Thigh High (29 page)

He scrubbed a hand over his face, aware that line of thinking was a lie.

He didn't want to give a damn what his neighbors thought of him and whether they discovered he worked part time as a gigolo, but he didn't have any choice in the matter. Thanks to the economy being blown to shit and taking his job with the local automotive plant along with it, staying in the area meant making money by whatever means possible.

Loose Screws, the construction company he ran with two of his former plant coworkers, was taking off slowly. And business would continue to be slow until the economy bounced back. The cold, hard truth: most people didn't have the money to spend on building or remodeling.

Women did have money for sex. Or whatever else might tickle their fancy, or any other part of their mind and body.

Last week Benny pulled in a grand just for spending the afternoon alone with an eighty-year-old widow. Alone and naked, but still that was a helluva lot of dough for a few hours of small talk while being ogled by an old lady.

Speaking of his business partner, Thad should give Benny a call and see if he and Nash needed help at the current construction site. The job was a relatively small one. It was also nearly finished and the sooner it got done, the sooner they would get paid. Nash could avoid needing the cash, by sucking up his loathing for the wealthy and asking his affluent father for a handout the man was eager to give. Benny was doing whatever it took to keep his Alzheimer's-stricken foster mother in an upscale nursing home. Thad just liked to be able to afford to eat and make rent.

After going into the half bath adjoining his second-floor bedroom and getting washed up, Thad pulled on a pair of boxers and jeans, then headed downstairs to the kitchen. He lifted the cordless phone from the counter, planning to punch in Benny's cell number while he discovered what, if any, food waited in the refrigerator.

The phone rang before he could punch the first number. Pulling open the fridge door, he hit the phone's talk button. “Loose Screws. This is Thad.”

“I need you,” a low, husky feminine voice implored through the phone line.

One of the reasons he was able to charge as much as he did for his gigolo services was the shitload of testosterone the good Lord saw fit to gift him with. The carnal invitation that seemed to fill the woman's words had his blood pumping hot. His cock joined in, already hungry for more loving. Remembering this was the construction phone line didn't do a thing to calm his body. The woman-pleasuring division of Loose Screws originated because of someone calling the company, guessing it to be a hustler service by its name and hoping one of their employees might be interested in working as a stripper for a bachelorette party.

“Then you called the right place.” Letting the refrigerator door shut, Thad focused on determining if she was after business or pleasure. “How might I be of service?”

“The way the ceiling's leaking, I think my roof's about ready to fall through. I need to get it fixed before the next rainstorm.”

Serious words spoken in a sultry tone. Didn't tell him a damned thing. “Is this need business related?”

“It's personal.”

If the sigh following her words was authentic, and not just a chirp in the phone line, it would suggest she was after pleasure. Loose Screws couldn't afford for him to be wrong. “So long as your place isn't too big, I might be able to squeeze you in. Lemme check the calendar.”

Thad glanced at the hot rods and hotter babes calendar hanging on the refrigerator door. His next pleasure appointment wasn't until the following Thursday, with a woman old enough to be his mother. Tammy might be as old as his mother, but with her all-over tan, shoulder-length bleached blond hair and silicone-enhanced double Ds, she didn't look a thing like his mother. Unlike Benny's client widow, she wouldn't spend their time together staring at his naked body, but have her hands and mouth all over him.

What about the woman on the phone? Did her sexy voice go with her sexy mouth she had plans to put all over him? “Are you local?”

“According to Sam, I am.”

“Come again?”

A throatily sensual laugh most women could only accomplish with a sore throat carried through the phone line. “I thought you said loco. Sam thinks I'm crazy, but he doesn't have much room to talk.” Her voice returned to the low, husky tone, “I live about five miles out of town, in an older ranch-style.”

“Sam live there, too?” More specifically, was Sam her man and crazy enough to take after Thad with a gun should he catch him doing his woman?

“Yeah. Though, he's stepping out pretty soon.”

A female construction client wasn't bound to let on she would be alone when he arrived. That pretty much guaranteed it was pleasure services she sought. Until he had a better idea of her relationship with Sam, Thad wouldn't be providing those services—a quick drop by, however, would give him a chance to confirm she was after sex…while checking out the goods he would get to work with. “I'm busy later this afternoon, but I should have time to fit you in an inspection before then. What's the address?”

Her voice raised a little as she rattled off the address and told him the color of the house and surrounding landmarks. “By the way, my name's Lissa, or Liss. See you in a few.”

Another sigh slipped through the phone line before it went dead. His cock gave a happy little jerk in response. Thad looked down at his groin. “Hate to break it to you, buddy, but she was talking to me. Unless you want Sam putting you out of commission permanently, you'd best not get any ideas about bringing Liss bliss.”

 

Lissa did a little shimmy across her bedroom in potential outfit number four, a semi-sheer peach sundress that clung to her plentiful curves and required going braless with its open back and plunging scoop neck.

Sitting on the foot of her bed, Sam shook his head. “The ho-baby look's perfect for catching a bad boy, but you're chasing after a nice guy now.”

Drawing a frustrated breath, she unzipped the dress, yanked it over her head and tossed it on the bed next to him, where the previous rejects lay. It was damned good thing his personal taste ran to nice guys, since it was becoming increasingly clear she knew absolutely nothing about catching one herself.

Giving up on the closet, which contained a mix of moderately slutty bar clothes and casually refined work clothes and not one friggin' happy-medium outfit, Lissa tugged open her middle two dresser drawers and pulled out the first item in each: well worn, cut-off jean shorts and a v-neck, red tank top. Turning around, she jokingly lifted them for Sam's inspection.

