The Personal Touch

Holding on to the smile, he lowered his voice and slid his gaze to her lips.

“It’s that unspoken body language that says you’d like to get better acquainted. The look that says you’re intrigued, that maybe sometime before the night is over you’d like to share a drink…or something.”

A heavy swallow slid down her throat and he trailed his eyes lower, down the curve of her neck to the small beaded necklace that hung at her chest. He dotted his gaze over every bead and went on. “It’s an art, you know, letting a person know you’re attracted without saying a word.” He continued down the neckline of her silky white blouse, into the barest hint of cleavage that teased among the ruffles. He lingered there for a pause, letting his mind wander behind the fabric before continuing over her breasts and down her waist. “Some people have mastered it so well they can practically have sex without laying a hand on each other.”

Then he turned his gaze back the way he came, and when it reached her face, he could see the flush in her cheeks had deepened.

Evidently, the look that worked one hundred percent of the time still held its streak.

“Well,” she said with a husky edge that she tried to cough away, “that’s quite a vibe.” She reached for the mug at her side and took a sip. “I’ve got a few clients who could use a look like that.”

“And I’ve got a mother who needs your help. Maybe we could work a trade.”

She blinked back to the moment, though her eyes never left his mouth. “I’m sorry, but as I’ve said I can’t do much without meeting your mother.”

He glanced down at the brochure in front of him. Margot’s list of credentials was long, as were the lengths she went through to make sure her clients were top-notch. She ran background checks, conducted interviews, took references and searched databases he’d never even heard of. Call it instinct. Call it a gut reaction. But he knew without a doubt, Margot was exactly what he needed—someone who understood his mother’s situation and would keep her best interest at heart.

“Then we’ll have to figure out a way for you to meet her.” He leveled his eyes with hers. “Her only problem is with using the services of a matchmaker. She wouldn’t have anything against you personally.”

“I don’t understand.”

Clint didn’t exactly, either. He was thinking out loud, but the more he thought, the more intent he was to get Margot and his mother together.

“Have dinner with us.”

“I won’t lie about my profession if that’s where you’re going.”

“The only thing you need to lie about is the fact that I’ve hired you. We’ll tell her you’re a friend, or—”

“Mr. Hilton, honesty in relationships is one of my core principles.” She flipped the brochure over to show him, and sure enough, there it was right there in big hunter green letters.

“I’m not asking you to date my mother. I’m asking you to get to know her so you can help me find her a man.”

She opened her mouth to argue, but he cut her off with his ace in the hole that always got him what he wanted.

“I’ll pay you five times your regular fee.”

The argument caught in her throat and she sat with her mouth open. “I’m very expensive.”

“I’m very intent on getting your help.”

She didn’t seem to know what to say to that, so he kept going. “It’s simple. We’re honest about everything. I’m renovating the Fuller building on 6th. Where do you typically have lunch?”

“Capras. It’s an Italian deli—”

“I know it well.” He folded his hands and continued. “We met at Capras. I asked you to dinner at my place. That’s all she has to know.”

“I’m not sure…”

She was wavering, but he knew the temptation of money had her considering it. Money always had that effect on people. And to cinch the deal, he went in for the kill.

“Have dinner with me and my mother, once, twice, however many times you need. Be completely up-front and honest about everything, aside from the one little tidbit about me paying you to be there—five times what you usually charge.”

“You have no idea how much that is.”

He resorted back to the winning smile. “I have a feeling you’re worth every penny.”

Her eyes fluttered again and he knew he was on the brink of getting his way.

“My standard contract would have to be altered. This is rather unusual—”

“Write it up as you see fit and send it over to my office.”

She bit her lip and studied the brochure between them. He knew he nearly had her, and the fact that she was asking questions was good.

“I don’t know what guarantee I can offer, with my hands tied, I’m not sure—”

“Guarantee that you’ll have dinner with me and my mother for any set number of times you feel is necessary to offer a consultation.” Then he met those big brown eyes with his most serious and assuring expression. “That’s all I’m asking.”

