Damaged Goods (12 page)

so…human.

He went on. “My biggest fear is someone accusing me of…” He trailed off,

letting the shudder finish the thought. “God, I"d never hurt a kid—I"d never hurt

anyone—but people have their beliefs, and they want to protect their kids.” He

sighed. “So I just make sure I"m never alone with my nieces and nephews or anyone

else"s kids. Not even for a few minutes.”

“That"s so sad that you have to do that.”

He nodded, looking at the pavement instead of me. “Not much choice, I"m

afraid. It"s stupid, really. I get paid to have sex with adult women. How that

translates into wanting to mess with kids is beyond me.” He shuddered again. “But

several of the guys I work with have told me very emphatically that accusations like

that can and do happen.”

I exhaled. “Wow. I mean, I understand being protective of your kids, but…”

Sabian nodded. “Yeah, exactly.”

“Do you want kids of your own?”

“Eventually.” Then, with a hefty and unexpected helping of bitterness, he

added through gritted teeth, “Assuming I can ever find a woman who"s willing to

have them with someone like me.”

I blinked. “Oh?”

He grimaced and made an apologetic gesture. “I"m sorry, that was

unprofessional. I—”

“It"s okay.” I smiled and put a hand over his on the railing. “This isn"t an

employee evaluation.” He met my eyes, and we shared a quiet laugh. Then I said, “I

never really thought about how a job like this would affect the rest of your life.”

54

Lauren Gallagher

“It does, believe me.”

“So how does it affect relationships?” I asked. “I mean, do you date much since

you started working for the agency?”

“A little. Relationships don"t last long in this business.”

“I sometimes wonder if they last long at all,” I muttered. “I haven"t had one

last longer than six months since my divorce.”

“Neither have I.”

“You"re divorced?”

He nodded.

“Sorry to hear it.”

“Such is life,” he said.

Neither of us spoke for a moment.

“So what happened?” I asked at last.
How personal will you let me get?

He was quiet for a few long heartbeats. Then, “We were too immature, and we

didn"t know how to be married. We both screwed up enough times there was no

point in trying to keep it alive.”

“Screwed up? In what way?”

“Lying to each other, which was usually lying by omission. Not cheating or

anything, just not talking to each other about things that were bothering us.” He

took a long, deep breath, and his eyes focused on something in the distance. “Then

we stopped talking at all and finally called it quits.” He looked at me. “What about

you?”

“Hmm?”

“Your marriage? What happened?” He paused. “If it"s not too personal.”

“Not at all,” I said. “You showed me yours. I can show you mine.” We both

laughed halfheartedly again. As my laughter faded, I said, “We just neglected ours.

We were both juggling graduate school while our son was really young. Spent a lot

of time and energy stressing about money, the baby, that sort of thing. Then we

both graduated, got good jobs, didn"t have to worry about money as much anymore,

and our son was old enough he didn"t require the same constant attention.” I looked

out at the water with unfocused eyes. “About the time we realized we"d left our

relationship in the dust, my daughter came along rather unexpectedly, and we just

weren"t in a place where our relationship could handle adding another baby to the

mix.” I exhaled. It still killed me to think about how Michael and I had buckled, and

sometimes I still wondered if we might have made it had we been more patient,

more mature. I swallowed. “So we split.”

“How long have you been divorced?” he asked.

“Seven years. You?”

“Five.” He exhaled sharply. “Man, sometimes it"s hard to believe it"s been that

long.”

Damaged Goods

55

“Tell me about it. Think you"ll ever get married again?”

“Maybe. Just like with having kids. Depends on if I ever meet a woman who"s

willing to look past what I am.” He looked at me. “What about you?”

“Same. Haven"t had much luck yet, so color me a bit pessimistic.”

“I suppose that can be complicated,” he said. “From a guy"s perspective, going

from a bachelor to a stepfather is…intimidating.”

“I know.” I sighed. “The thing is, I"m not looking for a father for my kids. They

have a father, and I"m not out to replace him. Of course whoever I"d marry would

still be a father figure to them to a degree, but half the guys I date seem to think

I"m looking for someone to completely fill Michael"s role.”

“Your kids have a good relationship with their dad, then?”

“Oh, yes,” I said. “Michael"s a wonderful father. We just sucked at being

married to each other.”

“I know that feeling,” Sabian said softly. “My ex would have been an awesome

mom. We just screwed up our marriage before we got that far.” He laughed quietly,

and I couldn"t tell if he sounded sad or bitter. “Guess it"s a good thing we did. I can"t

imagine having kids in the middle of it.”

“Nasty divorce?”

He nodded. “Very. God, that was hell. I couldn"t believe we"d let ourselves get

to that point.”

“Yeah, I understand that.”

“I didn"t go into my marriage lightly,” he said, “and I felt like a failure when

we didn"t last.”

“I know the feeling.”

We both fell silent again.

“Out of curiosity…” I chewed my lip, still wondering how personal was too

personal. Finally, figuring he could opt not to answer, I said, “When you do date, do

you tell women up front? About your job?”

“I don"t necessarily tell her within five minutes of meeting her,” he said. “But I

definitely tell her before I sleep with her.” He said nothing for a moment. “I could

never lie to a woman about this. If she trusts me enough for a long-term

relationship, then she deserves the truth. And even if it"s just a short-term thing, I

owe it to any woman I sleep with.” He paused. “I mean, I"m clean. Every one of us

gets tested constantly for everything under the sun, and we always take

precautions. But still, she has a right to know.”

“Have you ever thought about giving it up?”

