by Jodi Redford
He cranked on the engine and reversed out of the parking spot. After getting her address he cruised in the direction of the freeway on ramp. They spent a few minutes engaged in meaningless chitchat before Marissa cleared her throat. “Is everything okay between us?”
“Sure. Why wouldn’t it be?” He tore his attention from the road to look at her.
“I don’t know.” She chewed her bottom lip. “I thought maybe you might be mad at me.”
He could have gone the easy route and played dumb, but he respected her too much to resort to those games. Besides, he had a strong feeling she’d see through any BS on his part. “I’m not mad at you. But my sense of decency has finally kicked in.”
She frowned. “What do you mean?”
“You’re a nice woman, and a friend. It wouldn’t be fair to give you false impressions.”
She dropped her gaze to her lap and remained quiet for a long moment. “You’re really not interested in me. It’s okay, I understand.”
Fuck. That definitely wasn’t the conclusion he’d intended her to have. For one thing, it couldn’t be farther from the truth. “Rissa, I’d give my left nut to spend all night in bed with you—and any other surface we could try out. But sex is the only thing I can offer you.”
“You think I’d want more than that?”
“Most women eventually do. It’s just the way you’re wired.”
Amusement tipped her mouth. “Hate to burst your bubble, but I might be more of an expert on my gender than you. And believe me, it’s completely possible for us to have sex with a guy and not be planning a wedding two seconds into the act.”
“Sure, there are some women who can have sex purely for sex’s sake. But they’re in the minority.”
She crossed her arms over her chest. “And you assume I’m not one of them?”
He wished like hell she was, because that’d make things a whole lot easier. Not to mention save him a lifetime of blue balls where she was concerned. “Let me ask you something. How did you react when you found out your McHottie was gay?”
She gave a listless shrug. “It was no big deal.”
“Rissa...”
Expelling a weary sigh, she tweaked the bridge of her nose between her thumb and index finger. “Okay, I might have been a tad upset at first. It was stupid on my part though.”
“No, you’d visualized a possible future with him, right? And it hurt when you found out that would never come true. That’s a completely understandable reaction.” He tightened his grip on the steering wheel and steeled himself to do the honorable thing. “But as much as I’m sure it stung, its nothing compared to how you would have felt if you’d gotten emotionally invested in him.”
“You mean by having sex? Yeah, I suppose so,” she admitted reluctantly. She dropped her hands to her lap. “You’re worried that’s what would happen with us.”
“Yes.” He returned his focus to the road. “You have your own reservations about us getting intimate. Well, this is mine.”
“So we’re both now in full agreement that it’d be a huge mistake?” There was a noticeable hint of sad finality in her voice.
Five minutes ago, he would have taken that as a prime opportunity to push his advantage and seduce her into giving him a chance. Just knowing that made him feel like a shady bastard. He’d never once experienced an ounce of guilt over his player tendencies. But with Rissa he wanted to be a better man than he was. He wanted to protect her from men like him. “Looks like.”
“Well...good.”
“Yup.”
An awkward silence descended on them again. It hung around all the way up to the moment he pulled into her subdivision. She cleared her throat and pointed toward the windshield. “My house is the one with the red and white Christmas lights up there on the left.”
He slowed and pulled into the indicated driveway. Curiosity getting the best of him, he eyed the two-story bungalow in front of him. An enormous Christmas tree took up almost the entire bay window. He grinned as he imagined her grunting and cursing while wrestling that behemoth through the door. Then again, she’d most likely had a few helping hands and strong backs to carry out the task. That realization prodded other sobering epiphanies to life. One of these days the strong back would belong to her boyfriend. Then her husband. It was all too easy to believe it, because Marissa was most definitely the marrying type. Hell, all she was missing was the white picket fence and the minivan she’d one day fill with a whole troop of rugrats.
Marissa freed her seat belt and reached for her bags. She gifted him with a too-bright smile. “Thanks for the lift.”
