A genuine smile curved over Stella’s lips. “That’s actually true. We work well together.”
Really. He hated the idea of her working with Philip and liking any part of it. The bastard should have irritated her as much as he did Michael. He was hit by the juvenile desire to kiss her publicly and stake his claim on her, and he removed his hand from hers before he could act. She didn’t notice. She was still smiling at Philip—her real smile, the one he usually got to himself. Fuck if that didn’t hurt like getting one of his balls torn off.
“She’s one of the few who can tolerate me. I know I’m an asshole. I have standards, and I can’t stand laziness and ineptitude.” Philip sent a telling glance Michael’s way.
Michael took a deep breath and released it slowly. He searched the walls of the room for a clock. How much more of this did he have to withstand?
The conversation at the table veered down the path of economic theory and advanced statistics, and he watched with a sinking sensation as Stella opened up and began talking. She had said to stop her if she started talking about work, but she was loving it. It was so clearly her passion in life. Michael didn’t want to deny her. Philip, for all his supposed assholishness, kept up with her in a way Michael never could.
He was reminded of that kiss. She’d said she hadn’t liked it and that Philip was annoying, but she certainly wasn’t minding interacting with him now.
Michael couldn’t help observing that Stella and Philip made a good-looking couple. With their similar interests and backgrounds, they were nauseatingly perfect for one another. He remembered that it was Philip who had inspired Stella to hire an escort in the first place. She’d wanted to make Philip hers. Maybe—fuck, he hated thinking this—maybe she should.
At the end of the day, what Michael and Stella had was physical. They didn’t connect in this cerebral manner, and he knew how important it was that Stella’s mind was stimulated.
It sucked admitting it, but he wasn’t enough for her. On several different levels. She could never love him. Michael really was nothing but practice. As the economics conversation continued, a heartsick, organ-shredding feeling gripped him. Everything felt wrong. Even his skin felt off-size.
“Oh, I’m so glad Philip’s mother was able to make it,” Ann said.
A red-nailed hand rested on the back of the chair next to Michael, and a familiar combination of scents assailed his nose. Cinnamon and cigarettes. Ice cubes clinked before a lowball glass half-filled with whiskey was set on the table.
“Hello, darlings. Sorry I’m late.” A petite woman with long bleached blond hair and a tight black cocktail dress lowered herself into the empty seat. Her profile was turned to him, but Michael recognized her. He’d kissed that jaw. “I had to make a quick stop before—” She faced him, and her expression went as surprised as the Botox allowed. “Well, well, well, hello, Michael.”
“Hello, Aliza.” What an excellent time to bump into his least-favorite former client.
Chapter 24
“You two are acquainted? How wonderful is that.” Her mother clapped her hands together.
Stella felt like she was going to vomit. Philip’s mom was the woman from the club. She’d given Michael his car. The one he drove every day. The one he wouldn’t let Stella replace.
Michael reclined in his seat with a cool smile, looking casual, perfectly comfortable, and drop-dead handsome in his black suit. “We go a ways back.”
Aliza released a husky laugh and stroked her hand down his arm. “We do.”
When he didn’t so much as flinch at the contact, Stella’s throat knotted. Michael liked older women—he’d said so. With her large breasts, tiny figure, whiskey-smooth voice, and sophisticated seductiveness, she was sex incarnate. Stella reminded herself he’d ended things with Aliza. Today, he hadn’t given Aliza three glorious orgasms with his beautiful mouth before making love to her like he couldn’t get enough.
“Please do tell me, who did you come here with?” Aliza’s eyes swept over the table and considered Stella’s mother before they went back to Michael’s face.
“He’s here with me.” Stella scooted closer to him and covered his hand with hers. She expected him to flip his hand over and interlace their fingers like he usually did. When he remained immobile, her stomach dropped. What did that mean?
Aliza picked up her whiskey and considered Stella over the glass’s rim. “Well, aren’t you wholesome-looking. Your daughter is beautiful, Ann. I can see why Phil likes her so much. It’s a shame she isn’t single.”
Her mother smiled, but Stella could see from the tension around her eyes that she was worried. “Thank you, Aliza. These two look very happy. It’s no shame at all.”
Stella squeezed Michael’s hand tighter as she stared up at his profile. Before tonight, they had been happy. What was wrong? He remained impassive, his gaze trained on Aliza. Stella was touching him, but he felt miles away.
“So it’s serious?” Aliza looked at Stella’s parents before she smirked and sent Michael an amused glance. “Meeting the parents now, Michael? Would you have met mine for the right price?”
“What are you talking about?” Philip narrowed his eyes as he looked from his mom to Michael and back again.
Aliza took a healthy drink from her lowball glass and smiled suggestively. “We used to . . . go on dates.”
“You’ve got to be kidding me.” Philip stared at Michael in rising disgust. “You’ve slept with my mom?”
“Not exactly,” Michael replied with a tight smile.
Aliza chuckled. “There wasn’t any sleeping involved, if I remember correctly.”
“Oh, for Pete’s sake. I need a drink.” Her father pushed away from the table.
“Get me another whiskey on the rocks while you’re at it, darling,” Aliza said, shaking her glass.
“You’ve had enough.” He fled toward the cocktail bar in the back corner.
Aliza’s throaty laugh floated over the table before she drained her glass of the amber fluid and set it down. “Never.”
Because Stella was sitting so close to Michael, she saw when Aliza’s red nails brushed over his thigh. He didn’t move. He merely stared at the woman as her hand stroked leisurely upward, coming closer and closer to the fly of his pants. Why wasn’t he stopping her? Did he want her to touch him?
Standing up abruptly, he said, “I’m going to get some air. Excuse me.”
Before Aliza could pursue him, Stella jumped up and followed him through the back doors. The air outside smelled of nighttime, cut grass, and chlorine, and the coolness sent goose bumps over her bare shoulders and arms.
“Michael,” she called out.
He paused next to the blue glowing swimming pool. “You should go back in, Stella.”
She walked to his side. This distance between them was making her panic. How did she bring them back together again? She took his hand and wrapped him around her waist as she pushed her body close. “But I’ll miss you.”
His eyes softened, and he tightened his arms around her. She sighed and rested her cheek on his chest, breathing him in. If he could hold her like this, everything was still okay.
“You were having a good time before my past sat at the table.” He swept his hand up and down her back.
“I would rather have stayed home with you.” She brought herself closer to him and kissed his throat. “Why did you let her touch you like that? It drove me crazy.” He was hers.
“Did it?” He skimmed his lips over her jaw, brushing light kisses upon her sensitive skin.
“Yes.”
“It’s a bad policy to make a scene with former clients. Even if they don’t appreciate it at the time, they come to later on. I’ll do my best to afford you the same courtesy in the future.”
In the future. After they separated. “I don’t want that.”
He was part of her life now, one of the best parts. He couldn’t leave.
“That makes things easier for me,” he said.
“No, that’s not what I meant.”
“What do you want, Stella?”