“What?” Hang on—that wasn’t the reaction I was expecting. I mentally play back my words, but before I can clarify—and byclarify, I mean backtrack the fuck away from this at a million miles an hour—her eyes widen and her expression morphs with understanding.
“You mean you’re, like, a professional?”
Ormisunderstanding, I should say.
“Well, I guess, but—”
“So that’s what you meant when you said you’d tasted a lot of ass.”
“Yes. Wait, no. I didn’t say that.”
“I’m not judging. Paid or not, you clearlygeta lot of ass.” Her eyes roam over me sort of speculatively.
“Thank you, I think.” I feel my expression flicker. This is the most bizarre conversation ever. “But that’s not—”
“Oh, my God.” She grabs for my hands and holds them between us. “This is amazing!”
“Is it?”
“Divine intervention for sure! Thank you—thank you so much,” she adds, her gaze tipping to the ceiling. “I mean, I’ll obviously pay you. For your time. And only for your time. I mean, it’s been a minute ...”
A minute since she ... had a ride?
Confirmation comes as her eyes drop to my crotch.
What in the name of all that is holy! She actually thinks I’m a male escort? I don’t know if I should be flattered or horrified.
What Would Fin Do?I hear that bastard’s voice in my ear like he’s standing behind me, whispering over my shoulder—I hear it so clearly, in fact, that I glance at my wrist, half expecting to see a beaded bracelet there. I know exactly what Fin would do, the feckin’ opportunist, because his emotional depths run as deep as a yogurt pot. Premarriage, anyway.
“Listen,” I say, starting again. “I think we’ve got our wires crossed. When I said I’m the kind of man to get you out of this, I didn’t mean physically.” Not that I’m not tempted. Physically. What man wouldn’t be? Feisty, fiery, and as hot as fuck, she’s a regular pocket rocket, this one.
“‘Always hire the right man for the job.’ You said that was your motto. And the right man is you.”
“That’s not exactly what I said.” Though it kind of is. “Look, I’m not ...” Fuck, I can’t even say it, the idea is so ridiculous. “What I meant was—what Iknow isyou won’t miss out on anything by not going to the wedding.” My response sounds harsher than I mean it to, and because my knees are starting to ache, I take the seat next to hers.
“It’s not like I want to go,” she murmurs, dabbing her eyes with her fingertips.
“Then you don’t have a problem. Don’t go.” I rest my arm on the table next to my pint.
“You don’t understand. I’ve got to be there.”
“Maybe you think you do, but take my advice—it’s better you stay well away.” I reach for my glass, maybe to prevent myself from spilling my own tale and tangling this knot tighter. Or maybe this is just really thirsty work.
“I don’t have a choice.” Her eyes meet mine, deep blue and solemn.
“Everyone has a choice. The truth is, he won’t even miss you.”
Her head snaps back like I’ve just slapped her across the chops with a wet kipper.
“What I mean is, he’s moved on. You should too.”
“I don’t give a fuck about him,” she says, her frown deepening. “Besides, it’s not like he doesn’t have to look me in the eye every day. In the office.”
“Well, sure, working together is a complication.”
“The complication is he’s my boss. At least he is since he dumped me for the CEO’s daughter.”
“Oh.”
