“Okay. Thanks, Lois. I’ll see you tomorrow, then.”
“You’re off tomorrow.”
“Right. See you the day after, then.”
“Don’t be late.” Lois smiles and then heads back to the front of the restaurant.
I follow, leading Katelyn through the crowd of people waiting for a table and out the door.
Several yellow cabs are already waiting outside the restaurant. “Here, you go. It was really nice meeting you, Katelyn.”
She smiles. “You too, Luke.” She doesn’t let go of my hand.
“You know,” I say, thinking out loud, “you don’t live far from here. Only three blocks. Instead of a cab, what if I walked you home?”
Her eyes widen. “In the dark?”
“It’s dark, yes. I wouldn’t want you walking alone. But I promise you’re safe with me. Besides, this is downtown Manhattan. It’s well lit.”
For the first time, I wonder what Katelyn does for a living. She lives in an expensive neighborhood. Expensive even for Manhattan. Near the Wolfe building. She either comes from money or works with the Wolfes. Why else would she be having dinner with Zee Wolfe?
“It’s really safe?”
Her question confounds me. It’s dark, but it’s not late. And she has a male escort. I scan the area. Male-female couples are everywhere, walking, laughing, talking. Groups of women walk together as well.
Why is she so reticent?
“I promise to get you safely home,” I say, “but if you’re more comfortable in a cab—”
“No.” She stops me. “I think I’d like to walk with you.”
I can’t help myself. A giant smile splits my face. I don’t know why, but I’m relishing this extra fifteen minutes I’m going to have with Katelyn.
And it’s not because I loved kissing her, which I did.
It’s not because she’s beautiful, which she is.
It’s not because I’ve changed, which I have.
It’s because, deep inside, I know I’m feeling something I’ve never felt before.
And it feels good. Damned good.
“Tell me something about yourself,” I say.
She doesn’t reply at first, and just when I think she isn’t going to, she finally says, “I’m…looking for a job.”
Interesting. She doesn’t work for the Wolfes after all. “Oh? What kind of job?”
“Anything, really. I’m not really qualified for much.”
“Do you have a degree?”
“College? No. But I did finish high school.”
“What other jobs have you had recently?”
“I just moved here.”
“Where did you live before?”
Again, she stays silent for a few seconds, and I wonder if she won’t answer.
Finally, “I’m from LA originally.”
“Really? So am I.”
Shit. I’m not supposed to say that. I’ve got to be more careful.
“Are you?”
“Well, not LA exactly.” Maybe I can fix this. “Northern California.”
“Why’d you say LA, then?”
“I didn’t. You did.” No lie there. All I said was so am I.
She doesn’t push me, and I’m grateful.
“So what kind of work did you do in LA?” I prompt.
“I was… I was in the escort business.”
I stop my jaw from dropping. “You don’t mean…”
“No. Just a paid escort. You know, to social events.” She watches her feet as we walk. “But I don’t want to do that anymore. Unfortunately, it doesn’t leave me qualified for much else than to look pretty on someone’s arm.”
And I bet she was the belle of the ball wherever she went.
I’m no stranger to beautiful LA women, and Katelyn is in a class by herself. Now that she mentioned LA, I can totally see it. Light blond hair and blue eyes, beach body, perfectly creamy skin that looks good with any color of gown. Did she attend the Oscars on a celebrity’s arm? The Emmys? Grammys? Hollywood premieres?
I don’t doubt it, and a sliver of jealousy spikes into me. Odd. Not because I’m jealous. That’s normal. It’s even normal to want to pummel all the rich men who probably escorted her to galas and benefits. What’s odd is that I no longer have the urge to lock her away to keep her safe and under my control. Sure, I want to protect her, but within reason.
I’ve come a long way.
And that makes me smile.
“Do you want me to ask Lois if there’s a place for you at the restaurant?”
“I’ve never waited tables. And I’m horrible in a kitchen.”
“What about hosting?”
“I’ve never done that.”
“Hmm…I don’t know if you’re qualified. It requires a lot of wearing sharp clothes and looking pretty.”
“I’m sure there’s more to it than that.”
“Of course. Can you read?”
“I think I just told you I’m a high school graduate.”
“That doesn’t always mean much, but I was only kidding. I know you can read, Katelyn. That’s all hosting requires. You read the reservations list, or you take names. You answer the phone to take reservations, and you lead people to their table. I’m pretty sure none of that is beyond your capabilities.”
“As I recall, The Glass House already has a lovely hostess and a maître d’.”
“Sure. We have several. Doesn’t mean there isn’t room for another.”
She pauses a moment. “I’m not sure I’m good enough with people.”
“You were an escort, Katelyn. You must be good with people.”
Silence again. “Maybe. I can type, you know. I think I’d rather type.”
“And be stuck in a cubicle all day? Working at a restaurant would be a lot more fun. Plus, important people come in all the time. You probably already know this, but you’re gorgeous, Katelyn. Model gorgeous. Agents come in all the time looking for fresh faces.”
“I’m way too old to be a model.”
She may be right. I don’t have a clue about modeling. All I know is she’s the most spectacular-looking woman I’ve seen in a long time, including my time in LA, where spectacular-looking women threw themselves at me on a regular basis.
“I’m not looking to get discovered or anything,” she says. “I left LA to get away from all that.”
“And you came to Manhattan.”
More silence. She must know that her reasoning makes no sense at all.
Then again, I shouldn’t be in Manhattan either. I should be on a farm in a flyover state, but I couldn’t leave the city life totally behind, even though I hate New York.
“I have…friends here,” she finally says.
“The Wolfes?”
“Zee Wolfe, yes. She’s my friend.”
“How did you two meet?”
Silence again.
And this time she never replies.
9
Katelyn
Does he notice I don’t answer? It doesn’t matter, anyway, as we arrive at my building.