In small towns, dirty little secrets don’t remain secret for long…
Everyone loves Parker Morgan, especially the high society ladies who pay thousands for his time. Becoming a male escort hadn’t been something Parker wanted to do, but when his family needed money to survive, he compromised everything he believed in to make ends meet. But there are two things he refuses to do—one, be paid for sex. Two, let himself fall for his beautiful new neighbor. She’s too pure and sweet for him. And that sadness in her eyes… he doesn’t want know the cause of it. He has too many problems of his own.
A war widow at only twenty-two, Brooklyn Reeves has lived a shadowed existence for two years. Desperate to start over, she moves to Forrestville, never dreaming her new neighbor would be so sexy—not that she wants a relationship of any kind with him. Besides, he’s completely hostile and rude anytime they run into one another. Unfortunately, he’s also her handyman, and she’s forced to repeatedly call on him when one thing after another goes wrong with her rental house.
Only, as spring turns to summer, Brooklyn begins to sees a new side to Parker—one that makes her reconsider her opinion of him. Sparks fly, igniting a hunger that neither of them can resist.
But are either of them prepared for the consequences, once Parker’s dirty little secret comes to light?
Chapter One
Brooklyn
I dance around the house, dusting off everything as I move from room to room. Honestly, I hate to clean, but I want it to look perfect for Braden, the loveable clean-freak, when he walks through the door. In less than forty-eight hours, he will be home from Afghanistan. In less than sixty days, he’ll be out of the Marines for good.
Twirling around, my dark hair smacks me in the face. I laugh, hugging myself tight. I can’t remember the last time I felt so much joy. I can’t remember the last time I could breathe without the sharp pinch in my heart reminding me that my husband is at war.
I glance in the bathroom mirror and throw the dust rag on the counter, making a sexy face while fluffing up my hair. “Wait until you get home, Gunnery Sergeant Reeves.” I stand to one side and shake my butt, pretending that Braden is watching me from the bedroom.
Blowing a kiss with only my lips, I cup my breasts and smile seductively, willing him to come closer. His brown eyes widen, then darken. He’d come up behind me, his hand coming to rest on my hips to slow me down. We’d move… as one. One breath, one heartbeat.
I trail my hand up my stomach, imagining his hand. I touch my face. His lips. The last time we kissed was five and a half months ago, right before he boarded a plane back to—
There’s a knock on the door accompanied by the ringing of the doorbell. Flustered, I turn the water on in the sink, splashing some on my face. “Coming,” I call out as I towel off my face. Nothing like getting caught fantasizing.
But at least it was about my hot husband.
Smiling, I open the door to find two men on the other side. They’re in uniform, their faces somber. The joy I felt only moments ago rushes out of me, my legs go numb, and I start to fall. The closest Marine reaches for me, holding me up by his strength alone.
“No, no, nononononono,” I chant as the other one says the words every wife, mother, sister, and brother dreads to hear. I cover my ear with my hands and screw my eyes shut, but I can still hear him.
“I’m sorry, ma’am, but Gunnery Sergeant Reeves was killed en route—”
“He died protecting his brothers—”
Every sentence is like a shock to my system. My body jerks with each word.
“Thank you for your sacrifice.”
My eyes fly open, and I begin to fight the man holding me, but he won’t let go. “Ma’am is there someone we can call?”
“Braden!” I scream, tears pouring down my face. For one wild moment, I think if I scream loud enough, he’ll hear me and jump out from the bushes to tell me it was just a joke. A horrible prank that he’ll never play on me again, because he’s home for good and no god-forsaken war will ever take him from me. “Braden. Damn you, this isn’t funny. Come out and tell them to leave.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I see a familiar face striding to us, her face determined but compassionate. “I can take her, boys,” she says softly.
The Marine holding me lets me go, and I fall into the arms of my neighbor.
“Brooklyn, my baby girl,” Soo Lin soothes. “Let’s go inside.”
“T-Tell them to leave. They’re making up stuff a-about B-Braden,” I cry.
But she doesn’t listen to me. “Hush… hush. You can’t let the others see you like this.”
