Mine Until Morning

by Jasmine Haynes

“She didn’t scare me off. We just had—”

  “Differences.” Ma cut him off, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “Yeah, I know.” She shook her head. “I’ve heard it all before.”

  It pissed him off that she made everything Cleo’s fault. “Did you ever think that maybe Cleo was right, and the men she dated did turn out to be assholes?

  You know we’re all on our best behavior until we get what we want.”

  She tipped her head. “That true for you, too? You were pulling a snow job on me and Heidi just so you could get in Cleo’s pants, but you’re really an asshole at heart?”

  His heart thudded in his chest. “No.”

  “So tell me what you”—she pointed a bent finger—“did to screw it all up.”

  She was so quick to blame Cleo. He knew families had history, and an outsider understood only part of the story, but Cleo obviously hadn’t told Ma the truth about him. He’d lied to Cleo. Maybe he didn’t believe what he’d done for the past three years was amoral. He’d enjoyed it, brought sweetness into the lives of lonely women, but a hell of a lot of society would disagree with him. Cleo had made a choice, but he was the one who hadn’t been honest in the first place. He deserved what he got.

  He would not let Ma go on disparaging her daughter.

  “I’m not an asshole,” he said. “But I do have a fault that Cleo couldn’t live with.”

  Ma snorted. “Yeah. You’re probably a serial killer or something.” She sipped from her mug and grabbed another cookie.

  He smiled, though he didn’t feel it on the inside. “Actually, I sleep with women for money, and Cleo just didn’t think that was the kind of man she wanted to have around her teenage daughter.”

  Ma spat out her coffee.

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  12

  “NO WAY.” MA LOOKED A LITTLE BUG-EYED.

  “It’s true.” Admitting it to Cleo had broken something inside him. With Ma, he had no real stake. The lady could think of him whatever she wanted.

  “How much money do you make?”

  He laughed. Trust Ma. “Three to five thousand a date”—he seesawed his hand in the air—“give or take.”

  Ma gaped. “Holy shit.”

  This time when he smiled, he felt it. Somehow it was good to shock Ma. Maybe she’d begin appreciating Cleo a little more.

  “How’d you get started?”

  “I’d dated a few female courtesans myself.”

  “Courtesans? Like from the old days?”

  “It’s preferable to being called a whore.” The word had such a negative connotation, while he considered what Isabel’s agency provided a necessary service. In general, courtesans gave people their fantasies. Specifically, Walker empowered women.

  To say that to Ma, however, sounded too much like justification.

  “Aren’t you afraid of being arrested?”

  “We’re very discreet. We only work with people recommended to the agency, and we only accept gifts. Payment isn’t required.” Though of course it was required, just never stated in such terms.

  “So you’re tricky.”

  He grinned. “Exactly.”

  She started pestering him with questions. “How long have you been doing it?”

  “About three years.”

  “What did you do before?”

  “I was a stockbroker.”

  “Hah,” she cackled, “so you lost your shirt and now you have to sell yourself.”

  “Actually, I got out at the height of the market.”

  “Why’d you do that?”

  He patted his heart. “I wanted to make it to fifty.”

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  “So if you’re not doing it for the money ...” She trailed off, spreading her hands.

  He wasn’t sure what he’d been expecting from Ma. Maybe a freak-out to rival Cleo’s. He certainly hadn’t anticipated her curiosity, but he satisfied it. “I like making women feel desirable and good about themselves.”

  Her face twisted. “Very admirable.”

  “I didn’t say it was admirable. I simply enjoy it.”

  Sitting back in her chair, she crossed her arms over her bony chest. “What about protection?”

  “Always.”

  She harrumphed, stared at him, her steely blue eyes working him over. “Well, at least you’re honest about it.”

  He gave her a grim smile. “No. I wasn’t honest. Cleo didn’t know until last night.”

  She arched one scraggly eyebrow. “Did she see you with one of them?”

  “She’s always seen me with them.”

