My Gigolo

When a good man is hard to find, there’s only one thing left to do. Buy one.

As far as Gabrielle is concerned, her life isn’t at all a mess. It’s simply taught her a hard lesson—never rely on anyone else for her own happiness. It’s not that she’s against having sex. Far from it. It’s just that if it comes with strings tied to the word “love”, she’ll pass.

Now if only she could stop her sister and friends from trying to show her the error of her solitary ways. Especially after their latest trick—hiring a male prostitute for her birthday.

In all his time as a male escort, Jack’s never met anyone as intriguing as down-to-earth Gabe. Or as determined to refuse his charms. She has no idea whom she’s dealing with, though. Jack’s a consummate professional in all aspects of his chosen field. Including coercion.

One minute, Gabe is agreeing to a night of no-strings sex. The next, she’s staring up at a man who turns her body and soul inside out. Jack is staring down at a woman he can’t imagine never seeing again. Both are suddenly aware there are only two ways this could end: a match made in heaven…or sheer disaster.

Warning: Explicit sex, illegal sexual practices, zombies, a clown, and the strangest minigolf course ever conceived.

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This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locale or organizations is entirely coincidental.

Samhain Publishing, Ltd.

577 Mulberry Street, Suite 1520

Macon GA 31201

My Gigolo

Copyright © 2010 by Molly Burkhart

ISBN: 978-1-60504-996-0

Edited by Linda Ingmanson

Cover by Scott Carpenter

All Rights Are Reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

First
Samhain Publishing, Ltd.
electronic publication: May 2010

www.samhainpublishing.com

My Gigolo

The Care and Feeding of a Male Prostitute

Molly Burkhart

Joely, the sister I would pick if I had every sister in the world to choose from,

Professor Mike Rodgers at good ol’ MoSo, who said I was crazy to do anything but write,

the real Cheryl, who never doubted for a moment that this book would hit the shelves,

and, always, to Charlie.

September

Gabe Turner ducked as the ill-thrown Frisbee sliced the air just above her curls. She wasn’t surprised this time, though. She even managed a grin as the culprit—surely no more than thirteen if the tilt of his ball cap and his hairless face were any indication—loped by the park bench to dig the Frisbee out of the bushes.

“So this is how married couples spend their tenth wedding anniversary. I’ll pass.”

She huffed a grunt and glanced from the disorganized Frisbee game to the multitude of joggers and picnickers on the park greens. No one in their right mind trusted Missouri’s mercurial weather enough to believe this streak of fall warmth would hold out long. Thus, everyone in Kansas City had decided to enjoy it while it lasted, including her elder sister, Mike.

Said sister smiled with contentment, watching her two daughters tumble down the slide. “Darren had to work. We’re doing our thing tonight after we drop the girls off with the sitter.” Dark brown eyes turned from the pastoral scenery to Gabe’s own. “I take it you still aren’t seeing anyone?”

“Miiiiike…”

“Gaaaabe…”

Rolling her eyes, Gabe resigned herself to enduring the same old conversation. Discussion of her preference to remain single for the rest of her life—or until she lost all of her good sense—had long since spoiled in its charm, but Mike never seemed to tire of it.

“Look, I know you have independence issues, kiddo, but you gotta break sometime. Humans are social creatures. We’re not meant to be alone.”

“Yeah, yeah.” She’d never seen a better opening for a subject change. “So, what are we doing for Lily’s birthday? Should I bring the clown suit?”

Mike quirked a wry smile, apparently willing to be side-tracked. “I thought you sold that thing at your last yard sale. All the balloon animal equipment, too.”

“I would never, although I did bring out the ol’ helium tank to entertain the kiddies while their parents poked around.” Gabe grinned. “I can honestly say it was the most well-attended flop of a yard sale I’ve ever been privy to.”

“How much did you make?”

“Twenty bucks. And I spent almost that much beforehand, just on balloons.”

Yet another jogger sped by, all tanned legs and sweat-tousled hair and a flash of teeth in the sun before he was gone behind a stand of shrubs. He was so gorgeous, in fact, that she nearly fell off the bench trying to lean out far enough to see around the intervening bush. Unfortunately, the running vision was already gone, and she sighed with a moment’s real regret. Maybe a Sunday in the park wasn’t such a bad thing after all. Refusing to date didn’t mean she couldn’t get a convenient eyeful, and he’d been well worth the look.

Dark hair made darker still by trickling sweat, flashing eyes that had speared her on the instant, and long-muscled thighs that made her heart stutter even with a brief memory of the single, too-quick glance—

“You know, you could try casual sex.”

She nearly fell off the bench in shock, the jogger and his flexing, sweat-sheened thighs instantly forgotten. “
What
?”

Mike’s eyes sparkled as she calmly repeated herself. “You could try casual sex. It’s a new age, kiddo. With the right protection, sex is no more risky than a sneeze on a bus, and you wouldn’t have to deal with anyone else’s issues to have it. You’re on birth control, right? I say why not?”

Blinking, Gabe wondered if her sister—usually so level-headed and dependable—had been abducted by aliens since her last visit. The wayward Frisbee landed at her feet, but she barely noticed, even when the kid in the ball cap ran over and scooped it up again.

“Because it’s stupid!” Her voice came out tight and squeaky, but she simply couldn’t help it. “Mikaela Parker, what on earth put
that
into your head?”

A slight narrowing of disapproving eyes quieted her. They didn’t use their given names on each other. It was one of those unspoken things between them.

