grinned shyly. “Hush is simply an adult hotel that caters to consenting, discriminating couples.”
“Yeah, I saw that in the brochure. But I still don’t get it.”
“It’s about pleasure, Detective. Unapologetic and sophisticated. Visual, tactile, in fact all the senses are catered to. There’s something for everyone from the massages at the spa to the unbelievable room service—”
“Yeah, about that. I’ve heard that a guest can order more than dinner.”
“They can have massage or beauty services. Even their pets can have room service.”
He wondered if she was being coy or naive. It was hard to tell with her. Damn, though, he wished she hadn’t changed from the black tux. Not that she didn’t look good in her red T-shirt and jeans, but the T was snug and Maxwell’s was chilly.
Of course he was a moron for bringing up this topic. Just hearing her talk about catering to all the senses had made him uncomfortable. Bringing it back to business would help. “Those massage services wouldn’t include special bonuses, would they?”
“Oh, you’re talking about prostitution. No, that’s not at all what Hush is about. Did you know that each room comes with an armoire stocked with sex toys?”
Okay, so Mia wasn’t quite as innocent as her image would suggest. Shit. An armoire stocked with sex toys? He’d like to see those. See her. Touch— Damn it. “How does that work?” he asked, hoping she hadn’t noticed his voice crack.
She unsuccessfully hid a snicker. “That would depend on the guest.”
She was killing him here. On purpose. Because she could. Because she knew he was getting hard at her matter-of-fact voice, at that wicked smile. He cleared his throat. “No, I mean those kinds of amenities really couldn’t be reused, could they?”
“It depends. Anything that has the possibility of contact with bodily fluids is replaced for each guest. But some of the toys are cleaned and reused. It’s a very strict process with no room for error. You should come down sometime and see the operation. You’d be impressed.”
“I’m sure I would,” he said, desperate to change the subject. Thankfully, dinner arrived and Bax threw himself into eating his pastrami on rye. It wasn’t quite as effective as a cold shower, but as long as Mia didn’t talk about sex toys any more, he should be okay.
“A lot of people come to Hush expecting something lurid or tacky, but no one has ever left with that impression. It’s hard, though, because the press is so myopic. Sex sells. The sleazier the better. And when you combine that with Piper Devon’s reputation, which, I must say is totally distorted, then you get tabloid accounts full of insinuation and exaggeration. It’s a shame.”
Think of the sandwich. Not the sex. “But you keep getting the clientele you’re really after.”
“Mostly due to Piper and word of mouth.”
“It doesn’t hurt that the place is incredibly expensive.”
“Our guests are of the belief that you get what you pay for. The higher the price, the more valued the service.”
“Damn, you’re good at this stuff.”
“What stuff?”
He ignored the question as he finished the first half of his sandwich. He was finally settling down, getting some control. But he had to steer the conversation away from the goddamn sex. “Let me ask you something. You’ve clearly had to deal with the paparazzi since you started working there. Do you make deals with them? Give them exclusives in return for favors?”
“Sometimes. Always to the benefit of the hotel, though, and there are lots of paps who aren’t ever considered for special favors.”
“Like Gerry Geiger?”
She shook her head. “Geiger wasn’t always this bad. We used to use him on occasion, but only because he played by the rules.”
“Why do you think he changed?”
“I don’t know. I figured it was about money. It always seems to be about that, though.”
Bax made a mental note to dig deeper into Geiger’s financial situation, although he knew Grunwald was already on top of it. What Bax wondered was if there were some hidden accounts, maybe under Sheila’s name.
“Let me talk to Kit, our public relations manager,” Mia said. “She’ll let me know what the situation was with Geiger.”
Bax nodded. Relaxed. Finally, he felt steady again, at least for the time being. “You went to school to become a concierge?”
“I studied hotel management. But I’ve been around hotels my whole life. Both my parents are concierges. That’s what gave me the edge with Hush.”
“Doesn’t it bother you to have to coddle a bunch of overprivileged snobs?”
“I don’t coddle. I perform a service. I do my best to see that the guests of the hotel have an exceptional experience.”
“But aren’t most of the requests things your guests could do for themselves if they’d only lift a finger or two?”
“Sometimes. But honestly, I don’t see it that way. A lot of them are simply too busy to start checking the phone book or to find out where the closest luggage shop is. I know the city. I can make their stay more pleasant, easier. I have extraordinary connections, so I’m able to help the guests get the things they really need.”
“I’m leaving,” he said, apropos of nothing.
She put her fork down. “Now?”
He shook his head, surprised that he’d brought this up. He hadn’t planned on telling her anything about himself. “In three months. I’m leaving the force.”
She didn’t seem too shocked, which made sense considering their earlier conversation. “Where are you going?”
“Boulder. I’m going back to school.”
“That’s wonderful. Studying law, or—”
“Literature.”
Mia sat back in the booth. Now she seemed shocked. “Literature. Wow.”
Oddly, he felt proud and embarrassed both when he should have felt neither. “I want to write. To teach.”
“I’d very much like to hear that story,” she said.
He tried to hold back a yawn and failed. “Maybe another time.” When he looked at her again it was with a sleepy smile. “I have the feeling you’re a very good concierge.”
“That I am,” she said.
He sat back in the booth as she took her tiny bites of blintzes, thinking that he should leave her to finish dinner alone. He needed to go home and get some sleep. Not that he hadn’t done this a hundred times over the last ten years. Stayed up for twenty-four, thirty-six