  “Heh. At the restaurant,” she surmised. “She just didn’t know what was going on.”

  “Correct.”

  She leaned forward and dropped her voice to an avid, greedy pitch. “Then last night, she got jealous while you were wining and dining one of them, and totally went ballistic, so you had to tell her.”

  “No. I haven’t been on a date since Cleo brought me home to meet you and Heidi.”

  She made a noise in her throat. “She didn’t bring you home. You showed up.”

  “I stand corrected.”

  “And I do realize you’re trying very hard not to tell me exactly how Cleo figured it out last night.”

  “Some things aren’t your business.”

  “None of it’s my business.” Ma laughed heartily, then broke into a cough he worried about. He noticed she hadn’t asked to smoke in his house yet.

  “Okay, so you’re not going to tell me,” she said. “But tell me this instead. How does a person get to be a courtesan with your so-called agency?”

  “Recommendation. Then there’s an interview process. Training.”

  Ma made a big round O of her lips. “Training,” she whispered. “That sounds 159

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  like fun.”

  He didn’t tell her it was a psychology seminar on reading people’s body language and interpreting nonverbal signals, all in the quest to figure out what a client needed if they weren’t able to articulate their desires. Isabel’s mission was to provide a client’s perfect fantasy.

  Tapping a finger on the table, Ma waited several beats. “How about you recommend Cleo for a job?”

  Thank God he hadn’t been drinking or he’d have spit it out just as Ma had done. “I don’t think so.”

  “But she could pay for Heidi’s tuition. And we could fix the bathroom. And she could get a new car. And she wouldn’t have to work two jobs anymore.”

  “She’d never be home at night.” Flabbergasted, it was the only excuse he could come up with.

  “Oh yeah, right.” Then she brightened. “But I bet there are plenty of men who want a little afternoon nookie.”

  He’d never met anyone like Ma. He expected her to freak, and instead she was offering up Cleo.

  Though God help him, he had images of Cleo and him servicing a client’s needs together. It was a heady fantasy.

  “Ma,” he said, “that is the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard. You know damn well she’d never do anything like that if she thought Heidi might figure it out.”

  The little lady sighed. “You’re right. She’s a hard case.” Then she smiled. “But now that I know, I can make her see how what you do doesn’t really matter.”

  “I’ve given up the life.” He’d lost his taste for it. Not because it was wrong or immoral, but it was paltry compared to what he’d shared with Cleo. He wanted unparalleled sex like that, with the emotion, the feeling. As cliché as it sounded, she’d ruined him for other women.

  Ma clapped her hands. “Then it’s perfect. Since you’re not a gigolo anymore, it’s not a problem. I’ll get her to see the light, and you can come back.”

  Ma didn’t get it. Things were either black or they were white, no shade in between. Cleo saw all the shades of gray. “I would appreciate it if you didn’t discuss this with Cleo.”

  She gaped. “Why not?”

/>   “She’s old enough to make up her own mind. And she’s done that. If she changes it, she has my number.”

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  “Shit. You give up too easy, boy.” She cocked her head. “But you do care, right?”

  His chest hurt, a slow burn beneath his ribs. He took too long to answer.

  “My God, you really are in love with her.”

  She made it sound like some sort of anomaly. “Cleo’s a very special woman,”

  he said.

  She huffed. “Well, I know that, but she usually doesn’t let a man get close enough for long enough to figure it out.”

  Ah, but he’d gotten to know her over three years. She’d been burrowing deeper under his skin the whole time.

  “You need to tell her,” Ma declared.

  “No. That’s putting another burden on her. I’m not going to use love like some sort of bargaining chip.” Besides, being in love with her didn’t make a difference. He could not change the man he was. In fact, he wouldn’t change. He might never take another client for Isabel, but he would always feel the things he’d done were good for the women he’d been with. He’d helped them. He wouldn’t beg forgiveness for something he didn’t believe was wrong. That would have been another lie.

  “Wow,” Ma said. “You’re way too self-sacrificing.”

