My Gigolo (25 page)

Apparently, this was wrong, too. A lengthy pause ensued, drawing out until she felt more trapped than comforted in his arms.

“Computer graphics. Computer animation. Interactive media. That kind of thing.”

“Wow, no kidding? And here I thought it was a big deal that you found the right codec for my dust-catcher over there. You probably could’ve overhauled the whole thing without breaking a sweat.”

Thankfully, he chuckled. “Well, I’ve been told I ought to run a help desk, and I’ve been known to help out a client every now and then.”

“I bet your friends take serious advantage of those kinds of skeelz.”

He snorted. “Shameless advantage. I’ve been violated, I swear.”

“Poor baby. I promise I won’t take advantage. I usually manage just fine by myself, and anything beyond defragmenting and downloading updates will go to professionals.”

His arms tightened and he leaned down to rumble in her ear. “
I’m
a professional, lest you forget. What if I want you to take advantage of me?”

Goose bumps tickled up her arms and across her chest. He had the best voice, and damn if he didn’t know just how to use it.

“I’m sure I could swallow my pesky morals just this once.”

His lips tickled the tiny curls above her ear. “I’ll try to be especially vulnerable to attack.”

She twisted in his arms and looked down at him. His eyes fairly glowed in the unsteady TV light. His hair lay in loose, dark waves around his face, free of his fashionably tousled ’do.

She looked at him and consciously loved him. It terrified her to do so, knowing he might see it in her eyes or steal it from her heart, but she couldn’t help herself. She couldn’t look at him like this and not see how she felt.

His expression softened, his eyes widening a bit, and she startled. Desperately searching her mind for anything to say to prevent the realization she could see building in his eyes, she forced a sensual smile and reached down between them, going right for his one, true vulnerability. On cue, his eyes rolled up and his teeth clamped down on his lower lip, his head tilting back against the couch’s arm.

“Now that I have you in my clutches, what should I do with you?” She stroked, feeling him harden in her hand, his whole body tightening beneath her. “Should I be cruel and leave you alone while I go take a shower, or should I be kind and drag you into the shower with me?”

He groaned, his hands settling on her upper arms. “I’ll go anywhere you want if you just don’t stop doing that.”

Placing a light kiss on his chin, she pushed up off of him with one hand and kept a good grip on his impressively quick erection with the other. A slight tug and he stood before her, his eyes dark and his quick, warm breath fanning her forehead. Switching her grip from one hand to the other, she turned and headed for the bathroom.

Needless to say, he followed less than an arm’s length behind.

Grinning, he flicked the corner of one ticket under her nose. Said nose obligingly wrinkled, and she swatted at his hand, trying to roll over. He kept her pinned below him, though, and after several inarticulate grunts, she finally opened her eyes and glared up at him.

“What?”

His grin widened. Without saying a word, he turned the tickets so she could see them and waved them in her face.

“Ugh, hold still.” She grumbled and rubbed her eyes. “It’s too early for moving objects.”

“Come on, Gabe. This is the first time you’ve slept longer than me. Move it or lose it.”

Her bleary eyes narrowed in sleepy irritation, and she reached up to snatch the tickets out of his fingers. She brought them close to her eyes, then sat up with a gasp, nearly knocking her forehead into his. He shifted to sit back on his heels, straddling her legs and preparing for the explosion.

“Chiefs tickets? How…?”

“I know a guy. Look closer.”

She squinted, tilted her head to one side, and frowned. “What?”

“The color.”

It took a moment, but when the best part of his surprise finally sank in, her whole face lit up with excitement.

“Gold section! How on earth did you get box seats to the Chiefs?”

His satisfaction complete, he crossed his arms and smirked. “Well, they’re not division rival tickets, but I have my ways. Former clients can be very, very helpful.”

She shot him a look of equal parts amusement and irritation, but she was obviously too thrilled to hold the expression for long. Her eyes returned to the tickets clutched in her hands, and her grin returned.

“Chiefs tickets. You got
me
Chiefs tickets for
your
birthday.”

“Actually, I got me Bears tickets for my birthday.”

“Huh?”

He snickered. “Wake up a little more and look at the opponent.”

