My Gigolo (17 page)

A small grin twitched his lips. “What, you don’t dance outside the kitchen?”

Either a cough or a small laugh escaped her. “I don’t usually dance at all, even in the kitchen.”

Still, she sat with her hands in her lap, not reaching for the door handle. He jingled his keys in his hand, uncomfortable for no good reason.

“Can I ask you something without sounding hateful and unappreciative and insulting?”

He frowned. “I’m pretty sure you’ve never been any of those things, Gabe.”

“Oh, yes, I have, but it wasn’t intentional. And I don’t want to sound that way now.”

Watching her carefully, he nodded. “Okay. Shoot.”

“Can we not…hold hands…or anything tonight? I don’t mind so much when we’re at home because it doesn’t mean anything there, but…”

Strangely enough, her request didn’t sting. He knew where it was coming from. “But out in public, your friends will see it as something it’s not.”

She let out a breath he hadn’t realized she was holding and looked up from her hands. “Exactly. Is that okay?”

“I hereby solemnly swear not to hug, kiss, or sexually maul you in public, including but not limited to not holding your hand, putting my arm around your shoulders, or squeezing your ass. Deal?”

He almost got a grin. “Deal. Ready?”

“Lead the way.”

She walked a little in front of him, her curls blowing in the slight breeze, her skirt outlining the curve of her leg. He really had missed her. Sure, his job kept him occupied, but he wanted to be with her, and not just on the occasional weekend. He wanted a relationship with her, God help him. In fact, as he watched her swipe a dangling curl out of her face and open the pub’s door for him, he realized something that probably should have been obvious from the start and stopped stock-still.

He was in so much trouble.

Her slight smile faltered. “What? Is my hair messed up?”

A lump in his throat made his voice hoarse to his own ears. “No, it looks great.”

She tilted her head to one side, and his heart somersaulted. “Are you okay? We can still call this off, you know.”

He loved her. He loved her reluctance. He loved her willful hair and her melted-chocolate eyes and her crooked grin and her cotton skirt. He loved that she was a terrible dancer and a worse mini golfer. He loved that she squeaked when she was surprised and baked to an almost psychotically eclectic mix of music.

“No, I’m fine. I just remembered that I forgot to…turn on my answering machine.”

Her lips quirked. “Expecting an important call?”

“You know me. I live by my telephone.”

She narrowed her eyes, then shrugged. “All right. Time to face the firing squad.”

He followed her blindly, still struck by his revelation, until she stopped at a table in the corner. Forcibly shaking off his stupor, he remembered that he was supposed to be acting a part and that he’d better get started before anyone suspected something was wrong.

“Jack, I’d like you to meet Phil, Doug and Karen.”

He nodded to each person. The black guy, Phil, studied him with narrow-eyed interest, likely sizing him up. The white guy—Mr. California with his blond hair and tan—and his girlfriend watched him with varying degrees of interest. The guy looked away first, hailing a passing waiter. The woman, Karen, eyed him a bit longer, something he didn’t trust marring her pretty face and baby blues. He’d seen her kind many times, and he made a mental note to not be too chummy with her, lest she get the wrong idea that he was open to advances.

“Sit down, guys. You’re making us nervous.” Doug smiled broadly and genuinely. Jack liked him immediately. “Tell us about you, Jack. It takes superhuman strength to break through Gabe’s cloak of obliviousness.”

He hoped his chuckle sounded realistic as he pulled out a chair for Gabe, then sat down himself. “You guys have the wrong idea, here. Gabe’s a friend through her sister. Mike shares my interest in…computer animation.”

No one seemed to notice the hesitation.

Phil sat forward, leaning his arms on the table. “How’d you meet?”

A glance at Gabe proved she would be little help. Her face was white, and she bit at her lower lip. Normally, the gesture would turn him on. Now it made him even more aware of her discomfort. He’d better not screw this up.

“Bumped into each other at the grocery store. Mike had talked about her little sister, of course, and I was curious, so it was fortuitous on both sides.”

Doug put his arm around his girlfriend. “So, how long have you been dating?”

Gabe stiffened, but he merely shrugged. “We aren’t.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Seriously. I come down to raid Gabe’s fridge every now and then. I don’t cook, and she is amazing with an oven. Plus, she has a music collection you wouldn’t believe.”