  He leaned forward, pointed his finger. “And don’t try to be my fairy godmother, either.”

  She blew one of her raspberries. “You’re no fun.”

  Probably not, but he wasn’t about to let her harass Cleo.

  “Did you tell Cleo all this stuff just like you told me?” She rolled her eyes and nodded her head as if she heard a question he hadn’t asked. “Yeah, yeah, not about the love part, but everything else? Like how you make women feel good about themselves, and desirable, yadda yadda.”

  “No. It wouldn’t have made a difference.” Nor had Cleo given him the chance.

  “You’re an idiot.” Ma shook her head slowly. “Come to think of it, you’re both idiots. I wash my hands. Now, take me outside because I need a cigarette bad.”

  SATURDAY MORNING, CLEO SLEPT LATE AFTER TOSSING AND TURNING

  most of the night. When she came downstairs, she’d half expected Walker to be in the kitchen having coffee with Ma. Like he wasn’t going to take no for answer. Her stomach rolled over when he wasn’t there. God. She actually missed him, 161

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  not just a man around the house, but him.

  The coffee in the pot was overcooked and a note from Ma lay on the kitchen table. She was out getting a few groceries. Cleo pulled open the tins, but couldn’t find the cookies Ma had baked last night. Upset about Walker, maybe she’d thrown them out. Heidi wouldn’t be home until the afternoon. A reprieve. But Cleo had to plan what she’d tell Heidi about Walker. Jeez. Things were so complicated.

  Her cell phone rang just as a fresh pot of coffee finished brewing. Her heart raced. Damn if she wasn’t hoping it was Walker. She picked up without even checking.

  She really had to get over him. “Hello?”

  “Yo, your car’s ready.”

  It was Jimmy. Disappointment rumbled in her belly. An hour later, after she’d rushed through a shower and jumped on the bus, she found him in his shop under a car body. “Hey, Jimmy,” she said, bending to peer under.

  His belly barely clearing the undercarriage, Jimmy rolled out flat on his back on a dolly. He grinned at her, his hands dirty and a streak of grease in his blond hair. “It’s as good as new,” he said. “Keys are on the counter, car’s parked around the corner.” He braced his feet to roll under the car again.

  “Wait. I was wondering if it would be okay to do the installment thing like before.”

  “Your boyfriend took care of that the other day.” He pushed off again, his head disappearing.

  Her stomach started to squirm. She toed his leg. “What do you mean my boyfriend took care of it?”

  Jimmy sighed, and spoke from under the car. “When I told him it’d be between five hundred and seven-fifty depending on how long it took, he said he’d give me the cash up front if I kept it to the five hundred.” Something kachunked under the body. “And you made out, honey, because it took me longer. Still had to finish it up this morning.”

  Walker had paid for the car. Dammit. He hadn’t asked; he’d just done it, pushing his way into her life, making decisions for her. Goddammit. She had an arrangement with Jimmy, and now he’d gotten screwed. She dreaded finding someone else to work on the car, someone who might bilk her, because really, 162

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  what the hell did she know about cars? “I’ll pay you the difference.”

  Jimmy rolled back out. This time grease smeared his cheek, and he stared her down—despite the fact that she was up—with a blue-eyed gaze.

  “Sweetheart, don’t be stupid.”

  “I just—”

  He cut her off. “Me and Walker worked it all out. I gambled and I lost, and I’m cool with it because it wasn’t that much of a difference, and I’d still rather have the money up front. Capiche?”

  “Yeah.” Installments meant he had to wait for his money too long. “But I want you to know I really appreciate that you’ve let me make payments in the past.”

  “Cleo, I’m not getting on your case about paying me over a couple of months. Because you always pay me. I’ve had deadbeats who screw me over royally, like bouncing checks or cutting off a credit card payment. But I still like the money up front, so take the car and give Walker a big kiss, okay?” Then he slid back beneath the car’s underbelly, discussion over. Jimmy had always been sweet to her. Before her mom stopped driving, he’d fashioned a special plastic fitting to go over the gas cap because Ma, with her arthritis, had trouble undoing the factory-installed cap. He’d never quibbled about how Cleo had to pay him off. She’d always trusted him to tell her the truth about the car.