Approval entered his brown eyes and he flashed his teeth in a smile. “Nice. Girl next door meets lady in red.”

Fisting the clothes in her hands, she groaned. Of course, when she was trying to be funny, she would finally get it right.

He lifted her black bra from where she'd earlier flung it on the bed and tossed it to her. “You sure you don't want me to cancel my meeting and stick around for protection?”

She feigned a pout as she set the tank top on the dresser. After hooking the back clasps, she worked the bra around her body and her breasts into the cups. “If you followed through on your offer yesterday and went down on me, you wouldn't need to be worried about some stranger coming over while I'm home alone.”

He gave her a sympathetic look. “Aw, honey, your kitty might have been happy for a few days, but in the end you would still be itching for more than I can give you.”

As if that wasn't apparent by the fact she'd been parading around in nothing but skimpy panties for the last half hour and he hadn't even acted a little excited.

Because she enjoyed teasing him and knew he found it equally amusing, Lissa swiveled around to face the mirrored closet door. She bent down to slide her bare feet through the legs of the cut offs and made a show of wiggling her black panty-clad ass in his face. His smile emerged as she slowly straightened, trailing her fingertips along her inner thighs. The shorts settled into place over her ample hips and she dipped her first finger inside the right cuff and beneath the leg of her panties. Her breath caught with the flick of her fingertip between her pussy lips.

With a hearty laugh, Sam shook his head. “You're outrageous, Liss.”

He might not be aroused by her behavior, but her body was turned on by the idea of him watching her finger herself. Part of her wanted to slide her shorts and panties down her legs and continue masturbating until she climaxed. A bigger part was aware of how soon Thad would be over. If she was really going to give this nice guy thing a try, she ought to practice at being a good girl in return.

Lissa pulled her finger free of her panties and shorts and grabbed the tank top from the dresser. She grinned at Sam's reflection. “I'm crazy and you love me for it.” Sobering, she turned around and pulled on the tank top. “Thanks for offering to stay, but I'll be fine alone with him.”

“Just promise me you will be careful. Even nice guys have their naughty days.”

Really? Now, there was a tidbit of info she hadn't planned on, but was damned glad to hear. Maybe she wouldn't have to practice at being a good girl. Not if Thad was feeling naughty enough to put out on the first date.

As if they were even having a first date.

He was coming over to check out her ceiling and roof, while she spent the time confirming he was single and then casually convinced him they should see each other when business wasn't an issue. “He's coming over to look at the roof, not to get it on.”

“So says you.” Sam eyed the tank top's v-neck, and she looked down to discover her cleavage nearly bursting out—either the shirt had shrunk with the last washing, or she'd gained weight. “So says me if after he see you in that top, he's still focused on the roof, you'd best be sending him my direct—” The doorbell rang, cutting him off and, in the next instant, curving his mouth in a sly smile. “I'll get it.”

Lissa's heart sped up. Thad was five minutes early. Punctuality was probably a trait common to nice guys, but it pleased her all the same. Grabbing a brush off the dresser, she moved back in front of the mirrored door and gave Sam's reflection a warning look. “Don't screw this up for me.”

He placed a hand over his chest and sniffed. “I'm hurt.”

“What you are is a drama queen. I mean it, Sammy. For all I know, this guy could be the one.” Or he might be married with six kids. But, damn, she hoped not. “I don't want him running away because you pinch his ass as soon as he clears the door.”

He dropped the offended act to flash an intrigued grin. “I only do that to the gorgeous ones, so I'll take that to mean we're talking some serious eye candy.”

She nodded at the open bedroom door. “Let him in and see for yourself. Just don't get any nibbling ideas.”

 

Typically Thad wasn't one for sizing another man up. But then, typically he wasn't greeted at a potential pleasure client's door by said client's husband. Or boyfriend. Or whatever the hell the admittedly good-looking, clean-shaven, brown-haired guy in the tailored black pants, matching tie and mint green dress shirt was to Lissa. “You must be Sam.”

With a nod, Sam slid his gaze the length of Thad, lingering a little too long for comfort in the area of his groin. Sam returned his attention to Thad's face to reveal an amused smile. “You must be Mr. Nice Guy.”

“Sam was just leaving,” a low, throaty feminine voice said from behind Sam.

Sam stepped back from the doorway and the owner of that sexy voice came into view and had Thad hoping to hell she was Lissa and her interest in him was purely physical.

Pleasure clients rarely greeted him in casual clothes, preferring lingerie, tight dresses, or nothing at all. This woman's clothes were causal. The way she filled them out was anything but. From her generous breasts to her curvy hips and thighs, she was the type of woman the term hourglass figure was coined for.

She was remotely familiar.

A warm smile curved her lipstick-free lips. She swept a hank of loose copper, shoulder-length hair away from her face, tucking it behind her ear before extending her hand to him. “Lissa Malone.”

Despite the fact he was no saint and the hellbent rebel years of his youth, Thad had always believed in God. Moments like this with natural beauties like her proved His existence that much more.

“Thad Davies.” Her hand was warm in his, her skin soft. The scent of vanilla drifted to him. Not strong or perfumey, like so many of his clients wore, but the subtle scent of lotion or body wash. “So you're worried about getting wet?”

Sam gave a deep chuckle, reminding Thad of his presence. Moving next to Lissa, Sam pulled her into his arms and whispered something in her ear that had her laughing, as well. He released her to give Thad a look that could mean “hands off” as easily as “treat her right,” then nodded a good-bye and took off down the covered porch to the sidewalk.

Lissa looked back at Thad. “
Should
I be worried?”

Between the sensual interest in her jade green eyes now and the sultry sound of her laughter moments ago, he suddenly remembered where he'd seen her before.