Catch Your Breath

by Shannyn Schroeder

You’re exaggerating. You were well taken care of tonight.

  That sure of yourself?

  I took a shower hearing you moan my name and smelling you on my hand. I’m damn sure of myself.

  The words reminded him of her sounds and smells, and he got hard again.

  What did you do about it?

  Was she really wanting to have text sex? This was weirder than phone sex.

  You have an excellent imagination. Figure it out.

  Spoilsport. Want to know what I’m doing?

  She was killing him. Rather than just thinking it, he told her.

  No. It might kill me and I need to work tomorrow.

  As soon as he sent it, he could almost hear her laughter.

  Maybe I’ll just show you next time we see each other.

  Her answer was enough to set his mind at ease that she wanted to see him again.

  I don’t know when I’ll be free. I have to check both my schedule and James Buchanan’s.

  Let me know when and I’ll make myself available. Good night for real this time.

  The reality of his life settled in again. Going to work in the morning didn’t bother him. It was having the dual identity after he signed out for the night. He felt like he was treading water as James Buchanan. He just wanted to catch a break to solve the case.

  With any luck, he and Gabby would make some headway with the escort services Stan Decker had given him. He let his eyes close, but thoughts of high-class hookers and thieves followed.

  He wondered what would drive a supposedly happily married man to hire an escort. Whether for company or sex, he didn’t understand. If you’re not happy with your marriage, change it or divorce. What lies did these men tell themselves to make their behavior acceptable?

  Moira spent her morning calling the escort service numbers she’d copied from Jimmy. He’d probably have a cow if he knew, but she hadn’t lied to him when she said her story wouldn’t interfere with his case. Part of her hoped she’d hear and recognize the mystery woman’s voice at one of the services, but life wasn’t that easy.

  She’d planned to speak to whoever answered the phone at each place and ask about possible employment. If she could at least get an interview, it would get her foot in the door. She could find women to interview anonymously. Unfortunately, with the exception of the first, each of the numbers led to a generic voice mail stating nothing more than the phone number.

  But before she could get ahead of herself, she had to develop a plan. She had to become someone other than Moira O’Leary, reporter. She had to be a nobody.

  Creating a phony life was more fun than Moira anticipated. Her imagination rolled with it, and within the hour, she had a cover story. She studied her calendar, which had filled up once again. Since her last week of hitting every possible event hadn’t given her anything, she didn’t plan on trying again. But even with what she was expected to cover, adding in job interviews would fill the gaps.

  Maybe she wouldn’t be seeing Jimmy this week after all.

  After her fabulous orgasm and then his texts, she felt relaxed. For a change, she thought Jimmy was opening up, at least a little bit. She didn’t know what to make of his excuse that he was afraid of screwing things up with her, but it was better than where her mind had gone on its own.

  Thinking of Jimmy made her horny all over again, so she blocked him from her thoughts. She had work to think about. A cocktail reception at a college library tonight. She owed one editor a couple of stories from her incredibly busy week last week, so she sat down to churn out the words.

  A paragraph in, her phone rang. Ryan. He pretty much only called these days when he needed a sitter. She didn’t mind since he’d always done everything for everyone in the family, but she almost missed the calls he used to make just to check on her.

  She answered while still typing. “Hey, Ry. What night do you need a babysitter for?”

  “Who said I needed a sitter?”

  Her fingers froze on the keyboard. “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing’s wrong. I wanted to check on you.”

  Shit. Colin and his big mouth. “I’m fine.”

  “I talked with Liam last night.”

  Liam? Liam never ratted her out. He’d always been the one brother she could count on to treat her like a regular person.

  “He mentioned that you’re going out with Jimmy O’Malley.”

  Bullshit. She knew Liam never casually mentioned anything. “I am. So?”

  “I like Jimmy, he’s decent guy, but that whole family is a little messed up. Are you sure you want to get involved with him?”

  “I’ve always liked Jimmy. He’s a good guy. What’s your problem?”

  Ryan sighed. “Liam’s worried and asked me to talk to you. He seems bothered by the idea of you and Jimmy dating.”

  “Uh-uh. I talked to Liam yesterday, and he was totally okay with it. I mean, there was the usual big brother crap you all spew out like robots, but that’s it. What are you talking about?”

  Nervous flutters churned in her stomach. Nothing ever bothered Liam. He was a live and let live guy. He didn’t butt in to other people’s business. She sure as hell didn’t understand why he’d go to Ryan instead of talking to her.

  “Jimmy’s his friend. If things go south, he probably doesn’t want to have to choose between his sister and his friend.”

  “I wouldn’t make him do that. If it doesn’t work out, Jimmy and I would just avoid each other. Liam wouldn’t be stuck in the middle.” She toyed with the pens on her desk, lining them up like prison bars.

  “Then maybe he knows something about Jimmy that you don’t and he figures you won’t listen to him.”

  This entire conversation made no sense. Why was she talking to Ryan if Liam had the problem? “Thanks for checking on me. I’m fine. I’m having a great time with Jimmy, and I’ll deal with Liam myself.”

  “I’m pretty sure he wanted to avoid that.”

