Night Life

By S.J. Hartsfield

*Love doesn’t keep business hours.*

Ronnie Kent has been an executive escort for a long time. She knows the lines, the moves, and she definitely knows better than to fall for a client. But when she’s hired for a night with the gorgeous, mysterious Diana Silver, her professionalism can’t hold a candle to the heat between them.

Diana Silver is already overworked and undervalued by her wealthy parents, and now they’re pressuring her to date a “suitable” colleague. Hiring an escort would never have occurred to her, but when her best friend treats her to a relaxing night with Ronnie, sparks fly.

Diana hires Ronnie again. And again. Soon, the women don’t have an arrangement so much as a full-blown affair. But money can’t buy everything, and Ronnie can’t risk blurring the lines between personal and professional, no matter the reward. It’ll take more than a healthy paycheck to turn their steamy nights into a life together—and if they try, it could cost them everything.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Riptide Publishing
• Release date: Sep 14, 2020
• ISBN: 9781626498884

Book preview

Riptide Publishing

PO Box 1537

Burnsville, NC 28714

www.riptidepublishing.com

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. All person(s) depicted on the cover are model(s) used for illustrative purposes only.

Night Life

Copyright © 2020 by S.J. Hartsfield

Smashwords Edition

Cover art: L.C. Chase, lcchase.com

Editors: Stella Li, Carole-ann Galloway

Layout: L.C. Chase, lcchase.com

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without the written permission of the publisher, and where permitted by law. Reviewers may quote brief passages in a review. To request permission and all other inquiries, contact Riptide Publishing at the mailing address above, at Riptidepublishing.com, or at [e-mail].

ISBN: 978-1-62649-888-4

First edition

September, 2020

Also available in paperback:

ISBN: 978-1-62649-889-1

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Love doesn’t keep business hours.

Ronnie Kent has been an executive escort for a long time. She knows the lines, the moves, and she definitely knows better than to fall for a client. But when she’s hired for a night with the gorgeous, mysterious Diana Silver, her professionalism can’t hold a candle to the heat between them.

Diana Silver is already overworked and undervalued by her wealthy parents, and now they’re pressuring her to date a suitable colleague. Hiring an escort would never have occurred to her, but when her best friend treats her to a relaxing night with Ronnie, sparks fly.

Diana hires Ronnie again. And again. Soon, the women don’t have an arrangement so much as a full-blown affair. But money can’t buy everything, and Ronnie can’t risk blurring the lines between personal and professional, no matter the reward. It’ll take more than a healthy paycheck to turn their steamy nights into a life together—and if they try, it could cost them everything.

About Night Life

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Epilogue

Dear Reader

Acknowledgments

About the Author

More Like This

Ronnie was standing in the produce section at Short’s Grocery when her phone buzzed. She pulled it from her bra and checked the screen: Night Life. Must be a job. This is Ronnie.

Hey, a familiar voice said.

Hey, Stacy. Ronnie palmed a cantaloupe and studied it. You would not believe the melons I’m looking at right now.

Gross.

For the scheduling manager of an escort service, Stacy sure didn’t have much of a sense of humor.

Wanna hear something weird?

Always, Ronnie said, replacing the cantaloupe and wandering toward the fresh herbs. They never seemed to have good basil here, but it was worth a shot.

Okay, so you know how, usually, whoever schedules the meet has to be there in person?

Ronnie frowned at the herbs as a fine mist of water began to spray on them. No basil. Figures. Yeah . . .?

Not so much with this job.

Uh.

I know, but hear me out. One of our regulars called—the bouncy one you’ve heard some of the boys talk about? She called and asked for our hottest blonde.

Ronnie laughed. So of course you came to me.

Of course.

She chose to ignore the note of irony in Stacy’s voice.

Anyway, Stacy continued, she’s got some friend who could apparently use your expertise. Karla talked to her personally, and I don’t know what went down, but they agreed on it.

Let me guess, Ronnie said, leaning on the handle of her cart. Karla’s getting extra money out of the deal.

Oh for sure. More than you, even.

