Page 20 of The Blame Game

He nodded, his mouth too full of food to speak. Ironic food choices or not, it was delicious.

“I don’t mean to pry but I’d feel more comfortable managing this situation with all of the information. Are you dating?”

Shea shook his head. “No.”

“Are you having sex?”

Shea froze and Dom swallowed hard before he gave her a terse nod.

“Okay, that’s all I need to know.” Kate leaned forward. “Wait, no, there’s one more thing.”

Dom set his food down, looking slightly ill, and Shea stifled the urge to press their thighs together and offer him some comfort.

Especially because he doubted Dom would find that comforting.

“What’s that?” Shea asked.

“Who does the apartment you were in last night belong to?”

“Oh.” Shea pulled in a deep breath and gave her the most reassuring smile he could manage. “Select Image Consulting. They lease several places around the city. They offer image management, fashion styling, and etiquette courses. Because of the social status of some of the clients, meetings are often one-on-one. Some people choose to have the appointments in their homes but others prefer to meet in one of the condos we lease. The more personal and private environment allows people to relax and feel more comfortable.”

The company truly did offer those services and, nationwide, they had hundreds of high-paying male and female clients who paid for image consultation.

And some who discreetly paid for more.

“Interesting.” Kate raised her coffee to her lips. “The name does sound vaguely familiar now that you mention it. And I can think of a few players who could stand to hire you, Sawyer.”

Shea laughed. “I’d be happy to pass along my business card.”

“Please do.”

He patted his pocket, then froze when he realized that in his hurry to get Dom’s wallet and phone out of the apartment, he’d forgotten his own. Fuck!

“Uhh, maybe some other time,” he said. “It’s possible my wallet went up in smoke.”

“Oh dear.” She gave him a sympathetic smile. “Well, let’s hope it survived.”

“Let’s hope,” he said drily. “But yeah, I’ll make sure Dom passes one of my cards to you some time.”

Because if nothing else, he needed to keep up appearances that everything was on the up and up.

“Perfect. How did you learn about this company, Dom?”

“Oh, a former player,” he said, reaching for his coffee again. “He retired shortly after I came to Toronto. Jimmy Brady. You remember him?”

“Yes.”

Shea did too, though if he remembered right, he’d been a client of Audra’s.

Kate leaned forward. “Okay, now that’s all cleared up, let’s get down to business. The way I look at it, we have four options for how we want to handle this situation. Number one, we ignore it and hope it fades away. In order for that to happen, you will need to stop working together or seeing one another. Totally. Because there will be increased scrutiny on you both and no matter how discreet you think you’re being, someone will spot you eventually.”

Dom froze, spoon halfway between his mouth and his yogurt bowl. “What’s the next option?”

“Number two, we release a statement about Sawyer being your stylist but stress that you are not romantically involved. You’re friendly, so you hung out after your appointment and watched the hockey game, Dom crashed on the couch and, Sawyer, you didn’t have the heart to wake him. Following the fire, Dom was concerned about Sawyer’s health, nothing more.”

“We actually did watch the hockey game,” Shea said truthfully. “It went into OT.”

Kate laughed. “If we go that route, I’d suggest making sure the two of you are spotted in public on several ‘bro dates’”—she used finger quotes and rolled her eyes—“to solidify that story.”

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