by Linda Kage
His voice wasn’t tight or strained as he answered, “Of course,” but I could’ve sworn he was talking through clenched teeth, and he still refused to look at her.
She gave a single nod. “Good.” I swear she looked relieved by his answer. With one last glance at me, she murmured, “I look forward to seeing you then.” Turning away, she strolled off in her kick-ass shoes, which I suddenly had the urge to boot out from under her.
I whirled to Mason. “You don’t have any classes with her, do you?”
He popped his jaw as he clenched his teeth. “No.”
I shut my gaping mouth. “Oh.”
Hissing something under his breath I couldn’t quite catch, he snapped his messenger bag off the table with vicious force. “This was a mistake. I never should’ve sat beside you.”
My heart thudded against my chest. “Well, thanks a lot.” I forced my voice to sound offended instead of hurt, when honestly, I was a whole lot of both. “I had a sucktactular time talking to you too.”
Jerk face.
“I didn’t…” He closed his eyes and fisted his hands before sitting back down. “Reese, I didn’t mean it that way. I swear.”
“Then how exactly did you mean it? Because it sounded pretty rude from every angle I heard it.”
His lashes fluttered open before he pierced me with one of his intense, paralyzing stares. “Don’t you get it?” He glanced around the courtyard. “I just doomed you. By talking to you in public, by sitting with you at this table…” He whooshed out his arm to motion to our surroundings. “Everyone here thinks we’ve had sex.”
I snorted out a laugh. “Oh, whatever. I seriously doubt that. I barely even touched your arm. People do not…” But my words faded off as I glanced around. Everyone really was stealing speculative glances in our direction and talking behind their hands. I sank lower in my seat, feeling instantly ostracized. “Or maybe they do.”
Holy salted tomatoes, Batman. He must have a mighty heavy reputation if simply sitting beside him automatically made me a slut. “So…uh, Dr. Janison is really one of your, umm, clients then?”
He snorted but didn’t answer.
I groaned and closed my eyes. “Wow. This is going to make my next Early British Literature class way awkward.”
“Wait.” He grasped my forearm, and I swear I felt his touch explode out the tips of my toes. Maybe it wasn’t so farfetched to think he had such a heavy reputation. “Are you saying you have a class with her? With Dr. Janison?” When I nodded, he closed his eyes briefly. “Shit.”
Well, that didn’t sound good. “What? What does that mean?”
“Look.” He sighed, sounding incredibly tired. “If she starts giving you a tough time, or failing you or…anything, let me know. I’ll talk to her.”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa. Why…why would she fail me just for sitting next to you on a public bench?” And setting my hand on his arm as if we were dating, and…oh, crap.
But wait. “That makes no sense. Even if we had…you know, had sex or whatever, she has no reason to get jealous. Doesn’t she know she can’t possibly be your only…customer?”
“Of course she knows. But you’re obviously not a customer. She might feel slighted if she thinks I gave you a…” He glanced away and waved his hand. “You know, a freebie.”
“Wow. Okay. But wow. Not only is this the strangest conversation ever but, wow. A freebie?”
Mason sent me a dark glance as if he didn’t think I was taking the situation seriously enough. “You know what I mean.”
I barked out a laugh, because okay, yeah, the whole conversation did feel incredibly ridiculous. “Just convince her I paid for it then, that I’m, you know, a client too, just like her.”
He blinked. “What? You don’t want me to tell her we’re not fooling around at all?”
Flushing hard, I cleared my throat and glanced away. “Or that. That…I mean, sure, the truth would probably be best. Yeah. Let’s stick with the truth.”
Mason shook his head, looking entertained and frustrated in equal parts. “Except she won’t buy it. And she knows you can’t be a client.”
“Hey. Why couldn’t I be a client?”
Was I too young? Not classy enough? Not his type?
His lips tightened as if he was trying not to smile. But his eyes lit with amusement. “Reese, you just admitted you couldn’t afford the same kind of shoes as her. There’s no way you could afford me.”
Oh, now he sounded like Eva.
I didn’t want him to know it, but that kind of offended me.
