The Rebound Guy (8 page)

“Really? What is it?”

“I’m one of Brooklyn’s premier dog walkers.”

A shocked laugh escaped her mouth.

“You find me amusing?” he asked. His smile was rueful. And, yes, sexy.

Lord, help her.

Asia shook her head, covering her mouth. “I’m sorry. This is just...” She cradled her forehead in her palm. She was losing it. “My goodness, what am I doing?”

“Are you rethinking this pretend boyfriend thing?”

“I am until I look at you.” She took a sip of the water the waiter had placed before her, and then held one hand up. “I say this in a completely non-objectifying way, but you are crazy sexy, and walking into that mixer with you on Friday night will piss Cortland off.” She paused for a beat. “Okay, maybe it is a bit objectifying.”

“I’ll try not to take offense that you’re using me for my face.”

“Your body, too.”

His eyes shimmered with amusement, and Asia had the decency to blush. She was grateful that he was being such a sport about this, because in all honesty, she
was
treating him like a sex object. Her mother would be so disappointed in her. Maybe.

“I hope you understand how much I appreciate this,” she told him. “You didn’t have to accept my offer.”

“I just told you that my other job is a dog walker. It’s not easy to turn down ten thousand dollars.”

She’d thrown out that number without putting much thought behind it. She would have been willing to pay even more if it meant Cortland would eat serious crow for the vile things he’d said to her the previous week.

“When you put it that way it
does
sound as if I’m making you my personal boy toy.” Or something even more degrading.

She should feel terrible about this. She didn’t.

Dexter leaned forward, and in a low, deep voice said, “Just remember that the sex is extra.”

All manner of warm and fuzzy sensations traveled along her spine. If he could bottle that sexiness, he wouldn’t have to walk another dog for the rest of his life.

Their waiter returned to take their order, providing a much needed buffer to the sexual tension pulsing across the table.

“You want the usual?” the waiter asked.

“With extra salsa,” Asia answered. Dexter ordered the skirt steak fajitas with an extra side of grilled shrimp.

After the waiter departed, Asia folded her hands on the table and began. “Let’s discuss exactly what I’ll require of you for the next month. I have several upcoming events where I will be forced to see Cortland in a non-work setting. The first is the mixer on Friday night. It’s a blend of Global Partners’ employees and clients.”

“That sounds like something I can handle,” he said, glancing toward the pier where the loud horn of the East River Ferry had just blown.

“The mixer will be just a dry run,” Asia said. “The real test will be the wedding of our mutual friends, Rodney and Elizabeth.”

His eyes rushed back to her. “Ouch, I have to attend a wedding?”

“In Connecticut.” A potential snag suddenly occurred to her. “Is a dog walker allowed to go out of town? Do you have fellow dog walking colleagues ready to take up the slack?”

“Yes, a dog walker is allowed to leave town,” he said, that shadow of a smile tracing across his lips.

“Keep in mind that this isn’t just a few hours of your time. There’s an entire weekend of events planned. Apparently it’s some new trend with weddings,” Asia said with a nonchalant wave. “So, you’re comfortable going to Connecticut with me for an entire weekend?”

“Shouldn’t I be the one asking that question? You don’t know very much about me. I could be a serial killer who uses this gig as a front for finding my victims.”

Her heartbeat accelerated at his statement. “I’m originally from Camden, New Jersey. I have a gun and I know how to use it,” Asia said calmly, despite an uptick in her heart rate.

He put his hands up, grinning. “I’m not a serial killer.”

“I didn’t think so.”

The waiter returned carrying an oval tray, a ribbon of smoke trailing behind him. He set a basket of tortilla chips and two small bowls of salsa before her and presented Dexter with a sizzling skillet of beef strips, grilled shrimp, and vegetables, along with the rest of the accompaniments for his fajitas. The pungent aroma of garlic and chili wafting from his side of the table stung her eyes.

“Enjoy,” the waiter said before departing.

Dexter’s forehead wrinkled as he stared at the bowl of tortilla chips. “Is that all you’re having?”

“I’m not a big fan of Mexican food.”

