My Gigolo (21 page)

“Um…I’m not sure I did the right thing here, but to give you fair warning, I told Darren everything.” Mike looked at him earnestly, her eyes so like her sister's in both color and expression. “I debated if it was any of my business to tell, but I felt his knowing might prevent any discomfort over the dinner table. Forewarned is forearmed and all.”

“No argument here. I’m kinda relieved that I don’t have to tiptoe around it. Besides, I’m not that person anymore. I can’t believe I stayed in the business so long. The whole thing seems stupid now.”

She turned slightly to him and crossed one knee over the other. “Okay, I have to confess that I came over here for a reason, and not just to confess. I’m curious. Did you recognize the girl? Doug’s girlfriend? Is that how she knew you?”

He snorted. “I did recognize her as a right bitch from the start, but no, I didn’t recognize her as a client.” Shifting uncomfortably, he finally tore his gaze from the activity across the room and glanced at Mike. “It was the damn leather pants.”

One eyebrow shot up. “Leather pants?”

He cleared his throat and dropped his eyes. “I asked Reggie what I should wear. I didn’t want to dress up, but I didn’t want to show up in jeans yet again, either. She suggested that, to avoid Gabe’s suspicion of it being a date, I should wear something to remind her that I’m supposed to be a prostitute.”

Silence. He didn’t want to look up. But when the silence dragged on too long to be ignored, he finally did, only to see his not-girlfriend’s sister trying desperately not to laugh.

His eyebrows drew together. “This is not funny.”

“I know.”

“Then why are you laughing?”

“I’m not.”

“Only because of what I suspect is a supremely iron will.”

The laughter escaped, drawing a few surprised and amused glances. He tried not to squirm, but he had no control whatsoever over the blush across his nose and cheeks.

“Leather pants!”

“Shut up!”

Gabe shot them a curious glance, and he wanted to sink into the floor. He put a hand over his face and slumped down in his chair.

“I can’t help it. It’s just so…you.”

“Oh, God.”

“Sis, are you tormenting Jack? You know you’re only supposed to torment me.”

Crap. He refused to remove his hand from his eyes. What he didn’t see wouldn’t mortify him. He hoped.

Mike’s guffaws tapered down to gasping chuckles. “Of course not.” Another chuckle. “I was just…inviting him to stay for supper with us.”

“Miiiiike…”

“Gaaaabe…”

He peeked up at Gabe through his fingers. Her narrowed eyes and scowl were at odds with the giant red clown smile and the flower on her cheek.

“Field Marshal Rommel could have taken tactics lessons from you, and World War II might have turned out differently.” Gabe's eyes narrowed further. “What are you up to?”

“Hey, now. World War II turned out the way it did because Hitler refused to follow Rommel’s advice. What does that say about you, kiddo?”

He coughed and removed his hand from his face to better gawk.

“That I’m glad I’m not a dictator, because if I were, listening to you would only make me a better one.”

Mike snorted. “History would have to be the judge of that. I’m more interested in the future a couple of hours from now.”

To his infinite relief, Gabe’s expression eased, and she smiled. “What are you up to? Really?”

“Nothing. I am innocent as the driven snow.”

“Pssh. More like the yellow snow after the dog leaves.”

“Hey!”

Swallowing his own laughter this time, he stood and put out his hands for quiet. “Ladies, please. There are children present.”

Mike winked. “Since when has that ever stopped us? Gabe, get back to work. Mush!”

Rolling her eyes, Gabe complied with a backward smile at him. He felt his own face soften into a silly grin. She wasn’t angry with him anymore, if she ever had been.

“You love her, don’t you?”

“Yeah.” He sat back down beside Mike, his gaze again glued to the clown across the room. “I should probably walk away like Phil said, but I just can’t.”

“Don’t.”

She put a hand on his arm, and he turned, surprised, to stare at her. Her eyes were so like Gabe’s, all warm chocolate and sincerity.

“I won’t tell you that she loves you. She’s not free enough with her emotions for me to say any such thing. But she does like you, and the fact that she’s told you even a little about our past and created a public scene on your behalf tells me she likes you a little more than she’s comfortable with. I can’t promise it’ll ever work out, but…Jack, you’ve gotten further with her than anyone since her last boyfriend. I don’t want that to stop. Not yet. Not when you’re so close.”

