Check. Or at least that’s what his bio listed as his field of work. She circled her finger around a key on the keyboard. He looked like an accountant almost as much as he looked like a Melvin. He didn’t seem like someone who could sit at a desk all day. Not with a rangy physique like that – or the tamped-down energy. There was an air of edginess around him. An overly keen alertness. He should be out climbing mountains or navigating obstacle courses. Modelling underwear.
She frowned. She’d confirmed he was a client, but that didn’t change anything. There was still nobody who could accompany him. She didn’t like putting Luxxor in a bad light, even if he had come in with a request they couldn’t possibly fulfill, but she had no other option. ‘I truly am sorry, Mr Summers, but we don’t have any female escorts available – unless that’s not what you’re looking for?’
The dry look he sent her parched her skin. She hadn’t thought he swung that way, but she tried to keep an open mind.
‘What about you?’
She blinked. ‘What about me?’
‘Why can’t you go with me?’
‘Me?’ Rielle gasped. ‘But…I…I’m not…That’s not what I do for Luxxor.’
‘Do you eat dinner?’
‘Of course, but –’
‘Do you go to parties?’
‘No.’ She hadn’t been to a party in years.
‘Do you slow dance?’
She swallowed hard. With him?
‘OK, forget what you do for Luxxor. Do you date?’
She didn’t. She wasn’t ready yet. ‘Mr Summers, this really isn’t proper.’
‘I don’t have time for proper.’ He put both hands upon the desktop and leaned in close. ‘Go out with me.’
The word ‘no’ should have been on the tip of her tongue, but Rielle couldn’t get it out. Not with the way he was looking at her. All challenging, impatient and evaluating…
‘Hold on.’ He pulled a white envelope out of his breast pocket. ‘Maybe this will convince you. This is where we’d be going.’
She took the envelope by the corner. It was heavyweight paper with razor-crisp edges. The name Melvin Summers was written on the envelope in fine calligraphy. It was obviously a special event, but her breath caught in her lungs when she read the invitation inside.
‘The White House? You’re inviting me to a function at the White House?’
His blue eyes flashed. ‘I knew that would get me somewhere.’
Rielle dropped the invitation. She wanted to be suspicious of it, but everything about it screamed that it was real. ‘No, no. I didn’t say yes.’
‘But you’re tempted.’ It didn’t matter what she said, he’d scented blood.
She sprang out of her chair. ‘That’s a reception to welcome the Prince and Princess of Sweden.’
‘Yes.’
‘But why?’
‘Why? It’s good for foreign relations. It’s polite for the U.S. to welcome them. They just got married.’
She couldn’t help rolling her eyes. ‘No, why would you come here?’
His grin came and went so quickly, it was questionable if it had ever been there, but the edginess about him changed. Became sleeker and more approachable. ‘Word is that you’re all trained in protocol. You’re not going to grab the wrong fork or say the wrong thing.’
‘I haven’t had that training.’
‘But you have manners. You haven’t told me to get the hell out yet – which you should have, by the way.’
She knew, and it made her even more nervous that he knew. Nina would be horrified to learn that a stranger, even a client, was in the office alone with her after hours. Yet Rielle’s grandmother had been a stickler for etiquette. Learned behaviour was hard to shake.
She took a deep breath. This was just crazy. ‘I can’t believe you came here looking for an escort to meet the President with you.’
‘I came here looking for an escort, but I found a date.’ He watched her closely as he slid the invitation back into his pocket. ‘And a beautiful one at that. Come on, save me here.’
Warmth rose up in her. She hadn’t been called beautiful in a long time.
She dragged her hand through her hair, forgetting completely about the alarm button. She couldn’t go out with a complete stranger, not even to a dinner at the White House, as tempting as it might be.
Why not? the devil on her shoulder asked.
Because it wasn’t safe, the angel on the other replied.
But it could be.
She worried her thumbnail against the back of her chair. Luxxor had security. She could tell their crew about her plans. She could inform them who she was with and where they were going. Where on the face of the earth would there be more security than the White House? He was bold, but she doubted he’d try anything there.
‘Full disclosure,’ he said. ‘We’d probably only get to meet the President and First Man for thirty seconds, tops. We’d shake hands, say a few words, snap a picture and then be on our way.’
‘Only get to’?
Rielle fought not to roll her eyes again, but she caught him watching her. Studying her. Trying to figure her out.
It made her stiffen. She knew she should say no. She didn’t know this man. She shouldn’t go anywhere with him. Luxxor might have her everlasting loyalty, but there were limits to what she would do for them. Her salad and book were safer. Known quantities. Boring quantities.
Everything inside her wanted to say yes. Just dive in and go for it. When would she ever get a chance to go to something like this again?
She saw escorts leaving the office every day on high adventures. She’d heard the stories that Sienna, Dane and Genieve would tell, and she secretly envied them. They were wined and dined, entertained and offered opportunities solely because people had become so busy, they didn’t have time to form close connections of their own. She hadn’t been out on the town in so long. It had been a self-imposed limitation, but that didn’t mean it didn’t feel constricting.
And she’d felt more alive and alert in the last fifteen minutes than she had in the past few years.
Of course, she wasn’t willing to go beyond drinks and small talk. Some of their escorts went beyond that. Way beyond that. She didn’t like to think about that aspect of Luxxor’s business.
But
