The Personal Touch

“How about your uncle, Gabe?” he asked.

Carmen frowned. “Gabe doesn’t speak English.”

“I’m not picky.”

“You need to be. The wrong man could make everything worse.”

“I don’t need worse,” he agreed.

“You need Margot.” She jotted a note on a pad and handed it to him.

“Who’s Margot?”

“My friend and only the best dating counselor in West L.A.”

“Oh, no. My mother will never agree to a dating service.” He shook his head with conviction. “Even if I could brighten her opinion of matchmakers, she wouldn’t see one now after the fight she had with Marge. It would be like admitting Marge was right, and Mom’s way too stubborn for that.” He crumpled the paper in his hand and tossed it back to Carmen. “Sorry. I need a Plan B.”

She took the note and smoothed it back out. “Talk to her anyway. I’m serious. She’s the one who got Nico and me together without even trying, and she’s got plenty of clients your mother’s age. If you talk to her, I’m sure the two of you will figure something out.”

He scoffed. “My weekend was destroyed thanks to my mother and her opinions about matchmakers.”

“Margot’s not just a matchmaker. She’s a counselor for singles. Your mom doesn’t even need to know you’ve spoken with her. Just seek her out for the advice.” She handed the note back to Clint. “Aren’t you the one who always said if you want a job done right, hire a professional?”

“I was referring to construction.”

“It’s true for everything. Your mom needs a new man in her life. Margot can tell you how to make that happen.”

Clint stared at the wrinkled page. Though a year ago he would have felt otherwise, the thought of his mother remarried to a nice guy now seemed like a dream come true. He’d love to have things back the way they used to be, her busy with her own life and him enjoying his. But Carmen was right. His mother had already been through enough. He didn’t want to see her hurt all over again by a dating game that could often be cruel and dangerous. Heck, the last time the woman was single, Jimmy Carter was president. Things had changed.

“Trust me,” Carmen said. “You won’t be sorry.”

“Famous last words.” But he tucked the note in his pocket anyway. He had to do something to fix this situation before his relationship with his mother was ruined forever. And the way things were going, that’s exactly where this would end.

“SHE MADE this funny noise when we had sex.”

Margot Roth stared at her client, not sure she wanted him to elaborate on that comment. The woman he was talking about had been Margot’s hairstylist for years and this conversation bordered on TMI—too much information. Not that Margot hadn’t had discussions like this before. To be successful as a dating counselor, she’d often had to peel back the layers of a client’s most intimate issues. She only wondered if she could sit for two hours every eight weeks having her highlights retouched knowing these kinds of details about her stylist, Gail.

Curiosity got the best of her.

“What kind of funny noise?”

He wrinkled his nose. “Sort of a…whistle in her nose…kind of a growling thing…” He checked his perfectly manicured fingernails. “Maybe a clicking kind of thing.”

She stared at him blankly. “Well, what is it, David? A whistle, growl or a click?”

He sucked in a big breath and let it out. “Maybe all three, maybe none. I don’t know.” He tossed his head to the side to whip the dark bangs from his eyes, and when Margot fell silent and waited for a more solid answer, he rose to his feet and began pacing.

David was clearly anxious and frustrated. This was the third woman Margot had paired him with, each one more perfect for him than the last, yet something kept holding him back. And after six weeks of getting to know him, digging deeper and deeper into his psyche, Margot was almost certain she knew what it was. She just didn’t know if he was ready to hear it.

“David,” she said. “How do you feel about Gail on a personal level?”

He stopped his pacing and smiled brightly. “Oh, she’s great. Every time we’re together we talk all night. You’re totally right about her. In fact, I scored some tickets to the Indie Film Festival next month and I’ve asked her to go with me. We’ll have a blast.”

“It’s only on an intimate level that you aren’t quite connecting.”

He seemed relieved that she understood. “Exactly. I just don’t feel that way about her, and I don’t know how to tell her.”

“You have to be honest with her. And don’t waste time doing it. If you truly value her friendship and want it to continue, you’ve got to be kind but frank about this. Leading her on will only make things worse when the truth does come out.”

