by Karla Doyle
“No, Mommy, I’m allowed to go back and play again. I forgot to give you the note yesterday.” Macy hopped down from her seat and hurried to the living room. A quick dip into her backpack, then she returned to the table. “Here it is.”
The sealed envelope bore the Balducci Holdings crest in the top left corner. The sender had handwritten CANDACE CAINE on the front in black ink. Strong lettering, all caps, with a sweeping line beneath. Not the type of penmanship she’d expect from a woman, especially one as refined as Mrs. Balducci.
“Who gave you this note?” she asked, clinging to a sliver of hope.
“Vincenzo, but it’s from his daddy. He came to the classroom after morning announcements yesterday. Then Vincenzo gave it to me.”
“I see.” A bitter taste rose from Candace’s stomach and flooded her mouth. She picked up her mug and used the morning coffee to wash away the unwelcome taste. With clammy hands, she tore the end of the envelope and shook out the folded paper and card contained within.
Candace,
Since Macy had such a great time playing with Vincenzo last weekend, perhaps she’d like to come over this Saturday. My wife will be out of town for the weekend and I have no other engagements, so my schedule is wide open. I’ve enclosed a card with my personal cell number. Message me whenever is convenient and we’ll set up some play time.
Best, Enzo
Oh, she just bet he wanted to set up some play time. The kind that had nothing to do with their children.
“Sorry I forgot the note in my backpack, Mommy.”
Candace looked up from the page in her hands. The mask of neutrality she strove to present in the absence of legitimate happiness must have slipped, because Macy’s down-turned mouth matched her melancholy tone.
She reached across the table and squeezed Macy’s hand where it had stilled, spoon in hand. “There’s nothing to be sorry for, baby. And it’s nice that one of your friends invited you over, but I have other plans for us. Something better than playing at Vincenzo’s house.”
“But the climber in his backyard is bigger than the one at school. And he has a pool, Mommy. The buried-in-the-ground kind with a slide at one end and the water is as warm as a bathtub. Plus, he got a trampoline for his birthday.”
Lousy rich kid. Now Candace had no choice but to go big. “So, you’d rather do that than take the train into Toronto and go to Ripley’s Aquarium?”
“We’re going there?” At Candace’s nod, Macy sprang from her seat and proceeded to bounce around the kitchen as if its linoleum tiles were a trampoline. “Let’s go, let’s go, let’s go!”
“Soon. Finish your breakfast, then brush your teeth for two full minutes and make your bed. Then we’ll go.”
“Okay.” Macy skipped in for a hug before returning to her chair and the partially eaten bowl of fruit. “I love you, Mommy.”
“I love you too.” Today’s fun-filled agenda would set Candace back several hundred dollars. The price of dodging a bullet. She’d have to come up with a more cost-effective plan for avoiding Enzo…or take him up on his recent offer and stop worrying about money entirely.
After his first-ever appearance in the Montessori school’s drop-off line yesterday morning, he’d followed Candace to her car, where he’d made his intentions abundantly clear. He wanted her to himself. If she quit Lucky’s and became his personal call girl, he’d exceed her current earnings, pay her in cash, and ensure discretion.
No more repulsive men. No more strangers, or the frightening unknown that came with them, literally. That alone was incentive. The free time she’d have was another. Even if Enzo wanted to see her every day, it wouldn’t take more than an hour. Hell, even if he wanted to see her twice a day, she’d still have tons of free time. She could go back to university and finish her degree. Position herself for a respectable future career.
All she had to do was do Enzo. Just Enzo. Exclusivity was the condition of his offer—if you could call servicing one man instead of several per day a condition. A blessed relief would be more accurate, especially since the one man was attractive, well-spoken, and he’d never requested anything weird, sexually.
Her instinct had been the “no” she’d given him immediately. He’d declined to accept it, then told her to give it serious thought.
She shouldn’t need to think about it. Only a fool would reject his offer and keep working at Lucky’s. She was nobody’s fool. Hadn’t been since Ken had left her to fend for herself and their infant daughter.
