Third Wheel

by Lynn Burke

  “Hey.”

  I turned and tried to muster a smile for Christine. “Hey.”

  Her gaze landed on my sandwich and she grimaced.

  I shrugged. “It’s my fav.”

  “Nasty stuff right there.” She grabbed a container out of the fridge and sat beside me. She popped the lid.

  I wrinkled my nose. “Bunny food.”

  Her eyes twinkled. “It’s my fav.”

  Thank God I’d inherited my mother’s fast metabolism and I didn’t have to battle the ten pounds that Christine always complained about lingering on her hips since college.

  “Another letter came in the mail this morning.”

  Coldness seeped over me. “Devon?”

  She nodded and speared some greens. “I opened it and read enough to know it came from him before filing it away with the others. You didn’t want to read it, did you?”

  I shook my head and tried to swallow the sandwich that had turned to dust in my mouth. Devon had somehow learned where I worked and sent a letter to my attention once a month like clockwork. Occasionally, a call transferred to me, the dead silence on the other end letting me know it was him.

  “No,” I managed to whisper. “Same threats?”

  “To hurt you as you hurt him,” Christine murmured. “Good thing he’s behind bars.”

  I nodded, unable to make a squeak out of fear for my daughter.

  “I’m hanging onto it. Just in case.”

  I made a noise of agreement while choking down my sandwich.

  Christine heaved a heavy sigh as if to clear the air and shoved a forkful of salad into her mouth. “So. Any plans tonight?” she asked around a mouth of dressing-free greens.

  I swigged my water for much-needed moisture and cleared my throat, happy to move on. “Disney Jr. and homemade popcorn.”

  “No hot date?”

  I cast a sideways glare her way. “Yeah. Right.”

  She peered at me for a few long seconds while chewing.

  “What?” I finally asked while shoving my empty sandwich baggie into my purse for a rinse out at home and second use.

  “You need to get laid.”

  “Yeah. I’m starting to forget what a penis looks like.”

  “You’ll get a front and center reminder tomorrow night. I bought you an evening with one of the Elite Escorts.”

  My gaze jerked to her face. Green eyes serious as hell, lips slightly turned up… “The whats?”

  “A male escort. A sex slave whose job is to satisfy your every whim and take care of that un-tickled itch you’ve had going on since Skye came along.”

  Heat flooded my face as the words flew from her lips. “Absolutely not. No. Way.”

  “Yes, way. The limo will pick you up tomorrow night at seven.”

  “No.”

  Christine stuffed more bunny food in her mouth. “Yes,” she said around the greens.

  “I don’t have a sitter.”

  She smiled brightly while chewing and swallowing. “Yes, you do. I’ll bring an overnight bag and crash on the couch since you won’t be home until morning.”

  “No,” I said again, my voice firm. “I’m not going out with some … some … man whore.”

  She laughed. “It’s not a date, Jessica. It’s simply a chance to get laid. No strings attached.”

  “I could have done that with any of those guys from that dating site you talked me into.”

  “Maybe.” Her eyes narrowed although the smirk remained on her lips. “But, you deserve so much more. A night on the town being wined and dined by a man who’s sure to know his way around a woman’s body. I even picked out the perfect fantasy man.”

  My blood slowed. “You didn’t.”

  “Oh, I did.” The damn glint appeared in her eyes again. “A tall pretty guy with a hard body cut enough to slice through any woman’s inhibitions.”

  “No.”

  “I already paid. You’re going.” In went another pile of spinach and lettuce as if to say “I’m done with this conversation.”

  Although a butterfly danced low in my belly, I slumped in my chair. If only I had the nerve to tell Christine I’d rather have the cash she blew on my date. The bills piling on my desk at home needed to be paid a hell of a lot more than I needed to get laid.

  Chapter Three

  Reid

  He’s late. Again. I pulled onto the job site, and shaking my head, parked beside the lumber that had been delivered the day before. I cut the engine and sipped my coffee from Dunks, gaze on the road and watching for Blake and his silver F350.

