My Gigolo (23 page)

“Actually, he’ll be down next weekend, and I may need your help.”

His eyebrows shot up. “I refuse to have a threesome with my best friend and a male prostitute, no matter how much he could teach me about my hips.”

The laughter bent her over forward this time, and she had to brace her hands on her knees to keep from falling down. He’d burned an indelible image into her brain that would probably horrify her later, but for now she savored every hilarious moment.

“It’s not funny. There’d be weirdness later.”

She couldn’t catch her breath. Every time she got over one bout, she saw Jack pulling away from her and gesturing for Doug to take over and got to laughing again. She’d be traumatized if she kept it up, but oh, she’d go to therapy with a smile.

“Cut it out!”

Finally gathering some semblance of control, she heaved for air and swiped at her eyes with one forearm, the other hand still braced on her knee.

“Oh…oh, Doug…that was priceless…”

“So glad you’re enjoying yourself, pervert.”

She chuckled but reined herself in. “Come on. You know me better than that. I just want your help planning something for Jack’s birthday this weekend. A party or something, but very small. I’m not even sure Phil would want to come, though I suppose I’ll ask him.”

Still obviously piqued, Doug crossed his arms and seemed to consider. “Do you mean like a stay-here-and-barbeque kind of party or a go-out-to-a-movie kind of thing?”

“I don’t know. I just thought of it, but I think he might enjoy having another friend in this neck of the woods.”

He smirked. “You want to do something nice for him.”

Suddenly uncomfortable, she stood straight and tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “Yeah, so?”

“Nothing.” His smirk softened to a grin. “What does he like to do?”

Lightning struck. She smiled.

“How’s your pirate lingo?”

Throwing off his tie and loosening the top buttons of his dress shirt, Jack settled back into his couch with a tired sigh. He was three hours late getting home, but he’d had to perform a last-minute reformat for the star reporter’s hard drive. A virus had corrupted all the data, including the working copy for the evening’s first story. No matter how many times his department sent out e-mails about not opening unexpected attachments, someone always had to go and open one.

Luckily, he’d done a basic reformat in record time by skipping a few non-critical updates. Thanks to an equally obliging copy editor, the evening news had gone off without a hitch. Even better, he had more good news for his dad and a whole evening in which to enjoy it.

Keying in the old phone number left him feeling a little sad. He didn’t know it by heart anymore and had to read it out of his long-lost address book. Would anyone even answer? His dad would, he knew, but what if his dad wasn’t home? Would his mother so much as jerk her hand toward the receiver if she saw the caller ID?

He tried to hide his sigh of relief at his dad’s nasal “Hello?”

“Hey, Dad. How’s the pacemaker?”

“Jack! Good to hear from you, son. How’s that new job going?”

Closing his eyes and shaking his head, he wondered why he’d bothered worrying about his mother checking the caller ID. If the old man’s pleased surprise was any indication, they didn’t even have the feature.

“Surprisingly well, since you ask. That’s why I’m calling so late. I just got home.”

“Have they promoted you yet?”

He laughed. “Not quite yet. Don’t hold it against them, though. They’re news people. They never see genius when it parades in front of them. They have to dig in people’s garbage for it.”

His father huffed a dry chuckle. “Don’t get me started on the media. I don’t think your phone bill could handle the rant.”

“As much as I’d like to find out, I did call for a reason. I have more good news. Which would you rather hear first, the financial good news or the personal good news?”

A snort. “I’m a Yankee.”

“Right. Financial good news it is.” He twisted to lie back in the couch and get comfortable. “I heard from the financial aid department, and I should be able to get two grants to cover all my tuition. The help desk job will cover books and most of my rent, so I shouldn’t need to borrow any money from you.”

“That is great news, but I’ll be sending you a little here and again, anyway. I don’t want you working yourself to death trying to make the rent. You focus on your schooling and don’t let those reporter types take advantage of your smarts.”

“Isn’t that what all good employers do?”

“Pssh. A lot you’d know, Mr. Freelance.”

A broad smile split his face. His dad was actually joking about his former career. Did wonders never cease?

“That kind of brings me to my next good news. Are you ready for this?”

“Hit me.”

He paused to savor the moment. “I met a girl.”

