Worth the Risk: A Contemporary Romance Bundle, page 14
The brief moment of intellect faded with Rick's reply. "Man, are you an idiot. Give up all the dough and the parties? And the action? They'll have to drag me away from this job."
Hal shrugged, wiping the bar with a damp cloth. "Not me."
"Ah, man." Rick downed the last of his beer, then wiped the foam from his lip with the back of his hand. "You let one of 'em get to you, huh?"
"What?" Hal stopped wiping, stunned at Rick's unexpected insight.
Rick shook his head, frowning. "Dude, you can't do that. You--you--" He gestured in the air as though wanting to form a thought, but not quite able to. "They're just women, Hal. You can't let them get inside you, man. Sure, they tell you you're the best lover they've ever had. They buy you expensive stuff. They take you to great places and tell you how great you are. But it's not real, man."
Rick sighed heavily, voice filled with a depth of emotion of which Hal would have thought him incapable. "Man, these babes will mess you up." He looked around circumspectly. "You know the worst ones? The ugly ones, dude. They're so glad to be seen with you, they tell you all this nice stuff, get you thinking you're something special, but when it comes down to it, man--they only want you for one thing. Your body."
Hal might have laughed if Rick wasn't being so obviously truthful. "Sorry to hear that...dude."
"Dude." Rick nodded. Hal poured him another beer and Rick drank that. The men sat in silence for a moment, contemplating women and their fickle natures.
"That what happened to you?"
There'd been no expensive gifts. Laila hadn't told him how great he was, or that he was the best lover. He'd let her inside him, though, hadn't he? Let her crawl right in there and, as Rick so aptly put it, mess him up?
"Yeah," Hal said. "Hell, yes. That's what happened to me."
"And that's where I learned to mambo." Laila's escort smiled suavely and ran his fingers through his dark, slick hair. "Care to try?"
"Uh, no." Laila smiled. "No, thanks, Derek."
Derek shrugged lightly. "It's your night."
Laila stifled a groan. It sure was. From the cocktails to the appetizers and then to dinner, not to mention the LoveMatch fee. It was all hers. Right out of her checkbook and into the LoveMatch coffers.
Derek was her third LoveMatch date in two weeks. He was a handsome man. Well, they all were. He was well-groomed and attentive. Even, Laila admitted, well-spoken. His manners were near perfection, and he listened to her as though he actually cared about what she had to say. If she wasn't paying an arm and a leg to have him sit across from her, Laila might have been flattered.
"Derek, do you like what you do?" she asked as the waiter brought their desserts.
He seemed taken aback by her question. "I certainly do."
"Why?"
He gave her the same answer Hal had, only his came with a smarmy grin that completely turned Laila off. "I like to spend my time in the company of attractive ladies like yourself."
"Have you been working for LoveMatch a long time?"
Now he seemed disconcerted. "Laila, is this really what you want to talk about?"
"Yes," she said firmly, heading for some specific information, but knowing she couldn't just come right out and ask. "Do you have a problem with it?"
Derek forked a bite of chocolate cream pie into his mouth and chewed slowly, then swallowed. "No. But usually my ladies like to talk about themselves."
"I'm really interested," Laila said.
"I've been an escort for three years," Derek said finally.
So he'd have known Hal. "Is there a lot of turnover in the company?"
If he found her questions strange, he was well-trained enough not to show it. "Sure. We get a lot of guys through who just need money for a while. Or they think it's going to be some great sex gig--" Derek paused and looked embarrassed. "Sorry. We're not supposed to talk about that."
"I won't tell," Laila promised. "Do you guys ever hang out when you're not working?"
Now Derek looked a little scared. "Why do you ask?"
"Just curious." Laila bit her own chocolate pie, which was like sawdust in her mouth. It would be so much easier if she could just come right out and ask him if he knew Hal, but she'd learned the hard way from date number one that the LoveMatch confidentiality agreement was incredibly revered. None of the escorts wanted to be tracked down by desperate, lovesick clients.
"We hang out at the gym sometimes." Derek pushed his pie away, as though he no longer could stomach it. "Yeah, sometimes we get together for drinks. Watch the game. Stuff like that."
