Foolish Me Page 9

  “I know. She must have been on your pillow.”

  “What, the whole time you were blowing me?”

  He laughed ruefully. “Yeah. It’s a good thing I didn’t know we had an audience. It would have thrown me off completely.”

  “Well, I thank you, and my dick thanks you.”

  “You and your dick are very welcome. Can you get dressed?”

  “Uh… yeah.” I arched and stretched and sat up. “Give me the briefs, would you? Wills, how come….” I was suddenly distracted. “You didn’t come.” I knew, and not just because the front of his trousers wasn’t damp.

  “No, although it was touch and go there for a while. You make the hottest sounds when you’re ready to come.”

  “But you didn’t come.” I stood and stepped into the briefs. He was right. They were comfortable.

  “I’ll be on a low simmer all night, babe.” A slow fire burned in his eyes. His voice was low and rough, and he pressed my palm to his groin, against the unobtrusive swell of his cock, then brought my hand to his mouth. He ran his tongue across my palm to the base of my thumb and caressed the mound of Venus at its base. “You’ll know that I’m hot for you—” He sucked my forefinger into his mouth. “—and any time you want to take me—” He sucked on my middle finger. “—anywhere you want to take me, you can have me.”

  I shuddered. If I hadn’t just come, his words and actions would have had me teetering on the brink. I took my finger from his mouth and kissed him, tasting my come on his tongue.

  “I’d better get dressed, or we’ll never get out of here.”

  “I’ll just go brush my teeth.”

  “Good idea.”

  It didn’t take long for me to finish dressing. I was still worrying about the fact that he’d been so blasé about my declaration of love. After all, I didn’t say it very often. Well, actually, beyond that one time, I didn’t say it at all.

  “Wills.” I turned toward the mirror to make sure my hair was in place, my bow tie was straight, and the material of my cummerbund unwrinkled.

  “Yeah, babe?” He came out of the bathroom, picked up my tux jacket, and came to me, holding it so I could slide my arms into the sleeves. All the while I watched him in the mirror. He ran his hands up and down my arms, turned me around, and slid the buttons into the buttonholes. “You look gorgeous, you know that, Theo? Maybe I should wear my gun.”

  “Oh, no. That will ruin the line of your tux.” It was the Armani I’d gotten him for Christmas. “Wills….”

  “Hmm?” He pinned a red rose to my lapel, which matched the one in his. “Miss Su, be a good girl, and keep an eye on the house.” She gave another trill, and Wills grinned, leaned down, and scritched her chin. “Come on, get your overcoat. We don’t want to lose our reservations.”

  “No, of course not. Which car are we taking, the Corvair or the Dodge?”

  “Neither. I rented a limo for the evening. Nothing but the best for….” He paused by the door. “Is something wrong, babe?”

  Didn’t it mean anything that I’d told you I love you? “No.” I was—had been—a pro, and as such, a damned good actor. I gave him a jaunty grin and kissed him. “Let’s get going!”

  GIOVANNI, WHO’D been the maître d’ at Raphael’s since it had opened, smiled when he saw us. “Your table is waiting, signori.” He snapped his fingers, and a young woman in an evening gown appeared and took our overcoats. He snapped his fingers again, and our waiter appeared.

  “It’s good to see you, Nino.”

  “And you too, signori. If you will come this way?”

  Because he’d made reservations so far in advance, Wills had snared us one of the best tables in the house. We followed our waiter across the room, passing a dimly lit alcove. It was the perfect place for lovers, and I’d kind of been hoping we’d get it, but Wills had told me it had been reserved by a couple of regulars. I glanced toward it to see what lucky couple occupied it.

  I did a double take and came to a halt.

  “Vince! Happy New Year!”

  He looked up from his entree, his expression at first cold and flat and then warming slightly.

  Wills had realized I wasn’t with him, and he came back to me. His eyes seemed to widen as his gaze went from Vince to the man who shared his table.

  “Wills, it’s Vince! I didn’t expect to see you here tonight.” And not in an Oscar de la Renta tux. “Usually you’re working on holidays.”