She stared at him for a long time. Long enough for his conscience to question if he truly wanted this for his mother or if there was a teeny little side of him that wanted a date for himself. Not that he’d ever had to pay a woman to date him. But the sentiment remained. This discussion had left him both intrigued by Margot Roth and nearly certain there was something brewing between them. It was the subtle spark of chemistry he’d felt the second he’d stepped into her office. And through this conversation, that spark wouldn’t die.

If Margot needed to get to know his mother, Clint suspected half the fun could be getting to know Margot in return. A win-win, so to speak. The virtual golden egg when it came to business dealings. Or business dealings that turned to pleasure.

“I’ll do it,” she finally said.

Clint smiled and pulled a business card from his wallet. “I think we’ll make a good team.”

“Maybe I can feel her out. The best solution would be to ultimately warm her up to the idea of using my services. That way, I could offer a standard contract with the standard guarantees. At this point, all I can—”

He rose. “Stop worrying. If I wasn’t sure I’d get my money’s worth, I wouldn’t have made the offer.”

Her smile was laced with trepidation, but he had a sense that the next time he saw her—after she’d had a chance to think this through and come up with an action plan—the sharp and confident Margot Roth would make a grand return. In fact, he’d almost bet on it.

When she pushed from her chair, he offered his hand. “Call me when you’ve got a contract and we can discuss next steps.”

MARGOT TOOK THE HAND of the tall, sexy man who had waltzed into her office and turned her afternoon on end. She could tell by his casual ease that this meeting was simply another stop in an average day for Clint Hilton. Rarely did he walk away without closing a deal, she presumed, and she had to admit, he was good. He’d pushed all the right buttons to have her lapping out of his hands. And as he said his goodbyes and made his way out of her office, she felt she’d just witnessed a master at work.

What had she done? For a woman who worked off strict principles, who believed in demonstrating the same ethics she expected of her clients, she’d somehow managed to throw it all out the window by something as basic as money and charm.

But oh, did Clint Hilton have charm. That sexy look alone nearly had her going along before he’d sunk the eight ball by quintupling her salary. She’d practically felt his fingers running all over her as he’d demonstrated “the vibe.” Heck, she might have offered her services at half price if he’d done it again, and it amazed her that something so primal could hold so much power.

For someone who thought she knew everything about dating, that look was one for the record books. She lowered back to her chair and reached for her water, wishing it was something stronger.

“And what did tall, rich and handsome want from you?”

Margot looked up to see Alan standing in her doorway. He was a tall, tanned man with a voice smooth as syrup and a calming manner that always put her at ease. Except today, it would take more than her business partner to shake the effects of Clint Hilton from her nerves. And only when she spoke and heard the trembling in her own voice did she realize the ramifications of what she’d done.

“I think I just agreed to be his girlfriend.”

4

MARGOT SPENT the bulk of her afternoon drawing up a contract for Clint after consulting with Alan and running the details by her lawyer. Though she could have e-mailed the final document to Clint’s office before leaving for the day, she decided to sleep on it instead. Not only did she want to give the ad hoc contract a fresh read-through in the morning, she also didn’t want to look too eager in Clint’s eyes.

That had been Alan’s suggestion, and one of the first things he’d schooled her on when they’d gone into business together five years ago. When it came to people with money, never look like you need their business.

As a military brat who’d grown up entirely middle-class, Margot never once scoffed at Alan’s advice on L.A.’s upper crust. And she’d done well for it. She wasn’t going to start ignoring him now.

“Well, I’m off to spend a quiet evening with the girls,” Alan announced from her doorway. The “girls” were the twin beagles, Lucy and Ethel, that Alan shared with his life partner, Gene.

“Gene’s not back from his conference?” she asked.

“No, and it’s still raining in Boston. He called this morning to say he was freezing his ass off.”

“You didn’t tell him about our heat wave, did you?”

Alan chuckled. “He’d already heard. Anyway, I’m off. You’ll lock up?”

