A Gigolo for Christmas (8 page)

Anders made haste getting back
down the stairs and over to the apartment complex office. He took the blonde woman’s
advice, then went a step further, acting on gut instinct. He strode across the
clubhouse lobby to the office with all the confidence he could muster, and
stopped at the receptionist’s desk.

“Is the manager in? I’d like to
speak with him about the current whereabouts of Sheila Everett.”

“Giving out confidential
information on tenants and previous tenants is against company policy. May I
ask who you are?”

Anders smiled.

“I’m Anders Adamson.” He handed
her a business card that displayed his name directly beneath the name of the
prominent local law firm where he’d worked before joining the escort service.
“I need to speak with Miss Everett about the events in her apartment on the
evening of December fourth.”

The receptionist examined the
card, then rose from her desk. “Just a moment, I’ll see if Mr. Kooper has time
to see you.”

The minute and a half that the
receptionist spent in the office was one of the longest in Anders’ life. Sheila
hadn’t had phone service other than her cell, and she was obviously ignoring
his calls. The utilities in this complex were included in the rent, and she
hadn’t opened an account anywhere in the city, which meant that she was now
living in another place where the utilities were included.

He dismissed the idea that she
was now living on the streets; she wouldn’t have left the apartment early
unless she’d had somewhere else to go. This was his only lead to finding her.
He just hoped the manager wouldn’t recognize him from the party, and would give
him Sheila’s new address.

The receptionist returned. “Go
right in, sir.”

Anders smiled at her. “Thank
you.”

He crossed to the door and
entered the complex manager’s office.

“A lawyer, huh?”

Mr. Kooper looked up at Anders with
a malicious gleam in his eye. Anders suddenly knew exactly which tack he needed
to take to get the information he wanted.

“I was admitted to the bar two
years ago after my graduation from Harvard.”
And disbarred six months ago,
but he doesn’t need to know that,
Anders thought.

“And you need Sheila Everett’s
address why?”

“There are some legal actions
arising out of the events at her apartment during the wild party on December
fourth that I need to speak with her about.” Another true but incomplete
statement. If he could talk her into it, she would be marrying him, a legal
action which would have arisen from the events at the party. If he hadn’t gone
to the party, he would never have met her, and therefore the marriage would
never have happened. If he could just make it happen.

“Somebody suing her, I expect?”
The wicked gleam in his eyes brightened.

“I’m not at liberty to divulge my
client’s business with anyone other than the parties involved, however,” he
patted the breast pocket of his suit, “I believe I
can
say that I have
some very sensitive paperwork which needs to be delivered to her in a timely
manner.”

Also a true statement. He had a
copy of the code of conduct for his escort service, which specifically
prohibited him to have a sexual relationship with any of his clients. He hoped
it would be sufficient argument to prove to Sheila that while he was a paid
escort, he was definitely
not
a gigolo.

Mr. Kooper cackled with glee. He
opened a drawer and began flicking through files. He obviously thought Anders
was about to deliver a subpoena, and was positively delighted at the idea that
she was in some sort of legal trouble. Anders felt sorry for the old man, that
he would have a life so empty that he could take joy in the misfortune of
others.

Within a minute, Mr. Kooper had
copied Sheila’s new address onto a sticky note and handed it to Anders. Anders
slipped the paper into his pocket, thanked the complex manager, and returned to
his car.

He entered the address in his
GPS, and realized it was only a few miles away. With any luck, he could get
things cleared up between them tonight.

For the second time in as many
hours, Anders stood in front of a door and knocked, roses in hand, hoping to
see Sheila answer the door.

For the second time in as many
hours, Anders was disappointed to see an attractive but unfamiliar blonde woman
answer.

“Can I help you?”

“Is Sheila home?”

The girl looked into the
driveway, then shook her head. “I don’t see her car. She should be home from
work any time now, though. Would you like to come in and wait?”

“I’d like that, thank you.”

She let him in and closed the
door behind him. Three silver bells hanging on the back of the door bounced and
jingled with the movement. She showed him into the living room, turned on the
lights, and pointed to the television remote. “Help yourself.” Then she turned
and dashed up the stairs.

Anders set the roses in the
middle of the coffee table, and looked around. It was a nice two-story home in
a good neighborhood. The furnishings were plain and well used, but also well
taken care of. The public rooms he’d seen were neat and tidy. It seemed like a
good place to live.

The door opened and closed
firmly, setting the door’s bells jingling once again. It made as reliable
annunciator system as the rattling stairs had been at Sheila’s last home.

“I’m home!” Sheila’s voice called
from the entry hall.

“You’ve got a guest in the living
room,” the blonde’s voice returned from the upper reaches of the house.

Anders heard the clicking sound
of Sheila’s heels on the tile floor. He took a deep breath. This was his last
chance for happiness.

Sheila walked into the room, and
froze as she spotted him.

“You!” The color drained from her
face and she swayed. Anders moved quickly to her side, reaching out to support
her.

“Me,” he agreed with her.

She backed away from him, not
allowing him to touch her. He refrained from following her.

“Get out. I don’t want to see
you. I never...” her voice trailed off, and he hoped it was because she
couldn’t bring herself to complete the lie that she never wanted to see him
again.

“I thought we lived in the United
States of America?” he asked.

She stopped backing away, and her
face showed her puzzlement.