“Really?” I arched an eyebrow and set my hands on my hips. “Just how much do you cost, Mr. Ego?”
Leaning in close, he whispered an amount in my ear. My mouth dropped open. “Okay, yeah. I couldn’t afford that. But…wow, I don’t know.” I flailed my hand. “Don’t you have a payment plan or something? Reduced prices for the lower income?”
He sputtered through a startled laugh. “No, I do not offer payment plans. Are you for real? I play the expensive way, or I don’t play at all. I don’t do this for my health, you know.”
“Then why—”
“Because being a decent, moral upstanding citizen didn’t keep the eviction notices away,” he snapped. “It didn’t get my sister a new wheelchair, and it didn’t put food on my mother’s table, or keep the electric company from turning off our power in the middle of the hottest day of the year. And it sure as hell didn’t get me enrolled in college this semester. This is all about the money. Only about the money. Got it?”
“Got it,” I said in a small voice. Then I offered him a smile. “Actually, that explanation makes you sound kind of noble, you know, with you falling on the sword of absolute depravity to save your family. You’d probably make a good Saturday afternoon movie.”
There. I hoped that sounded frivolous enough, like I really didn’t care what he did with his life.
But Mason blinked at me. “You’re…insane.”
“Only on Thursdays.” I wrinkled my nose since he was counting my nose-wrinkles and all.
He grinned—unwillingly, I think, but hey, at least I’d managed to ease some tension from the moment.
Popping a salted tomato between his perfect lips, he chewed with vigor…until I went and asked, “So, you don’t give out freebies? Like ever?” That just sounded so bizarre to me. I would’ve thought a gigolo would be a complete man-whore, even off the clock.
But when his jaw went dead still as he stopped chewing and he said, “Are you…asking for one?” I wanted to smack myself on the forehead.
Crap, I hadn’t meant to make my question sound so hopeful. “What? No!” Then for good measure, I made an incredulous sound. “God, no.”
He gaped at me, telling me he didn’t believe me.
I flushed and looked away. “I’m not—” It was on the tip of my tongue to tell him sleeping with him would break my heart. But admitting that couldn’t end well, so I repeated, “No!” just to be clear. “I’m not like that. I need to be in, you know, a committed, monogamous relationship, and…in love, and stuff, before I…sleep with someone.”
Shifting closer and setting an elbow on the table to study me until I squirmed on the inside, he softly asked, “Have you ever been in love?”
My mouth fell open. “Are you asking if I’m a virgin? Because I’m not—”
Lifting his hand, he waved it softly to stop my flow of embarrassing words. “That’s not what I’m asking.”
“Oh.” I cleared my throat and glanced away. More self-conscious than I’d ever been, I bit my lip and winced. “Well…I don’t…” I shook my head. His question was too complicated to answer with a simply yes or no. “I’m not sure what I was, if it was stupid, too-young-to-know-better infatuation or what, but it definitely wasn’t love. And I’m not about to make the mistake of not knowing the difference ever again.”
His lips tilted up in a smile, almost as if he were proud of me. “Good.”
Huh? I wasn’t sure which part of
that he approved of so much, but the admiring gleam in his eyes made me a touch too warm. I promptly turned the subject back to him and back to why I needed to stay away. “So, if it’s common knowledge around here that you’re really, you know, what you are, then how have you never been arrested before?”
“It’s not common knowledge. It’s a common rumor.” He squinted as if he wanted to say more on the topic but sighed instead. “You’re not going to leave this alone, are you?”
“Hey, it’s not every day I meet a gigolo.”
He choked on a tomato when I said gigolo aloud, because my vocal chords might’ve risen a touch too vociferously, but I kept going. More quietly, of course.
“Can you blame me for being curious? I have, like, a million questions.” I held up a hand, remembering how uptight it had made him last night when I’d gotten nosey. “But only if you’re cool with answering them.”
He eyed me a moment longer before shaking his head. “You read a lot of Nancy Drew mysteries when you were a kid, didn’t you?”
I wrinkled my nose. “No. I’ve never even read one. Harry Potter is more my style, and yeah, his curiosity got him into trouble a lot too. As you well know.”