Her eyes narrowing, she focused on the appropriate lettering and scowled. “Ugh. I should have known. I am
not
sitting by you if you’re wearing Bears gear.”

“You are if you want free beer and barbeque.”

“So not fair.”

He laughed and shifted to get out of bed. “Suck it up, milady. Such opportunities only come once every six years or so. How else am I supposed to watch my Bears live?”

“Why are you so chipper? And just what are you doing up before me?”

“I’ve been alive and kicking for almost an hour.” Grinning, he reached down and snagged her around the waist. He gave her a full instant to prepare before hefting her up and over his shoulder. “Breakfast has been on the table forever, so I decided I’d better come drag your sorry ass out of bed before everything goes bad.”

Luckily, she still had the precious tickets in her hands to keep her from being irritated. She hung down his back, planting an elbow against his spine to keep from bouncing as he headed for the stairs.

“Chiefs tickets. Unbelievable.”

“Yes, I know I’m incredible. But you can tell me again, if you like.”

The elbow dug in a bit, and he chuckled. He had to be careful not to whack her head on the railing as he spiraled down the stairs. With her so enamored of his present, she likely wouldn’t dodge until it was too late.

“So, after a late,
very
late breakfast—ow!” The elbow dug in again, and he grunted a laugh and arrowed for the breakfast bar and the smell of sausage and cheese. “Easy with that thing. There’s some vital stuff back there.”

She snorted. “After breakfast—and I don’t want to hear anything else about how late it is—you get your real birthday present.”

“I thought I already got my present.” He smacked her on the butt, earning a yelp of indignation. “Or did the cake and sex only count as an appetizer?”

“Hey! Keep that up and you won’t get so much as an after dinner mint from me again.”

He set her on her feet and smiled down at her. She glowed with high good cheer—and probably from the blood rush of being upside down for a minute or so—and a wide, crooked grin gave lie to her injured tone.

“What’s my real present, then?”

“You’ll find out. I’m hungry.”

Unable to help himself, he leaned down and kissed her. He didn’t care about morning breath or her messy curls or that her pajama pants hung lower on one side than the other. He saw only the glow in her eyes, the flush of her cheeks, and the fact that she couldn’t bear to put those Chiefs tickets down long enough to give him a proper squeeze on the butt to go with the kiss.

By the time they parted, her stomach was growling. The smell of proximate food was apparently too much to bear. He let her go reluctantly, then smiled as she dug into the scrambled eggs and cheese with a will. She certainly wasn’t thin because she didn’t eat.

Must be the tae bo aerobics.

“Are you not eating?”

“Yeah. Just waiting for you to get away from the trough so I can get a bite in edgewise.”

She lobbed a piece of toast at him, laughing when it pegged him in the shoulder as he dodged.

“You do
not
want to start a food fight.” He smirked, openly taunting.

“I do if you promise to clean it up.”

“Hey, I already helped with the sheets. What do you want from me?”

Her eyes gleaming, she scooped a spoonful of cheesy eggs and took aim. Before she could even make her threat, he surrendered.

“All right, all right. Don’t shoot.” He held out his hands to the sides. “I’m unarmed and hungry. Cease fire?”

Grumbling and trying to hide her grin, she shifted the spoonful and dropped it on his plate. “Wuss.”

“Starving wuss, thank you very much.” He swiped the spoon and helped himself. “So, when do I get my present?”

“One track mind.”

“Damn right.”

“Good grief.”

“Are we there yet?”

“For the fifth time, no.”

“You know, if I took off the blindfold, I could probably stop asking.”

“The blindfold stays. Hush.”

She grinned and made the last turn into the parking lot. She passed Doug’s Jeep and Cheryl’s Honda, but she didn’t see Phil’s old Mustang. Pity. She’d hoped he would relent enough to show. Probably for the best, though.

“Can we use this blindfold later? It’s kinda kinky.”

“Jack!”

“What?”

Shaking her head, she pulled into a parking space as close to the front of the building as possible and turned off the engine. Perfect. Now, if Doug and Cheryl would just cooperate by staying inside…

“Okay, we’re here.”

“Finally.”

“Oh, hush. Big baby. Let me come around and get you.”

He obligingly waited until she opened his door and tugged him out, then made a big show of needing her support to make it up onto the sidewalk.