“But I thought you said you eat here at least once a week?”

The salsa-laden chip she held stopped midair. “It’s Cortland’s favorite,” she said.

A fissure of unease cleaved her chest. For two years she’d come to this restaurant week after week, telling herself she was satisfied with chips and salsa for dinner if it meant keeping her fiancé happy. Making concessions had been a part of the deal, one more thing she could do to show Cortland that she loved him.

Asia set the chip down, her appetite suddenly evaporating.

She glanced at Dexter and a bulge of something she couldn’t fully identify clogged her throat at the expression on his face. It wasn’t pity. Empathy? Understanding? Whatever it was, it caused her heart to expand with gratitude.

“What type of food do you like?” he asked, wiping his hands on a napkin and pushing away from the table.

“No.” Asia caught him by the arm. “Sit. Enjoy your fajitas.”

“While you eat chips and salsa for dinner?”

“This is fine,” she said.

The look on his face said that he was ready to scoop her up and carry her to another restaurant if he had to, but he reclaimed his seat and returned to his meal.

“So,” Asia said after a beat. “Are you sure you’re willing to take this on?”

He set his fork on the edge of his plate, then folded his hands over his chest as he sat back in the chair. “You need me more than you realize, Asia.”

It took considerable effort to swallow past the lump of emotion that continued to reside in her throat. She didn’t know what had come over her. It was on only the rarest of occasions that she allowed her emotions to get the best of her, and never in public.

She cleared her throat. “I’ve already explained exactly what it is I want from you. Are you willing to agree to that, and only that?”

After a weighty pause he finally nodded, and that mixture of gratitude and relief filled her chest again.

Feeling as if a sudden weight had been lifted off her shoulders, she reached for another chip. “Now that that’s settled, let’s come up with a plausible story. We can say that we met while we were both shopping at Vino’s Cellar.”

“I’m not a wine drinker.”

“Not even a red with dinner?” He shook his head. This would be harder to pull off than she first thought. “Okay, we met at...”

“A coffee shop?” Dexter provided.

His eyes sparkled with something that made her insides quake, and Asia realized that looking at him for the next month would not be a hardship. In fact, she was already enjoying it way more than was wise.

“We need to figure out another occupation for you.”

“A dog-walking relationship advisor won’t impress the ex?”

She dropped her face into her hand. “I’m so sorry. That was incredibly insensitive of me.”

“I wouldn’t say it was
incredibly
insensitive.”

She peered at him through her gaped fingers, relieved at the hint of humor she heard in his voice.

“Why don’t we just say that I’m an independent consultant and leave it at that?” he suggested. “Now, what about you? What is it that you do at...what’s the name of your firm again?”

“Global Partners Public Relations. GPPR for short. We handle PR for many companies in the financial sector.”

“And what do you do at GPPR?” he asked as he folded strips of beef and vegetables inside a flour tortilla.

“Mostly I put out fires.” His puzzled look begged for further explanation. “I’m the head of the crisis-management department,” Asia clarified. “We mitigate unexpected emergencies that arise for our clients. Of course, because of the unexpected nature of the job I don’t punch a clock as you would with a regular nine-to-five. That was one of Cortland’s biggest issues.” Her eyes caught him staring from across the table. “He didn’t understand that I have to be ready to go at a moment’s notice.”

“Like a firefighter.”

She dipped a chip into the dish of fresh, burning hot salsa verde on the table. “It’s a fitting analogy.”

“So, when you’re not putting out fires, what do you do?”

“What do you mean?”

“Hobbies. Roller skating, stamp collecting, ways to fill your time when you’re not working? Does any of that sound familiar?”

She laughed softly. “I know what hobbies are. I just don’t have much time for them. The closest thing I have to a hobby is my wine collection.”

“Ah, that explains the look of horror when I told you I don’t drink wine.”

“I also like to watch black-and-white movies.” She pushed the bowl of chips aside and put her chin in her upturned palm. “Those old love stories starring Greta Garbo and John Gilbert.”

“I’ve watched one or two,” he said, assembling another fajita.

“
You
watch old black-and-white love stories?”

