Part 15

Michael pulled the truck into the garage and sat there for a moment before he turned the key and cut power to the engine. He had to get out for a while, had to get away from this woman and her constant chatter.

"I'm goin' out," he said suddenly.

"Where're we going?" Maria asked, deliberately misunderstanding him. He had been silent since they had made their way out of L.A. and it was beginning to grate on her nerves.

"We aren't goin' anywhere. You had to have all this shit so do somethin' with it." He got out and slammed the door before stalking around the front of the truck, unlocking the door that went inside the house before going over to the motorcycle.

"Where're you going?" Maria wondered why she was even asking such an absurd question. She was starting to get to know this Michael, and the man had sex on the mind 24/7.

"Someplace where I can get laid."

Bingo, Maria thought unhappily.

Michael glanced at her as he checked his pockets for the keys to the motorcycle. "Preferably by a woman who can use her mouth for somethin' besides talkin' all the fuckin' time."

That son of a… pod! She watched him, eyes narrowed. He pissed her off even more than HER Michael had and she hadn't thought that anyone could achieve that goal. "I guess you should hurry then; I'd imagine the hookers should be making their way to the street corners pretty soon."

He snorted derisively and watched her as she walked around to open the back to get to their purchases. "I don't do hookers."

Ha, she wouldn't bet her life on that! "No? Why? Can't find one willing to work with what you've got to offer? I'm sure with enough money a hooker would be willing to overlook any inadequacies you have."

He stalked to the back of the vehicle to face her and she shoved an armful of sacks into his arms. "There is nothin' inadequate about my dick!" he shouted.

"Oh." She pretended to ponder that for a moment before nodding and walking into the house. "So, it's performance anxiety then," she guessed.

"What?" He hurried after her and unloaded the bags on the island in the center of the kitchen. He folded his arms across his chest and glared at her where she stood across from him. "Performance anxiety?"

"You know..." She held her right hand up, pinky finger extended toward the ceiling and as he watched she slowly lowered it. "You're all into it and then… nothing."

Michael hurried after her when she walked back out into the garage. "I do not have a problem maintaining a fuckin' erection!" You don't have a problem when she's around, his mind taunted. Any other woman… you know what's gonna happen.

"Hmm, so if it's not a problem with size or your ability to…" she smirked, "keep an erection, it must be something else." She sighed and shook her head as she piled more sacks into his arms before gathering up an armful for herself and going back inside. "Yeah, that only leaves one thing."

His jaw ached from grinding his back teeth together. "What are you talkin' about now?" he snapped as he unloaded the groceries on the counter.

Maria leaned back against the refrigerator for a few moments. "Endurance, stamina, the ability to - "

"Wait just a fuckin' minute! Are you suggesting that I shoot my load too quick?" he shouted, his face flushing red with anger.

She shrugged. "I'm just saying that women tend to prefer a man who can make it to the finish line."

"I don't have any of those problems," he denied, following her out to the truck for more groceries.

"You sure about that?" Okay, her Michael had never had that problem, but that didn't mean that this Michael couldn't have it. Oh, who was she fooling? All those women sniffing around him, the way he was constantly parading around and bragging about his sexual exploits; they were all indicators that he was as good as her Michael in bed. Or out of bed… or outdoors… or… damn it, no more thinking about Michael and sex. It was only gonna cause problems. It wasn't any of her business, but she wasn't able to focus on the rational part of her brain.

"I've never left a woman unsatisfied and I've got the stamina of a fuckin' racehorse," he muttered as he pulled the bags closest to the front out and handed them to her.

Maria burst out laughing. A race horse? Did Michael even know that this wasn't the best comparison he could've come up with? Nope, he didn't know. Stupid alien. "Considering a horse race lasts for all of two minutes, I think I would've used a different analogy. Seriously, Michael, if you're bragging about holding out for two whole minutes…"

Michael used every trick he had learned in his job to avoid strangling her. She was insulting him on purpose. He knew it, and he was still there, playing her little game. Well, no more; he had a mission and he didn't want to be late. "What do you want? A list of references?"

"Oh, I'd love to see you put that list together." She shut the back door with her left shoulder and followed him back into the house. "Tell you what, I won't say another derogatory word about your pathetic taste in women or your ability to satisfy them if you can tell me the name of the woman who gave you her phone number at the store."

