Worth the Risk_ A Contemporary - Megan Hart Page 0,53

her questions strange, he was well-trained enough not to show it. "Sure. We get a lot of guys through who just need money for a while. Or they think it's going to be some great sex gig--" Derek paused and looked embarrassed. "Sorry. We're not supposed to talk about that."

"I won't tell," Laila promised. "Do you guys ever hang out when you're not working?"

Now Derek looked a little scared. "Why do you ask?"

"Just curious." Laila bit her own chocolate pie, which was like sawdust in her mouth. It would be so much easier if she could just come right out and ask him if he knew Hal, but she'd learned the hard way from date number one that the LoveMatch confidentiality agreement was incredibly revered. None of the escorts wanted to be tracked down by desperate, lovesick clients.

"We hang out at the gym sometimes." Derek pushed his pie away, as though he no longer could stomach it. "Yeah, sometimes we get together for drinks. Watch the game. Stuff like that."

Now she was getting somewhere. "Anybody you particularly like to hang out with?"

Derek's gaze grew wary. He lowered his voice to a whisper. "Who sent you?"

"What?" Laila had no idea what he could mean.

Derek's fingers clutched at his napkin. "Did Brandon send you?"

"Who?" All of a sudden Laila felt like she'd stepped into a big pile of something warm. And not chocolate pie.

"He did, didn't he?" Derek sat back, jaw clenched. "I told him it's just a job!"

"Whoa, wait a minute." Laila was getting the picture, and it was one she didn't particularly want in her mental photo album. "You and Brandon are--"

"He's my boyfriend," Derek said, as though she should know. "You mean he didn't send you to spy on me?"

Laila shook her head. Now Derek looked chastened and a little scared. His fingers folded the cloth napkin nervously.

"It's okay," Laila said. She had an idea that Derek's regular clientele might not be too thrilled to learn what she just had. "Brandon didn't send me. I'm just trying to get some information about one of your former co-workers."

Derek looked so relieved, Laila thought he might kiss her. "Why didn't you just ask?"

"Confidentiality," Laila whispered.

Derek leaned across the table and Laila caught the scent of his cologne. Something spicy and insolent. Sexy. He flashed her a look with his dark eyes and smiled a slow, sensuous grin that she knew was contrived. She felt it ripple through her anyway.

"I'll keep yours if you keep mine," he said.

"His name is Hal," Laila said. "And I want to find him."

"I'll have another one of these." The attractive blonde sitting at the bar tilted her head toward her drink. She plucked the sodden paper umbrella out of it and twirled it between her fingers. "Please."

"Coming right up." The night was young, but Hal was already exhausted. Last night had been dead in here, but tonight's crowd came seeking hot wings and cold drinks at Thursday night prices. Though he normally shared the bar with another 'tender, the other guy had called off. Hal had to work the crowd alone. That, on top of a heavy day of classes and little sleep for the past few weeks--he wasn't exactly feeling like Tom Cruise in the movie where he flung the bottles around.

"Hal, you got those wings ready yet?" Sandy, the waitress, stepped behind the bar to grab a couple of beers.

Hal glanced over his shoulder to check the counter next to the kitchen doors. "Not out yet, Sandy. Sorry."

"Shoot." Sandy blew a strand of dark brown hair out of her eyes. "They're gonna start screaming for blood instead of blue cheese."

"Another drink?" the blonde asked impatiently, wiggling her paper umbrella at Hal.

He nodded, pushed past Sandy and headed for the blender. "Right away."

"Hey, buddy, can I get another couple of shots over here?"

"Waiting on daiquiri!"

"How about a rum and Coke?"

Where are they all coming from? Hal felt like he was being attacked by a bunch of zombies, only ones that weren't hungry for flesh. This crowd of creeping undead wanted booze.

He poured drinks, passed platters of wings and generally tried to keep from being bowled over by the crowd. Hal wouldn't have said he was enjoying himself, but there was a sense of relief in the brain-numbing repetition of the tasks before him. It gave his mind a rest from the constant cycle of thoughts about Laila.

Everything was going along like a well-orchestrated waltz. It wasn't until Sandy came back behind the bar again that