It was advice Margot often doled out. She was a stickler about open communication when it came to relationships, and she wasn’t above canceling a contract with a client who couldn’t be honest with his or her partner.

“I don’t want to lead her on. But I was kind of hoping maybe you could talk to—”

Margot shook her head before he could finish the sentence. “She needs to hear it from you.” Then she gave him a reassuring smile. “Besides, I know you can do it. You’re a kind, gentle man, David. You’ll find the right way to talk to her about this and everything will be fine.”

That is, everything will be fine between David and Gail. Getting to the bottom of David’s intimacy issues in general would be a little touchier.

Though Margot had a bachelor’s degree in counseling and psychology, she wasn’t trained to handle the deeper emotional issues she sometimes ran into in her line of work. Usually, once she suspected there was more going on with a client than the need to learn some social skills or find the right companion, she referred them to one of the many trained professionals she had on file.

And after this date with Gale, Margot debated whether David was one of those candidates.

“You’re right,” he said. “I can talk to her. And I will. But…” he bit his lip. “Where does that leave us? I mean, I’m really looking for a soul mate, and Gail isn’t it.”

Nor was any other woman, if Margot’s suspicions were correct. And they usually were. With David, it had taken her a couple dates to figure out that he might be struggling with his sexuality. And now, after his date with Gail, she was sure of it. She only hesitated wondering whether or not he was ready to face the truth.

She pursed her lips and studied him, looking for some kind of sign that might tell her how he’d react to the suggestion he might be gay. There was such an innocence about him, an almost boyish sweetness that had her caring more for his feelings than for their business relationship. She didn’t want to throw reality in his face if he wasn’t prepared to consider it.

“You know, actually,” he finally said, “some guys I know are going down to Cabo for a long weekend. They’ve asked me to go along.”

“What kind of guys?” The question slipped from her lips before she could consider the insinuation in it.

“A guy I know from work and a few of his friends.”

She waited for him to elaborate, and when he didn’t, she simply said, “Sounds like fun.”

He nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, it will be. And I was thinking maybe we’d put off any more dates until after I get back from this trip.”

A sense of relief eased the tension in Margot’s shoulders. Maybe David was ready to explore the truth.

“I think that’s a great idea.”

He looked as though he was about to say something else, but then he rose to his feet instead. “I’ll call Gail tonight.”

Margot stood with him. “I know you two will be fine,” she assured him. In truth, she’d already spoken with Gail and the two women had come to the same conclusion. He’d make a great friend, but when it came to life partners, he was probably drafting from the wrong team.

She followed him out to the reception area of the office she shared with her partner, Alan Immendorf. She and Alan together owned Intimates, a full-service relationship counseling center for men and women who’ve had trouble finding that special person. Most of the time, their clients were people who, because of their careers or other obligations, didn’t have the time to go searching the usual places for a date. Many didn’t know where to go or how to approach the opposite sex. And then others needed deeper help in understanding themselves and getting real about the type of person they were looking for—David being an extreme example.

And though it was the latter group she usually had the most trouble with, they could also be the most rewarding. The ones she truly felt would have spent the bulk of their lives frustrated and confused if it weren’t for the help she provided.

Margot had been a romantic her whole life. Couple that with a keen instinct when it came to people and she’d found quick success in her choice of profession. And when she paired up with Alan, her gay business partner who handled many of their clients with alternative lifestyles, the two had come together to create what was becoming one of the more notable firms in their field.

“So you’ll call me when you get back from Cabo,” she said as she led David through the reception area toward the front door. “I think the trip will be good for you. I’m looking forward to hearing how it went.”

He smiled. “I will.” And when he walked out onto the street, she knew for certain the man who came back would be changed.

“When are you going to hand him over?”

She jumped at Alan’s voice behind her. “What were you doing, lurking behind the palms? You scared the daylights out of me.”

“I heard your voices and came to see how it went. Were you and Gail right?”

“I’m guessing if he returns as a client, it will be as one of yours instead of mine.”