That doesn’t seem fair. It’d be great to know exactly how much she’d end up with, but Stacy couldn’t get into that over the phone. Company policy was a pain in the ass sometimes.

Yeah, well. If you feel like getting gift wrapped for a stressed-out rich girl, come in and look over the paperwork. If you think it’s too sketch, you can always turn it down.

That was true. Sure, she’d never turned down a job before, but it was an option. Although, if this paycheck was as flush as Stacy made it sound, she suspected Karla would strongly suggest she take it.

And anyway, a couple of things about it appealed to her.

It wasn’t just the money—that sure didn’t hurt, and being considered Night Life’s hottest blonde was a big plus too. But she also enjoyed being someone’s first escort. It made her feel memorable, and she did like being memorable.

She’d also never been with a client who hadn’t arranged the job themselves. The idea of being given to someone sent a pleasant shiver down her spine. I’ll be in around four, she decided. See you then.

She ended the call, and swung her cart around. No basil meant no homemade pesto tonight. Time to see how disappointing the premade options looked.

The offer wound up being way more than Ronnie had ever pulled for a single night, even after Karla’s considerable cut. Ronnie would never be able to live with herself if she said no: the pay was too good and the job too intriguing.

So, two nights later, she was standing outside the Hotel Öde, dressed to thrill and looking hot to death. Her short hair was artfully tousled and swept away from her angular face, and she’d paired smoky shadow with a nude lipstick to emphasize her eyes. She didn’t wear this suit often, but maybe she should—it hugged her long-limbed frame enticingly beneath her gray pea coat, the white shirt left open at the collar to expose her throat.

Worth every penny.

As she was pulling out her phone to check the time, she caught movement from the corner of her eye and glanced down the sidewalk to see a woman in a dark blue overcoat approaching her. Ronnie checked the clock on her lock screen. Right on time.

The next thing she knew, the woman was at her elbow, breath visible in the February air. Are you Ronnie?

Ronnie slipped her phone back into her coat and turned. Time to get to work.

Her interest was captured instantly. The woman was stunning, with dark brown hair that framed her open face and brushed past her collar in soft curls. She was watching Ronnie with clear blue eyes, her expression a frank mixture of curiosity and caution. Ronnie couldn’t remember ever finding a client so attractive.

But she’d been an escort for a long time. She knew better than to get flustered. So all she said was, You must be Diana.

That was the name Stacy had given her, at least. As a precaution, clients and escorts started out on a first-name basis, and they never saw each other’s legal names in print; contracts were kept completely separate from one another to preserve privacy on both ends of the exchange. Some escorts gave aliases—some clients did too—but others were honest. Ronnie wondered whether Diana’s friend had bothered.

With a tentative smile of recognition, Diana said, I’m sorry about all this. She had one hand in the pocket of her coat, the other clutching at the collar. My friend Phoebe seemed to think I needed . . . Well, she said you’d been paid in advance and the room was already booked, and I’d hate for it all to go to waste.

Sure. Ronnie nodded. Easy does it. She tilted her head toward the hotel’s door. You wanna go in?

Diana’s eyes flitted to the entrance, then back to Ronnie. She hesitated for a second, drawing a sharp breath before answering. Yes. Then she turned and strode inside, her kitten heels clicking against the pavement. Ronnie followed.

The Hotel Öde was thoroughly modern, with concrete floors, white walls, and recessed lighting. Ronnie had been here on jobs in the past, and the whole place always had a distinctly Scandinavian feel, like IKEA in a tuxedo. As they passed the tall waterfall in the center of the lobby, Diana pulled a slim clutch from her coat and turned to Ronnie.

I’ll need to check in. Will you wait for me by the elevator?

I can do that.

Diana looked her up and down, quick enough that it might have been accidental. Maybe. Would you like something to drink?

I never say no to a sweet red wine, Ronnie said with a grin. But I’ll take anything you wanna give me. She hadn’t meant for that last part to sound like an innuendo, but there it was.

One of Diana’s brows quirked, her eyes darkening. Then her lips parted, and for a hot second, Ronnie thought she might pick up the double entendre and run with it.

Instead, she closed her mouth and cast Ronnie a brief smile before clipping away.

