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  Typical of his father to dangle the carrot and then expect him to walk towards it, tail wagging between his legs. For the longest moment, there was silence. His father took another sip of his bourbon.

  Tyler held fast onto his bottle. “Who’s fighting for this one?” He could imagine his brothers like two hungry dogs with one dried up bone thrown among the dirt. Just thinking about it sent his stomach into knots.

  “No one’s fighting. That’s not how we roll.” His father picked up his glass, sloshed the bourbon around, waited before taking a sip. “Josh would come out first, head it up. You could join too—he’d teach you the ropes.”

  Tyler pictured that little scenario playing out. This was why the old man had taken a detour here. Tyler had a feeling it would be something related to the business. Something that his father might want from him.

  It was always about wants when it came to his father. But this time, Tyler couldn’t dismiss the idea. He wasn’t in a great position himself and his father wasn’t so wrong about his earlier comment. He was still playing around with his camera and no amount of sending out his details and agreeing to do work for free had so far resulted in anything concrete. The hours spent learning Photoshop, practicing at home with lighting, contacting managers of bands and boxing clubs, showing them his roster shots, telling them he’d work for free—none of this had gotten him anything consistently. Sure, people used his images, now and then. But it was slow going.

  Maybe it was time to go all out, get a website, business cards, create a proper portfolio, maybe even go on a few professional courses. But he knew he’d learnt most of what he needed just by doing. Nothing seemed to be working out.

  But Ethan had managed it. And Zoe, too, had taken huge risks, and look how things were starting to work out for her.

  “Josh wouldn’t have it for long. He doesn’t want to move out here. It’d be yours, if you are interested in taking over.” His father clearly didn’t want to talk about anything but business.

  Just the idea of working for his oldest brother left Tyler in dread. He and Josh had never been particularly close; he was closer to Teddy. Working with or for Teddy would have been more palatable.

  “What is it about joining the family business that you find so unappealing?” His father raised his voice, then remembered where he was.

  “Where do I start?” Tyler appeared unperturbed.

  His father looked up sharply. “I was married and with a family by the time I was your age. And look at you. What have you got going for you?” It always went this way, each time the two of them met.

  Tyler couldn’t find a thing to say back to him. His father carried on. “Have you got a girlfriend? A decent job? A reliable income? A position of authority?”

  Tyler had none of these. And he understood in that moment that what he hated more than anything, more than the way his father liked his control, more than the way he trod all over his mother, more than the way he dictated how his businesses were run—more than anything, Tyler hated that his father was right.

  “You always take my advice in a bad way. It’s never meant in a bad way, son. If you’re passionate about your photography, why don’t you go and do something with it instead of just talking about it? My father wasn’t around to look out for me. I had to pave my own way—”

  Tyler jerked his head up, wanting to jump in, but his father raised his hand to silence him. “Let me have my say.” His father placed his hand down. “I get that you want to find your own way too—I get that you think your brothers are lazy and content to sit back and have me give them ready-made businesses they can run. But let me ask you this—do you have any idea how hard they work? That Josh can easily do fifteen-hour days if needed? And before you turn your nose up at that —he loves the business. He’s as passionate about that as you are with your photography. Don’t knock him just because he likes to work hard. Don’t mock what you don’t know.”

  Tyler didn’t have anything to say. He knew his dad had had a hard upbringing, with no one else to look out for him. He didn’t like to think he was being an ungrateful little shit by turning his nose up at the opportunities his father had given him. But the man had been so engrossed in his work he’d hardly spent much time with his family.

  “I’ll think about it.”

  His father looked surprised. Tyler surprised himself. He’d usually always said a definite no.

  “That’s…that’s…good.” Even his father was taken aback. “Where are you working now?”

  Tyler groaned inwardly. He’d always been vague about his job choices. And he’d never told his family about his escort work. “At an upscale men’s designer shop.” Even though he hadn’t yet joined, or agreed to.

