When he sees my expression, he chuckles as he finishes rolling up his sleeves. “I’m kidding. I never strip for clients. And I’m sorry if removing my jacket got you excited, but I’m simply getting comfortable. Suits aren’t my usual thing, and I always feel like an imposter when I wear one.”
“But then again, don’t you make your living out of being an imposter?” He flashes me a look, but I hold up my hands in defense. “I’m not being a bitch. That’s a legitimate question.”
I pull out my phone and start recording again.
Max eyes the device as he walks back to the table. “How much do you know about what I do?”
I’m surprised when he sits adjacent to me instead of on the opposite side. Is he torturing me on purpose with his stupid pheromones?
As much as I hate to admit it, having him this close is distracting, so I adjust my position to put a little more space between us.
“Well,” I say. “I’ve heard you act out romance novel scenarios. Play different characters and whatnot.”
He presses his lips together. “I guess if you break it down into basic terms, that’s accurate, but it’s not as simple as throwing on a dime-store costume and saying lines. A lot of planning and research goes into every encounter.”
“Is that why prospective clients have to fill out a questionnaire thicker than some books?”
He nods. “That’s a big part of it. Learning about a client’s life history and what she’s passionate about helps me predict her behavior. And sometimes figuring out what it is she’s not telling me is most important.”
“So, they don’t just stipulate that they want you to be a sexy cowboy, or biker boy, or whatever?”
“They can, but that doesn’t mean that’s what they’ll get. Their favorite books and movies tell me a lot about what they crave from their escapism.”
“Uh huh. So, what did my list say about me?”
He chuckles. “A lot. In fact, it’s what tipped me off that you weren’t who you said you were. Not a big believer in happy endings, are you, Miss Tate?”
“No, because I’m a grownup, and I know damn well the only real happy endings are those that occur in certain massage parlors.”
“I’m not disagreeing, but most of us like to escape the dark reality of our existence through entertainment. But not you. In fact, I don’t think I’ve ever seen so many books that deal with a bleak, dystopian future on one list before. It makes me wonder what you do for fun.”
“You don’t think I have fun?” He gives a non-committal shrug, which immediately puts me on the defensive. “Oh, I have fun, Mr. Riley. Believe me. You’d be surprised by the amount of fun I have.”
“When was the last time you had some?”
I start to say the other night when we were playing pool, but it will be Turtleneck Tuesday at Hooters before I admit that I enjoyed being with him.
I ignore his question and move on. “Tell me about your fee. It’s kind of outrageous, don’t you think?”
He takes a sip of water. “We all need money to survive. I’m not deceiving anyone about the price of my services.”
“So you think you’re worth five-thousand dollars per date?”
Something flashes in his eyes, and it looks a lot like shame.
He gazes down at the table. “I’d like to tell you money isn’t important to me, but it is. I’m not going to apologize for that.”
Max goes quiet and stays that way as Georgios and four waiters bring in a selection of platters and plates, as well as our wine.
After everyone’s gone, Max pushes a plate overflowing with chargrilled meat and vegetables toward me. “Go ahead. I can feel how hungry you are.”
He’s not wrong. I’m salivating so hard right now, I have to swallow several times before I open my mouth to reply. “Do you want to pause the interview while we eat?”
He shrugs. “Doesn’t matter to me. I don’t think you’re going to end up publishing this article, so I’m easy either way. It usually only takes one date for a woman to fall for me. I stipulated three for you, because I’ve discovered you’re completely closed to the concept of romance enriching your life. Three gives me a little more time to crack you.” With that, he pops a chunk of bread into his mouth.
“Wait,” I say, gobsmacked. “You think I’m going to fall in love with you?”
He chuckles. “No.” He takes a sip of wine and smiles. “I know it.”
I’m rendered speechless by his ridiculousness, and that just makes him smile even more.
“If you think I’ll be easily swayed by your charms,” I say as I spoon food onto my plate, “you’re going to be disappointed.”
He closes his hand over mine, and I take in a tight breath as he gently strokes my skin. “Are you forgetting your reaction to Kieran? If you think you’re immune to my charms, you’re fooling yourself.”
I pull my hand away and ignore how fiercely it tingles as I place it in my lap. “So, you don’t think any woman can resist you?”
“I’m sure plenty of women could. But you? No. You’re so starved of romance in your life, you’re like an emotional skeleton. I intend to put some meat back on your bones. Make you believe in something other than a bleak apocalypse.”
I’m filled with a sudden and fiery determination to prove him wrong. God, how dare he? Does he think he’s the first man to push my buttons? He has no clue how many inflated egos I’ve smacked down in my life. His will just be one more.
“Well, I guess we’ll see soon enough,” I say.
“I guess we will.”
We eat in silence for a while, and even though I’m still fuming over his outrageous assumptions, I can’t deny he did well with the choice of restaurant. The food is delicious, and I manage to demolish a full plate in less than three minutes.
When I look up, I find Max staring at me.
“What?” I ask, my mouth half full.
“You don’t care what people think of you, do you?”
Embarrassed, I take stock of myself hunched over my plate like a barbarian, shoving food into my mouth as quickly as I can to stave off my hunger pangs. I sit up and daintily dab at my mouth with my napkin, but I’m pretty sure the damage to my ladylike image has already been done.
“Sorry. I was hungry.”
“Don’t be embarrassed. It was a compliment, not a criticism.” He scoops more food onto his plate then adds some to mine. “Plus, that little moan of pleasure you make in the back of your throat every now and then is ... stimulating. Feel free to do that as often as you like.”
The way he says it sends a flash of goosebumps over my skin, but I keep my face impassive. “If that’s an example of the cheesy lines you’ll be hitting me with on our ‘dates’, I’ll go ahead right now and say you don’t have a chance in hell of winning me over.”
He stops what he’s doing. “Miss Tate, you’ll soon discover I don’t have any ‘lines’. Generally, I say what I think, whether I’m in character or not. I rarely lie.”
“You’ll forgive me if I maintain my cynicism about that.”
“Sure. I get the feeling your cynicism is your security blanket in most situations, so go for it.”