Operation Gigolo. Vicki Lewis Thompson
her.
“Come on, Tony. I’m working on a concept here.”
He sighed and took off the tie.
“Now unbutton the first three or four buttons of your shirt, and mess up your hair.”
“Mess up my—” He looked at her as if she’d gone totally bonkers.
She got up and came around the desk. “Like this.” She rubbed her fingers vigorously over his scalp.
“Hey!” He leaped back. “Who are you and what have you done with Lynn?”
“That’s not quite the look I had in mind.” She started toward him.
He backed up a step. “Stay away from me, woman.”
“Oh, relax. And hold still. This will just take a minute.” Grasping his shoulder to keep him near her, she reached up and combed her fingers through his hair so it fell over his forehead, giving him a look of careless nonchalance instead of his usual combed-back, businesslike style. She was pleasantly surprised by the silky feel of his hair and the solid muscles under his dress shirt. She prolonged the task a little.
He smelled good, she noticed, catching a whiff of an after-shave that she’d always associated with him but never allowed herself to consider sexy. “Now for the buttons,” she said, undoing the first four.
“Lynn, is this a seduction?” Tony asked.
“Nope.”
“Didn’t think so. You’re beginning to worry me.”
“I just want to check something out.” She stepped back, hands on hips, to survey her work.
The transformation was remarkable. Gone was the up-and-coming young lawyer who spent his days immersed in legal briefs and courtroom procedure, the man who always arrived at the office early and left late, a bundle of files under his arm. This Tony was hot. He looked as if he had one thing on his mind, and it certainly didn’t involve paperwork. A tremor of sexual desire shook her poise. Michelle must have gone to stupid school.
But the main thing was that Tony would be perfect for her scheme. She looked up at him and smiled. “Tony, how about if you—”
“Don’t even go there.” He shook his head and backed away. “I was afraid that was where you were headed. I failed drama class in high school. Performances aren’t my long suit.” He started refastening the buttons on his shirt.
“Are you joking? You’re a lawyer!”
He smiled at that. “Yeah, but we’re talking about something a lot more complicated.”
“No, we’re not. You put on a show every time you step into that courtroom. This would just be a different kind. I said I might need your services. Turns out I do.”
“I meant legal services.” He reached for the tie he’d thrown over the back of the chair.
“I don’t need legal services. I need a sexy-looking guy for Operation Gigolo. To my surprise, you’d do very nicely.”
He stopped in the act of knotting his tie and gazed at her. “To your surprise? That’s not very flattering.”
She blushed. “Well, I just never thought of you in that way, because you’re always so…so polished-looking.” So married.
“Polished-looking. As in slick?” He finished with the tie and picked up his jacket.
“No. You look perfectly wonderful, like an ad from GQ.”
“Some women go for that type.”
“Of course they do!”
“But you don’t?” He put on his jacket and adjusted the lapels.
“I didn’t say that.” Damn, this was a bog she hadn’t intended to get into. Six months after a divorce was a prime time for a rebound attraction, and she didn’t want to be the target for that sort of temporary affair. “I just—we’re way off the subject here. Tony, please help me out. It won’t take much of your time to meet my parents. Once they see you, they’ll start a campaign to break us up, which will bring them together again. They can succeed in breaking us up, and then I’ll conveniently miscarry the love child, and life will return to normal. I happen to know you haven’t taken much time off lately.”
“And to remedy that, you’re offering me a fun-filled trip to Springfield, where I get to act like a jerk and hopefully get pitched out of your parents’ house on my butt? Gee, you sure know how to tempt a guy.”
“Actually, I wasn’t thinking of Springfield. Ever been to Sedona, Arizona?”
“Nope. Just seen pictures of all those red rocks. Pretty impressive.”
“It is. And my parents honeymooned there. The summer rush would be over now, so I probably could get reservations at the same cottages on the banks of Oak Creek where they stayed thirty-five years ago. I’m sure I can convince them that they have to come,” she said, patting her stomach.
He looked more interested at the prospect of going to Sedona. “What if your folks demand separate sleeping accommodations?”
“I’ll tell them they have to share because there were only two available when I called.” She folded her arms and repressed a smile of triumph. As a lawyer she’d learned to read expressions, and she could see that Tony was beginning to consider her idea. “What do you say? An all-expense-paid long weekend in a beautiful spot in exchange for wearing tight jeans and flexing your muscles.”
He hesitated. “Is your dad a violent man?”
“Absolutely not. He might try to talk you to death, but he wouldn’t challenge you to a fistfight or anything, if that’s what you mean. I promise this is low risk.”
“You don’t have somebody else who could do this? I thought you were dating a guy named Edgar.”
She grimaced. “I was, but in the first place my parents have met him, and in the second place, I broke it off a couple of months ago, and in the third place, Edgar could never play a convincing stud-muffin.”
“Is that right?” He looked pleased with the information.
“That’s right.” Tony was awfully cute, she thought, cuter than she’d allowed herself to realize.
“I don’t know.” He glanced at her. “It’ll take a lot to rub the polish off, don’t you think?”
Thinking about turning him into a modern-day James Dean sent delicious shivers through her. Transforming Tony. What a fun concept. “No, I don’t think it’ll take all that much,” she said. “Although it would be helpful if you had a tattoo.”
“It would, huh?”
“Yeah, but I wouldn’t expect that kind of sacrifice. Maybe we could try one of those temporary kinds.” She waited, hoping he was as intrigued by the whole charade concept as she was.
“Okay, I’ll do it.”
She smiled. “Thanks, Tony. You’re a real friend. I’ll let you know when I’ve made the arrangements. Is there any weekend I should avoid?”
“Not really. My social calendar isn’t what you’d call jammed.”
So he wasn’t dating anyone yet, she thought. He really was ripe for a rebound affair. She’d have to be careful. “It takes time after a divorce.”
“Yeah. But hey, things are looking up. I’ve just been invited to spend a long weekend with a beautiful woman.”
She laughed, as if he’d made a joke, but it didn’t feel like a joke. “Thanks for the compliment.” She liked having him call her beautiful, but she couldn’t encourage him to think there could be something between them. “But I’m afraid it’ll be a platonic weekend.”
He