“Why not? I consider it research. I know it’s something that women like.”

She pointed a finger at him. “You know what I think? I think you were onto something with that serial killer scenario.”

“I’m not a serial killer, Asia.”

“No, but I think you do use this relationship advisor thing as a ploy to meet women.”

“I have never dated a single client outside of the agreed upon parameters. In fact, once my contract is fulfilled, I usually cut off all contact.”

“Usually?”

“With one exception. One of my earlier clients became a good friend. A strictly
platonic
friend.”

“You have to admit it’s a good way to meet women.”

“It’s a horrible way to meet women.” He laughed. “My clients have just ended long-term relationships. They are not in the frame of mind to jump into another, but the guys they date don’t know that. That’s one of the main reasons I started doing this, so that those women on the rebound wouldn’t go around breaking men’s hearts.”

“How noble of you. You get women ready to meet Mr. Right.”

His shoulder lifted in a modest shrug.

“Well, I’m not looking for Mr. Right. I just want to show Mr. Wrong just how wrong he is about me. Now, as far as payment goes, how do we handle that?”

“I require half upfront and the remaining balance upon conclusion of our time together.”

“I can have a check for you when we meet Friday night.”

“That works.” He wiped at the corners of his mouth and placed his napkin over the remnants of his dinner. “Now, I have a question. How do you want to handle public displays of affection?”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m pretending to be your new boyfriend. I assume we’re wild for each other, because what would be the point if your ex didn’t think that, right?”

She reached for her glass, sipped, then nodded.

“So, when we attend the mixer on Friday, will there be hand-holding? Me nibbling on your ear? My hand on your ass?”

Asia nearly spit out the sip of water she’d just taken. “Hand-holding is okay. Your hand on my ass may not be appropriate for a company function.”

He grinned and reached into her bowl for a chip. “It’ll get people talking.”

“I’d rather not be the subject of that kind of talk. Now, is there anything else?”

“Yeah.” He nodded. “When it comes to public displays of affection, you can put your hand on my ass any time.”

***

Dexter had anticipated the indignant flush that rushed to her cheeks, but he hadn’t counted on how much it would turn him on. He was quickly learning that Asia’s beauty was a constant, no matter what her disposition happen to be. Smiling, frowning, reflective, embarrassed; it didn’t matter. The woman was exquisite.

He’d also discovered that she was much easier to read once she let her guard down, and what he’d learned so far surprised him. For someone who had appeared so dauntless during their first two encounters, he’d had to peel back only a bit of her armor to expose her vulnerable side.

She’d put up a good front, but it was evident that her pride had taken a lashing from her ex. Dex was used to seeing shattered confidence. It was almost a given in the women that he worked with, but catching those glimpses of Asia’s bruised ego didn’t sit well with him. The prospect of giving the guy who’d caused her such pain a taste of his own medicine made Dex even more inclined to go along with this charade she wanted to carry out.

As if pretending to be her love interest for the next month was going to be a hardship.

Dexter had found himself focusing on her mouth more times than he could count as he’d sat across from her. It was the first sign that he would have to tread with caution around her. With every client he took on, Dexter understood that there was the danger of becoming too attached. It was a hazard of the job, one that he’d managed to avoid.

He had rules when it came to going to the next level with clients. He didn’t get intimate with just anyone. It was only in certain circumstances, and only with clients who he felt could handle a sexual relationship with someone who would, in no way, become a long-term love interest. For the few clients he’d slept with in the past, the sex was more of a way to stroke the woman’s ego than anything else.

He could all too easily see himself engaging in some ego-stroking sex with Asia.

“We should meet before the mixer so that we can arrive together,” she said.

Dexter shook his head, trying to remember where they were in the conversation. “I’m sorry, what was that?”

“Friday night? We should meet beforehand. The mixer is at the Flatiron Lounge a few blocks south of Madison Square Park. There’s a bar at the corner of 19th and Broadway. I can meet you there and we can walk over to the event together. The dress code is semiformal, but most of the men will probably be dressed in business attire. That charcoal gray suit you wore when you came to my office would be fine,” she said.