Now she was getting somewhere. "Anybody you particularly like to hang out with?"
Derek's gaze grew wary. He lowered his voice to a whisper. "Who sent you?"
"What?" Laila had no idea what he could mean.
Derek's fingers clutched at his napkin. "Did Brandon send you?"
"Who?" All of a sudden Laila felt like she'd stepped into a big pile of something warm. And not chocolate pie.
"He did, didn't he?" Derek sat back, jaw clenched. "I told him it's just a job!"
"Whoa, wait a minute." Laila was getting the picture, and it was one she didn't particularly want in her mental photo album. "You and Brandon are--"
"He's my boyfriend," Derek said, as though she should know. "You mean he didn't send you to spy on me?"
Laila shook her head. Now Derek looked chastened and a little scared. His fingers folded the cloth napkin nervously.
"It's okay," Laila said. She had an idea that Derek's regular clientele might not be too thrilled to learn what she just had. "Brandon didn't send me. I'm just trying to get some information about one of your former co-workers."
Derek looked so relieved, Laila thought he might kiss her. "Why didn't you just ask?"
"Confidentiality," Laila whispered.
Derek leaned across the table and Laila caught the scent of his cologne. Something spicy and insolent. Sexy. He flashed her a look with his dark eyes and smiled a slow, sensuous grin that she knew was contrived. She felt it ripple through her anyway.
"I'll keep yours if you keep mine," he said.
"His name is Hal," Laila said. "And I want to find him."
"I'll have another one of these." The attractive blonde sitting at the bar tilted her head toward her drink. She plucked the sodden paper umbrella out of it and twirled it between her fingers. "Please."
"Coming right up." The night was young, but Hal was already exhausted. Last night had been dead in here, but tonight's crowd came seeking hot wings and cold drinks at Thursday night prices. Though he normally shared the bar with another 'tender, the other guy had called off. Hal had to work the crowd alone. That, on top of a heavy day of classes and little sleep for the past few weeks--he wasn't exactly feeling like Tom Cruise in the movie where he flung the bottles around.
"Hal, you got those wings ready yet?" Sandy, the waitress, stepped behind the bar to grab a couple of beers.
Hal glanced over his shoulder to check the counter next to the kitchen doors. "Not out yet, Sandy. Sorry."
"Shoot." Sandy blew a strand of dark brown hair out of her eyes. "They're gonna start screaming for blood instead of blue cheese."
"Another drink?" the blonde asked impatiently, wiggling her paper umbrella at Hal.
He nodded, pushed past Sandy and headed for the blender. "Right away."
"Hey, buddy, can I get another couple of shots over here?"
"Waiting on daiquiri!"
"How about a rum and Coke?"
Where are they all coming from? Hal felt like he was being attacked by a bunch of zombies, only ones that weren't hungry for flesh. This crowd of creeping undead wanted booze.
He poured drinks, passed platters of wings and generally tried to keep from being bowled over by the crowd. Hal wouldn't have said he was enjoying himself, but there was a sense of relief in the brain-numbing repetition of the tasks before him. It gave his mind a rest from the constant cycle of thoughts about Laila.
Everything was going along like a well-orchestrated waltz. It wasn't until Sandy came back behind the bar again that Hal remembered he was a terrible dancer.
The beer went flying, aided by the hot wings. Hal crunched broken glass and blue cheese under foot while Sandy yelped. The bar groaned collectively.
"I'll get the mop," Sandy said. She patted him on the arm. "Don't worry about it, Hal."
Wearily, Hal began sweeping up glass and gunk. The restless, booze-craving zombies shuffled impatiently at the bar, muttering amongst themselves. What perfect metaphor for my life, Hal thought with more than a little bitterness. Shattered heart and gunked-up emotions. If he could sweep away the five days he'd spent with Laila as easily as he swept away the broken glass, he'd be set.
"Hal, buddy!"
The familiar voice automatically set Hal's jaw even as he turned. Rick had muscled his way up to the bar, seeming not to notice the nasty glares he got from the other customers. He rapped the bar top with his knuckles.
"Dude, grab me a beer, will ya?"