He considered that intent, anxious expression for a long moment. He liked Mike. He didn’t think she was setting him up for failure, at least not intentionally. If she said Gabe was hooked even a little, she honestly thought so.

“Then I will graciously accept your invitation to dinner.” He returned his attention to his clown, who had picked up the birthday girl and wore no hint of that pale, large-eyed solemness that had so worried him. “Provided you stop making fun of my leather pants. I happen to think I look damn good in them.”

Her renewed laughter brought more amused glances, but he didn’t mind so much.

Supper went better than Mike had any right to expect. She couldn’t quite believe what she was seeing. Her little family—and by some strange miracle, she understood that Jack might well become family someday—looked so happy.

“So all these little old ladies are lining the street, right? And Gabe’s just rocking in that godawful old porch swing—”

“It’s not godawful. That’s the best porch swing ever.”

A snort. “And just what color is it again?”

“…Green? Ish?”

“I rest my case. So anyway, I know my talents, you know, so I take off my shirt and—”

Smiling, she let the jabber flow over her. Darren, the wonderful sport that he was, laughed heartily at Jack’s entertaining tale of Gabe’s Old Biddy Patrol. Jack was almost as animated as he’d been when he called her about getting a real job. And Gabe?

Every so often, her little sister would stop laughing and just…smile. At Jack. For longer than she surely intended to. The soft, somehow personal expression gave Mike hope that perhaps somehow everything would work out all right.

“When I came in, she had this humongous sandwich waiting for me with enough meat to feed a poverty stricken nation—”

“Let me guess.” Darren shot Gabe a smirk. “Alfalfa sprouts?”

“Exactly! And I’m not kidding about the meat. I’d almost swear she butchered the animals out back and used every bit of flesh she could hack off.”

“Lovely image, Jack. Thank God the kids are in bed.”

“You gotta admit, Gabe. That was a
lot
of meat.”

Wonder of wonders, her independent, stubborn sister only snorted and socked her sexual partner on the arm, then rested her hand on his thigh. On his
thigh
. Right there in front of everyone, though the table sort of blocked the actual view.

And Jack didn’t seem to notice. Of course, the quick glance he shot Gabe was too full of warmth and quiet surprise to bear up that casual image, but he played it off well. And he seemed just as casual when he put his hand over hers.

Mike smiled. Gabe was giving in. It was only a matter of time.

“Okay, guys. I think that’s enough fun for the evening. You two have—” She cut herself off, trying not to look as horrified as she felt.

Luckily, Jack picked up where she left off without so much as a glare. “An escort’s work is never done, folks. I imagine the same goes for paralegals.”

Gabe rolled her eyes. “At least we don’t have another trial scheduled until September. This last one came a little too close to the wire.”

Standing away from the table to cover her relief, Mike went to the fridge for the bottle of Coke she always kept on hand for Gabe’s drive home. “Shall I see you two to your cars?”

To her surprise, Gabe took Jack by the hand and leaned against him with a sugary smile pasted over a positively evil grin. “No, Mom. I think my Honey Butt can walk me safely the whole twenty feet to my car.”

Darren laughed, his eyebrows shooting up. “Honey Butt? Jack, who is this imposter and what have you done to the real Gabe?”

Much chuckling and hugging and handshaking saw the guests to the door, and Mike watched her sister walk hand-in-hand with a man in the twilight. Her heart turned over, and a lump lodged in her throat. Had she done the right thing? Could any of this really work?

“They look good together.”

Darren put an arm around her shoulders, pulling her in close. She rested her head on his chest and smiled.

“Yeah, they do, don’t they?”

“Mm.”

The youngsters stole a kiss, then parted and drove their separate ways, and still she stood in the comfort of her husband’s grasp, watching until even the taillights were out of sight. She might have stood there all night if Darren hadn’t interrupted her thoughts.

“So tell me again. How did you get a gigolo’s phone number?”

She rolled her eyes and turned out the light. “Oh, honey, not again…”

July

“You look better.”

Gabe looked up from her typing and smiled. For once, she didn’t feel the need to prevaricate, though she knew Cheryl would draw unfortunate conclusions.