Rats. Ronnie sighed and ambled toward the elevators. This is weird, she mused as she leaned against the brushed-silver doors, watching Diana chat with the front desk attendant. First-timers usually can’t wait to get their hands on me. I guess she did say she only showed up for her friend’s sake, but . . .

But nothing. There had definitely been heat in Diana’s gaze, both outside and just now before she walked off. She looked at Ronnie like she wanted to swallow her whole, but seemed to be holding herself back.

Which is a shame, Ronnie thought, her eyes roaming the other woman’s form. She wouldn’t mind seeing what happened if Diana cut loose.

Still, she was a professional, and Diana was the client. They’d do whatever Diana wanted to.

Even if that meant Ronnie had worn her favorite lingerie for nothing.

She realized then that Diana was walking back across the lobby, bottle of wine in hand, eyes trained on her face. There was something intimate about the way she pinned Ronnie with her gaze, like they were the only two people in the room. Warmth spread through Ronnie’s body, a tingle beginning at the tips of her fingers. She could have a pretty good time with just about anyone, but it had been a hot minute since she’d been this actively affected. She shouldered away from the wall, hands in her coat pockets, as Diana approached. Going up?

Diana brandished a white key card in response, expression a little exasperated. Phoebe sprang for the top floor.

In the elevator, she offered the wine to Ronnie. Is this all right?

Ronnie took it. She’d never had this kind before. It’s great. She glanced back up, ready to turn on one of her more winning smiles, but Diana was watching the elevator’s display as it counted floors. So Ronnie rolled the bottle between her hands, staring down at the label like she could actually read the Italian on it.

After a moment of silence, Diana said, You know, I’m a bit surprised. Ronnie frowned at her and Diana continued: That you haven’t . . . She seemed to search for the right word. Pounced.

Ronnie grinned. This is your first time, yeah?

Yes. Well, with a . . .

A professional.

Yes, Diana said, softer this time.

Edging a touch closer to her, Ronnie said, You’re the client. That means you’re in charge. We’ll move at your pace, and we won’t do anything you don’t want to.

Diana’s eyes searched her face. Phoebe did say we could just talk.

Ronnie nodded. Yep. We can. She dropped her voice slightly. "But if you do want me to pounce, all you gotta do is say the word."

Before Diana could respond, the elevator gave a low, soothing chime, and the doors slid open. They’d arrived at the thirtieth-floor penthouse.

As they stepped into the hallway, a loud jangle made Ronnie jump. Diana closed her eyes and sighed, then pulled a phone from her coat. She didn’t even look at the screen before saying, I have to take this. She passed the key card to Ronnie. Leave the door on the latch for me?

Ronnie nodded. As she unlocked the door and slipped inside, she heard Diana answer the phone. Her tone was surprisingly pleasant, considering the face she’d made when she got the call.

When Ronnie turned and got a good look at the penthouse, her eyebrows rose. No wonder she didn’t want this to go to waste. The suite was spacious and, like the lobby, artfully minimalistic. In the main room, sleek, low-profile furniture sat around a marble fireplace, where a low fire simmered invitingly. To Ronnie’s right was an open, brightly lit kitchen and, down the hall, a closed door. Bedroom. She felt a pleasant twinge of anticipation.

She sat the wine on the kitchen island, keeping one ear on the half conversation happening outside. You know my schedule better than anyone, Diana was saying. First thing tomorrow. Her tone was brisk, professional—whatever it was about must be pretty important.

So, Ronnie mused, she’s a busy lady who gets stressful phone calls. She peeled off her coat and draped it over the back of the long, black sofa. What does she need? More important, what does she want? Comfort. Relief. Me.

An idea began to percolate in the back of her mind.

Moving quickly and fluidly, she opened the wine and poured two glasses, taking both with her down the hall, through the bedroom, and into the en suite. A large soaker tub stood against one gray-tiled wall. Perfect.

Water spilled into the tub in a white rush, and Ronnie snatched a bag of bath salts from the shelves under the sink, dumping them into the foamy froth. Steam spiraled into the air, sweet and a little spicy, and Ronnie hoped it wouldn’t melt her makeup. She’d spent too much time on her face for it to get ruined so soon. She stripped, folding her clothes and laying them on the double vanity, along with one of the glasses.

