Read an Excerpt

CHAPTER 1

New York

The one thing that stole her breath the most was his smile.

He had a killer smile. One that could make your heart skip a beat and, the next thing you knew, you were ready to drop to your knees, willing to do whatever he pleased. Of course, that wasn't the only icing on the cake. The man was tall, well built, and looked as if he was the incarnation of the Greek god Apollo swathed in a black Versace sport suit. He looked neither young nor old. Perhaps he was in his late thirties or early forties — a true eye-candy man women drooled over and secretly fantasised about when they made love to their husbands or boyfriends. And, as if he had cast a spell over her, his smile alone made Chelsea forget her line for a second.

"Hello, are you waiting for someone?" he asked.

Chelsea scrutinised him closer. He must be her rented date. But she thought he was slightly different from his snapshot she'd seen at Margo's office. This man had the same height. Same build. Same hair colour. Chelsea still wasn't sure about it. She felt there was something missing and couldn't quite put her finger on what. When Margo had shown the photos of her escorts, she'd been in a deep nervous wreck. Those handsome faces had begun to blur together after Margo had shown the fifth photo. Luckily, Margo had armed her with a password to identify each other. She cleared her throat and whispered, "Is love a tender thing? It is too rough ..."

The man blinked. Another smile followed. "Too rude, too boist'rous, and it pricks like thorn."

A surge of relief washed over her. The password matched. He was her date of the evening all right. "Well. You're early."

"Am I?" His smile deepened. His light brown eyes twinkled. His clean- cut sandy hair complemented his lightly tanned complexion, making him look too sophisticated to be a gigolo.

Chelsea glanced at her watch, forcing the growing anxiety into the back of her mind. The man stood closer than she would have preferred. She always felt uncomfortable when a man invaded her personal space, an annoying neurosis she tried to kick. "It's six forty-five. I was expecting you at seven. Shall we go up now?"

His eyebrows arched. "Up?"

"Or do you prefer to have dinner first?" Chelsea cast a glance at her surroundings. The butterflies in her stomach wouldn't go away. If this continued, she was afraid she was going to be nauseous and embarrass herself. "I personally would like to get this session ended before midnight. I have to catch an early plane tomorrow morning."

The man looked puzzled for a moment. Then a blank mask glossed over his face. "Sure."

"Fantastic."

They rode an elevator to the fifth floor where Margo had reserved a suite for the rendezvous. Chelsea fished the hotel keycard from her purse and slid it through the key reader of their reserved room. She pushed it open. The sight of ultimate luxury welcomed her. Chelsea was impressed. She didn't want to think how much this room would cost if she had to pay it from her own pocket.

Roxy Knight, her best friend and confidante, had given her a special gift for the anniversary of the day Chelsea was free from her abusive ex- husband, Dean. She didn't have deep pockets like Roxy, whose husband was a banker. After her bitter divorce and long months spent on an emotional rollercoaster, she was just starting over again. New town. New apartment. And, soon, a new job.

The hotel had given a complimentary fruit basket and a Champagne bucket. She turned to him, gripping the edge of the table to hide the creeping anxiety. "Would you like a glass of champagne?"

"I'll pour you some. Why don't you get yourself comfortable?"

"I am comfortable."

He smiled again. "Are you sure?"

"I'm sure." Chelsea sat on a chaise longue. He went to the table and uncorked the champagne and she wondered why a man like him would be doing a job like this. He didn't look like a gigolo at all. The man could easily be mistaken for a businessman from the way he carried himself. There was an air of arrogance in him. Elegance. Power. And dominance. And she knew all about power and dominance. Her ex Dean had been anything but. "What's your name?" she called out.

He poured two glasses of champagne and handed one to her. "What's yours?"

"Call me Anna." Chelsea took the glass and had a sip. She thought Anna was an appropriate name for spending a night with a total stranger like him. Generic name. Totally forgettable.

"Just Anna? Like Madonna or Cher, you just go by Anna?"

"Just Anna," she echoed. Margo said she didn't have to give out her personal information if she didn't feel comfortable with it.

He sat beside her. "I'm curious why you're being so secretive? Let me guess, you work for the government."

She snorted.

"A spook?"

"Funny guy, but let's cut to the chase, shall we?"

"Okay."

Chelsea took a deep breath and forced herself to say the words she'd rehearsed a hundreds time before. "I'm pretty vanilla, not really into kinky stuff. Not into pain. Not into icky stuff either. All in all, I'm an easy girl to please."

"I see."

"I ... uhm." Chelsea made an erratic gesture when words got jumbled in her throat. She quickly composed herself. "This sounds silly, but would you like to do it in bed, or do you think in here would be just fine?"

His sensuous lips twitched into an amused smile. "How about we start over? Let's begin with your full name first. I really want to know you ..." Her handsome date leaned closer. "Very intimately ..."

