Damaged Goods (11 page)

“True. So, what would you be doing if you weren"t an escort?”

“Same thing I do now. I"m an artist. That just doesn"t pay the bills quite as

well.” He exhaled. “I can spend a month working on a painting and sell it for a few

hundred bucks if I"m lucky. Or I can spend a few hours with a lonely woman and

make five hundred.” He paused. “My design work pays more than the paintings and

stuff, but it"s sporadic and not quite enough to keep my head above the water.”

“Starving artist?”

“Pretty much. And really, what I do isn"t a bad living at all. I"m not ashamed of

it, I make good money, and my clients know exactly what they"re getting.”

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“I never thought about this line of work as being an honest living,” I said. “But

I"m starting to wonder.”

He laughed softly. “Well, it"s not honest in the sense that it"s not entirely legal,

but I pay my taxes like everyone else.”

“What"s it like when you actually, you know, get involved with someone? Does

this change how sex is for you?” I paused, cringing. “I"m sorry, that was too

personal. You don"t have to answer that.”

“It"s okay,” he said. “Quite honestly, most people are too wrapped up in being

appalled by what I do to even consider I might ever have a real relationship, never

mind how my job might affect it.” He smiled, and I swore he looked a little shy. “So I

don"t mind.”

“Oh. Okay.” I swallowed. “So, do you have relationships?”

“I"ve had a few,” he said quietly. “And to answer your question, my job doesn"t

change what it"s like at home. There"s a difference between having sex and making

love.”

“I wouldn"t know,” I muttered into my wineglass.

He furrowed his brow. “Oh?”

“If I was making love with anyone, I wouldn"t be paying for sex.” My cheeks

burned, and I glanced around the room, certain I"d just said that much too loud.

Then I looked at him. “No offense, of course.”

He chuckled. “None taken.”

I started to say something else, but my phone vibrated, startling me. “Crap,

I"m sorry. Give me a second.” I took it out of my purse. Thankfully, it was Janie,

probably checking to see if I wanted to go out boozing with the girls tonight. I

switched the call over to voice mail and shoved the phone back into my purse.

“Sorry about that. I hate having to leave that thing on. In case my…” I

hesitated, cursing the flush of heat in my cheeks. Lowering my voice, I went on, “In

case my kids call.”

“Don"t be sorry.” He smiled. “If your kids need to reach you, they need to reach

you.”

“I just hate having my phone go off when I"m out with someone, and especially

on a—” I paused, laughing softly when my face burned even hotter. “I guess I forgot

this wasn"t a „normal" date.”

“What difference would that make?”

“Well, most guys hear about the kids and suddenly remember I"m damaged

goods.”

Sabian tilted his head a little. “Is it really that difficult for a single mom to

meet someone?” He paused. “I don"t mean that sarcastically. I mean, I really don"t

know what it"s like for a single mother on the dating scene.”

“Oh, meeting people is easy.” I sighed. “It"s getting anywhere beyond that

that"s difficult.”

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49

“How so?”

“If I just want a one-night stand, and sometimes I do, it"s just as much

headache as it is for everyone else.” I sipped my wine but didn"t set the glass down.

“If I want something more? Then it gets complicated.”

“I guess that makes sense,” he said. “You"d think there were more guys out

there who are fine with kids.”

“Oh, yeah, a lot of guys say they"re fine with kids. When my kids were little, all

I met were men who interacted better with older kids. Once my kids were older, it

was all guys who wanted to be a part of their lives from the beginning. I can"t

fucking win.” I sighed. “I mean, I understand if a guy doesn"t want to be an instant

father. Being a stepparent isn"t easy. My ex-husband"s wife has had a pretty tough

time with it herself. But damn if it doesn"t make dating a royal pain, especially

when a guy is convinced having kids has probably ruined my body, so—” I stopped,

shaking my head. “I"m sorry, I"m rambling.”

“You"re fine,” he said. “I assume all of that is why you decided to use an

escort?”

My cheeks burned, and I nodded. “Pathetic, I know.”

“No, I don"t think so.” He folded his arms on the table in front of him. “I told

you, I meet a lot of lonely women in this business. The ones who work too hard,

single moms, you name it. I don"t think it"s pathetic. I just think it"s sad that women

are driven to this.”

“But you don"t mind cashing in on it?” It came out with more bitterness than

I"d intended, and I cringed when his face colored and he dropped his gaze.

“Fuck, I"m sorry,” I said. “That was totally out of line. I"m—”

“It"s okay.” He met my eyes and smiled, though it was halfhearted. “In a way,

yes, I"m cashing in on it. But I"m not out to exploit women who are driven to this.

They need sex and company. I need money. You scratch my back, I"ll scratch yours.”

“I know, and I didn"t mean that.” I managed a laugh. “I guess I get a little

bitter sometimes, and it can get the best of me.”

“Understandable.” He sipped his wine. “How old are your kids?”

I smiled. “Alexis is almost eight, and Mikey just turned twelve.”

“Wait.” Sabian blinked. “
You
have a seven- and twelve-year-old?”

I nodded.

“Wow.” He smiled. “I wouldn"t have guessed, honestly.”

Rolling my eyes self-consciously, I said, “Is flattery part of tonight"s package?”

It was his turn to blush. “No, I meant it. Honestly, I"d have said you were in

your midtwenties.”

“Not quite.” I laughed. “I"m thirty-four.”

His smile was both sexy and sweet as he said, “I never would have guessed.”

He laid his hand on the table, and I put mine over his.

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Lauren Gallagher

“What about you?” I asked as his fingers moved back and forth along my wrist.

“Twenty-nine.”

“And how many of those years have you spent in this line of work?”

“Three.” He teased goose bumps to life on my forearm with his fingertips.

“Still not tired of it?”

