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“I’m not being paranoid. I’m just doing what our mother asked me to do. Looking after you.”
When Clay rolled his eyes at this and once again launched into his you’re-my-brother-not-my-father speech, Callum stopped arguing with him. After all, Clay was technically right. He wasn’t his father, though he’d felt like one ever since their real father had walked out on his family when Clay had been barely two months old. Callum—six, at the time—had suddenly found himself the man of the house, a role which he’d shouldered to the best of his ability. He’d been more father than brother to Clay for all of his life, a role which Clay obviously resented.
But someone had to keep an eye on the boy. Clay was far too good-looking for his own good. And not worldly-wise enough, in Callum’s opinion. Survival in the modeling—and acting—world required a level head on your shoulders. And a degree of maturity Callum had yet to see in his kid brother.
So here he was, still keeping an eye on him. Clay was no longer strutting his stuff as a male model, courtesy of a new agent who’d been getting him some real acting work, both on TV and in the movies. He’d been all good news over the phone the last few months. Not quite so chirpy yesterday, however, when Callum had phoned to let him know his estimated time of arrival.
Callum jerked his luggage trolley to a halt. Was that what had been niggling away at his subconscious during the flight home? Had his big-brother antenna instinctively tuned into some problem Clay had been trying to hide from him?
“You got a problem there, buddy?”
Callum took a second or two to realize that the customs officer was talking to him.
“Nope,” he returned, and pushed his trolley up to the customs desk.
“At least I sure hope not,” he muttered under his breath shortly after as he made his way down the walkway toward the arrivals terminal.
Clay was there, waiting for him, which was a surprise in itself, given it was seven o’clock on a Saturday morning. Early rising was not one of Clay’s virtues. Neither was being on time for unimportant things such as picking up his brother at the airport.
When Clay smiled, waved, and rushed over to him, Callum’s suspicion increased. This was a welcome fit for a pop star, or a big brother who needed sucking up to.
“Great to see you again, bro,” Clay greeted, throwing his arms around him and giving him a big hug.
“Great to see you, too,” Callum returned, drawing back to inspect his brother’s face closely for signs of dissipation and drugs. Fortunately, that didn’t seem to be the trouble. Clay was looking fit and healthy, his blue eyes as clear and bright as a cloudless summer sky.
Callum ran a few other possible problems through his mind. Clay had borrowed and crashed his big brother’s prized car? Run up a colossal phone bill? Gotten one of his girlfriends pregnant?
Surely that wasn’t the case. If there was one thing Callum had drummed into his kid brother it was the need for safe sex. Given the dubious circles he was now moving in, using protection was more important than ever. Callum had stressed this the last few times he’d been home.
“Man, but you’re looking good,” Clay complimented him with what Callum felt was decidedly false enthusiasm. Clay never gave a damn what he looked like. “Fantastic tan. Working in Hawaii agreed with you. Bet you’re sorry you’re all finished up there now.”
“Nope,” Callum said, more and more sure that something was up with his brother. “I’m always glad to move on.”
Which was true.
Callum loved his work as a traveling trouble-shooter for INCON, an American company which specialized in building shopping malls all over the world. He thrived on the challenges the job presented, finding great satisfaction in solving whatever engineering problems needed to be solved. But he also liked the constant changes in his lifestyle, the living in different places and meeting different people.
Most guys his age—he would turn thirty-one next birthday—started looking to settle down in one place, get married, have a family.
But that was not for him. Not ever.
“So where to next time?” Clay asked, keeping up his uncharacteristic chitchat about Callum’s life. Usually, the only person he talked about was himself. “What fabulous part of the world are they sending you off to next?”
“Don’t know yet. I have to go back to head office in San Francisco first.”
“When will that be?”
Callum wondered why that mattered. “A week from Tuesday,” he said. “Don’t worry, if you have to work that day, I can always catch a taxi to the airport.”
“No, no. No sweat. Tuesdays are always fine.” He flashed Callum one of his winning smiles. “So what are you going to do for the next ten days? Paint Sydney red?”