* * *

Sean Acosta couldn't believe what had happened to him in the past ten minutes. One second, he'd decided to walk up to a pretty woman's table to ask her if she was waiting for someone, and the next thing, she had mistaken him for a male prostitute. And all because he had accidentally answered her riddle. Who would think to pick a famous Shakespearean quote as a password? Shakespeare and Italian opera were his guilty pleasures.

Sean was torn.

If he explained who he really was, he was afraid she would freak out and take off. Or worse, if her date showed up, he'd never be able to see her again. She had been nervous and looked very cautious. It seemed picking up a gigolo wasn't her regular thing. Sean decided to play along. He didn't know what was wrong with him, but the moment he saw her, he knew he must have her. The impulse was overwhelming — he felt like an addict who had fallen off the wagon.

She gave him a wan smile, twirling her champagne. Her face flushed from the alcohol. Sean guessed she was a light drinker. Earlier, she had had a glass of martini that was half finished. Now she had had a couple of sips of champagne. Sean didn't want her drunk, so he grabbed her glass and put it on the coffee table. He inched closer. She smelt nice. Her perfume was tea rose, nothing fancy, but he liked it very much. Her own scent and the perfume made a heady combination. This woman was one intoxicating sweet delight.

"Now, your name?" Sean pressed.

She blinked. "Didn't Margo tell you?"

Margo, Sean noted. Must be the pimp. "No." He played along. "Margo just gave me the password and where to meet you."

"Ah."

"Well?"

"Well." She pondered as if divulging her name was a life-changing decision. "My name is Anna Carson. Yours?"

"Anna is a pretty name. What do you do?"

"You're asking a lot of questions. Are we going to fuck soon or is it going to be another boring interview?"

Sean laughed. "Has it been a while since you've been with a man?"

She let out a shy grin.

"Has it?"

"Why do you want to know?"

"Isn't that obvious?"

"I ... uhm. A year or so."

"That long?"

She shrugged. "Yeah."

"A beautiful woman like you? I find it hard to believe."

"I ... just ... recently divorced. Well, not recently. About a year ago, but I'm just starting over now. It's complicated."

His curiosity mounted by the second. "Was it another woman?"

A cringe broke over her pretty face. "No, no. He's in prison."

"Prison?" Sean hadn't expected to hear that.

"Do we have to talk about him? I'm really not comfortable with the subject."

"Forgive me. You're an enchanting woman. I wish to know more about you."

A tinge of blush reddened her cheeks. "There's nothing exciting about me."

But Sean found her exciting. He was a true believer of love at first sight. The moment he'd seen her, he'd found himself drawn to her like moth to fire. Pretending to be someone he wasn't was the most devious thing he'd done in life. But if he had to sacrifice his ethic in order to possess her, so by God he would.

"How about you? What's your name?"

"I'm Sean."

She cocked her head slightly, waiting for more.

"Sean for now."

"Tricky."

"Am I? I'm an open book if you tell me more about yourself. "

She pouted.

Sean fought the urge to plaster a deep kiss on those inviting lips. God, he loved everything about her. From her silky mocha complexion To how blue her eyes were. She was exotic, one of the most beautiful women he had ever seen in person. Her body was lush, buxom, generously curved in all the right places. The black cocktail dress she wore was shyly hiding her impressive cleavage, making his cock hard and his pulse race. The alpha male part of him was eager to unwrap her like a birthday gift. But he couldn't do that. Sean pushed the thoughts to the back of his mind. He wasn't planning on jumping her bones. Not tonight anyway. He was curious to know who she was and he wanted to talk her out to dinner or a movie or something. If everything went well, he wanted to straighten this misunderstanding and see her like they were a normal couple.

"Say, Sean. If you don't mind me asking, why would you get a job like this?"

A job like this? Oh, she meant as a male prostitute. "Why do you ask?"

"You don't look like a male escort at all. You look like ... a lawyer or an investment banker, or a hotshot executive. I know an expensive suit when I see one."

Sean swallowed his amusement in silence. She had almost guessed it right. He owned a successful engineering company in Chicago. The money was good, but his long work hours were gruelling too. After he'd become widowed, he hadn't been interested in putting himself in the dating game anymore. He had been so buried in work that finding another woman had been the least of his interests. On a few occasions, he'd taken some of his lady friends out for fancy dinners and nights in the town, but none of the casual outings had turned into anything meaningful. No woman had ever turned him on like his late wife Bethany had.

Until Anna.

"Some said I'm good company."

Her eyes sparkled. "No kidding."

"Scout's honour. If you don't mind, I'd like to suggest some activities for tonight's party."

"Like what?"

"I can get us a table at Le Cirque without a reservation. Maybe, after that, we could go catch a movie or something."

"I hired you to fuck."

"I'm sorry, but you don't look like you're ready for one."

Anna blanched. Then a flash of fear shimmered on her face. "You won't hurt me, will you?"

Shit. Had she been broken before? Was that the reason her ex-husband had ended up in prison? Sean leaned closer. "Never. I would never do such a thing to you, or to any woman. If you feel uncomfortable, I think we should just go out and enjoy the night. I'm up for whatever you're into."

