She turns on her expensive heels and leaves the room.
My fists are clenched at my sides. One of her jibes hit dead center. She doesn’t see me lasting in Moon’s bed before my face is healed. She’s right. I’m also surprised to learn that she runs Moon’s escort service. Having met her, she’s perfect for the job, but still. The woman’s a shark, and I refuse to be a minnow in her pond. Her last statement about hiding up here was a challenge. I know exactly what to do with challenges.
I head into the closet and pull out the red bikini that I spotted the first day. It has a complex system of straps and covers practically nothing. No way did Gabriella choose this. I try it on, and like everything else, it fits perfectly. Too much skin, but that’s how it’s designed. I pull a flower print sundress over the swimsuit and slip my feet into red four-inch heels that come very close to matching the bikini. The heels are not my usual footwear and I sincerely hope I don’t break an ankle. There is nothing I can do about my face, and I refuse to hide it. I pull my semi-wet hair into a French braid and nab a pair of Moon’s sunglasses from a shelf in his closet. I didn’t find any large gold chains to go with Moon’s thug image. Too bad because I’d have worn one.
He has two books on his nightstand. One is a business book that I’ll admit sounds thoroughly boring. The other is Lincoln and His Admirals by Craig Symonds. I’ve read several Lincoln biographies and other books about the Civil War but not this one. I pick up the hardcover and hate the fact that my Nook reader is back in my apartment. I’d love nothing more than a good murder thriller right now.
I hold the banister as I head downstairs and adjust to the heels. The book and sunglasses are in one hand. I stop at the bottom of the staircase to get my bearings. Moon took me past the pool by turning right after we walked outside via the kitchen exit. I open a pair of double doors beneath the stairs and discover a huge ballroom complete with a built-in bar at one end and a dance floor. Two additional sets of double doors open into this room. Sheer drapes show the pool area outside.
My heels make a click, click noise as I cross the expansive floor. I head to a door at the side corner and open it. It’s a changing room with two shower stalls. On the opposite wall there are oak-wood cubbies filled with purses. To the right of the cubbies, expensive-looking dresses are hung up; I assume these belong to Danita’s swarm of lady sharks. I open the door that leads outside and see six women sitting under a large umbrella speaking to Danita.
All talk dies when I head in their direction. When I’m at the table, I lay Danita’s card on it. “No offense that I’m passing on your offer. I have a wonderful job as a private investigator.” I place the sunglasses over my eyes before making my introduction. “Hi, everyone. Please make yourselves at home. My friends call me Mak.”
I receive a few mumbled hellos before I walk past them to a reclining chair grouping that’s also under an umbrella. It’s over one hundred degrees and within a short time, I’ll need to take a swim to cool down. I sit, open the book, and begin reading.
“Señorita, may I serve you a drink?”
Gabriella’s voice startles me because one: I didn’t know she was there and two: her English is much more refined than before. She also gives me a soft smile and I know she overheard me talking to the women. She approves. “Gracias, I would love a glass of ice water, Gabriella. Bring one for yourself if you’d like to join me.” We both know this is a game. The question is… will she play?
She nods and walks past the women without looking at them and returns to the house. The women start whispering and I fight laughter because I can hear every word.
“What happened to her face?”
“She’s sleeping in his room?”
“How long has she been here?”
“Gabriella likes her?”
I ignore them. I’m relieved when Gabriella returns with a tray holding a small plate of fruit and two glasses of ice water. She sits beside me after handing over my glass and places the tray on a small table between us. I grab a stem of grapes.
“I can only visit for a short while. The sun becomes too hot for this old woman,” she says as soon as she’s settled. She’s acting like we’re old friends.
I’ve never actually played the mean-girl game. When I was in junior high and high school, I was lucky because along with a voluptuous body comes a “don’t mess with me” attitude that kept the mean girls away. I have no doubt that the women sitting at the table ten feet away wrote the directions to the mean-girl games.
