. But thanks.”

“Your sister says she hasn’t heard from you in over a week.”

That was one of the emotional strings. Calling her sister, making sure her sister felt included in her life, listening to her sister tell her how badly Marianna was screwing up. “I’ve been busy, Mom, but I’ll try to give her a call.”

“She said she’s left you several messages.”

Tattletale. Tina, older by two years, had been a tattletale even when they were kids. “I’ll call her today.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.” She hated it when her mother made her promise. “Gotta run, love you, bye.”

It took her mother only long enough for Marianna to get to her car and put her Bluetooth in. The cell phone beeped in her ear and announced her sister’s name. Mom hadn’t wasted a second.

Marianna tapped the answer button. No point in trying to hide. They’d find her eventually. “Hi, Tina. What’s up? Sorry I haven’t called you, but work has gone psycho.”

“You’re such a liar. You’ve been asking Dad for money again, so work can’t be good at all.”

That’s exactly where Tina learned to be a tattletale, from their mother. “It was a loan,” Marianna said tightly.

“You always need a loan. You’ll give Dad a heart attack.”

Stress would give him the heart attack. Marianna considered herself merely an embarrassment. With her perfect husband, perfect house, and two perfect teenagers, Tina always made her feel small. “I’ve got a good line on something, so I don’t need the loan anymore.”

“In one day?” Tina snorted.

“That’s how these things happen. Feast or famine,” Marianna quipped, then she just couldn’t keep her big mouth shut. “I’ve been going to some events up in the city with Jewel and my contacts list has grown exponentially.”

“That’s great.” Tina didn’t sound convinced. “Anyone Dad knows? He could probably put a good word in for you.”

“Nope, no one Dad knows,” she said quickly. She did not need her father asking who.

“Well,” Tina paused, thinking, thinking, “let’s do lunch.”

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Marianna couldn’t afford lunch with her sister, neither the cash it would cost for the expensive restaurant Tina chose nor the emotional drain listening to how she, Marianna, needed to get her act in gear. “I’m not sure when I’ll have time, but I’ll call you as soon as I can. Gotta run, love you, bye.”

She disconnected and pulled into a random parking lot, shutting the engine off as she peered through the ginormously cracked windshield. One breath, two. She’d screwed herself now. She couldn’t go back and say her “leads” hadn’t panned out. Her family would know she’d made up the whole thing. And by God, she needed to stand on her own two feet to show them she wasn’t the loser they thought.

She said Jewel’s name into the Bluetooth.

She’d only do it a few times. Just long enough to get herself out of debt. Her family never had to know where the money came from. 20

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3

CHASE RAMIREZ STOOD BEFORE HIS SAN FRANCISCO HIGH-RISE office window overlooking the Bay Bridge. The afternoon sun was too bright on the water. The reflection burned his eyeballs and made his head pound.

“All I’m saying is you to need to get social again.” Behind Chase, Harve drummed his fingers on the arm of his chair as he spoke. “I’m worried about you, bro.”

Harve Duesterman wasn’t his brother, but they’d known each other for many years, starting as freshmen in college when they’d been on the rowing team and both majored in business. They’d roomed together and, after graduating, had climbed each rung of the corporate ladder in tandem. When Chase finally made CEO, the man he’d wanted for his CFO was Harve. He trusted him. The last year, though, had been hard. Chase had lost something intrinsic. Waking up in the morning seemed almost pointless. Work didn’t interest him. His concentration sucked.

Sometimes it was hard just to breathe.

“I’m not interested in dating.”

“It’s not a date, it’s sex.” Harve sighed. They’d had this conversation too many times in the past three or four months. “You need a woman.”

In the old days, before Chase married Rosie, he and Harve had done their quota of screwing around. They’d had some nasty times, shared a few women. In college, Harve’s nickname had been Deuce, both a play on his name and the fact that he’d preferred doubles, two men and a woman, two women and him, two men with two women. They’d both settled down, gone the marriage-andkids route, though Harve had gotten divorced about three years ago. As for Chase, with Rosie gone, the only thing that kept him going was Krista, his daughter. She was a sophomore in college, and he had to put on a good face for her, make her think he was doing fine. She’d lost her mother; he didn’t want her to be afraid she’d lose her father, too.