  His father harrumphed. “Care to grab some lunch?” he suggested.

  “Sure,” Tyler replied.

  And he wondered how long they could last over lunch, before his father started digging at him again.

  Chapter 19

  Zoe was having second thoughts.

  It might have been her idea, but she felt out of her depth surrounded by tall mannequins with hollow souls and plastic smiles. She was going to be up against these?

  She didn’t really want to meet a guy. She’d only said it to Tyler as a joke. Signing up for this had seemed like a good idea when she was drunk.

  She looked around furtively as single women swarmed all over. Tanned beauties with blond bouffant hair mixed with dark-haired beauties sporting sultry diva-esque pouts. They all looked airbrushed to perfection.

  And they all had bodies most men would gladly worship at.

  A tall woman, whom Zoe assumed to be the hostess, greeted them at the door. Donned from head to toe in a black trouser suit that accentuated the shine on her rich brown, big curly hair, this woman fixed her eyes and attention on Tyler the moment she saw him. Zoe was forgotten.

  Watching the woman flirt with Tyler, which was surely not allowed, as she was the hostess, Zoe decided that the hostess would make a perfect shampoo model.

  Still ignored, as Tyler and the hostess made small talk, Zoe glanced around and swallowed. Against her better judgment she’d worn a short dress.

  Normally Zoe didn’t do dresses. Jeans and Tshirts were her thing. Unless she was waitressing in her frilly apron and silly hat.

  She cursed under her breath, lamenting that she had instigated this whole sorry mess. Yet unlike her, Tyler seemed the epitome of cool confidence when he’d met her just outside the door as they had agreed. Looking the way he did with his height and dark looks, he wore cool confidence as though it were an aftershave.

  His late night booty call the other night had told her to not even go anywhere near the guy. He was, just as she’d intuitively known, someone to keep away from.

  Even that night at Rocco’s when she’d been drawn to him, somehow caught up in his attraction, she’d been this close to kissing him. She’d thought he felt that way too.

  How wrong she had it. When he pulled away, she knew she should have known better. A guy like that was trouble.

  A guy like that wasn’t interested in girls like her; he wanted girls like these.

  Women around her cut glances at him, and the hostess was still laying claim to him, so much so that a line had started to bottleneck behind him.

  Other people had come in pairs, too. Lots of girls, plucking up the courage with another girlfriend in tow, their arms interlaced together. A couple of mixed couples, like her and Tyler she imagined, good friends, wanting to meet someone.

  Except that she didn’t really want to meet anyone. Why had she come here? Too much to drink that night at Rocco’s, that’s why.

  She would have preferred it if the event had been held at Rocco’s—she already missed its dark, stinky coziness and its overflowing tables with the smell of beer and blanket of low laughter and noise. She eyed the interior of the Sugar Hut Club; the crowd reflected the decor—shiny, glitzy, brand new and fake.

  “You look nervous.” Tyler brushed his
hand past hers and she saw that the shiny haired hostess had moved on to greeting the next arrivals.

  She and Tyler were ushered towards the large room at the back.

  “And you look as if you’ve been thoroughly checked out.” She nodded behind her.

  “Would you like a makeover?” Another hostess with beautiful teeth placed her hand on Zoe’s arm.

  No, I freaking well would not.

  “What I really need is a drink.” Zoe smiled back through gritted teeth, while Tyler navigated her towards the bar.

  “What’ll you have?” he asked her.

  “Vodka and lemonade, please.”

  He shortly turned around with a bottle of beer in one hand and her vodka in the other. She grabbed it as if it were a lifeline.

  “They’re offering makeovers to all the girls,” said Tyler, and she felt sure he was trying to make her feel better. He looked over to the corner where, indeed, girls were offered little makeovers. No wonder everyone looked so damned Photoshopped.

  “You don’t need a makeover. You’re perfect just as you are.” He was being gracious, she decided, and noticed that his gaze ran up and down her length. She tried to smooth her dress down and wished she’d not listened to Becca.

