A Dom is Forever (Masters and Mercenaries #3)(19)

Neither of them was quite as beautiful as Lee. Had she made a mistake? Should she have gone after him?

She’d never been kissed like that. Not in her entire life. It was like the whole world had melted away and nothing mattered or was even real except for him. She’d clung to him, wrapping herself around him, trusting him to hold her up. She’d made a baby with her husband, but nothing had prepared her for Lee’s kiss.

She was still shaking just thinking about it.

“Hey, babe,” Adam said, dropping the bag on the counter. “Guess what? Our little neighbor found a boyfriend and then accused him of whoredom, but not before she sampled the goods.”

Jake’s jaw dropped a little. “Are you serious? How did he handle that?”

A long look passed between them. Adam seemed to be holding in a smile. He started pulling out a bottle of wine. “Not well from the looks of it. He seemed a little out of control if you ask me.”

“Nice,” Jake shot back. He had his hand over his phone. “So you need to talk to Avery here and make sure she’s okay, right?”

Avery shook her head. “I’m fine.”

“She’s on the verge of tears,” Jake said, staring at her. “Oh, verge broken. Honey, you’re crying. You need a glass of wine and a shoulder to cry on. Why don’t you tell Adam what happened? He’s good at fixing bad situations. He gets himself into them so often.”

She didn’t miss the quiet finger Adam shot his partner’s way, but he was all smiles when he turned to her. “I can help.”

“So it’s settled,” Jake said. “You take care of Avery and I’ll take care of that other little project we have going on.”

Adam went red. “You son of a…yes, dear. I suppose you should handle that now. I need to get dinner on. Yours might be poisoned.”

But Jake was talking into his phone again, utterly ignoring Adam. “Yeah. I understand, boss. No problem. I can be there in twenty. No, he’s got some work to do. He won’t be coming with me. He won’t be coming at all.”

Adam closed his eyes briefly, but when he opened them, he smiled her way. “Come on, sweetheart. We can soldier on without Jake. Have a glass of wine. I’ve been assured this Chianti is perfect. Sit at the bar and keep me company while I cook.”

Jake was out the door with a little wave.

The truth was Jake made her a little nervous. But still, she had the feeling something had just happened between the two men, and she hoped she wasn’t the cause. “I can go back to my place.”

Adam was back to his perfectly polite self. “Not at all. The little task Jake is taking care of only really needs one of us. I would rather hear about what happened to you today.”

She took a sip of the wine. It was rich on her tongue. Her tongue. She’d felt out of control when his tongue had slid against hers. “I met this man today.”

Adam took a drink before he pulled out his cutting board and set himself to slicing veggies. “I could tell. What’s his name and why did you decide he was a member of the world’s oldest profession?”

“His name is Lee Donnelly, and he seemed to like me,” she tried to explain.

“And that makes him a hustler?”

“Guys don’t like me.” She was blushing again. “I haven’t had a date in ten years.”

“You’re kidding.” He stopped in mid-chop. “Why?”

She shrugged. “No one asked me.”

There was more to it, but she didn’t want Adam’s pity. Well, she didn’t want sympathy past the whole “she couldn’t get a date to save her life” thing. That was pathetic enough.

“I don’t understand that, Avery.” Adam went back to the celery. “What’s wrong with the men in New York?”

“I think they like prettier girls.” And girls who hadn’t spent most of their adult lives in hospitals. And girls who hadn’t been in deep mourning for years.

“We need to work on your self-esteem, sweetheart.” Adam looked at her thoughtfully. “You’re pretty. You just don’t know it. And you don’t dress for your body type.”

She glanced down at her somewhat shapeless sweater and jeans. “It’s comfortable.”

“Yeah, well, comfort doesn’t always equal sex appeal. And a V-neck sweater would be just as comfortable, but it wouldn’t cut your torso off the way that crew neck does. You’re a C-cup, right?”

He seemed to know a lot about boobs for a gay guy. She was a thirty-six C. “Yes. Why?”

“Because your boobs are too big for a crew neck or for those turtlenecks you wear. You need some skin to balance them out. And your skin, by the way, is quite lovely. You should show more of it. And I would buy some jeans with a little bling on the backside. You have a nice butt.”

“I do?” She hadn’t really taken much stock of her butt except for the fact that she’d been forced to sit on it for years. “I thought it was a little big.”

When he grinned like that, she almost wondered if there wasn’t some bisexual in there. It seemed an insult to women everywhere that he slept with men. “Not at all. Men like a little junk in the trunk, if you know what I mean. Well, straight guys do. I think it’s fair to say that your hustler was into you for something other than cash. Did he get you to pay for lunch?”