Читать книгу Operation Gigolo - Vicki Thompson Lewis - Страница 8

TONY REACTED instinctively. Dropping his duffel bag, he crouched beside Gladys and supported her head and shoulders against his knee. “Lynn, get some water,” he said. At least Gladys’s pulse was strong, he noted as he placed his fingers against her carotid artery.

“Take your hands off her, you pervert!” Bud squatted and tried to wrestle Gladys away from Tony. His gold chains dangled in her face as he pulled her toward him.

“Gladys, dammit, did you put on another one of those strapless gut-buster things? If I’ve told you once, I’ve told you a million times—”

“Gut-buster?” Tony looked bewildered.

“We’re talkin’ serious underwire.” Bud put a hand on his wife’s midriff. “Yup, she’s trussed up like a turkey. Gotta get her out of that thing so she can breathe.”

“Here?” Tony croaked.

“Can’t. She’d kill me.”

“Uh…” Tony glanced around nervously. Quite a crowd had gathered around them.

“Here’s the water,” Lynn said, handing him a plastic bottle. “But all she needs is to get her bustier off and she’ll be fine. She always is.”

“Go clear the women’s rest room,” Tony said, scooping Gladys up in his arms and standing in one clean motion.

“Dad, get the bags,” Lynn said as she hurried off.

Bud picked up Tony’s duffel and grabbed the handle of Lynn’s carry-on before running after Tony. “That was some bench press. Like a human forklift or something. Do you work out?”

“Yeah, some.” Tony aimed for the nearest sign reading Women. Then he remembered the image he was supposed to project. “A hard body impresses the hell out of the chicks,” he added.

Bud’s eyes narrowed. “Hey, I forgot, I don’t want you touching my wife!”

“Better let him carry her, Dad,” Lynn called over her shoulder. “Or you’ll throw out your back, like you did the last time.” Then she ducked into the rest room.

“Last time?” Tony glanced at Bud. “This happens a lot?”

“Not a lot. Five, maybe six times. When she wears her gut-buster.”

“I think I’d burn the gut-busters, Bud. Can I call you Bud?”

“No.”

“Have it your way, Dad.”

“All clear!” Lynn called from the bathroom entrance.

“Dad, you stand guard with the luggage while Tony and I take care of this.”

“Make sure you do the unhooking, not hotshot, here.”

“I promise, Dad.”

Tony winked at him. “Me, too, Dad.” The look on Bud’s face told Tony that he was coming across just the way he needed to. He’d seen that look on the faces of several fathers during his high-school days. He’d also noticed how protective Bud was of Gladys. These two would only need a few more nudges and they’d be back together, just the way Lynn wanted.

Inside the rest room, he lifted Gladys to the sink counter. Her bottom fit neatly in one of the sinks, while her feet in the platform shoes eased nicely into the adjoining one.

“Don’t look,” Lynn instructed, moving in beside him and pulling her mother’s tank top from the waistband of her shorts.

“Not in a million years.” He supported Gladys with an arm around her shoulders and gazed up at the ceiling. He’d known this trip would involve some surprises, but he’d never pictured himself standing in the women’s bathroom holding an unconscious Mrs. Morgan while Lynn took off her mother’s underwear.

“You’re as sexy as they come, aren’t you?” muttered the woman in his arms, a challenge in her voice.

Tony glanced down but made sure he kept his attention firmly on Gladys’s face. “Excuse me?”

“Just as I thought! Bedroom eyes,” she said, gazing up at him. “My little girl never had a chance, did she, Romeo?”

Her evaluation that he was a predatory male out to ruin her daughter bothered him more than he’d thought it would, but it was exactly what she was supposed to think. He forced himself to give her a cocky smile.

Gladys reached up and pinched his ear.

“Hey!” He tried to resist, but she had a practiced motherlock on his earlobe. His own mom wouldn’t have been able to do it better.

She pulled his head down. “Don’t count your chickens, swivel-hips. She’ll marry you over my dead body.”

“Turn him loose, Mom,” Lynn said. “There, it’s off.” She pulled her mother’s tank top back down. “I’m throwing it in the trash.”

“No!” Gladys let go of Tony’s ear and sat up, grabbing a bra cup in the process. “I paid dearly for that bustier, and it gives me Dolly Parton cleavage! I’m keeping it!”

“No. It’s too small.” Lynn tugged back. “Besides, what about your promise that you’d throw it away after you passed out in the bowling alley?”

“I threw that one away! This one’s brand-new!”

“And you still didn’t get the bigger size, did you? Let go, Mom.”

Watching the tug-of-war, Tony rubbed his sore ear and wondered what his role was in this fracas. As the elastic garment stretched precariously between the two women, he became alarmed. Somebody could get hurt. He grabbed the middle of it and hung on tight. “Look, I don’t think this is built to—”

“There are ten angry ladies outside who just came off a three-hour flight,” Bud said, walking into the rest room.

“Uh-oh!” Gladys and Lynn said together, and let go of the bustier.

Two reinforced bra cups slapped Tony soundly on both cheeks.

Bud cringed. “Whoops.”

Lynn spun around and looked at Tony, her eyes wide. “I’m so sorry. Are you—”

“I’m terrific. Let’s just get out of here before somebody calls security.”