  “Bascopolis.” He rose to his feet and shook first my hand and then Wills’s. “Matheson.”

  “Mr. Vincent. Happy New Year, sir.”

  “Yeah. You too.”

  I waited for Vince to introduce us to his dinner companion.

  “Uh…. Quinn, this is my former landlord, Theo Bascopolis. You’ve met Matheson.”

  “Yes.” He stood also, and I could see he was a few inches shorter than Vince. “It’s nice to meet you.” His hair was brown and his eyes a shade the dim lighting made difficult to determine. The tux he wore fit him well, and if I’d still been in the business, I’d have been willing to take him as a client.

  “Same here.” I shook his hand. “Are you a colleague of Vince’s?”

  He smiled and extended his hand to Wills. “Matheson. It’s nice to see you again.” He didn’t answer my question.

  “Mr. Mann.” Wills kept the handshake brief. “We won’t keep you from your dinner, Mr. Vincent.”

  “Thanks.”

  “But…,” I started to protest.

  “Theo, our waiter is… uh… waiting.” He gave Vince’s companion a nod, said, “Happy New Year, sir,” and then closed his hand around my arm and walked away. Since I didn’t want to be dragged across the room, I hurried to keep in step with him.

  “Wills, that was rude! What’s up with you?”

  “Do you want to get me—” He bit off his words. “Listen to me. You did not see Mr. Vincent here tonight, got that? Especially not with that man.”

  “What?” Why would Wills react like this? “But….” I shut my mouth. I’d lived in DC long enough to know things weren’t always what they seemed, and just because Wills was living openly with me, that didn’t mean that everyone working for Huntingdon had that option. “You seemed to know the man who was with him.”

  “I’ve seen him before.”

  “Is he the man who came up to see Vince?”

  We reached our table, where Nino was waiting, and I shut up. He was holding out a chair, and Wills gestured for me to take it. I sat down, and Nino snapped out my napkin and placed it on my lap, then moved to Wills and did the same for him. Wills’s seat gave him an unobstructed view of the room. And of Vince and his companion.

  “What may I get you to drink, signori?” Nino tried so hard to be Italian.

  “I’ll have a strawberry daiquiri.”

  Wills was staring across the room toward the alcove where Vince and his friend sat.

  “Wills?”

  “What? Oh, I’ll have a Johnny Walker Black, on the rocks.” He looked up at Nino. “Make it a double.”

  Wills rarely drank. Wine and beer, sure, but rarely hard liquor.

  I waited until Nino left to get our drinks. “Okay. Are you going to answer my question?” Wills looked confused, and I patiently repeated myself. “Is he the man who came to see Vince when he was living upstairs?”

  He reached for his water glass, nearly knocking it over, steadied himself and took a sip, then brought his napkin to his lips.

  “He’s someone Mr. Vincent could get can—”

  “Vince could lose his job? Because he’s dating another man?” I hadn’t thought Huntingdon was that rigid.

  “Jesus.” Wills ran a hand over his hair. “It’s one thing if Mr. Vincent’s just fucking him,” he muttered, obviously talking to himself. “If he’s dating him…. Oh, Jesus.”

  “Could Vince get in trouble for dating this guy?”

  “Oh, Theo, you don’t know the half of it.”

  “Your drinks, signori.”
Nino noticed the unopened menus lying on our plates. “Are you ready to order?”

  “Not just yet,” I told him.

  Wills took his glass, downed a large swallow, and began to cough. Nino pounded his back.

  “I’m okay. I’m okay.” Wills put down the glass and wiped his mouth with his napkin.

  “Very good. I give you some time to decide what you would like this evening. Everything is primo number one.”

  “Thanks, Nino.” I waited until he left us. “Are you okay, babe?”

  “Yeah.” He coughed again and took a sip of water.

  “Do you want to go somewhere else?”

  “No! If Mr. Vincent thinks…. No.”

  “Are you sure you want to stay?”

  “Yeah.” He swallowed and opened his menu. “Let’s just…. This is New Year’s Eve, and tomorrow is your birthday. Let’s order, okay?”

