Chapter 6 Trust

My lips grew tense. It was difficult enough for me to attend the occasion without my dad's presence. I had to put a stop to the talk. "We've already discussed this. Soon, it will be over.

We were both staring at my reflection when my dad commented, "You look stunning." Who is the man? Some awkward, lonesome nerd who has no idea how to approach women?"

I wanted it to be geeky. I bit my lip and made an effort to contain my interest in Steve. Since I had been concentrating on him all week, it was beginning to annoy me that I was devoting my free time to him rather than getting compensated for it. I wore a smile all the time." Probably. Nothing matters. Because it is a charity event, it typically ends by midnight.

My father scratched the unruly hairs on his chin as he gave me a narrowing of the eyes. You don't appear anxious.

Why make a big deal out of something that was just a routine event? I did a fancy yawn while looking at my watch. "I'm not. It's merely a business transaction that will deposit a sizable sum of money into my account.

"Okay. I guess you should try to have fun then," he complained.

I narrowed one eye. "Let me try. I baked some of the cornbread that goes well with chili for you. While I'm gone, please don't rev the engine. Around the house, my dad and I were accustomed to cracking obscene jokes. It was the only way I could distract him from thinking about Mom.

"Okay. He laughed, keeping a straight face. "I'll save some delicious, savory ones for when you get back.

It took some effort not to pick at my freshly painted fingernails while I waited for the driver. I was clueless about what to do with myself. I blew cool air across my face and pleaded with my pores not to perspire. Why the heck did I feel so anxious? A short while later, the door received a knock, and the driver informed me that Mr. Clifford was waiting for me outside of his penthouse. After picking him up, we would both travel to the charity event. It was shrewd. It makes little sense to arrive in different cars.

I gave Dad a final wave before getting in the car. It didn't take that long to get to the penthouse. When we parked next to another black SUV, I caught a glimpse of Mr. Clifford's muscular frame inside. He was dressed in one of those professional outfits that highlighted his powerful, athletic build. We finally locked eyes on Monday when he emerged from the building. I took a deep, wholesome breath while fighting the urge to quiver. He is only a dude.

I said, "Good evening, Mr. Clifford," in a formal tone, assuring him that this was strictly a business transaction. I reminded my knees not to sag by rubbing my hand across my thigh. Even though he traced slowly over my body, it didn't help. Most likely hoping to test if I wouldn't make him look bad. Of course I wouldn't, either. I had training for this position.

His lips became drier. Salutations, Miss Allison. Wouldn't using first names be more appropriate in this situation?

He was accurate. His voice was strong, and I felt my stiff shoulders loosen. "Sure," you say.

Without saying a word, we entered the car. I was used to having to listen as my former clients talked loudly in my ear. I was unbothered. I had to act professionally because I had to be trained for this. So I was surprised when I heard him humming quietly. He sat on the opposite side of the car, acting as though he was respecting my personal space. I wanted to come closer, but I was reluctant to do so. I needed to confront him, find out why he was acting in this way, and yell angrily at him to tell me everything that had happened in his life. Instead, I sat with my legs crossed and pretended to gaze at the nighttime skyline.

I had undoubtedly been to the location of the charity event before, perhaps even for a related work occasion. The hand Steve offered me, I took. My body was ravaged by electric waves that were unleashed by his powerful, manly hand. As my feet delicately touched the curb, I was able to muster a smile of gratitude. He held on to my hand as we made our way to the door. I needed to accept that. I had mentioned in my profile that I would be more than happy to hold the hand of a customer.

I now regret doing so. Heat rushed through my body, making me flush.

As we made our way along the red carpet, a jazz ensemble with a lively beat could be heard outside. As we continued to go, photographers lined the rope and flashed their long lenses. I made a couple smiley faces as instructed in my training, trying to appear as amiable as possible. The woman muttered, perhaps speculating as to who I was and why I was on his arm. I suddenly realized that Steve Clifford was a well-known millionaire who was well-known across the nation. Is it true that I was the only one to snooze under a rock? He must have thought it odd that I didn't surround him like everyone else on Monday. I made a mental note to apologize later for not knowing more about celebrities.

Please ignore any commotion you may hear. They merely desire to spread misinformation among the populace. Steve spoke to me, his body heat spreading to mine. How many escorts had previously been with him? He had a polished voice.

"Are there any lies to tell?" Before I could control myself, the question escaped my mouth. I immediately felt bad about it. It was so unprofessional, yet I yearned to learn more about this enigmatic man with every fiber of my being.

As he fixed his attention on me, he grinned slightly. "Possibly."

Tonight there was a huge throng, which was something I wasn't used to seeing. I had previously gone to charity events, but this was much more. I got anxious at large gatherings. I desired for the earth to swell up and engulf me entirely. I shrugged the fear off and made a mental commitment to control my language.

"Mr. Clifford, would you like a glass of wine?" A thin waiter asked and extended his drink tray.

"Allison," Steve said, gesturing for the waiter to come over to me. He had no trouble pronouncing my last name.