Hal held up the broom. "I'm a little busy here, Rick."
It took Rick a moment to look around and see he wasn't the only person in the room. A long, painful moment. "Oh, sure, man. Yeah. Whatever. I'll wait for it."
Shaking his head, Hal finished clearing the floor of the worst of the mess, then set about filling all the drink orders. Surprisingly, once he'd found his rhythm again, clearing away the backlogged crowd didn't take very long. Or maybe they were afraid I'll drop a plateful of wings on them, Hal thought.
Once the free Happy Hour snack buffet opened up, the undead moved away from the bar to scarf down cheese sticks, onion rings, and a plethora of other fried bar fare. Hal actually found himself with a moment to breathe. Sandy took the opportunity for a smoke break. Rick sat at the bar and drank his beer.
"I'm on another date." Rick spoke up when it became clear Hal had a free minute.
Hal, who'd been hoping for the chance to grab a sandwich from the kitchen, managed a smile. "You're on a roll. Uh, dude."
"Dude!" It seemed Rick could make just that one word mean any number of things, just by using a different tone of voice. This time it clearly meant he was happy. "And man, this babe is sweet!"
"Yeah?" Hal asked, not really caring. His stomach grumbled, especially when he looked out and saw the zombies chowing down like the world was about to end. When Sandy got back, he'd get something to eat.
Rick made a waving motion with his hand and jerked his head back and forth. "Oh, yeah. Dude, she is a hottie! And I think she really digs me."
"Good for you," Hal said, keeping his eye out for Sandy's return. "Dude."
"Dude!" Rick replied with a sly grin. "She made an emergency request for me, man. Whitehead cancelled my other gig 'cause this babe was so hot for me."
"Cool," Hal said. Finally, he spotted Sandy weaving her way through the crowd back to the bar.
"I'm getting laid for sure tonight," Rick said. "And I won't even have to fake it with this babe. Let me tell you, man, she is hot!"
"You said that," Hal told him. Rick's rambling was becoming more than just background noise. It was starting to get on his nerves. "Hey, Sandy!"
"I thought she might want to go to Wanda's Beach Club or someplace." Rick shrugged. "But she insisted we come here. Whatever. Dude, one place to get beer's as good as any, am I right?"
"Especially when you're not paying for it," Hal said absently. Sandy had gotten hung up in a gaggle of mini-skirted singletons who appeared to be asking her if their hair looked all right.
"Dude, you are so right." Rick drained the last of his beer and Hal handed him another.
"So where is this mystery woman?" Hal asked, not that he cared. It looked like Sandy was going to be a few more minutes.
"She had to hit the ladies'. Freshen herself up for me, you know." Rick let out a lusty chuckle that made Hal grimace. "Dude!"
"Dude," Hal agreed. His stomach protested its chronic emptiness again, and he decided he couldn't wait any longer. "I'll be right back, all right? If anyone comes up, just tell them to wait a second."
"Sure, man." Rick happily went back to sucking down his draft.
Hal put in a quick order for a roast beef sandwich and fries, then ducked back to the bar. The crowd still hovered around the buffet, though the contents of most of the warming trays had been demolished. Rick's date had finally made it back from the bathroom.
They'd moved to the far end of the bar. Rick had his arm around the lady fair who was perusing the crowd. From the back, she looked slim with sleek dark hair that reminded him disconcertingly of Laila's. When she turned around, Hal saw why. The woman with Rick was Laila.
No. It couldn't be. Laila with Rick, of all people? Why had she hired another LoveMatch escort? The sight of her with another man, another paid man, punched him in the gut.
Hal took a step back, forgetting he had no place to go. Sandy finally managed to work her way through back to him, and now she chirped perkily, "If you need a break or something--"
"I'll take it," Hal said.
He stepped out from behind the bar, heading for the door, just as Laila turned and saw him.
"Hal!" she cried, but he ignored her.
He pushed through the crowd, slammed through the doors, and was gone.
"Babe, you know Kessler?" Rick asked her, holding her by the arm as Laila tried to go after Hal.
"Yes," Laila said impatiently, shaking him off. "That's why I wanted to come here. Because you knew him."
