by Cari Quinn
“I thought everything sexual was your territory.”
“When it comes to pleasing a woman, yes. When it comes to striking out, no.” Jax continued before Sterling had a chance to tell him to go to hell. “I’ve heard some stuff from other guys that might be helpful. There are some signs to look for so you can tell if she’s giving you the ol’ skeeve-ho.”
“Don’t you mean heave-ho?”
“Nah. It’s pretty skeevy to lie during sex. Just say it’s not working for you. Easy enough.”
To be fair, he couldn’t entirely blame Ang for last night. His idea of foreplay had been to throw her over a mattress. He hadn’t even kissed her before he’d pulled down her pants. That wasn’t his usual MO, but he’d been trying to speed up the process.
No wonder she’d faked with him. He’d pulled a grade-A bastard move.
“Sometimes a woman has reasons,” he said quietly.
Jax grunted. “Two things I’ve heard are almost fail-safe are to check their toes and their nipples. Granted, nothing is fail-safe with a woman. They’re all like backward Rubik’s Cubes, but you gotta go with odds. Usually during orgasm, toes curl. And their nipples get hard. Obviously you can have both without climaxing.”
“That doesn’t sound fail-safe to me.”
“What the hell do I look like to you, Dr. Drew? That’s as good as it gets, wiseguy. You don’t hear my woman complaining.”
Cass put up a fuss in the background and Sterling had to grin. “Yes, I do.”
“She’s weighing in on this issue. Says ‘ooh’ is another clue. If they start ‘oohing’ a lot, it’s probably a total fake. Drawn-out like, not your garden variety ‘oh’. Apparently only porn chicks say ‘ooh’ with any regularity. Who knew?”
Sterling pressed his fist to his forehead. He hadn’t been sure on the toes or nipples thing. The ‘ooh’, however, had nailed him good. “Thanks. I appreciate the tips.”
“So who faked on you?”
“No one. Absolutely no one at all.”
“Liar, liar,” Jax said in a singsong voice. “You hooked up last night. I gotta say, about fucking time. Sorry it didn’t work out better. Next time, I recommend oral first. The guy that goes down gets plowed. It’s almost a no-brainer.”
“Down and plowed don’t rhyme, FYI. And I hear Cass beating you. I hope she doesn’t stop until you’re concussed.”
“Dream on.” Jax turned quiet. “So, ah, it wasn’t the pregnant one, was it?”
“Who said she was pregnant?”
“After that day in the bingo hall, it was easy enough to guess. She kept cupping her stomach.”
Guilt reared up inside Sterling’s chest. Reared up again, since it had basically never stopped since last night. “Why does it matter if it was her?”
“God, man, did you really need to go there? She’s already knocked up. Don’t mess with her head.”
“How can you claim to know anything about her situation? I barely do and I’ve known her since she was a kid.”
“That’s just it. She looks like a kid. You’re not. And look, I understand you’ve been going through a dry spell, but you know better. If you’re not in the place to commit, a hit and run with a woman in the family way spells trouble.”
That was it exactly. He was in the place to commit. If one of his exes had turned up pregnant, he probably would’ve thrown a ticker-tape parade. He wanted children. Wanted a wife. Didn’t want to sleep alone for the rest of his damn life.
More than anything, he wanted simple. Someone he could love and be loved by. No games, no drama, no meddlesome ex-boyfriends who’d fathered babies they had no right to and didn’t deserve because they rated beneath the cigarette butt stuck to his shoe.
And that was a serious problem, because Ang’s baby wasn’t his concern. She was his friend. He cared about her and, by extension, her child. But a smart man wouldn’t get involved.
Too bad he already was.
“You’re assuming an awful lot.”
“I am. Now tell me I’m wrong about any of it.” After a minute, Jax inhaled loudly. “Listen, I don’t mean to be a jerk. If you went out and picked someone up, I’d be happy as a clam. Though how anyone knows clams are happy, I don’t know. But that’s not you. You’re a straight arrow. No one-night stands for you.”