"The woman at the store?" He frantically searched his mind, trying to remember who she was talking about.

Maria laughed. "See, you've already forgotten her."

Michael shot a dark glare in her direction. "Just give me a minute, would you? I just need to remember what she looked like; there were a lot of fuckable women out today."

Maria rolled her eyes. "The one who came up to you while you were stuffing your face with chocolate donuts… donuts that I know you didn't pay for."

He shrugged carelessly, his mind desperately trying to identify the woman so he could get Maria off of his back. "I saw no reason to pay for an empty box."

"You emptied it!"

Michael waved his hand, unconcerned with his theft. "Not the point."

"How is that - " She shook her head. "You're right, that's not the point. The point is you have no idea what her name is."

So? He was a guy, not some hero out of a Harlequin romance novel, for God's sake. He'd bet she even read that kind of shit. "Actually, the point is that I don't give a fuck what their names are. I'm not gonna remember them later, and before you lecture me on that, they know the score goin' in. I don't make false promises and I don't waste my time tellin' 'em lies just to get between their legs. If any woman I'm interested in fuckin' can't deal with the rules, it's her loss; I can always find another hot piece of ass."

Not for the first time, Maria wondered if her Michael would have eventually turned out like this man, had he not been raised with Max and Isabel, and if he had never met her. It was so difficult to picture the guy who had learned to dance for her spouting these words. She didn't want to think that he could have turned out this way. Her Michael was special, he had something… more, something this Michael was lacking. A real soul, maybe. "Have you ever cared about any woman you've ever had sex with?"

"What?" He wasn't paying attention to her question; he was trying to figure out how she had managed to get him to carry most of the groceries into the house when his intention had been to leave without so much as lifting a single sack.

Gritting her teeth, Maria repeated her question. "I asked if you've ever cared about any woman you've ever had sex with?"

"Don't need to care about 'em to fuck 'em," he said as he pulled his keys out of his pocket and crossed the room on his way to the garage. "Don't wait up."

"Damn it," Maria muttered when she heard the motorcycle engine roar to life. For just a moment she thought she had sidetracked him enough that he was going to forget his intentions to go looking for a woman to have sex with. She should've known better - the man had a one-track mind and right now his only concern was getting laid.

What was she going to do if he brought the tramp home with him? she wondered as she put the groceries away. Knowing Michael he'd probably expect her to get up and make breakfast for him and whatever piece of slutty trash he brought home.

No, she decided, he wouldn't bring women to his home; there was no evidence that anyone had ever been there. Besides, bringing a woman to his home would send the wrong message; it might make them think that he was interested in prolonging their… arrangement, and considering his aversion to anything resembling relationships, he wouldn't take that risk.

She put the groceries away before carrying the rest of the sacks into the living room and dropping them on the couch. Where was she going to put her clothes? She briefly considered hanging them in the closet in Michael's bedroom but just as quickly discarded that idea. As much as she enjoyed pissing him off on a constant basis - and she was certain that encroaching on his closet space would do just that - she needed her own space for her things.

She walked through the house until she reached the room that housed his home office. Standing inside the room she looked around for several minutes before walking back out into the living room, mentally comparing the space. In the office once more, her gaze traveled over the walls and she crossed the floor to open the door that she hadn't noticed before.

A walk-in closet, she mused. It wasn't as large as the one in the master bedroom, but it was more than adequate... and even better than that, it was empty. She stepped back out and looked around the room with renewed interest as she considered the possibilities.

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Michael entered the bar he frequented when he had time off, brushing the dust from the road off of his jacket before shrugging out of it. He maneuvered his way through the crowd and found an empty spot at one end of the bar, snarling at the man sitting on the next stool when he turned and started to make drunkenly polite conversation. The drunk stumbled off in search of someone who would listen to him and Michael placed his jacket on the stool to prevent anyone else from sitting next to him.

"Well, you're as pleasant as always," Jordan said as she placed a bottle of his beer on the counter in front of him. She studied him carefully, feeling the tension that was radiating off of him, and she shook her head. "Do not start a fight in here, Guerin."

"Who said I was gonna start a fight?" he muttered darkly. That Maria girl was really something. How had his double put up with her? Now, that was a mystery.

