A 21st Century Courtesan by Eden Bradley Read Free Book Online

late September evening cool for us weather-spoiled Los Angelenos. Out of habit I've arrived early, as I always do for a client.
    He's not a client.
    A small, inexplicable thrill ripples over my skin at the thought.
    God, I'm fucked up.
    I've gone ahead and ordered a drink, one of their exotic martinis made with saki and lychee juice. Tapping my fingernails against the stem of the glass, I check out the room. There are only a few couples seated in the bar. It's early for the Hollywood crowd. Thursday evenings are party nights in this town; the real action won't begin until after ten.
    I sip my drink, carefully set it back on the small paper napkin on the sleek black table. I'm a little chilly. Or maybe it's nerves.
    Checking my watch, I see it's still early: five minutes to seven. I should have made a grand entrance, been fashionably late. But old habits die hard.
    I tap my nails against the table, notice it and make myself stop. Maybe I should go to the ladies' room, refresh my lipstick?
    “Valentine.”
    That pure pleasure in his voice again, as there was on the phone. It makes my heart pound, makes me hot all over.
    I turn and smile at him. “Hi.”
    He takes my hand, lifts it, and as I stare like some sort of idiot, he brushes his lips over my knuckles. Heat shimmers up my arm, burrows deep into my body. I'm as wet as if his mouth were between my thighs.
    Jesus. Can't even think about that now.
    “You look beautiful,” he says, smiling. Fucking gorgeous,that smile. Absolutely devastating. “Even better than I remembered.”
    I know I look good. I dressed very carefully in my black crocheted dress. It took me forever to pick my outfit, which is totally unlike me. I wanted something elegant but sexy. Short but not too short. Fitted but not too tight. I don't normally dress like a whore, anyway. I always take care with my appearance, and let's not waste any time considering ego here; this is my job. But tonight it feels nice that he noticed.
    That
he
noticed.
    “Thank you.” I cross my legs, an unconsciously seductive move that I am aware of only after I've done it. But my sex is aching with need already. I can hardly stand to look at him.
    He's wearing a pair of black slacks that hang perfectly on his hips, a midnight blue shirt with some tiny, subtle pattern in black. Beneath the collar I notice a narrow chain in silver, or maybe platinum. His watch is a heavy silver Rolex.
    I take in all of this in an instant. I am trained to assess a man. I like everything I see. But it's his smile that leaves me breathless, his eyes that make me yearn to touch him.
    He orders a cold bottle of the Suishin Tenjomukyu sake without looking at the menu, an excellent choice. The waitress brings it quickly, eyeing Joshua as she sets the bottle on the table, arranges his cup, his napkin. I can't blame her. He is nearly gleaming, all raw male beauty. Or perhaps that's only my own warped perception, seen through the haze of my obsession with this man.
    I shift, uncross and recross my legs.
    “I'm glad you came,” Joshua tells me.
    “So am I,” I answer, although I'm not really sure yet. What is this going to mean for me later, when I have to go home alone and frustrated? Empty.
    He leans forward, fills his cup, sips it, sets it back clown. I can't tear my gaze from his hands. They're strong-looking, with long, agile fingers. I bite my lip when he leans closer. “Tell me about yourself, Valentine.”
    “I'd rather talk about you.”
    Oh, yes, I'd rather talk about anything else but myself.
    “Not every man on the planet is entirely narcissistic, you know.” He's grinning at me, a lovely, crooked grin, and I notice then that he has a small scar at the corner of his lower lip.
    I can't help but smile back at him. He is charming in some old-fashioned way, and I love it. “Maybe not. But I'd really like to know about you. I'm intrigued by a man who will indulge his mother by taking her to the opera.”
    “Ah, you think I'm a momma's