A Good Man

by Rosanna Leo

  Maybe having him sleep over wasn’t such a good idea.

  No. The poor man looked exhausted. How much trouble could they get up to, anyway?

  As they exited the Bamboo Gigolo, she grabbed Michael’s hand. So he wouldn’t fall down, of course. Either his thumb had a mind of its own, or he was determined to stroke the sensitive skin between her thumb and forefinger. The caress, so slow and seductive, felt as intimate as a touch between the thighs.

  “I know why you’re doing this.” Michael turned to her once they were outside the club. “You just want to have your wicked way with me while I’m incapacitated. I’ll just let you know now I’m completely on board with your plan.”

  “If you weren’t on the verge of collapse, I’d knock you down. Presumptuous man.”

  “Ah, admit it, Em. You think I’m cute.”

  “I think you’re trouble.”

  He slid into the passenger side of Chris’ car, a shit-disturbing smirk on his sallow face. “Sweetheart, I think I’m just the sort of trouble you’ve been looking for.”

  Emily did her best to keep her hands steady as she stuck the key in the ignition, but the keys jingled, as if declaring her lust to the whole world.

  Chapter Thirteen

  “I think you should get a second opinion.” Emily piled a second blanket on Michael as he sat on her loveseat. “Didn’t they run any tests at the hospital?”

  “Blood work. That’s it.” He set the blankets to the side. One more blanket and he would drown in flannel. “I’m not cold, Em.”

  She touched his forehead for the third time since they’d gotten to her condo. “You feel a little cold to me. How about a heating pad?”

  Maybe he felt a slight chill, but all the heating pads and pillows and blankets in the world wouldn’t change the fact all he really needed was to sink into the warmth of her sweet body. “I don’t need a heating pad. Stop fussing. I’m really fine.”

  “I can’t believe they didn’t find anything wrong with you.”

  “Would you prefer something was wrong with me?”

  “No, of course not, but you almost collapsed.”

  “I’m better now. I promise. If you keep worrying, you’ll make yourself sick.”

  “But the consultation barely lasted minutes. They rushed you. I’m convinced of it.” She narrowed her eyes. “You did tell them everything, right? I hope you didn’t leave out any details of your symptoms that might help the doctor make a diagnosis.”

  He may have glossed over one or two details, but he hardly believed the Emergency Room doctor needed to know what he’d eaten for breakfast last week and whether he’d had all his childhood vaccinations. “The doctor did what he needed to do and couldn’t find anything wrong with me. I’m as strong as an ox.”

  Michael couldn’t deny it felt good to spy the concern in Emily’s green eyes, although he didn’t like seeing her fret. It was nice to know she cared enough to keep him company through the night, even if he didn’t need it.

  He just wished he hadn’t given her a reason to worry. The flashbacks and headaches had always been upsetting, but never bad enough to distract him from work or play. Since Lacey had told him of the network’s plan to persuade the daycare families to appear on Handymen, however, his pulse had begun to race. The letter from the Toronto Police Service had exacerbated his sense of helplessness. The aura of foreboding that always hung in the distance seemed to be closing in on him.

  “At least you seem better now. I can make you a chamomile tea or some chicken soup. I am the soup lady, after all. At any given time, I have ten soups ready to go.”

  “Sit down, Em. If I decide I need soup, you’ll be the first to know.”

  She sat opposite him in one of her grandmother’s Queen Anne chairs. “Okay. I’ll stop fussing. You have color in your cheeks again.”

  “I feel ridiculous. I can’t believe I spaced out in front of everyone. I’ve never done that.”

  “Your brothers are worried.”

  “They don’t need to worry.”

  “Okay then. I’m worried.”

  Her comment lit the fuse on the cannons of his heart. Somewhere deep inside him, a twenty-one-gun salute began to hiss and explode. “Please, don’t. I wish I’d been able to show you a good time tonight. I feel badly you didn’t get to stay for the whole gig. I wanted to cheer you up and I’ve only managed to bring you down.”