"You're strung too tight and you haven't even looked at a single woman since you walked in; put those two together and it means you're in here looking for a fight. The last time that happened it took several days to fix all the damage you did."

He wasn't in the mood to be analyzed. "I paid for everything, didn't I?"

Jordan snorted. "You broke everything in the first place, and the only reason you paid for the repairs is because I told you I'd stop feeding you if you didn't."

He shrugged, not bothering to deny it. His dark eyes traced over her features, noticing, probably for the first time, that she had green eyes. "How come we never hooked up?"

Jordan smiled. "Besides the fact that I'm not into men?"

"Well, obviously besides that." He grinned unrepentantly. "I could change your religion in one night, Jordan."

She sized him up, her expression pensive. "You think you're that good?"

"I know I'm that good," he corrected her.

Jordan shook her head. Men and their vanity. "I'd hate to be the one responsible for bruising your ego because no matter how good you are, you're not about to change my preferences. I've played both sides of the fence; you wouldn't be the first man I've ever fucked."

"Maybe not, but I'd sure as fuck be the best thing you've ever had between your legs," he said as he tipped his bottle back to finish his beer.

Jordan poured herself a shot and tossed it back as she contemplated his arrogant offer; she was single again since her ex had dumped her for a truck driver who had been just passing through and she hadn't been laid in a couple of weeks. She wasn't interested in anything with strings and she knew he would never want a relationship of any kind or the emotional attachment that went with it.

"Tell ya what," she said as she poured another shot for herself, "if I don't get a better offer before closing, you're on."

Michael hid his surprise at her response and saluted her with the bottle in his right hand. "You won't regret it," he said smugly.

"Not if all the stories I've heard are true," she said with a wink. "You want your usual for dinner?"

"Yeah, and tell Cal to double the order; I feel like I haven't eaten in a week." His mood lightened as he watched her walk away and he felt anticipation curling low in his belly. He was getting laid tonight! He didn't know if it was the combination of blond hair and green eyes or something else and he didn't care - he was getting laid and that was the only thing that mattered.

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Michael unlocked the door and entered the dark house, immediately feeling the difference in the atmosphere. The house was normally silent and felt empty, but there were subtle sounds that indicated the presence of another person. He dropped his keys and wallet on the counter in the kitchen before looking through the cabinets and the refrigerator. He had never seen so much real food in his house before; he just hoped Maria knew how to cook all of it.

For the first time in more than a week he felt like he had some control over his life. When he had left the house earlier he had been ready to explode; he had been pissed off, sexually frustrated, and ready to fly into a violent rage at the slightest provocation. Whatever had been causing the mental/physical block had taken the night off and his dick had behaved normally for the evening.

He was exhausted and all he wanted was a hot shower and a few hours of uninterrupted sleep. All of the frustration and aggression that had been building to unmanageable proportions was back under control and all it had taken to achieve that was some very energetic fucking.

He pulled his tee shirt off over his head, wincing when it pulled against his chest. Body shots had a tendency to leave a sticky mess behind, he thought as he made his way to his bedroom so he could wash it off.

He glanced at the shadowed lump on the couch as he walked through the living room. He heard her breathing pattern change and he knew she was awake, but instead of rubbing her nose in the knowledge that he had gotten laid he moved on to his room and shut the door behind him.

He had succeeded in his mission to get laid, Maria thought as she glanced at the clock on the face of the stereo system. It was after three in the morning and he had the audacity to come home without bothering to shower first. Even from across the room he reeked of alcohol and sex, and in that moment she hated him.

She pulled the blanket tighter around her and shoved the thought of Michael with another woman out of her head. She wasn't going to think about it because it was only going to make her angry and she needed to keep her thoughts focused.

Sleep didn't come easily, and when it did finally welcome her into its dark embrace it was anything but restful.

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Michael came in early the next morning after doing his exercises and making his five-mile run. He stripped his tank top off and mopped the sweat off of his face as he made his way through the living room on his way to the shower. He felt ridiculously good as he walked through his bedroom door but he felt his good mood begin to evaporate when he realized that the bathroom door was shut.

He could hear the shower running and he opened the door without hesitation. "You've got five minutes to finish up or we're showerin' together," he shouted.