“I don’t care,” I sob. “I don’t care. I want him back.” I break away from her embrace and wipe my nose on my arm, sniffing. “It’s a joke, right? You’re in on it, too. Not funny, girl. Not funny at all.”
Running to the side of the house, I begin to tear at the bushes, like Braden’s a hidden Easter egg. “Come out,” I scream, over and over as my throat grows raw. But I can’t find him; the flowerbed is overgrown.
Dropping to my knees, I rip at the weeds I hadn’t gotten to yet. “Braden won’t like these,” I mutter to myself. “He hates weeds, and will try to get to work as soon as he gets home.”
I feel a hand on my shoulder. Pausing, I look up at Soon Lee through my tears. “I have to make the house pretty.” Getting back to work, I claw through the rocky dirty until my nails are bleeding.
“Get up. You are the wife of an officer, and an example to others,” she reminds me.
I don’t want to be the wife of an officer. I just want to be Braden and Brooklyn, two people who met and fell in love at community college. “Which is why I have to finish cleaning.” I grab a weed, sharp pricks stab into my skin. Jerking away, I look at my hands. They are covered in grime, the nails ragged.
“Stop this now and stand up,” she says in a commanding voice I’ve never heard before.
Slowly, I rise to my feet, my chin coming up to protect myself. “I have a lot to do before Braden gets home.”
Her brown eyes turn liquid. “Yes, you do.”
Brushing off my shorts, I head back to the house, calling over my shoulder, “Can you make that chicken casserole, Braden loves? I know he’s been dy—wanting to have some.” I gulp. There’s no way I can say the word. Instead, I walk inside with Soon Lee right behind me.
I hear the door shut, and I stop in the middle of the living room.
“Now you can grieve,” she says and I whirl around, spitting mad.
“Don’t tell me what to do,” I snap at her.
She stands there patiently, even as her eyes snap with fire. The daughter of a Four Star General, Soo Lin Haggerty has never been one to just stand there and take anyone’s flak, least of all a lowly Gunnery Sergeant’s wife.
We face off, even as my body starts to shake. Even as tears gather once more and my nose gets snotty. Even as my heart breaks and breaks until there’s nothing left but dust. Even as my insides turn to ashes.
My lips tremble, and I still stand there. My stomach heaves, forcing up great sobs. Wrapping my arms around my middle, I try to hold it in. I try to keep it together, but I can’t… I’m not strong.
Not like Soo Lin. Not like any of other wives who husbands had died before mine. Braden’s dead.
Killed. Murdered. A casualty of war.
“He’s really dead?” I whisper and she nods, coming closer. “What will I tell his momma? His dad?”
“What they need to know. I’ll help you.” She takes me in her arms, and I fall apart. As my knees give way, she follows me to the floor, holding me tight and stroking my head. Soon Lee rocks me, as a mother would a child.
“He was only twenty-three,” I whimper. “He was too young to die. We didn’t have enough time together.”
“Remember the time you did have,” she says gently. I know she speaks from experience. Her own husband had been killed during the first Gulf War and she’d never remarried. “Cherish that. Cherish your memories.”
I stare at a picture of Braden and me on our wedding day. We were laughing as we kissed, full of love and hope. We had so many dreams and desires and plans. So many plans.
Now we have nothing at all.
Chapter Two
Parker
Two Years later
A manicured hand squeezes my thigh, and I lean into the woman sitting beside me. “Are you ready to leave?” I ask, making sure to brush my lips against the lobe of her ear.
She gasps, her ruby red lips forming a small o that disgusts me. The thought of us practically kissing her in front of her friends, during a speech given by her husband, has her panting like a bitch in heat.
I hate being the other man. I hate having to be here at all.
Her hand travels higher, to where I’m not hard.
She frowns. “It seems you’re not ready.”
Leaning forward, I gaze into her heavily made up eyes and think of every erotic thing I can. Of every porno I’ve watched, every dirty magazine I’ve read. Finally, finally I get a semi. “I needed to see your gorgeous face.”
