He doesn’t look surprised or offended by the question. “I was working as a waiter, trying to put myself through grad school without taking out loans. And a friend of mine was hired by Companions for Hire and told me about it. The company was just starting out, but the pay was better than anything I could earn waiting tables. And I turned out to be good at it.”
“That’s because you’re so unjustly hot,” I say in a mournful tone.
His mouth gives a little twitch, but he answers seriously. “Not just that. To be a success at this kind of thing, you’ve got to have more than looks going for you. You’ve got to be able to understand what women are looking for and then find ways of meeting it.”
I think about that. “I guess so. So do you have sex?”
His brows arch up.
“As part of the jobs I mean.” I’m flushing again, and it’s really starting to annoy me that I can’t control my responses with this man.
“It’s a possibility,” he says slowly. “But it has to stay entirely off the books for Companions for Hire. They’re very careful about that. Is that something you’re interested—”
“No!” I burst out. “No, no. That’s not why I was asking. I mean, there’s nothing wrong with it. If people want to... But I wouldn’t be at all comfortable paying for that.”
“Okay.” Damian looks relaxed again. “If you change your mind, I’m happy to discuss it. But for now we’ll consider it not part of the job.”
Oh my God. I have no idea how I’ve stumbled into this particular conversation. It feels messy. Very, very messy. I want it to be over now.
“Since we’re asking direct questions,” Damian goes on, “can I ask you something?”
I nod, holding my breath as I wait to hear what he’ll say.
“How do you have enough money to afford to pay so much for a job that’s mostly just a convenience for you?”
I let out my breath. That’s an easy question and not one that digs too deeply into who I am. “Oh. I’ve got a lot of money.”
“That was my assumption based on the fact that you’re doing this. I was hoping for more specifics. Aurora said you run a tech company?”
“I don’t. I mean, not anymore. I did. Steve and I did. We were friends from college, and we would work on projects together a lot. Anyway, we developed some software that ended up being super helpful for mobile phones. Last year we sold the company for a ridiculous amount of money. It’s more than I can spend in my life.”
“So what do you do now?”
“I still play around, developing new stuff. I’m always trying to find a project that will grab me. I like to work. I’m not the kind of person to be happy lying around and spending money all the time. I’d get bored in a couple of months.”
He nods like he understands. “So you still work a lot?”
“Yeah. Most of the time. That’s what I mean about you having plenty of time and privacy. I don’t have a big social life. I’m on the computer most of the day. You’re not going to have to go out with me at all during the week. Just on the weekends when we visit my mom in Charleston.”
“Have you always gone to see her on the weekends?”
“Not every weekend but a lot of them. Ever since I moved to Atlanta for college and then stayed here.” I run my finger down my coffee cup. “Does that sound strange to you?”
“No. Not at all.”
“What about your family?” I ask.
“What about them?”
“Do you see them often?”
“As often as I can, but not regularly. Usually three or four times a year.”
“Do you have any siblings?”
“No. You?”
I shake my head, feeling a strange moment of bonding with him for no reason that makes any sense. A lot of people are only children. That doesn’t mean Damian and I have something significant in common.
“Okay,” I say, shaking off the odd feeling. “I think this will work if you’re still on board.”
“I’m on board.” He gives a little smile. I might describe it as a breathtaking smile, but I’m trying not to notice that kind of thing. “I’d say we should shake on it, but it seems like you don’t do that.”
“No. Not really. But I’m planning to stop by Companions for Hire later today and sign the contract, so that will have to seal the