My Gigolo (13 page)

Smiling wickedly, she scooted his chair sideways away from the table and straddled his lap. He shoved anything breakable or spillable out of reach, then wrapped his arms around her and leaned up for her kiss. He was sweaty and smelly and dirty, but she didn’t seem to care. She kissed him like she was trying to climb inside and squirmed against him, her hands stroking up his arms and down his back.

“God, you smell good.”

If she thought so, he wouldn’t argue.

Another tongue-filled kiss. “I don’t even want to go upstairs. Do you mind?”

“Nope. Here’s fine.”

More kissing and a lot more stroking and squirming. He didn’t stand a chance against the onslaught. Luckily, he didn’t want to.

Her shirt disappeared. His jeans magically unbuttoned and unzipped. The phone rang.

She stilled against him, her teeth clutching his bottom lip, and listened to the second ring. And the third.

“I’d better get that. It might be my boss. He’s about the only one who calls my land line.”

He understood, though her words were muffled by his lip, so he nodded. He groaned as she slipped from his lap and sucked on his lip until she pulled away completely and picked up the phone.

“Yeah?”

He leaned back against the chair, his hands clenching on his thighs. His arousal already ached, and he probably looked ridiculous slumping back in a chair with his legs splayed and his jeans unzipped, his erection bulging in his underwear. Thank God for mini-blinds.

“I can’t tonight.” A pause. “I have plans.” She rolled her eyes. “No, not
plans
. Just plans. I’m busy.” Her eyes met his, and she bit her lip. “Maybe next weekend. I dunno. I gotta go, Phil.”

But she listened for a few more moments, slipping a hand into her jeans pocket and shaking her head. Finally, just as he began to wish he could tuck himself back into his pants and zip up, she groaned.

“Phil, I am
busy
. If you and Doug want to catch a movie, go right ahead. I’ll go another time. Thank you for asking, but I can’t talk right now.” She dropped her head back and slumped her shoulders. “I gotta go!”

She snorted and said a quick goodbye, then hung up the phone.

“Sorry. Where were we?”

He grinned and patted his thighs. “I don’t know where I was, but you were right about here.”

“Oh, yeah.”

Jack liked zombie movies. Could he be any more perfect?

Gabe leaned back against him in the flickering glow from the TV, a bowl of popcorn in her lap and his arms around her, watching cheesy, black-n-white horror movies and wondering if this could so quickly become a habit. Probably a bad habit.

He reached for popcorn, his chest flexing at her back with every movement, and she smiled, glad he couldn’t see her sappy expression. He’d been such enjoyable company the whole afternoon. Witty and charming. Handsome and helpful and relaxed. And he hadn’t said anything to kick up her guard even once.

Unfortunately, that was part of the problem. He was entirely too easy. Easy to like, easy to please, easy to get along with. How could she keep him at arm’s length when all he had to do was smile to get her to bring him in close? What kind of a fool would she be to fall for such practiced charms? To think they were real?

Swallowing a grumble at the turn of her thoughts, she pushed up from the comfort of his body and put the popcorn bowl on the coffee table.

“Ready for bed?” His tone flowed like honeyed whiskey. He had the best voice. Did he practice it, too?

“Not really. I just need to get up for a second. Want anything from the kitchen?”

He shook his head, but she felt his eyes boring into her back as she left the room. She needed to get away, both from him and from the false contentment he represented.

Shutting the bathroom door behind her, she leaned against it and let her head loll back. She knew better than anyone that life never offered anything perfect without demanding a steep price in return. Even if Jack did want something more than the good, simple thing they had going, she couldn’t have it. Wouldn’t dare to have it. She couldn’t imagine the astronomical hidden cost.

But every time she spent more than an hour out of the sack with him, she felt her resolve slipping. She wanted to remain single for the rest of her life. She’d promised herself after the last relationship…after Eric…that she’d be beholden to no one for her own happiness, that she would hold no one else’s happiness in her hands. Too much was at stake in matters of the heart to play with a cavalier attitude.

Even if Jack weren’t a male prostitute, she simply couldn’t be with him, couldn’t tie him up like that. It wasn’t fair.

