Easy Ride

by Suzanne Ruby

  As Kirby struggled to stop the pendulum on convinced, someone cleared his throat behind them. It was enough to jolt some sense into apparently both of them, as they broke away from the kiss at the same time and turned to look.

  Fabian.

  Easy Ride shook his head and flashed the fingers of one hand. Twice. Indicating ten more minutes of privacy, she assumed. He turned back to her.

  Once again, she had his baby blues’ full attention. Had she really been making out with this unbelievably sexy man? One who’d made the first move, and was giving his affection at no charge?

  Maybe these guys operated like crack dealers. Give the customer a free taste and get ’em hooked. Maybe she definitely needed what he was offering.

  “You’re really not charging me for the kissing time? I thought you were joking.”

  “I wouldn’t joke about something like that.” He leaned in to kiss her again, resuming the tender urgency they’d generated before the interruption.

  As if Kirby was no longer in control of her own body, she leaned back and guided him to more of a full-frontal connection.

  He accepted her lead. In fact, they seemed to have the same idea as they repositioned themselves on the sofa. Her underneath. Him on top. By the time he pressed into her, he was rock-hard.

  Her private gratefulness momentarily took her breath away.

  Pure desire took over from there as he nudged her thighs apart and situated himself between them while continuing to kiss her. The friction against the inseam of her jeans rubbed her in the most delicious way, and with exactly the right amount of tension.

  All the while, an instrumental lounge version of George Strait’s “Baby Blue” serenaded the edge of her consciousness.

  The slow, confident movement of his hips combined with the softness of his mouth had her mind so twisted and stirred and shaken that she barely noticed his hands reaching underneath and cupping her behind.

  He moved her hips for her, pulling her into his deeper thrusts with a slow, smooth, effortless rhythm. The angle and intensity took her all the way.

  The pent-up tension and the subsequent release in full were almost more than she could handle, yet she somehow managed to hold in the heaviest groan. It had been so long. So long since she’d wanted a man and felt this wanted in return.

  With the final deep thrust against her, he softly moaned, “Oh, baby.”

  Her mind began to clear as he finished. Unfortunately, her clear mind always invited the most unwanted of thoughts. Now, her thoughts insisted this gorgeous man would ultimately reject her, as her ex-husband had done, even though she wasn’t here for personal reasons. Or, at least, she wasn’t supposed to be.

  Combine business and pleasure? Live in the moment? Those luxuries were for other people. Her choices had always been entwined with consequences.

  Consequences. So many of them in this particular situation.

  What have I done?

  * * *

  WHAT THE HELL am I doing?

  That was the first thought to cross Adam’s mind, once the blood rushed back to his brain. It was as if he had no self-control around this one. As in, zero.

  One thing was for sure, he couldn’t accept her money. Any of it. Hopefully, she wouldn’t insist he take it. If she did, her intentions would be clear.

  Awkward. The whole damn thing was awkward.

  After they both eased back to the upright position, he put his arm around her shoulder and kissed her on top of her gloriously mussed-up hair. If he wasn’t mistaken, she sharply inhaled, as if the casual familiarity were somehow inappropriate.

  “Next time, I won’t initiate,” he said, hoping to drive home that his intention had not been to ravage her. “You’re just so fucking gorgeous, I couldn’t hold back.”

  Her reluctance softened, and she embraced him in return.

  “It felt good. I mean, really good,” she said. “Thank you.”

  He relinquished his embrace when she stretched forward to retrieve her purse.

  “Did I call you baby?” he asked, because in the heat of it all, he couldn’t be sure.

  “Yeah. You did.”

  “Sorry. In my defense, I don’t know your name. Somehow 181 didn’t feel right.”

  Her hand welcomed his as they stood and walked to the exit, which was a relief. Some of the women simply charged out the door with a satisfied grin.

  The other guys were more than okay with that outcome. Even though Adam still felt bitter as hell about what had happened with Liv, he never liked to end an intimate encounter in such a crass way. Not even when it merely imitated the real thing.

  Once outside, he pulled her a little closer, creating as private a goodbye as he could. After all, this might be the last time he ever saw her.

  “I’m glad you were satisfied with the service. Be sure to fill out the online customer satisfaction survey at your earliest convenience.” Might as well add some levity to the situation. The worst thing that could happen would be his humor falling flat.

  “I thought you kissed me, and everything else, because you wanted to. But I’ll give you high marks on the survey anyway.”

  He gulped. Hard. Part of him wanted that type of response. The other part didn’t want the confusion of it. But he needed it, and it felt damn good to admit it. If only to himself.

  Did he have the right to ask her to come back? Or, better yet, go on a proper date?

  A chuckle rose in his throat at the absurdity of it. Why the hell would she want to go out with a guy who worked here? Who—she must have thought—does this sort of thing with other women? And for money.

  She must have picked up on his thoughts because she backed away.

  “I need to get home,” she said, her eyes diverting from his in favor of the valet, who had pulled her car around.