She told Alan about her meeting with David and his upcoming trip to Cabo San Lucas, and when she was done, Alan regarded her with a cocky grin. “I told you he wasn’t just metrosexual.”

“Oh, stop acting like you’ve got a sixth sense. Your gaydar didn’t go off any sooner than mine did.”

“No, but I’ll be happy to steal your client if he still needs our services.”

“I’m thinking he won’t, but if I’m wrong, he’s all yours.”

Alan laughed and handed her a note. “This call came into the main line during your appointment. Some guy named Clint Hilton. Carmen referred him to you.”

“That’s her boss. Did he say what he wanted?”

“Your services, apparently.”

Margot stared at the paper in her hand. Though she’d never met Carmen’s boss, she’d heard plenty about him and found it highly implausible he’d need a dating counselor. From what she understood, the man had no problem finding women.

“I can’t see why. He doesn’t fit the profile.”

“Well, you’re about to find out. He’ll be here any minute.”

“What?”

“He had another appointment in the neighborhood and wanted to drop by afterward. I told him you were in but I couldn’t guarantee you’d be available.” When Alan noted the quizzical look in her eye, he added, “You can hide out in your office if you want me to get rid of him.”

“No, I don’t mind talking with him. I’m just caught a little off guard, is all. I would have liked to have talked with Carmen first to see what this is about.”

“So go call her. If he shows up, I’ll have him wait. My next appointment isn’t for a while.”

“Maybe I will.”

But before she could duck into her office, she heard the front door open.

Margot had never seen Clint Hilton before, but based on the stories she’d heard from Carmen, she knew with all certainty the tall, drop-dead sexy man approaching them was him.

He strolled in with the casual ease of a man accustomed to dominating the space around him. Relaxed and calm, as though he could find common ground with a mechanic or a millionaire banker alike. His shoulders were broad and his hands worn. He wasn’t simply the paper-pushing end of the contracting business he owned, and the sun-kissed highlights in his dirty blond hair didn’t come from a bottle.

He was the genuine article. A West L.A. version of the Marlboro Man, if such a thing existed.

A dark pair of Armanis covered his eyes and his brown leather Oxfords were unmistakably Santoni. Along with the stainless steel Rolex, business-casual slacks and tailored dress shirt, she guessed he was wearing a fortune worth more than her car. Yet there was nothing stuffy or presumptuous about his appearance. He wore the ensemble as though he’d thrown it on the same way the rest of the world slipped into a pair of sweats and sneakers.

As the door closed behind him he smiled, revealing a set of perfectly white teeth. His grin pressed dimples into the strong hollows of his cheeks and set off a chain reaction she felt straight to her toes. And when he pulled off his shades, the gaze from his deep blue eyes seemed to slip straight under her skin, sending a shiver through her veins that stole her speech and garbled her thoughts.

She stood there gaping while Alan held out a hand in her rescue. “You must be Clint Hilton. We spoke on the phone.”

Clint turned the lethal smile away, allowing her to momentarily catch her breath and recollect some basic facts—like her name.

What was wrong with her? Rich and handsome men walked into their offices all the time, yet today she stood there like an awed, giddy groupie. She lied and told herself it was resonant fluster from her meeting with David. Or maybe her blood sugar was low, the blueberry muffin she’d had for breakfast coming back to haunt her.

That had to explain the light-headed dizziness that had just come over her because either of those things was better than admitting an instant crush on her best friend’s boss.

“Yes, I’m Clint.” He shook Alan’s hand with vigor. “Alan, good to meet you.”

Tucking his sunglasses into his shirt pocket, he turned the hand to Margot. “Margot Roth?” When she nodded, he added, “Carmen regards you very highly.”

She accepted the handshake while mentally pulling herself together. If Clint had come seeking her professional services, now wasn’t the time to act like a babbling idiot.

“If this is a bad time, I can make an appointment,” he offered. “I’m renovating a building over on 6th and happened to be in the area.”

“The old Fuller building. I’m familiar with it,” she managed to utter.

He quirked a smile that said he was impressed and she marveled over why that excited her so.