  “I’m fine, and for the record, I loved what I heard. In fact, Comfortably Numb is one of my favorite songs.”

  “Really? I wouldn’t have pegged you as a Pink Floyd lover.”

  “I am, but I blush to admit the reason why.”

  “That sounds like a good story. Spill.”

  “It’s so late, Michael. You need to get to bed.”

  Yeah. With you. “I’m too wound up to sleep. Tell me your story.”

  “Okay. The first time I heard Comfortably Numb was at a house party when I was in high school. When that song blared over the stereo, I was in the middle of a fairly steamy kissing session with David Kingston.”

  “David Kingston?”

  “I had a crush on the boy for two years. He thought I was a flake, but on that night, I’d had a bit to drink. It made me bold and I asked him to kiss me, which he did with enthusiasm.”

  “He must have liked you too.”

  “Nah. I was just willing and available and he was full of testosterone. Still, for me it was memorable, and ever since, I’ve been a Floyd fan.”

  “You naughty girl. David Kingston’s a lucky man.”

  “Oh, yeah. We became an item that night, but he broke up with me a week later when he got a better offer. I’m sure he has no idea the broken heart he left behind. Every time I hear Pink Floyd, I think of David’s tongue.”

  “You do realize I’ll never be able to perform the song again, right? Because now I’m thinking of his tongue.” When she laughed out loud, Michael felt as bold as the teenage Emily at that house party. “I might need to taste another tongue to forget it.”

  As she swallowed, momentarily speechless, her throat moved in a delicate dance. Was he making her squirm? Good. She’d made him squirm too.

  It would be a whole lot better if they could squirm together.

  “Where did you learn to sing and play guitar?”

  He tried not to groan when she changed the subject. “Our mom is a music teacher. She plays a few instruments herself, everything from piano to trumpet. She taught us everything we know. Except for Nick. She didn’t teach percussion, so he had his own instructor for that.”

  “That’s amazing. You must have had music in your house all the time.”

  “We had a loud house. If we weren’t wailing on our instruments, we were hammering things into the walls.”

  “Your poor dad.”

  “Are you kidding? He was the loudest of all. We get the handyman skills from him. He’s a master carpenter.”

  “I think it’s wonderful they passed their skills on to the three of you. It sounds as if there was a lot of love in your home.”

  “We were lucky that way. What about your family? I already know about Nonna Olivia, but what about your parents?”

  “Oh, them. They’ve been bickering. To be honest, I think my mom is ready to walk out on my dad.”

  “Really? I’m sorry.”

  “I know couples get into routines and my dad takes her for granted. He’s a homebody and doesn’t understand why she isn’t content to sit on the couch with him all the time. Mom said she wants to make the most of her life before she dies. Now that my grandmother’s gone, my mother can’t stop thinking of her impending doom. I’m sure her frustration with my dad stems from grief.”

  “I don’t think it’s just grief.”

  “No?”

  “I mean, clearly, your grandmother was well-loved, but your mother’s right. Like you said, couples get into ruts. I wouldn’t want to spend my life feeling unappreciated either. Sometimes you need to make an effort. A man should cherish h
is woman. She should know, beyond a doubt, she’s the most important thing in his world.”

  He’d struck a chord. Her eyes glimmered with tears but she blinked them back. “Are we still talking about my mother?”

  Michael tossed a couple of pillows onto the floor and patted the loveseat next to him. “Sit with me, Em.”

  She crossed her legs. “I think it might be better if I stay over here.”

  “Why? Because you don’t trust yourself with me?”

  She didn’t say anything for a while, but when she did, her voice was so hushed, he barely heard her.

  “Say that again. Louder this time.”

  “I said it’s true. I don’t trust myself with you.”

  His heart pounding, Michael stood and walked over to her. Please, God, don’t let me collapse now. Standing before her, he tipped up her chin. “You’re smart. You shouldn’t.”