“You know, you really don’t have to hold onto me like this. You’re perfectly capable of walking in a straight line with just a hand on my shoulder.”

“What, are you kidding? This is a legitimate opportunity to maul you in public while looking innocent.”

Since she couldn’t debate that kind of logic and didn’t really want to, she smiled and led him up the sidewalk to the front doors. One opened as she neared, and she grinned as Doug held it wide for her. They stepped into the cool hush of air conditioning and stopped.

“Can I take it off yet?”

But she was too busy beaming at Phil, who stood next to Cheryl at the counter. He nodded once, his eyes serious but not angry, and turned back to the guy behind the register.

“Now!”

As one, everybody in the main room shouted, “Ahoy, mateys!”

Jack jumped, then grinned broadly. “You didn’t!”

She tugged the blindfold up to his forehead and grinned. “Well, I had help.”

His wide smile faded a bit as he caught sight of her friends. He nodded once at Doug and, after a split second’s hesitation, at Phil. Cheryl came forward and put out her hand. He took it, his smile rebounding.

“So you’re Jack. I’ve heard so much about you.”

Gabe snorted. “You have not.”

Ignoring the interruption, Jack shook her hand. “I hope I live up to the hype. And you are?”

“Cheryl, but Gabe calls me Cher. I work with her, so she thinks she can get away with a nickname I’ve resisted since childhood.”

He chuckled. “I guess I’ll call you Cheryl, then.” He released her hand and shifted his attention to the guys, both of whom had already picked out their putters. “Phil, Doug, good to see you again. Did you two have anything to do with this?”

Doug put up his hands and grinned. “She put a gun to my head. I swear.”

Phil was, of course, more reserved. “Happy birthday, Jack. Good to see you, too.”

He stepped closer and offered his hand, and after the slightest hesitation, Jack took it. The two stared at each other for a long moment, and Gabe felt her smile falling. Before she could step forward to intervene, though, Phil broke out into a wide smile and Jack joined suit. Their hands pumped twice, then let go.

Cheryl came to stand close, leaning over to whisper in her ear. “Did you get any of that?”

Gabe shrugged, mystified. “Not a word. Guy thing?”

“Definitely a guy thing.”

Glancing down, she raised an eyebrow. “Isn’t that skirt a little short for mini golf?”

Cheryl blushed. “Not if you make sure Phil’s turn is right after mine.”

“Shameless hussy.”

“You can talk. You brought a gigolo.”

Swallowing a laugh, Gabe reddened. “You win.” She cleared her throat and turned to the rest of the group. “Are we ready for some cannon blasting?”

Doug snorted. “Who are you kidding? The only way you’ll come in under par is if you quit halfway through.”

Phil elbowed him but had a hard time hiding his amusement. “Glass houses, man. Glass houses.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Jack put up his hands, eyes twinkling. “Hey, let me at least get a weapon before the fight starts. Gabe?”

“Yeah?”

His smile went right through her, warming her to her toes, and she felt the rest of the world grow dim. At that moment, he could have walked over, bent her back over his arm, and kissed her in front of God and everyone, and she wouldn’t have raised so much as a token protest.

“Thank you. This may be the best birthday present ever.”

She forced a nonchalant grin, reminding herself of the audience around her. “Better than the one you got yourself?”

“By far.”

“Good.”

“Awwww…you guys are so cute.”

Groaning, she shook off the sappy moment and tried to glare at Doug. “Ass.”

He winked. “And a nice one, too.”

“That’s it.” Phil shook his head. “This day has officially gone to hell.”

Doug struck a pose. “Oh, it’s only just begun.”

Gabe sighed. “What have I done?”

If he’d ever wondered how Gabe could possibly like mini golf when she was so terrible at it, his curiosity was laid to rest by the third hole. Her friends were hysterical. They provided detailed and colorful commentary on the scenery of each hole and then turned on each other. Doug made fun of Cheryl’s tiny skirt. Cheryl reamed Phil’s backswing. Phil quipped on how many ice ages would pass before Gabe even got to the green. Gabe, in turn, unleashed her wit on Doug’s only slightly better form and complete lack of either strategy or finesse.