He’s just a man. An incredibly sexy man. And in case you’ve forgotten, you’ve already found Mr. Wonderful.

The memory of Rob, the man she’d started dating a month ago, brought her feet back down to earth. Now, Rob was the man she should be getting silly over. Perfect for her in every way.

And as a woman in the business of forming lasting relationships, she should know.

So she did her best to set her lust aside and get to work. “I’ve got time. If you’d like, we could meet now.”

He slapped his big hands together. “Great. I’m anxious to see what you can do for me.”

His choice of words sparked a number of inappropriate responses, but she held them all in check, insistent on shaking off this strange reaction of hers.

Rob, think of Rob, she thought. And money. Lots of money. A new client always made for a good day, and with a heavy mortgage on a brand-new condo, she could use all the business she could get.

So with those thoughts firmly fixed in her mind, she set off down the hall to find out exactly what she could do for the sexy Clint Hilton.

3

MARGOT ROTH was cute. That was the impression that lingered in Clint’s mind as he stood in her downtown office with her and her partner, Alan. Her round face complemented a wide mouth and big brown eyes. She was shorter than average, Clint doubted she’d hit five-five in three-inch heels, and her figure was curved and fleshy. Definitely girl-next-door with her shoulder-length brown hair and bright, unassuming smile. Nothing like the tall, chiseled beauties he typically gravitated to.

Which was why it puzzled him that he couldn’t seem to keep his eyes off her.

He followed as she moved toward a short corridor and down the hall, his gaze continually dipping to the bottom half of her hourglass figure. He liked the way it looked wrapped up in those coffee-brown slacks—shapely and touchable, firm but entirely feminine. Her legs were lengthened by high-heeled sandals that had something sparkly on them, like rhinestones or glitter, and her white ruffled blouse topped her off like whipped cream on a hot fudge sundae.

“Have a seat,” he heard her say, and it was only then he realized they’d actually entered her office. He quickly darted his eyes somewhere respectable before she caught him gawking and labeled him a perv. He didn’t typically give every woman the full Hilton once-over, but then again, it wasn’t every woman who flew into his radar like Margot Roth had.

Taking in his surroundings, he was surprised by the antique furniture in her office. The reception area had been ultra contemporary with bright-colored sofas, tall, sleek palms and bold canvas artwork. This room was like stepping into another world. A large mahogany table took the place of her desk. Queen Anne, if he knew his furniture. And she’d played the rest of the room off it with an antique sideboard subbing for a credenza, large, chunky bookcases framing the back wall and a deep burgundy Persian rug defining the space.

It occurred to him that it fit her, rich and textured, comfortable and calm, and the more he saw of Ms. Roth, the more she intrigued him.

She gestured to one of the two cushioned chairs facing her, and he took the one closest, edging it away from the table to give room for his long frame. After she’d gathered a pad and pen, she smiled and asked, “So how can I help you, Mr. Hilton?”

He cleared his throat and tried to recall why he was there—a minute detail that seemed to have slipped his mind in the short moments between his car and her office.

“My mother,” he said. “She’s in need of a companion.” Then he added abruptly, “A male companion.”

She winked. “I’d assumed as much since we don’t breed dogs here.”

His laugh was heartier than it should have been. “I tried that one already. Now I’ve got a bored mother and a dog.”

“So she’s looking for a gentleman now.”

“Well, she’s not exactly looking. I am. I was hoping you could give me some pointers on how I can find her a date…or two.”

She quirked her brow. “I’m not sure I understand, Mr. Hilton. You want to find a companion for your mother, but you’d like to do it yourself?”

He didn’t like the look in her eyes or her skeptical tone. In business, it was always the first sign of a deal going bad.

“Maybe I should start at the beginning.”

He gave her a brief rundown of his parent’s thirty-five year marriage and then skipped to these last six months. That was when his mother seemed to have settled with the idea of life after his father, and that his brother’s assignment in Afghanistan wasn’t a death sentence. She’d gotten past her worries and her mourning and had officially entered the stage of healing called Drive Clint Crazy.