“I"ve thought about it,” he said, almost whispering. “But regardless of what

people think about what I do, I still have to eat. Some of the guys moonlight. They

have other jobs, so they can take this job or leave it. I don"t make nearly enough

money with my other job to pay the bills.”

“I suppose that would make things tricky with a relationship, then.”

56

Lauren Gallagher

“Yeah. And really, it wouldn"t make much of a difference if I quit.”

“How do you mean?”

“Think of it this way,” he said. “You"ll always be a mother. Even when your

kids are grown and gone with families of their own, you"ll always be a mother.” He

met my eyes. “And to most people, I will always have been a prostitute. Even if I

quit tonight and never took another cent for sex again, it"ll always be there in my

past.” He shifted his gaze away, and when he spoke again, some of the earlier

bitterness seeped back into his tone. “I will always be, in a lot of people"s eyes, a

whore.”

“Wow, I hadn"t thought about that,” I said.

He gave a sniff of quiet laughter, and this time it was undeniably bitter.

“Guess we both know what it"s like to be damaged goods, don"t we?”

“Yeah, I guess we do.”

Sabian let out a breath. Then he shook his head. “I"m sorry, Jocelyn. This isn"t

what you paid for.”

“I paid for an evening of company and conversation, didn"t I?”

He pursed his lips. “Yeah, but probably not a depressing conversation about

exes and that kind of thing. This is supposed to be about you. Talking about the

things you"re interested in.”

“And right now, I"m rather interested in the fact that we have more in common

than I thought.”

Again, our eyes met.

Almost whispering, he said, “Yeah, I guess we do have a few things in

common.”

I forced a halfhearted laugh. “The escort and the single mom. Who"d have

guessed?”

He shrugged, a hint of a smile tugging at his lips. “There aren"t too many

people who"d admit to having much in common with someone like me.”

“Something tells me that"s only because they don"t know anything about you.”

Sabian swallowed hard. Without a word, he reached for me, but not with the

confidence of a paid prostitute who knew what he was doing. His hand approached

my face slowly, tentatively, and when his fingertips brushed my cheek, we both took

sharp, startled breaths. His other hand slid around my waist, and I put my arms

around him. Out here in the cool evening air, the warmth of his body against mine

was more pronounced than it had been when we"d danced earlier.

“I have to tell you,” he said. “Whoever said you were damaged goods, they

didn"t have a clue what they were talking about.”

I traced his goatee with the backs of my fingers. “Likewise.”

For a long moment, we just looked at each other in the stark light. Then he

leaned in closer. Our foreheads touched. His fingers trembled against my cheek. I

Damaged Goods

57

lifted my chin, and he tilted his head. His lip brushed mine, but he pulled back just

enough to keep us from sinking into the kiss we both so desperately wanted.

“There"s something I want you to know,” he said.

“Hmm?” My lips tingled from the vibration of his voice.

His hand moved into my hair, the other drawing my body closer to his, and

just before our lips touched, he whispered, “My real name is Austin.”

My heart pounded, thundering his name over and over in my ears as he held

me to him and kissed me. Electricity crackled through my veins and up and down

my spine, and while it was far from the first time we"d touched, this kiss was

charged with the thrill of a first kiss. The kind of kiss that was meant to follow

hours, days, weeks of coy dancing and teasing.

The kind of kiss that meant we weren"t pretending anymore.

Austin. Austin. “My real name is Austin.”

Footsteps clicked on nearby pavement, but we didn"t let go of each other. I

wasn"t worried about anyone with a badge. We weren"t doing a damned thing

wrong. We were lovers to anyone who happened by. Two people too caught up in the

moment to take it elsewhere. Somewhere deep down, I wondered if I"d even fooled

myself into believing that.

Was I fooling myself?

We broke the kiss. As he looked at me now, his eyes edged more toward gold

than green this time, and he looked shy. Uncertain. Surprised. Either he was a

damned good actor, or this was no longer a business transaction. And whether it

was real or fake, business or pleasure, I wanted him.

“Do you…” I hesitated.

He ran his fingers through my hair. “Do I what?”

“I"m not sure where the lines are now,” I whispered. “If I said I wanted to go

somewhere else, I…” I gulped. “I don"t know who…”

“Who do you want?” he asked.“Sabian or Austin?”

My heart pounded, and my lips tingled with the echoes of his gentle kiss. “I

want…” I hesitated again, not sure if I dared cross this blurry line. “Austin.”

His fingers drew an unsteady path along my cheek and the side of my neck.

“You"ve paid to have Sabian tonight.” His voice shook as badly as his fingers.

“And I think I got my money"s worth.” I pulled back enough to look him in the

eye. “He introduced me to Austin.”

“So he did.” His hand curved around the back of my neck and drew me closer

to him.

“Would you be opposed to going back to my place?” I asked.

Austin moistened his lips. “What about your kids?”

“They"re with their father this weekend. We"ll be completely alone.”

58

Lauren Gallagher

“Then let"s go.” Even as he said it, he didn"t let me go. Not yet. “But first…” He

held me tighter and kissed me gently, his lips barely touching mine, but lingering a

second longer than I expected. As he started to draw back, he paused. Instead of

making another comment, he tilted his head and came back for another kiss. Again

our lips met softly, his pausing for a long moment before moving slowly against

mine.

“I love the way you kiss,” he murmured.

I gently grasped the front of his shirt. “Then kiss me again.”

Damaged Goods

59

Chapter Eight

For a man who made his living having sex and a woman who was no stranger

to casual sex or the prostitute in question, Sabian—
Austin
—and I couldn"t have

been more nervous or awkward when we stepped into my bedroom.

We hadn"t said much on the way from the waterfront to my driveway, and now