But fuck, pretending anything mattered took its toll.

“Sex isn’t always the answer, Harve.”

“No. But neither is what you’re doing, dude, letting yourself waste away. I’m worried.”

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It was a wonder the board hadn’t fired him, he’d been doing such a shitty job. Maybe he should quit. Yet as hard as it was to get up in the morning, if he didn’t have work to occupy him, he’d simply die. And he needed to stick around for Krista.

“I’m fine,” he said, but even he heard the apathy as he turned back to his desk and sat in the leather chair.

“One night,” Harve insisted, his eyes alight with hanky-panky as they’d been all the freaking time in college. Harve might have lost most of his hair and stand only five-eight, but he was in good shape, and women gravitated to him as if they scented how much he loved sex, how much he liked making a woman come. “I’ll find you the perfect lady. It’ll break you out of this funk you’re in.”

This wasn’t a funk. Rosie was dead. His fault. He should have done something. Krista had gone off to college, and he’d been working all the time, and one day Rosie was . . . gone. He hadn’t even known she’d had the sleeping pills.

God, he was tired. “I’m not into threesomes or any of that crap anymore, Harve. I appreciate your concern, but I’m fine.”

“It wasn’t your fault.”

Chase swallowed hard. “I know.” He wasn’t a good liar. Some would say working hard, getting ahead, growing the income and taking care of the family was the most a man could do. Rosie had needed more. He hadn’t been there to give it to her.

“So get out for once.” Harve stared him down.

He didn’t want a woman. He didn’t want to date. He didn’t even care about sex. But Harve wouldn’t let up on the questions and the solutions, and maybe it was time to bite the bullet. Maybe he needed a mindless fuck. Besides, if he did it at least once, Harve would get off his back.

“All right. I’ll go out with one of your ‘courtesans’ or whatever the hell you call them.” He’d paid for sex before, when he was single. The kinkiness of it had appealed to him then. Now it was simply the anonymity. She wouldn’t be expecting him to call her again.

Harve rubbed his hands together lasciviously. “Awesome. When do you want me to set it up?”

“Krista’s coming home this weekend, so it’ll have to be the following weekend.” His daughter was as worried about him as Harve was. But he’d never 22

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do anything to himself. Never. When he wasn’t feeling guilty, he managed to hate Rosie for what she’d put Krista through. Which was better, anger or guilt?

He wasn’t sure, but he’d never in a million years do that to Krista. He held up his hands. “But no tag-teaming like when we were in college, okay? Just a simple date.”

“How about dinner? You can talk, get to know the chick a bit, and see where things go.” Rising to round the desk, Harve clasped Chase’s shoulder. “And if it’s a no-go, that’s fine. I’ll just feel better if you get out of that apartment.”

Okay. One evening out of his life. He could even tell Krista he had a date. She’d be pleased. Maybe she’d think he was getting over it, moving on, healing.

“SO, MARIANNA”—THE WOMAN GLANCED UP FROM HER LEGAL pad—“why are you interested in this area of exploration?”

Marianna wanted to laugh. Area of exploration? It was Wednesday, two days after Jewel had first mentioned it, and here Marianna was, hiring on as a highpriced call girl. It wasn’t exactly an “area of exploration.” It was desperation. But Isabel was completely serious.

Marianna had taken BART into the city, and a cab from the station to Nob Hill. The establishment—or brothel, or whatever you called it—was nestled between two Victorians converted to law offices. Marianna thought it rather amusing. If anyone got arrested, they had lawyers on either side to choose from. The front lobby had been nicely appointed with buffed hardwood floors, dark paneling, a pretty receptionist, and Impressionist prints on the walls. She’d been shown to a small front room, which offered a fabulous view of Alcatraz between the buildings. The coffee was of the highest aromatic quality. Isabel had arrived just as Marianna seated herself on the expensive yet comfortable chintz sofa.