Margot made a number of notes as he spoke, and when he was done, she set the pen down and asked, “Have you suggested your mother get a place of her own?”

“Every time I feel like watching her burst into tears.”

She nodded and considered for a moment. “So she doesn’t feel capable of living on her own, but you feel she’s ready for a relationship.”

“My mother’s capable and ready. She’s just afraid of being left forgotten and alone. It’s unfounded, but unfortunately she’s not giving me the chance to prove otherwise. If I were a psychiatrist, I’d say she feels she’s lost her husband and youngest son. Sticking at my house is her unconscious way of making sure she doesn’t lose me, too. Of course, that’s just a guess. I’m not a psychiatrist.”

“No, but you’d like to be a matchmaker.”

Ouch. He’d walked right into that one.

He studied her for an extra beat and damn, if he didn’t sizzle over her no-nonsense style. He liked sharp women who weren’t intimidated by him. Thanks to his wealth and reputation as one of the area’s premier builders, it wasn’t always easy finding them.

He scanned the room, now curious to know if she was single. There weren’t any family portraits on the antique tabletop, and her ring finger was bare, but that didn’t always mean much.

Had Carmen mentioned anything he’d forgotten?

“What exactly are you hoping to get from me, Mr. Hilton?”

“Clint.”

“Okay, Clint.”

“Well—for a fee, of course—I’d like advice on how I can find a nice man for my mother.”

“I’d be more than happy to meet with your mother.”

“Yeah, well…” He scratched the back of his neck. “I would love for you to meet my mother. The problem is, she’s a little skeptical when it comes to matchmakers.”

“That’s not uncommon. I’m sure if she came to the office and we talked—”

“No, that’s not going to work.”

When she raised a brow, he gave in and told her about Palm Springs and the fight between his mother and Marge. He hadn’t wanted to go there, fearing he’d insult Margot’s profession, but the more he spoke with her, the more he gathered straight talk would get him farther than charm.

“Unfortunately, I think you’re mistaken about what I do here.” She slid a glossy brochure across the table. “I’m a dating counselor. And yes, I do bring couples together, but successful matchmaking isn’t something that can be summed up in a couple tips. Much of what I do is consultative. I know all my clients very well, and while there are a number of indicators that can make two people likely candidates for each other, I ultimately work off instinct. It’s what differentiates my practice from the typical survey-style dating services.”

“I didn’t mean to diminish your profession.”

That pleasant smile returned. “No offense taken. I’m only saying that if you want my help in finding a man for your mother, I’d need to meet her. Anything short of that would just be things like—” she shrugged “—suggesting she try volunteer work, or maybe join a local garden club or a gym that caters to people her age.”

“She’s already done that.”

“Does she belong to a church or synagogue?”

He shook his head. “It’s not that my mother doesn’t get out. It’s that she’s forgotten how to be single. She doesn’t know how to act around men so she comes across flippant and disinterested. And I think she’s a little scared.”

She kept an understanding expression as he explained, and as he talked to her, he began to believe Carmen had been right in sending him here. He liked Margot’s style. Not only did she come across confident and capable, there was something approachable about her that kept him at ease, as though he were talking to a good friend.

A good, sexy friend.

“These issues are very normal for people in your mother’s situation,” she said. “Many of my clients share those same fears.”

“Men my mother’s age?”

“A good percentage of my clients are in her age group, yes.”

Damn, the woman was perfect for him. Carmen was right. Now he only needed to figure a way to make use of her services. He wondered if it was possible to change his mother’s mind about matchmakers. But then he remembered her hour-long rant about Marge and realized it wasn’t going to happen.

“But keep in mind, I can’t help your mother if she isn’t ready to date again,” Margot pointed out.

“I know my mother would be open to dating if she felt more confident with herself. She just needs some help. She needs to brush up on her conversation skills, learn to put out the vibe.”

Margot blinked. “The vibe?”

“Sure, the vibe.” He flashed his favorite half-cocked smile, the one that caught a woman’s attention one hundred percent of the time. And when Margot’s eyelids fluttered in response, his playful side couldn’t help but take the bait.