Читать книгу The Personal Touch - Lori Borrill - Страница 11

MARGOT ROTH was cute. That was the impression that lingered in Clint’s mind as he stood in her downtown office with her and her partner, Alan. Her round face complemented a wide mouth and big brown eyes. She was shorter than average, Clint doubted she’d hit five-five in three-inch heels, and her figure was curved and fleshy. Definitely girl-next-door with her shoulder-length brown hair and bright, unassuming smile. Nothing like the tall, chiseled beauties he typically gravitated to.

Which was why it puzzled him that he couldn’t seem to keep his eyes off her.

He followed as she moved toward a short corridor and down the hall, his gaze continually dipping to the bottom half of her hourglass figure. He liked the way it looked wrapped up in those coffee-brown slacks—shapely and touchable, firm but entirely feminine. Her legs were lengthened by high-heeled sandals that had something sparkly on them, like rhinestones or glitter, and her white ruffled blouse topped her off like whipped cream on a hot fudge sundae.

“Have a seat,” he heard her say, and it was only then he realized they’d actually entered her office. He quickly darted his eyes somewhere respectable before she caught him gawking and labeled him a perv. He didn’t typically give every woman the full Hilton once-over, but then again, it wasn’t every woman who flew into his radar like Margot Roth had.

Taking in his surroundings, he was surprised by the antique furniture in her office. The reception area had been ultra contemporary with bright-colored sofas, tall, sleek palms and bold canvas artwork. This room was like stepping into another world. A large mahogany table took the place of her desk. Queen Anne, if he knew his furniture. And she’d played the rest of the room off it with an antique sideboard subbing for a credenza, large, chunky bookcases framing the back wall and a deep burgundy Persian rug defining the space.

It occurred to him that it fit her, rich and textured, comfortable and calm, and the more he saw of Ms. Roth, the more she intrigued him.

She gestured to one of the two cushioned chairs facing her, and he took the one closest, edging it away from the table to give room for his long frame. After she’d gathered a pad and pen, she smiled and asked, “So how can I help you, Mr. Hilton?”

He cleared his throat and tried to recall why he was there—a minute detail that seemed to have slipped his mind in the short moments between his car and her office.

“My mother,” he said. “She’s in need of a companion.” Then he added abruptly, “A male companion.”

She winked. “I’d assumed as much since we don’t breed dogs here.”

His laugh was heartier than it should have been. “I tried that one already. Now I’ve got a bored mother and a dog.”

“So she’s looking for a gentleman now.”

“Well, she’s not exactly looking. I am. I was hoping you could give me some pointers on how I can find her a date…or two.”

She quirked her brow. “I’m not sure I understand, Mr. Hilton. You want to find a companion for your mother, but you’d like to do it yourself?”

He didn’t like the look in her eyes or her skeptical tone. In business, it was always the first sign of a deal going bad.

“Maybe I should start at the beginning.”

He gave her a brief rundown of his parent’s thirty-five year marriage and then skipped to these last six months. That was when his mother seemed to have settled with the idea of life after his father, and that his brother’s assignment in Afghanistan wasn’t a death sentence. She’d gotten past her worries and her mourning and had officially entered the stage of healing called Drive Clint Crazy.

Margot made a number of notes as he spoke, and when he was done, she set the pen down and asked, “Have you suggested your mother get a place of her own?”

“Every time I feel like watching her burst into tears.”

She nodded and considered for a moment. “So she doesn’t feel capable of living on her own, but you feel she’s ready for a relationship.”

“My mother’s capable and ready. She’s just afraid of being left forgotten and alone. It’s unfounded, but unfortunately she’s not giving me the chance to prove otherwise. If I were a psychiatrist, I’d say she feels she’s lost her husband and youngest son. Sticking at my house is her unconscious way of making sure she doesn’t lose me, too. Of course, that’s just a guess. I’m not a psychiatrist.”

“No, but you’d like to be a matchmaker.”

Ouch. He’d walked right into that one.

He studied her for an extra beat and damn, if he didn’t sizzle over her no-nonsense style. He liked sharp women who weren’t intimidated by him. Thanks to his wealth and reputation as one of the area’s premier builders, it wasn’t always easy finding them.

He scanned the room, now curious to know if she was single. There weren’t any family portraits on the antique tabletop, and her ring finger was bare, but that didn’t always mean much.

Had Carmen mentioned anything he’d forgotten?

“What exactly are you hoping to get from me, Mr. Hilton?”

“Clint.”

“Okay, Clint.”

“Well—for a fee, of course—I’d like advice on how I can find a nice man for my mother.”

“I’d be more than happy to meet with your mother.”