But oh, to lie on the couch, safe in his strong arms, and point and laugh at B movies while snarfing popcorn—

It was a pipe dream. It was a stupid, dangerous fantasy, and if she were even half as smart as she credited herself, she wouldn’t allow the luxury of pretending it could be real.

Her resolve again firmly in place, she flushed the unused toilet, washed and dried her hands, then rejoined him in the living room, though she sat slumped in the armchair instead of with him on the couch.

“Better?”

“Much.”

The movie played on. They watched silently. Gone was the banter about zippered zombies and big-haired bimbo heroines.

Finally: “Why didn’t you go to the movies with your friends?”

She blinked. With all of the forced ignoring, she’d almost fallen asleep. She peered at him in the semi-dark, her eyes bleary from staring at the TV. He studied her, his face strangely intense.

“Huh?”

“Your friends called earlier. Why didn’t you go with them?”

“I didn’t even think to.” Not entirely true, but she
had
been distracted, what with his wet jeans clinging to him like that. She blushed and was glad for the TV's unsteady light. “Besides, I didn’t want to leave you here alone again. Wouldn’t be hospitable of me to leave a guest alone twice in one day.”

“I wouldn’t have minded going with you.”

She couldn’t make out his expression. Frowning, she carefully weighed her words.

“I didn’t think about it. Did you want to see a movie?”

“I wouldn’t mind meeting your friends.”

He sounded even more careful than she did. What was that look on his face? She felt her eyebrows coming together in a frown. Was he speaking his own language again?

“I’m not sure that’s a good idea. I don’t want them to get the wrong idea.”

His face was as immobile as stone. He didn’t even blink, but somehow she knew she’d said the wrong thing.

“You’re probably right. Look, I’m pretty zonked from all that mower-cranking earlier. Wanna hit the sack?”

She forced a smile, though her features felt frozen. “Sure.”

He stood and offered her a hand up. She took it. He didn’t pull her in close, and the distance between them suddenly felt like half the world.

And then he smiled, his eyes softening. “How old is that thing, anyway?”

“The mower?”

He nodded, and she found a more realistic smile.

“At least half as old as I am. Aunt Tab bought it when I was still in grade school.”

“I believe it.”

She followed him to the stairs, still wondering what she might have said to put that stony look on his face, in his eyes. Did he really want to meet her friends? But why? He barely had time for her, if his infrequent calls were any indication. Did he really have time for more acquaintances?

As she watched him undress and stripped off her own clothes, she couldn't help but frown, though the sight of him disrobing would normally have her licking her lips. If she introduced him to Doug and Phil, they would automatically assume some romantic tie. Jack wouldn’t want that anymore than she did. It'd be hard to explain away, and they would both be subject to a good deal of teasing before the matter settled. It wasn’t worth the trouble.

So what had she said wrong?

Finally, she lay naked beside him, feeling at least an acre of sheet between them though they lay close enough to bump elbows if one or the other shifted. What did he expect of her? What could he possibly get from coming here and mowing her lawn and watching zombie movies? What did he expect to get from meeting her friends? What was he doing to her?

Troubled, she didn’t fall asleep for a long time.

He needed a distraction. If he stayed cooped up in the house with her all day, he’d dig his hole deeper than it already was. It was long past time to take this non-relationship out into public.

Plus, he was bored.

“Are there any good mini golf courses around here?”

She looked up from her scrambled eggs and blinked. Though he’d felt uncomfortable since the night before when he realized she didn’t want to introduce him to her friends, he couldn’t help a tiny smile at that signature slow blink. She looked like a surprised cat when she did it, like she’d comprehend in her own good time and not a moment before.

“I guess that depends on what you mean by good.”

“Interesting. Difficult greens. No clowns or ponies or carnival music.”

Instead of the amusement he hoped for, he received the suspicious narrowing of one dark eye. Hiding a sigh, he realized it wasn’t only her friends she didn’t want him to meet. She didn’t want to be seen with him at all.

“Never mind. I’ll just update your computer’s operating system after breakfast. I know some good freeware you might want to try.”

Something in her face softened. “Are you that bored?”

