Love Starved Read Online Free PDF Page A

message quoted underneath. So much for his data safety expertise; it had only taken some liquor and a moment of weakness for him to throw all caution to the wind and give his home address and private phone number to this man—this complete stranger who could be anyone, could use it for anything, give it to some seedy people for God knew what reason. He was a sex worker, for goodness sake! Daphne vouched for him, but Daphne was known for trusting anyone with a nice smile.
    Worse still, he had paid the man already. Phone numbers could be changed if necessary, and his building had security, but he had just transferred the amount of money that was almost as much as his monthly rent to a complete stranger, on a whim. And for what? For one “date” that would surely turn out to be an absolute disaster, since the man knew nothing about him but a few random facts. If Micah really had a masochistic need to try the awkwardness of dating again, it would have been so much cheaper, if not less painful, to go to a random gay club and look around. Except now, in the light of day, when he was sober and rational, he didn’t have the tiniest desire to do that. Why put himself through that again?
    But he had paid already, and there wasn’t much he could do about it now. He could hardly write to Angel—what kind of a name was that, anyway?—and ask him to send the money back because Micah had changed his mind. The mere thought made him cringe with embarrassment. What would the guy think, that he was some nervous teenager? Besides, Micah doubted this kind of service came with a refund policy. But what else could he do? Even the thought of going through with the fake date gave him the creeps.
    There was no good solution. Or at least he wouldn’t find one while nursing a massive headache and growing nausea. He had time till Monday; he would figure something out later. For now, he needed a shower, coffee and some painkillers.
    Micah had all kinds of plans for this weekend—plans that included grocery shopping and cooking and a long overdue Skype session with his parents, as well as spending at least a few hours on the wide balcony of his twentieth-floor apartment, enjoying the sun and the spectacular view of Lake Calhoun while he finished the book edits. He had to keep an eye on a few trackers he had installed on a client’s company laptop, too, in case any suspicious activity occurred, but he could do it easily from his home office. All in all, it should be a nice, productive weekend at home with a bit of indulgence in life’s little pleasures. But so far, it wasn’t working. Micah was a nervous, disgruntled mess.
    Walking through his favorite grocery store on Saturday afternoon, he couldn’t help but feel distaste rise in his throat. Here he was, spending more than a family of four’s monthly food budget on—let’s say it—a prostitute, something he neither needed nor even really wanted. People were starving, and that guy was charging more than a thousand bucks for a few hours of company. Micah had no idea what the usual rates for this kind of service were, but it seemed outrageous. Except his drunken self clearly hadn’t thought so, accepting the price without a blink of an eye. That was so stupid. Sure, he could afford it, technically—the company was doing great and his book had sold for much more than he’d expected—but there were so many better things to spend the money on.
    In an attempt to atone for his foolishness, Micah dropped a fifty into a disabled homeless man’s hat on his way home, but it didn’t really make him feel any better.
    All day, he’d been leaning toward calling off the date. If Angel told him he wouldn’t return the payment, so be it; he would rather lose the money than suffer through the stilted attempts at romance the guy would undoubtedly offer. But as he drove home from the store with the trunk of his car filled with groceries, Micah couldn’t help but think about his parents. What would they