She’d be crazy to decline Enzo’s proposal. But, if she accepted, he’d be calling the shots. She’d be playing by his rules instead of making her own.
Deciding who to temporarily lease her body to was the easy part. Deciding who would control her life was going to take a bit more thought.
Candace
Quarter past two according to the clock on the loungeroom wall. If she didn’t get another customer in the next ten minutes, she was done for the day.
Candace crossed her fingers. Putting more money in her pocket was always good. At the moment, getting out of here without any more putting out would be better. She’d had enough massage oil and pop-up dick for one day.
The telltale chime of the front door caught everybody’s attention. Three available massage attendants. Only a thirty-three percent chance the incoming guy would choose her. Still, the odds needed to be reduced. She curled her legs beneath her bum and shielded as much cleavage as possible with her paperback novel.
Paris stood and rearranged her boobs, boosting them higher. “How about you let me take this one?” she asked, semi-glaring at Candace.
“Hey, it’s out of my control if I’m the flavor of the day. But have at it. He’s all yours.” Candace waved one hand toward the reception area while raising the book to hide her face from view. “I won’t even make eye contact.”
“You won’t need to,” Paris said, returning to her spot on the opposite end of the couch. “This one has a known preference for vanilla.”
Around here, vanilla meant blonde, not kink-free sex. Candace peeked over the top of her book, pulling it up just as quickly. Too late. Fleeting as it was, eye contact had been made. Even a second’s worth was too much with Jake Campbell. But she could pretend it hadn’t happened. Worth a try, at least.
“Candy, you have a client.”
She didn’t look up. Didn’t answer Ginger’s limp-as-a-dishrag statement. Maybe if she blatantly ignored Jake, he’d go away. Then stay away, once and for all.
“Um, Candy?” Ginger prompted.
The force from four pairs of eyes practically seared holes through her book.
“One minute.” She held her index finger up, just above the cover. “I’m at a really good part—the hardworking heroine is about to kick the ass of the guy who refuses to leave her alone.”
Jake’s laugh filled the room. “Take your time, I’ll wait.”
Damn him for being so laidback. For having such an appealing, deep voice. At least the paperback hid the smile he’d brought to her lips. She faked reading two more pages before closing the book and meeting his gaze.
“You ready for me, handsome?” she asked, rising from the couch.
“Been ready since the minute I left last time.”
“Smooth. Very smooth.”
“True story, sweets.” Hand on the small of her back, he followed her out of the lounge area.
Sweets. The nickname he’d chosen didn’t make her inwardly cringe the way some terms did. God forbid she ever had a boyfriend who called her baby or honey. Those were forever ruined thanks to her time here at Lucky’s. But sweets…she kind of liked it. Coming from Jake’s mouth, anyway.
She shook her head as they reached the massage room. Yes, he was attractive. Charming. Qualities that’d be great if she’d met him outside of this place. Though if she had met him beyond these walls, she’d have to be evasive, if not untruthful, during the most basic types of conversation. No matter how she looked at it, getting to know Jake better wasn
’t in the cards. Growing to like him was definitely off the table.
On the subject of tables, she crossed the small room and patted the one her client belonged on. “How about it? Is today the day I get to explore what’s under those fine-fitting clothes of yours?”
“Maybe.”
Her stomach sank. Shame on her for expecting him to stick to his word about not enjoying her services. She should’ve known better, especially since his presence proved his word was worth shit.
She pasted on the smile she’d practiced to perfection. The one her customers wanted to see, because that’s all Jake Campbell was—a customer. “I’m glad you changed your mind about the nature of our relationship.”
He shook his head while taking a seat in the chair across the room. “I didn’t change my mind. The ‘maybe’ was in case you changed yours.” Hands folded behind his head, he stretched his long legs in front of him, crossing them at the ankles. “How about we start with an early dinner after you’re finished here. There’s a nice little Italian place on Duke Street. Food’s good. Atmosphere is casual and intimate. We can get to know each other better, maybe work our way up to some kissing before getting busy with those explorations you mentioned.”