  He pulled her into a standing position and claimed her mouth. Velvet soft and sweet, she tasted better than any dessert he’d ever enjoyed. Her mouth seemed made to mold against his. He moaned and dug his hands into her hair, excited to finally be able to play with the short strands. He expected Emily to push back, but she surprised him, opening when he slid his tongue against her lips. When their tongues met, she sighed. It was the greatest sound he’d ever heard. Better than hearing Pink Floyd live. Better than Pink Floyd showing up at his door, begging him to jam with them.

  It was the fucking best.

  Michael danced his hands down her back toward her tempting ass.

  Someone knocked on her unit door. As if scripted for some cheesy sitcom, they ended their kiss and stared at one another. Both he and Emily exhaled loudly at the same time.

  “I’d better get that.”

  “Who’d knock on your door this late?”

  She stood and slid away from Michael, leaving his body in a state of bereft need. “Probably Chris. He must want his car back.”

  “No offense, but do everything you can to make him go away.”

  A bashful smile lit up her face. “I’ll do my best.”

  Maybe this evening held some promise after all. Maybe he wouldn’t be forced to remember it solely for freaking out on stage.

  The person at the door banged on it again. Jesus Christ. Talk about impatient.

  Just as Michael was about to remind her to check the peephole, she swung open the door. “Couldn’t it wait until morning?”

  Trent Andrews stood there, a hangdog expression decorating his mug. “Hi, Em.”

  Michael stepped forward, squaring his shoulders, claiming the space and the woman who lived there.

  Trent’s gaze flitted between him and Emily. “It didn’t take you long.”

  Michael chose not to reply. He didn’t answer to any man, especially not that one.

  Trent’s low chuckles held no amusement. “It figures. You know, Zorn, I thought you might actually have enough decency to give Emily five minutes to breathe before you wrapped your tentacles around her and dragged her under.”

  Michael draped a possessive arm around her waist. He didn’t care what anyone thought anymore.

  “What do you want, Trent?” asked Emily. “It’s way too late for a social call.”

  “I realize that, but I couldn’t sleep. Honestly, I haven’t been sleeping well for a while. I was hoping we could talk, hopefully without the handyman present.”

  “His name is Michael.”

  “Socializing with the help, Emily?”

  “The help, huh?” Michael laughed. “You know that says more about you than it does about me.”

  Trent ignored him. “Why is he here at this time of night, Em?”

  “I don’t think I owe you any explanations. We’re not together anymore.”

  He moved inside the door, toward her. “Yeah, I know, but I’d like to change that. I don’t think we should let a…hiccup get in our way.”

  “You slept with another woman. Repeatedly. I don’t call that a hiccup.”

  “And what’s this then?” He waved at her and Michael. “Revenge sex? That’s beneath you.”

  “Screw you. Your opinion stopped meaning anything to me the moment you removed Veronica’s bra.”

  Trent passed a hand over his face. “You know I’d never do anything to hurt you intentionally. Things have been hard. I wasn’t in a good place when Ronnie came on to me. I was weak. I think, in a way, the affair was a cry for help. I think I was just trying to get a reaction.”

  “You got one, Master Chef,” muttered Michael.

  “Seriously.” Trent stared hard at the rug, clearly trying to focus his thoughts. “Does this loser need to be here?”

  “Loser?” Emily’s voice went up an octave. “I can’t believe you. I thought maybe you’d learned some humility, but that lesson seems to have slipped out of your grasp once again.”

  “I’m making a mess of this,” said Trent. “Just like I make a mess out of everything. I had this whole conversation planned out in my head, but it was a lot nicer when I didn’t know I’d run into Zorn here.” He took a deep breath. “Em, please. I just want to talk. I’ve been doing a lot of soul-searching and I don’t like what I’ve seen. I’ve been a jerk. No, worse than a jerk. I want to make amends but I’m not sure where to start.”

  Emily didn’t respond, so Michael rested a hand on her hip, another clear signal to Trent and a show of support for her. He knew she worried about Trent’s job situation. They had history. In his experience, it wasn’t always easy leaving history in the past.

