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He hesitated, runninghis tongue along the line between his lips.

“Were you goingto?” she prompted, making sure she didn’t sound annoyed or pushy.

“I don’t know.”

“I’m sorryabout the other day,” Lori said, trying once again to make herself clear. “Idid it all wrong. I’m sorry if I hurt you. Or...or if I treated youthoughtlessly.”

Ander let out asmall breath. “It’s all right. I understand why you made the decision. I just thinkthere were other options than the one you chose.”

“There were,” Loriadmitted, her belly twisting with nerves. She couldn’t—she just couldn’t—let Anderoffer her another option. If it was something even close to what shedesperately wanted, she wouldn’t be able to resist taking it.

And their messyrelationship would only get messier.

“But this isthe only option that can work. Don’t you see?” Her voice cracked in herearnestness. “I’ve been paying you to fuck me for months. And I’m not the onlywoman who does. You’re a male escort. I can’t stand the thought of you with yourother clients. I hate them. Hate them. I’m not going to be able to get over it.And, even if you were to quit later on, we still have this unnatural dynamicbetween us. Taking away the money isn’t going to magically fix things. I don’tknow what you...what you want from me, but all we can be now is friends.”

Ander stared ather for a long time. But she could tell he was actually thinking about what shesaid. Finally, he nodded his head.

Lori let out agust of air. For the first time, she felt a flare of hope. “Please, Ander,don’t shut down on me. I think...I think we could really help each other. Istill want you in my life. I need you in my life.”

He finished offthe last of his scotch and stared at the table for an agonizingly long time.Until at last he murmured, “I need you too.”

** *

“Okay!” Lori called out from theAnder’s kitchen. Very carefully, she carried a small chocolate cake withcaramel icing and ten lit candles over toward the living area. Since all theseparated his kitchen from his living room was a granite-topped counter, shemade it without incident. “It’s ready.”

Ander had beenreading on his sofa while Lori prepared his cake. As she approached, she sawhim close the book and discreetly tuck it into his leather case, which was seton the floor near the couch.

He’d been doingthat a lot lately—removing whatever book he happened to be reading from hersight. She didn’t comment on it, though. Just grinned as she set down the cake.

“Happy birthdayto you,” she began to sing, with exaggerated jollity and mostly on key.

Ander made aface as she began but by the time she finished the song and clapped her hands,he was chuckling. Then she watched him expectantly as he leaned over to blowout the candles.

“Did you make awish first?” she demanded.

“Of course.” Ander’smouth twitched as he examined the cake whose preparation had taken hours of hermorning. “Did you make this cake yourself?”

“Yes. And don’tyou dare laugh at it. Baking is not one of my talents. But I did the best Icould.”

“It looksgreat. You shouldn’t have gone to all the trouble.”

She slanted himan indignant glare. “Why the hell shouldn’t I have gone through the trouble?”

Ander’s lipstwitched again.

Feeling a rushof warmth at the familiar sight of his handsome, amused face, Lori explained, “Icouldn’t fit all thirty-four candles on your little cake.”

He gave her acool glare from under his eyelashes that made Lori giggle. Then he admitted, “Yesterdaywas my birthday, you know. Not today.”

She handed himthe knife so he could cut them both a slice and place them on the plates she’dlaid out on the coffee table earlier. “I know. But you were the idiot whoscheduled an engagement on your birthday. So I had to make do and move thecelebration to tonight.”

Lori wouldnever admit it, but she was a little hurt that Ander had done such a thing.

They nevertalked about his work. She knew he gone in the evenings sometimes. He took hiscase, and he never said a word about what he did. He must have cut back on hisclients significantly, as he’d told her he was doing. He wasn’t gone more thantwo or three nights a week now.

It had been twomonths since she’d been Ander’s client. After running into each other in thehotel bar, they’d slowly fallen into a friendship. At first, it had been alittle awkward. Lori was nervous around Ander, and Ander was rather standoffish.But they’d grown gradually more comfortable with each other, and now Lori sawhim or talked to him almost every day.

But she hatedthat he hadn’t retired from the male escort business. She still hated thethought of every one of his clients and everything he did with them. Hated thathe wouldn’t stop objectifying and devaluing himself—which might not be part ofeveryone’s experience as an escort but were certainly part of his. She wouldn’tjudge him, knew the reasons that led to prostitution were too complex for herto truly understand.

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