When she stepped into the tub, the water was almost too warm, but not quite. Ronnie shut off the tap right before the fragrant foam reached the undersides of her breasts. There was enough room for Diana to get in, if she wanted, without the tub overflowing, and she’d get a tantalizing view if she didn’t. Placing her wine on the floor and leaning her head back, Ronnie sighed. This is why I’m the best.

Soon the tap of Diana’s heels sounded on the hardwood floor, slowing to a stop as she reached the bedroom. Ronnie?

In here.

Diana appeared in the doorway, eyebrows rising as she took in the scene. I thought we were just going to talk.

We are. I’m just gonna talk from here. Ronnie grinned and nodded toward the vanity, indicating the second wineglass.

Diana glanced at it. Oh, no, I don’t drink. She looked almost apologetic. My m— Well. I don’t drink. Thank you, though.

Why bother with wine, then? But Ronnie wasn’t about to pressure anyone, so she shrugged silently and reached for her own glass, taking a slow drink. It was delicious.

When she opened her eyes, she found Diana watching her the way she had in the lobby. Her attention seemed laser-focused, but her lips were slightly parted, gaze wandering ever so slightly below Ronnie’s neck.

"You can do more than look, Ronnie offered quietly. Diana’s eyes snapped back to hers, and she added, Plenty of room for two."

Something in Diana’s expression changed, going hard and hot, like she’d come to a decision.

Sure enough: All right.

Ronnie sipped her wine and watched with interest as Diana stepped out of her shoes and unzipped her dress with measured care. Bit by bit, she revealed smooth, pale skin and matching underthings—dusty-pink silk, pretty but modest; after all, she probably hadn’t planned on anyone seeing them. When she bent to remove her briefs, Ronnie’s eye was drawn to the crease at the junction of her hip and thigh, and all she could think about was burying her face there.

Everything about this woman was eye candy, and Ronnie suddenly had one hell of a sweet tooth.

Funnily enough, Diana seemed less uncertain now that she was naked. She lowered herself into the bath easily, making the water lap against Ronnie’s breasts. She hadn’t clipped up her hair, and the tips were soon dark and slick, clinging enviably to her neck.

So, Ronnie said on a sigh once Diana had settled, why’d your buddy think you needed me?

Diana rolled her eyes and scoffed, but a smile danced at the corners of her mouth. Phoebe is my best friend, and I love her very much, but we . . . often focus on different things.

And you focus on megahot blondes.

Diana’s laugh rang off the walls, light and unguarded. Oh, so does she, believe me. She visibly relaxed, sinking further into the water and lifting an eyebrow as she considered Ronnie. And brunets, and gingers. Her escapades just involve a very different type of blond.

Watching her was distracting; Ronnie’s gaze followed the subtle movements of her throat, couldn’t help noticing the flash of pink tongue tip that darted across her lips to wet them. Diana’s calf was smooth against her ankle beneath the water. And what, she figured you needed some escapades of your own?

Apparently. Diana tucked a damp strand of hair behind one ear. It’s been a while since I’ve slept with anyone, and she seems to think that needs to change.

And what do you think?

If I need an orgasm, I’m perfectly capable of giving myself one.

Now that was an interesting mental image. Ronnie took another steadying sip of wine. For somebody who didn’t want to do more than talk, Diana sure had driven the conversation straight into Sexytown.

But maybe that hadn’t been her intention. In an effort to steer things back, Ronnie cleared her throat and tried to change the subject. So, what do you do?

One of Diana’s brows slowly lifted, something like a smirk unfurling across her face.

Ronnie realized how it sounded. Oh, not . . . She laughed. Not for that. I mean, in general. She gestured vaguely toward the living room and the hallway beyond. For work.

I know what you meant. Diana’s smile was wide and teasing, and the room suddenly seemed a few degrees warmer. "I’m an event planner

Reviews for Night Life

[Angela · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

I would definitely read another book from this author. It had great f/f sex scenes through a good storyline.