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  Frawley and Sons was indeed running in the black as it had done for nearly every year but a few bad ones here and there. I remembered those as the years of scant Christmases and birthdays. The first year I’d taken over from my dad had threatened to be a bad one, too, but I’d made it work by sacrificing my apartment off grounds and moving into the home and finagling some tax breaks like a “company” car. Having a best friend who was an expert accountant had helped a lot.

  My personal bank account wasn’t overflowing, but looking at it didn’t make me want to scream, either. With no rent and sundries like electricity, Internet and car payments filtered through the business, my monthly living expenses were extremely low. I paid my staff well but not extravagantly, in the midrange of recommended salaries. I paid myself the same, and they knew it. They also knew I’d be the first to take a pay cut should the need arise.

  Even with the moderate pay scale, the perks of sharing my expenses with my business meant I had more discretionary income than many of my friends. Yet unlike them I didn’t stock up on clothes or expensive toys like TVs or stereos. I didn’t go on vacation. I bought my groceries from the Amish-run Bangs, Bumps and Bargains store. I wasn’t a big spender…except for my excursions with Mrs. Smith’s gentlemen.

  I looked over the last year’s entries. Even though my dad had hinted I wasn’t responsible or organized, I kept careful track of all my income and expenses. I had entries for every date including the cost of my companion’s time and the fees covering where we’d gone or what we’d done. The least I’d spend in one month was twenty dollars for an initial meeting over coffee to see if the escort I wanted to hire would suit, to a few hundred for a series of dates with a guy named Armando who was particularly skilled with his hands.

  I blinked at the screen and sat back against the couch I’d bought in college from the Salvation Army. Nine hundred and seventy-nine dollars and forty-three cents. We’d gone to dinner, the movies, dancing, the museum. I’d paid for four nights in the Dukum Inn. Four nights in one month. It seemed like nothing if you compared it to how many times a dating couple might make love. I’d seen him once a week, and it had cost me less than if I’d had rent and utilities and a car payment.

  That had been the most, and even now I considered it money well spent. I studied the numbers. Women paid what I considered outrageous sums of money for someone to cut their hair, or do their nails, to buy the latest clothes and face creams. Hell, a good massage cost nearly as much as an hour with Jack and with him, at least, I was guaranteed a happy ending of the sort not found in Disney cartoons.

  I looked around my bare apartment. It could use some paint and pictures. Some real, grown-up furniture. I looked again at the screen. Framed art and throw pillows didn’t have quite the same appeal as being fucked up against a wall until I screamed.

  Then again, I thought with a grin as I dialed a now-familiar number, not much did.

  Chapter 09

  My beeper went off two minutes after Jack buried his face between my thighs. I groaned, reaching for it. He paused and looked up at me as I looked at the number on the screen. My voice mail, the after-hours call line. For the first time ever, I wished I’d put Jared on first call.

  Naked, Jack crouched between my legs with one hand on his cock. I sat on the motel’s straight-back chair with my skirt hiked up to my hips and my panties in a crumpled pile on the floor.

  “Do you need to get that?”

  “In a minute.” I was so close already, it would take only a few minutes more. Even if I hadn’t been already primed by half an hour of dirty talk on the cell phone while I drove to meet him, Jack’s tongue would have sent me over the edge pretty fast.

  He smiled and kissed my thigh. He jerked himself as he licked me. I touched the top of his head, that silky dark hair that tickled, and watched the motion of his shoulder as he stroked his cock. Fast, then faster as my hips pushed forward and I fisted my fingers into his hair.

  We came at the same time. I bit the heel of my hand to muffle my cry, but Jack groaned without holding back. I smelled the musky scent of his come and it urged another small yelp from me. Using condoms was necessary and not negotiable for sex, but he wasn’t wearing one now. It had made my own orgasm harder, imagining how it had felt for him to pump his bare flesh without the barrier.

  Jack kissed my cunt, surprising me with the tender gesture, and sat back. His prick had softened, lying across his thigh. His hand gleamed, wet. I sat up, head a little woozy, and pulled my skirt down.

  “I have to answer this,” I told him.

  Jack nodded and got up, ambling to the bathroom. I dialed my voice mail. From inside the bathroom I heard the whoosh of the shower turning on. I typed in my password.

  By the time I hung up, Jack had emerged from a cloud of steam rapidly dissipating in the bathroom. He wore a towel slung low over his hips and had slicked his hair off his face. He gave me a curious look as I shut my phone.

  “I have to go.” I stood and shook my skirt down, then grabbed my panties. When I straightened, he was there, still flushed and warm and damp.

  “Okay.” He held my arm to help me balance as I stood on one foot to pull on my undies.

  I gave myself a quick once-over in the mirror over the dresser. He watched over my shoulder. I turned to face him.

  “Thanks, Jack.”

  “You’re welcome.” His lips curved a little. “So much for cuddling.”

  I laughed. “Yeah. Another time.”

  He nodded and followed me to the door, where I paused to pull an envelope from my purse. “You didn’t ask for this in advance again.”

  “Grace,” Jack said, taking it. “You told me to be naked and on my knees when you got here. Where would I have put it?”

  “Good point.” Thinking about it now made my still-damp cunt clench.

  “Besides. I trust you.”

  We looked at each other. Jack’s smile teased one from me and for one moment we both leaned in a microscopic amount. I stopped first. Instead of kissing him, I cupped his cheek for a moment, and he turned his face to press his lips to my palm.

  “Thanks again.”

  “No problem,” Jack said. “I aim to please.”

  “Your aim is good.”

  He laughed. “Your jokes are bad.”

  I had to go. Had business to take care of. A family to help. Yet, I lingered, and so did he, and though I wasn’t naive enough to think it had nothing to do with money, I couldn’t help thinking it might have something to do, instead, with me.

  And it was that thought that made me push away at last, leaving him in the doorway of a cheap motel wearing nothing but a thin white towel.

  I’d known the Johnsons for years. Though we’d never been close, Beth had been in my class at school. Her older brother, Jim, had been a friend of my brother Craig’s. Her parents, Peggy and Ron, had been active participants in the band boosters and had often given me a ride home from school after different activities. Today, though, only Beth, Jim and Peggy were there.

  Ron had passed away after a long battle with cancer.

  Peggy Johnson looked pale and thinner than the last time I’d seen her, but she wore bright lipstick and had fixed her hair. She smiled at me as she came in, and took the hand I offered before pulling me closer for a friendly hug that took me a little by surprise.

  “Look at you,” she said. “My goodness, Grace, you’re so grown up.”

  Beth frowned. “Mom. We’re the same age!”

  “I know, I know, but…” Peggy turned to her daughter and tweaked her silky shell top.

  “You’re my baby.”

  Jim rolled his eyes. “What am I, chopped liver?”

  “Of course not. You’re my baby, too.” Peggy tugged the knot of his tie and turned back to me. The too-bright gleam in her eyes was the only sign of her distress. “So. Let’s get to this, okay? I’ve got guests coming in from out of town and I have to go to the grocery store.”

  Her children exchanged looks, an