Page 11 of His Virgin Vessel

"... clinging to you like a limpet. Then you take her back to your place for half an hour and come out looking flushed. But nothing happened. All very innocent."

"Fine, don't believe me."

"I don't," said Fiona. "I'm struggling to figure out why you can't talk about this one. What makes her different?"

That was a question worth asking. What did make Corinne different?

"Look," Fiona continued. "The girl likes you, yeah?"

"Maybe."

"Quit playing dumb. She's crazy about you. They always are. I bet she'd do anything you ask. So, ask her to find out where her dad keeps the book and steal it for you."

There was no doubt in my mind that if I asked Corinne to do that, she would. Partly to please me, but mostly to anger her father. Why should I care if Brian Dugas had a bad relationship with his daughter? The man was, after all, trying to stick me behind bars. But that was his job, and I'd broken the law, and that was the way it went. Dragging family into it was different. You didn't do that. I didn't have the greatest of childhoods. My dad's drinking made him violent, and that drove my mom to drink, and neither of them much wanted me. War Cry gave me a family—not a good one, but better than the one I was born into.

From Corinne's behavior, I could guess that Brian Dugas maybe hadn't been the perfect dad, but I'd have laid odds that he was better than mine. He was a trier, and even if he had failed where Corinne was concerned, you had to rate a man for trying. I had a scar on my head from where my dad cracked a bottle over it. That was the only thing he gave me that I’d kept. However screwed up Corinne's relationship with her old man might be, I didn’t want to screw it up further. I knew firsthand how that worked out, and the world didn’t need any more people like me.

"Her dad trusts her about as much as he trusts me," I said to Fiona, which wasn't all a lie. "No chance of her getting the book. We need another plan."

"Do you have one?"

I was about to answer when the door to the bar opened and in walked Corinne Dugas. With one thing happening after another, I hadn't had much of a chance to look at her last night, and I took the opportunity now. She really was a stunning girl, with an attractive tangle of wavy red hair piled up on her head, bright green eyes, pale skin, and a cupid's bow of a mouth. She was wearing a short denim skirt that hugged her tight backside and showed about nine feet of bare, shapely legs, taut, toned, and accentuated by heeled boots. A vest top hung loosely on her frame, with no evidence of a bra to support her high, firm breasts. It occurred to me that I really shouldn't be taking this much interest in the girl I had very much rebuffed last night. It wouldn't end well for either of us. But it was impossible to ignore the thumping desire that was welling up from within. The damn girl looked incredible, and I wanted her so badly I could taste it.

"Something wrong?" asked Fiona, who had her back to the door.

"Nothing," I said, as Corinne spotted me and gave me a cheeky little wave. She might be in her twenties, but with Brian Dugas for a father she was still jailbait to me. I turned my attention back to my dinner companion. If Corinne wouldn't take no for an answer, then perhaps there was another way. I reached across the table to take Fiona's hand.

"Have I told you how good you’re looking since I got back?"

Fiona looked at me quizzically. "No, but you very seldom do."

"I should. You're a very beautiful woman, Fiona."

Fiona looked more bemused than flattered. "Is this just because you didn't nail the girl last night?"

As subtly as possible, I kept an eye on Corinne and was gratified to see the petulant expression on her face. She stamped towards the bar like a teenager who didn’t get her own way.

"It's been a while since you and I ..." I let the sentence hang.

Fiona nodded. "It has. But I'll be damned if I'm going to be a surrogate for the Dugas girl. When you're with me, I expect you to be thinking of me. I'm not that hard-up, Asa. You may not believe it, but there are other men in my life."

"I don't doubt that for a second," I said. But I was now becoming distracted. Corinne had sidled up to a man at the bar, an irritatingly handsome guy in his mid-twenties, and was flirting coquettishly. As she sat, her skirt rode even further up her thighs, and I thought I caught a glimpse of red underwear before she crossed her legs.

"How about a dance?" I suggested to Fiona.

"What is going on with you? We haven't danced in years."

"Then it's past time."

"You're a lousy dancer, Asa," Fiona said, shaking her head. "I hate to be the one to tell you, but you've got two left feet."

"It never used to bother you back in the day."

"That's because you were very good at something else, and dancing was kind of the prelude."

"Well, then." I stood and offered her my hand. I wasn't sure what was on the jukebox, but whatever it was would do.

"Look, I've got a bar to run," said Fiona, coming close to laughing in my face. "I know it's not exactly busy, but ..." Before I could stop her, she had looked past me to the bar and a smile spread over her face. "I see. Well, that's no way to treat a girl."

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