“It most certainly is,” Javier said, raising one eyebrow warily. “I should have known it would be like this, but I guess I’m just a dreamer.”
“So it’s been your dream to run your own modeling agency?” Desmond asked, more interested than maybe he should have been. There was something about Javier Rivera that made himfeel like he could talk to the man for ages, even though they’d only just met. Maybe it wasbecausethey’d just met. Javier didn’t seem to have a clue that he was one of the most powerful financial executives in London.
“It was my dream to be a model,” Javier said in a careful tone, as if correcting him. “I achieved that. I did pretty well for myself, too. And then I got old.”
Desmond laughed wryly. “You’re far from old. How old are you?” It felt like an impertinent question, but Des was suddenly dying to know.
“Thirty-one,” Javier said.
“I’m thirty-four,” Desmond said with a shrug. “So it could be worse.”
Javier smiled, took another sip of his coffee. “Yes, but I suspect that things are only getting started for men our age in the financial world, whereas, in the modeling world, I’m considered a has-beenabuelo.”
“That hardly seems fair,” Desmond said, half wishing he’d made a coffee for himself. He wished the two of them were having their conversation at a discreet table in a cozy café somewhere.
Javier shrugged. “That’s the fashion world.”
“So now that you’re too old to do the work yourself, you run an agency to help others enter that world?” Des asked.
Javier smirked. “I’mtryingto run an agency to help others along. Specifically, I’ve set out to build an agency that operates on a zero-tolerance policy for exploitation of talent.”
“Is there a lot of that in the fashion business?”
Javier laughed humorlessly. “You have no idea. Micro-abuse of all kinds is rampant in the fashion world. I’m passionate about creating a safe environment for talent that will help them to thrive and navigate the business with a solid foundation of help and support.”
“That’s incredibly noble,” Desmond said, his insides fluttering even more as he watched the enigmatic man across from him.
Javier sighed. “Unfortunately, it looks like what I’mactuallydoing is taking ridiculous singing telegram gigs myself.”
Desmond grinned sympathetically, which he never did. Javier smiled warmly back at him. Des resisted the urge to extend his leg a little to see if their feet might touch. Javier glanced to the floor like he knew what Des was thinking.
Out of nowhere, it felt like the two of them were sharing something. Attraction, definitely, but that was pedestrian. Attractive men were everywhere.
Des liked Javier, which was not something he could say about a lot of people. Well, he liked people, he just wasn’t certain he could trust them. For some odd reason, probably because Javier truly didn’t know who he was or what he’d done, he felt the pull to trust him.
Which caused an idea to spark in his head like a firework.
“You wouldn’t by any chance be interested in another unconventional job of sorts, would you?” he asked, fighting not to seem as overeager as Alan in the face of anything resembling romance.
Javier’s openness shifted quickly to caution. “Of sorts?”
Part of Des screamed at him to shut up and not to be rash or stupid.
He didn’t listen to that part.
“I have an important concert I’m supposed to attend on Friday evening,” he said, shifting to lean slightly toward Javier. “I was wondering if you’d be interested in escorting me.”
Javier’s eyebrows flew up. “Oh, honey,” he said. “I don’t run anescort service.”
Embarrassed heat splashed across Desmond’s face. “No, no, no, I don’t mean that at all,” he fell all over himself to say. “I definitely don’t mean that. God, no. I would never suggestthat.”
Javier’s briefly stoney face softened into a sympathetic smile. “I never said you did.” He was being gracious.
“I just meant that I don’t have a date for the concert,” Desmond went on. “It’s part of Pickering Jones’ fundraising efforts. But because it’s not an event being exclusively hosted by Pickering Jones, I have the terrible feeling that Matthew is going to be there.”
Javier’s expression changed again. Now he looked more like an avenging angel than a glittery cupid. “That asshole? Honey, you can’t go into that concert hall alone.”
“Yes, well, that’s what I’ve been telling myself for the last week,” Desmond said. Every reserved instinct he had shouted at him to stop this madness, but he couldn’t. Javier was too kind, too funny, and too hot for him slam on the brakes now. “Only, I don’t have anyone on file that I can just ring up and ask to go with me. At least, not anyone who isn’t friends with Matthew, too. And I’m not very good at…making friends.”
