Free The Playboy's Proposition by Deena Ward Page A

you been out there?”
    At the same time, Gibson glared at me and said, “You told me
you weren’t on a date.”
    Michael said, “I got here in time to overhear you
complimenting my hotness, Nonnie. The bigger question is, what were you doing
in here before I arrived?”
    I looked at Gibson, who scowled at me. Then at Michael, who
was wearing his little half grin, but I could see tenseness under the glib expression.
I looked back at Gibson.
    I said, “Technically, I’m not on a date. Michael, explain to
Gibson how this isn’t a date. I can’t remember your line of reasoning on it,
but it was pretty convincing.”
    Okay, I thought, that was probably a stupid thing to say. I
brushed it aside with a wave of my hand and looked at Michael. I said, “And
before you got here, we were just talking, obviously.”
    Gibson seemed to have gotten himself back under control. He
drew himself up, and his face went blank, his handsome features even, his
expression impenetrable.
    He said to me, “I should rejoin my party, but it was nice
seeing you again, Miss Crawford. Good evening.”
    I mumbled a weak, “You too. Bye.”
    As Gibson brushed past Michael, Michael said, “Enjoy your
meal, Reeves.”
    Gibson didn’t respond or glance at him, only walked smoothly
away.
    I was alone with Michael. He didn’t say anything, but his
expression had changed with Gibson’s exit. Now his anger was obvious. Well
damn.
    He said, “I think your peccadillo here has put something of
a damper on the evening, for me at least. I’m going to make our excuses to the
Hoytes. In the meanwhile, since you obviously can’t be trusted out and about,
you’ll go straight to the ladies room and wait for me there. I’ll knock on the
door when I’m ready to leave.”
    He held back the curtain for me to exit. I stared at him. I
had no doubt that he was serious with his demand; my only doubt was whether or
not I’d obey him. We stared at each other, a silent showdown.
    I was the first to blink. I caved, mostly because, deep
down, I felt that I probably deserved the blame on this one. I walked past him
and headed to the restroom. Stopping inside the doorway, I looked back. Michael
stood there, scowling, watching me, making sure I obeyed him, I presumed. I
scampered into the ladies room.
    The split second I had taken a few steps out of the coat
check room, I felt the pressure of those damnable Ben Wa balls still rolling
around inside me. The sensations could not have been more unwanted. Beyond
inappropriate. Once I was in the bathroom, I settled into a stall and managed,
after some fumbling around, to grasp the chain and remove the toy. I blew out a
sigh of relief. At least here was something I could control.
    I risked dashing to the vanity sink and washing the balls
quickly, praying all the while that no one would enter and discover what I was
doing. Wouldn’t that be a kicker to the evening, I thought.
    Luck was on my side, for a change, and I managed to get the
toy cleaned, dried, wrapped and tucked away in my handbag. I applied some lip
gloss to replace what Gibson had kissed away. I pushed aside that memory, but
man, he really knew how to kiss a woman.
    I fussed around with my hair, then sat down on the
beautifully-upholstered bench that was positioned against one wall of the room.
There were some magazines arranged on the side table, but I didn’t bother with
them. I wouldn’t have registered a thing I read or saw, anyway.
    Where was he? How long did it take to say you have to leave?
I didn’t dare stick my head out of the door to look around.
    Just then, my phone buzzed in my purse. I snatched it up. It
was a text. From Elaine.
    Elaine wrote: “Holy crap! U ok?”
    I responded: “I know. Caught red handed. But fine. Where’s
M? Is he still with u?”
    Elaine was quick with her reply: “Arguing with Ron about
paying bill. Both want 2 pay. Not noticing me. M said u r sick. RU sick?”
    I wrote: “In a manner of speaking. M is furious. G is