I tip up my sunglasses and smile at Gabriella. “I loved your albondigas soup. You’ll need to show me how to make it.” I pop a grape into my mouth.
She smiles back. “I would welcome a gringa in my kitchen to teach you how to make a traditional Mexican soup.”
I almost bust a gut at this. I would bet my right lung that Gabriella prefers no one in her kitchen and especially not a gringa. She finishes her water and stands. “Would you like your lunch out here or in the dining room, señorita?”
“I would love it out here, Gabriella.”
She nods and returns to the house. It’s hot, so I stand and pull my sundress over my head, kick off my shoes, and walk to the steps of the pool. I don’t need to look over my shoulder to know the women are watching me. They’re each beautiful in a unique way, and I have no doubt they make excellent money at what they do. I can’t help the shudder of distaste that travels through me at the thought.
I wade into the deeper end of the pool, careful not to let the water touch my stitches. It feels wonderful, and I can almost forget that I have an audience. I stay in for about five minutes and then get out and head back to my lounge chair.
“Would you like to use my towel?” Danita asks as she takes the chair that Gabriella used.
“No, thank you,” I tell her, because I don’t mind the heat drying me off. The other women make their way to the pool to cool off.
“Well played, my dear. Now I understand what Moon sees in you.”
Danita has decided to use another tactic and I’m not biting. Her gaze travels over my body once more. “You’d make fabulous money if you worked for me. Only two or three nights a week would give you more spending money than you could possibly make as an investigator.”
“You’re seriously propositioning the woman I told you to be kind to in my own home?”
Fuck. Moon is standing behind us and must have come in through the side gate. Danita, without regard to the anger in Moon’s voice, stands and kisses his cheek. His eyes don’t leave me. God, is he gorgeous. His suit is light gray and he still has on the jacket even in this heat. His tie is red and gray pinstriped. He ignores his aunt, walks around her, and scoots over a chair so he’s under the umbrella beside me. He leans down and places one hand on the opposite side of my lounge chair and gently kisses my lips. “How you feeling, baby?” he whispers.
I tip back the sunglasses and smile as he grabs a grape and plops it in his mouth. I want his lips back on mine. “I feel much better and have a clean bill of health from Dr. Santos.”
He leans up and I grab the plate of fruit and offer him some more. He chooses a peach slice and I watch as he chews it with slow, deliberate bites.
“Nice shades,” he tells me after swallowing. His aunt is left standing and it’s difficult not to laugh.
“I was going to say the same thing about yours,” I tell him because he has a pair covering his eyes. Before he can answer, I ask, “I thought you would be away all day.”
He takes another wedge of peach and I realize he must be hungry. “Finished early and decided to stop by and check on you before I head out again.”
I’m mesmerized by his lips. The women in the pool are quiet. Does Moon hold the same spell over them that he puts on me every time I see him?
His aunt breaks into our conversation. “I was hoping to discuss a few issues before I leave today, Moon.”
He turns and addresses his aunt. “Schedule a meeting with Alex. He can give me the information. I think i
t best you and the ladies leave.”
Oh, shit.
Danita looks between me and Moon and then back to me. “I apologize, Mak. I meant no offense. You’re a beautiful woman and I couldn’t resist.”
“Resist,” Moon says in a hard voice.
Danita nods and strides to the pool. “Come on, ladies. Mani-pedis on me and then we’ll have lunch.” They move quickly, almost tripping over each other as they walk back inside the house. A dark-skinned woman is the only one who doesn’t seem to be in the same hurry. She walks past me and winks.
Moon takes my hand before the door closes behind the women. He doesn’t care if they hear him. “I’m sorry. My aunt should not have brought her ladies.”
The door closes and they’re all inside. I can’t stop a laugh. “You’re upset that Danita brought the ladies? She gave me her card and asked me to call her once my face healed.”
