but considering how you feel about taking charge, I’m not sure I should answer it.”
“Answer the door, Harry,” she replied, giving her first order. For some reason, her body tensed as she considered the possible identity of the person on the other side of the door. Had he made a date with an old flame? Or an old client? Was Dexter moonlighting to earn some extra cash?
He moved toward the door and opened it. But it wasn’t a woman on the other side. It was a waiter pushing a room service cart. He rolled it inside the room and over to the small table in the corner.
“What’s this?” Kylie asked, as the waiter covered the table with a white linen tablecloth. She watched as he briskly set the table with two plates, silverware and wineglasses, then placed a vase with a single red rose in the center.
“Dinner for two.” Dexter slipped the waiter a generous tip, then turned to her. “I thought we’d probably be too tired to go out to eat after the long car trip, so I took the liberty of ordering something for us. I guess I should have checked with you first.”
“You certainly should have.” She walked over to the table, her stomach growling. “It smells delicious.”
Dexter joined her, removing the silver covers from both plates. “Amy told me you like filet mignon.”
She looked up at him, inordinately pleased that he’d cared enough to ask. “It’s my favorite.”
He nodded. “Good.” Then he pulled out a chair for her. “Shall we?”
Kylie sat down, still a little stunned. Dexter had not only been thoughtful enough to order dinner, but he’d called Amy to find out her favorite food. It made her feel a little tingly inside and…special.
“Wine?” he asked, holding up the carafe of merlot.
“Yes, please,” she replied, handing him her glass. “And I insist on paying for dinner.”
“Too late,” he said, filling her wineglass, then his own. “This is my treat.”
She arched a brow as he took a seat across from her. “I thought you just agreed to follow my orders.”
“True. But I ordered this dinner before our agreement, so it doesn’t count.”
She sighed. “You’re not going to let me win this argument, are you, Harry?”
He smiled. “No. But I will let you make a toast.”
She picked up her wineglass. “To the success of How To Jump-Start Your Love Life. May it sell a gazillion copies and make Handy Press a household name.”
“To success,” Dexter said, an enigmatic gleam in his eye. Then he lightly clinked his glass against hers.
Kylie took a sip of the wine, the smooth bouquet telling her it was an expensive label. Then she picked up the white linen napkin and laid it on her lap. “So tell me, Harry, what made you become a gigolo?”
Dexter froze, his fork halfway to his mouth. After a moment, he said, “Why do you ask?”
She shrugged as she dabbed butter onto her baked potato. “I’m just curious. You’re the first male escort I’ve ever met. You have to admit it’s quite an unusual occupation.”
“You can say that again,” he muttered.
“Do you like the work?”
He looked up at her, his gaze lingering on her mouth. “It has its moments.”
She knew he was remembering that kiss last night and she wondered if it had affected him at all. “So how many women have you…worked for.”
He gave her a smile that made her toes curl. “I’m afraid that information is confidential.”
“You mean gigolos don’t ever kiss and tell?”
“Something like that.”
As Kylie ate her dinner, she wondered why Dexter seemed so reluctant to part with any information about himself. She knew nothing about him except that he worked for Studs-R-Us and his first-grade teacher was named Miss Ames.
Did he have any family? Friends? Women he saw outside of work? The last thought sent an uneasy chill through her, even though it was entirely possible. The only reason Dexter was having dinner with her right now was because she was paying him to do so. True, he’d paid for the dinner, but for all she knew he could be using money from an expense account. Mrs. Brubaker had told her Studs-R-Us had a commitment to making certain all their customers were completely satisfied.
“So what made you become a publicist?”
She looked up at him, startled from her thoughts by his question. Then she gave a small shrug. “I like people. And I love being able to bring out the best parts of them. So many people have good qualities that they can’t see for themselves. Like you, for instance.”
“Me?”
“You’re very handsome, Harry.”
He gaze dropped to his plate. “Since my makeover, you mean.”
She shook her head. “No, you were handsome before. But you almost seemed to be hiding it. As if you didn’t want the world to know anything about the man underneath the glasses and the three-piece suit.”
He stared at her for a long moment. “That’s who I really am.”
“Is it?”
He set down his fork. “I learned a long time ago that it doesn’t do any good to pretend to be someone else. You’re not only fooling other people, you’re fooling yourself. The one thing I refuse to be is a fool.”
Kylie could hear a strange undercurrent in his tone, but couldn’t place it. Was it anger? Pain? Or just naked honesty. His words made her more confused than ever. Was there really such a thing as an insecure gigolo?
She picked up her wineglass. “I think you’re forgetting that a lot of women are attracted to the strong, shy, silent type.”
“Are you?” he interjected, his gaze fixed intently on her face.
She opened her mouth, then closed it again. Admitting that she’d been very drawn to him from the first time she saw him would definitely be crossing the line from professional to personal. And she’d made a vow to herself not to do that anymore. A lesson learned the hard way.
“I’m speaking as a publicist,” she replied at last. “In my experience, women find something inordinately sexy about a man who doesn’t try to flaunt his sexuality.”
He reached for his wineglass. “Or at least they say they do.”
His implied rebuke stung. “And I suppose men are the epitome of honesty when they say they’re looking for a witty, intelligent woman rather than a set of measurements?”
His eyes twinkled. “Can’t we have both?”
She