That again. Sterling barely smothered a growl. “How is it that everyone presumes to know what I would and wouldn’t do?”
“Open book, man. It’s not a bad thing. With you, people know what they see is what they’ll get. Which is why I have to speak up when you’re taking an unplanned detour that won’t work out well for anyone, especially you. Free advice.”
Exactly what he’d wanted from Jax—advice on how to handle the situation with Ang. Not judgment, no matter how well-meaning. It just went to show that coupling up did funny things to a man’s personality, because a few months ago, Jax probably would’ve been telling him to hit it and quit it or something equally inane.
“She’s pregnant,” Jax reminded him, as if Sterling had forgotten for even a second. “So that means all bets are off. You’re not dealing with just one person now.”
“I know that. Despite the fact that you’ve decided what went down, we didn’t have sex.”
“So you’re…boning up in case she decides to fake one? Right.”
“Believe what you will.” This conversation had enlightened him in some ways, and only increased the darkness that had taken up residence inside him in others. He had enough opinions in his head. Adding in Jax’s was unwelcome and unnecessary.
So much for seeking counsel. As usual, he’d have to go it alone.
Good thing you have another hand to switch off with when your right gets tired.
“Dude, that fancy-ass car’s still in your driveway. You forget I’m used to seeing who comes and goes at your place. And that’s usually no one.”
“I have guests on occasion.”
“Rarely. Today Cass and I came over to Ma’s for Sunday brunch and there’s a BMW in your driveway, even after you left. Suspicious.”
Sterling didn’t know whether to get pissed or to laugh. Since he’d been pissed enough for one day—mostly at himself—he chose to laugh. “Christ, are you spying on me?”
“You wish. Being a good neighbor requires keeping an eye on things. By the way, your recycling bin is sitting in the street again. I think the Percy’s dog got a hold of it.”
Yes, laughing was his only recourse. “Why did I move on your street again?”
“It’s not my street anymore. Now I’m happy out in the boonies.”
“Yeah, because Yardley’s such a bustling metropolis,” Sterling said drily.
Jax continued as if Sterling hadn’t even spoken. “I’m pretty sure what swung you was the fruit basket my ma sent to convince you to move here. You’re the one who insisted on talking to the neighbors before making a decision.”
“That probably had something to do with it. I had no idea she had such an annoying son.”
“Ha. You love me. I’m irrepressible.” Jax covered the phone for a moment. “Listen, I have to go. Got stuff.”
“Your eloquence is truly stunning. Well, thanks.”
“Did I help?”
Not at all. “Heaps. And stop peeking in my windows, you perv.” Sterling hung up before Jax could toss back a response.
Sterling took off his hands-free and glanced at the time. Another hour until he’d arrive home. He needed to get a coffee and clear his head. Maybe he’d go for a run when he got back.
He’d started running when he’d moved in across from Mrs. Wilder’s house, and somehow he and Jax had struck up a friendship. There was no rhyme or reason to it, since they were polar opposites in most ways. Jax had come over to welcome him to the neighborhood one day when he’d been home on a break from baseball. The next thing Sterling knew, he and Jax were running together and exchanging insults via text. He’d been surprised as hell when Jax had posed the idea of him joining the bodyguard agency, using the pos
sibility of an even three-way stake with Chase as a carrot, though that had yet to occur. In his past, he’d dabbled in security and private investigation, but heading up a fledgling bodyguard agency counted as a whole new challenge.
He liked challenges, particularly when they weren’t female related.
By the time he pulled in to his driveway, he was no closer to a solution for how to deal with Ang, and he was high on caffeine to boot. Good thing he could burn off the excess energy with a long run through Connors Park a few blocks away.
Maybe he’d just keep running until it was dark, then go to bed. Then in the morning, do it all over again. Staying out of the house and avoiding Ang seemed like the only surefire remedy to his dilemma.
What dilemma is that? That you’re impossibly aroused by a much younger, pregnant woman? Surely that isn’t a problem.
