Coda Books 04 - Strawberries for Dessert (MM)

about that.”
    He smiled. “Duty calls?”
    “Always. I’m sure you know how it is.”
    His smile got bigger. “Not really.”
    “What do you do?”
    His haircut was perfect. If he cocked his head to the right, his bangs fell to the side, allowing him to make eye contact. But if he looked down, or cocked his head the other way, as he did now, his hair fell in front of his eyes, making it harder to read his expression. “Such a predictable question, darling. What do you do?”
    “I’m the Senior Liaison Account Director for GuestLine Software, Incorporated.”
    His mouth twitched into a smile. “That’s quite the title. What exactly is GuestLine Software, Incorporated?”
    “We write software for large hotels and resorts. Reservations, spa services and room charges, payroll and staffing. We put it all in one place so that—”
    “I don’t own a hotel, darling. You don’t have to sell it to me. Is that why you were in Vegas when you ran into Jared?”
    “Yes. We have three new clients there.”
    “And what exactly does a Senior Liaison Account Director do?”
    There was a mocking tone to his voice, and I tried not to be annoyed. It had taken a great deal of time and hard work to achieve that position in such a short time. “I help our new clients transfer the bookkeeping portion of their records into the GuestLine software.”
    “I see,” he said. “How long have you worked for them?”
    “Eight years.”
    “Eight years. Tell me, darling”—and now he tipped his head again so I could see his eyes— “are you happy being the Senior Liaison Account Director?”
    “Well, ultimately I would like to travel less. Another year or two, and I should be able to move up and start doing more of the in-house accounting. Another few years after that, and—”
    “Is there a position you’re aiming for, or do you just climb and climb until you can’t climb anymore?”
    The question seemed odd to me. Of course promotion was always the goal. “What do you mean?”
    “I mean, will there ever be a point where you’re happy with what you have and you can sit back and relax?”
    I wasn’t sure how to answer him, but it ended up not mattering because my phone rang. Again. And once again, everybody at the surrounding tables looked my way. I answered as quickly as possible.
    “This is Jonathan.”
    “Jonathan!” It was Marcus Barry again. “I’ve arranged for Lyle to cover Franklin Suites. I want you on a plane to LA Sunday evening.”
    “Of course.”
    “Let’s get this one wrapped up before they drive us both to drink.”
    I couldn’t have agreed more. “I’m sorry,” I said to Cole as I hung up. “It’s a new client, and—” He waved his hand at me dismissively, although it was obvious he found it less amusing the second time. “I don’t think he’ll call again,” I said as our food arrived. I turned my phone to vibrate and put it on the table next to me. We ate in silence for a while. The wine really did complement the lamb chops perfectly. I broke the silence by asking again, “What do you do?”
    He looked up from his plate, tilting his head so that his hair fell into his eyes again. I couldn’t tell if he was annoyed or amused by my question. “Is it so important?”
    “No,” I said, although I found it odd that he seemed unwilling to answer. “I was just curious.”
    “You’re curious, because somehow your image of who I am is all tied up with my profession?”
    “Well…” Wasn’t it? “Yes.”
    “What if I told you that I was a hustler?”
    “I—umm—” I realized I was stammering and stopped short. Was he serious? Had Jared given my number to a hustler? I had no idea how I was supposed to react. “I would tell you that I’m not paying you for anything tonight,” I finally said. On the other hand, it would mean that I could quit trying to make conversation with him. “Are you?” I asked.
    “Of course not,” he said, grinning at me, and I figured it was a good sign that I was relieved to hear it. “But the thought that I might be changed everything, didn’t it?” I had no idea what I was supposed to say. I felt like I was caught in some strange game of twenty questions.
    He laughed at me, and I tried not to be irritated by it. “You’re still dying to know, aren’t you?” he asked as he flipped his hair out of his eyes.
    Of course I was. His reluctance to answer only made me more curious. “Yes. It’s a simple question: what do you do?”
    He