The Kiss Quotient (The Kiss Quotient #1)(76)

Stella began to speak, but he grabbed her hand and shook his head slightly. He really didn’t need these people to know he did dry cleaning and alterations all day. It was bad enough it was the truth.

No, it wasn’t bad. He wasn’t ashamed of it. It was good, honest work—fuck it. What sense was there in lying to himself? Sitting next to all these people with their fancy educations and exorbitant wealth, yes, he was ashamed. He wasn’t the kind of man anyone would pair with someone like Stella.

“So . . . you do nothing?” Philip asked with a look of disbelief.

Michael schooled his features into nonchalance and shrugged. “More or less.” His mom’s illness was none of their fucking business, and he didn’t want the whole table looking at him with pity.

Matching grimaces crossed Edward’s and Philip’s faces, and Michael clenched his jaw. They probably thought he wanted to marry Stella for her money. Didn’t they know Stella was too smart for that kind of shit? When she fell in love, it would be with someone who was her match.

“I’d go crazy with boredom.” Philip’s expression turned thoughtful as he looked at Stella. “You can’t stand inactivity, can you, Stella? You’re driven, and you like knowing your work has an impact on the world. It’s why we get along so well.”

“It’s true I like working,” Stella allowed, but she cast a worried look at Michael.

“Ed, you should have seen what she did with the last project we worked on together,” Philip said. “She came at the problem in a way I’d never seen before and is single-handedly revolutionizing the way online vendors market to their customers.”

“I’m sure she couldn’t have done it without your help, Phil.” Stella’s dad grasped Philip’s shoulder fondly. So these two already knew one another? Were they golf partners or some shit? Fifteen different ways to chuck a man flitted through Michael’s mind. And what was this about her needing Philip? Stella didn’t need anyone. Not even Michael, not anymore. He wasn’t sure if she ever had.

A genuine smile curved over Stella’s lips. “That’s actually true. We work well together.”

Really. He hated the idea of her working with Philip and liking any part of it. The bastard should have irritated her as much as he did Michael. He was hit by the juvenile desire to kiss her publicly and stake his claim on her, and he removed his hand from hers before he could act. She didn’t notice. She was still smiling at Philip—her real smile, the one he usually got to himself. Fuck if that didn’t hurt like getting one of his balls torn off.

“She’s one of the few who can tolerate me. I know I’m an asshole. I have standards, and I can’t stand laziness and ineptitude.” Philip sent a telling glance Michael’s way.

Michael took a deep breath and released it slowly. He searched the walls of the room for a clock. How much more of this did he have to withstand?

The conversation at the table veered down the path of economic theory and advanced statistics, and he watched with a sinking sensation as Stella opened up and began talking. She had said to stop her if she started talking about work, but she was loving it. It was so clearly her passion in life. Michael didn’t want to deny her. Philip, for all his supposed assholishness, kept up with her in a way Michael never could.

He was reminded of that kiss. She’d said she hadn’t liked it and that Philip was annoying, but she certainly wasn’t minding interacting with him now.

Michael couldn’t help observing that Stella and Philip made a good-looking couple. With their similar interests and backgrounds, they were nauseatingly perfect for one another. He remembered that it was Philip who had inspired Stella to hire an escort in the first place. She’d wanted to make Philip hers. Maybe—fuck, he hated thinking this—maybe she should.

At the end of the day, what Michael and Stella had was physical. They didn’t connect in this cerebral manner, and he knew how important it was that Stella’s mind was stimulated.

It sucked admitting it, but he wasn’t enough for her. On several different levels. She could never love him. Michael really was nothing but practice. As the economics conversation continued, a heartsick, organ-shredding feeling gripped him. Everything felt wrong. Even his skin felt off-size.

“Oh, I’m so glad Philip’s mother was able to make it,” Ann said.

A red-nailed hand rested on the back of the chair next to Michael, and a familiar combination of scents assailed his nose. Cinnamon and cigarettes. Ice cubes clinked before a lowball glass half-filled with whiskey was set on the table.

“Hello, darlings. Sorry I’m late.” A petite woman with long bleached blond hair and a tight black cocktail dress lowered herself into the empty seat. Her profile was turned to him, but Michael recognized her. He’d kissed that jaw. “I had to make a quick stop before—” She faced him, and her expression went as surprised as the Botox allowed. “Well, well, well, hello, Michael.”

“Hello, Aliza.” What an excellent time to bump into his least-favorite former client.





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24



“You two are acquainted? How wonderful is that.” Her mother clapped her hands together.

Stella felt like she was going to vomit. Philip’s mom was the woman from the club. She’d given Michael his car. The one he drove every day. The one he wouldn’t let Stella replace.