“You’ve got to be joking.”
“I never joke about Italian food. Greek sometimes, but never Italian.” He made it difficult to be angry when he charmed her with his easygoing sense of humor. The irresistible twinkle in his eyes sealed the deal.
But call him on his bullshit, now that she could do. “I don’t go out with men who renege on their promises.”
He raised his sandy-brown eyebrows. “Spoken like a woman who thinks I belong in that category.”
“You do.” She huffed when he gestured for her to continue, as if the burden of proof was on her shoulders. “The last time you were here, you promised not to come back, yet here you are. Promise broken.”
“No, the last time I was here, you had me promise that when I left that day, I wouldn’t come back. I didn’t come back that day. Promise kept.”
That explained why he’d so readily agreed to her terms—he’d only planned to honor them in the most literal sense. The cat-that-ate-the-canary grin he sported suited him. Too bad it wouldn’t last.
“Dinner’s still a no, smarty pants. I told you I don’t date customers.”
“Customers pay. We’ve been in here five minutes and you haven’t mentioned money once. No payment means I’m not a customer.”
“You distracted me, that’s all.” The distraction part was true. That there was nothing more to the omission than an oversight was a big, fat lie. One she needed to cover before it bit her in her barely covered behind.
She extended her hand, palm up. “I’ve got half an hour left in my shift, so you’re only on the hook for eighty.”
Gaze locked with hers, he dug some folded cash from his front pocket. “You can take my money,” he held up the bills between two fingers, “but it won’t be in exchange for services. I’m still not your customer.”
Time she proved him wrong. She moved toward him, each slow step calculated for maximum sex appeal. She straddled his outstretched legs, then his lap. Hands on his broad shoulders, she rocked her hips side to side, slowly lowering herself onto his groin. Seated there, grinding against his hidden hardness, her breasts flush against his chest, everything changed. She changed. Heat flared between her legs, igniting a craving she’d almost forgotten.
“Candy—”
“Shh,” she whispered, placing a finger over his lips. “You know you want this. I can feel how much you want me, how hard you are because of me.” She slid her hands up and down his arms, gripped his biceps while rolling her hips back and forth. Friction built between her legs, pushing her closer to the boiling point. “This is all we’re ever going to have, Jake. This chemistry, in this room. Enjoy it with me.”
He pulled her tighter onto his lap. He grasped her hips, curled his fingers until each blunt end became a pressure point.
She had him, she was making him a customer. But he had her too. Another minute of this lap-dance-turned-dry-humping session and he’d accomplish something she’d only faked within these walls. That made him a hell of a lot more than a customer.
His grip tightened and he groaned. Cursed under his breath. Then put his sexy muscles to work lifting her off his lap. “Not like this,” he said, shaking his head while rubbing the back of his neck. “Not happening.”
No kidding it wasn’t happening. Her body was currently screaming at her for denying it a long-overdue release. She squeezed her thighs together in an attempt to relieve the needy ache he’d created. “Why do you come here if you don’t want to come?”
“Because I can’t stop thinking about you.”
“You don’t even know me. I might be the world’s biggest bitch outside this place. Maybe I chew with my mouth open and belch like a drunken backwoods hillbilly.”
“Go out to dinner with me so I can find out for myself. If you’re as nasty as you claim to be, I’ll excuse myself to use the restroom, sneak out the back door and never see you again. I’ll even stick you with the check.”
“That’s horrible,” she said, laughing. “Also, you’re relentless.”
“It’s gotten me this far.” He reached out to lightly stroke her leg. “Is it going to get me to an Italian restaurant with a beautiful blonde who may or may not be a belching bitch?”
God, she was tempted. She had to bite her tongue to prevent a yes from slipping out. “No. Not with this blonde, anyway.”