“I suspect you’ve met a lot of girls, Jack.”

He coughed, feeling a blush heat his cheeks. “Not like that. I mean a
girl
, not a client. She’s…Dad, she’s amazing.” Smiling up at the ceiling, he put into words what he hadn’t quite dared to think until the last few weeks. “I think she’s the one.”

“Are you playing with me, young man?”

“Nope.”

His father paused just long enough that his delight at his admission began to fade.

Finally: “Hold on a minute.”

He frowned as he heard the unmistakable sound of phone on coarse fabric, then winced his cell away from his ear as his dad bellowed.

“Vivien!”

He sat up straight, nearly falling out of the couch. “Dad, no. Bad idea. Dad!”

“Woman, get downstairs!”

“Dad, I’m begging, really—”

“Just a minute, son. Vivien, you won’t believe it. Guess who I have on the phone.”

He squinted both eyes shut and wished himself stone deaf.

Very faintly in the background, he heard his mother’s voice for the first time in three years. “What on earth, Willard?”

“Your son has found a girl he wants to marry.”

Silence. Miserable with a cross between mortification and sick anticipation, he waited for the explosion. Or for another three years of ice. Whichever came first.

“Don’t you want to talk to him?”

He waited.

After a long moment, his mother’s faint voice again: “I hope she’s a nice girl. Tell him I said so.”

“Vivien…”

“It’s all right, Dad.”

Actually, it was better than all right. He hadn’t expected her to comment, let alone send him her equivalent to well wishes by proxy.

“No, it isn’t. None of it’s right.” His father huffed a grunt. “That woman can hold a grudge longer than God Himself.”

“I thought God was all about forgiveness.”

A snort. “He’s still holding a single apple against us. He may have forgiven on paper, but He sure hasn’t forgotten the debt.”

He chuckled, still uncomfortable. “And yet Mom takes longer. Go figure.”

“She’ll come around.”

But they both knew better.

“If you say so. Look, I gotta go, but I did want to give you my good news.”

“And it
is
good news, son. Both sides of it. Maybe you’ll bring your girl for a visit sometime?”

“You don’t know how much I’d love to do just that.” And he would. Someday. Maybe. “See you soon?”

“Count on it.”

He flipped his cell closed and put it on the coffee table, caught between a grin and a sigh. He probably shouldn’t get his hopes up just because he’d met her family and called her for no good reason once. In the grand scheme of things, it wasn’t much. But he measured things differently when it came to Gabe, and those small things seemed like a huge leap forward.

The grin took over, and he shot his cell phone a measuring glance. Did he dare push his luck and call her for no good reason again? He wanted to just talk to her. Maybe tell her a little about his day, though he couldn’t really tell her how hard such a quick reformat was or describe the look of stricken gratitude on the poor reporter’s face when Jack plugged the corrupted hard drive into a remote port and produced an earlier draft of the lead story.

Shrugging, he stood and unbuttoned the rest of his shirt. He could use a shower to wash away some of the stress of the day. Being the go-to guy was exciting, yes, but working with a deadline took some getting used to. As did not sharing the excitement.

But he could always tell her later when he told her the whole truth.

“Gabe?”

She smiled. Jack sounded so surprised to hear from her. After all, it was the first time
she
had called
him
.

“I kinda hesitated to call. I didn’t want to interrupt anything.”

“No, no. You’re not interrupting.” Now he sounded pleased. “What can I do for you?”

“I was just wondering what time you think you’ll be down this weekend.”

“Ah, those plans I’m not supposed to know about, I take it?”

She put up a token protest, her smile turning to her more usual crooked grin. “Of course not. You’re getting nothing but a boxed cake mix and some macaroni and cheese.”

“Will you be wearing the boxed cake mix and macaroni and cheese?”

Laughing, she twisted back and forth in her office chair and fiddled with her favorite pen on her desk. “Now there’s an image.”

“Oh, yeah. I’m picturing it now.”

“Who knew you were a food perv?”

“There’s a lot of stuff you don’t know about me.”

“I don’t doubt it.” She was inordinately glad no one could see the sappy expression on her face. “Maybe I’ll ask about some of that stuff sometime. Until then, do you know when you might be down?”

“Aw, it’s so flattering that you can’t wait to see me.”

