My Gigolo (9 page)

He breathed in through his nose, then out through his mouth. He could do this. He could spend time with her, ease her into a relationship. It wasn’t lying, really. He did want to get away from the city and his former job. She didn’t have to know about the “former” part. Yet.

“Come on, Jack. Sitting out here twiddling your thumbs won’t do anything but give you early arthritis.”

True enough. He snagged his duffle bag from the passenger seat and climbed out, grinning a little as he looked around her yard. It looked so familiar, though he’d only seen it the once. Still neatly trimmed, the grass was infinitely greener than it had been back in February. He wondered if she mowed it herself or hired someone to do it for her until he realized he was still stalling and made himself climb up to the porch.

“No guts, no glory.”

Gabe answered the door with a wide smile, her eyes lighting up. He didn’t bother hiding his return smile. She was glad to see him. Definitely a good sign.

“Well, well. Jack Savage. What have you been doing with yourself?”

She pushed the storm door open. He didn’t bother getting all the way inside before dropping his bag, throwing his arms around her, and planting a big, wet kiss on her mouth. He’d wanted to do it for two months. She chuckled and opened to him, flicking her tongue against his lower lip in invitation.

He hadn’t really kissed her before—just the once during that first bout of sex. He usually didn’t kiss his clients unless they specifically requested it. A kiss was a little more intimate than he wanted with a stranger, and he’d long since given it up.

But this…

She threaded her fingers into his hair, pulling him close and tilting her head for better access. Her mouth tasted like honey and Tabasco sauce. He pulled away for a moment and ran his tongue over his lower lip.

“What have you been eating?”

That crooked grin. He’d thought of it entirely too much. It was so…
Gabe
.

“I was sampling the chili. It’s still cool enough in the evenings to really enjoy a good, hot bowl, don’t you think?”

He kissed her again, sliding one hand down over her butt and giving it a squeeze. He couldn’t believe it was this easy. A small part of him felt bad for letting her think this was all he wanted her for, but he pushed that part away. He’d feel bad later. Right now, he was sampling some damn fine chili.

“So tell me about Mike.”

She blinked at him, a spoonful of chili halfway between her bowl and her mouth. “Mike? What do you want to know?”

He shrugged. “She’s quite a character. Not just anyone would buy her kid sister an escort for her birthday.”

Putting down her spoon, she stared hard at him for a long moment. How personal did she want to make this? Sure, he’d said he wanted to stay all weekend, but that didn’t make this anything more than great casual sex. Did he really want to get to know her?

His smile didn’t falter, but he did raise an eyebrow when she didn’t answer.

“Mike is…definitely not the usual sister.” She dropped her gaze to her bowl and poked her spoon at a kidney bean that caught her attention. “When our aunt died, Mike became my legal guardian so we wouldn’t have to be separated. She practically raised me.”

“Your parents?”

She frowned, flicking a glance up to gauge his expression. He wasn’t smiling anymore, but he didn’t look distressed, either.

“When I was two, they left me and Mike at our Aunt Tab’s and jumped a ship to some third world country to become missionaries.”

“Wow.”

“Yeah.”

She spooned beans to one side of her bowl and hamburger to the other as the silence spun out. He seemed to be thinking this information over as he ate steadily. At least he liked the chili.

“So, do you know where they went? Do you ever hear from them?”

“I don’t even know what they looked like. Mike remembers, I think, but they weren’t exactly the family portrait type.”

He made some noncommittal noise and spooned in another bite of chili. “Where’d you pick up your love of football?”

She smiled, grateful that he’d changed the subject, even a little. “That was all Aunt Tab. Her husband was a Chiefs fan even back when they were the Texans. He was loyal ’til the day he died.” Her smile deepened. “Aunt Tab kept up the tradition and it kinda got passed down to us. I wish I could have met him. She always said I carried a bit of his ghost because we were too much alike.”

“How long were you with her? Must have been a long time to breed such loyalty to a team that hasn’t been to the Super Bowl since—”

“Hey!” She laughed, lobbing a slice of bread at him. “A team is more than its post-season record, you know.”