Callum knew his brother was mocking him. Clay thought he was a stick-in-the-mud, but Clay didn’t know him at all. Not the real him. He only knew the persona Callum adopted in his role as big-brother-cum-father-figure. He was a different person when he was away, when he wasn’t burdened by the feeling he had to set a good example for his brother, especially where the opposite sex was concerned. Clay would be very surprised if he knew the real facts of his brother’s private life.
“Not this time,” he replied dryly. “Between catching up on sleep and doing some surfing, I thought I might look around and buy myself another investment property. Got a pretty nice bonus last week.”
“No kidding. If you don’t watch out, you’ll own half of Sydney soon. Who would have imagined that being an engineer would pay so well? Still, being a Hollywood icon pays better,” Clay added with a grin. “When I’m making fifty mill a movie, I’ll buy myself one of those fancy harborside mansions. You know, the ones with the pool, the tennis court and their own private yacht mooring.”
“Speaking of your becoming a Hollywood icon,” Callum said as he swung his luggage trolley around and started heading for the exit. “Are things still going reasonably well in the acting department? I didn’t have time to ask you yesterday.”
“Yes and no. The character I was playing in that soap got canned and directors keep telling me at movie auditions that I’m too good-looking. But things could be about to look up.”
“In what way?”
“I’m going to this party tonight being thrown in honor of some visiting big boys from Hollywood. They’re out here, searching for a young Aussie hunk to play the lead in their new blockbuster movie. Harry said I was just the type they were looking for and wangled an invitation so that they can see me in person. This particular director and producer have a reputation for ‘finding’ their stars in unconventional ways, not at formal auditions.”
“In that case, you won’t be the only handsome young Aussie actor who just happens to be there tonight, Clay. I hope you realize that.”
“For crying out loud, do you ever get off being negative about my career? Look, I know the competition is tough, especially in Hollywood. I know the odds are stacked against me. But I still have to go for it. It’s what I’ve always wanted to do, bro. Always. I know you think I’m just a pretty face but I’m a damned good actor too. Harry says I have what it takes, and Harry should know. He’s represented the best.”
“Okay, okay, don’t get touchy. And I’m not being negative. I’m just being…”
“Bloody overprotective, as usual. Like I’ve always said, you’re my brother, Cal, not my…”
“Father,” Callum finished for him ruefully. “Yes, yes, I know. So tell me some more about these Hollywood big boys. Who are they and what have they done and no, I’m not being nosy, just showing an interest.”
In the five minutes it took to make their way from the terminal to where Callum’s thankfully uncrashed car was parked, Clay never shut up long enough to draw breath. For the first time, Callum witnessed his brother’s true passion for the film industry. He knew every movie this producer and director had collaborated on in minute detail, along with their personal backgrounds and future goals.
Callum began to finally understand that nothing was going to dissuade Clay from pursuing his dream, certainly not any of his warnings.
“You’re really looking forward to going to this party tonight, aren’t you?”
“You could say that,” Clay replied. “If anything happened to stop me going, I don’t know what I’d do.”
Callum realized then what was bothering his brother.
It was just tension over this party.
“What could possibly stop you from going?” he asked as he loaded his three large suitcases into the trunk of his car. With the job finished in Hawaii, he’d had to bring everything home with him.
CLAY LOOKED OVER at his big brother and knew he was going to have a fit when he told him about his problem. Callum’s reaction to his doing some male modeling had been bad enough. He was going to hit the roof when he found out his precious little brother had been working as an escort!
But he had to tell him; had to ask him to take his place, just for tonight. There was no other way. If he called the agency and canceled at this late stage his name would be mud. He also needed the money. He’d run up quite a bill on his credit card this last month, buying new clothes, first a tux for his escorting work, and then some seriously cool gear for this party tonight.
On top of that, as wimpish as it sounded, he didn’t want to disappoint his client. She’d sounded really nice when he’d called her on Thursday night to find out what was required of him.
Unfortunately, his client’s requirements presented an added problem, other than the obvious. Clay knew he’d have had no trouble pretending to be this girl’s boyfriend at her class reunion. He viewed each of his escorting dates as opportunities to hone his acting skills. Callum, however, would balk at such a ruse. He was hard pushed to pretend anything in life. He was a straight shooter, was Callum, and as stuffy as could be. Clay wondered sometimes if his big brother even had a sex life, though he supposed he did. Callum was one hell of a good-looking guy in that tall rugged mould. Lots of women would be attracted to his good looks, and his impressively fit body. It was just that he rarely dated when he came home, and never talked about women and sex the way other guys did.