Moon gives me a crooked grin. “I’m actually not surprised about the business card. My aunt is a pro and a bitch when she chooses to be.”
“Yes, I’m well aware of that now.” I notice small pearls of sweat on Moon’s throat. “Aren’t you hot in that suit jacket?”
He shrugs. “Boiling, but it’s seeing you in that swimsuit, not the heat.”
I lower the shades so he can see my eyes. “I could always take it off.”
Chapter Twenty-One
I DON’T HAVE A chance to take the swimsuit off with Moon present because he has limited time. He had only come home because Gabriella called to tell him that Danita brought a few of the escorts to the house.
“My aunt brings the ladies here about once a month to swim and relax,” he tells me over a quick lunch. “I make myself scarce on those prearranged days. She brought them here today for intimidation purposes.”
We’re enjoying sandwiches that Gabriella prepared for us. They include vegetables, which Moon picks off with a look of distaste. Now I know why he didn’t put any on ours the night before. I smile at him for doing something so boyish. I also ignore what he just said and focus on why he’s here for a moment. “I didn’t think Gabriella liked me at all.”
“Besides me, Alex, and Theresa, I didn’t think she liked anyone.” His eyes are more of a glacial blue right now. He isn’t happy with the vegetables or his aunt. “You somehow garnered her protective instincts. Gabriella and my aunt are like two fighting pit bulls. When Danita brings the ladies, Gabriella takes the day off. The two of them have rubbed each other the wrong way since I was a boy.”
I file this information away. Gabriella must have worked for Moon’s father. “You didn’t seem to have a problem throwing me at your aunt.”
He wipes his lips with a napkin and watches me closely. “I had no doubt that you could hold your own with my aunt. She asked to meet you and I thought I would be here. It didn’t work out that way. She knows she messed up by bringing the women here without asking. She’ll be easier to deal with over the next few weeks while she tries to weasel her way back into my good graces.” He has already removed his jacket and loosened his tie. His cufflinks are silver and gold and very classy. I’ve never actually noticed a man wearing cufflinks before today. My father never did.
“No, your aunt doesn’t scare me. I just wish the first time I met her my face didn’t look like a pimp knocked me around. Her words, by the way.”
His gaze grows intense as he studies my face before slowly moving onto the rest of me. I’m back in the sundress and heels with the swimsuit underneath. As he looks me over, his eyes shift color to the darker haze that I’m beginning to understand. The inside of the house is cool, but it’s not the reason a shiver passes over my skin.
Moon makes no comment on my appearance. His eyes did that for him. “You should have kicked my aunt and her ladies out on their asses.”
His words barely register. I’m so caught up in the sexual intensity of his eyes that I’m wondering if I sat on his lap right now, would he take it several steps further. I try to control myself and pull my brain out of the gutter. I manage to respond to what he just said. “This is your home and Danita is your aunt. You asked me to give her a chance. That’s the only reason she doesn’t have a swollen face to match mine.”
Moon slides his hand across the table and grasps my fingers. “While you’re here, this is your home too. If someone needs the boot, be my guest. That includes my aunt.” He rubs the pad of his thumb over my wrist. A jolt of energy runs through me at his touch. The ring on his thumb offers a marked coolness compared to the warmth of his skin. “I doubt you’ll have additional trouble from Danita.” Moon tightens his grasp on my hand and pulls me closer. He runs the side of his other hand down my cheek. “I’ve seen you without the bruises and I know what’s underneath. These don’t detract from your beauty—they tell me you’re strong, a survivor.”
The words and the way he’s looking at me increase the electrical charge that’s traveling straight to my inner thighs. I’m unable to resist him and wonder why I even try. He’s leaving in a few minutes and I need to change the conversation or I’ll be a sexually deprived mess after he’s gone. I move the discussion back to something I find intriguing. “Why does Danita run the escort service?”