“As anyone with such a shoddy post-season record will attest.”

“Jerk.” Shaking her head, she shot him an assessing look. “And just who holds your loyalty, oh god of the gridiron?”

“You don’t want to know.”

“Oh, no. If you’re a Raiders fan, you can leave right now.”

He threw back his head and laughed, and she couldn’t help but be glad he’d called. She was a little surprised that he hadn’t scooted her up against a wall and banged her senseless when he first walked in, but she was glad now that he’d decided to wait until later to put any moves on her. This was fun.

“If I were a Raiders fan, I’d never admit it to you. And I’d have never survived this long in Kansas City. No, I have to admit to being in a bigger pit of loyalty than you.” Straightening his expression, he sat up taller and folded his hands on the table. “If you must know, I am a Bears fan.”

“Shut up.”

“I will not. Da Bears.” The corner of his mouth twitched. “I live for the times they beat Green Bay.”

Now
she
threw her head back, hooting at the ceiling at both his preference and at the mental image of such a fine specimen going berserk over a football game. Somehow, she’d have never guessed it of him.

“Oh, Jack. Oh, God, that’s hilarious.”

“I’m sure. And now I will point out that my reaction to your team preference was far less unkind than yours to mine. You
so
owe me.”

She shot him a glance despite her winding down chuckles. He wore an absolutely angelic expression of patience that she didn’t trust any further than she could spit a dead rat.

“Owe you what, exactly?”

He picked up his spoon. “A boon, milady. A favor to be named at some later time.” His eyes met hers, darkening to forest shadows, and her laughter dried up. “Deal?”

Not sure why she was agreeing, she nodded, feeling a much less carefree smile quirk her lips. She had no idea what kind of favor a man like Jack would request, but she doubted she’d dislike it too much.

They ate in companionable silence for a while, Jack even getting up for seconds and then thirds. She grinned and debated ribbing him about it, then held her tongue. She couldn’t think of any snarks that wouldn’t come off sounding flirtatious, and she didn’t really intend to flirt with him. Surely, they were beyond that stage. Or were there stages to a booty call?

“How old were you when you and Mike ended up on your own?”

The question sideswiped her, and she coughed into her milk, then swallowed wrong and choked. She thumped herself on the chest with her fist, trying to breathe and cough at the same time. Getting herself under control took a long, painful minute, and her eyes watered enough to need wiping with her napkin.

Thankfully, he didn’t jump up and run around the table to give her the Heimlich maneuver. She’d never forgive herself if her weekend gigolo spent the evening performing CPR.

“I am so sorry, Gabe. Are you all right? I didn’t think it’d catch you so off guard. Can I get you anything?”

Blinking blearily, she shook her head, coughed again, then reached across the table for his water. He met her halfway with it, and she swigged a big gulp, trying to wash away the catch that made her want to choke some more. Feeling a little better, she handed his glass back.

“Keep it. Are you all right?”

“Yeah.” Her voice cracked. She sounded terrible. “I’m all right. You didn’t do anything. I just got ahead of myself.”

She felt herself blushing and hoped he’d attribute it to the coughing fit. Fortunately, when she looked up, all she saw on his face was concern and sympathy.

“Do you not want to talk about your family?”

Shifting uncomfortably, she shrugged. “I dunno, really. I guess Mike and I just don’t talk about it. Something we got over, you know? It’s…kind of hard to think about. She was nineteen, and there she was with a twelve-year-old kid of her own.”

He whistled softly and shook his head. “But you both turned out well, so she must have done something right.”

“Everything Mike does is right. She’s got the magic touch. She makes success out of ashes.”

His smile was more realistic than hers. “You admire her.”

“I love her. She’s my sister. She gave up everything for me.”

He tilted his head to one side. “She seems happy to me. At least, that’s what she said when I thought she was calling me for her.”

Her eyes widened. “You what? What did she say?”

A sheepish grin made him look about half his age. “Well, keep in mind that most of my clients pretend to be looking me up for friends or relatives when they first call.”

“I get that.”

