1
ZANE
“What do you mean you don’t fuck? Isn’t that part of the job?”
She stared at me in dismay as she slid her dress back on. I cringed—I’d told the agency I wouldn’t fuckanyone—it was business. I didn’t even kiss them.
I’m an escort.
I adore women, and I know they love me—mainly because of my dashing good looks and because I can charm the birds from the trees if I needed to.
“Ms. Clancy—”
“Sara,” she reminded me for the fiftieth time that evening. “Please, Zane, call me Sara.”
Sara wasn’t bad looking at all for her age, long blonde hair, and collagen-filled lips that made her look smoother than she was.
“What about off the record? Please, Zane, it’s been so long. I’m clean; I use condoms, I’m on the pill. I’ll pay whatever you want.”
I raised an eyebrow at her as I coughed, running a hand through my platinum blond hair.
“You’rebeautiful, Sara. But I don’t believe in sex before marriage. I loved your company, though.”
She blinked in shock as I flashed her my best smile.
“Marry me then,” she pleaded as I laughed.
“Enjoy the rest of your evening. Call me anytime you need company.”
I kissed her cheek before I left, adjusting my suit jacket as I closed the door behind me.
“Soyou’remy mother’s date.” I heard a voice drawl from behind me. I lifted my gaze to see a girl with waist-length jet black hair peering up at me through narrowed eyes.
Wow.
She was voluptuous, denim shorts revealing creamy thighs, covered in tattoos. She tilted her head, pursing her red-painted lips together as she gazed at me.
“Aren’t you Caleb Fallon’s little brother?”
“Little?” I echoed with amusement as she scanned my toned body beneath my suit.
“Well, younger. I’m Verona. I do his tattoos,” she explained, and I nodded.
“Ah. Well, it’s a pleasure to meet you, Verona. I’m Zane.”
Her eyes flickered back to the house, and she frowned, clearly about to ask another question. I tried not to stare as she leaned back into the car, hauling her tattoo case out with ease. God, she wasgorgeous.
“So what’s a guy like you doing dating an older woman with a truckload of issues?” she laughed, and I tilted my head in confusion.
“A guy like me?”
“Why do you keep repeating what I say?”
I held her gaze as she frowned.
“Sorry. I’m not dating your mother. Or anyone else,” I added, with a smirk, when she glanced at me with disinterest.
“Are you?” I asked as she walked up the drive towards me.