"I can't afford you for more than one date. You're expensive."

Sean blanched in return. He was expensive? Seriously? "I really like you, Anna. I wish I could be something more personal than just your client." Now he felt like a dopey gigolo. A real one would never say something idiotic like that, would he? Sean secretly hoped she wouldn't notice he wasn't her real date.

Anna's eyes widened. She slowly shook her head. "No. This is a one- time thing. I must do this."

One-time thing? He didn't think so. "Listen, Anna —"

"Please." She took one deep breath as if she wanted to suck in all the air in the room. "Give me ... Give me a minute ..."

* * *

Chelsea knew this man wasn't her asshole ex-husband, but she guessed it was hard to shed an old habit. Dean's abuse had made her wary of men. She admitted she was doing better than she was a year ago. But somehow the unwanted emotional scar lingered. And as much as she wanted to put the past behind, that pesky fear had crippled her social life.

She became paranoid if a man came too close invading her personal space. She flinched and instinctively shielded her face each time a man made a sudden movement towards her. One time, a stranger had grabbed her arm to pull her from the oncoming traffic and she'd found herself hysterical on the sidewalk. It was embarrassing. Chelsea had had enough. She didn't want to be scared anymore. One of these days, she would have to face her fear, and that day was now.

Her gaze drifted to Sean's hand. His hands were large, smooth looking, with neatly trimmed nails. They looked like hands of a civil man. No ring on there. Unlike Dean who had worn a Navy class ring on his right hand, its eagle insignia stamping all over her body during the course of their marriage. Whenever Dean had wanted to keep her toes in line, he'd preferred to hit her where people couldn't see. That way, he didn't have to justify himself to anybody. Disciplining his wife had been his right as a husband according to Dean because she was one little uppity cunt who didn't seem to understand how to put herself in her place no matter how hard he'd tried to teach her. After a while, she had begun to believe everything Dean had drilled into her skull. She'd tried to be his perfect wife, but Dean was impossible to please. Especially when he was drunk. He was one hell of a mean drunk. One day, he'd gone a little too far and beat her senseless. Chelsea wouldn't have pressed charges if he had taken her to hospital right away. But he hadn't. If it hadn't been for a neighbour who had reported the domestic disturbance to the police, Dean would have left her to die.

Chelsea drew a deep breath and forced herself to touch Sean's hand. He didn't try to move. His eyes flooded with concern as if he was beginning to understand her inner struggle. Unexpectedly, touching him brought her comfort. His warmth soothed her. A slither of courage found its way into her. She squeezed his hand.

Bravely.

"Anna," Sean whispered and slowly lifted his other hand in front of her. He seemed to want to reassure her he meant no harm. "If you allow me, I want to touch you."

Touch her. With affection, she supposed. Not Dean's style of touch that meant she would have bruises to explain to the neighbours.

Chelsea managed a tiny nod. She went still as Sean gently cupped her face and brushed his thumb over her lips. More comforting warmth embraced her. She watched him, couldn't help but feel wonder. Awe. Her rented date was truly different from Dean. Sean had intense but kind eyes. One look and she felt she could trust him with her life.

He took her other hand and squeezed it gently. "Anna, I don't think you're ready for this. Please consider my offer. Le Cirque has some really excellent desserts to die for."

For a moment she struggled with his offer. Tempted. Her tongue felt like it had been glued on to the roof her mouth. "No. I must do this."

"You don't have to."

"I need to prove myself."

"What are you trying to prove?"

"I don't want to be scared anymore."

His eyebrows furrowed. "You're scared of me?"

"No. It's just men in general. Especially when they invade my personal space."

"Was it because of your ex? Did he hurt you? Is that why he's in prison?"

"Silly, isn't it?"

"No, this is serious. You should see a therapist."

"I did."

"And?"

"I realised that sooner or later I have to face my own demons."

"Face your own demons?" He looked stunned. "And you hired me for this very purpose?"

"Actually, that was my friend's idea," Chelsea admitted. "Sex therapy. She thinks every problem on earth can be solved with orgasms."

A thin smile broke out on his handsome face. Sean brought her hands to his lips. He kissed her palms, her knuckles, her fingers, as if he wanted to give her reassurance that he would never do whatever her monster ex-husband had done to her. The words were unspoken, but the message was clear. He would never hurt her.

Strangely, Chelsea believed him.

"I want to hold you," he whispered.

Chelsea hesitated, then she forced herself to surrender into his welcoming embrace. It wasn't as hard as she thought, allowing a man into her personal space. Although she didn't realise she was shivering until Sean wrapped her body tightly and murmured soft endearments.

"Come closer." He wanted her to sit in his lap.

"I ... I'm too heavy."

"Nonsense. You're perfect."

---

Excerpted from "Private Sessions"
by .
Copyright © 2011 Lizzie Lynn Lee.
Excerpted by permission of Totally Entwined Group Limited.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.

---