  “Too bad.” She disconnected, but the irritation still flared in her chest. She was used to Ryan coddling her. But not Liam. She couldn’t believe he’d gone behind her back to Ryan like he was tattling on her.

  At least the event tonight would put her near downtown, so she could go to the restaurant and confront Liam at work. He’d be extra pissed because he hated to be interrupted while cooking, but that was too damn bad. He was lucky she planned to wait until after the dinner rush. And if the stars aligned for him, she might not make a scene.

  Refocusing on the article on her computer, she pounded out paragraphs, fingers flying over the keyboard. She was tired of O’Leary men trying to run her life. She was capable of taking care of herself.

  After a productive afternoon of writing, Moira stood and stretched. She poured herself another cup of coffee and glanced over at the TV while considering popping in a yoga DVD. Her body could use a good stretch, especially after sitting for so many hours. She looked longingly at her mug of caffeine.

  Which did she want more—the coffee or the relaxed muscles?

  Never good at making decisions, she decided she could have both. She turned on the TV and slid the disk in. While it started, she chugged her coffee.

  She liked it when she got everything she wanted. Something to remind Liam of.

  Later that evening, Moira felt accomplished. She’d not only done an hour of yoga, but she’d managed to go to the reception and interview people about the new collection at the library. Between the leftover calm from yoga and the quiet peacefulness of the library, she thought her conversation with Liam had a real chance of being civilized.

  She drove to Porter’s and pulled into the lot. Before leaving her car, she carefully considered her approach. With Ryan or Colin, she always had to run headfirst into a confrontation with all of her weapons drawn. She wasn’t quite sure what to do with Liam because she couldn’t recall a time when she’d had to fight him.

  Too bad Liam wasn’t married. If he was, she could call her sister-in-law and get the scoop. Moira r
ealized how lame it sounded that she was wishing for a fake in-law because she didn’t know what to do with her own brother.

  Planning her argument wasn’t going to work in this case. She needed to confront Liam and take her cues from him. Inside the restaurant, she asked the maître d’ to seat her near the kitchen. When her waiter approached the table, she asked him to get Liam, and then braced herself for Liam to be pissed off. One thing he demanded from the family was that they never bother him at work.

  But Liam worked crazy hours and she wasn’t about to let this sit until they had dinner again as a family.

  Her waiter brought her a glass of water and told her Liam would be out in a minute. While she waited, she looked around the restaurant. She’d been here before, not long after Liam had gotten the job. It was a high-end steakhouse with a nice atmosphere, but that was it. Nice was adequate.

  Maybe she’d spent too much time eating and drinking with Chicago’s high society. She didn’t want nice; she wanted relaxed and fun. After walking in heels and a formal gown for hours, she’d much rather have gone to Colin’s bar and bowling alley to relax. That is, if Colin didn’t own it.

  She never had too much fun with her brothers around. Which brought her full circle to her mission for the night. Liam.

  “What’s up?” he asked as he took the seat across from her. “You never come here.”

  So he wasn’t pissed off. “I needed to talk to you, but I wasn’t sure when you were off.”

  “You could’ve called. Then you’d know I’m off on Wednesday.”

  “This couldn’t wait.” She toyed with her fork and spoon. “Ryan called me today. He asked about me and Jimmy.”

  Liam said nothing. Figures.

  “Why did you tell Ryan you were worried about me dating Jimmy?” She spoke quietly, hoping it would help Liam respond.

  “Because I am.” He leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms.

  “We talked yesterday and you were okay with it.”

  He raised an eyebrow.

  “You were!” Her voice jumped and she swallowed to calm herself. “Maybe you weren’t excited about the prospect, but you certainly weren’t demanding that I not see him.”

  “I know better than to demand anything when it comes to you. You’d continue just to spite me.” His voice and his posture were filled with steel.

  “What’s wrong? Jimmy’s your friend, and everyone agrees that he’s a good guy. Why wouldn’t I want to go out with him?”

  Liam leaned forward, crossing his arms on the table. “I’ve known Jimmy most of my life. He’s a great friend, but you’re not what he’s looking for and he’ll end up hurting you.”

  “What do you mean, I’m not what he’s looking for? I’m a woman. I have a pulse. And I like him. What else could he want?”

  Liam’s face turned scarlet. His voice became a harsh whisper. “Obviously, he’d like to bang you. Long term, you can’t be what he wants. And if you were, you’d never be happy.”

  “What the hell are you talking about? You’re talking in codes and mysteries. Spit it out, Liam. What’s Jimmy looking for that I can’t be?” Her chest tightened as she waited for the anvil to crush her. For Liam to be this upset, Jimmy must be hiding one hell of a secret.

  “He wants to marry a doormat, Moira. And I’ll be damned if I’ll let him turn you into one.”

  Moira opened her mouth to argue, but Liam’s hand shot up. “I have to get back to work. I don’t have time for a stupid argument. You need to trust me on this. He wants someone he can control, and that will never be you.” He stood and carefully pushed in his chair. “I don’t want to know what it would take for him to make you be that way.” Liam kissed the top of her head. “Give me a call later this week and we’ll have lunch.”

