A knock at the door startled me out of my thoughts. I hurried to open it, my mouth already opening to offer a greeting. The words died in my mouth at the sight of Cade in a tux. He'd looked good in the suit he'd worn on our 'date,' and I was pretty sure he could pull off any outfit he wanted, but there was something about how a man wore a well-tailored tux. And Cade most certainly wore it well.
“Definitely not a schoolteacher dress.”
I raised my eyes to see Cade smiling at me. A flush of heat spread across my skin, and it wasn't from embarrassment.
He held out his hand. “Shall we?”
I slid my hand into his and told myself that the tingle of pleasure going through me was acceptable. After all, Cade had said himself that physical attraction and enjoyment were part of his work.
“Why'd you pick me up instead of having me meet you at the hotel?” I asked, wording the question in such a way that it didn't sound like I was fishing for information on where we were going.
He wasn't fooled. “Because we're not going to a hotel.” He glanced at me. “It's a surprise.”
Knowing he was trying to surprise me caught me off guard. That sounded more like something a boyfriend would do. I kept my thoughts to myself though. I didn't want him to think I was thinking of him like a boyfriend. I wasn't. At all. It was just an observation and made me even more curious.
A town car sat at the curb in front of my building, looking distinctly out of place in this neighborhood. Cade opened the door for me and I slid in, conscious of the way the slit exposed quite a bit of leg before I gathered the fabric and pulled it back into place.
“You have lovely legs,” Cade said. He closed the door before I could respond and walked around to the other side.
“Thank you,” I mumbled as he sat next to me.
“You don't take compliments well, do you?” He brushed a curl off of my cheek as the car started forward.
I shook my head.
“Then that's one of the issues we'll have to work on. Modesty and gratitude are appreciated, but confidence when accepting a compliment is also attractive.” He settled back in the seat, his body not touching mine, but close enough I could almost feel it. “Pay me a compliment.”
“What?” I was startled by the request.
“Pay me a compliment.” He winked. “Tell me I'm pretty.”
“You're pretty.” I blurted out the words, then flushed. “I mean – I – oh shit.”
He laughed, a genuine laugh that soothed my embarrassment. There was nothing false about his amusement. “I suppose I asked for that.” He reached over and squeezed my hand. “I just wanted to demonstrate a way to accept a compliment without getting flustered.”
“Easy for you,” I muttered, looking down. “Nothing throws you off.”
“You do,” he admitted.
My head jerked up.
“You're not like the other women I see,” he said. “It's refreshing.” His eyes twinkled. “And entertaining.”
“Glad to know I amuse you,” I said dryly.
“I just meant that it's rare someone can surprise me, and yet you manage to do it.” He paused for a moment and I watched the professional mask slide back into place. “We're almost there. We'll work on compliments more later.”
“Almost where?” I asked.
“Pritchard's Art Galleria.”
Okay, definitely not what I'd expected. Maybe it was some sort of erotic art. I could see Cade thinking it was 'entertaining' to take me into a place full of nude or sexual photography or artwork. Trying to shock me seemed like something he'd want to do. I told myself that no matter what I saw in there, I wouldn't get embarrassed.
“The owner's a friend of mine,” Cade said. “And tonight's the opening for a promising new artist Alejandro is particularly fond of.”
I nodded. When the car stopped, Cade got out first and stretched out his hand to help me from the car. As I straightened, he wrapped my arm around his. I tried not to focus on his warmth but rather on the gallery in front of me. It was all glass and metal, but done in unique designs that weren't like any sort of standard architecture. I liked it.
Other well-dressed people were heading for the entrance all around us and I couldn't help but wonder how many of these women had purchased Cade's services before. How many knew what he was, and by connection, why he was here with me? My stomach lurched as I thought of how they'd look at me, thinking the only way I could get a man was to pay for it.
“What's wrong?” Cade whispered. “You were fine a minute ago, but now you're stiff and tense.”
Damn him and his annoying habit of being observant. I decided honesty was better than trying to deny that I was bothered. “Have any of these women hired you?”
If he was surprised by how blunt I was, he didn't show it, and he didn't seem offended that I'd asked. Instead, he scanned the crowd before answering. “I see two previous clients.” He glanced down at me. I watched as first understanding, then something darker, moved across his features. Neither one stayed long. “You're ashamed to be here with me.” It was a statement. Flat and without any indication as to the emotions behind it.
I lifted my chin. “This isn't exactly the kind of thing I want advertised.” I felt his fingers tighten on my arm, just a fraction but enough to convey that what I'd said upset him. “Cade, it's not...”
“One of those women is here with her husband, who I doubt knows she hired me. The other is here with someone else like me.” There was an edge to the last two words. “Neither one will say a word, and they can't very well look down on you because they were in your same position.” His mouth curved into a humorless smile. “Or a variety of other positions.”
An awkward silence fell between us as he led me into the gallery. We passed a waiter with a tray of champagne glasses and each took one. I drank half of mine at once and a glance at Cade told me he'd drained his and taken another. All of the positive anticipation I'd felt going into this evening had faded. I knew what I'd said had been horrible, no matter how I felt. And that itself was wrong too. How could I look down on Cade for what he did for a living? Was I really so awful of a person that I'd judge someone like him when I was the one paying for his services?
We stopped at the far end of the gallery. Most everyone else was crowded up front and the way the space was set up, we were hidden between a large sculpture and a wall that held a pair of paintings on either side. I turned to face Cade, but he kept his eyes on the painting behind me. I reached up and put my hands on his face, turning his head until he was looking down at me. I surprised myself with my boldness, but it was something that had to be done. He'd never done anything to hurt me and I'd treated him like shit. He didn't deserve it. He was a good man, no matter what he did to make money.
“I'm sorry,” I said. “It's how I was raised, and that's not an excuse. It's just sometimes hard to shake off your childhood, you know?”
He nodded. “I know.” His arms slid around my waist and my hands shifted to behind his neck. “And I'm used to the comments.”
“That doesn't mean what I said was right.” I pulled myself closer to him, feeling the heat from his body against mine. “I really am sorry.”
“Thank you for apologizing. No one's ever apologized before.” He bent his head and pressed his lips against mine.
It was a simple kiss, a chaste one, but I felt the warmth from it straight down to my toes. Then he released me and took a step back. His hand reached for mine and he laced our fingers together. He turned his attention back to the painting and gestured at it, drawing my attention to it as well.