She asked him about Sydney, and he saw no reason not to tell her which restaurants he liked. She seemed eager to hear about the best galleries in town, something else he wasn't expecting. When he asked her what sort of art she liked, hoping to catch her out, she quickly rattled off some of her favorites.
"Actually, any of the French Impressionists. Which is why I want to visit Paris." She smiled. "The Musée d'Orsay has a fabulous collection, so I hear."
He smiled back, genuinely pleased with her answer. "You know, I didn't think masseurs were the type of people to go to art galleries."
He thought he saw her flinch but it was covered quickly by a defiant toss of her head. "You shouldn't judge a book by its cover."
Nick's gut tightened. She was right, he wasn't being fair. But he was damned if he was going to apologize. Nick Delaware was not the sort of man to apologize to a hooker for thinking she was out of place in an art gallery. And he'd best remember that before he got carried away by this woman's charm.
Their meals arrived, saving him from making any further comments, or apologies. They ate in silence, broken only by occasional chatter. Once their plates were collected, Abbey checked her watch.
"Time to go?" As soon as he said it, Nick cringed. He didn't want to appear too eager to get back to the hotel. On the other hand, he didn't want to appear too casual either, in case she decided he wasn't interested enough. Damn it, this woman was tying his brain into knots-he needed to regain his control, and fast.
"Nearly," she said with a cheeky smile.
Their coffees arrived and he stirred in a spoonful of sugar. He was replacing the spoon on the saucer when he felt something at his crotch. He jumped, bumping the table, splashing coffee into the saucer.
He glanced up at Abbey to see if she'd noticed, and was met with a wicked smile. Again something touched him, and this time he didn't jump. He knew what it was-Abbey's bare toes.
Thank God for long tablecloths.
The toes moved around his bulge, feeling, prodding, stroking. She was extremely dexterous, because her toes caught his zip and slowly began pulling it down.
He gasped and a hot rush of blood flooded his face. He swallowed and looked at Abbey. She was no longer smiling but concentrating on her task. She stared straight back at him, boldly, and that only made him more excited.
The toes ducked into his open trousers and rubbed his erection, only the thin fabric of his shorts between his flesh and hers. The pain and pleasure was excruciating. He wanted to take himself out of the shorts and let her have free reign but common sense told him not to be ridiculous. What if someone came over? He shouldn't have let it get this far. He shouldn't be doing this. He shouldn't...oh, what the Hell, it felt too good to stop now.
Nick closed his eyes and let the sensations course through his body. He heard someone moan-himself?-and bent his head forward.
She felt good. Damn good. Her toes stroked, an endless circular motion that quickened his pulse. He sat forward on his seat, bringing himself closer to her foot.
She had managed to get his trousers even wider apart and she was massaging him, up and down the hard length caught inside his shorts. It pleaded with him to be released from its tight prison. As it grew and expanded, he had no choice-he reached under the tablecloth, not totally aware of what he was doing, and fumbled the button on his shorts.
His erection sprung out, and he heard Abbey gasp. He looked up at her and the lust in her eyes told him she was enjoying this as much as he was. Both her hands were below the table and he wondered whether she was touching herself.
The thought that she might be made him harder, hotter.
Her toes caressed him, lightly at first then, as if detecting his need, she rubbed her foot against the base before caressing the shaft all the way to the tip. The movement made him pant.
"Abbey!"
The angry voice above him sent a jolt through Nick. The foot suddenly stopped rubbing and he heard a quick intake of breath from Abbey. He looked up, trying to control his breathing, and stared straight into the eyes of a man.
Jealous eyes.
The man glanced from him to Abbey.
"Tarken!" She stared wide-eyed up at the newcomer. "What the Hell are you doing here?" There was frustration in her voice, but no indication on her face of what she'd just been doing under the table. Nick hoped he looked just as composed.
"Having dinner. Who's he?" The man, Tarken, jerked his thumb in Nick's direction.
"None of your business."
"None of my business? Abbey, come on, I-"
"She said it's none of your business," said Nick, keeping his voice low. "Now leave."
He hoped Tarken didn't have enough guts to challenge him. Nick couldn't get up-he was still protruding from his shorts.