Sterling slammed his car door and skulked inside, trying to keep watch for Ang without looking like he was doing so. Luckily the living room and kitchen were empty, but he heard music coming from the guest room. He took the reprieve for what it was and aimed for his own room.
He changed into sweats and a T-shirt, then sat down at his computer to check e-mail. Before long, he’d logged on to Sole Mate, more out of habit than genuine curiosity. He didn’t spend long on the site daily, but he usually answered any messages he received and occasionally did a quick search of the new members. He hadn’t met anyone that had pushed him to take things to the next level, including DizzyDuck from the night before. Her real name was Donna, and she seemed nice enough, if a little more pushy than he’d expected. He hadn’t discouraged her enough last night either. Proof positive he needed to stay offline when under the sway of powerful urges.
His Sole Mate mailbox held two new messages. One from Donna and one from a new member named GothGeek. He opened Donna’s first and smiled over her apology for her “forwardness” the night before. He shot back a quick reply and opened GothGeek’s note with one eye on the clock. It was already midafternoon. He had to get going on his run so he could be back by six to heat up the casserole Hilda had left. With luck, he’d be able to leave a wrapped plate in front of Ang’s door without having to actually speak to her.
A long evening of paperwork and studying for his PI exam awaited him. There was comfort in routine.
He clicked on the note and read it with one eyebrow lifted.
Hi there. Your profile intrigued me, and to be honest, I haven’t been intrigued by anyone on this site yet. It’s all so fake, you know? I guess you would, since it says you’ve been a member for three months now. Does that mean you haven’t found anyone worthwhile? I’m new to New York and not really sure how to meet people. Besides, there’s only one person I want to meet. Someone special. Who gets me as I am and won’t want me to change. I suppose that’s a fantasy. But I like fantasies. My favorite author is Tolkien. Who’s yours?
Sterling frowned. GothGeek was getting surprisingly personal for a first correspondence. Most of the women—he hoped they were truly women—sent quick, chatty missives full of statistics and friendly commentary on his photo or his profile. He usually heard a woman’s cup size before he knew her favorite book, or if she even enjoyed reading. But here, within a few lines, he knew GothGeek was new in town, wanted to meet her soul mate for real and liked huge fantasy novels.
I also enjoy math and science and being out in nature as much as I can. I’m sitting by my bedroom window in my new place, and I can hear kids hollering as they ride their bikes. It’s a nice sound, not annoying at all.
So she was smart and liked kids too. All positive signs. Unfortunately she didn’t have a photo on her profile yet, probably because she was brand-new. He scanned ahead to see if she mentioned it and zeroed in on the explanation like a fisherman on his first real catch of the day.
Sorry I don’t have a pic up. I need my roommate to take a current one of me. I’m pretty average looking. Average height and weight, hair color subject to change depending on what’s on sale. Light eyes. Am I supposed to get more personal than this? It seems weird to be thinking of passing on measurements to a total stranger, but from what I’ve seen on here, some people head straight for the good stuff. Not really my lane though, so if it’s yours, sorry to disappoint.
He wasn’t disappointed. Far from it. Finally it seemed like he’d found someone who wasn’t just out for an online hookup or a real-life booty call. Maybe. It was probably too soon to tell.
If you want to know more, leave me a message. I’ll be waiting to hear. xo, Geeky
Xo. Hugs and kisses. Cute. Somehow he’d stumbled upon a cute—personality-wise at least—reader with intelligence, wit and potentially rainbow-colored hair.
Rainbow-colored hair made him think of Ang, but he forced out the thought almost as soon as it formed. He wasn’t going there again. He also wasn’t going to feel even more guilt for writing the note he was about to write, because what had happened between him and the woman singing down the hall had been a one-time thing. It was for the best.
Besides, responding to GothGeek felt natural. He absolutely refused to overthink for one damn time in his life.
Thanks for your note, Geeky. I’m guessing you saw that I work in security and finance, so you’ve probably figured me for something of a geek as well. My idea of a wild night is curling up with the stock pages and, when I’m feeling edgy, the latest Koontz or King.