  Her mouth dried and the ability to form words fled. She dropped two dollars on the table for the waiter and left. No way could Liam be right about this.

  But how could he be wrong? Liam and Jimmy had been friends since elementary school.

  She drove home without thinking about anything. Her mind was like snow, a fuzzy, white blur.

  Moira woke the following day not feeling any better than she had when she’d crawled into bed. Instead of restful sleep, she’d been plagued by thoughts of Jimmy having ulterior motives. Liam said Jimmy was looking for a doormat, but he’d never treated Moira with anything other than respect. If anything, he was too . . . polite. Damn, she didn’t even have an adequate word for him. It was more than courtesy.

  If he viewed her as a doormat, wouldn’t he have exhibited those tendencies? Granted, they’d only been on one real date, but she’d known him most of her life.

  While she’d been at the reception and fighting with Liam, she’d forgotten to turn the volume up on her phone and she’d missed a call from one of the escort services. At least she assumed that’s who they were. A very polite woman left a cryptic message about available appointment times and an address. No need to confirm.

  She stood before her bathroom mirror and tried to make herself look presentable for an escort service. She wanted sexy business. Like the secretary every CEO wanted to fuck. A black pencil skirt and a tailored white blouse showing a hint of cleavage. And of course, a pair of fuck-me pumps. She had no idea what an interview would entail, so she texted Kathy the address where she’d be just in case.

  It was a system they’d developed when they went on dates in college. Always let someone know who and where. She got an immediate response.

  An afternoon date? Go you!

  She debated whether she should burst Kathy’s bubble. Neither of them had been having much luck dating as of late, but she didn’t like lying to her friend.

  No date. Just a work interview that’s a little shady.

  Too bad. I’ve got your back, though. Can’t wait to hear about the shadiness.

  Moira finished primping and headed out. She rehearsed her story as she drove and prayed she didn’t end up sounding like an actress spewing lines. She parked and hoped they’d validate because this story might eat her rent money. Suite 509. Nothing on the directory named the business located in 509.

  The elevator zoomed up to the fifth floor and her stomach plummeted. Maybe her nerves would work in her favor. On five, the doors pinged open and she faced a small reception desk. A young woman greeted her with a wide smile.

  “Hi, I’m Moira Donnelly. I have an appointment.”

  “Hi, Moira. I’m Lisa. I called and left you the message. Follow me, and I’ll give you a quick tour.” Lisa stepped from behind the desk. “We have a small office, but some girls come in to hang out and chat over coffee.”

  Moira wanted to see the coffee room. A good place to meet her interviewees, but she couldn’t ask yet.

  Lisa led the way down a short hall. She pointed to one door. “That’s the conference room. We hold meetings there occasionally.” At the next door, she stopped and knocked.

  “Come in.”

  Lisa pushed the door open and said, “Your one o’clock is here.”

  Moira followed and swallowed her surprise to see an older woman, maybe around sixty years old, sitting behind the desk. For some reason, Moira never considered anything other than the images of young, beautiful women working here.

  The older woman stood. “Hi, I’m Billie.”

  Moira felt like she was being put in an x-ray machine. She gulped and pushed out, “I’m Moira. Nice to meet you.” She led with her hand extended.

  Billie shook briefly and sat, so Moira followed.

  “How did you get our number, Moira?”

  “A friend.”

  “Does this friend have a name?”

  Moira’s lips tightened. She hadn’t thought they would ask about how she found out about them. “Yes, but I’d rather not say.”

  The answer seemed to satisfy Billie because she settled back into the chair. “What do you know about what we do?”

  “Not much. All I know is that you’re an escort service for selective cl
ientele.”

  Billie gave a short nod. “Why would you want to work here?”

  “I just moved to Chicago. I followed my boyfriend here against my family’s advice. After a month, he dumped me. I’ve tried working different jobs, but it’s hard. A friend suggested I consider being an escort because I have the right attributes.”

  Billie leaned forward on the desk. Her sickly red lipstick smudged unevenly on her mouth. The wrinkles around her mouth didn’t suggest happy laugh lines, just the leftovers of a hard life. Billie’s gaze raked over Moira’s body again, as if the first look hadn’t been enough. “When was the last time you read a newspaper?”

  “I read the online versions every day.”

  “So you can carry on an intelligent conversation with a man? Something beyond tabloid headlines?”

  Moira nodded. On this, she was sure of herself. “Give me a topic.”

  Billie flicked her finger over her mouse and glanced at the computer screen. “Syria.”

  “That’s a pretty big topic.” Moira inched closer, balancing on the edge of her seat, and launched into a monologue about the Syrian uprising.

  Two minutes in, Billie held up a hand. “Okay.”

  Then she just stared at Moira.

  Moira felt like she was sitting in front of her mother after breaking curfew when she was sixteen.

  “Do you have any questions?”

  “Yes.” Moira’s mind raced with ideas, but she knew she couldn’t push it. “Is everything here legal?” She paused for a half second and then rushed on with, “I don’t mean to imply anything, but we all hear stories and I don’t want to do anything that will land me in jail.”