“Of course not.” He sat up straighter. “I happen to be a computer genius. Plus, I snuck a peek at your system yesterday, and you are in desperate need of a multipurpose codec. I don’t know how you manage to watch videos on that thing.”

“Jack…” She paused a long moment before her chin came up. “Chimera Green is the best, but it’s also the busiest because it has other stuff like batting cages and go-carts. Go Go Putt Putt is obviously for kids. I’d say our best bet is Arg, Me Hearties.”

His lips twitched. “Arg, Me Hearties?”

For the first time all morning, she smiled. “Pirate themed.”

“You don’t say.”

They stared at each other, lips twitching, for a full second before bursting out laughing.

“It’s Talk Like a Pirate Day all year there, Jack, I kid you not.”

He fought for breath. “That’s it. We’re going. I have got to see this place.”

“I have to warn you. I am terrible at mini golf.”

His chuckles wound down to the occasional guffaw. “Please tell me you don’t hate it.”

“Bite your tongue.” But she grinned. “I love it. I’m just terrible at it.”

“Fair enough. What time do they open?”

In less than an hour, he pulled his Envoy into a parking spot barely ten yards from a cinderblock building painted and extended in front to look like a pirate ship. Plaster cannons poked out of the sides at regular intervals. Two masts that looked remarkably like adapted telephone poles shot up from the roof, and several sails flapped in the languid breeze. He killed the engine and sat staring for a long moment.

“Boggles the mind, doesn’t it?”

He nodded, caught between wide-eyed and highly amused.

“Every time someone finishes in under par, they fire the cannons.”

“No way.”

She snickered. “They have them set up with compressed gas and sound effects. The guy checks your score card, types in the number and hollers ‘Fire all!’ and it’s like a touchdown at Tampa Bay.”

Shaking his head, he opened his door and stepped out. “I love this place. I don’t even have to go inside to know.”

“It’s definitely something else.”

He kept his hands safely in his pockets as they walked toward the building so he wouldn’t accidentally put his arm around her or grab her hand. She walked close to him, and that was enough for now. Besides, she wasn’t hiding her eyes or darting glances around to see who might catch her with a male prostitute. She seemed relaxed and even grinned up at him when he opened the door for her.

“Ahoy, mateys!”

The chorus came from all sides, and he fought the urge to snicker. She nudged him with her elbow, and he looked down to find her eyes twinkling.

“Hope you brushed up on your pirate lingo. The desk is over there. I gotta go use the little wench’s room.”

He watched her go with a grin and nearly laughed again when he saw the signs on the bathroom doors. Wenches and Mateys. Good God.

“Welcome aboard, mate. How many rounds would ye like?”

Carefully hiding his amusement, he paid for a single round, not wanting to push his luck with her. If all went well, he hoped she’d grab a late lunch with him before he drove back to the city. He ought to try another heavy petting session to make up for not being in the mood last night, but he might not be able to fit it in.

While he waited for her to return from the little wench’s room, he looked over the decor with a wide smile. Rigging and nets draped every wall. Wooden casks and barrels stuffed up the corners, some with fake rats squatting on them. The walls were painted like wooden slats, the ceiling crisscrossed with heavy beams. And the crowning touch, an honest to God cannon, squatted against the far wall, a pile of cannonballs beside it.

A hand on his arm turned him from his lollygagging, and he didn’t bother hiding his amusement. “This place is a riot. How often do you come here?”

She quirked her crooked grin. “Just the once. The course is a little too distracting to really work on your game, and my game needs serious work.”

“I gotta see this.”

They picked out putters, then pushed through the far door leading to the course. He stopped just outside.

“Oh. My. God.”

“My sentiments exactly.”

A scale-model ship capped a blue-tinted hill, all billowing sails and storm-tossed waves. Water hazards with real running water abounded. Alligators, a squid and an octopus guarded various holes. And, of course, a sinuous, coiling sea serpent.

“I love this place.”

She laughed and took his arm, heading for the first hole. “Let’s get this show on the road.”

At least he didn’t make fun of her pitiful play. Gabe smiled softly as Jack took a careful, narrow-eyed stance. He’d been extremely patient, even at the squid hole where she’d gone a good eight strokes over par before taking a mulligan so they could just move on. Those tentacles were impossible.