“Yes, and thanks again for your advice today. It really helped having someone else to brainstorm this contract with.”

“I don’t suppose it’s every day you’re contracting yourself out as a fake girlfriend.”

She wiggled her eyebrows. “For five times my regular fee.”

“Yeah, well, I wouldn’t repeat that in too many circles,” Alan replied, chuckling. “People will get the wrong impression about what we’re selling here at Intimates.”

Margot snorted. “I don’t think anyone would mistake me for a high-priced hooker. I don’t have the legs for it.” Then she looked down her chest. “Or the rack.”

“I’m sure Rob would disagree.”

The mention of her boyfriend doused the smile on her face. “Gosh, Rob, I forgot all about him. I really should call and make sure he doesn’t have a problem with this.”

“Why would he?”

Margot couldn’t think of a reason. She was certain he’d be fine with what, for all intents and purposes, was a few casual business dinners. But she and Rob had barely been dating a month, and with her feelings for him growing stronger by the minute, she didn’t want any misunderstandings interfering with their budding relationship.

“I’m sure he won’t,” she agreed. “But I’ll call just the same.”

When Alan said his goodbyes and left, she locked the door behind him and made the call.

“Sloan Enterprises,” she heard Rob say.

She put on her lowest and most breathy voice. “Hey, sexy.”

The line fell silent for an instant before he finally replied, “Margot?”

“Yes, silly. Who else would it be?”

“Uh, I don’t know.”

“Don’t tell me your mother calls you sexy because that would be kind of weird, and I’ve already had enough weirdness today.”

The befuddled tone in his voice relaxed and he laughed. “Hardly, babe. You’re the only one who talks dirty to me.”

“You sound distracted. Did I catch you at a bad time?”

“No, not at all. What’s up?”

Sitting back in her chair, she kicked off her shoes and told him about her day and the new client she’d taken on. It felt good relaxing like this and reflecting over the day’s events with someone like Rob. It reminded her of her parents, how the two had always unwound in the evenings while her mother cooked dinner and her father went through the mail. They were comfortable and easy together. Two partners in the business of running a family and sharing their lives. Margot had always wanted a relationship like that, and had been smart and patient enough to wait for the right man to come along. And when she’d met Rob, she’d known he was the one.

She’d taken notice when they’d met at a charity function the month before. The two had been seated next to each other at a dinner to raise money for the women’s shelter where she volunteered and had hit it off before the salads were served. In the span of the two-hour dinner, they’d discovered the same tastes in movies, music, books and sports. They were both raised in similar households, their families traveling often due to Rob’s father’s career in sales and Margot’s life as the daughter of a Marine. They were the middle children in their respective families and shared that special understanding of life stuck between the firstborn and the baby.

It seemed the list went on and on—similar career aspirations, ideas about family and friends, politics and religion. On paper, she and Rob were about as perfect as they came. And in the weeks since that first date, Margot had become almost certain she’d met that ideal life partner she’d been waiting for.

“I think that’s great,” Rob said when she’d finished her story about Clint.

“So you don’t have a problem with me pretending to be another man’s girlfriend for the next few weeks?”

“Of course not.”

A smile spread across her lips. She loved his faith and trust in her, and it underscored the feeling that she’d found her Mr. Right.

From the time Margot and her friends had entered their teen years, Margot had good instincts when it came to putting men and women together. So much so that by the time she’d graduated high school, she’d known her future was in matchmaking.

Ten years later, she was doing exactly that. She had a solid list of clients and a growing list of success stories. And now that she’d met Rob, she could count herself among them.

“I have to confess, I have reservations about accepting the fee he’s offering,” she told Rob. “It seems excessive, even for someone who can afford it.”

“I disagree. I think what he’s paying is just. I mean, think about what you’re providing. For one, you’re making house calls. And two, he’s expecting you to find his mother a date with one hand tied behind your back. That’s definitely worth the bump in pay.”

She hadn’t thought of it that way.

“It’s going to be a challenge,” she admitted.