  “I found a job, a good one.”

  “I’m happy for you.” Her voice was quiet and small.

  “I want to show you things have changed, that you can be proud of me.”

  “Where will you be working?”

  “At Zen, that cool fusion place on King. They just hired a new executive chef from Japan. I convinced him to let me show him what I can do. He liked it enough that he overlooked certain lapses in my work history. I won’t be chef de cuisine, but I’ll be sous-chef. I’ve resisted picking up sous-chef work up until now because I thought I was too good for it, but I realized I might have to lower my standards to get back in the game. This has all been humbling for me, but I can work my way up again in no time.”

  “I’m sure you will.”

  As much as Michael wanted to rejoice in Emily’s unenthusiastic reaction, he couldn’t. She sounded broken and her body was tense under his hand. He didn’t trust Trent’s show of redemption and humility, not by a long shot. It was likely just a way to sucker her back in again. Michael wouldn’t allow it.

  “I can make a good life for you, Em,” continued Trent. “I can begin to repay you for supporting us.”

  “I never wanted reimbursement. I just wanted the old Trent back.”

  “He’s here. I’m here. I swear I never went away. I just got lost for a while.”

  This conversation was starting to piss Michael off. Men like Trent might talk a good talk, but they never changed. He might like to think his new cooking job would cure all his problems, but what would happen the next time life kicked him in the nuts? Would he find a new Veronica? Worse still, could he ever be driven to take out his frustration on Emily the way Henry Ashton did on Jane? It might seem implausible, but stranger things had happened.

  “Please give me a chance to show you how sorry I am. That’s all I ask.”

  “Look, Trent.” She looked him in the eye. “Congratulations on the job. I hope you’re happy. I mean it.”

  Trent shot a look at Michael. If the man had a microphone, he would have dropped it.

  “Unfortunately, it doesn’t change anything. You cheated on me—not once, but many times. You didn’t take responsibility, not even after I caught you. And the worst part was how you made me feel like a fool the whole time. Do you honestly think I have such low self-esteem that I would run back to you just because you’ve added another line to your resume?”

  “I can make things better. I can show you…”


  “It’s no use.” She held up a hand. “You’ve shown me everything I need to see. You’re not the only one who’s been soul-searching lately. I will never go back to a man who makes me feel like less of a woman.”

  “But—”

  “You made me doubt myself. You made me feel like I was all alone in the world. I will never trust my heart to a man who leaves me in the dark. You shut me out and ridiculed me. Now I’m comfortable being on the outside, looking in at you. I see everything now and I agree with what you said earlier. I don’t like what I see.”

  That’s my girl. It was all Michael could do not to shout it from the rafters. He restrained himself and dropped a kiss onto her head instead. He didn’t think he’d ever been so proud of anyone before.

  Sure enough, Trent’s lip curled. “You’re just loving this, aren’t you, Zorn?”

  “Did you even hear me?” asked Emily. “I pour my heart out to you and you make this a pissing contest. Unbelievable.”

  Trent reached into his pants pocket and pulled out something shiny, holding it out for her. “I brought your ring. I swear, Em, if you put it on again, I will never disappoint you again. I’ll make you forget this all happened.”

  “No. I don’t want to forget it happened.”

  “Come on, Em. Put it back on and tell Zorn to take a hike.”

  Trent smiled, but Michael doubted Emily experienced any comfort from it. His smile had bite, like a cold zipper on warm skin.

  Emily sighed. “I don’t want your ring and I don’t want you. In fact, I can’t remember why I ever wanted you.”

  Trent glared at them for a moment and shoved the ring into his pocket. “Just answer me this, then.” He nodded toward Michael. “How long have you been fucking him?”

  “You’ve said enough.” Michael moved to show him the door, but Emily held him back.

  “No, Michael.” She turned to her ex. “Trent, fuck you for suggesting it. Get the hell out. I don’t ever want to see you again.”