Yours for the Night (19 page)

GABRIEL PRICE LOUNGED BY THE RAILING OVERLOOKING THE lobby. He sipped his Scotch neat, the froufrou drinks served in the ballroom too sweet for 117

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his taste. He’d left Brenda schmoozing with the other guests. She was a great chum, and he always gave in when she asked him to attend one of these things. Currently a city supervisor for one of the smaller Peninsula bedroom communities, she was launching a campaign for state assembly next year. Which was why she liked a man on her arm instead of her preferred gender. With a career in politics, she feared coming out of the closet. Gabriel believed it could actually be in her favor, working for gay rights, but she was old school and her private life was simply that, private.

Normally he found these events tedious, but tonight he’d hit the jackpot. He’d followed the lady in red to the lobby. She’d stopped to talk with a couple, the wife noticeably pregnant.

There was something there, the lovely slope of her shoulders tense, her back ramrod straight, her hands behind her back, fists clenched, then open. She’d laughed, a brittle sound, whereas in the ballroom, her laughter had carried a musical quality.

That’s how he’d first noticed her, her laugh. He’d met her eyes several times across the room. She was interested. He was interested. Her lush curves in that stunningly red dress drew his gaze. Her red hair should have clashed with the dress, yet the gorgeous tones blended perfectly. She was with a man, but he was young, and the look she gave him spoke of boredom, morphing to downright disdain. Gabriel didn’t think they were together, not in any meaningful definition of the word. The man was like a mouse to her tigress. She batted him down with an elegant paw.

When she left the ballroom, Gabriel drifted after her. While she spoke with the couple, he observed her. And he learned two things. This man meant something to her. He’d bet on either an ex-husband or an ex-lover. And the pregnant woman was a slap in the lady’s face.

No. A slap was too mild. This was a harsh blow. Within minutes she extricated herself and entered the ladies’ room. The couple argued, not loudly, but soft, a shake of his head, a brief slash of her hand in the air. The man took the girl’s hand, kissed her knuckles, and ran a finger down her cheek as if he were wiping away a tear. Then they made their way to the ballroom.

Oh yeah. Bad scene. Though he was sure he was the only one who noticed the exchange. There’d been no histrionics, no heated words. But the devastation 118

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left in its wake was evident just the same. Oddly, the hint of vulnerability he’d witnessed attracted him. It made the woman human. Real. It made him want to touch her, hold her, offer the comfort of his arms. In the business settings through which he navigated 90 percent of his time, women sported a bigger set of balls than most of the men. They had to or end up as hyena bait, torn limb for limb. Corporate environments weren’t for sissies. Yet that very fact of life gave him a yearning for something softer.

Gabriel waited for the lady in red to return.

IN THE STALL, DOMINIQUE BLINKED UNTIL THE PAIN AT THE BACK of her eyes receded. She did not cry. She hadn’t cried since the week after Edward announced his intention to divorce her. She would never cry for him again. It was just seeing that pregnant girl, and the reminder of how badly Dominique had wanted a child. But you grow up, you come to terms with your life, enjoy the things you have instead of forever mourning what you’ve lost. The same was true of Edward. She’d gotten over her need to punish him. In the beginning, she’d wanted to take him for everything they owned. Then she’d met Isabel through a mutual friend, learned about Courtesans, and found a better payback. On the arms of rich, handsome men who paid a fortune to have her. She might not have seen much of Edward since the divorce was finalized, but she knew he’d heard all about her active social life at the country club. A different handsome, attentive man at every event. Isabel and Courtesans had saved her. She’d proven she was hot, desirable, special, and not the vengeful bitch he once accused her of being. She was also stoic. Having finished business, she yanked the stall door open, washed her hands, and proceeded to powder her nose and repair her lipstick. No one would see a single sign of her encounter with Edward and his beautiful, young, and very pregnant wife. She was so over that little burst of emotion.

Her game face back in place, Dominique strolled across the mezzanine, a seemingly unconscious sway to her hips. It came from feeling sexy. Before the divorce, she hadn’t had a clue how to sashay. Since finding Courtesans, the delicious little wiggle had become as much a part of her as breathing. Sex permeated her life. She fantasized. She’d bought herself a vibrator. She adored shopping for lingerie.

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She loved making a man wonder what lay beneath the dress. Like the gorgeous man in the charcoal shirt and black tux, from the ballroom. Trevor was right. The man was definitely hot. Leaning against the railing as she passed, he watched her, his gaze like a gentle caress down her spine, a warm breath, a tingle of anticipation.

Too bad all she had to look forward to was Trevor McDowell. 120

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2

DOMINIQUE HAD ONLY ONE SELF-IMPOSED RULE AS A COURTESAN: You didn’t dump one date for a better offer. At least, not unless you’d already disposed of the first one. Besides, that exceptionally attractive man was taken. Dominique considered it bad manners to try to lure him away. You never purloined another woman’s date. But if she gave him to you? Then you had carte blanche to do anything. Everything. And Dominique had. But not tonight.

As soon as she reentered the ballroom, she spotted Trevor by himself at the edge of the dining tables, watching the minglers down their last cocktail before dinner. He didn’t engage. He observed. And damn if she didn’t catch him checking out another man’s butt. It was a nicely shaped ass, but . . . Dominique decided to give him the benefit of the doubt. Maybe he wasn’t so much checking it out as wondering how his compared from a rear view perspective. Trevor was so self-involved, Dominique wouldn’t put it past him. Now, to Trevor or not to Trevor. Hmm. On the one hand, she felt like some naughty, nasty sex tonight. On the other, she didn’t feel like doing it with Trevor. Her multispeed silicon penis with dual twirl-and-vibrate mode would do a better job.