  Ordinarily she never sought Becca’s advice about clothes or shoes, or took it when it was offered. So why she had done so today made her even madder now that she felt so uncomfortable in her short, clingy outfit—a warm chocolate-colored woolen dress with a low cross-tie effect at the front. She’d decided to leave it untied, suggesting a touch of sexiness, but the way Tyler was looking at her made her think that she’d overdone it a bit.

  He’d looked so shocked when she’d tapped him on his shoulder outside as he waited for her—he’d even remained speechless for a few seconds.

  Or maybe he was busy trying to impress the gaggle of girls also waiting a short distance away. They all seemed to notice him.

  She thought about rushing to the rest room and pulling down her leotard of a dress. She felt like a Hugh Hefner bunny girl at a G8 Summit, even though most around her wore similar attire. She just didn’t feel comfortable dressed like this.

  In a final moment of madness she’d worn her high-heeled boots which made her feel taller than usual and just about keep up with all the other women. The boots only made the dress seem ever shorter and she felt naked, as if the clingy dress revealed each and every contour of her body.

  Never in all her life had she ever felt so out of place as she did now. The only thing right about walking in here was that she was with Tyler. And even then, she knew he was just a crutch for her. For him, she was probably cramping his style.

  A girl passing by pouted at him and said a flirty “Hi.”

  Zoe anxiously pulled at the hem of her dress.

  “Careful, you’ll spill your drink.” Tyler steadied her and straightened out her hand where her glass tilted dangerously. She looked up and caught his gaze skim down her top…which she noticed really did need to be tied up properly.

  She straightened up and imitated an air of nonchalance that she didn’t really possess.

  “You should wear dresses more often.”

  Zoe blushed and looked at him weakly. No amount of words was ever going to make her feel great, not here with all these beautiful people parading around.

  Tyler looked like he belonged here. She wasn’t blind to the stares he had been getting the whole time. Wearing a dark pair of trousers and a dark shirt, with a blazer, he looked like the Dark Knight—without the bat cape and mask.

  Another tall brunette, all smoky eyes and pale lips, brushed past him and smiled. He returned the smile.

  Zoe looked away.

  Around them now the two groups, girls and guys, mingled happily and the noise level went up. Drinks were being downed and the confidence was brewing. The scene around her looked like a scene from a glossy magazine and she felt like a wannabe assistant helping out.

  Another hostess headed their way and handed over what looked like a numbered label, a scorecard, and a pen.

  Shiny Haired Hostess made an announcement, appealed for quiet, and requested that the women sit at the tables marked as the same number they’d been given. She went on to tell them that they would remain seated and only the men, all sixteen of them, would move around from table to table. They had seven minutes to talk to a girl.

  Tyler gave her a wink and a wry grin as they were herded out to their tables.

  It was only when she sat down at her table marked thirteen that she saw the five choices on her scorecard ranged from “Not a hope in hell” to “Could be maybe.”

  She might meet someone in this cattle market, but she wasn’t holding her breath for it.

  Chapter 20

  He wouldn’t have come, had Zoe not insisted.

  Tyler looked at the toothy blonde and dipped his head, smiling every now and then so she’d think he was lapping up her every word. He’d only come because Zoe had been so convinced it would be a fun night. And because it meant a night away, out of the apartment—with her.

  When the buzzer sounded again, he mumbled something about not enough time and made yet another switch. When he glanced across to Zoe, he saw a big, good-looking brawny guy sit down at her table.

  Tyler felt a stiffness in his jaw.

  He could barely focus his attention on the new girl in front of him, and when the buzzer rang again, he shrugged his shoulders at her hopelessly. He’d let her do the talking and she’d not discovered anything about him.

