The Personal Touch. Lori Borrill
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could finish the sentence. “She needs to hear it from you.” Then she gave him a reassuring smile. “Besides, I know you can do it. You’re a kind, gentle man, David. You’ll find the right way to talk to her about this and everything will be fine.”
That is, everything will be fine between David and Gail. Getting to the bottom of David’s intimacy issues in general would be a little touchier.
Though Margot had a bachelor’s degree in counseling and psychology, she wasn’t trained to handle the deeper emotional issues she sometimes ran into in her line of work. Usually, once she suspected there was more going on with a client than the need to learn some social skills or find the right companion, she referred them to one of the many trained professionals she had on file.
And after this date with Gale, Margot debated whether David was one of those candidates.
“You’re right,” he said. “I can talk to her. And I will. But…” he bit his lip. “Where does that leave us? I mean, I’m really looking for a soul mate, and Gail isn’t it.”
Nor was any other woman, if Margot’s suspicions were correct. And they usually were. With David, it had taken her a couple dates to figure out that he might be struggling with his sexuality. And now, after his date with Gail, she was sure of it. She only hesitated wondering whether or not he was ready to face the truth.
She pursed her lips and studied him, looking for some kind of sign that might tell her how he’d react to the suggestion he might be gay. There was such an innocence about him, an almost boyish sweetness that had her caring more for his feelings than for their business relationship. She didn’t want to throw reality in his face if he wasn’t prepared to consider it.
“You know, actually,” he finally said, “some guys I know are going down to Cabo for a long weekend. They’ve asked me to go along.”
“What kind of guys?” The question slipped from her lips before she could consider the insinuation in it.
“A guy I know from work and a few of his friends.”
She waited for him to elaborate, and when he didn’t, she simply said, “Sounds like fun.”
He nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, it will be. And I was thinking maybe we’d put off any more dates until after I get back from this trip.”
A sense of relief eased the tension in Margot’s shoulders. Maybe David was ready to explore the truth.
“I think that’s a great idea.”
He looked as though he was about to say something else, but then he rose to his feet instead. “I’ll call Gail tonight.”
Margot stood with him. “I know you two will be fine,” she assured him. In truth, she’d already spoken with Gail and the two women had come to the same conclusion. He’d make a great friend, but when it came to life partners, he was probably drafting from the wrong team.
She followed him out to the reception area of the office she shared with her partner, Alan Immendorf. She and Alan together owned Intimates, a full-service relationship counseling center for men and women who’ve had trouble finding that special person. Most of the time, their clients were people who, because of their careers or other obligations, didn’t have the time to go searching the usual places for a date. Many didn’t know where to go or how to approach the opposite sex. And then others needed deeper help in understanding themselves and getting real about the type of person they were looking for—David being an extreme example.
And though it was the latter group she usually had the most trouble with, they could also be the most rewarding. The ones she truly felt would have spent the bulk of their lives frustrated and confused if it weren’t for the help she provided.
Margot had been a romantic her whole life. Couple that with a keen instinct when it came to people and she’d found quick success in her choice of profession. And when she paired up with Alan, her gay business partner who handled many of their clients with alternative lifestyles, the two had come together to create what was becoming one of the more notable firms in their field.
“So you’ll call me when you get back from Cabo,” she said as she led David through the reception area toward the front door. “I think the trip will be good for you. I’m looking forward to hearing how it went.”
He smiled. “I will.” And when he walked out onto the street, she knew for certain the man who came back would be changed.
“When are you going to hand him over?”
She jumped at Alan’s voice behind her. “What were you doing, lurking behind the palms? You scared the daylights out of me.”
“I heard your voices and came to see how it went. Were you and Gail right?”
“I’m guessing if he returns as a client, it will be as one of yours instead of mine.”
She told Alan about her meeting with David and his upcoming trip to Cabo San Lucas, and when she was done, Alan regarded her with a cocky grin. “I told you he wasn’t just metrosexual.”
“Oh, stop acting like you’ve got a sixth sense. Your gaydar didn’t go off any sooner than mine did.”
“No, but I’ll be happy to steal your client if he still needs our services.”
“I’m thinking he won’t, but if I’m wrong, he’s all yours.”
Alan laughed and handed her a note. “This call came into the main line during your appointment. Some guy named Clint Hilton. Carmen referred him to you.”
“That’s her boss. Did he say what he wanted?”
“Your services, apparently.”
Margot stared at the paper in her hand. Though she’d never met Carmen’s boss, she’d heard plenty about him and found it highly implausible he’d need a dating counselor. From what she understood, the man had no problem finding women.
“I can’t see why. He doesn’t fit the profile.”
“Well, you’re about to find out. He’ll be here any minute.”
“What?”
“He had another appointment in the neighborhood and wanted to drop by afterward. I told him you were in but I couldn’t guarantee you’d be available.” When Alan noted the quizzical look in her eye, he added, “You can hide out in your office if you want me to get rid of him.”
“No, I don’t mind talking with him. I’m just caught a little off guard, is all. I would have liked to have talked with Carmen first to see what this is about.”
“So go call her. If he shows up, I’ll have him wait. My next appointment isn’t for a while.”
“Maybe I will.”
But before she could duck into her office, she heard the front door open.
Margot had never seen Clint Hilton before, but based on the stories she’d heard from Carmen, she knew with all certainty the tall, drop-dead sexy man approaching them was him.
He strolled in with the casual ease of a man accustomed to dominating the space around him. Relaxed and calm, as though he could find common ground with a mechanic or a millionaire banker alike. His shoulders were broad and his hands worn. He wasn’t simply the paper-pushing end of the contracting business he owned, and the sun-kissed highlights in his dirty blond hair didn’t come from a bottle.
He was the genuine article. A West L.A. version of the Marlboro Man, if such a thing existed.
A dark pair of Armanis covered his eyes and his brown leather Oxfords were unmistakably Santoni. Along with the stainless steel Rolex, business-casual slacks and tailored dress shirt, she guessed he was wearing a fortune worth more than her car. Yet there was nothing stuffy or presumptuous about his appearance. He wore the ensemble as though he’d thrown it on the same way the rest of the world slipped into a pair of sweats and sneakers.