“Of course.” He stared at her mouth, the urge to kiss her overwhelming. Would one little taste of her really hurt? Yes, you selfish prick. It would. He knew damn well he wouldn’t be satisfied at stopping there. He’d want to sneak his hand under her sweater so he could feel the full weight of those gorgeous breasts in his palms. If she let him get that far he’d slip his other hand inside her panties. After that he’d be a goner. Because once he touched her pussy he’d want to go down on her. And once he knew how sweet her pussy tasted, he’d want to fill her with his cock.
She licked her lips. “I’ll, uh, just be going in now.”
“Yeah, I think that’s a smart idea.” He coughed to disperse the gravel from his throat. “I’ll see you on Saturday.”
She cracked her door open, her expression hesitant. “If you don’t—”
“Seven PM, Rissa. You can’t get rid of me that easily.”
Giving a brisk nod, she jumped from the vehicle and nudged the door shut with her hip. He waited until she was safely inside her house and then backed out of her drive. He made it as far as the subdivision’s entrance before he dug his cell phone from his jacket pocket. A quick scroll through his contacts and he located his booty call list. He stared at the top name, an emptiness settling in the pit of his belly. Any one of the women would be willing to have some no-strings-attached fun with him tonight. Only problem was he didn’t want any of them. No, he’d left behind the woman he truly wanted and he’d just made a pact with himself to keep her off limits.
Karma was a fucking bitch.
Tossing his cell onto the passenger seat, he headed home.
***
The obnoxious trill of his phone broke him from a sound snooze sometime around the butt crack of dawn. Groaning and cursing a blue streak, he tossed the bed sheet aside and snatched his cell from the nightstand. “Hello?” he demanded in the crankiest voice he could muster.
“Mornin’ Sunshine.”
He winced at Jane’s disgustingly perky greeting. “What are you doing up so early?”
“Some of us have jobs that start before Happy Hour, brother dear.”
Grumbling under his breath rather than take the bait, he rolled onto his back and glared at the ceiling. “Is there a reason you called—other than to antagonize me?”
“Just wanted to see what you’re doing this weekend. Since everyone else has abandoned me, I thought maybe we could do something on Saturday.”
“As long as it’s in the afternoon.”
“Got a hot date? Who’s the flavor this week?”
He cleared his throat. “No one you know.”
“Forgotten her name already?”
“Har har.” He rubbed his jaw and grimaced at the scratchiness. For sure he’d have to shave before hitting the stage tonight. Although, the beard was actually right in keeping with his routine. “I’ll swing by your place around ten tomorrow. You can make me breakfast.”
“Clearly you have me confused with someone who cooks. So you can stop at the bagel shop down the street on your way over. And tell those stingy bastards not to skimp on the packets of cream cheese this time.” After Jane blew him a kiss over the phone she clicked off, leaving him to wonder how she’d managed to sneak that fast one on him.
Shaking his head, he dropped his cell onto the nightstand and cracked a yawn before shoving up from the bed and taking care of busin
ess in the bathroom. There wasn’t much point in trying to fall back asleep. Mentally throttling Jane, he made tracks for the cramped kitchen in his apartment and got the makings together for his caffeine fix.
An hour later boredom got the best of him. Clicking off the TV before he slipped into a coma courtesy of another mindless talk show, he abandoned the couch and grabbed his jacket and keys. Rush hour hadn’t yet kicked in, so he reached the small, non-descript brick building housing the headquarters for Hunks for Hire in record time.
Cherrie, the administrative assistant and self-appointed mama bear to all of the guys, lifted her focus from her computer monitor and quirked an eyebrow as he strode through the entrance. “You’re up early.”
“Yeah, my sister’s more annoying than an alarm clock.”
A gruff snort sounded from the doorway to the left of Cherrie’s desk. “Understatement of the year.”
Cherrie sighed and rolled her eyes. “Pay no attention to him. He’s been a regular Oscar the Grouch all morning.”
Trig coughed into his fist. “In other words, his normal self?”
“I heard that, j-e-r-k-o-f-f.” The rather unflattering endearment was spelled out in individual letters.