Great. He’d already established himself as boring. Should he slide in something about enjoying various pleasures of the flesh? Maybe just a sly reference.
When those won’t suffice, I pursue fascinations of a prurient nature.
Perhaps that made him sound like a fetishist. However untrue, that was still much better than boring.
He continued on, detailing his hobbies and a brief overview of his family. That he was an only child, single, from good stock. The product of fine-quality breeding, as his father was wont to say. But he didn’t add that. Even he could tell that probably wouldn’t win friends and influence people.
By the time he signed off, he was certain he would never hear from GothGeek again. He didn’t look good on paper. He probably didn’t look all that good in actuality either, when rated against other prospective dates. His incessant work schedule and the old-fashioned manners he had trouble stripping away once things moved past the getting-to-know-you stage didn’t make the women go crazy.
At least they hadn’t made Christine, Rhonda and Tricia go crazy. He had no intention of delving further into his romantic past than that.
Shoving it aside, he rose to get ready for his run. He opened the door, prepared to jog downstairs without sparing Ang’s door a glance. Then he heard her singing along with a Madonna song and grinned.
He hoped she’d had lunch. She was eating for two now and shouldn’t be missing meals.
Perhaps he should pick up some Count Booberry or whatever it was while he was out. Something loaded with sugar and utterly lacking in nutrients. Maybe he could find a way to hide vitamins in her junk-food cereal just like he’d hidden meds in his mother’s cat’s food dish that one time.
Over an hour later, he headed back upstairs, muscles burning pleasantly from his workout. He’d made it halfway when Ang singing “Like A Virgin” carried down to him. Must be a Madonna fan. She even managed to sing her own backup. It was rather impressive.
He stopped in front of her door and lifted his hand to knock, then decided to leave her be. She sounded happy, and seeing him might affect her mood aversely. Wouldn’t be the first time. So he left his present outside the door and went to take a shower, telling himself he’d only do a super fast check of his e-mail on the way.
Instead he pulled up his Sole Mate e-mail and battled the irrational hope that GothGeek had replied to his stilted message. His grin returned as he saw she had. As Jax would say, score.
I didn’t expect you to respond so fast. Most people on this site claim to be looking for new friends, though I doubt that’s all they’re searching for. I
f you had another objective, say to find someone special too, that would make me edgy as well—in a good way. I don’t think I’m capable of producing the same level of edginess in you as Koontz or King, but I’ll do my best.
The rest of the note continued on in the same fun, semisnarky voice as she regaled him with details about her own family. She, too, was a lonely only, and had an unspecified service job. She’d attended college, though she hadn’t attained a master’s degree as he had. Yet. In spite of her current “transitional period”, she knew she’d land on her feet, and that would most likely include more education. In the meantime, she was broadening her mind with episodes of reality TV and classics on the cartoon channel.
He couldn’t stop grinning. She was entertaining. Enough different from him to be interesting yet with surprising parallels.
She’d come from a background similar to his. Thanks to his current profession, he made a habit of reading between the lines, and he got the feeling she hadn’t had to struggle financially. Maybe that was why she had so much time for reality TV and cartoons. Not all trust-fund babies were like him, pushing to prove himself at all costs.
It must be nice to feel certain about one’s worth without constantly needing to reassert it. Confidence in a woman was damn sexy.
He knew he should probably wait to respond. Looking overeager was never good. Besides, he needed to shower—and only shower—and see about that casserole. He didn’t know what time Ang preferred to eat. She’d probably feel comfortable preparing a meal in his kitchen, but he suspected she might not bother. Already he could tell her self-care could use improvement. She’d had shadows under her eyes big enough to get lost in this morning, for God’s sake.
He’d be damned if he gave her any reason for them to multiply.
Just in case her nutrition was lacking, he’d bought a bottle of prenatal vitamins while at the corner store. So they weren’t exactly prenatal. More like for extreme fitness or some such. Mercer’s didn’t have the best selection. But vitamins were vitamins, right?
He should do some reading up on pregnancy topics. Just so he was informed.