“No,” he murmured, looking almost regretful. “I’ve never read Harry Potter.”
Gasping, I set my hand over my heart and stared at him as if he were an alien. “Are you kidding me? But…everyone’s read Harry Potter.”
He shrugged and didn’t even have the grace to look ashamed or guilty. “Not me.”
“But…but…they’re so…amazing. Don’t worry,” I instantly reassured, reaching out to pat his arm. “I have all the books in the series sitting in my apartment. Next time I babysit Sarah, I’ll bring the first one over for you to see what you think.”
The muscles under my fingertips twitched as if my touch burned him. I noticed his expression then as he stared at my hand still resting on his forearm. I wanted to jerk my fingers away because he seemed so transfixed by our connection, but I couldn’t move. He just looked so…tempted.
I liked it.
Slowly, he slid his arm out from under my gentle grip, severing our contact. “I don’t do freebies,” he said in a throaty voice. “Ever.”
Wow. Okay, then. That had kind of come out of left field.
Had he really thought I’d been coming onto him to score a freebie?
Jeez, had I been coming onto him?
“But I wasn’t…” Scowling, I turned back to my lunch. “Whatever.” Then just as quickly, my snoopy Harry Potter syndrome struck again. Crunching on a crouton, I asked, “What about your personal life, though? What about dating and—” I broke off when he laughed. “What’s so funny?” I totally hated missing out on a joke.
He arched his eyebrows. “Dating? Personal life? Are you serious? The only girls who sniff around me are willing to pay or they’re looking for free services rendered, which only pisses me off.”
“But—”
“And all you monogamous, relationship-conscious ladies stay as far away from me as possible for obvious reasons.”
I made a face. “That can’t be true. I’m sure plenty of—”
“Reese.” He stopped me mid-word by lifting his hand. “Honestly, would you date a…person of my occupation?”
I gulped. Hells to the no, I would not. “Good point.”
“Yeah.” He let out a long, lonely sigh. “Exactly.”
“Well, that’s just sad,” I finally decided. “You can’t date or have recreational…fun, or even fall in love just because you went to drastic measures to save your family?”
Yes, I was feeling bad for a gigolo. Sue me.
He shook his head as if stumped by my sympathy. “I was eighteen when I fell into this. At the time, I was too young and stupid to think about how it would impact my future…so.” He shrugged. “There you have it. Now I’m stuck.”
“No. You can’t be stuck. Surely, there’s something else you could do to make money. Something legal and…and…”
“Moral?” he guessed.
“Yes, and moral. And...”
He chuckled and touched my cheek briefly. “You’re cute, Reese. Cheerful. Optimistic. Funny. But completely deluded.” Grasping his bag, he stood up abruptly, letting me know he was done talking. “Thanks for making my sister smile. And thanks for the tomatoes. I’ll see you around.”
As I watched him take off, I wanted to call after him and make him come back. He’d looked so lonely when he’d said he was stuck. The pain in his eyes had cried for help. It had cried for a friend.
And I could always use a new friend. But I’d have to be extra careful. Because that’s all he could be.
CHAPTER SEVEN
“You’ll never guess what rumor I heard yesterday.”
Eva’s voice startled me Friday morning before Brit Lit as she slid into the seat beside mine. I’d been downloading a few songs Sarah and I could boogie to onto my phone.
“What’s that?” I asked, returning my attention to the four-inch screen to purchase a little Black Eyed Peas.
“I heard my favorite cousin on earth was spotted eating lunch with Waterford’s very own hunky, mysterious gigolo yesterday.”
“Hmm? Oh, yeah, he—Oh, I forgot to tell you.” I lowered the phone. “That babysitting gig I got—the one I started Wednesday—it’s his sister, Sarah. She has cerebral palsy. Did you know that?”
“About his sister? Yes, I’ve heard.” Eva made a grumbly sound in the back of her throat as she waved her hand. “How does that have anything to do with you sitting all alone in the middle of campus with her brother…yesterday?”