“Yeah, well…” He scratched the back of his neck. “I would love for you to meet my mother. The problem is, she’s a little skeptical when it comes to matchmakers.”

“That’s not uncommon. I’m sure if she came to the office and we talked—”

“No, that’s not going to work.”

When she raised a brow, he gave in and told her about Palm Springs and the fight between his mother and Marge. He hadn’t wanted to go there, fearing he’d insult Margot’s profession, but the more he spoke with her, the more he gathered straight talk would get him farther than charm.

“Unfortunately, I think you’re mistaken about what I do here.” She slid a glossy brochure across the table. “I’m a dating counselor. And yes, I do bring couples together, but successful matchmaking isn’t something that can be summed up in a couple tips. Much of what I do is consultative. I know all my clients very well, and while there are a number of indicators that can make two people likely candidates for each other, I ultimately work off instinct. It’s what differentiates my practice from the typical survey-style dating services.”

“I didn’t mean to diminish your profession.”

That pleasant smile returned. “No offense taken. I’m only saying that if you want my help in finding a man for your mother, I’d need to meet her. Anything short of that would just be things like—” she shrugged “—suggesting she try volunteer work, or maybe join a local garden club or a gym that caters to people her age.”

“She’s already done that.”

“Does she belong to a church or synagogue?”

He shook his head. “It’s not that my mother doesn’t get out. It’s that she’s forgotten how to be single. She doesn’t know how to act around men so she comes across flippant and disinterested. And I think she’s a little scared.”

She kept an understanding expression as he explained, and as he talked to her, he began to believe Carmen had been right in sending him here. He liked Margot’s style. Not only did she come across confident and capable, there was something approachable about her that kept him at ease, as though he were talking to a good friend.

A good, sexy friend.

“These issues are very normal for people in your mother’s situation,” she said. “Many of my clients share those same fears.”

“Men my mother’s age?”

“A good percentage of my clients are in her age group, yes.”

Damn, the woman was perfect for him. Carmen was right. Now he only needed to figure a way to make use of her services. He wondered if it was possible to change his mother’s mind about matchmakers. But then he remembered her hour-long rant about Marge and realized it wasn’t going to happen.

“But keep in mind, I can’t help your mother if she isn’t ready to date again,” Margot pointed out.

“I know my mother would be open to dating if she felt more confident with herself. She just needs some help. She needs to brush up on her conversation skills, learn to put out the vibe.”

Margot blinked. “The vibe?”

“Sure, the vibe.” He flashed his favorite half-cocked smile, the one that caught a woman’s attention one hundred percent of the time. And when Margot’s eyelids fluttered in response, his playful side couldn’t help but take the bait.

Holding on to the smile, he lowered his voice and slid his gaze to her lips.

“It’s that unspoken body language that says you’d like to get better acquainted. The look that says you’re intrigued, that maybe sometime before the night is over you’d like to share a drink…or something.”

A heavy swallow slid down her throat and he trailed his eyes lower, down the curve of her neck to the small beaded necklace that hung at her chest. He dotted his gaze over every bead and went on. “It’s an art, you know, letting a person know you’re attracted without saying a word.” He continued down the neckline of her silky white blouse, into the barest hint of cleavage that teased among the ruffles. He lingered there for a pause, letting his mind wander behind the fabric before continuing over her breasts and down her waist. “Some people have mastered it so well they can practically have sex without laying a hand on each other.”

Then he turned his gaze back the way he came, and when it reached her face, he could see the flush in her cheeks had deepened.

Evidently, the look that worked one hundred percent of the time still held its streak.

“Well,” she said with a husky edge that she tried to cough away, “that’s quite a vibe.” She reached for the mug at her side and took a sip. “I’ve got a few clients who could use a look like that.”

“And I’ve got a mother who needs your help. Maybe we could work a trade.”

She blinked back to the moment, though her eyes never left his mouth. “I’m sorry, but as I’ve said I can’t do much without meeting your mother.”

He glanced down at the brochure in front of him. Margot’s list of credentials was long, as were the lengths she went through to make sure her clients were top-notch. She ran background checks, conducted interviews, took references and searched databases he’d never even heard of. Call it instinct. Call it a gut reaction. But he knew without a doubt, Margot was exactly what he needed—someone who understood his mother’s situation and would keep her best interest at heart.

“Then we’ll have to figure out a way for you to meet her.” He leveled his eyes with hers. “Her only problem is with using the services of a matchmaker. She wouldn’t have anything against you personally.”

“I don’t understand.”

Clint didn’t exactly, either. He was thinking out loud, but the more he thought, the more intent he was to get Margot and his mother together.

“Have dinner with us.”

“I won’t lie about my profession if that’s where you’re going.”