  I’d been working for my best friend’s company, Harper’s Construction, since we graduated from high school. Blake had gotten his bachelor’s in business while I’d toiled away for his father, sweating in the summer and freezing my balls off in the winter. I loved building, though. Lifting walls up, rafters, and the smell of sawdust … nothing like building something with my own two hands and seeing progress from my hard work every day.

  My cell dinged from an incoming text, and I put my coffee in the cup holder.

  Elite: New client booked for tonight. File attached.

  Client? Brow furrowing over the singular, I punched in my password to access the private file Elite’s secretary had sent. Another text came through before I got to read the file.

  Elite: Not your usual, but Jarod had to cancel, and you’re the only other one available who fits the request for tall dark and handsome. Please respond ASAP.

  Sometimes specific requests accompanied reservations with Elite, and while Jarod and I could have passed for brothers with our dark hair and eyes, he always got the single ladies. We’d teamed up a couple of times when a woman wanted to fulfill her threesome fantasy—and paid good money to ensure we left her satisfied and smiling.

  I flicked back to the file. A professional photo came up of a pretty, half-smiling blonde with light-brown eyes. Closer study showed those eyes shuttered off as though keeping anyone and everything at arm’s length.

  She’s been hurt, I thought while skimming down through the request put through to Elite. The client name was listed as Jessica, but the requestor was a name I recognized from years earlier. Christine Gemberling, valedictorian of our high school class, the girl who slept her way through the football team but couldn’t be bothered with us baseball players.

  While I didn’t usually do one-on-ones for Elite, I swiped back up to the pic. Jessica … the name rolled around in my brain as I searched her face for a hint of recognition.

  Nothing.

  Someone banged on my truck window, causing me to jerk my head up.

  “’Sup, Harper?” I asked, putting the window down.

  “Where’s mine?” My best friend and boss asked with a grin, pointing with his chin toward the large Dunks in my cup holder.

  “You make me come into work on a Saturday and expect me to repay you by buying? The hell’s wrong with you?”

  “I didn’t have time to stop.”

  “I don’t want to know why—”

  “Wren jumped into the shower with me, and I lost track of time.”

  “Sure you did.” I pocketed my cell, grabbed my coffee, and pushed open the truck door wide enough Blake had to step back.

  “Didn’t get laid last night?” he asked, shoving his hands in his pockets, a lady-killing smile showing off his perfect teeth.

  “’Course I did.” Blake turned toward the foundation we’d poured the week before, and I followed a step behind, my mind going back to the hurt blonde. “Gunna get some tonight, too.”

  He grinned over his shoulder. “Third wheel job treating you good, huh?”

  “Well enough I don’t need this job for much longer. Swinging a fucking hammer all day is starting to wear my ass out.”

  “If pussy takes my top foreman from me, I’ll kick your ass from here to Foxborough.”

  “Ha.” I sipped my coffee and grinned. “I’d like to see you try.”

  Blake pulled up short and turned, focusing his
gaze on my face. He may have had some height on me, but I outweighed his ass by a good thirty pounds of pure muscle. “You seriously thinking about leaving me?”

  “Fuck, no.” I punched his biceps.

  “Fucker.”

  I grinned and lifted my cup. “That’s what they pay me for.”

  Shaking his head, Blake started off again.

  “Don’t tell me you’re missing your freedom,” I said, thinking of the woman who’d snagged him heart and balls the summer before.

  “Shit, no. Wren is all the woman I’ll ever need for the rest of my life.”

  A twinge of jealousy twisted my gut as it usually did when Blake mentioned his girlfriend. We’d shared more than a handful of women in his free days, but the times had changed. Wren asked if I could join them once or twice a month, and Blake didn’t mind, but our oat-sowing fun had long passed.

  While I pondered futile dreams I’d one day find a woman I could give my undivided attention to, I sure as shit wouldn’t ever let another man touch her. Best friend or no.

  ****

  My old classmate had gone all out in her desire to see her friend Jessica spoiled rotten. Elite gave me the limo for the night, a suite at the Kimball’s favorite hotel downtown, and the go-ahead to enjoy their five-star French restaurant and a good bottle or two of their best wine.

