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“Why?” Samantha asks.
“Because I can’t just see him like a client anymore. You know? And even though I’m trying my best to be professional, I can’t help but think aboutthat nightwhen we’re in a cottage, playing house together.”
“So, sleep with him again,” Sam suggests.
I burst out laughing. “I can’t just do that! I’m trying to prove a point. I deserve better, you know?”
“Better than Blake Ford, the wealthiest man in America?”
I can just picture the disbelief on Sam’s face.
“That’s not what I mean,” I giggle. “I know he’s the wealthiest man, but I’m not here for his money.”
“Are you there for his body? Because the last time I saw him in the news, honey, he’shot. You’ll still be doing the best you can.”
I shake my head and blush bright red. “You can’t say shit like that.”
“Did you call me for a PG conversation?” Samantha asks. “Because I think Alex is around, I can call him if you want.”
“Stop it,” I laugh. “That's not what I mean!”
Samantha laughs too. “I know, I know. But I don’t know how you have all that self-control. I would have been in his bed by now.”
I squeeze my eyes shut. That’s exactly what I want, I won’t lie. But it’s not what I’m supposed to do.
And it’s not about sex with Blake—although he’sfuckinggood in bed. It’s about so much more than that. When I’m with him, there’s something about him that’s just different than when he’s with everyone else. Under the surface is a whole different Blake that I want to discover.
Who is he really?
And what the hell is he running so hard away from? He thinks he has it all under control, he has this bulletproof façade, but I’ve caught him deep in thought more than once when I can tell there’s more to him than meets the eye.
Why is he so set on hiding it from everyone?
I know he hasn’t dated before, not really. I’ve researched this man, I know everything the tabloids know about him. And as far as I can tell, aside from a few flings over the years, he’s never been serious, and there’s nothing about him ever being married.
When I mention as much to Sam, she thinks about it.
“Maybe there’s something wrong with him,” she muses.
“Like what?”
“I don’t know… maybe he’s gay.”
I burst out laughing. “He’snotgay.” I shiver when I think about our night together. “He’s definitely not gay.”
“Well, maybe he’s… I don’t know. He seems pretty fucking perfect if you ask me.”
I sigh. “Yeah, he does.”
“Are you going to date him?” Sam asks.
“No!” I cry out. “He’s a client, remember? And he’s so much older than I am.”
“Fifteen years or something, right?”
“Yeah. I mean, we’re from completely different walks of life. And we’re in different stages in our careers… hell, when he was a teenager, already flirting with girls, I was just a baby.”
Samantha groans. “Don’t talk about it like that; that’s disgusting.”