He chuckled. “Oh, like I said, it has its moments, believe me.”

The waitress came up to the table. “Are you ready to order?”

I looked at the menu, which still lay closed beside the wine bottle. I hadn"t

even thought about what I wanted to eat, and now that I did, nothing appealed to

me. To Sabian, I said, “You know, I"m not really all that hungry after all. Do you

have any objections to getting out of here?”

“Not if that"s what you want to do.” He raised his eyebrows. “You"re calling the

shots.”

“So if I said I just wanted to go walk off this wine for a while, you"d be game for

that?”

He drained his own glass and set it down. “Absolutely.”

Damaged Goods

51

Chapter Seven

On the way out of the restaurant, Sabian offered me his elbow. I took it, and

we must have painted a convincing picture of a couple just strolling down the

sidewalk.

All the way to the waterfront a few blocks away, we didn"t say much. I had

hoped getting out of the restaurant would give me a chance to breathe, to take in

some of the fresh cool air coming in off the bay, but all it did was unsettle me.

Walking together, a phantom handprint on my waist from the dance we"d shared—

this wasn"t what he"d agreed to do. The safe confines of plans and a restaurant had

switched to improvisation and outdoors.

This wasn"t part of the deal tonight. Dinner, hotel room, good-bye. That was

the deal.

I muffled a cough. “So, is this a normal part of your job?”

“There really isn"t anything that"s
not
normal, to be honest.” He glanced at me

and smiled. “I just go with it.”

“Expect the unexpected?”

“Every night.”

We walked in silence for a few minutes, following the boardwalk that

overlooked the bay. Water lapped at the rocks below us, and the wind ruffled leaves

on nearby trees. It was a cool night, so there weren"t many people out and about

beneath the harsh streetlights dotting the winding shoreline. We were completely

out in the open, yet alone enough to grant more privacy than at our intimate table

at the restaurant.

Still, I kept my voice low when I finally broke the silence. “Can I ask you

another personal question?”

“Sure.”

I hesitated, then looked at him. “What
don’t
you like about being an escort?”

He was quiet for a long moment. I wondered if perhaps I"d dipped into the

realms of too personal. Before I could retract the question, though, Sabian said,

“The secrecy loses its novelty. Having to make up stories for why I have to bail on

get-togethers, not being able to just be honest about what I do.”

“I can imagine that gets old.”

“Yeah, it does.” As one, we stopped. I lifted my hand off his elbow, and he

leaned against the metal railing. Without looking at me, he took a deep breath and

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Lauren Gallagher

went on. “And some people wouldn"t believe it, but the sex has a certain amount of

stress attached, and that can get old.”

“Stress? What do you mean?”

He looked out at the water. “It"s funny, a lot of people look at a job like this and

think, „how difficult could it possibly be?" But think of it this way.” He turned to me.

“You know how when you"re with someone new, and you have to figure out all the

things a new lover likes and doesn"t like?”

I nodded. “Sure. That"s half the fun of a new lover.”

“It is, but I have to do that every single night. I know, I know, rough life. But

it"s…” He trailed off.

“Sort of like putting on the game face for a first date over and over and over,” I

said. “I guess I can see how that would get exhausting.”

“Yes, exactly. Still beats the hell out of slinging coffee, though,” he said with a

soft laugh. “And at least I usually don"t have to be at work at four in the morning

now.”

I grimaced. “That"s a definite plus. I don"t do early mornings.”

“Neither do I. As far as I"m concerned, there shouldn"t be two four o"clocks in a

day, you know?”

“I am so with you on that.” I wrinkled my nose. “Was one of my least favorite

parts of having small children.”

“Oh, yeah, I didn"t even think of that.” He looked at me with a playful scowl.

“Inconsiderate beasts, waking you up at all hours of the night.”

I laughed. “You don"t know the half of it.”

Our eyes met, and we both fell quiet again. The background noise of leaves and

waves crescendoed to reach the foreground, filling the silence between us to remind

me with each rustle and ripple that our conversation had fallen away. What did it

matter, though? We were here for some superficial interaction and some scorching

hot sex. Wasn"t like we needed to keep up appearances and pretend this was a real

date.

Are we pretending?

Before that thought had a chance to make my heart skip, Sabian looked at me.

“It"s funny, most people aren"t interested in this stuff at all. I have sex for a living,

and that"s all anyone wants to see.”

“I"m just curious about it. I hope I"m not prying.”

“No, not at all.” He looked at the pavement at our feet and swallowed. “To be

honest, it"s kind of nice to talk to someone who isn"t busy passing judgment on me.”

“I won"t lie,” I said, almost whispering. “I had my preconceived notions. But

I"m starting to see that maybe they weren"t all that accurate.”

His eyes flicked up to meet mine, and the faintest hint of a smile brightened

his expression. “Most people aren"t willing to let those notions go.”

Damaged Goods

53

“Most people haven"t spent an hour or two picking a prostitute"s brain, I

guess.”

The smile became a subtle laugh. “I suppose not. But then, I haven"t met too

many people who"d care to.”

“Their loss.”

Once again, silence settled in, and the wind and waves moved in to occupy it.

And once again, it was Sabian who spoke first.

He took a deep breath. “You want to know what I really hate about my job?”

My heart beat faster, though I couldn"t say exactly why, and I licked my dry

lips before I said, “Sure, yeah.”

He looked out at the water again. “In some people"s eyes, I may as well be a

registered sex offender of the most dangerous kind. If friends and family found out

what I am, they"d probably move heaven and earth to keep me away from their

kids.”

Guilt gnawed at me. Before tonight, my first reaction would have been to get

and stay between him and my kids. But before tonight, as much as it made me feel

like a horrible person to admit it to myself, I"d never thought of a prostitute as being