they? And since when did he ever let anyone tell him whom he could or couldn’t pursue?
“What makes you think something is bothering me?”
“That’s why I agreed to dinner,” she said. “You looked as though you needed a sympathetic ear.”
She certainly looked sympathetic, which for some reason surprised him. He never imagined her having a soft side. But he wasn’t one to air his troubles. Although, would it hurt to play the pity card this one time? And maybe, in the process, do his job and convince Victoria to stay with the hotel?
He pulled in a deep, contemplative breath, then blew it out. “Family issues,” he said, keeping it cryptic. Baiting her. But if he expected her to try to drag it out of him, boy, had he been wrong.
She just sat there sipping her wine, waiting for him to continue.
He dropped another crumb. “Suffice it to say that the family wasn’t happy to hear that you’re not staying with the Royal Inn.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
“I’ve been instructed to do whatever it takes to convince you to stay.”
If she was flattered, it didn’t show on her face. “But that isn’t what’s bothering you,” she said.
Who was baiting whom here?
Though he’d had no intention of telling her what was really said, he supposed that if anyone could understand a backstabbing, meddling family, it was her.
“I’ve been asked by the family not to pursue you socially.”
A grin tipped up the corners of her mouth. “In other words, don’t sleep with me.”
Her candor surprised him a little, but then, what did she have to lose? This was only a temporary position for her. “That was the gist of it, yes.”
“And that upsets you?”
“Wouldn’t it upset you?”
“I suppose. But then, I don’t have a notorious reputation for sleeping with my employees.”
He couldn’t help but wonder where she’d heard that. “According to whom?”
“The girls in the palace office talk.”
He couldn’t exactly deny it, but still he felt…offended. Whom he dated was no one’s concern. Especially the girls in the office. “What else did the girls have to say about me?”
“Are you sure you want to know?”
Did he? Did it even matter? When had he ever cared what people thought of him?
But curiosity got the best of him. “I’m a big boy. I think I can handle it.”
“They told me that your assistants never last more than a few weeks.”
Again, he couldn’t deny it. But that was just the nature of business. Assistants’ positions notoriously had a high turnover rate. Most were overworked and underpaid.
Were the girls in the office taking that into account?
Not to say that he was an unfair employer. But he didn’t owe anyone an explanation.
“And I’m not your usual type.”
“I have a type?”
“Tall, leggy, impressed by your power and position.”
Could he help that people were impressed by his title?
“Oh, and they told me that you objectify women,” she added. “But I already knew that.”
Wait, what? He objectified women? “No, I don’t.”
She looked a little surprised by his denial. “Yes, you do.”
“I have nothing but respect for women. I love women.”
“Maybe that’s part of the problem.”
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” And why did he even care what she thought of him?
“This is upsetting you,” she said. “Maybe we should just drop it.”
“No. I want to know how it is that I objectify women.”
She studied him for a minute, then asked, “How many different women have you dated in the last month?”
“What does that have to do with anything?”
“Humor me.”
“Eight or ten, maybe.” Maybe more. In fact, if he counted the casual encounters in bars or clubs that led back to his bedroom, that number was probably closer to fifteen. But that didn’t mean anything. Wanting to play the field, not wanting to settle down yet, did not equate into disrespect for the opposite sex.
“What were their names?” she asked.
That one stopped him. “What do you mean?”
“Their names. The women you dated. They had names, right?”
“Of course.”
“So, what were they?”
He frowned. That was a lot of names. Faces he could remember, or body types. Hair color, even eye color. Names he wasn’t so good with.
“I’ll make it easy for you. Of the last twenty girls you dated, give me three names,” she said.
Three names? What about the blonde from the bar last week. The bank teller with the large and plunging…portfolio. It was something simple. A J name. Jenny, Julie, Jeri. Or maybe it was Sara.
He was usually pretty good under pressure, but now he was drawing a blank.
“You can’t do it, can you?” Victoria said, looking pleased with herself. “Here’s an easy one. How about your last assistant? What was her name?”
Now this one he knew. Tall, brunette. Low, sultry voice…
It was right there, on the tip of his tongue.
“Oh, come on,” she said. “Even I know this.”
He took a guess, which he knew was probably a bad idea. “Diane.”
“Her name was Rebecca.”
“Well, she looked like a Diane to me.” Mostly he’d just called her honey, or sweetheart, so he wouldn’t have to remember her name. Because after a while they all just sort of bled together. But that didn’t mean anything.
She shook her head. “That’s really sad.”
“So I’m not great with names.