  “Call me if you encounter any problems along the way. Flat tire, that sort of thing.”

  It was an impulsive and potentially brilliant demand. And entirely true. Even though women could take care of themselves, he hated the idea of her out alone at night.

  “I don’t have your number,” she said.

  Adam sprinted to the valet to borrow a pen, then sprinted back. He turned her hand over and jotted his cell number into her palm.

  “So you change flat tires?” she asked.

  “One of my little-known talents.”

  “Perhaps you should have a business card. Something like ‘mends flat tires and broken hearts.’”

  A sense of humor, too. That made her a triple threat. Gorgeous, smart and funny.

  As she drove away, he had the most selfish thought imaginable.

  Please, let her get a flat.

  * * *

  “SHOULD I CALL HAZMAT?” Fabian asked.

  Had the guy really been standing by the back door the entire time?

  “Very funny, Fab. Issue her a refund.”

  Adam sidestepped his supposed best friend and walked back inside, toward the den of iniquity.

  The refund request implied an admission, but no way he’d take her money. Sure, they hadn’t broken the cardinal rule. But he’d initiated something and violated his own rule in the process.

  How did the other guys live with themselves, letting their clients pay for their sessions after the line was crossed? Collecting their fat commission for what could barely be considered work? And when they care nothing about these women?

  They do perfectly fine. More than fine, actually. They drove Porsches, rather than a beat-up Jeep.

  He’d been one bad decision away from buying a Porsche himself, until the false accusation from a client at his former job convinced him not to blow what little savings he had. The worst part of it wasn’t the car. It was how his boss didn’t believe his side of the story, even after
their years of friendship and mutual professional respect.

  “Asshole,” he muttered under his breath just as he bumped shoulders with one of the other guys.

  “Who are you callin’ an asshole, Ride? Watch where you’re goin’.”

  “Sorry, man. I was talking to myself.”

  “Sounds boring,” the guy countered.

  Asshole.

  Once in the men’s room, he splashed cold water on his face. He hadn’t lost this kind of control, fully clothed, with a woman since he was sixteen.

  He yanked a paper towel from the dispenser and patted his skin dry. Didn’t even hear anyone come in.

  “Please tell me you used protection,” Fabian said as he proceeded to toss some half-full glasses of red wine down the sink.

  “Of course. Wouldn’t want my client to catch any of my multiple STDs, would I?”

  “Or for you to catch one.”

  Adam struggled to not rise to her defense, even though the two of them hadn’t ventured anywhere near such a delicate topic.

  “Can we change the subject, please? Do I have anyone else on the books tonight? I’d like to get out of here,” Adam said.

  “Nope.”

  “How about tomorrow night?”

  “Last time I checked you were booked solid. Good thing you asked for Saturday off. You’re going to need the rest.”

  “Is she on the books?”

  “She? You mean 181? Nope.”

  “‘Nope’? You are an exceptional linguist.”

  “And a cunning one, too. At least, that’s what the ladies tell me. It’s all in the tongue.”

  With a half smile, Adam said, “I’ll take your word for it. Now, give it up, Fab.”

  Fabian kept his head down. Kept busy swirling soap and water around in the glasses and dodging the demand in the process.

  “Well?” Adam asked.

  “I don’t know what you mean.”

  “Her name.”

  “That’s confidential. I could lose my job. But I do have a question.”

  “You have a question, but you won’t answer mine? Asshole.”

  Fabian made a show of clearing his throat and said, “Ever been to the Armadillo Palace?”

  “You already know the answer. We’ve been there together.”

  “What street is it on? I can’t remember.”

  “Kirby.”

  Fabian smiled. “Yes. You are correct.”

  Kirby. Adam had to smile, as well.

  He grabbed his cell from the counter and the thing practically vibrated right out of his hand. His heartbeat kicked up a notch or three at the possibility it was her.

  Although the area code was in Houston, the number wasn’t familiar.

  He stepped into the hallway.

  “Adam here.” Not that Kirby would know his first name, but he wouldn’t mind if she did.

  “Hey, Adam. It’s Bernard.”

  Adam’s chest constricted at the sound of his attorney’s voice.

  “Why do I have a feeling this is bad news,” he said.

  “It isn’t the worst news, but I didn’t want to wait until morning.”

  “Burning the midnight oil at home? How much is that going to cost me?”

  “I told you not to worry about costs. I’ll draw my compensation from the countersuit we win.”

  “Oh, yeah? Whom am I suing, and for what?”

  “Defamation. Now, don’t get upset, but I saw a rather damning statement your ex-boss recently made, in print, about you.”

  Flames of rage shot up Adam’s spine at the prospect.

  “Is that a fact? What does it say?”

  “He claims some Hermès saddles went missing around the time you were dismissed. Looks like he’s setting the stage for something.”

  3

  KIRBY RESTED HER head on her desk for a measly ten seconds before a hard double-knock jolted her from her borderline-REM state. She didn’t have to look up to know it was Seth Wainright.

  “No, I didn’t get the story. Yet,” she called out from her slump. Against her better judgment, she looked up anyway.