“Yeah, yeah. Now gimme.”

“I could probably be there by eight. Maybe earlier if I skip the shower and pack ahead of time so I don’t have to stop by the apartment.”

“No, take your time. I don’t want you ending up in an accident or anything.”

“Aw, Gabe, you’re such a softie.”

“Oh, hush.” But she smiled again and bit at her lower lip. “And drive safe. I’ll see you then?”

“Wouldn’t miss it. And I’ll bring my appetite.”

“Sicko.”

“Foodsex Nazi.”

Laughing, she hung up on him and dropped her cell phone into her purse. She stood with a stretch and headed for the front desk, hoping Cheryl hadn’t left for lunch yet. Her luck was in.

“Thank you for calling Donnigan & Callum. This is Cheryl. How may I help you?”

She leaned on the desk’s raised ledge and looked down at her friend with a smile. Cheryl’s phone voice was completely different from her speaking voice. It was almost nine-hundred-number sexy, though never unbusinesslike.

“He’s out to lunch at the moment, ma’am. Can I take a message, or would you prefer voice mail?” She looked up and rolled her eyes. “No problem, ma’am. Hold just a moment while I transfer you.”

Cheryl pushed a few buttons, then took off her headset, her hands fretting at her pretty, if not naturally red, hair.

“Having fun yet?”

“Please,
please
tell me it’s lunch time.”

“It is. Want some pub fries? I know a great place.”

Wrinkling her nose, her friend stood and brushed at her skirt. “I don’t want to come back smelling like smoke. Can we hit the deli on the corner? I’m not starving, really, just tired of listening to the phone ring.”

“Can do. Besides, I want to ask you something important.”

Blue eyes narrowed and focused like tracking lasers. “Ask away.”

“Oh, no.” Impervious to Cheryl’s penetrating stare, Gabe grinned. “Not until we’re seated comfortably at some place with Coke and food.”

A few token protests got them to the door, and a few more digs for information had them standing in line at the deli. The smallish restaurant was only a block and a half away from the law office, so they were well used to both the walk and the wait.

“Come on. We’re here.”

“I have no Coke. I am incapable of asking important favors without Coke.”

“Aha! So it’s a favor.”

“You are impossible.”

“Just tell me, already.”

But she refused to be swayed until they were comfortably ensconced in a ferny, sunny corner with sodas before them and menus folded on the table. When she’d delayed as long as possible, Gabe folded her hands primly on the table and met her friend’s impatient gaze.

“I would very much like you to join us at Arg, Me Hearties this weekend for Jack’s birthday.”

Cheryl’s eyes widened. “The guy?”

“Yup. The guy.”

“You want me to hang around with you and the guy?”

“And Doug and Phil, of course.”

She blinked, her mouth dropping open. “You’re introducing him to The Friends?”

“Bite your tongue. I already have.”

“No. Way.”

“Come on, are you in?”

“Of course. I have
got
to meet this guy.” Her eyes narrowed and a strange smile twisted her lips. “Plus, I can’t wait to see Phil again. He is
so
easy on the eyes, even if he’s a little young for me.”

“Jack ain’t so bad, either.”

“Yeah, but I can’t have Jack, can I?”

Gabe rolled her eyes. “No. And you don’t have to try to jealous me into my feelings. I’ve already admitted them. Back off, Man Hound.”

Cheryl sat back and crossed her legs at the knee, smoothing her business-short skirt straight along her thighs. “Just doin’ what I can with what I got.”

“And yes, I want you to meet him.” She shifted, dropping her gaze to her place setting. “I think he needs more friends, and you guys are the best I have. Plus, I trust you all not to make a scene and make him uncomfortable.”

“A scene?”

She’d come this far. No sense chickening out now. “Well, it’s like this. Remember when I said it wasn’t possible for us to have any kind of relationship?”

“Of course.”

“It’s because…and please don’t take this the wrong way because he’s a great guy and has become a very good friend on top of everything else. But he’s…” She paused, then continued in a lower voice. “A male prostitute.”

Silence. She didn’t dare look up. She picked at the linen napkin wrapped around her silverware, straightened her place setting, plucked at the corner of her menu. The silence grew until it seemed to block out even the ambient restaurant noise around them.