“I feel better. Don’t know that I can explain it, though.”

Her friend pulled the chair over closer to the desk and sat directly opposite, blue eyes concerned despite the greeting. “Isn’t it about time you tell me what’s really going on? Is it about the fuck buddy?”

Clearing her throat, Gabe winced. “I really, really don’t like that term.”

“Yeah, but it’s the only term that applies.” Blue eyes narrowed. “Unless, of course, it doesn’t apply anymore.”

“I don’t really want to talk about it—”

“But you need to.”

“Cher—”

“No. Not this time.” Cheryl sat forward, leaning her arms on the edge of the desk. “I’ve never seen you like you were. It scared me. I couldn’t tell if you really were sick or if you’d just found out that some family member had died. It’s been over a week and you do look better, but I’m worried about you. I’ve kept my mouth shut because I know you don’t like to talk about stuff, but it’s time to tell me what’s going on.”

Gabe sighed, turned to face her friend, and debated what to tell. What could she say? She couldn’t put it into words, didn’t know if anything had really changed. She liked Jack entirely too much and she finally admitted that, but what did it mean? Did it mean anything?

And why had seeing him play with her nieces and hearing Ivy call him “Nunka Jack” done such melty, swimmy things to her heart?

“You’re falling in love with him, aren’t you?”

“I am not!” She blushed, unable to meet her friend’s eyes. In a voice so soft she wasn’t sure Cher would hear it, she continued. “I think…I already have.”

“Oh, honey.” Cheryl’s voice radiated sympathy. “How does he feel about you?”

She swallowed hard. “I don’t know. It doesn’t matter.”

“How could it not matter?”

“I don’t plan on telling him. It doesn’t change anything.”

“It changes everything. It has to.”

Shaking her head, she closed her eyes. “I told you he was complicated. It’s simply not possible for us to have any kind of…of relationship. It wouldn’t be fair to tell him I love him. He couldn’t say it in return.”

“But why? Who is this guy? There must be some way.”

Opening her eyes and forcing a smile, she looked her friend full in the face. “There doesn’t have to be a way. This is how I want it. It’s the best of both worlds—love without commitment.”

Cheryl’s eyes gleamed with sympathy. “But that’s no way to live. You love him. Surely you want to be with him. What’s standing in your way? Is he married? Has he said he doesn’t love you, can’t love you?”

“No.” She tilted her head to one side, looking away from sympathy she didn’t need or deserve. “I don’t want him to love me. He likes me. I know that much. I’m…safe. It’s not a problem with him, per se. It’s just circumstance.”

“I don’t understand. Why wouldn’t you want him to love you back? You haven’t loved anyone for years. You have to take the chance on this one. The very fact that you admit it means something, for God’s sake.”

“There’s no chance to take.” A more realistic smile quirked her lips, and she turned her attention back to her friend. “I want him to be happy, and I think he is right now. I don’t want him to have to choose between what is and what could be.”

“If he loves you, it won’t be a choice.”

“Love doesn’t fix everything.” The words came out harder than she intended, and she tried to soften her tone. “Life isn’t a fairy tale. Meeting a handsome prince doesn’t mean you’ll end up a princess.”

Her friend’s shoulders slumped a bit. “I know that, but I just can’t think of you loving this guy without any hope of return. I don’t want you to end up like I did. How long could you keep it up? How long before you slip and tell him during one of his weekend visits?”

“I’ll never tell him.”

“That’s not fair to him.”

“You don’t know the situation.”

“Then tell me!” Taking a deep breath, Cheryl sat back. “I’m sorry. I know you don’t want to talk. I just…I want to help, damn it.”

“No help is needed. I’m fine. I think I’ve accepted this as the way it has to be, and I’m okay with it. I never wanted a commitment, anyway.”

She endured being stared at for a long moment. She simply looked back, relieved that she’d finally admitted her feelings aloud. It clarified things, gave her a path to follow. She didn’t feel so directionless.

Finally, Cheryl sighed. “Why do you always have to do things the hard way?”

“My sister asks me the same question all the time.”

“Your sister is wise beyond her years.”

Gabe snorted. “I will
not
tell her you said that. She already knows, and the confirmation would only make her insufferable.”