Damaged Goods (23 page)

Austin nodded slowly. “If that"s what you want, then…go ahead and talk to

him. You tell me where to be and when, and I will.”

“Thank you,” I whispered.

He smiled but said nothing. Instead he kissed me again. We drew it out this

time, and as I wrapped my arms around him and let him guide me onto my back,

the knot in the pit of my stomach loosened a little. Michael had to see there was

more to Austin than his job. He had to. It would be a shock, of that I had no doubt,

but once he met Austin and talked to him and saw he was a normal human being,

he"d be fine.

Right?

Damaged Goods

111

Chapter Fifteen

I met Michael at a café downtown on Saturday afternoon. Austin would join us

after half an hour. I figured that would be enough time to drop the bomb on

Michael, let him chew on it for a little while, but not give him enough time to get

himself worked up and freaked out. Both men were chronically on time, so at least

that part of my plan was bulletproof.

One o"clock, Michael.

One thirty, Austin.

As was my custom, I got there early, finding a table for three that was visible

from the doorway but put some space between us and other patrons. While I waited

for my ex-husband, I ordered a soda but barely touched it. My fingers tapped out an

uneven tempo on the blue Formica, keeping time with my scattered, racing

thoughts.

It wasn"t that I doubted what I was doing. If Austin and I were to pursue our

relationship any further, then this was a necessary evil. I couldn"t risk Michael

finding out after the kids had already been around Austin.

But what if he did flip out? What if he threatened to take the kids or refused to

agree to Austin meeting them? Of course I could introduce a boyfriend to my kids

without my ex"s consent, but in
this
situation, Michael held the cards. If he refused

to allow Austin near our children, then what?

“Your Honor, I want an injunction to keep my ex-wife’s boyfriend from our

children.”

“And why is that, Mr. Rhodes?”

“Because he’s an admitted prostitute.”

“Is this true Ms. Rhodes?”

“Uh…”

I shuddered.

Austin would never ask me to choose between the kids and him. There was a

possibility Michael
would
ask me to choose between them and Austin, though. My

stomach turned at the very thought. Austin would understand if I had to make that

choice, but damn it would hurt if things came down that.

The sleigh bells above the door jingled, and I looked up as my ex-husband

stepped into the restaurant. He waved, then started across the floor. My heart

pounded. How ironic; this was probably the first time in a decade his presence had

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affected my blood pressure like this. There was a time when he had made my heart

flutter with something very, very different. That feeling was reserved for someone

else now.

“Hey,” he said, leaning down to kiss my cheek as he sometimes did. “You

haven"t been waiting long, have you?”

“Oh, no, you"re right on time.” I smiled. “I was here early.”

He laughed and took a seat. “You? Early? Oh, there"s a shock.”

“I know—stop the presses.”

We exchanged smiles. For the millionth time since our divorce, I was thankful

we"d split amicably. This conversation would be a hell of a lot more awkward if we

were already at odds.

After he"d ordered a drink, he folded his hands under his chin and rested his

elbows on the table. “So, what"s up? You said you needed to talk about something?”

“Yeah.” I chewed my lip. “I…” Fuck, for all the time I"d spent playing out this

conversation in my head, now I had no idea where to start.

His eyes widened slightly, and he cocked his head. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, everything"s fine.” I took a deep breath. “Listen, I"ve been seeing

someone for the last few weeks. A couple of months, now, actually.”

He smiled. “Good, I"m glad to hear it.”

My smile wasn"t as enthusiastic, and the furrow of his brow told me that

hadn"t escaped his noticed. I cleared my throat and went on. “He"s a great guy, and

things are going really well.”

“Does he get along with the kids?”

“He hasn"t met them,” I said. “I"d like him to, though, and that"s why we"re

here. I wanted to talk to you first.”

“You don"t have to ask me before you introduce someone to them, Jocelyn. You

know that.”

“There are some”—I paused, searching for the right words—“different

circumstances.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Different in what way?”

I wrapped both hands around my glass. “Like I said, he"s a great guy. Really.

But his job…” I trailed off, wondering where all the carefully rehearsed words had

gone.

Michael gave a tentative laugh. “What is he? A hit man or a drug dealer or

something?”

“Oh, God, no.” I managed a laugh myself. “He"s…” I chewed my lip. Finally, I

took a deep breath and looked my ex-husband in the eye. “He"s an escort.”

Michael"s brow furrowed. Then his eyebrows jumped. “Wait, an escort? Like,

an
escort
?”

I nodded slowly.

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113

He rubbed the bridge of his nose. “He"s a prostitute. You"re dating…a

prostitute.”

I let out my breath. “Yes.”

“I"m not sure I want to know,” he said, leaning back in his chair and looking at

me, “but how the hell did you meet this guy?”

I looked at him. Didn"t blink. Didn"t say a word.

The upward flick of his eyebrow signaled his enlightenment. “Are you serious?”

“Yes. It"s a long story.”

“One I really don"t want to hear.” Disgust dripped from every word.

My stomach twisted itself into tighter knots. “Well, it happened. And now—”

“And quite frankly, I"m surprised.” He scowled. “I never thought of you as that

type.”

“You try doing the single thing for seven years without a prospect in sight, and

see what lengths you"ll go to,” I snapped.

He narrowed his eyes. “I can"t say I"d ever go with a prostitute.”

“I didn"t think I would either.” I shrugged, watching myself wring my hands on

the table. “I was just tired of the headache and bullshit with dating and needed

some—”

“Yeah.” He put a hand up. “I get it. What I don"t get is how you went from

renting this guy to dating him. I mean…” He narrowed his eyes. “How many times

did you use him, anyway?”

“A few.”

“And how did you get from that to whatever it is you"re doing now?”