"Huh?"
She didn't have time to explain to Rick, who was easy on the eyes but incredibly difficult on the intellect. "Listen, Rick, I've got to go."
"But--wait!" Rick called after her. Laila didn't turn, even when she heard him cry forlornly, "Dude?"
The crowd seemed determined to keep her from getting out. She dodged one couple grappling in the first stages of drunken courtship, then had to squeeze between a group of women huddled together around a high table. Determined she would catch up to Hal if it meant driving her heel into some poor slob's instep, Laila pushed her way through the throng.
"Hal!" she cried to the night, but he was gone.
She searched the street from side to side, and didn't see him. Her heart hit the pavement, followed by her stomach, but then she looked again. She saw just a flash of his yellow shirt as he turned the corner into an alley only two blocks ahead.
She didn't bother calling out again, needing to save her breath for the jog ahead. Grateful she'd gone with the sensible low-heeled boots instead of the sexy slingback pumps she'd first picked out, Laila took off at a run. Freezing air made the inside of her nose and lungs burn as she ran, but that didn't stop her.
She splashed through a puddle of icy water, squeaking when it hit her stocking covered calves. And still she ran on. One block more. She had to turn the corner before he turned again. Before she lost him again.
Just ahead, the street lamp flickered obnoxiously, casting the alley Hal had gone down into deep shadow. Now Laila hesitated. Did she really want to run down a dark alley at night, wearing an outfit chosen especially to entice a man?
She looked down the street in both directions, but other than an occasional flash of headlights from the next corner, it was deserted. Light and music spilled out of Zane's just two blocks down, but here the storefronts were dark and locked up for the night.
I lost him once, Laila thought. She wouldn't do it again. Heart pounding, she dove into the alley and prepared to run after the man who'd gotten away with her heart.
Before her eyes could adjust to the even darker alley, Laila ran head first into a brick wall. At least, it felt like a brick wall, albeit one wearing a yellow shirt. Both of them went down hard, rolling into a pile of cardboard and garbage overflowing from a dumpster.
Her knees stung and her stockings were shredded ruins. Hal's elbow had caught her painfully just beneath the ribs, and her breath came in labored, whistling gasps. She had never been so happy in her life.
"Hal!"
Hal wheezed. Laila felt him move beneath her, his hands pushing feebly at her knee. It had lodged between his legs. High up between his legs.
The garbage, piled precariously as it was, shifted and slid. Hal and Laila rolled to the cold, wet pavement. She didn't want to think about what was squelching beneath him.
"I know what you must be thinking," she began. "About why I was with Rick."
"It's not a story I need to hear right now," Hal replied, his voice still harsh with pain. "Not in a pile of garbage."
"When you ran out, I thought I'd blown it again," Laila admitted.
Hal shook his head. "Laila, I was coming back to talk to you. I decided I'd run out on you once, and I wasn't going to do it again."
She didn't want to move, but the pavement was cold and the garbage none too fragrant. "Hal--"
But he interrupted her. "This is how we first met. Maybe...maybe we can start again. I'm Hal Kessler."
"I'm Laila Alster," Laila said. "And I'm pleased to meet you."
They needed no more introduction than that because then he pulled her mouth to his for a kiss made even sweeter for how long she'd thought about having it.
Life with Hal would mean a lot of falling, Laila thought as together they hobbled to the streetlamp's glow.
Falling in love.
Bachelor Number Four
Chapter 1
“I swear, I love my husband, but sometimes I just want to kill him.”
Utter silence filled the room that only moments before had been filled with the sounds of laughter and crunching popcorn. Barb, the woman who’d spoken, flushed. Arden Walsh froze with a chocolate sandwich cookie halfway to her mouth as every face in the room turned toward her. Did they want her to say something? Do something? She forced herself to eat the cookie as Lida, bless her, reached for the remote and rewound the scene, then used the remote to zoom in on the luscious backside displayed on the TV.
“Ewan McGregor has the finest ass in the universe, I swear. He wouldn’t even have to knock on my door. He wouldn’t even have to knock on the door. I’d catch him while he was still standing in the driveway.”