  Yet she didn’t trust Walker once she’d started having sex with him. That was what he’d accused her of the night the car broke down. She’d actually intended to let the tow truck driver take her home, a man she’d never met. She didn’t have a problem with men in general. She had a problem with men she’d had sex with.

  She didn’t like owing them, didn’t like letting them think she needed them, didn’t like giving them any kind of control. Maybe Ma was right, and she was blaming all the men she dated for the bad apples that had fallen into her life. Or maybe she just couldn’t trust her own judgment anymore. Walker had some good traits. He’d saved her money on the car, not just by paying the labor up front, but by finding the part in the first place. He was smart, funny, caring, respectful, generous, well mannered, and sexy as all get-out. He also slept with women for money. Honestly, no matter how much she liked him or how good he was to her, that was pretty much a fatal flaw. How she 163

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  could overlook it?

  But she still owed him five hundred bucks. God help her, despite what she knew was right, she actually wondered how many sexual favors it would take to pay it off.

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  13

  “WHAT DO YOU MEAN, WALKER’S NOT COMING BACK?”

  Cleo groaned inwardly. She and Heidi were crowding Ma’s bathroom. It was just before five. Cleo had to shower, change, and grab a bite to eat before she headed to the restaurant for her Saturday night shift. Heidi had just returned from the sleepover and wanted to go to the movies with Viola, a childhood friend who lived three doors down.

  God, she so did not need an argument with Heidi right now. So Cleo lied. She’d hate herself for that later. “He underestimated the amount of time it would take to do the bathroom, and he decided he can’t make the commitment.”

  Heidi glared. A teenager’s glare could rival that of a rabid dog. “That is bull, Mom, and you know it.”

  She should have reprimanded Heidi for talking back
, but Cleo knew she was in the wrong. “All right. We had a fight. He’s not coming back. End of story.”

  “That’s so not fair, Mom.”

  Life had been hard before Walker; now it was harder after. She’d had one really good week. Didn’t anyone realize that she missed him, too? But she’d made a decision. She had to do what was right. “Heidi, you barely knew him.”

  Thank God it hadn’t been long enough for Heidi to get attached. “You’ll forget all about him in a week.”

  Heidi narrowed her eyes. Okay, wrong thing to say. Cleo just never knew what the right thing was.

  “Why?” Heidi demanded.

  Ma had asked the same thing. Cleo’s excuses were flimsy. The truth was worse. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

  “It was because of me, wasn’t it?”

  What? “You had nothing to do with it.”

  “You just don’t want to tell me.”

  She could only stare dumbfounded at her daughter. “It was about Walker and me, not you.”

  “He said I hung around too much and that I was annoying him, and that’s why he’s not coming back.”

  “Don’t be silly.” Cleo’s heart wrenched, and suddenly she wanted to tell Heidi 165

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  the truth just so she wouldn’t think it was her fault. Where on earth had she gotten such a notion?

  Heidi’s eyes shimmered. “Well, I know that’s why you don’t bring your dates home,” she snapped. “Because you’re ashamed of me, and you think I’ll drive them away.”

  Cleo massaged a temple as she shook her head. “That’s the silliest thing I’ve ever heard. The exact opposite is true. I don’t bring dates home because they’re not worthy of you.”

  “Yeah, right.” Heidi sniffed. “Phil left because of me, and you”—she stabbed her finger at Cleo—“decided it wasn’t worth bringing anyone else home.”

  Good God. Phil had left four years ago. Heidi had cried buckets over him. But Cleo had never told her daughter the things Phil said. Then again, she’d never been specific, and Heidi had made her own assumptions. She’d needed a reason.

  “He just wasn’t in love with me.”

  Heidi pursed her lips and puffed out a breath. “I heard you two fighting.”