  My ride pulled up in front of an apartment complex forty-five minutes north of Boston, and a quick glance showed me the place was clean—decent. The sun had begun to set, but daffodils and tulips lined the front walkway to the glass double doors, and flowering Nanking cherry bushes hid a couple of AC units with their pink and white blossoms.

  I keyed in the apartment number on the intercom and waited. Rarely did butterflies twinge in my stomach, but for the first time in a long while, I would be on a one-on-one date—not a date—but still. No third wheel to help fill the silent gaps if personalities didn’t click. No buffer to hide behind if a woman’s emotions got too caught up in the heat of passion.

  Christine had requested a night on the town with a tall, dark, and handsome stranger to wine and dine her friend.

  Hurt friend.

  I lifted my hand to buzz again.

  “Yes?” a low, breathy voice twitched my cock at the same time I went to push the intercom button.

  “Reid from Elite Escorts here for Jessica,” I said, surprised to find a slight tremor in my voice. What the fuck? Get a grip.

  “I-I’ll be right down.” The replying, shaky voice let me know I wasn’t the only one nervous about the evening.

  A discrete adjustment of my semi and I stepped back a ways, making plenty of room on the wide stoop. Unless a woman’s body language and eyes begged, I stayed well out of their personal space. Nothing worse than someone getting all up in your wheels when you want three feet.

  Clearing my throat, I smoothed down my suit coat, fingering the top button and making sure it was buttoned properly.

  One-on-one. God, what the hell was I thinking when I agreed to this?

  A flicker of movement through the glass door drew my gaze. Honey-blonde hair swept over bare shoulders … smooth, pale skin…

  My mouth watered as my gaze dipped lower to lush cleavage and curvy hips hugged by a tiny black dress. Bare legs and high heels … screw the three feet.

  I stepped forward to open the door, my head lifting. Her pale brown eyes drew me in, the wariness and exhaustion pouring from her like wet cement from a flute. My chest ached for her—a woman I didn’t know beyond her first name.

  “Jessica?” I asked, our eyes locked on each other.

  “Yes.” She attempted to tug on a sweater while fumbling with her purse.

  “Allow me,” I said, moving closer to help her. The warmth of her skin radiated as I held her sweater in place, tempting my fingers to lift her hair out of the way. Instead, I stepped back while she tugged the sweater tight and clutched her purse in front of her.

  “Reid Sullivan.” I offered my hand.

  She stared. Took her a few seconds, but she released her hold on the purse and slid her cool hand into mine.

  I went from semi to steel with one breath at the feel of her soft skin against my callused palms. I lifted our clasped hands and kissed her knuckles.

  A small smile took over her lips, easing the wariness in her steady gaze.

  Hurt but not insecure or timid. That, I can handle. Perhaps our ‘date’ wouldn’t be so bad after all.

  “Shall we?” I asked, moving to her side and tucking her hand into the crook of my arm.

  Chapter Four

  Jessica

  Shall we? You’re already bought and paid for, I thought about reminding my man whore for the night as he tucked my hand against his arm. My nasty attitude had bubbled out at Christine more than once since she’d shown up earlier to babysit, but I reminded myself not to be unkind to the escort beside me.

  I glanced back at my second-floor apartment window. Christine gave me two thumbs up and a wide grin.

  I stole a glance up at Reid as I turned forward once more. Tall, dark, and handsome didn’t begin to describe the slab of man beef beside me. He towered over my five-feet, five-inch frame. The suit didn’t hide his lumberjack shoulders, but it tapered nicely to show his trim waist. I knew what lay beneath—Christine had made sure to show me the pics of Reid on Elite’s website. Reid, not Jarod, the escort she’d originally picked out for me. Mr. Pretty Boy had been more to her liking than mine, anyway.

  They’d had to switch men due to personal reasons, and Christine hadn’t hesitated to agree. I’d have been perfectly content with giving up the idea altogether, but upon seeing Reid’s profile, I’d decided otherwise.

  Fresh-shaven, he still sported a dark shadow on his jaw. Hair a little too long, unstyled and carefree … and his almost black eyes, twinkling like the stars I wished on at night.