Exactly five minutes later the door opened and she breezed by him wrapped in one of his big, fluffy bath towels. "I see you haven't been able to wash the stench of whore off of yourself yet," she muttered on her way out of his bedroom.

"Why do you have to be such a bitch about my fuckin' sex life?" He followed her into the living room. "I don't wanna hear one more word about what I do or who I do it with, do you understand? Just because you're sexually frustrated, don't take it out on me!" he snapped. "I offered and you refused, so if you're all tense and bitchy because you're not getting laid that's not my fault and I don't deserve to be punished for it."

Oh, someone was touchy this morning, Maria thought, realizing she had hit a nerve. "Did you pay for sex last night?"

"No," he denied, "I did not pay for sex last night."

"Maybe you should've because if you spent the night having sex you shouldn't be this easy to provoke so soon after. Which leads me to believe that it wasn't quite as good as you've made yourself think it was," Maria said, crossing her arms over her chest and watching him. Ooooh, yeah, she was right, he was bragging to make up for an unsatisfactory experience. Now that was hilarious, she thought as a big smile illuminated her face.

"Fuck off." He stalked back into his bedroom and slammed the door, stripping the remainder of his clothes off and getting into the shower. Okay, he admitted as he turned the water on and stepped under the spray, he hadn't exactly changed Jordan's religion the night before and chances were good that he probably wouldn't get another shot at it after his less-than-stellar performance. But, he had been trying to focus on the positive side of things and just enjoy the fact that he had gotten laid. He should've known that Maria was gonna say something and ruin it for him.

Jordan had thankfully had enough tequila in her by closing time that she hadn't exactly laughed in his face afterwards, but that might have been preferable to her informing him that she was planning to stick with women from now on. It had been easier to simply console himself with the fact that he had gotten laid at all before Maria had put her two cents in. Before she had added her opinion, he was content to ignore the other facts; Jordan hadn't been drunk enough to confuse good and bad sex, she wasn't a die-hard lesbian (although she was probably rethinking her stand on that choice now), and while he had gotten off, eventually anyway, he hadn't been able to do the same for her.

He got out of the shower and dried off. "You're stressin' over nothin'," he muttered to his reflection in the mirror over the sink. "You knew goin' in that Jordan prefers chicks anyway and it was your first time…" he snorted at that. "It's the first time you've had sex in a while and considerin' all the suggestions Maria put in your head before you left the house yesterday you still got laid and you got off." He pointed at his reflection. "That is all that matters. Besides, you got it up and you kept it up…" He glanced down at his dick. "And that is all you get credit for," he snapped. "I don't know what the fuck you were doin'; were you completely blind last night? You do realize it's your job to find and hit a woman's G-spot, right? So, on top of Maria's insults regarding our performance, fuckin' a lesbian - because, yes, that's what we've come to - you have to go and ruin it by not getting Jordan off. You do realize that there is not enough alcohol in the world for her to forget that pathetic display of sexual prowess, don't you?"

He shook his head and turned his attention back to shaving. "The fault for last night can be placed in several different places, but just so you know, I take no responsibility for it. It's your fault for not payin' attention, Jordan's fault for bein' a lesbian, and Maria's fault for all that bullshit she was spoutin' yesterday." He wiped the excess shaving cream off of his face and stared at his reflection for a long minute. "All of it's her fault," he said slowly. "Shit's been goin' wrong ever since she showed up." He ignored that worrisome little voice in the back of his mind, reminding him that this problem he'd been having had started before her arrival. "Yep, it's all her fault. But, I'm not lettin' you off the hook," he muttered, glancing at his dick once more. "For whatever reason, you've become obsessed with her and you're not getting the message that she's not the slightest bit interested in you. Okay, that's not true, but she's in denial, and until that changes you're not gonna be seein' any action on that front."

Michael crossed his bedroom to pull a set of clothes out of the closet and toss them on the bed. "We're not gonna think about last night except in the context that we got laid; the rest of it is unimportant, and as such, is not worth thinkin' about." He pulled on a pair of tan cargo pants and picked the tee shirt up, carrying it with him to the kitchen.

The scent of breakfast food cooking had his mouth watering and his stomach grumbling and he decided to be generous and not pick a fight since she was finally cooking. Not to mention there was no telling what she'd do to the food if they got into a fight while she was cooking.