Page 12 of Playboy For Hire

“Any requests for a particular consultant?” she asked. “Or should I just say whoever’s available?”

“Better go with that,” Thea said. “He can’t be too picky when it’s this short notice.”

It was like I wasn’t even in the room. Thea took the tablet from Violet to enter her credit card number and my contact information, then handed it back. Violet extended the tablet in my direction for approval, but didn’t give me time for more than a cursory glance before saying, “Good. And…sent!”

She looked up and smiled triumphantly. Thea’s eyes danced as she smiled too. What had they just done? What hadIjust done?

A moment later, my phone buzzed. I pulled it out to see I’d gotten a text.

UNKNOWN NUMBER: Thank you for your interest in our services. Your request has been received. You will be contacted once your order is confirmed.

I could have been ordering Chinese food, for all the information the text gave. But they had said they were discreet.

“Who did they match you with?” Violet asked, her gaze downright feral. “Was it Amir? I thought he was the best looking of them all.”

“You couldn’t even see what any of them looked like,” Auntie Thea protested.

“I didn’t need to,” Violet said with a shrug. “I can just tell.”

“No one yet,” I said slowly. “But I guess I’ll find out soon?”

“Well, good. That’s settled, at least.” Thea nodded as though justice had been done. “Onto more important matters, now. You need to help me decide what to wear to this party. I’ve beengoing through my closet and have pulled out some of my old favorites.”

“Why not just buy something new?” Violet said. “No one wants to see those moth-eaten old rags of yours.”

“They arenotmoth-eaten. I keep the oldest ones in a cedar chest,” Thea snapped.

“Wait, wait, wait,” I said. “I’m not ready to move on to talking about dresses just yet. I still want to know how your granddaughter found out about this company,” I told Violet. Then I looked at Thea. “And I still have some follow-up questions about that nude beach in Marseilles.”

Auntie Thea grinned wickedly. “I don’t dare tell you. You might keel over with shock, and that would really put a damper on the party this Friday. You’ll just have to use your imagination…”

3

RYDER

Bar Onze, on Eleventh Street in Logan Circle, was cute. A maroon awning, with scalloped edges worked in gold, spread out over spindly cafe tables and chairs on the sidewalk. Big glass windows on either side of the door were filled with gold filigree lettering in a Parisian-looking script announcing baked goods, coffee, and cocktails. Afternoon sunlight poured into the interior, washing it in an amber warmth.

The walls were wood worked in wainscotted panels up to waist-height, with gleaming white subway tiles above. A row of taps sat next to a polished espresso machine on the reclaimed wood bar. A shelf of wine bottles and liquor lined the wall behind the bar, and a glass case displayed sandwiches and little tarts. The miniature apple galette looked delicious, but I was watching my macros, so I opted for black coffee instead.

I brought the little porcelain cup and saucer over to a table in the corner, underneath a giant print of Duke Ellington, and sank into a delicate-looking Thonet chair. Then I pulled out my phone.

Quinn had picked Bar Onze. That was protocol. The client decided the location. That way they felt secure, and could control how likely they were to run into someone they knew. I could see why she’d chosen this place. It wasn’t crowded, but it wasn’t deserted at three p.m. either. No one would be close enough to hear our conversation, but the woman behind the bar and the smattering of other patrons kept it feeling safe.

I still didn’t know much about Quinn. Once I’d told Mason I could take the job, he’d passed on her phone number and the basics of her request: Grandparents’ fiftieth wedding anniversary this Friday, needed someone to pose as a boyfriend, would take whoever was available.

I tried not to be disappointed by that. Of course, I liked it when clients requested me specifically. I prided myself on looking good. It was my main asset in life, to be honest. But still, just because I’d been randomly assigned didn’t mean Quinn wouldn’t find me attractive once we met.

Not that I wanted hertoointerested. I didn’t need another Ashley situation.

I pulled out my phone and shot Quinn a quick text.

RYDER: Got here a little early. I’m the one in the navy suit in the corner.

I’d dressed with care for this meeting, like I did for everything. I wanted to look nice and professional. Didn’t want her thinking I was an amateur. Besides, I was the youngest person on Heartbreakers Anonymous’s payroll, and it never hurt to appear a little older when you first met someone.

I wondered what this Friday would involve. A fancy party with senators? An intimate event of just family members? How manyother significant others would be there, and how detailed would our story have to be?

I actually enjoyed coming up with backstories and then selling them when I went out in public with a client. I liked sinking into characters. I also liked making people feel good, showing off the women who’d hired me to their best advantage. There were even a few clients who’d turned into friends over time.

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