Getting him to go on a date as a paid escort and a pretend boyfriend at the same time was not going to be easy. On the plus side, Clay knew that his brother loved him and would do anything for him, within reason. He just had to make it all sound both respectable and reasonable.
“The problem is I have to work tonight.”
Callum slammed the trunk shut, then glanced up, his dark brows drawn together over his deeply set blue eyes. “I thought you said you didn’t have any acting work at the moment.”
“I don’t.”
Callum groaned. “Oh, no, not more modeling work.”
“No. Nothing like that.”
“Then what?”
Clay crossed his fingers behind his back. “I’ve been working as a professional escort, and I have a pre-booked, pre-paid date tonight. I…er…was hoping you could take my place so that I could still go to the party.”
Clay almost laughed at the look on his brother’s face. Boy, was it a classic! He immediately slotted it into his acting memory bank for future reference, so that when a director told him to express shock, disgust, disbelief and indignant outrage all at the same time, he’d know exactly how to do it.
“Before you blow a fuse, bro,” Clay went on hastily when he saw his brother’s hands curl into fists, “let me point out that there are several groups of people close by in this carpark. I’ll hardly make a good impression on my Hollywood big boys if I turn up tonight with a split lip and a black eye.”
“I wasn’t going to hit you,” Callum bit out. “Though you need hitting, you stupid fool. My God, whatever possessed you? Silly question,” he muttered under his breath. “I suppose it was for the money. But surely you couldn’t have needed money that badly that you’d virtually prostitute yourself for it.”
“Hey, get off your high horse there. Being an escort is not synonymous with being a prostitute. I work for a very reputable agency called Gentlemen Partners, and sex is definitely not part of the service provided.”
“That’s not the general view.”
“Then the general view is wrong,” Clay refuted firmly, though his mind did fly to that one date a couple of weeks back. He’d not only ended up in bed with the woman but the next morning she’d pressed an embarrassing amount of money into his hands, all because of some stupid joke he’d made when he’d brought her home the night before. He hadn’t known what to do at the time. In the end, he’d just taken it and left.
Naturally, he wasn’t about to mention that one unfortunate incident to Callum.
His brother still looked furious. “Tell that to the gossip mags if you ever get your name up in bright lights and they find out what you once did for a living!”
“You think I haven’t thought of that? Why do you think I use a false name?”
Callum could not believe his brother’s naiveté. What was a name when he had a face like his? So strikingly handsome and so very memorable. Maybe this escort agency he worked for was extremely respectable, but a lot of those places weren’t. And mud did stick.
“How long have you been doing this?” Callum demanded to know. “How many of these…dates…have you been on?”
“Only half a dozen or so. I don’t know what you’re getting so het up about. It’s an ideal job. I can earn money at night and still have my days free to call on casting agencies and go for auditions.”
“Only ideal if you never make it big in Hollywood,” Callum pointed out. “You keep telling me you are going to make it big in Hollywood, aren’t you?”
“Too right I am.”
“Then I’ll make a deal with you. I’ll stand in for you tonight if you quit the agency tomorrow and find some other line of work. Something which won’t ever find its way into a gossip column. Fair enough?”
“Fair enough,” Clay agreed, and beamed at his brother. “Thanks, bro. You’re the best!”
Callum smiled a wry smile. Clay was always particularly agreeable after he got his own way. Or when Callum rescued him from whatever trouble he’d got himself into. In the past, Callum had stood up for his kid brother more times than he’d had hot dinners, but this was the first time he’d stood in for him.
One day, Callum hoped and prayed, he’d stop being his brother’s keeper. But not yet, obviously.
“Keys,” he said, holding out his hand.
“Ah, come on, bro, let me drive it home. I won’t speed. I promise.”
“No way, Jose. On the way home, you can tell me all about this stupid date I’m going on tonight. Where, what, when and who with? Which reminds me, what name is it you use for your escorting work? I suppose I’ll have to use it too.”
“Beau Grainger,” his brother said, grinning.
