Arm Candy. Jo Leigh

But don’t worry. I won’t interfere. I’ve been given the rules, which I intend to obey to the letter.”

      The pink in Owen’s cheeks got a little darker. “But I, uh…”

      “Jessica has told me how great you’ve been, and how much she’s learned from you. I’m impressed.”

      Again, Owen blinked. Rapidly. “Impressed.”

      “You bet. She’s so damn bright, I never expected her to find a boss who could keep her on her toes. But you sure have.”

      Now it was Jessica’s turn to clear her throat. “Owen was just leaving,” she said, “because I have calls to make. You know, uh, business calls.”

      “Right,” Dan said. “Well, great meeting you, Owen.” He picked up his bag. “I’m sure we’ll see a lot of each other. I look forward to it.”

      Owen’s mouth opened, but nothing came out.

      Dan didn’t wait for words. He just walked to the door, held it open for Jessica, then closed it behind them.

      As for Jessica, she walked straight to a white chair by the window, picked up a glass and swallowed the contents.

      “Pretty slick, eh?” he said, heading toward the closet. “I think he bought it.”

      “I think we almost had to call the paramedics.”

      Dan chuckled. “I figured why not go for it? Give him both barrels right from the get-go. Give him something to chew on while he sits it out in his suite.”

      Jessica studied him with a bit more wariness than he cared for. “I don’t imagine he’ll need another demonstration that’s quite so vivid.”

      “Maybe not. But as you’ve said, he isn’t one to grasp the subtleties.”

      Her eyes widened. “That was about as subtle as a Sherman tank.”

      “And fun, too. How about that?”

      Jessica put down her glass and crossed her arms. She looked terrific in her cream jacket and slim skirt. Those high heels made her seem taller, which, he supposed, was the point for her, but they made him itch to run his fingers down the long line of her calf.

      She did do a pretty good job of looking stern and no-nonsense, he had to give it to her. “About the fun part,” she said, her tone keeping pace with her scowl. “This is a job, and I have no intention of letting it get even the slightest bit out of hand. If it becomes necessary for you to put on a show of affection, I insist that you take the minimum step, not the maximum, and that you always keep in mind that it means nothing. Absolutely nothing.”

      He nodded, trying to match her seriousness. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have made any reference to my enjoyment level. It was unprofessional. I’ve never been a paid escort before, so you’ll have to forgive me. I’ll do better in the future.”

      He could tell she wasn’t sure if he was mocking her, and for a moment he thought she might really let into him, but she didn’t. She just uncrossed her arms and went to the coffee table, where she got her phone from her purse. “Feel free to put your things away. This couch opens up into a bed, so you can plan accordingly.” Then she started punching in a phone number.

      He took her at her word and unpacked. He’d brought a wide selection of clothes, from city casual to black-tie, not knowing what kind of events he’d be expected to attend. When he stashed his night kit in the bathroom, he thought it prudent to keep the condoms tucked away with his razor and shaving cream.

      When all was stashed, he poured himself a soda from the bar, got his notes from his briefcase and sat down at the corner desk.

      He listened to Jessica for a few minutes while he pretended to read. And while the conversation about overtime for models didn’t interest him in the least, the way she carried herself did.

      Glen had been very accurate when he’d described her as a powerhouse. She conducted business from a position of strength and confidence, and even though he only heard her side of the negotiations, he could tell she was going to get her way. There was no doubt in her mind, and it was only a matter of time before she’d convinced the model’s rep of the same thing.

      Good. His instincts had been right on. This wasn’t a woman who was going to get all shy and giggly when he asked her about clitoral stimulation. He studied his notes, scanning the outline he’d made the night before. It wasn’t complete, but he figured the dialogue would suggest other topics and tangents.

      He wished they could start right now. Looking at her again, leaning back against the satin chair, her auburn hair shimmering against the white background, her skirt mid-thigh, her ankles crossed, he wondered what he would ask her first. He’d led with the most obvious question of all, at least in his notes. “What do you want from a man?” But now that seemed the wrong approach. Because if he asked her something like that, she’d give him a quick answer, undoubtedly correct, but limited in thought and perspective. By the time he got to that question, he wanted her to have lived with him for a while, with the concepts he was exploring. He wanted an answer that was as complex as the woman before him, nothing less.

      So what would start the dialogue? He was hoping that her answers would provoke and startle him, get him thinking in new arenas.

      He’d read all the books that were currently in vogue, but none of them had given him precisely what he was looking for.

      When he’d been in the few relationships that had lasted any time at all, there had been something illusive, something “other” about the women he cared for. Something that had doomed them, he was convinced, from the start.

      His father had clearly understood his mother, because they had been like two sides of the same coin. They had a shared language, reserved only for the two of them. Unfortunately, he hadn’t thought of asking his dad about his secret while he’d had the chance. Not that he hadn’t talked to other married men, but they’d all said pretty much the same thing: listen to her. Put her first. Don’t try to solve all her problems, just pay attention and only make suggestions when asked. Which was all fine and good, but it didn’t get to the essential mystery. At least not for him.

      It had occurred to him that while he might be bright as hell when it came to computer software and basic research, maybe the missing ingredient was in him, not in the information he was lacking. But this experiment was designed to bring that flaw to the fore, should that be the case. He wouldn’t be pleased to know it, but at least he’d stop trying so damn hard.

      No, this was worthwhile, and he couldn’t do anything to muck it up. Jessica had all the qualities of a perfect research subject, and he was privileged to have the opportunity.

      So the best thing to do was forget about any libidinous side trips. This was a field study; no fraternizing with the natives.

      “Just to warn you,” Jessica said, standing and putting her phone back in her purse. “My assistant is on her way up. I’ll introduce you, but she won’t need any convincing. Okay?”

      “Right. I’ll be the perfect gentleman.”

      “That’s fine. We’re going to be a while, though, so if you have something else you want to do.”

      “Nope. As long as I’m not in the way.”

      She headed for the bar and got herself a soda, loading up her glass with ice. “I don’t think you will be, but please don’t take offense if I ask you to take a walk or something. This is all new to me, too.”

      “No problem.”

      She sipped some soda, then got a tan leather briefcase from the bedroom before she settled once more on the white chair. A moment later, she was taking notes, and had forgotten him.

      He watched her for a long time as she worked. He liked her hands, the way they were so small, but so definite in their every move. Her nails, while polished a nearly flesh-colored pink, were short and serviceable.