  “Sure, babe.” I picked up my menu. I’d never seen him so shaken, and I didn’t know what to make of it. Normally he was the most easygoing of men; I could count on the fingers of one hand—and have fingers left over—the times I’d seen him stressed or pissed. But if he didn’t want to talk to me about it freely, I wasn’t going to twist his arm. “The cold antipasto looks good….”

  MY BACK was to the alcove, so I couldn’t observe without being obvious about it. There were only so many times I could retrieve my napkin from the floor before it started to look as if I had dropsy.

  Wills had barely touched his salad, but he finished his Johnny Walker Black.

  “Would il signore care for another?”

  “No, thanks, Nino. I’ll stick to water.”

  “But it is New Year’s Eve.”

  “No, thanks, Nino.”

  “Very good, signore.”

  I didn’t try to persuade Wills to have another drink or to switch to something else. I took a roll and buttered it, then offered it to him.

  It wound up torn to small pieces and left on his bread and butter plate. For once, I was at a loss. Small talk didn’t seem appropriate. Neither did talking about what had disturbed him, which for some reason appeared to have been seeing his boss in a social situation.

  “Wills….”

  Nino took away our salads and brought out the entrees—veal marsala for Wills and veal piccata for me—then bustled off.

  Wills’s gaze was fastened on something over my shoulder. He put his napkin beside his plate. “I’ll be right back. I’m going to the men’s room.”

  I didn’t tease him that he hadn’t had enough to drink to make his back teeth float. I just nodded and watched as he walked toward the restrooms. I was able to see that Vince had left his seat and was heading in the same direction.

  I toyed with my veal, wondering what the fuck was going on.

  Within a matter of minutes, Wills returned to the table. He had himself under control once more. If I hadn’t spent the past nine months getting to know him, I wouldn’t have guessed that he’d been seriously disturbed by something only moments before.

  “This looks good.” He spread his napkin across his lap and picked up his fork. “I’m starved.”

  WE FINISHED off dinner with cappuccino and a cake filled with cannoli cream. On it was a single candle, and the waiters came out singing “Happy Birthday” in Italian. The other diners applauded as I blew out the candle.

  “How’d you know it was my birthday, Nino?”

  “Ah.” He tried to look mysterious. “A little bird, he told me so.” And he winked at Wills.

  “When did you have time to tell him?”

  “When I called to make the reservation. I told you, babe. Only the best for my guy.”

  I laughed and shook my head, relieved he had regained his equilibrium.

  Nino brought the check and a box for the rest of my cake, and when I reached for my wallet, Wills rested his hand on mine.

  “It’s your birthday, babe. I’ve got it.” He took out a credit card and placed it on the tray.

  Nino returned with the chit, and Wills signed it, pocketed his credit card, and left a very sizable tip.

  “Ready, babe?”

  “Yeah.”

  He reached into his inner jacket pocket and took out a slim phone about the size of a cigarette case. “Granger, pick us up in about five minutes.” He flipped the phone shut and replaced it. “Okay, let’s collect our overcoats and go.”

  On the way out I noticed that the alcove where Vince and his dinner companion had been seated was now occupied by another couple.

  Chapter 9

  THE LIMO was idling at the curb, and lounging against it was our chauffeur.

  Granger looked like something out of a movie about high society—six feet tall, dressed in a snug black chauffeur’s uniform, patent leather boots that molded well-shaped calves, a billed cap shading quietly observant gray-green eyes.

  At our approach, Granger snapped to attention and opened the passenger door.

  “Shall I take that, sir?” She nodded toward the boxed cake in my hand. Her voice was husky, deep for a woman.

  “No, that’s okay, thank you.”

  “Very good, sir. To the Madison Arms now?”

  “Yes, please.” I turned my head to smile at my lover. “We’re going to be fashionably late.”

  “Cool. I always wanted to make an entrance.”

  Granger suddenly coughed. Wills raised an eyebrow, and she cleared her throat. Her face smoothed of all expression and she murmured, “Beg pardon, sir.” She waited until we entered the limo, then shut the door, walked around to the driver’s side, and got in.