Cherrie hitched her shoulder in response to Trig’s frown. “He’s got the kid with him today. It’s been kinda nice having a lock on his potty mouth.”
Another grumbling noise came from the other side of the wall. “I’m rethinking that generous raise I was planning to give you next month.”
Cherrie rubbed her eyes and fake sniffled. “And here I was really looking forward to that five dollar footlong it was going to buy me.”
Grinning at their good-natured sniping, Trig winked at Cherrie and ducked inside the owner’s office. He double-blinked at the sight of Jack sitting on the floor with his five-year-old daughter, Sunny. Jack was absorbed with the task of dressing the Barbie doll in his hands. Trig chuckled. “Getting some practice in?”
Jack glanced up at him and grunted. “Don’t laugh. I probably need it. Been a while since I’ve had any action with the real thing.”
Sunny wiggled onto her knees and slammed her tiny fists onto her hips. “Daddy, those shoes don’t go with that dress.”
“Everyone’s a fashion critic.” Jack removed the high heels in question. “Then I guess I’ll just have to wear them.”
An unrestrained giggle bubbled from Sunny. “Nooooooo. Your feet are too big!”
Jack donned a mock pout and turned his attention to Trig. “Can you believe she said that about her own father?”
“She’s right. You could give Bozo a run for the money.”
“Well, you know what they say about the size of a man’s feet.”
“TMI,” Cherrie shouted from the other room.
“Like you haven’t been secretly sizing up my Johnson for the last three years,” Jack volleyed.
“That’d require me upgrading to bifocals.”
Trig busted out a laugh, earning a hard squint from his best friend. He wiped his hand over his mouth, doing a half-assed job of concealing his smile. “What? It was funny.”
Sunny hopped up and down, making her dark curls fly around her cherub face. “Daddy, what’s a Johnson?”
“Something you will neither see nor touch until you’re at least thirty.”
“Okay.” Halting her whirling dervish routine, Sunny hunched over and grabbed one of the Barbies.
Jack eyed Trig before shooting a glance over his shoulder. “You both heard her say that. I’ll get signed affidavits from you later if necessary.”
Trig crossed to Sunny and tousled her hair, earning a huge smile from her and the offering of one of her dolls. He accepted the Barbie with a grin. “For me? Really?”
She nodded enthusiastically. “Yep, but you has to give her back.”
“Hey, you never let me play with Skipper. What gives?” Jack groused.
“You hurt her feelings when you asked if she was a boy.”
“It was an honest mistake. You gave her a buzz cut. How was I supposed to know?”
Sunny adopted a comically flabbergasted expression. “Daddy, she has boobies.”
Miraculously Trig didn’t crack a rib while he held in his mirth.
Jack pointed a finger at his daughter. “Young lady, don’t you be sassing me. And don’t ever use that word in front of your mother.” He grimaced as he peered up at Trig. “No doubt she’ll think Sunny heard it from me. Like Ava needs any more ammunition against me.”
Trig felt for Jack. His divorce hadn’t exactly been amicable and his ex still tended to give him major crap about every little thing. That was part of the reason Trig refused to cater to Jane’s constant griping where Jack was concerned. The man already had enough to deal with without adding in Jane’s grievances—whatever the hell they were.
Dutifully accepting the doll outfit Sunny passed to him, Trig leaned his hip against the side of Jack’s desk. He watched the little girl sit next to her father and pick out the proper shoes to match the other Barbie’s dress. There was no question that Jack adored his daughter. Not many family men in this business, so it kind of made Jack an oddity in that regard. He technically didn’t escort anymore, and that probably made it easier in the long run. Still, Trig couldn’t help thinking that Jack’s responsibilities likely also added in some complications too.
“Have you ever thought about settling down again?” The question popped from Trig before he could rethink the wisdom of asking it.
Jack frowned. “F-U-C-K no.” He scratched the back of his head. “I’m going to have to come up with a better plan when she learns how to spell.”