“What? We do.”

“Oh, good.”

“What’s that got to do with
anything?”

“Well, under the constitutional
law of the United States of America, a man is considered to be innocent until
he is proven guilty. Could you at least extend the same privilege to me? Give
me fifteen minutes to plead my case, and if you still judge me guilty, I’ll
leave and promise to never bother you again. Will you grant me those fifteen
minutes?”

He saw a slight softening in her
eyes before she answered, and knew what her answer would be. She jerked her
head into a reluctant nod, and sat down in a chair. She pointed to the far end
of the couch. “Sit there. Don’t touch me. Just talk. You have fifteen minutes.”

He nodded and sat where he was
told, then took a deep breath.

“I can only assume that the
reason you’ve been avoiding me in the last two weeks is because you disapprove
of what you think I do for a living?”

She nodded.

“In fact, the last thing you said
to me was to call me a gigolo.”

She nodded again.

“Well then, I don’t blame you for
being upset. I wouldn’t take it kindly either if I discovered that the woman I
love was promiscuous on either a professional or a personal level.” Surprise
showed in her eyes. Good, the battle was half-won.

“I work for an escort service.
Despite how they are portrayed on television, “escort service” is not a synonym
for “brothel”. As a matter of fact, it’s even written in my contract that I’m
not allowed to have sexual conduct with my clients. I brought my copy of that
contract with me so you can see it if you’d like.” He reached into his pocket
and took out the sheaf of papers, but she shook her head just the tiniest bit.
He put the papers on the couch beside him and continued.

“I’ve never so much as kissed any
of the women I’ve dated because of my work. I’ve never touched them any more
than is required for the evening’s activities; helping them in and out of
vehicles, offering my arm as we walk, and very occasionally, dancing with them.

“I got the job six months ago
because it would pay my bills and leave my time free during the day to pursue
some investigations I needed to make.”

“So you’re not a--”

Anders smiled. She couldn’t even
say the word out loud. “No, I’m not a gigolo, or a male hooker, or any other
related term you’d care to place on that profession.”

He looked steadily into her eyes
as they defrosted completely.

“Then how on earth did you end
up, um, dating women for a living?” She shook her head as if to clear it.

Anders laughed. “I was a lawyer,
and a good one. However, when one of our clients didn’t get the results he
wanted, he lost a great deal of money. He blamed me, because I’d been handling
that matter for him. In truth, justice was carried out because he wasn’t
entitled to the money, but he was still unreasonably hot under the collar.

“He brought charges against me,
claiming I had had an inappropriate relationship with his underage daughter. He
showed enough of his manufactured proof to the bar association to get me
disbarred, but never brought the matter to court or complained to the police.

“My boss believed I was telling
the truth, but obviously can’t employ a lawyer who can’t practice. He has
promised that if I can clear my name, I can have my job back, though, and I
have that promise in writing.

“I took the job at the escort
service because it would cover my living expenses and student loan payments,
while giving me time off during the day to find proof that I was framed.

“Sheila, I love you. I want to
marry you. If you can find it in your heart to let me back into your life, I
will find some other job, even if it means taking longer to clear my name. I’ll
be a waiter, or a dishwasher, or even work at McDonalds. I’ll do whatever it
takes to have you in my life, because without you, my life is an empty space
that I hate living in.”

Sheila smiled at him, and his
heart immediately sped up to what felt like an unsafe level. He wasn’t sure if
it would jump out of his chest and skitter across the floor under its own
power, or simply work itself into a frenzy and quit.

“Anders, my dearest love, thank
you for explaining everything to me. I’m so sorry that I jumped to the wrong conclusion.
I promise I’ll never do it again. I don’t want to face a life without you in it,
either. Will you forgive me for being so judgmental?”

Anders stood and opened his arms.
Sheila flew into them, and he swore he could hear the sizzle of electricity as
their lips met in joyous union. He reveled in the feel of her body in his arms,
her softness pressed against him, and the devastatingly mind-numbing effect her
kisses had on him.

Sometime later, when they finally
managed to tear their lips apart, she murmured in his ear.

“Did you really mean what you
said?”

“I always mean what I say. Which
part are you checking on? Do I need to start looking for different work
tomorrow?”

“The part about wanting to marry
me. Was that a proposal?”

“Absolutely. Will you marry me?”

“On one condition.”

“Anything.”

“Really? You’ll agree to anything
I ask without finding out what it is first?”

“I will do whatever it takes to
get you to be my wife. It doesn’t matter what it is.”

She snuggled closer into his
arms.

“I just want you to promise that
as soon as your name is cleared and you go back to being a lawyer, all of your
nights will belong to me.”

He laughed. “I promise.”

She kissed him lightly on his
cheek.

“Have I told you how sexy I think
your dimple is?”

He shook his head.

Sheila laughed. “When I first saw
you standing there in your tux, I thought you looked like James Bond.”

“James Bond, huh? That’s a
reputation that will be hard to live up to.”

“Just so long as I’m the only
Bond girl in your life.”

“You’re the only woman I’ve ever
been interested in even kissing. You are the only woman I’ll ever look at for
the rest of my life.”

She pulled his face back down to
hers, and gave serious attention to kissing him.

Anders, suddenly weak in the
knees, sat on the couch, Sheila falling into his lap as they continued the most
important kiss in the world, the one that sealed their love.