Free The Playboy's Proposition by Deena Ward

kind.
    His hands strummed down the length of my naked back. When he
discovered the extent of my bareness, he stiffened, then his hands slid on down
over my ass cheeks. He squeezed and, with his fingertips, raised the hem of my
dress higher and higher.
    Oh no, I thought, a wave of giddiness rising in me. Will
this be like the bar that first night? If we continued on in this fashion much
longer, I wouldn’t care how far this went, and who knew what might happen in
that little room.
    Perhaps Gibson thought the same, or perhaps it was just his
cool control, but he soon broke our kiss, pulled my arms from around his neck
and gently pushed me away from him.
    I stood there panting slightly, while he turned me around
and glanced at my naked back, then turned me to face him again.
    He said, “You’re beautiful in that dress, but it’s far too
revealing for a conservative place like this. It’s not appropriate.”
    That was a cold splash of water in my face. I stiffened and
said, “I apologize if I’ve offended your code of decency.”
    “It’s not my code. I was being helpful.”
    “Maybe I was trying to get on the Trashiest Dressed List.
Did you ever think of that?”
    Gibson looked at me quizzically, then said, “It doesn’t
matter. Perhaps I shouldn’t have mentioned it.” His face cleared and his dark
eyes grew intent when he said, “Why haven’t you called me? I expected your call
by now.”
    A few flippant answers zipped through my brain, but I chose
to waffle instead. “I’ve been really busy. Work, and things.”
    “Work and things,” he repeated. “What things? Is everything
okay?”
    “I’m fine. It’s just stuff. Life happens, as they say.”
Well, that was lame, I thought.
    He cocked an eyebrow. “When do you think this ‘stuff’ might
clear up so you can call me?”
    “Umm,” I hedged. I rapidly calculated the time I had
remaining with Michael. We still had three meetings to go. Of course, I didn’t
know Michael’s timeline. Could be three days, could be a few weeks. I had no
idea. “Umm ...”
    “Are you seeing someone else?” Gibson asked.
    “Well, umm ...” Damn. This was ridiculous. I clearly wasn’t
very good at subterfuge of this type. And anyway, we were both adults here.
He’d just have to accept the truth.
    I said, “I can’t say exactly when I’ll be free, because ...
because I accepted Michael Weston’s offer. You know, the five nights thing I
told you about. I don’t know when those’ll be over.”
    The instant I said Michael’s name, Gibson flinched back in
what I can only describe as surprise with a healthy dash of disgust. He
actually took a step back from me, and I got the impression that I was sullied
somehow.
    Gibson asked in a harsh tone, “You’re with Michael Weston?”
    I was confused and offended. “Kind of, for now,” I answered.
“I thought I’d take my five nights with Michael, and if it didn’t work out and
turn into something more permanent, then maybe I’d call you.”
    He appeared utterly scandalized by my answer. “I don’t
understand. I warned you about him. I told you that you had to choose, that you
couldn’t have us both.”
    “I figured you just meant that I couldn’t be with both of
you at the same time. Besides, I’m not a wilting virgin, you know. I get to
have options if I want them.”
    “And you used that option to choose Weston?”
    “Why are you so shocked? Michael is sexy and hot, and any
woman would want to be with him ...”
    An unexpected voice broke into our conversation. Michael
pulled back the curtain and leaned casually against the side of the doorway.
    He said, “Thank you for the compliment, my sweet. But
surely, ‘any woman’ is a tad of exaggeration.”
    Oh no, oh no, I thought. This wasn’t good. This wasn’t good
at all. I wondered what would happen if I just walked out of this stupid, cursed
restaurant and took a cab home and never spoke to any of them again.
    I blurted at Michael, “How long have