One Foolish Night (Eternal Bachelors Club #4)

She lifted her head and smiled at him. “The little time I did, yes.”


Paul chuckled. “Would you have preferred that I let you sleep more instead of engaging in . . . other activities?”

Holly shook her blond locks, tickling his chest with it. “You know the answer to that. You wouldn’t by chance be fishing for compliments, would you?”

“I don’t need to. Seeing you climax is compliment enough.”

For a moment she looked at him without saying anything. Then her lips parted. “Thank you. I had a wonderful night.” She lifted herself off him.

Reluctantly, he released her. But he had no intention of letting her go. “There’s a place nearby that serves a great brunch right at the beach. What do you say? May I take you there?”

She sat up and turned to look back at him. “You want to go for brunch?”

“Yes. Aren’t you hungry?”

“I guess I am. Do you mind if I take a quick shower?”

Paul pointed to the door of the ensuite bathroom. “Be my guest.”

She got out of bed, giving him a splendid view of her bare ass.

“And after brunch, we’re coming back here,” he added.

Holly stopped in her tracks and looked over her shoulder. “Haven’t you had enough yet?”

Pointedly, he ran his eyes over her naked body, wanting to make her aware of how much he desired her. “I doubt I can ever get enough of you, Holly. Now go take a shower before I change my mind about brunch and drag you back into bed immediately.”

With a soft laugh, Holly disappeared into the bathroom and shut the door behind her. Moments later he heard the shower come on.

Paul dropped his head back into the pillow and stared at the ceiling. Had he really just said that to her? That he didn’t think he could get enough of her? He’d never been this demonstrative with his feelings, preferring to keep them close to his vest.

Feelings? Fuck, he couldn’t have feelings—it was lust that was driving him. Pure lust. It couldn’t be anything else.

And just to prove that sexual desire was all that was involved here, he would follow her into the shower and fuck her in there, instead of playing the sweet, lovesick fool who pleasured her but didn’t take his own pleasure in return.

Paul swung his feet to the floor when he heard the annoying pinging sound of a cell phone. He’d never bothered to change the default ringtone that announced a text message. Bending down, he reached for his phone and looked at the display.



Don’t think you can just abandon the agency! One of your regulars has requested you for a booking this weekend. If you don’t show up here and spend Saturday night with him, you’re gonna be in trouble.



The words made no sense. What booking? What client? He couldn’t recall having an appointment the following weekend. Scratching his head, Paul glanced at the sender’s name. Misty, it said, before the screen went black again.

He knew nobody by the name of Misty.

Impatient, he swiped over the screen and entered his four-digit password, but the phone didn’t unlock. Instead, it buzzed and vibrated, prompting him to reenter his password.

That’s when he realized it: This was Holly’s phone, not his.

Paul set it on the nightstand, but as much as he tried to, he couldn’t forget the message. What client? What booking? What agency?

Maybe if there hadn’t been a scandal about Sabrina, Daniel’s wife, being wrongly accused of being a call girl, his mind wouldn’t even go in that direction, but with things being as they were, he couldn’t help but connect the words of the text message and let his imagination wander.

He’d never asked Holly what she did for a living. Nor had David or Sabrina ever mentioned it in passing. What kind of agency did Holly work for? An agency who booked clients on the weekend. At night. No, not just that, but overnight. The message had clearly said that Holly had to spend the night with a client. A male client.

Fuck! Did this mean what he thought it meant? Was it possible, or was his imagination taking him on a wild ride?

He ran a hand through his hair and noticed he was trembling. Shit! There was only one way to interpret this message: Holly was a call girl. A prostitute. A hooker.

“No,” he murmured to himself. It couldn’t be true. This couldn’t be happening to him.

Had he just spent the most amazing night of his life with a prostitute?

Had he gone down on a hooker and licked and sucked her as if there were no tomorrow? Pleasured her and worshipped her as if she were a goddess?

The door to the bathroom opened, pulling him from his thoughts. His head whirled in its direction, and he watched Holly step out, a towel wrapped around her torso, covering her body from the top of her breasts to the top of her thighs. If she turned and bent down, he would be able to see her ass.

“All done,” she said with a smile. “You were right. I’m famished right now.”

Suddenly, the cell phone pinged once more—a second reminder that there was a text message waiting. His phone had the same feature.