Page 16 of Good Girl's Bad Lessons

“It’s complimentary,” she said.

“Thanks.”

“Your first time in here?” the woman asked with a smug look on her pretty face.

“Yes, can you tell?” Emma glanced around. Even though the place was half dead as night fell outside, the see-through walls with the view of jets arriving and departing outside still intimidated her.

Nico had gone to talk to someone, and she’d been playing with her phone. The way the female attendants glanced his way completely dismissed her presence. She clenched her fists, and irritation throbbed in her ears. Jealousy? She snorted, willing the stupid idea away. No, simply common sense.

Of course they were in a fake relationship, but really, those women didn’t know that. From the receptionist to the bartender who tended to only a few clients, each one of them had shown an eagerness Emma doubted had been just because of the fat tips he gave them.

“You’re here with Mr. Giordano?” She angled closer.

Emma nodded.

The bartender gave her a slow smile that didn’t seem all that amusing. “Enjoy.”

Enjoy while it lasts. Emma read between the lines. She clenched her fists tighter, her fingernails biting into her skin. “Does he bring a lot of women here?” she asked, before she could stop herself.

The bartender looked to the sides, as if to make sure no one heard her, then said, “All the time. I never get to see them a second time, though. Seems like he’s a one and done type of guy.”

“Well, my situation with him is different,” Emma said. I had to convince him to sleep with me, for starters. She flexed her fingers, but her muscles remained stiff. How pathetic. If anything, pondering her situation made her feel even worse. The women he brought with him came because he wanted them there—not because of a deal.

The woman rolled her eyes. “I’m sure it is. That’s what the girl last month said, too.” She shrugged. “Anyway, enjoy the tea. Have fun on your trip,” she said, then sashayed to the other end of the bar to help another customer.

Emma shook her head, hoping to squash the anger creeping under her skin. How dare she? And if her heart were involved, how bitter of the bartender to assume their relationship wouldn’t last.

She left the bar area, and returned to her oversize seat. She opened her bag and retrieved her cell phone. Emma stared at the picture she’d saved from Simon’s most recent Facebook post. He’d arrived in Venezuela for his missionary trip, wearing one of the T-shirts she’d bought him a couple of months prior. The special material, a wicking fabric, kept the body cool and dry even in the heat. She’d bought a few of them and given them to him after he’d told her about his trip.

Was he just being a guy and wearing that T-shirt because of the good quality, or did he take it with him because she’d bought it for him?

She crossed her legs then uncrossed them. One of the reasons she favored pants was not having to worry about the perfect sitting pose to keep strangers from zooming in on her crotch.

“The mechanic is finishing his routine inspection on the jet. Shouldn’t be too long now,” Nico said, approaching her.

She gazed past him and found the bartender drying a glass and glancing at his behind. Not that Emma blamed her, but damn. Did she have to be so obvious?

She wants what I have or what she thinks I have. Emma had lived in Los Angeles her entire life and excelled at recognizing women and men with an agenda. If the bartender wanted to make her feel like shit and rile her up, she wouldn’t give her the satisfaction. “Nico.”

He sat next to her and was about to reach for his leather briefcase when she touched his leg. “Emma,” he said, using the same rushed tone she’d used calling his name.

She glanced behind him, the bartender studying them with her eyebrow raised. “Kiss me.”

Chapter Six

Kiss me.

Before he could register her words, she slid on top of him and lowered her lips to his. What the hell? He opened his mouth, tangling his tongue with hers, his heartbeat quickly accelerating. Maybe he could file this in the lesson about spontaneity.

They’d avoided public displays of affection so far. Number one because they didn’t want anyone to see them and know about their temporary affair. And number two, what affection? He liked her, sure, but not in an affectionate way. Such feeling would be futile, especially after she seemed so shocked when he’d told her about his vasectomy.

Sweet Emma wanted marriage and kids, and he couldn’t offer her either—even if he wished to do so. He’d seen firsthand what great passion did to a man—and he was far too much like his damaged father not to do the same. Besides, what kind of dad would he be given the crappy example he’d had as a child? And, shit, he hadn’t even been able to protect his own brother.

Emma linked her arms around him, and any rationalization went out the window. He intensified the rhythm of the kiss, her moan reverberating inside him. His cock throbbed, and he doubted he’d be able to stand without exposing his hard-on. She shifted on his lap, bringing them to a sinful position that could land them both in jail.

“Emma, piccola mia…”

The warmth from her pussy sifted through the material of her skirt.

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