Summary:
Micah's job as a host is to be whatever his
clients want him to be and he loves it -- especially because pretending to be
someone else is better than remembering what he's running from.
Mr. Daniel Hart, a client who had been
expecting a female host is suddenly thrown into Micah's world and won't stop
exploring until he knows Micah's secrets.
Unable to stay away from Daniel, Micah continues
to return to high society functions and is therefore reminded of the terrible
scar on his chest and the man who gave it to him. Micah wants nothing more than
to belong to the artistic Daniel, but being with him could mean having to face
his dangerous past.
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Excerpt:
"You're open for tomorrow." Lance
glanced at his computer, clicking his mouse. "Then you have an appointment
with a Mr. Hart."
Micah was surprised. "I don't remember
Mr. Hart."
"He's new. Requested the most
beautiful escort we have."
Micah covered his laugh with a cough.
"Didn't he bother looking at the website?"
"Sounded like he decided to get an
escort last minute," Lance said, clicking some more. "He didn't want
to take the time to look through pictures."
One thing Micah loved about The Kline
Agency was that while most escort services posted full body shots and bios on
their websites, Kline posted only profile shots, no faces. Potential clients
had to register first. Full-face pictures only went out to email after Lance
ran a background check. Micah couldn't hide if his picture was blasted all over
a high volume website.
Lance sighed. "Get some sleep."
"Yeah, I'm tired." Micah
unclasped the hair clip. "Is Candace back yet?"
"She's with her favorite client. But
she said you could keep the clip. Something about how that color looks better
in dark hair than red."
Micah nodded, replacing the clip before
grabbing his bag. He would change when he got home.
Candace's hair clip stuck to the side of
his head, pressed tightly because he'd worn a knit cap. His gloves had a hole
in the right index finger, reminding him he had to buy a new pair before winter
came and New York got seriously cold. The Kline Agency office was in a good
part of the city. The streetlights were always working at every corner, and the
cars lined up were clean without a scratch.
His studio was nice enough, considering how
quickly he'd had to move and the funds he'd had available at the time.
Unlocking the door, he kicked aside a pile of mail. He recognized letters from
his mom, and his ex... they only brought back the terrible decisions he'd made.
Kisaki, a kitten he'd rescued, was waiting,
rubbing his head affectionately against Micah's leg. "Hey baby,"
Micah cooed, dropping his bag on the table. "Hungry?" He held Kisaki
with one hand while sifting through his cupboard for a fresh can of cat food.
"I'm hungry too."
The scent of wet food had barely hit
Micah's nostrils when he heard his phone buzzing from his bag.
"Hello?"
There was a pause before a familiar voice
made Micah cringe. "Don't hang up this time."
There was no way Micah was staying on the line.
Breathing heavily, Micah slid to the floor, pressing the end button before
resting on his side, one hand on Kisaki's back as he lapped up his food. He'd
have to get his number changed. Again.
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