  “She reminds me of you when you get that look on your face.”

  “What look?”

  He really had no clue? I just grinned at him. “Where’d you find this company anyway, babe?” Acme Limousine Service—I didn’t think I’d ever heard of it, and I’d ridden in about every limousine service in DC, Virginia, and Maryland. Not that I was about to tell my lover that.

  “Someone at work recommended it.” He exchanged a smile with the chauffeur through the rearview mirror.

  “Ah.” Should I be jealous? “Tell ‘someone’ I said thanks.”

  No, there was no reason for me to be. Granger had black hair, after all.

  I pressed a button, raising the smoked-glass partition that separated the driver’s compartment from the passenger’s.

  I loved limousines.

  This limo’s amenities were surprisingly lavish. It contained a minibar fully stocked with fifty milliliter bottles of vodka, gin, scotch, and whiskey, as well as various liqueurs and splits of champagne, and a fridge that not only held cream and mixers for the drinks, but caviar and crème fraîche, smoked salmon, truffles, and foie gras—I’d checked it out earlier. A small cabinet opened to reveal packets of Petits Toasts and Carr’s Table Water Crackers.

  “The only thing that’s missing are blinis.” I opened the fridge, made some room, and slid the box inside. “Want some caviar, babe?”

  “After the meal we just ate? I don’t think so. And I’ll be sure to notify the company that they’re falling down on the job.”

  “Well, they’d need something to toast the blinis, and they might feel that’s a bit much.”

  “You think?” He patted the seat beside him. “This baby opens into a bed. A toaster oven shouldn’t be that much more of a demand.”

  “I guess not. How long will we have the limo?”

  “It’s ours for the night.”

  “Then after the ball….” I touched my tongue to my upper lip. “We could ride around and sample the goodies.”

  “Works for me.” He shifted on the bench seat to face me, curling a leg under him and opening himself to me. The material of his trousers stretched tight across his groin, making the bulge of his cock obvious. “All the goodies?”

  “All of them.” I rested a hand on his package, and he shivered. His eyes were hot, and he was breathing heavily. As he’d promised, he was hard under my hand, and if I made any move to
take him here in the backseat of this limo, he wouldn’t stop me. He’d look well-fucked when I got through with him, and the boys at the ball would be aware of what we’d done.

  He wasn’t a trophy, though, and I had no intention of displaying him as such.

  “Meanwhile….”

  “Yes?”

  I sighed. “Meanwhile, don’t wrinkle your trousers.” I removed my hand, very reluctantly. “The boys will think I don’t know how to take care of you.”

  “And we wouldn’t want that.” He shifted around next to me until our thighs brushed against each other.

  “No. You’re more than a boy who’ll be on my arm for the night.” I studied the crease in my trousers. “Uh…. Wills, would you tell me something?”

  “That sounds serious. Sure I will, babe.”

  “Okay.” I drew a breath. “How come you didn’t act all thrilled when I… when I told you I loved you?”

  “What? When was this?”

  Oh, Jesus, he didn’t even remember? “When you blew me before we left for dinner.”

  “Oh. Then.”

  I smacked his shoulder. “Yes, then.”

  “Hey!” He rubbed his shoulder, but there was a slight smile on his lips. I hadn’t smacked him that hard. “I thought that was the hot sex talking.”

  “What?”

  “Well, y’know, guys always say that when they’ve had a climax that blows the top of their head off.”

  “Not very modest, are you?” I glared at him, but he didn’t seem to notice.

  He blew on his fingernails and dusted them on his shoulder.

  “And you would know this how? Did… did you ever say that to Michael?”

  “No.” His expression became sad, as it always did when he spoke of his friend. “And Michael never said it to me.”

  Which proved what I’d thought from the first moment I’d heard of Michael: he was a fool.

  On the other hand, was I much better?

  “Wills, I never… never say I….” I couldn’t meet his eyes and turned my head to look out the window. Holiday lights still decorated the streets and would probably continue to do so for another week or so. “I do, you know.”