“Anyway, she let me know in no uncertain terms that she really was calling for her sister and that she was a happily married woman.” He shrugged. “So what, exactly, did she give up for you?”

She frowned, doodling invisible circles on the table with her index finger. “Well, she’s happy now, but then…well, she gave up all her chances. She had a scholarship to a good college that she had to turn down. She had to go to work, though she got a bookstore job that she still claims she loved beyond all reason. I dunno. I guess I feel like she could have done so much more than get married and have kids…if it hadn’t been for me.”

Her gaze firmly fixed on the wood grain of the table, she listened to him breathe for a long moment. She didn’t want to know what he was thinking. She didn’t want to be having this conversation. She didn’t usually talk to anyone—even her friends—like this, and certainly not to Mike.

“I guess you’re entitled to your opinion, but she sounded happy to me.”

“She is. I didn’t mean that she isn’t.”

He stood and picked up his empty bowl. “Should I rinse these before putting them in the dishwasher?”

“Nah. It’s a good one, so long as you don’t leave chunks.”

He picked up hers, too, and she glanced up to gauge his expression. He didn’t look bored or falsely sympathetic. What was going on in his mind? Why would he care about her history?

And when would they get to the sex, already?

It was only a matter of time before she asked him to leave.

He watched her turn a page in her book as she swung lazily in the godawful porch swing, and he wanted to kick himself. Why was he inside, looking at her through the storm door, when he should be out there, getting to know her better?

He should have made love to her last night. He’d wanted to, but he didn’t know how to just have sex when he wanted to do more. He’d had entirely too much sex. He wanted to make love.

She’d made herself discreetly understood when they went to bed, and he’d muttered a lame response about leaving his bag downstairs and claimed to be too comfortable just holding her to get up and get a condom. What kind of excuse was that? Not only had he likely damaged any credibility he might have had with her, but he’d halfway insulted her, too.

So he sipped his coffee and stared at her like an idiot, wondering when she’d come back inside and make up some excuse to send him on his way. Why was this so hard?

But he knew that one, too. It was hard because he wasn’t being completely honest with her. He wanted too much to give her what he knew she wanted.

Could he fix it? If he walked out there right now and kissed her, would she let go of her suspicion? Would she let him lead her upstairs?

Only one way to find out.

He put his coffee cup on an end table and opened the door. She looked up from her book, as wary as when he first showed up for her birthday—as if any ground he’d made up was gone.

“Good book?”

“Not as good as I’d hoped.”

“Please don’t tell me it’s
Great Expectations
.”

She grinned, some of the wariness leaving her eyes.

“Could you stand an interruption?”

She shrugged and marked her place with a playing card. He courteously waited until she was done, then plucked the book from her hands. Suspicious, she watched him place it on the grill and then squeaked adorably when he reached down, picked her up around the waist, and tossed her over his shoulder.

“Jack, what the—”

“Hush, woman.” He flung open the storm door and strode through, bee-lining for the staircase.

“What on earth—”

“Shh.”

She sputtered and thunked her knee into his chest hard enough that he grunted.

“Hey! You know, if you hit someone hard enough in just the right place, you can actually stop their heart.”

“What are you doing?”

“I decided to leave today instead of tomorrow, so I am currently preparing to take off all of your clothes with my mouth.”

Her body tensed, and he bettered his grasp on her thighs so she couldn’t knee him again. She didn’t protest further as he started up the spiral, though, so he figured he must have said something right. Too bad he’d now committed himself to leaving early, but it was probably a good move strategically. He couldn’t appear to want her too much outside the sack.

“I should warn you that I know Tae Bo, buddy.”

He smirked and dropped her onto the bed. She landed in a sprawl, her hair in her face as she glared up at him, her eyes gleaming.

“Tae Bo, huh?”

Her glare turned sheepish. “Well, tae bo aerobics.”

God, she was cute. Grinning like a fool, he bent down and braced a hand on either side of her. Her eyes were the perfect shade of brown—dark and deep, but still warm and vibrant. Just like her.

“What are you doing, Jack?”