  The buzzer sounded again and he made his way to table number eleven. Before he sat down he looked over at Zoe again. She was only one table away. That was something to look forward to. He wanted to leave—the frenetic pace of mindless chatter from one hottie to the next, their faces an ever-changing kaleidoscope of makeup and neatly groomed features, made his head spin.

  He found himself vacantly nodding and smiling at the woman whose table he had just arrived at. Like the others she was pretty, and pretty boring too. Telling him all about herself—she worked at the Mac make-up counter and her best friend had dared her to come to this event because she’d told her she’d be meeting the hottest guys around. She warbled on and on and just like after table one, Tyler relaxed, knowing that these women didn’t want to know anything about him, they wanted to tell him everything about themselves. And he was content to let her warble on for the entire seven minutes.

  He waited, knowing it would come. “Oh no! It’s your turn.” She giggled like a happy hyena and he patiently smiled back. Ah, there it was. When the buzzer sounded again, he almost sprang towards Zoe’s table. He darted up, ready to move, already feeling like a cheap game show contestant. “Call me,” Twelve whispered, pressing a slip of paper with a number into his hand.

  By the time he reached Zoe’s table, she looked flushed, that shorter layer of hair, the one that framed her face, fell over her shoulder again, the way it always did.

  “Meet Mr. Right?” he asked. Her face was tinged with pink. It was hot in here, and she’d probably been good, knowing her, listening patiently and allowing the guys to talk first.

  “I met plenty of Mr. Not A Hope In Hells.”

  So, he hadn’t been the only one. There was consolation in the fact that Zoe had found it as painful as he had. Those two hours that he would never get back were not totally wasted.

  He looked at her wanting to smile; they’d both found it sucked. She was definitely a higher level of cuteness taken to a diva level tonight. She had no idea just how hot she looked—he no longer minded flat-chested and thin anymore.

  “Did you meet anyone you like?” she asked him.

  You.

  When he didn’t answer, she asked, “Anyone you’d want to take home?”

  You.

  He gave her an exaggerated cryptic look and wished they had double the time. The thought of staying put when the buzzer signaled the next switch, suddenly appealed.

  Instead he said, “Not a hope in hell.”


  Zoe piped up, obviously not believing him. “In a room full of such beautiful people you found no one?” The melodrama in her voice made him grin.

  “I’m not as shallow as you seem to think. There has to be more.”

  “What more could you possibly want? What more is there?” She exaggerated her voice further.

  “You can’t be serious about finding love here,” said Tyler quietly.

  “Who’s looking for love? I’d settle for a night of fun.”

  He looked at her carefully. She didn’t mean that.

  She must have seen his shocked look because she rolled back her head and hooted with laughter. “Of course I don’t mean that.”

  “Are you looking for love?” He grabbed the chance for serious conversation.

  “No—um—noooo.” A flicker of pain crossed her face. “You don’t look for love—it just happens, doesn’t it?”

  Was she thinking about Ethan, he wondered?

  “Does it? I don’t know,” he said.

  She bit her lip, gazed across at him, hesitantly.

  “I like to believe it can happen like that, when you least expect it.”

  The buzzer sounded and Tyler ignored it, wanting to sit and talk to her for longer. They had a connection, as thin and as cerebral and as tenuous as it was, he felt they were starting to connect.

  She gave him an odd look when he didn’t move.

  “Hey, buddy. I think it’s time to move.” A tall lanky guy tapped him on the shoulder. Tyler had been slow to get up, but when the guy tapped him, he sat back in his chair on purpose.

  “Hugh?” Zoe exclaimed, obviously recognizing the stranger to his side.

  “Zoe?”

  She let out a nervous laugh. “Oh my goodness, what’re you doing here?”

  And that was when Tyler got up and walked over to Fourteen.

  Chapter 21

  She saw Tyler waiting over by the corner, his stare hard like granite.

  When the buzzer had sounded for the last time, the hostess had taken everyone’s scorecards and asked them all to mix. Another group of party hosts cleared away the tables as the guys and women, having already met, now mingled with ease.