Missionary Position Read Online Free PDF Page B

order—would keep them happy.
    Gerhard would not stay put inside his uptight banker box.
    I wondered if he ever lost the suit. Would I recognize him wearing jeans and a T-shirt?
    I bit my lip. Jeans, T-shirt, or nothing.
    I wanted to have sex with banker Gerhard. Maybe sex would solve the puzzle. He probably enjoyed being tied up and called baby.
    I shuddered.
    “Cold?”
    I blinked a several times, clearing my head. “Maybe.” A cloud moved in front of the sun and the temperature dropped. I grabbed my sweater out of my bag.
    “You won’t be needing a sweater for a while.” He gestured to my sweater.
    “I know. I’ll miss the gray and the rain, but bring on the heat.”
    “You say that now. Wait until you’re tired of the sticky feeling of mosquito spray, sweat, and dirt.”
    “Well, when you put it that way, it sounds lovely.” I turned and smiled at him. “What do you miss about Ghana?”
    “The people, mostly. My friends there. The mangos. The way the waves assault the shore.”
    “Sounds exotic and slightly dangerous.”
    “It can be. Don’t be lulled into thinking the same rules from the States, or here, apply there. Promise me you’ll play it safe. No ‘I am woman, hear me roar’ nonsense if you’re dealing with police or the government. It’s a land of chiefs and clearly defined roles.” His expression was serious.
    “I’ll behave. This isn’t my first trip outside the West.”
    “Where else have you been?” His voice revealed his interest.
    “Vietnam, Chile, Costa Rica, Thailand, Cambodia …” I listed some of my more exotic destinations.
    “Impressive.”
    “Thank you, Mr. World Traveler. What about you? Where’s your next assignment?”
    “I’m supposed to be based in Kenya for a month. I think. It might change.” He stared out across the semi-empty beer garden.
    “Kenya? We’ll be on the same continent.”
    “Africa’s a big place.”
    “True. But it will be nice to know I’ll have a friend on the same continent.”
    “Is that what we are? Friends?”
    “In twenty-four hours, what else could we be?” I held my breath waiting for an answer. I typically wasn’t this woman—the woman who waited for the man to pursue. If I wanted someone, I had them. One word to Rob, the boy band backpacker, and he would have followed me home, but I didn’t say the word. And here I sat, waiting for a man wearing custom tailored suit trousers and expensive black leather shoes, who was so very not my type, to chase me. Or at least confirm he was interested. He flirted. We bantered, but he hadn’t made a move. Not even after dinner last night. I received a hand on my back and a polite double-cheek kiss when he escorted me to a taxi.
    He interlaced his fingers and stretched out his arms, exhaling. “Sure. Of course.” A little smile tugged the corner of his mouth, but his eyes didn’t sparkle.
    Wait.
    Could Gerhard be gay?
    I mentally replayed our time together. There was flirting and the aforementioned banter, but my friend Quinn and I had the same thing in spades, and he was most definitely gay. Quinn didn’t make my thighs clench together. Unless I was trying not to pee from laughing.
    Color me officially confused.
    Meticulously dressed. Fancy shoes.
    Tingles on my skin when he touched me or stared at me with his stormy sea eyes.
    I looked down at his long fingers. Well-groomed nails. Metrosexual?
    Would it be rude to ask if he was gay? Nothing compliments and says ‘I want to have sex with you’ like asking about sexual preference.
    If I didn’t want to have sex with him, I would ask.
    Why would Anita, patron saint of superior genes, want me to meet her gay brother?
    One word: Ghana.
    He’d been there and would be a good resource.
    Of course.
    This wasn’t a romantic set-up.
    Suddenly, the beer, sun, and cheese caught up to me. I closed my eyes. After a few breaths, I opened my lids and sighed.
    Gerhard stared at me funny.
    “Tired?” he asked.
    “Exhausted. I think jet lag