Read Gambling on Love (Stories of Serendipity #6) for Free Online

illness? Cancer? Heart Disease? Weird genetic stuff?”
    He shook his head leisurely, side to side, in a hypnotic rhythm as Kathy spoke. His hand reached for hers, and she found herself watching, trance-like, as his finger made little swirly designs on her palm.
    “Ahem. ‘Kay. Are you clean? As in STD’s? Of course, we’ll be tested, if you pass the first two rounds of questioning.”
    “Why all the questions? Why not just pay me and get it done. I can make sure it’s pleasurable for both parties. It’s what I do.” His finger continued tracing lines on her palm, sending little shivers up her arm.
    She was prepared for some men to ask why she asked her questions, but the second part of his statement gave her pause. “Excuse me?”
    “Why do you need to know all this stuff for one amazing night?”
    “So that I can know that I’ve done all I can to have a healthy child. If you have a history of men dying in their thirties of a heart-attack in your family, you’ll drop down on the list.” She waved her hand impatiently with her explanation, releasing his grip. “What did you mean, it’s what you do?”
    His smile was seductive. “I do this all the time, although I’ve rarely had so many questions thrown at me on the first round. Sure, some people are nervous, if it’s their first time, but I can make you forget your nerves.” His knee rested against hers now, and distracted her further. She shook her head to clear the lust fog this man was putting her under.
    “You’re a prostitute?” Kathy sputtered. She wasn’t surprised; this was Vegas after all. She’d heard they were everywhere. But she’d never really thought male prostitutes looked so…so…hot.
    As if he could read her thoughts, his mouth curled into a smirk before he replied, “I prefer the term escort.”
    Kathy thought about that. If worse came to worse, it was a possibility, but she really didn’t want to have to tell her child that their father was someone who regularly got paid for sex. Never mind that she was stooping to pay someone to father her child, but it was the principle of the thing. She made a notation and looked at the man again.
    “I have your number and will call you if no other suitable men are to be found.”
    He nodded and stood.
    “By the way, how much do you charge?” He told her, and she nearly choked. It was three times what she’d been planning to pay. And she’d thought she was being generous.
    “I’ve been told I’m worth every penny.” His voice had dropped to a panty-melting register, and Kathy nodded, as he sauntered away.
    “I’m sure you are…”
    Three hours and twelve men later, Kathy was sporting a headache that would put her worst hangover to shame. Most were either too old, too homeless, or too spaced out to know what to do with their tool, if she even gave them the opportunity. Two of them had been all three.
    She had liked Marvin, in a grandfatherly way, but he probably wouldn’t be able to get it up more than once, if he didn’t have a heart attack in the meantime. Ideally, she would like a man who could do it more than once in their time together, to give her a better chance at getting pregnant.
    And she didn’t have a problem with homeless people, per se. They were usually just tragic victims of circumstances, or that’s what she chose to believe, anyway. But it was just so hard to get past the dirt and grime and odor to see what lie beneath. And she wasn’t totally sure they were being honest with her.
    She stopped pinching the bridge of her nose to see a man standing at her booth, looking at her expectantly. He was above average height, wore a soft pink polo shirt that had come untucked in front, and khaki shorts. Loafers on his feet completed his preppy look. His light brown hair looked like somebody had run their hands through it, and Kathy felt a little more optimistic about her day. He flashed her a friendly smile and held out his hand.
    “Hi. I’m Darrin. I believe I’m