“And you’ll rise to it, I’m sure. You’re very competent, Margot. I think you’ll have fun trying to figure out how to hook this woman up without thinking she’s using a matchmaker.”

Her heart swelled with his assurance. “Thank you.”

“You’ll do fine. Instead of worrying, you should celebrate your new client.”

“That’s a great idea. How about we have dinner tonight? You might even coax me into cooking.” Which would keep him at her place for who knew what afterward.

“I’d love to, babe, but I’ve got plans.”

She waited for him to elaborate, and when he didn’t she resisted the urge to pry. “Well, tomorrow maybe.”

“Yeah, give me a call.” She heard papers shuffling before he added, “And speaking of plans, I need to take off now, but I’m glad you called. Congratulations. I’m proud of you, babe.”

“Thanks.”

She wanted to say something more, but she didn’t know what, so she opted for a simple goodbye before hanging up the phone. Though her sensible side told her to keep taking things one day at a time, she had to admit a sense of anxiousness when it came to their relationship. She was so sure of their future together, of him being the ideal man for her in every way, she wished they could skip the formalities of dating and go straight to the altar.

Of course, that went against every rational word of caution she handed out to her friends and clients. She’d never felt that rushing a relationship was prudent, and she intended to heed her own advice. But having some permanence and formality between them would certainly be nice, especially when she considered having to deal with men like Clint Hilton.

Clint’s musky scent still hung in her office, taking her mind back to their meeting this afternoon. She recalled the silky way his gaze had slid over her when he’d demonstrated the vibe. Remnants of that look still tingled in her insides, calling to her in forbidden temptation. Now that she’d seen the man in action, she didn’t doubt all the stories Carmen had told her about him—the womanizing, the playboy vacations in every party spot on the globe. The man had the “It” factor and knew how to use it, which made him dangerous to any woman who didn’t watch herself. Margot had to admit that when he’d caressed that smooth gaze over her body, she’d felt naked and unguarded. Even a little aroused. An engagement ring would make a nice safeguard against a man like Clint. Because while Margot had her preferences set firmly in mind, she had no doubt Clint Hilton could turn a woman stupid with the wink of one crystal blue eye.

Blinking away the thought, she gathered her things and shut the lights in the office. While Clint might have touched her lustful side, her good senses reminded her that Rob was her future, and she’d simply keep that in mind as she played this phony courtship.

But as she locked the door behind her and headed for her car, she couldn’t shake the feeling that it might be easier said than done.

“TELL ME AGAIN where you met this woman?” Jillian asked as Clint dropped four bags of groceries on the stone counter in his kitchen.

“Capras. It’s a deli down on 4th.” He stepped over to his wine rack and pulled off two bottles of cabernet.

“Hmm, you don’t waste time, I’ll give you that. It was barely a week ago that treacherous blonde stormed out of here and you’ve already found someone new.”

He would have moved a lot sooner if work hadn’t kept him so busy this week. But now that he considered it, it probably ended up for the better. It would have looked strange suddenly bringing Margot around if he’d just had another date two nights before.

He winked. “Have you ever known me to beat around the bush?”

She gave him a wry smile. “I suppose not.”

She began helping him unload groceries, surveying every item in the bags as though she could size up his intentions based on his shopping list. Eyeing a small can of imported caviar that cost nearly as much as the blue sapphires on her ears, she stated, “My, you’re putting on quite a spread tonight. Are you sure you want me to stay and join you?”

The comment was made under the guise of a considerate gesture, but Clint knew damn well his mother would hold it against him if he asked her to take a hike for the night. It was a little game they’d been playing for years. She made polite offerings and he had to figure out which ones were sincere. Like the time he’d inadvertently made plans on a Sunday that ended up being Mother’s Day. His mother insisted he keep his reservations and swore that it would be perfectly fine to celebrate Mother’s Day two days early. So he’d believed her and went on his trip, only to spend the next three years hearing about that one disappointing Mother’s Day where she didn’t have both sons with her.

