Educating Gina

He chuckled. “Let’s get a whole pair for now, okay?”

WHY DID HE SET himself up for this kind of torture? Mike had never had masochistic tendencies before now. Why had he foolishly thought shopping would be easy with a woman who looked like Gina?

“What about these?” She pranced out of the dressing room and twirled around so that he wouldn’t miss the back view. “Do you like them?”

The faded denim was skintight and accentuated her narrow waist and full hips. Her belly was remarkably flat, considering how he’d seen her wolf down the entire cheeseburger and fries yesterday. Her rear end was round and perfect and begged for a man’s hands—his hands—to mold themselves over the taut curves.

“Mike, are you all right?” she asked, a worried frown wrinkling her brow.

As soon as his heart started again, he’d be fine. “I like the other pair better.”

“But they were too baggy.”

Exactly. “Can you even sit down in those?”

She grinned and walked toward him. “Do you want to see?”

Mike held up a hand. “Never mind.”

No telling what she’d do. He was sitting in the only seat outside the women’s dressing room, which made his lap the likely target for her demonstration. Oh, yeah, that would be great. It wasn’t as if they hadn’t attracted enough attention from the other Bloomingdale shoppers.

Both men and women eyed Gina as she modeled the different styles of jeans. She seemed oblivious to the mixture of envy and admiration in their stares. She was too excited about the whole prospect of shopping.

“I have one more pair to try on.” She spun toward the dressing-room door, then stopped and asked, “May I have two pairs? Per piacere…please?”

If he said no, two guys, who hadn’t once taken their eyes off her, would probably gladly buy her anything she wanted. A woman about his age who’d overheard Gina gave Mike a hostile look as if he was a vile controlling husband.

“Fine. Just hurry up.” He stood and got out his wallet. Antonio had given him a nice piece of change. Enough for the jeans and a dress—an appropriate dress, like maybe a muumuu. Hell, Mike would gladly pay for it himself.

She came out to show him the third pair, which looked so much like the last pair that he didn’t know she’d changed. At Gina’s request, the saleswoman cut off the tags so she could wear them out of the store.

After their purchases were wrapped and paid for, they headed for the escalator. They got as far as the lingerie department. Gina stopped and stared at the red and black silk G-strings on display.

Fear gripped the back of Mike’s neck. “Come on. We’re going to be late.”

Her eyes widened. “Central Park closes?”

“That’s not what I meant.”

Gina sidled up and took him by the arm. “Can we not stay for ten more minutes?”

He darted a look at the mannequin wearing the G-string and tried not to think about the way Gina rubbed the inside of his arm.

“Per piacere.” She made her lips look pouty. “I mean, please.”

“Just ten minutes.”

“I promise.” She smiled and then kissed his cheek.

An innocent touch that threatened a major hard-on. Oh, man, he was in bad shape. No way was he going to stand around and watch her select underwear. “I’ll wait for you on the first floor.”

Her expression fell. “Why?”

“Because I have something to do down there.” He reached into his pocket and withdrew some money. “Here.”

“Grazie, but I have my own money.” She lifted her chin and headed in the direction of the G-strings.

What had he done wrong? “Ten minutes,” he called. “At the bottom of the escalator.”

She waved without turning around, which was good enough for him. Let her get her G-string or whatever. He didn’t have to know what she wore under her clothes. And he didn’t have to subject himself to watching her select it.

He used the time to go to the washroom and splash his face with cold water. On the way back to the escalator, he stopped at the men’s cosmetic counter and squirted himself with one of the testers. The stuff smelled nasty, and he let out a rude grunt that netted him several stares. No wonder he never wore any of that junk.

With a minute to spare he arrived at the escalator. No sign of Gina yet. Not that he expected her to be early. She’d been like a kid in a candy store all morning, excited by simply trying on sunglasses. She’d explained that her mother didn’t allow unchaperoned shopping, which basically meant it wasn’t worth going.

Such strict rules and morals were hard to understand. Particularly since Gina seemed to be a good girl, genuinely concerned about what her parents and uncle thought. Even the way she’d wanted to dress had more to do with normal and healthy rebellion than attracting male attention.

That was the thing that floored Mike the most. She didn’t even get how hot she was, or that men tripped over themselves watching her walk across the street. She was more interested in gawking at shop windows and staring at young women with blue hair and navel rings.

He checked his watch. Eighteen minutes. No sign of her coming down the escalator. He’d give her another two and then drag her out of the store.

After another five minutes, he took the escalator steps two at a time up to the lingerie department. He didn’t see her, and flagged a saleswoman.

“I’m looking for my friend,” he said. “Petite, dark hair, pretty—”

She smiled. “Italian accent?”

“That’s her.” The relief he felt was ridiculous. She was probably still in a fitting room.

“Yes, she went that way.” The woman pointed in the opposite direction of the escalator. “With two other gentlemen.”

4

“WE WERE SUPPOSED to meet at the bottom of the escalator a half hour ago.” Mike blew into his clammy palms. “Are the elevators and escalators the only ways to get to the first floor?”

The security guard nodded. “For shoppers.”

“What do you mean? Are there stairs we haven’t checked?”

“Don’t worry, Mr. Mason.” The older man glanced at the notes he’d taken so far. “We have a good description of her. We’ll find your daughter. How old did you say she is?”

“Twenty-three,” Mike muttered.

“What?”

“I never said she was my daughter.”

The man closed his notebook and glared. “Is this some kind of joke? We’re talking about a grown woman, not a kid?”