“A valuable skill.”
“I think I will place a call to Melisse if that is satisfactory to you. Then I shall mix you a drink.”
I gave him the okay and told him where to find my unspectacular liquor cabinet. He turned away. The view was very nice from behind.
In a few minutes, he returned. The view wasn’t bad in that direction, either, especially now that I knew he wasn’t going to shoot me. I took the drink he offered. It was amber-colored.
“What is it?”
“Taste it.”
I did. As you know, I can’t even hold my Nyquil, so I generally avoid liquor, but this was good stuff. Sweet and rich and strangely satisfying. “How’d you make it?”
He shrugged and sat beside me on the couch. “I am good at only a few things. That is one of them.”
I drank again, impressed. “What are the others?”
He smiled.
“Oh,” I said, and he laughed. The sound was rich and sexy, a bit like the drink.
“Put your feet here.” He patted his thigh. “And I will show you.”
“I don’t think—”
“Christina, please, let me pamper you this once,” he said, and stared at me with those sexy, soulful eyes.
I turned slowly about and settled my feet cautiously onto the couch.
“Perhaps I should tell you—” I began, but in that moment he took my left foot in his hands. Now, here’s the thing, I’m an American. A Midwesterner by birth, in fact, and Midwesterners don’t touch except to copulate and give purple nerples. Hell, they barely talk. So the feel of his hands against my arch was shocking. His smile, on the other hand, was just short of celestial, and when he pressed his thumb up the middle of my sole, I felt myself go into a full-body swoon.
“What were you about to say?” he asked, and massaged again.
“Ummm. Oh, yes.” I’m sure I wasn’t panting. Damn noisy dog. “Rivera and I…
Jack
Rivera…we’re—”
He massaged my little toe. Holy fuck, who knew the little piglet was the center of all things erotic? “You are what?”
My neck had gone rubbery and my mind was about to follow suit.
“We’re…friends.”
He smiled and moved on to the next toe. Lightning zinged straight from my digit to every sex organ in my body. “It is good to have friends.”
“Of course, that doesn’t mean that
we
can’t be…” He pressed his thumb slowly up my sole again. I stifled a moan. “Friends,” I added.
“That is good, Christina, for I wish to make you happy.” His thigh felt hard beneath my heel. It made me wonder about other parts of his anatomy. “I believe you will enjoy the lobster.”
“The…” My gaze zipped nervously to his crotch.
“Melisse is renowned for its bolognese.”
“Oh.” I snapped my hot attention back to his eyes. “The…the…restaurant.”
“Yes.”
I couldn’t decide if he looked amused or bemused.
I nodded spastically and took a drink. “Where…ummm…where is this Melisse exactly?”
“On Wilshire. In Santa Monica.”
I stared. “Are you kidding? That’s half a state from here.”
He laughed. “I have friends, too, Christina.”
“Did you give them foot massages or something?”
He laughed. “Or something,” he said, and sobered. “Tell me of this David Hawkins.”
I scowled. I was just beginning to relax and didn’t want to think about anything but the sunshiny feel of his hands against my skin. Besides, it was kind of embarrassing to admit that the man who’d been my hero was now doing life in a California state pen.
“It may help you to talk about it,” he said.
I scowled, drank, took a deep breath. “David helped me out when I first arrived in L.A.”
“Arrived from where?” he asked, and flexed my toes with the palm of his hand. I let my eyes drift closed for a second.
“Chicago. That’s where I grew up.”
“I bet you were a beautiful child.”
“You kidding?” Was my diction slipping a little? “They barely made a tuba big enough for me.”
He smiled. “Well, you are just the right size now.”
“For a
“I think I will place a call to Melisse if that is satisfactory to you. Then I shall mix you a drink.”
I gave him the okay and told him where to find my unspectacular liquor cabinet. He turned away. The view was very nice from behind.
In a few minutes, he returned. The view wasn’t bad in that direction, either, especially now that I knew he wasn’t going to shoot me. I took the drink he offered. It was amber-colored.
“What is it?”
“Taste it.”
I did. As you know, I can’t even hold my Nyquil, so I generally avoid liquor, but this was good stuff. Sweet and rich and strangely satisfying. “How’d you make it?”
He shrugged and sat beside me on the couch. “I am good at only a few things. That is one of them.”
I drank again, impressed. “What are the others?”
He smiled.
“Oh,” I said, and he laughed. The sound was rich and sexy, a bit like the drink.
“Put your feet here.” He patted his thigh. “And I will show you.”
“I don’t think—”
“Christina, please, let me pamper you this once,” he said, and stared at me with those sexy, soulful eyes.
I turned slowly about and settled my feet cautiously onto the couch.
“Perhaps I should tell you—” I began, but in that moment he took my left foot in his hands. Now, here’s the thing, I’m an American. A Midwesterner by birth, in fact, and Midwesterners don’t touch except to copulate and give purple nerples. Hell, they barely talk. So the feel of his hands against my arch was shocking. His smile, on the other hand, was just short of celestial, and when he pressed his thumb up the middle of my sole, I felt myself go into a full-body swoon.
“What were you about to say?” he asked, and massaged again.
“Ummm. Oh, yes.” I’m sure I wasn’t panting. Damn noisy dog. “Rivera and I…
Jack
Rivera…we’re—”
He massaged my little toe. Holy fuck, who knew the little piglet was the center of all things erotic? “You are what?”
My neck had gone rubbery and my mind was about to follow suit.
“We’re…friends.”
He smiled and moved on to the next toe. Lightning zinged straight from my digit to every sex organ in my body. “It is good to have friends.”
“Of course, that doesn’t mean that
we
can’t be…” He pressed his thumb slowly up my sole again. I stifled a moan. “Friends,” I added.
“That is good, Christina, for I wish to make you happy.” His thigh felt hard beneath my heel. It made me wonder about other parts of his anatomy. “I believe you will enjoy the lobster.”
“The…” My gaze zipped nervously to his crotch.
“Melisse is renowned for its bolognese.”
“Oh.” I snapped my hot attention back to his eyes. “The…the…restaurant.”
“Yes.”
I couldn’t decide if he looked amused or bemused.
I nodded spastically and took a drink. “Where…ummm…where is this Melisse exactly?”
“On Wilshire. In Santa Monica.”
I stared. “Are you kidding? That’s half a state from here.”
He laughed. “I have friends, too, Christina.”
“Did you give them foot massages or something?”
He laughed. “Or something,” he said, and sobered. “Tell me of this David Hawkins.”
I scowled. I was just beginning to relax and didn’t want to think about anything but the sunshiny feel of his hands against my skin. Besides, it was kind of embarrassing to admit that the man who’d been my hero was now doing life in a California state pen.
“It may help you to talk about it,” he said.
I scowled, drank, took a deep breath. “David helped me out when I first arrived in L.A.”
“Arrived from where?” he asked, and flexed my toes with the palm of his hand. I let my eyes drift closed for a second.
“Chicago. That’s where I grew up.”
“I bet you were a beautiful child.”
“You kidding?” Was my diction slipping a little? “They barely made a tuba big enough for me.”
He smiled. “Well, you are just the right size now.”
“For a
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