“Well, I guess I’m a kick-ass babysitter.” I tossed my hair over my shoulder as I flashed her a smug grin, preening over my awesomeness. “Miss Sarah raved about her evening with me to him, and he wanted to…I don’t know, thank me, I guess, for being so nice to her.”
Eva’s mouth dropped open as if she didn’t buy such a lame excuse. “Really? That’s all he said to you during your forty-five-minute conversation?”
Wow, our gossiping eavesdroppers had actually been timing us? Weird. And had we really talked for forty-five minutes? No way. It hadn’t felt that long. But then, it hadn’t felt nearly long enough, either.
“Well…” I frowned. “Mostly, yeah. After talking about Sarah, we moved on to a couple other topics, but—”
“What other topics? Like his work?”
I rolled my eyes. My God, she could be even more curious than I was sometimes. “Well…sort of. That was on the list. But we talked about all kinds of—”
“Oh, my God, so he admitted what he is.”
“You said he would.”
“But…but everything I’ve ever heard about him was just…hearsay. This is actually…fact.” Her mouth fell open as she whispered, “Holy shit, he’s really a gigolo.”
At that moment, our professor walked into the classroom. A sharp-dressed woman, Dr. Janison wore fitted skirt suits as you could imagine some executive in high fashion might wear. It was too bad I had to hate her now; she really did teach well and knew how to put together an awesome ensemble.
But thinking of her anywhere near Mason made me feel all heartbroken and depressed. And kind of vengeful.
Unable to help myself, I motioned to her with my eyes and leaned across the aisle to whisper, “And guess who one of his clients is.”
Mouth falling open, Eva turned to watch our teacher set her briefcase on top of her desk and click it open. “No freaking way.”
A niggle of guilt gnawed at my conscience. Mason hadn’t acted like it was a big secret, but I suddenly felt ashamed about spreading gossip about him—even though it was true and I was only telling my favorite relative and personal confidant.
Still.
“But you didn’t hear that,” I was quick to add. Both the professor and Mason would find themselves in a world of trouble if someone leaked their association.
“Oh, hell, yes, I did,” Eva whispered, unable to take
her eyes off Dr. Janison. “I wonder what position she likes it in.”
Seriously? “You did not just say that.”
“Whatever. Tell me to my face you’re not a little jealous of her right now. I mean, the man ate lunch with you yesterday. Mason Lowe just doesn’t…interact with females in public. I think you have more claim over him now than any girl, like, ever.” She turned back to me. “You should be the most jealous of us all.”
“I…no,” I insisted a little too emphatically. But did I really have more claim over him than any other girl ever? “I mean, no. I don’t hate Jessica for having Justin, do I?”
How could anyone hate another woman for having a man who was totally out of her league?
Eva wrinkled her face in confusion. “Jessica and Justin?”
I gasped. How could she not know who Jessica and Justin were? “Justin Timberlake,” I clarified with that are-you-kidding-me kind of expression all over my face. “Jessica Biel. Only one of Hollywood’s hottest couples.”
Now she really looked mystified. “You like Justin Timberlake?”
“Hello.” The look I sent her said, Yes! Duh. “He brought sexy back.”
Ooh, and now that I was thinking of it, that would be a good song to add to my phone for Sarah to groove to.
“Well, whatever,” E. murmured beside me as I searched for “SexyBack” since “Let’s Get It Started” had finished downloading. “You can deny jealousy all you want. I don’t think Dr. Janison is going to be so forgiving, though.”
I whipped my head up. “What do you mean?”
“Honey, she’s going to flunk you hard for playing with her boy toy…without paying for him.”
I swear, she and Mason sounded too much alike sometimes. I opened my mouth to tell her our professor was a professional; she would not flunk me just because I had one lunch with her gigolo.
But Dr. Janison interrupted me by beginning class. “Good morning. Today, we’re going to start studying a new author. I think everyone will get a kick out of Chaucer—”
She broke off mid-word when her gaze caught mine where I sat near the right side of the room midway down the aisle. Recognition lit her gaze, and her face drained of all color. Then her eyes narrowed ominously. When everyone turned to glance at me, I shrank lower in my seat.
