Page 59 of Reckless Desire

Hunter stays silent, letting me decide if I want to elaborate. I don’t. And so he bridges to a different, inconsequential topic, and after a beat or two I’m back at ease. We continue to talk, laugh and eat.

“Still a fan of Nesbo?” I tilt my head, admiring the man beside me. Hunter’s chin rests in his palm as he rubs his whiskers with his thumb. It’s probably a mindless movement, but it gives him an air of sexy intelligence.

He nods. “Is blue still your favorite color?” He lifts my hand and brushes my knuckles with his lips, sending delicious shivers down my spine and setting a fire in my core. This man is an arsonist.

“Yes, it is. Have your tastes changed?” I sound breathy, but that’s okay. Our conversation might be trivial, but there is nothing trivial about the charged energy.

“It has, in fact. I’ve become a fan of green.” He traces his index finger over my shoulder, luxuriating in the fabric of my green dress. Playing me like a violin.

I’m so taut with anticipation, I might snap. At the same time, I’m painfully aware that his experience surpasses mine. The awareness tugs at my self-confidence. Not that I’ve had any to spare to begin with, but part of me wants to bolt. Or fast forward to the morning.

“I have a slight change to our itinerary, Sydney.” My name on his lips is like a dangerous promise. The way he hisses the S with a sexual undertone makes everything inside me clench.

“Will I like the change?” I swallow hard, my heart begging to escape my ribcage

“I hope so. We have to leave the hotel for this part of our date, but we’ll be back to enjoy the suite.” Hunter’s eyes darken with the suggestion, and I wish the ventilation system in this freaking restaurant worked better. The oxygen disappeared at some point tonight and no one seems concerned. Beads of perspiration trickle down my back.

Hunter gestures to the server who promptly brings our bill.

“Let’s split it,” I suggest.

Hunter raises his eyebrows. “Do you want to spoil this evening, Sydney?” He tightens his jaw, frowning at me. “I’m paying.” The authority in his voice shuts me up.

This isn’t the first time I’ve faced Hunter’s dominant side, but the few times he’s completely controlled a situation have been in a more intimate setting. The elevator ride. His kitchen. The hallway in front of Caro’s room. I’m not sure how I feel about the check situation.

The romantic part of me is swooning. Pragmatic me is screaming. And the reason isn’t noble. It has nothing to do with equal treatment. I feel fairly uneasy about the source of Hunter’s money. But I learned my lesson and I don’t want to make assumptions.

We step outside and Hunter guides me to the left. “It’s only two blocks from here. You okay to walk?”

I nod. The situation with the bill sits on me like a prickly blanket. I wish I could discuss it with him, but who discusses money on their first official date? And I certainly am not ready to talk about the disaster of my financial situation.

“I didn’t want to accept the inheritance.” Hunter breaks the silence, and I stop because what the hell? Can he read my mind? And what inheritance?

“You don’t need to explain.” I resume walking.

“Really? Are we going to play this game? You are uncomfortable I paid for dinner. Is it a question of principle, or are you wondering where the money came from?” He keeps his hand on the small of my back and I’m grateful for the tender connection, because his honesty scares me and comforts me at the same time.

I stop again. This conversation is too heavy for the walk. “I’m having such a great time tonight. Part of me wants to push it aside, but yes, you’re right. You weren’t rich three years ago and I wonder—”

“If the money comes from my former clients?”

Before I answer, someone bumps into me, and Hunter swears under his breath. He grabs my hand and pulls me into a nearby deli. We order two sodas and grab a table in the corner.

It’s kind of comical how we moved from five-star luxury into a narrow joint with plastic chairs. Dressed up and all.

“My decision to moonlight as a male escort was motivated by my sister’s—Caro’s mom’s—medical bills. Her treatment was expensive. It was the most money I could make in a short period of time.”

Hunter sips his drink, his eyes locked on the can, though I don’t think he’s reading the label. I don’t dare to move because I feel this is not a story he tells readily. His throat bobs up and down. Before he continues, he takes my hand and caresses it between his two huge palms.

“All that money went to her care. What was left is in Caroline’s college fund. The day after you and I met, I took one of Ash’s training sessions. Priscilla Stein was in her eighties, rich and lonely. She paid Ash to help her stretch and keep active, but that afternoon when I met her, I realized it was the company she sought. She didn’t have any family left.”

Hunter’s palms are like heating pads on my hand. I remain still, letting him take his time with the story.

“I could have just shrugged and moved on, but I went back and read books for her, or just listened to her talking about her past. Soon, I accompanied her to the theater and later started having brunch with her on Sundays whenever I could. I was her escort, but I never charged her. I just… I don’t know. I was lonely as well. Between Caro, Julia and my clients—fitness and escorting—I was always among people, but…”

He probably can’t imagine how much I relate. I was teaching, hanging out with my sisters, recently even dating Dan, but the loneliness rarely stems from being alone. They are two different things.

I squeeze his hand and Hunter finally looks up. I hope he sees the understanding in me.

---