Callum winced. The things he had to do!
3
JOSIE LAY BACK in the bubble-filled bathtub, trying to relax and not think about the night ahead. Because there was no going back now. The deed had been done. She’d already hired the guy. Paid for him, too, with her credit card.
Not that she really wanted to back out of the idea. Kay had been right. It was the only way that she could go to the reunion and save her pride.
But it was a bold thing to do. And kind of scary. Beau Grainger might be a good actor and very adept at pretending to be a boyfriend. He’d obviously done a good job as a boy-toy lover. But could she successfully pretend to be his girlfriend?
She’d only spoken to him briefly the other night and while he’d seemed quite nice, she didn’t know anything about him except that he was twenty-four, and an out-of-work actor. They would have to exchange quite a few more details about each other and each others’ families on the drive from here to Elizabeth Bay, then invent a more suitably successful career for him, because Amber was sure to give her and her “boyfriend” the third degree.
Josie began to worry about that third degree. What if they slipped up and Amber twigged that their relationship was a charade? Even worse, what if someone there recognized Beau from another of his escorting jobs? When she thought about it, the idea was fraught with flaws and possible failings. Whatever had possessed her to agree to Kay’s urgings?
Was it too late to cancel?
People probably canceled at the last minute all the time. But Kay was going to call her in the morning to see how things went. Having to tell her she’d pulled out was not on.
No, it was all systems go and there was no point in worrying about it anymore. In less than three hours, she’d be arriving at her class reunion on Beau Grainger’s arm, and that was that.
Feeling better for her self-lecture, Josie leaned forward through the vanilla-scented bubbles and reached for the magazine resting on the side of the tub. It was one of those glossy women’s magazines which featured sex on every second page, alongside pictures of skinny models in unflattering poses.
Lisa had given this one to her last Wednesday night. Both Josie’s roommates were addicted to the things, especially the advice columns, which had letters from girls with even more pathetic relationships than they had. They claimed reading about other females’ miseries and mistakes made them feel better. However, Josie could really identify with that this week and was flipping over the pages to find the advice column first when her eyes were caught by the sealed section in the middle—that had been torn open!
STARTLING RESULTS OF OUR RECENT SEX SURVEY, the banner headline screamed. Then underneath, SEE WHAT IT IS WOMEN REALLY WANT!
Josie recalled Lisa mentioning that particular article when she’d handed over the magazine. Of course, men and sex were Lisa and Deb’s staple subjects of conversation, especially over drinks.
“Talk about hot stuff!” Lisa had exclaimed after downing her third cocktail. “But it makes you think. I mean…there are women out there actually getting that kind of thing. Amazing! I wish I could find a guy who’d deliver half of what’s listed in that survey.”
“Half!” Deb had crowed. “I’d settle for a quarter!”
Josie’s curiosity had been aroused at the time and she’d meant to read the article when she got home that night. But she’d just been too tired. She and Kay had been working extra hard all week, preparing then painting the walls of the apartment. By the time she’d arrived home after spending a couple of hours in a bar with her friends, she’d just collapsed into bed. Not even reading about unbelievably hot sex would have kept her awake.
But what better subject to get her mind off worrying about tonight? Josie had always enjoyed reading about sex. As a teenager, she’d devoured every sexy book she could find, living in avid anticipation of experiencing the joy of sex for real. Since reality hadn’t delivered any actual joy so far, Josie figured she could at least have some vicarious pleasure via the pen, as opposed to the sword, so to speak!
Smiling wryly at her clever pun, Josie lifted her elbows onto the sides of the tub, leaned her head carefully back onto the folded towel she’d placed there earlier, and started to read.
The whole article, she quickly realized, was devoted to a series of top ten lists. They started off pretty tamely, the first list being the top ten sexiest guys in the world, followed by the top ten sexiest guys in Australia. All quite predictable, filled with well-known movie stars, singers and sportsmen.
None set Josie’s heart a-thudding. She had her own idea of what the sexiest guy in the world would be like for her and it had nothing to do with those high-profile men. Her dream man was far more accessible. Far more real. He didn’t have to be drop-dead handsome, just reasonably attractive, with a well-built body, a well-stoked libido and a fertile imagination.