To his infinite relief, she relaxed beside him, even shooting him a grateful grin. He felt like a hero.

Phil snorted. “I’ve seen it. Too much seventies funk and eighties rock for my tastes, though I like her jazz collection.”

Gabe finally piped up. “Hey, it’s not my fault Aunt Tab was
au courant
with her musical tastes. She kept up with the times until the day she died and always told me that musical taste had to change as often as rock-n-roll did, but that the old didn’t necessarily have to clash with the new.”

“Good advice, that.” Jack nodded approvingly.

“I’d swear I know you from somewhere.”

The budding conversation halted. He reluctantly turned to look at Doug’s girlfriend, as did everyone else. He had a very bad feeling.

“Where are you from, again?”

“Kansas City.”

“Ah. I moved here from Kansas City just last year.” Pale blue eyes turned icy, and a smile sharp enough to etch glass curved her lips. “And what did you say you do for a living?”

Gabe stiffened again. Jack’s face felt numb.

“I didn’t.”

Doug glanced at his girlfriend, but didn’t seem to feel the tension growing. Phil, on the other hand, flicked his dark eyes from Jack to the girlfriend and back again.

“You don’t go by the name Blade, do you?”

Oh, shit on toast and call it a sandwich.

Before he could begin to respond, Gabe sat forward, her back rigid. “Why, Karen? How would you know a name like that?”

“Like what?” Doug asked, frowning at her intense tone.

Karen ignored him, turning her knife-edged smile on Gabe. “Does he still do that thing?”

“What thing, exactly?”

“That thing with his hips.” The woman shuddered and rolled her eyes over to him, blinking languorously. “God, it’s incredible.”

“What’s going on here?”

Both women ignored Mr. California.

Gabe, smiling almost as viciously as the other woman, folded her hands primly on the table before her. “And just how would you know how Blade Savage twists his hips? As far as I know, he only does that for paying customers.”

Phil sat back from the table, his eyes wide, and Doug choked on his beer.

“Ha! I never said his last name.” Karen smirked and crossed her arms. “You
do
know who he is.”

“As, obviously, do you. I’m curious, Karen. I got him as a birthday present, but why would you need a male prostitute? Couldn’t get anyone to look past that ice cube you call a heart?”

“Gabe!”

“Bitch!”

Karen practically leapt across the table, but Doug snagged her around the waist and hauled her back. Gabe sat stock-still, neither flinching nor backing down.

“What’s going on here?” Phil seemed to be the only calm one at the table, though his eyes were still wide and very white against his dark skin. “Someone want to explain?”

“That little bitch brought a hooker to dinner, that’s what!”

Doug shook his head, both arms wrapped around his girlfriend to keep her from vaulting over the table again. “That’s impossible. Gabe, what’s this about?”

Jack sat like a statue, wishing he’d just stayed in Kansas City this weekend. Gabe would never forgive him for this. He should have listened to her, but nooooo.

And then he nearly jumped out of his skin when she put an arm around his waist and a hand on his chest and leaned against him.

“I brought a friend to dinner with what I thought were friends, and one of you has done her very best to alienate him. As far as I know, friends don’t do that to each other.”

“Whore!”

He stood out of Gabe’s grasp and leaned down, planting his palms on the table and glaring at the ice-eyed shrew. “No, that’s
my
job description.”

Doug sputtered and Phil said something, but he couldn’t make any of it out through the pounding in his ears. His heart slammed in his chest, both in anger and dismay. There was no salvaging this.

Gabe stood beside him. “Since I was obviously mistaken in my intentions for this evening, I’m going to take my gigolo back to the house for a more pleasant sort of good time, during which I might paddle his fine ass. And maybe, just for kicks, I’ll ask him to perform his notorious hip twist for free.”

Blinking in shock, he stared down at the little spitfire he’d thought would never want to see him again, then jumped in surprise as she smacked his ass through the leather and grabbed on for a good squeeze.

“Let’s go, Honey Butt.”

Honey Butt? “Lead the way.”

She turned and headed for the door, but he pulled out of her one-handed grasp for a final parting shot. Leaning down, he smiled charmingly at the bitch of a girlfriend.

“I’m sorry I don’t have even a vague memory of you, miss, but be sure that I’ve crossed your name off my future client list. Have a lovely evening.”