I sighed. “We got to know each other.”

With a sniff of sarcasm, he said, “I"ll say you did.”

“Michael, please.”

He shifted in his chair and rested his elbows on the table. “So, what now? Are

things, um, serious? I assume they are if we"re having this conversation.”

“They"re getting that way, yes,” I said quietly. “I don"t want to get too far into

it or start thinking about it being a permanent thing until he"s met the kids. You"ve

been there.”

“Yes, but I wasn"t seeing a prostitute.”

I resisted the urge to reach across the table and throttle him. “He
is
a human

being, you know.”

“Mm-hmm.” He raised an eyebrow, challenging me to break through the thick

wall of preconceived notions.

Trying not to roll my eyes, I said, “I know it"s unusual. It"s—”

“Unusual? You"re suggesting bringing someone like that around our kids.”

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Lauren Gallagher

“There"s more to him than just his line of work, Michael,” I threw back. “He

wouldn"t dream of telling the kids or breathing a word about it around them. He

knows how to be discreet.”

Michael snorted. “Oh, I"ll bet he does.”

I glared at him. “I"m serious. Just give him a chance.”

“To what, Jocelyn?” He rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Someone like that isn"t

parent material. He"s—”

“First of all, I"m not looking for a parent,” I said. “I"m looking for a companion.

Our kids
have
a father.”

“You know what I mean.” He eyed me. “Doesn"t it bother you that he"s still

doing this while he"s dating you?”

“I"m not crazy about it, but it
is
how he pays his bills.”

“Has he thought about doing anything else?” He smirked. “Or is he happy in

his line of work?”

“This from the man who knows how difficult it is to change careers with the

way the economy is now?”

“So, what?” He drummed his fingers on the table beside his drink. “He"s

desperate? Struggling? „Woe is me, I have to fuck other women for a living"?”

I refused to give him the satisfaction of a flinch. “Are you done? Because I"d

like to have a serious conversation about this.”

“Okay, I"m sorry.” He folded his hands and shifted again. “You do understand

why this is a bit, erm, hard to swallow, right?”

“Yes, I do.” I exhaled. “Believe me, no one knows like I do how strange this is.”

He regarded me silently for a long moment. When he spoke again, his tone was

gentle. “Then why do you do it, Jocelyn?”

“Why do you think?” I asked, almost whispering.

“You really feel that strongly about him?”

I nodded. “I haven"t had this kind of connection with someone in…” I shook my

head. “In ages. Really, I don"t think I"ve ever had something like this with anyone.”

He stared into his drink but didn"t speak.

Leaning forward, I said, “You know me, Michael. You know I would never put

the kids in a dangerous situation or let someone around them who I didn"t fully

trust.”

“I know.” He ran a hand through his hair and released a breath. “I"ve never

questioned your judgment when it comes to the kids.”

“Except now,” I said, and it wasn"t a question.

With a sigh of resignation, he nodded. “I"m sorry, I can"t just say this is fine

and pretend it doesn"t bother me.”

“What would it take for you to be comfortable with it?”

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115

He swallowed hard, lips tightening as if the very taste of that thought made

him queasy. “Well, for starters, I at least want to meet this guy before the kids do.”

“I figured you would. In fact…” I glanced at my watch. “He"ll be here any

minute.”

“What?” Michael"s eyes widened. “He"s coming here? Now?”

“Yes.”

“Gee, thanks for giving me time to get my head around the idea,” he snarled.

“Look, I just want you to meet him and get it over with. He"s probably nowhere

near what you"re expecting.”

“We"ll see about that,” he muttered into his drink.

As if on cue, the bells above the door rang again, and our heads turned. My

heart jumped, half because of the sight of Austin, half because of the conversation I

was dreading.

Michael looked toward the door, then at me, and lowered his voice. “That"s

him, I assume?”

“That"s him.”

“I see.” His tone was flat, betraying neither disgust nor surprise, but the hint

of a growl underscored the hostility in his stiff posture. He watched Austin

approach, and it was just as well I couldn"t hear his thoughts. He watched my

boyfriend like he was sizing up a rival, memorizing movements and guessing weak

spots. Michael wasn"t the violent type by any means, but he was as protective of our

kids as I was, and this newcomer was, in his eyes, a threat.

And Austin saw it. Though his expression was mostly neutral, the tightness of

his jaw and the narrowness of his eyes responded to Michael"s unspoken assessment

with a silent “is there a problem?”

Oh, Jesus. Please play nice. Both of you.

I gestured at Austin. “Michael, this is Austin. Austin, Michael.”

Austin extended his hand, and Michael eyed it warily, wrinkling his nose just

enough to give me the almost irresistible urge to kick him under the table.

“Don"t worry,” Austin said with a hint of a smirk. “I wash my hands between

clients.” That nearly prompted me to redirect that kick, but to my surprise,

Michael"s cheeks colored, and with a sheepish look, he shook Austin"s hand.

“Nice to meet you,” he said through gritted teeth.

“Likewise,” Austin growled. He took a seat beside me and casually rested his

arm across the back of my chair. My ex-husband had never shown a flicker of

jealousy toward any guy I"d dated, but this time, I didn"t miss the hint of tautness in

his lips.

Well,
this
was off to a good start.

I opened my mouth to speak, but Michael beat me to it.

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Lauren Gallagher

“I"ll give you some credit,” he said with a sneer. “You don"t look like a

prostitute.”

Austin shrugged. “I don"t usually wear the fishnets and garish makeup on my

day off.”

In spite of wanting to elbow him, I smothered a laugh. My ex-husband stared

incredulously at Austin for a moment, then allowed himself a quiet chuckle.

“Touché.” He straightened his posture and squared his shoulders. “Jocelyn"s