“How long has it been,
Gabrielle
? Seriously?” The severe expression softened. “And don’t count the football nut who got a little too frisky and required penalty flags as a deterrent. What’d he rack up again? Thirty yards?”

Though the reminder of her most amusingly bad blind date usually brought a grin to her face, Gabe couldn’t quite manage the expression. It was just like her older, wiser sister to get right to the heart of the matter without pulling a single punch, and all with a knowing glow of sympathy in eyes so like her own.

“Forty-five. And it’s four years next month.”

Returning her gaze to her girls and the Frisbee game, Mike shook her head. “That’s just not healthy for a woman your age. You’re less than three years from your sexual peak, and here you are swearing to remain single while also swearing off casual sex. What are you supposed to do? Invest in batteries for the ol’ vibrator?”

“
Sis!
”

“’Cause you’re gonna need ’em. I guarantee it.”

“Good God, what has gotten into you?”

Wide-eyed, she stared at her placidly smiling sister. Mike, seven years older and usually eons smarter, had practically raised her—with Aunt Tab’s brief help—after their parents ran off to be missionaries. Gabe often wondered at the irony of religious folk naming their darling girls after angels only to abandon them in a most ungodly fashion. What happened to “suffer the little children”?

Of course, none of that mattered at the moment. Her sister’s guardian namesake was surely blushing to the tips of his wings by now.

“Seriously, Sis. What’s this all about? Did you find out you have cancer or something?”

Mike snorted. “There is something so wrong with how your mind works.”

“I’m serious!”

“I just worry about you, kiddo. You’re all alone almost three hours away. It’s not right.” Mike shot her a measuring glance. “I know you have your friends and your job, but there’s more to life than that. I don’t want you to miss out on it because you found it too late.”

“For God’s sake, I’m twenty-seven, not seventy-two.” She shifted uncomfortably. She could never be still, especially during a lecture. “And you’re talking about sex, not a relationship.”

Her sister’s eyes narrowed. “I’m just saying that if you refuse to have the latter, you might as well start enjoying the former. Hey, I know!” Suddenly all bright eyes and wide smile, she clapped her hands. “You could get a male prostitute.”

This time, the Frisbee bonked off the side of Gabe’s head and careened off to the right, but she didn’t even flinch. Her mouth worked, open and twitching as if forming words, but no sound came out, even to acknowledge the hollered, laughing apologies from the Frisbee thrower.

“It’s perfect. It’s not like you’d ever have to worry about bumping into him somewhere and being all awkward. And if he’s from some reputable place, you wouldn’t have to worry about STDs. Why didn’t I think of this before?”

“Absolutely not!” At least she still had the capacity for speech, though she wasn’t sure her jaw would ever be the same.

Mike’s happy smile fell into a pout. “Why not?”

Gob-smacked, Gabe could only stare for a long moment. “Why not? A male prostitute?” Suddenly recalling that they sat in a very public place with kids and teenagers running around every which way, she lowered her voice to a hiss. “What is wrong with you?”

“But I could start saving now and get you one for your birthday. It’s perfect, I tell you.”

“No. Good God, I don’t know what’s flown up your butt today, but you’d better get it right back out again.” Shaking her head, she half-laughed. “And this topic is now closed for discussion. I mean it.”

Mike eyed her, probably debating the odds of carrying the conversation a little further, but a bright call from one of the girls stole the moment. She trotted over to the swings to push first one daughter, then the other, and Gabe could only slump back in the park bench, stymied. The whole afternoon seemed straight out of left field. She hardly knew what to make of it. Mike was usually the soul of tact and practicality. She’d had to be to raise a younger sister veritably on her own.

But this whole “have some sex” trip. What on earth could have prompted it? She mulled on it while her sister pushed, tickled and laughed with her precious girls and the afternoon came down around them.

Finally, she snorted, crossed her arms, tossed her wayward hair out of her face and stood to join her sister and nieces on the jungle gym.

“A prostitute. Good Lord.”

If asked, Mike Parker would say she had a good life. She’d married a good man with a good job, birthed two beautiful girls who only rarely threw tantrums in the cereal aisle, and raised a gawky, unusual, quiet little sister into an intelligent, fun-loving and independent young woman. Her family wasn’t rich, but neither were they frequently strapped for cash nor running too far behind the grocery bill.

So what if her parents had left her with a big-eyed, somber, two-year-old sibling to care for? They had at least dropped them off at Aunt Tab’s house on their way to the missionary boat for the other side of the world. Their loving aunt had given them a sense of home and family that they might have missed even if their wandering parents had stayed.

And so what if Mike had been only nineteen when Aunt Tab died and she became her twelve-year-old sister’s sole guardian? So what if she hadn’t been able to go to college just yet? She could always do so in the future. Once Lily and Ivy went to school, options for her own education opened wide.

She lived a good life. She wouldn’t change a thing.

But she wanted those things for Gabe, too. Poor kid. Still that big-eyed, staring, silent child in so many ways. Still
her
child.

“You drive safe, kiddo.” It wasn’t cold out by any stretch, but she couldn’t help wishing her little sister had brought a jacket. Just in case. “No stopping for hitchhikers. And it’ll be dark when you get home, so make sure you call or send me an e-mail so I know you got home okay.”

“Yes, Mom.” Gabe rolled her eyes, quirking her lopsided grin. “And wear clean underwear in case of a wreck. And don’t chew gum and run with scissors at the same time.”