  Seth leaned in, and for a moment she was afraid he’d wobble over and crush her.

  “Too bad. I was looking forward to the video. But, hey, we don’t all get lucky the first time,” he said. The words were ushered out by the fumes of coffee and onions.

  She sat up straight, and not only to find some fresh air.

  The video. She’d stayed up late, watching the dark, grainy footage over and over again. The only thing she’d noticed was how she’d totally lost control. They both had. The video couldn’t be used as evidence against the club, but it reminded her of how good it felt to experience such intimacy. In any case, she had no intention of sharing the footage with anyone. Especially not Seth.

  “I’m going back in tonight,” she said without embellishment.

  It wasn’t a complete lie. She hadn’t booked anything. But her neck ached to be massaged, her body hurt to be held, her mouth burned to be kissed. It was as if she’d caught the flu, and the best medicine would only make matters worse.

  Seth lingered. And he wasn’t the lingering type.

  “What’s it like in there?” he asked.

  “Surprisingly classy. Gorgeous, partially undressed men.”

  “Private rooms?”

  “Lots of rooms, but I wasn’t in a private one.”

  “Book one. Tonight. Force a confession. Or, in this case, seduce one out of him. That’s what I’d do,” he whispered, then wobbled away.

  Although she couldn’t visualize anyone being seduced by Seth, he was right about one thing. Time to put on her big-girl panties. Just be ready and willing to take them off, according to Seth.

  Not that the station condoned “going all the way” to get the story, but they didn’t outright discourage it, either.

  Kirby logged in to the private portal. Unfortunately, Easy Ride was booked tonight. No slots available tomorrow night, either. Which meant he’d be with other women, likely doing to them what he’d done to her.

  The thought slammed into her unexpectedly. No way should she be jealous. Yet, she couldn’t stop thinking about how a total stranger could feel so good and so right. Even if it was only so “right now.”

  The phone rang, yanking her out of her messed-up thoughts.

  “Montgomery here,” she answered.

  “I got a lead on a stray Dumpster diver near Hobby Airport. Can you help?”

  “Good morning, Reese. Of course I’ll help, but calling me with this information is only going to distract me from work until I can get away.”

  “All part of my evil plan. Can you get away now?”

  Kirby weighed the situation. In times like these, she wished she was unemployed and independently wealthy, like her best friend, Reese, and could scour the city for animals in need of rescuing. Talk about the ultimate dream job.

  “I might be able to arrange something. Have you already lined up a foster?” Kirby asked.

  “No. But don’t worry. I’ll foster until I can find someone.”

  Kirby exhaled a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. The easy part was catching an animal. The harder part was placing him or her in a loving home. And the absolute worst part was saying goodbye, once a home was found. That was how she’d recently ended up with a rescue cat. At her house, foster home had turned into forever home.

  “How far away?

  “South of Broadway, living behind the Dumpsters at some rather seedy apartments. I tried to execute a solo rescue earlier this morning, but I couldn’t get close.”

  “No chance the owner lives in the complex?”

  “If that’s the case, the puppy needs rescu
ing more than ever. Very thin and dirty.”

  “I’ll take an early lunch. Pick me up at ten thirty,” Kirby said. She wasn’t going to get any further on The Deep story this afternoon. Might as well be distracted for a worthy cause.

  “Great. I’ll wait up front.”

  Kirby replaced the receiver and referred back to the website. As she clicked through the photos, someone approached from behind.

  She recognized the fumes.

  “Which one is yours?” Seth asked. “Please tell me it’s Gentleman John. Ha! Gotta love it.”

  Seth launched into his obnoxious laugh, which always had a delayed effect. Like a time bomb with a long fuse.

  Today, it was more like a stink bomb.

  As soon as Kirby clicked on Easy Ride and his buff upper body filled the screen, the laughing ceased.

  Seth leaned in closer.

  Kirby held her breath.

  “What’s his name?” he asked.

  “They don’t give out names.”

  “Find out. Or I will.”

  Strange. Something had piqued his curiosity, and it likely wasn’t Easy Ride’s abundance of chiseled muscles.

  “You seem awfully interested. Why?” she asked.

  “Only trying to help. In fact, the offer still stands to trade stories. The oil-and-gas lead is a sure thing. I’d hate to see you blow your only chance with Bettencourt after you waited so long.”

  Even though she doubted Seth’s concern for her professional well-being, he wasn’t simply blowing smoke. Their news director had earned the nickname “one-chance Charlie” for good reason. He gave reporter wannabes who worked at the station a shot to be on the air. A single shot. This was hers.

  “Why are you so interested in The Deep?” Seth asked. “Aside from getting to hang out at the beefcake buffet. A story like this will cast your reputation in stone. Goodbye, good girl.”

  “Oddly enough, you just answered your own question.”

  Seth raised one bushy brow and gave her a nod of approval. He only related to people who got down in the mud. No doubt her willingness to chase this particular lead earned his reluctant respect.