She licks her lips, and I know what she’s thinking. Where she wants to put her mouth when we’re alone, and I’ll let her. My stomach roils at the thought.
This is the last time, I remind myself. Tomorrow morning, I’ll be free, and I can finally do what I want to do. Go where I want to go.
“Such a charmer,” she coos.
That’s me. The most charming of the Morgan boys. The agency I work for charges two thousand dollars for an hour of my time, all because of one technicality I refuse to change. So, that makes me the most expensive of the Morgan boys as well.
Wouldn’t my momma be proud?
The crowd start clapping, rising as a collective of one. Except for me. I sit there, with a fucking hard-on as Mrs. Groves blows kisses to her husband. Not that he cares what or who she does. He’s a frequent client where I work as well.
Grabbing the glass of champagne in front of me, I down it and then hers, because she won’t miss it. Not that two glasses will do anything. Not that I want the alcohol to do anything. I can’t be drunk around clients. Agency rule and all that shit. Then again, I don’t want to be drunk around clients. The women who pay for my services are aggressive as hell and think they own me.
Point of fact, they do own me.
Mrs. Groves grabs my shoulder, urging me up. “Let’s go.”
Purposefully flashing my dimples at her friends, in case they have an urge to secure my services, I follow her out of the ballroom and into an elevator.
Point of fact, they will never secure my services, because I’m done.
She’s on me as soon as the doors close. Groping, kissing, fumbling to get my pants down.
“God, you’re huge,” she says cupping my dick.
That’s what they all say. I’ve heard so often that it means nothing. None of this does.
I lift her chin. “You make me hard.” My smile still pasted on, I take out a condom and roll it on. “Sorry. Rules and all.”
“Rules are made to be broken,” she says with all the assurance her privileged existence affords her.
There’s no way in hell we’re doing anything without protection. “I doubt your husband would want to kiss you with my come in your mouth.”
Her eyes widen at that visual. “You are so, so bad Manuel.”
Manuel. I barely stop myself from rolling my eyes. Jesus. Like I’d give her my real name. Besides, I think it’s an added thrill for her to go down on someone who could pass for one of the guys who mows her lawn.
With a pleased smile, her head bows and I close my eyes, pretending that I’m with someone—anyone—else. Someone who loves me. Someone who hasn’t paid for my time.
The very last time, I chant in my head. I dig my hand into her hair, then cup her neck and shove her against me.
She moans loudly.
The elevator zooms upward, and her nails dig into my ass. God, I hate it when they get rough. When they assume I want it hard and fast. Only, she’s right, I do want it fast.
I want it over. I want this night over.
Glancing at the numbers, I count the seconds before I can put an end to this. Too soon and she’ll know, too long and she’ll complain.
Right before the elevator stops, I groan loudly, faking my orgasm. Yeah, it’s possible for guys, too.
Satisfaction blooms on her face as I turn away slightly and adjust myself. I tie off the condom and tuck it into my pocket. She links her arm through mine and the doors open with a soft woosh. We walk in silence to her hotel room.
“Do you want me to come inside?” I ask, stopping at her door.
She wipes the corner of her mouth and hands me the key. “Can I persuade you to do more than what was agreed?”
“No sex.”
A pout forms on her lips, one that looks practiced. Probably she used it on her husband to get her way. “Money is not object.”
“It’s not about money.” I unlock the door and hold it open, gesturing for her to go inside. “After you.”
She lingers, placing her hands on my chest. “But you will do the,” she glances around the hallway, looking like someone who wants to get caught, “other?”
The part where I give her multiple orgasms… Yeah, I’ll do that, just like I’ve done with all the other women before her. She thinks she’s special, but to me, she’s nothing but a client. Nothing, but a means to an end. As I am to her.
Giving her a flirtatious smile, I say, “Only if you do exactly as I say.”
Her nostrils flare. “Yes, sir,” she says meekly. Yeah, she’s into this. Any other guy would be into this, too. I mean, money for sex… any kind of sex is a wet dream for the ones I know.
But not me.
The very last time.
Blowing out a breath, I follow her inside and let the door close behind me.