Read Online The Proviso by Moriah Jovan - Free Book Online Page B

school. And
I sure as hell wasn’t interested in playing house with a
twenty-year-old who was in love with someone else anyway.”
    “Did that bother you?”
    “Of course not. I’m an opportunist.”
    “Was. Talk about my celibacy being
unnatural.”
    “Okay, so that makes me more pathetic than
you are. What am I missing, Giz? I’m not hideous. I’m
semi-literate. I have a fairly decent job and I can pay my
bills.”
    She pursed her lips. “For you, it’s all about the
clothes. You go around in your cutoff jeans seven-eighths nekkid,
strutting around like a Parisian peacock without a dime to your
name, you’re relaxed, funny, having a good time. It rains women. I’ve seen you break out that freight train mojo, French
accent optional, and damn, it works like a charm—and it would get
any other man thrown in jail for assault. So you pick one or two,
fuck ’em, send ’em home, and everybody had a good time.
    “But then you put on a suit or a tux, you turn into
cool King Midas and everything is Serious. Business. You don’t
smile or laugh. You rarely speak. You’re totally unapproachable.
The minute you put on that black suit—you need to find another
color, by the way—women become the enemy and Versace is your suit
of armor.”
    “Giz, that’s not fair. I never wear Versace.”
    “You need to find some way to mix the King Midas
with the Freight Train, some workable concoction of your multiple
personalities. Oh, I know. Buy some khakis.”
    “Money and sex don’t coexist in my brain, Giz. You
know that. It’s either one or the other and society—society
functions—all about money. And I’m sure as hell not thinking about
money when I’m up to my eyeballs in burnt umber and beautiful
women.”
    Giselle thought about that a minute. “Well, what
about one of your clients? Don’t tell me you’ve not run across one
tall, curvy blonde CEO somewhere out there?”
    “I’m Satan, remember? The minute a CEO figures out
she has to call me to come bail her out, my chances are reduced to
less than nil.”
    She sighed. “If that reputation bothers you so much,
stop being so subtle. Stop coddling people, letting them think
they’re doing all the work and all you’re there to do is milk their
bank accounts. Every time you go into a company, they see what they
want to see—and you let them. You lead them gently to their
enlightenment, you don’t force them to face their weaknesses
head-on, then they think they did it all themselves. You’d never
let me get away with that. All I ever hear is ‘Suck it up,
princess.’”
    “Well, of course. I don’t have time to be your
invisible hand. Besides, people who can’t face their weaknesses are
boring and I refuse to live with a boring woman.” He paused. “So
are you going to church today or not?”
    She sighed. “Not, I guess. I wasn’t sure I wanted to
go today anyway, so I got Sister Evans to substitute teach for
me.”
    “Why? You like to teach.”
    Giselle pursed her lips. “This week’s topic is the
law of chastity.” Sebastian gaped at her for a split-second before
he burst out laughing. “Me teaching a bunch of married women what
does and does not constitute chastity is about as fun as going to
church on Mother’s Day and being asked to babysit since, you know,
I must not have anything better to do.” She scowled at him.
“Shut up. It’s not funny.”
    “Yes it is.” He rubbed his eyes with the heels of
his palms, still laughing. “Okay, well. Since you’re not going to
church, come play tennis with me. That ought to make you feel
better.”
    “All right, but put a shirt on. I get tired of
wading through the drool you leave in your wake.”
    “Heh. Cheesecake after?”
    “Absolutely not.”
    “They have the low-carb version now.”
    “Oh? Well, okay. You’re buying.”
    “I always do.”
    * * * * *
     
     
     
     
    7:
WHOSOEVER LOOKETH ON A WOMAN
     
    When is this going to end?
    Bryce looked at his watch. Ten more minutes of