  Hotter than an early August day at noon on the beach. Playful, his eyes promised. Gentle, his touch had assured me. Soft lips against my knuckles … my knees had weakened as warmth flooded through me. And the woodsy cologne with a hint of vanilla? My mouth turned into salivation central.

  “Nervous?” he asked, squeezing my fingers against the crook of his elbow.

  Honesty is always the best policy. My mom’s voice echoed in my head. Not that I disagreed. My honesty had caused more than one fight with Devon. “Yes.”

  “Me, too.”

  “Yeah.” I huffed a snort. “Okay.”

  “Honest to God.” I felt his gaze on my head as we drew near the limo. A paid escort, full of shit, saying whatever he felt I needed to hear in order to fulfill my every desire for the evening.

  I smiled at the driver as he opened the limo’s back door.

  “Ma’am.” He nodded in greeting.

  “Thank you.” I climbed into the limo as best I could without baring my ass and thong to the world.

  Christine had shown up with the dress and undergarments. Early birthday presents, she’d said. I’d ended up tugging off the old skirt and outdated top I’d selected for the night—the clothing she’d frowned at—and poured myself into the tight thing she called a designer dress.

  I’d felt like a million after seeing myself in the full-length, though.

  She’d added more eyeliner and shadow than I felt comfortable with, but she’d smudged here and there, dabbed on some blush, and laid on the red lipstick, telling me to shut up and deal.

  “So.” Reid settled beside me, his presence, heavenly scent, and aura of confidence filling the too-small space. Rather than feel intimidated or uncomfortable, though, my body actually melted into the leather seat, my breath emptying my lungs on a deep sigh.

  “I think a night out is just what the doc ordered,” Reid said, his deep voice standing the hairs on my nape on end. Dark and merry eyes studied my face.

  I raised a brow, trying to stifle my attraction to the fine specimen of man too close to my side. “I want you to know, my friend put me up to this. Never in a million years wou
ld I blow money on a—” I snapped my jaw shut as heat flooded my face. Damn run away mouth.

  “Go ahead.” He smirked. “Say it.”

  “Fine.” Chin lifting, I met his gaze, unwavering. “Man whore.”

  “Ouch.” He slapped a hand to his chest.

  What a way to begin the evening. Me and my big mouth, spewing out thoughts without a thought. It happened too often, when I felt comfortable with a person … I spilled. Might as well lay it all out there. “I have no intention of sleeping with you.”

  “Fine by me.” The corner of his lips twitched again, and my PMS-ing emotional inner bitch wanted to read into his meaning.

  Wasn’t I pretty enough for him to get it up? Did I look like a lousy lay? Devon had said it often enough I heard his words ringing in my ears. “Glad we got that cleared up,” I snapped, jerking my attention to the window and the setting sun.

  Silence settled over us, but without discomfort. Devon’s angry words continued to play through my mind, and I found my eyes filling with tears. I was dressed to kill—or so I’d thought—with a sure lay, a paid-for date, and all I could think about was my ex.

  “Who was he?” Reid’s soft voice pulled me from my thoughts.

  “Who was who?” I asked, turning to peer up at his serious face.

  “The one who put the haunted hurt in your eyes.”

  “Ouch,” I copied his word, lifting a hand to my chest.

  Reid’s gaze didn’t waver. “Beautiful doe-like, whiskey-colored eyes. Far from unattractive.” He ran the back of his finger down my cheek. “Intriguing, actually.”

  I found myself wanting to lean into his touch as though the soft caress of his hand could soothe away every hurt Devon had inflicted on my mind and emotions.

  “Tell me,” Reid said again, lacing his fingers through mine.

  “I thought you were supposed to show me a good time tonight.” I tried and failed to keep the bitterness from my tone. The poor man didn’t deserve to reap what Devon had sown.

  “I’m a great listener.” His smile melted a little of the ice that encased my heart. “Hell”—he all-out grinned—“I’m a handy man to have in your back pocket if the time for revenge ever comes knockin’. I’ll give you my card just in case.”