He didn’t notice her until she was at his elbow. “I’m back,” she murmured softly.

Trevor flinched, then pointed at the nearest female ass and said, “Doesn’t she know that tight pink jersey across her butt makes it look like the back end of a donkey?” He glanced at Dominique.

“Trevor.” She shushed him. The volume of his voice had climbed, and despite the chitchat, laughter, and music, they were close enough to the pink bottom to be overheard.

Trevor turned to her, his face flushed, a shaft of light from the chandelier making his eyes spark. “That dress shows every dimple and bulge in all that flab.”

That’s how men were. They tore you down behind your back. The woman in the jersey probably thought she looked gorgeous and flamboyant in that dress. Dominique imagined the middle-aged lady twirling in front of the mirror, viewing 121

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herself from all the possible angles except the one that mattered, blissfully unaware of all the dimples and bulges and flab. Until her husband walked in one day and dumped her for a younger, prettier model with no dimples or bulges and not even an ounce of flab.

In desperation, Dominique had gone on a crash diet the day after Edward made his announcement. She’d lost twenty pounds in a ridiculously short period of time. Edward hadn’t come back. She lost another ten pounds. She would have kept going, except that she actually stopped one day and looked at herself in the mirror. She didn’t look fit and gorgeous. She’d looked haggard and gaunt, her flesh sagging on her face.

She’d joined a gym, hired a nutritionist, and gained back all the weight with healthy eating and exercise. Real women have curves, and she now had them in abundance, along with being fit, toned, and amazing her doctor with fantastic HDLs and LDLs. She was better than she’d ever been. And she deserved better than an ass like Trevor McDowell. Every woman, including the pink-jersey lady, deserved better than Trevor McDowell. She stood to her full height in her four-inch stilettos and glared. “Trevor. I worry that you have this tremendous fixation on a woman’s posterior.” She leaned in. “You would be lucky if that gorgeous curvy woman decided to give you a blow job under the table. Except you’d be too self-absorbed to appreciate it.”

He blinked rapidly. “It was just an observation. I’ve been trying to entertain you all evening.”

“You’re not entertaining. You are rude and demeaning to women. I’m going home. I’ll get myself a cab.”

He touched the pocket of his tux. “But we have a deal. For later. I’ve got the money right there.”

“We do not have a deal. We never had a deal.”

“But all this money.” He widened his eyes, the brown catching her reflection.

“We have nothing in common, Trevor.”

“Who cares about having anything in common?” He actually sounded mystified. “I chose you because I was told you were the highest priced.”

She smiled. She was the highest priced courtesan, and proud of it. “That’s your mistake. I do the choosing, not you.”

“But”—he tapped his pocket once again—“I’ve got ten thousand dollars in 122

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here.”

She almost laughed. What an idiot to be carrying that much cash. “Ten thousand is nothing. A sheik once gave me a diamond worth thirty thousand.”

Bitchy and self-aggrandizing, it still felt so good. “For you, even that’s not enough.”

“But—”

“You’re catching flies, Trevor.” She tapped his jaw with her fingers. “I don’t sleep with men who have no manners.”

She didn’t just leave, she made an exit, stalking straight through the throng of partygoers, forcing them to part for her. It was marvelous. Almost as good as the day she’d decided to be a courtesan and show Edward just how much men were willing to pay for her.

THE WOMAN KNEW HOW TO MAKE AN EXIT, THAT WAS FOR SURE. She sashayed from the crowded ballroom and every male eye followed the sway of her hips in that hot, slinky red dress.

Following the direction of his gaze, Brenda leaned close. “Go for it,” she urged. “I’ve been looking for an excuse to ask Maureen to drive me home anyway.”

“Naughty slut,” he murmured.

“That makes two of us.” She beamed a smile at him. Brenda and Maureen, a public defender for the city, had been doing the dance for weeks. He glanced down at her. “I don’t want to have to worry that you didn’t make it home.”

“Darling, I’ll be fine.” Her eyes sparkled with just how fine she planned to be. He hoped this thing with Maureen would help Brenda to accept herself, come out of the closet or, at the very least, find a little happiness. He bent to kiss the tip of her nose.

“Now hurry”—she swatted him playfully on the behind—“before she changes into a pumpkin like Cinderella.”

“It was the coach that changed into the pumpkin.”

“Whatever.”

Gabriel turned to follow his lady in red. He’d unashamedly eavesdropped on what he could make out of her conversation, enough to hear her remonstrate with her partner about a rude comment he’d made in far too loud a voice. She 123

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actually gave a damn about someone else’s feelings. They’d spoken in hushed tones for a minute or two after that, then she’d walked out. It didn’t take a rocket scientist. The guy was an ass, and she’d left him. Since Brenda had her own plans, Gabriel wasn’t about to miss the opportunity. He exited the ballroom as the lady, having retrieved her wrap from the coat check, stepped onto the lobby escalator. He made a quick call to order his car around, then caught up with her outside the hotel, where she’d had a doorman signal a cab.

She stood back beneath the canopy, out of the rain and the bite of cool night air. Pulling her wrap tighter around her shoulders, she followed his progress across the lobby and through the revolving doors. A slight smile kicked up at the corners of her lips. As if she knew he was coming for her. Once at her side, he spoke easily, no introduction. “I have a car and driver and would be more than happy to take you wherever you want to go.”