“Then I guess it’s a solo dinner at home for me, because you’re the only woman I want to take out.”
She shouldn’t find him sweet. Shouldn’t, but did. “Are you okay?” she asked, when he winced while pushing up, out of the chair.
“Yeah. Just overdid it at the gym with Curtis the other day and I’m still feeling the aftershocks. No big deal.”
Curtis. No. He couldn’t possibly be talking about the only Curtis she knew. Or could he? They were both cops, after all. She sucked in a breath while the room spun around her.
“Hey.” Jake lifted her chin with two fingers. “My turn to ask if you’re okay. All the pretty roses just disappeared from your cheeks.”
“I’m fine.” She shook off his touch. “Is Curtis your trainer at the gym?”
Jake snorted out a single laugh. “He’d like to think so. No. Curtis is a friend I met on the force. Sara’s boyfriend.”
Candace grabbed the back of the leather chair for support. “Oh my God, it all makes sense now.”
“What does?”
“Why a good-looking cop who could undoubtedly get all kinds of sex for free would come to a place like this. Your comment that you harassed Sara at the front desk as a favor for a friend. How every time I’m around you, I keep having to remind myself that I shouldn’t find you charming or likable, since you’re one of the douchebags who tried to intimidate Sara at her old apartment. Because you weren’t one of them.”
“Glad we got that cleared up. Now you can find me good-looking, charming and likable without all the guilt.” Laughing, he jerked away when she swatted at him. His smile didn’t mask the cringe of pain that accompanied the playful maneuver.
“How’d you overdo it at the gym?” she asked, stepping closer.
“Bench press, maybe. Or dumbbell flies. Weighted pull-ups. Pretty much everything I did on chest and back day.”
Oh, yes, she could picture him doing those things. How his jaw would clench as he pushed his physical limits, the way his muscles would flex and ripple during the motions.
She shook off the visual while gently pressing her fingers against the area she’d seen him rubbing. “Is this where you’re feeling the pain?”
“Yeah, that’s it. A bit in the front delt too.”
“Have you seen anybody about it? A doctor or physiotherapist?”
“It’s not that bad. I’ll take some ibuprofen. It’ll be good to go in no time.”
“Typical male solution,” she said, at which he grunted. “How many days has it been since you hurt it?”
“Enough.” He groaned as she kneaded a spot at the base of his neck. “That feels good. Not as good as when you were on my lap, but still damn good.”
“Hey, you’re the one who ended the fun.”
“Had to be done, sweets.”
“Know what else has to be done?” She abandoned him and walked to the massage table. She patted the white sheet, then crooked her index finger at him.
He shook his head. “Can’t do it. Not paying you to touch me.”
“No hanky panky, just a straight-up massage to ease some of those tight muscles. You’d pay somebody for that kind of massage, wouldn’t you?”
“Yeah, but not somebody I want hanky panky with.” One playful wink and a couple of long strides brought them face-to-face again. “What if once your hands are on me, I have a moment of weakness and ask for a happy ending?”
“Then I’ll grab the romance novel I was reading and skip to the end for you.”
His laughter was eclipsed only by his handsome smile. “All right, you win. But only because of the pain. How do you want me?”
After that close call on his lap, she had several ways in mind. None of which she wanted him to see in her eyes, so she turned to fetch the oil from a nearby shelf. “Shirt off and facedown.”
“Good as done.”
In her peripheral vision, she watched him peel off his t-shirt and toss it aside. His upper body lived up to her imagination. Not huge or bulky, but definitely fit and strong. Lots of hard, lean muscles wrapped in suntanned skin. Totally her type—as of now, anyway.
She saw a lot of male bodies in her line of work. Some disgusting, some decent. Jake’s physique topped the best of them. Combined with his handsome face, sense of humor and career, he seemed like one heck of a catch. Yet he kept coming back here, pursuing a sex worker determined to be rid of him. Maybe he was the type who enjoyed a challenging chase more than the prize.