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He froze, then drew in a breath and pulled back to send me a ragged look, begging me not to go there. “I’ll always be a gigolo, Reese.”

My chest collapsed in on my lungs. “No.” I shook my head. “No, I don’t believe that. You can stop. You can—”

“Don’t you get it yet?” He stepped away some more until we no longer touched. “It doesn’t matter if I stop or not. This stigma, this curse, will never go away. Eighty years from now, people will read my obituary and say, ‘Mason Lowe? Wasn’t he that gigolo?’ God!” He squeezed his eyes closed and whipped his hand through his hair, grabbing fistfuls. “That even rhymes. They’ll probably make a damn limerick out of me and I’ll become an immortal prostitute.”

He began to turn away but I caught his arm. “Mason, I don’t care about your reputation. I don’t like your past, but I don’t care about that either. All I want to know about is right now. So right now…are you still having sex with other women?”

He dropped his hand from his head and studied me. I had the strangest notion he was debating with himself over whether he should lie or not. Then he winced and glanced away. “Well, I think you do care about my reputation. Ethan Riker is pristine white and you agreed to go on a date with him, didn’t you?”

That wasn’t fair. I clenched my teeth. “Mason.”

When I reached for his arm, he lifted it to ward me back. “Don’t. It's fine, okay. I'm not the type to bring home to your parents. I get it.”

"No, you don't get it!" Growling out my frustrations, I flashed my teeth at him. "Just shut up for a second.

"

Blowing out a harassed breath, I massaged my aching temples. We were arguing two totally different points, and it was confusing me. I wanted to tell him I'd be proud to show him off to my mom and dad, but I had to know if he was honestly free from a certain lifestyle first.

After arching my eyebrows at him in warning to silently tell him not to stray off the topic again, I took a breath and started fresh.

“In the library that day,” I said, trying a different tact, “you told Dr. Janison you weren’t scheduling any more clients.”

His face paled, making his eyes sparkle like polished silver. “Jesus, do you have elephant ears? You weren’t supposed to hear that.”

“Well, I did. And it made me think…I thought you were…retiring. But then…then you came to my apartment and started in about almost getting caught by a husband, and I wasn’t sure anymore.”

Mason closed his eyes and bowed his head. “I lied about the husband. I haven’t…I haven’t taken a client since…”

“Since when?”

He shook his head. “It doesn’t matter.”

“Yes! It does.” When he sent me a sharp glance, I snarled at the obstinate ass. “So why did you lie about the husband thing then? What really happened there?”

He winced. “Nothing. I turned down a persistent woman wanting services, and she got nasty, that’s all. She called me...” He wrinkled his face into a grimace. “She called me some names. Nothing I hadn’t heard before, but it left me stewing afterward, and I wanted to…I had to…I just needed to see you. I needed to be around someone who didn’t think of me that way.”

When he glanced at me, tears filled my eyes. “Oh, Mason,” I whispered. “Why didn’t you just tell me the truth?”

He took another step back, putting more space between us. “Because if I’d told you the truth and you knew I’d stopping whoring myself out for money, I was scared you’d let me do things to you that I was dying to do.”

I pressed my hand to my aching temples. “Okay, let me get this straight. You stopped your…practice because you wanted me, and then you turned around and lied about it, making me think you were still doing it in order to keep me away.”

He gulped. “Maybe.”

Damn it! Would he just give me a straight answer?

I sent him an irritated glower. “That makes no sense. If you stopped so you could have me, then why did you lie to keep me away?”

“I didn’t stop so I could have you. I know I can never have you.”

I frowned. “What? Why can’t you ever have me?”

“Because,” he sputtered, sending me an incredulous look as if he thought I shouldn’t even have to ask such a ridiculous question. “We just went over this. I could never deserve you. You’re too good for me. You’re out of my reach. You’re…you’re Reese Randall.”

“You’re wrong. I’m not.” I wasn’t really Reese Randall, and I certainly wasn’t out of his reach. “All you have to do is stretch out your hand, Mason.” Pressing my palm against my chest, I whispered, “I’m right here.”

He shook his head. “I can’t. I’m tainted.”

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