Page 8 of Sex Coach

She looked bored .

But he had a smile on his face that made him look as open and endearing as he'd been when he'd accepted one award after another. Something that might have been excitement crashed inside me .

"Son of a bitch," I whispered, wishing I'd brought one of the photographers with me. "That's...oh, man. Do you see who that is ?"

"Yes." He sounded bored .

I started to shoot him a quick glance, but froze half way in place and he caught me with a hand between my shoulder blades. "Remember the rules, sugar ."

Instead of looking at him straight on, I focused on the ground in front of me – and the cowboy boots he was wearing. Black, tooled leather, a pair of faded jeans, what looked like an incredible pair of thighs, muscled and lean and long ...

My heart was racing when I finally swung my head back around to look at the heartthrob of the month. "You think they are really a thing, the way the tabloids say they are ?"

"No," he said softly .

"Why not?" Watching as the movie star leaned in to kiss his date in a way that was decidedly intimate, I studied them with more clinical interest than I liked .

"Because she's bisexual and expects all her partners to share...male, female, doesn't matter. He doesn't play that game. He couldn't care less about her sexual preferences, but when he's all in, he expects the same from his partner. This is convenience, nothing more ."

My jaw fell open. "What...how do you know that?" I demanded .

"Tricks of the trade. It would ruin her if anybody knew, considering how she sells herself." There was something cool and measuring in his words .

A split second later, I understood .

He was trying to determine if he could trust me or not. Waiting to see if I'd push for more details, or maybe even trying to decide if I'd go public with the information .

Fat chance .

She wasn't my story .

He was .

I said nothing though. Keeping my attention on the couple who had just walked inside, I said softly, "That has to be lonely, picking your dating choices based on who will notice you ."

A bright light flashed, and I flinched, lifting my hand to block it instinctively, not quite reacting in time .

Brilliant lights flashed in front of me, alternating with little black dots, and I blinked, trying to clear my eyes. "Whoa," I muttered, trying to clear my head. "Paparazzi. Stage left ."

The noise level multiplied by the second, and the flashes became so common, they developed a strobe-like effect .

"There goes the neighborhood," I muttered .

I turned back, and my mouth dropped open. He'd left .

Panic welled inside me, but I battled it down. I was panicking – I had to be. He hadn't given me anything . So...he wasn't gone. He'd gone to the restroom or something. Surely, he'd said something, and I just hadn't noticed over the chaos .

He'd be back in a few minutes .

But then I noticed the slip on the bar .

The tab .

Swallowing, I picked it up, ignoring the bills that fluttered off the side. He was a generous tipper, that was pretty clear. He'd paid for my wine and left a tip that cost as much as the single glass – and he'd scrawled a note at the bottom for me .

I'll be in touch .

"Yeah," I muttered, growing more disgusted by the minute. "Sure you will ."

---