Free The Playboy's Proposition by Deena Ward Page B

gone.
FML.”
    She wrote: “Get ready. M&R worked it out. M is heading
your way. Good luck.”
    I entered, “Thx, TTYL,” just as Michael’s knock sounded on
the door. I dropped my phone into my purse.
    Michael didn’t say anything when I came out of the restroom.
He only shot me a stern look, then with his hand on the small of my back, ushered
me out of the building. We only had to wait a few minutes for the valet to
drive the car around. I managed the fine art of entering small sport cars
without embarrassing yourself much more easily than before. Practice made
perfect, I presumed.
    Michael peeled away from the curb and we zipped off into the
night. I didn’t say anything. I didn’t dare, really. I wasn’t certain what he
had overheard between me and Gibson. It was best to wait and see what he would
do.
    It didn’t take long.
    Michael asked, “Are you sleeping with Gibson Reeves?”
    “No, of course not,” I answered.
    “How do you know him?”
    “I think I mentioned when we first met that I knew him.”
    “Ummhmm. But I don’t think you were honest with me that
night. You knew him, you do know him, better than you said.”
    “Okay, you’re right. But I think you weren’t honest with me,
either. How well do you know him?”
    Michael exhaled loudly. “We’ll get to that later. Right now
I want answers from you. Honest answers.”
    I crossed my arms over my chest. “Fine.”
    “So how do you know him?”
    “I met him about a week before I met you. We had an ...
encounter. Then I saw him one more time, when we had another encounter. That’s
it. I haven’t seen him since then, until tonight. And we only spoke for a few
minutes, you know.”
    Michael held up a hand. “We’ll get to that. I want to know
what you mean by ‘encounter.’ Did he fuck you?”
    “I don’t know that I’m ever going to get used to this
crudity, Michael. I’ll admit that sometimes it turns me on, but right here, in
this context, you’re being extremely crude.”
    “Okay then. How about this ... has Gibson Reeves ever
inserted his penis into your vagina?”
    I sniffed to let him know that I didn’t appreciate his
sarcasm. I said, “It’s not actually your business who has and who hasn’t
inserted his penis in my vagina, you know. Shall I make a list of everyone I’ve
ever been with? We can go over them one by ...”
    He interrupted me by slamming his fist down violently on the
steering wheel and proclaiming angrily, “I don’t give a damn about any others!
Just Gibson Reeves! Has he fucked you?”
    His ferocity made me shrink back toward my door. I watched
him warily. He was driving too fast. Way too fast. This was making me nervous
now.
    I said, quietly, “Calm down, Michael. I think you should
pull over. You’re driving too fast. Please.”
    Michael turned his glare on me for an instant. Then with a
hard jerk, he downshifted and turned the car into the parking lot of a chain
drug store. My head clunked against the window of my door when he whipped into
a parking space and slammed on the brakes.
    “Happy?” he growled.
    “Yes, thank you,” I said, rubbing the side of my head.
    Michael’s hands were clenched tight on the steering wheel.
He stared straight ahead, his features hard and taut, illuminated by the glow
of the lights from the drug store.
    I waited in silence. He took a deep breath then exhaled
loudly. He reached down, put the transmission in neutral and pulled the
handbrake.
    Running his fingers through his long black hair, he tucked a
few escaped strands back behind his ears. He took another deep breath then
turned to me.
    He said, “I apologize for that, Nonnie. I was out of line.
And you were right, I shouldn’t have been driving so fast. Thank you for asking
me to stop. I wouldn’t ever want to endanger you.”
    “That’s okay,” I said.
    His pale blue wolf eyes nearly glowed. He seemed a little
sad when he said, “The fact is, none of this is really about you, or what
happened tonight,