Porter (Dick Dynasty #1) (9 page)

Those few simple changes made me less predatory and a little more innocent looking than I’d ever been in my life.

A clean shave would’ve been the perfect touch, but there was only so much I could do in the front seat of my SUV with only five minutes before we were supposed to meet.

After a final once-over, I locked up and headed for the front door.

“Can I help you?”

“I have a reservation for seven-thirty under Hale.”

The gentleman glanced down at the podium he stood behind before nodding his head curtly, “Of course, Mr. Hale. Right this way.”

I followed him to an intimate booth in the back corner of the main dining room.

“Shall I bring your guest straight back?”

“That’d be great. Her name is Holly Nash. She’ll probably ask for me by name.”

“Of course, sir. Your waiter will be right with you.”

“Thanks, Jeeves.”

I could see the change in his eyes the moment I said it and had to exercise every ounce of my self-control to not laugh in his face at my own joke.

The poor guy probably heard it all day long every day.

I made a mental note to tip well in hopes that he’d get a cut of it at the end of the night.

“Good evening, sir,” a twenty-something gentleman in a crisp white button up and cheap black slacks gave me an award-winning customer service smile, “Can I start you off with something to drink while you wait for your dinner guest?”

“Water would be great for both of us and I’d also like a bottle of the best Merlot you have.”

“Of course, sir. I’ll have your water out right away and deliver the bottle when your guest arrives.”

“Thanks.”

He had recognized me. I could tell by the way he kept glancing down at my crotch. The only reason I chose fine dining over fast food was the fact that the staff were all so used to waiting on celebrities that they didn’t get all fangirl crazy on you in public.

Usually.

I spotted Jeeves heading toward my booth with Holly in tow and my palms began to sweat.

What the fuck?

I never get nervous around women.

I wiped my hands on my jeans as I rose to greet her. Instead of the more intimate kiss kiss on the cheek that women tended to try with me, she went in for the kill with a very formal, very
firm
handshake. Her grip provided a sharp contrast to the sensation of her painfully soft skin beneath my fingertips.

The sensation shot a jolt of pure desire up my arm and straight to my groin.

“Thank you for agreeing to meet with me.”

Such a lame fuck.

“It’s no trouble.”

Harsh.

She released my hand and sat down across from the table as the waiter returned with two glasses of ice water.

“Thank you,” she nodded politely to the waiter, causing her hair to swing forward from where it had been neatly tucked behind her ear. Something inside of me wanted to reach out and smooth it back into place.

I was thankful I had refrained when she returned her gaze to me. I could practically see her walls slide into place as the ice replaced the warmth that had been bestowed upon our server.

“Why am I here, Porter?”

Her question caught me off guard and I could do nothing but stare at her in response.

“We both know you didn’t agree to one of the most expensive restaurants south of San Francisco just to apologize for breaking my martini glass. I might not be as worldly as you are in some aspects, but I am far from stupid.”

I had the good sense to at least pretend I was offended.

“Holly, believe it or not, there are good people in the world who do things for others just for the sake of doing the right thing. Not all of us have to find a motive to justify spending time with another person.”

A glimmer of fire lit behind the glaciers in her pupils.

“I don’t doubt that for an instant, Porter. What I
do
doubt is the fact that you are one of those people.”

I didn’t have to act offended after that jab.

“You don’t know me at all, Holly. Who the hell are you to decide what kind of person I am?”

I could feel the steel of my own walls slide into place as I met her frigid gaze and furrowed my brow. People who
do
know me had said far worse things about me without it getting under my skin. And she wasn’t entirely wrong, either, but for some reason the idea of her thinking so little of me without reason made me want to prove her wrong.

“This was a bad idea,” she grabbed her purse off the bench at her side and stood, “I’m gonna go. Sorry for wasting your time.”

“Sit down, Holly.” The words came out as a command instead of a request, as I had meant them. She fell back into the booth and stared at me as if I had just pulled a gun on her.

“Stay,” I forcibly softened my voice, “Have dinner with me. We’re both adults here and I’d like to think we’re both capable of making it through a single meal without maiming one another.”

A cool mask of professionalism quickly replaced the look of surprise on her face. She calmly set her purse beside her and reached for her water cup, “Of course.”

There was something about the way she held eye contact as she drank from the glass that unnerved me. She didn’t even blink as her hazel eyes bore into mine; assessing, devouring, almost predatory.

Maybe I underestimated you, Holly Nash.

I returned the stare, feigning ignorance and doing my best to plaster a patient, unassuming look on my face. I wanted her to think I was just waiting for her to finish. I didn’t want her to know that I was watching her swallow down the water and imagining that it was my dick sliding down her throat.

I could feel myself stiffen with each gulp she took and nearly cheered when she finally put the half-empty glass back on the table. I probably would have if her tongue hadn’t darted out to clear her lips of any remaining fluid as she gasped for air. That quick flash of pink between her teeth sealed the deal she had no idea she had entered into with my libido.

“So you’re just a nice person, trying to do the right thing. Righting a wrong and fighting social injustice one dinner date at a time. Who knew?”

I was ready for it that time and kept my guard up. I put on my best smile and shrugged my shoulders, trying for nonchalant, “I don’t see why not.”

She practically snorted in my face as she scoffed at the idea.

