Working and being away from Jim had also allowed me to return to my normal eating habits, and the extra weight I had gained for protection had fallen away, leaving a girl I hardly recognized staring back in the mirror. I was slowly returning to the petite size I had always been and was grateful I didn’t appear to have done long-term damage to my body. It was a sad testament to my former life that now, even homeless, I was the happiest I’d ever been. Debra had tried to convince me to move in with her and Martin, but I had refused; I didn’t want to be a burden to them, and I was getting by. I worked mostly nights, so sleeping in my car seemed much safer during daytime hours. I also caught naps in the break room at the restaurant some days.
I hoped I could save enough money by the time school started for living expenses, since my grades won me a full scholarship. God, how naive I had been. My small amount of savings was gone by the end of the first semester, and I had no idea what I was going to do.
St. Claire’s requires that all students live on campus for the first two years. Unfortunately, that wasn’t part of my scholarship; neither was transportation, the cost of books, and other fees. The small, two-bedroom apartment I shared with Megan for a year, and now with Rose, was much cheaper than most apartments, but still expensive. Money had trickled through my hands like water.
I had given up and was planning to drop out of college. Even working two part-time jobs, I couldn’t swing my expenses. Debra had offered to borrow me the money, but I couldn’t do it; it was important I make it on my own. My then-roommate Megan had told me she worked for a company called Date Night and had offered to put in a good word for me. I had been so desperate to stay in school that I jumped at the chance. Now, three years later, I was just months away from having my degree in business and owed it all to Megan and Date Night. As Rose said, there were jerks to deal with in any job, and I considered myself lucky that it was rare in mine. Working for Date Night had allowed me to quit my other part-time jobs, which had given me more time for school. I missed Debra terribly but still hung out at the restaurant whenever I had a free day.
Looking at my watch, I blow my nose once more and force myself to stand and head toward my bedroom. After a loud sneeze, I look over my shoulder at Rose and say, “This is one night I would gladly change places if I could. I don’t know if it’s possible for makeup to tone down the Rudolph nose I’m rocking right now.” Looking at my bed longingly, I grumble, “You better tip well, Lucian Quinn, because I would much rather be in my warm bed watching a chick-flick than out with a bunch of rich snobs, drinking wine I would never be able to afford on my own.”
Chapter Two
Lia
Checking my reflection in the mirror, I groan at the disaster looking back at me. The last rounds of sneezing and nose-blowing have done a number on my makeup. I pull my compact out and once again powder my nose. My eyes look glassy from the cold medicine I took before leaving home, making me look more like a crack-whore than someone’s paid escort. This is a really bad idea. I take a hairbrush from my handbag and pull it through my wavy, blonde hair. Ugh, I desperately need a trim, but with my hair so long, I mostly keep it pulled back in a ponytail. On date nights, though, my dates prefer something a little less ‘look at me, I’m a college student.’ Shit, even the brush makes my stuffy headache. If not for the expensive books I need to purchase, I would have skipped tonight and lived on Ramen Noodles and water for a while.
I step out of my old Honda Civic and look around the parking lot. It’s probably too much to hope that some lonely man is holding up a sign with my name on it. Maybe it would have been a good idea to ask what type of car Mr. Quinn would be driving. Why had I been so damn stubborn about riding in his car? Oh, yeah, I didn’t want to be locked in his trunk, taken to some deserted road and killed. I’ve watched enough Lifetime movies to know all about ‘stranger danger’. Since there still doesn’t appear to be anyone looking for me, I decide to walk to the entrance and check with the valets. I have just stepped on the sidewalk when a sleek, black Mercedes purrs to a stop at the curb and a tall, middle-aged man steps from the driver’s side and walks around the car. I am almost even with the car when the driver opens the back door. A man inside the car closes a laptop and steps out onto the sidewalk.
Holy shit, he’s beautiful. Rose would die because he has the fuck-me style of tousled hair she just loves on men. His hair is as black as the night surrounding us and looks as if he-or someone else-has run their hands through it several times. His suit is obviously expensive and drapes perfectly over his muscular body; my heartbeat escalates as I imagine what that suit must be covering. He’s tall, powerful, and looks like something straight out of a wet dream. I’ve given myself countless orgasms picturing a man like him.