“The only thing you need to lie about is the fact that I’ve hired you. We’ll tell her you’re a friend, or—”

“Mr. Hilton, honesty in relationships is one of my core principles.” She flipped the brochure over to show him, and sure enough, there it was right there in big hunter green letters.

“I’m not asking you to date my mother. I’m asking you to get to know her so you can help me find her a man.”

She opened her mouth to argue, but he cut her off with his ace in the hole that always got him what he wanted.

“I’ll pay you five times your regular fee.”

The argument caught in her throat and she sat with her mouth open. “I’m very expensive.”

“I’m very intent on getting your help.”

She didn’t seem to know what to say to that, so he kept going. “It’s simple. We’re honest about everything. I’m renovating the Fuller building on 6th. Where do you typically have lunch?”

“Capras. It’s an Italian deli—”

“I know it well.” He folded his hands and continued. “We met at Capras. I asked you to dinner at my place. That’s all she has to know.”

“I’m not sure…”

She was wavering, but he knew the temptation of money had her considering it. Money always had that effect on people. And to cinch the deal, he went in for the kill.

“Have dinner with me and my mother, once, twice, however many times you need. Be completely up-front and honest about everything, aside from the one little tidbit about me paying you to be there—five times what you usually charge.”

“You have no idea how much that is.”

He resorted back to the winning smile. “I have a feeling you’re worth every penny.”

Her eyes fluttered again and he knew he was on the brink of getting his way.

“My standard contract would have to be altered. This is rather unusual—”

“Write it up as you see fit and send it over to my office.”

She bit her lip and studied the brochure between them. He knew he nearly had her, and the fact that she was asking questions was good.

“I don’t know what guarantee I can offer, with my hands tied, I’m not sure—”

“Guarantee that you’ll have dinner with me and my mother for any set number of times you feel is necessary to offer a consultation.” Then he met those big brown eyes with his most serious and assuring expression. “That’s all I’m asking.”

She stared at him for a long time. Long enough for his conscience to question if he truly wanted this for his mother or if there was a teeny little side of him that wanted a date for himself. Not that he’d ever had to pay a woman to date him. But the sentiment remained. This discussion had left him both intrigued by Margot Roth and nearly certain there was something brewing between them. It was the subtle spark of chemistry he’d felt the second he’d stepped into her office. And through this conversation, that spark wouldn’t die.

If Margot needed to get to know his mother, Clint suspected half the fun could be getting to know Margot in return. A win-win, so to speak. The virtual golden egg when it came to business dealings. Or business dealings that turned to pleasure.

“I’ll do it,” she finally said.

Clint smiled and pulled a business card from his wallet. “I think we’ll make a good team.”

“Maybe I can feel her out. The best solution would be to ultimately warm her up to the idea of using my services. That way, I could offer a standard contract with the standard guarantees. At this point, all I can—”

He rose. “Stop worrying. If I wasn’t sure I’d get my money’s worth, I wouldn’t have made the offer.”

Her smile was laced with trepidation, but he had a sense that the next time he saw her—after she’d had a chance to think this through and come up with an action plan—the sharp and confident Margot Roth would make a grand return. In fact, he’d almost bet on it.

When she pushed from her chair, he offered his hand. “Call me when you’ve got a contract and we can discuss next steps.”

MARGOT TOOK THE HAND of the tall, sexy man who had waltzed into her office and turned her afternoon on end. She could tell by his casual ease that this meeting was simply another stop in an average day for Clint Hilton. Rarely did he walk away without closing a deal, she presumed, and she had to admit, he was good. He’d pushed all the right buttons to have her lapping out of his hands. And as he said his goodbyes and made his way out of her office, she felt she’d just witnessed a master at work.

What had she done? For a woman who worked off strict principles, who believed in demonstrating the same ethics she expected of her clients, she’d somehow managed to throw it all out the window by something as basic as money and charm.

But oh, did Clint Hilton have charm. That sexy look alone nearly had her going along before he’d sunk the eight ball by quintupling her salary. She’d practically felt his fingers running all over her as he’d demonstrated “the vibe.” Heck, she might have offered her services at half price if he’d done it again, and it amazed her that something so primal could hold so much power.

For someone who thought she knew everything about dating, that look was one for the record books. She lowered back to her chair and reached for her water, wishing it was something stronger.

“And what did tall, rich and handsome want from you?”

Margot looked up to see Alan standing in her doorway. He was a tall, tanned man with a voice smooth as syrup and a calming manner that always put her at ease. Except today, it would take more than her business partner to shake the effects of Clint Hilton from her nerves. And only when she spoke and heard the trembling in her own voice did she realize the ramifications of what she’d done.

“I think I just agreed to be his girlfriend.”