Moon lowers his arm and releases my fingers. We each take a bite of our sandwiches. I’m willing to give him time to decide if he wants to answer. He eats slow and sexy, savoring each bite. This doesn’t help my attempt at changing the subject. He wipes his lips and meets my gaze again.
“My aunt started the business before I was born. My father was not pleased. Her escort service was not as refined as it is now and there were always problems, mostly with the police. My father completely disowned Danita when I was a young child. After his death, a competitor tried to take over Danita’s business. The man was nasty and making life,” he hesitates, “difficult for her. My life had changed drastically and Danita contacted me. I stepped in and took control of the business. I needed the money back then and made some changes that have been very profitable for both of us.”
This is far more information than I expected. “Doesn’t the risk of arrest outweigh the financial gains?”
Moon’s lips tilt with a very slight quirk and I think maybe my question amuses him.
“You have no clue the amount of money these women make—think millions if they work hard. The professional sports teams in this state alone help keep us in business. And…” he gives me a reproachful look, “there is nothing illegal about offering a man paid companionship.”
It’s almost like he’s teasing me. “I’m supposed to believe that all they do is accompany men around the city?”
Moon’s eyes go wide and now I know he’s teasing me. “This is where your naivety comes in again.” He must see my eyes narrow at the word “naivety” because his voice softens. “There’s one client who pays women to eat in front of him. He’s been kicked out of restaurants for that particular fetish. He’s never had sex with one of the girls. They bring a fast food meal with them, sit at the table with him inches away, eat the meal, and leave. The list goes on. Yes, sex is sometimes involved.” At my look of disbelief, he amends his last statement. “Well, more often than not, sex is involved. We charge by the hour for the service we provide. That service is strictly to offer companionship. What an escort does during that time is her business. They keep one hundred percent of their tips and also a percentage of the hourly charge.”
I’m hung up on the story of a man with the eating fetish. Moon takes another bite of his sandwich and then I get it. Before Moon, I would have denied having my own fetishes. Now, I’m not so sure. I watch him eat and think about the women who work for him.
“Does it bother you that these women sell their bodies?”
Moon’s expression doesn’t change. He again wipes his lips before speaking. “What is the feminist movement about if not for women to choose what they do with their bodies? The women who work for me have that choice. Many do it to pay for college or simply want the finer things in life.
And some, which I know you may find hard to believe, truly enjoy the work. A few of them take only one or two clients a week or have a couple of steady ones that they’re exclusive with. If they’re smart, they save money so they can retire while young. What happens between client and escort after the door closes is not my business as long as the women aren’t hurt.” His voice takes on a hard edge that I know isn’t directed at me. “You’ve seen how I feel about a man who mistreats a woman.”
I have and I actually approve. Oh, I want to argue the point about the women selling their bodies. Really, though, should I be making moral or legal judgments about these women? The rare prostitutes I dealt with in Sunnyslope were after their next fix. I never had one tell me they were trying to get through college or enjoy the finer things in life. Not that I think these are good excuses, but prostitution is one of those gray areas for me and Moon pointed out all the reasons why. I’ve always had a problem with the legal aspect of what I can do with own body if I hurt no one else. As a cop, it was my job to enforce laws and it didn’t matter if I agreed with those laws or not. I did my job. That doesn’t mean I didn’t give thought to my personal classification of right and wrong.
We finish our sandwiches in a comfortable silence. We’re sitting in the kitchen alcove again. Moon turns to me after depositing our plates and glassware in the dishwasher. I follow him with our glasses. He hooks an arm around my shoulder and pulls me in close so my nose is at his throat and he can thread his fingers through my hair. His tone is husky when he speaks and I go all shivery. “Gabriella is cooking a special dinner for us. I would like to eat in the large dining room and ply you with Champagne.” His other hand is splayed over the straps of my sundress that crisscross at my back. I like how warm he feels against my cool flesh.
Heat: An Alpha Male Criminal Romance (A Hotter Than Hell Novel Book 1) Page 14