That was when Clint discovered that what his mother said and what she expected were two different things.

“Absolutely not. This is your home, and you are joining Margot and me for dinner.”

She tried to keep a poker face, but he didn’t miss the twinkle of pleasure in her eye.

“Really, it’s your first date and you obviously want to impress her.” She held up a bottle of finely aged balsamic vinegar. “I’d be a third wheel.”

“You’ll be pleasant company.” Then he shoved a bunch of garlic chives in her hand and asked her to chop them.

Round one; advantage Clint.

For the next hour the two worked together in the kitchen, preparing one of the many meals he’d learned to cook from his father. Cooking had been one of Jerald Hilton’s hobbies that had grown out of necessity when he was a young college student at UCLA. Unlike Jillian, who was born into wealth and had staff to take care of the family’s basic necessities, Jerald had worked his way to the top. Of course, the rich relations he’d married into hadn’t hurt his career, but at his core, Jerry Hilton was part of the working class who took pride in the things he could create with his own hands, a superbly crafted meal being one of them.

“This is nice, cooking with you,” Jillian said as she whisked together a vinaigrette for the salads that sat chilling in the fridge. “It reminds me of the early days with your father.” Then she looked around his high-tech kitchen. “Although the accommodations are quite a bit better than the tiny apartment we had when we were first married.”

The tiny apartment she referred to was the two-thousand-square-foot penthouse three blocks off Wilshire Boulevard her parents had bought the young couple as a wedding present.

“You know, your father cooked a meal like this for me on our first date,” she added. “It’s how I knew he was serious about me.”

She threw him a glance that asked if the same significance applied to Margot.

“I like Margot,” he said. “As far as being serious about her, it’s a bit premature to say at this point.”

The look on her face said she knew he was lying, and that was okay. As long as she didn’t know why Margot was special, she could think what she wanted. In fact, it was probably best his mother presumed he had serious intentions. She might open up more freely if she thought she was conversing with a future daughter-in-law instead of another one of Clint’s casual flings.

And in reality, if it weren’t for what he’d heard from Carmen, that might have been true.

Clint had already been impressed with Margot after their meeting, and then the contract she’d drawn up etched another checkmark in her favor. She hadn’t missed a beat in the five-page document. Every point had been covered in a manner that was clear and firm, yet fair to both parties. And the fact that she’d whipped it up overnight underscored the fact that his intuitions had been on the mark.

Margot Roth was as sharp as she was sexy, a fact that both intrigued and dismayed him.

Because after returning from her office, he’d made a beeline to Carmen to find out everything he could about the beautiful matchmaker with the big brown eyes. And what he’d learned was that if he wanted more than her business, he’d come around a month late. Apparently, Margot had a boyfriend, and though the relationship was new, Carmen seemed to think it was already serious.

Clint couldn’t deny that the news irked him, not so much because she was taken, but because he’d only missed her single status by a few short weeks.

He hated being denied something he wanted, but even more than that, he couldn’t shake the inexplicable feeling that she should be his. He didn’t know where it came from. Hadn’t felt that way about a woman before. It was just this thing that had come over him and kept sticking like glue. An overwhelming feeling of possession.

It was like walking into a gallery and seeing a painting he knew he had to have. If pressed to articulate why, he’d have a hard time because it wasn’t simply the colors, or the style, or the frame or the subject matter. It was the way they all came together in a package that hit that special sequence of buttons.

Except this time, the artwork had a big Sold sign on it.

“Have I seen her in any films?” his mother asked.

“Margot isn’t an actress.”

“Oh, so she’s a model?”

He frowned. “I date women besides models and actresses, Mother.”

“Then what does she do?”

“I don’t know. Some kind of counselor.” He followed her onto the terrace, where she proceeded to set the table while he put out the steaks and readied the grill. “We only spoke briefly while we were ordering lunch. I intend to find out the details tonight.”

“Well, I’ll hand it to you. You don’t have trouble finding women, that’s for sure.”