Sucking in the cool night air, she tried to still her racing thoughts. They pounded almost as hard and fast as the backbeat from the radio van. Oh, she’d made a complete mess of that. Doug would never forgive her. Phil might, but she hadn’t personally insulted his girlfriend. Worse, she’d probably alienated Jack, to boot.

“Gabe?” He pressed up against her back, and she gratefully leaned against his strong bulk and hid a sigh of relief.

“I am so sorry.”

“
You’re
sorry?”

She hung her head. “I was so worried they’d think we were dating that I never once thought they’d find out what you do and use it against you like that. I hope I didn’t make you feel like a whore in there, but she just pissed me off so bad. Hateful bitch. I never did like her. Just didn’t know why until now.”

He snorted, lowering his cheek to the top of her head. “You did the opposite of making me feel like a whore, Gabe. You defended me to your friends. I feel like a million bucks.”

“But I—”

“Gabe, wait up!”

Groaning at the interruption of Phil’s voice, she pulled out of Jack’s arms and ran across the street to the parking lot. She didn’t want to hear it tonight. Maybe things wouldn’t look so bad in the morning.

“Gabe, damn it, stop.”

Whirling, she scowled. “Why? So you can dog on him some more?”

Phil put up his hands. “Hey, I didn’t say a word. I’m just trying to find out what’s going on.”

Jack stayed on the other side of the street, probably to allow her some privacy. Sullivan’s door flew open, and Doug spilled out, looking around wildly. She groaned again and turned back toward the SUV. She just wanted to go home.

“Gabe? Hey, hold on a second.”

“Doug, go comfort your girlfriend. Phil, leave me alone. Jack, please take me home.”

“Hey, no girlfriend of mine talks to my best friend like that. Even if it’s true, there’s no excuse for turning it on you like that.”

She froze and closed her eyes, listening to his footfalls come to a stop behind her. “I’m sorry, Doug. I didn’t mean for any of this to happen.”

“Is it?”

“Is what?”

“Is it true?”

Swallowing hard, she turned toward her friends again and reluctantly raised her eyes. At their intent expressions, she set her jaw and lifted her chin. “Yes, it is. Jack is a male prostitute—and a damn fine one, if my opinion counts. Plus, he’s my friend, and I don’t want anyone giving him any shit about it, all right?”

Against her will, her eyes darted a glance at Jack, and she couldn’t help relaxing a little at his grin. Phil shot him a speculative look from her side of the street. Doug’s eyes widened, and he slowly turned to look Jack over.

She waited for it all to go further to hell.

“I guess that explains why you didn’t want to tell us about him.” Finally, after a brief and considering pause, Doug flashed his infamous smile. “Dude, that must be the best job
ever
.”

His eyes never left Gabe. She slumped—with relief, he hoped—and shook her head.

“I mean, seriously. A different woman every night. No commitment.” Doug waggled his eyebrows. “Sex. All. The time.”

Mr. California was grinning ear to ear over there, but Gabe still seemed troubled. He wanted to go to her, put an arm around her, and damn if her friends got the wrong idea, but he restrained himself.

Doug turned back to her and bombarded her with questions, but he lost track of the rapid fire when he realized that her other friend hadn’t said a word and was still eyeing him. This one obviously wasn’t as enamored of his former position. This friend would be the challenge, the one to whom he’d have to prove himself.

Sure enough, Phil looked both ways and then crossed the street.

“Phil.”

“Jack.”

They stared at each other for a long moment. Jack fought to keep his expression pleasantly bland. It used to be easy, but he had to work at it now. Definitely out of practice.

“Do you know what you’re doing?”

“Do you promise not to tell her what I’m about to tell you?”

“No.”

He tried not to frown. “Look, I’m not a bad guy, and I’m not just using her, but getting around all her guards is hard enough without her knowing the whole story.”

Phil didn’t bother hiding his displeasure. “Can you make less sense?”

He shot a hasty glance at Gabe to make sure she wasn’t looking, then focused all of his attention on her friend. “I love her, all right? Yes, I used to be an escort, but I quit to be with her. But I can’t tell her that, because she thinks I’m just here for sex, and if she finds out I want a relationship, she’ll kill it and I’ll never see her again.”