“Pig Latin. Or maybe your own Morse code.”
“Good idea.” Jack gazed at him contemplatively. “So why are you asking about my future intentions?”
“Just curious.” Trig studied the tiny boot in his palm. “Would you have continued escorting if Ava hadn’t gotten pregnant?”
“Not sure.” Tension bracketed Jack’s mouth. “Hard to let down your guard with a client after you’ve been burned by one. Not that I regret everything with Ava.” The grimness in Jack’s features softened considerably as his focus lowered to Sunny. He smoothed a hand over her hair before dropping a kiss on the top of her head. Returning his scrutiny to Trig, Jack cleared his throat. “Having said that, I’ll be the first to warn any of you guys against getting too involved with a client. Only asking for trouble.”
Trig pinned his attention back on the Skipper doll. A few seconds ticked by before a weary exhale slipped from Jack. He handed his Barbie to Sunny. “Go show Cherrie what a great job I did dressing Malibu.”
“Okay.” Humming excitedly, the little girl hopped from the room.
Jack lifted to his feet. “Which one?”
Trig frowned. “Which one what?”
“Which of your clients did you knock up?”
He gaped at Jack. “None. Where would you get a crazy idea like that?”
“You, when you f-u-c-k-i-n-g wouldn’t look me in the eye a second ago.”
“Jesus, it wasn’t because of that.”
Jack hooked his thumbs in the front pockets of his khakis. “Then why?”
“I don’t know.” Trig restlessly shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “I’ve been thinking about some of this stuff lately, and what you said sort of hit home with me.” Too close to home, to be exact. Jack’s situation more than proved marriages—or any committed relationship—didn’t last long for working escorts. Yes, Ava had basically tricked Jack into marriage, so it was no wonder they’d been doomed from the start. But who’s to say it would have panned out even if they’d been madly in love? Relationships were tough enough without throwing in the added complication of giving your heart and trust to someone who dated other women for a living.
“Whatever you’re thinking, don’t do it.”
He eyed Jack sheepishly. “I’m not thinking anything.”
“Sure you are. I recognize a sap on the edge of
foolishness because I was one too not that long ago.”
“Stop kicking yourself over Ava.”
“Who says I’m talking about her?” As if he was suddenly conscious of what he’d just said, Jack’s expression became guarded.
It took Trig a moment to realize what that could possibly mean. Hell, was Jane the edge of foolishness? She’d sworn nothing had happened between her and Jack beyond a date from hell, and he believed her. His sister sure as shit wasn’t the type to keep sexual conquests in the closet. But maybe there was more to her and Jack’s story that neither of them were telling him about.
Then again, did he want to know? When it came to Jane, the fewer the dirty details the better.
“Trust me, I’m giving you this advice for your own good.” Jack slapped his hand on Trig’s shoulder. “It doesn’t matter who the woman is, or how much you think she’ll be the exception to the rule. Sooner or later, she will have a problem with what you do for a living, and the doubts will slowly but surely erode anything you have together. So save yourself and her that heartache and hassle.”
Jack’s words carved another hollow layer in Trig’s gut. His best friend wasn’t telling him anything that he didn’t already know. Still, it made it no less bitter of a pill to swallow.
The wise—the only—choice he had was to escort Marissa to her party tomorrow night and leave it at that. To court anything more than that would not only be foolhardy, it’d potentially be devastating.
For them both.
CHAPTER FIVE
Marissa picked listlessly at the chicken Caesar salad in front of her. A few minutes ago she’d been starved and couldn’t wait to hurry down to the cafeteria for lunch. But when it came to actually eating, everything tasted as appealing as sawdust. It’d been the same story with her bowl of oatmeal this morning.
“Are you intending to eat that or just stab it until it whimpers for mercy?”
She rolled her eyes at Jane before making a point of taking a bite of one of the parmesan-dusted chicken strips. From the corner of her vision she noticed Sidney frowning at her.
Sid rested her elbows on the edge of the table. “Honey, is everything okay?”