“I’ll tell you why not, Porter. Guys like you,” she pointed an accusing finger across the table at me, “you don’t see others as
people
. You see them as objects. Just a tool to use as you see fit. Your entire career is a practicum in demeaning women and telling the public that it’s perfectly acceptable to objectify us.”

Okay, that one caught me off guard.

“I didn’t have you pegged as a feminist, Holly Nash. You didn’t really strike me as the women-aren’t-smart-enough-to-make-their-own-choices-and-the-only-reason-they-make-porn-is-because-men-make-them type. I will have you know that a lot of the women—not all of them, but many of them—do it because they
enjoy
it. Believe it or not, I
do
actually get to know my coworkers off set,”
Sometimes
I added to myself, “If you think we bring these girls in at gun point and force them to do things they don’t want to do, you’ve got another thing coming.”

I lifted my own glass of water and took a swig as I waited for the tempest in her eyes to erupt.

“I didn’t say you
force
them into doing anything, but let’s be honest: The porn industry wouldn’t exist if it weren’t for men who would rather objectify women than actually get to know one as a person.”

It was my turn to scoff in her face.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me!” I couldn’t believe the words that had just come out of her mouth, “You don’t think
I
get objectified? Are you high? Do you have
any
idea how many women pretend to be interested in Porter Hale only to be able to tell their friends that they fucked Ryder Ruff? You’re really so blinded by your sex’s struggle for equality that you don’t think objectification happens on both sides of the fence? I knew there were some sheltered people in this world, Holly, but
that
is flirting dangerously with outright ignorance.”

Her mask of professionalism had fallen away and there was something new, something careful and calculating, glinting deep in her eyes. I couldn’t quite put my finger on it, but it wasn’t sitting well with me.

“Let’s get out your phone, Holly. I want you to go through your contacts list and find me
one
single woman between the ages of, let’s say twenty and forty, who’s never enjoyed porn or been to a strip club or ogled some shirtless fitness model on Facebook. Just one. If you can do that, I will acquiesce and admit that I stand corrected. One woman, Holly. Prove me wrong.”

She seemed to be considering my offer as she stared at me. I could tell by the way she pressed her mouth into a fine line. She may as well have been chewing on her bottom lip. She finally tore her eyes away from mine and looked down at the table, quietly fidgeting with her fingernails.

“You’re right,” she practically whispered, “I apologize.”

When she lifted her head again, the mask was back in place. She was cool and collected once more and took a quick sip of her water without making eye contact.

When Holly
did
meet my gaze again, her eyes had softened. She no longer exuded the holier-than-thou aura that had clung to her when she’d first sat down. She
almost
seemed comfortable to be sitting across the table from a porn star.

Almost.

“Shall we peruse the menu and flag down a waiter? I think we scared the poor kid off with our chosen topic of conversation. I busted him staring at my crotch when he took drink orders. I bet we get the bottle of wine I ordered for free,” I winked at her as I picked up my menu, “Sometimes it pays to be a sex object.”

The date had taken a turn for the strange and I wasn’t sure how I felt about it.

Never in a million years had I expected to be lectured on objectification by a male porn star. Ever.

The weirdest part about the whole thing was that he was right.

And then for him to turn around and be completely okay with being objectified, by another man none-the-less, just blew every argument I had out of the water.

It’s not every day Holly Nash gets talked into a corner.

Not only had he talked me there, I was kind of okay with staying there.

Porter Hale had a way with the words, once he was done berating me, which made it comfortable for me to let him take the lead. I could tell he was playing off my reactions and watching me like a hawk for the slightest response to his words, but that made it all the more captivating to me.

I had gone in blind and expected him to be a self-centered, egotistical prick. I had been pleasantly surprised when he actually made an effort to engage me in real conversation—something beyond shoptalk and the latest who’s who.

I could feel my guard slipping more and more with each passing minute and I couldn’t find it in me to care. He truly seemed like a genuine,
normal
guy.

Who just happened to have sex with beautiful women for a living.

He pushed the last bite of roasted duck into his mouth and sat back with a contented moan, “Delicious. The natural jus was the perfect touch.”

And he’s a foodie. Who would have thought?

“The Alaskan halibut was to die for as well,” I glanced down at the half-eaten fish and wished there was more room in my stomach for it, “I should’ve skipped out on the tempura soft shell crab. I’m afraid I might rip a seam if I try to put anything else in my mouth.”

There was a quick flush of red in his cheeks as the corners of his mouth quirked upward, but he schooled his expression quickly.

“Does that mean no dessert?”

I couldn’t tell if he was joking or if he actually felt crushed by my inability to put anything else inside of me.

“By all means, help yourself! Surprisingly, I’m not in a rush to get out of here. I’ve really enjoyed your company tonight, Porter.”

Something troubled flashed across his face for the briefest of moments before he cranked up the megawatt smile and picked up the dessert menu. I wasn’t sure if I had imagined it or not, so I let it slide.

“These are all dude desserts,” he complained, “I was hoping for something a little more feminine after dinner.”

“What do you mean, ‘dude desserts’?” I reached for the menu to see what he was talking about, “What did you have in mind?” My eyes quickly scanned the menu, judging the desserts fairly generic, before I looked back at him and froze.

“I was hoping for something along the lines of tiramisu,” he reached forward and tenderly lifted my hand from the table, “it’s so hard to find good lady fingers though.” He placed a soft kiss on the very tip of my index finger, massaging the palm of my hand with his thumbs.