Coming Soon / Hidden Gems. Jo Leigh
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he was trying to see inside her head, but finally he nodded. “We’ll try it your way. But you don’t tell anyone you’re talking to me, got it? And you don’t hold anything back, even if it’s not good for the hotel.”
She stuck out her hand. “To the best of my ability, you have my word.”
He shook, although the doubt was still in his eyes.
She didn’t really want him to think too much more about their agreement, though. Time to change tactics. “You haven’t been home since last night.”
“No, I haven’t.”
“How come?”
“Part of the job.”
“It must be interesting. What you do.”
The look on his face said it was anything but. “Yeah. It is.”
She sipped her tea, debating for a moment letting it go, but the heck with that. “How long have you hated being a detective?”
Now that got a reaction. Alarm, then what, anger? No, not quite.
“I don’t hate my job.”
“Really,” she said.
“Okay. It’s lost some of its allure.”
“How come?”
His lips pressed together as if to keep his words from slipping out. Mia just waited. Like a good cop, she’d learned a lot over the years about the value of silence.
“The politics,” he said, finally.
She had the feeling he knew exactly what she’d done. That he was throwing her a bone. “What do you mean?”
“Too much paperwork, too much political correctness. It makes it hard to do the real work.”
“I can see that. You must be under terrible scrutiny. Everyone out there with cameras on their cell phones. Everyone ready to sue at the drop of a hat.”
With her commiseration, his defensiveness seemed to mellow. “It was my own fault. I had a romanticized view of what I’d be facing. I was naive to think things would get better when I became a detective.”
“But you solve crimes. You put bad guys away.”
“Not as often as I should.”
“Somehow I doubt it’s your work that’s at fault.”
“Why would you think that?”
“I watched you last night. You were thorough, com manding. You didn’t let anything slide. And here you are. Still at it even though you must be exhausted. Am I right?”
“You make it sound noble. It’s not.”
“That’s a matter of opinion. I’m sure it’s discouraging to jump though all those hoops but I don’t think you hate the heart of the job. It takes a unique individual to face the worst of people day after day, and still want to do the right thing.”
Bax shook his head, almost but not quite dismissing what she’d said. “How did you end up at Hush?”
“Changing the subject, are we?”
“Turnabout’s fair play.”
She grinned. “I wanted the job very badly. Hush is a unique hotel, with unique demands. I was lucky to be chosen.”
“Okay, I have to ask,” he said. “What’s the business about the sex?”
She grinned shyly. “Hush is simply an adult hotel that caters to consenting, discriminating couples.”
“Yeah, I saw that in the brochure. But I still don’t get it.”
“It’s about pleasure, Detective. Unapologetic and sophisticated. Visual, tactile, in fact all the senses are catered to. There’s something for everyone from the massages at the spa to the unbelievable room service—”
“Yeah, about that. I’ve heard that a guest can order more than dinner.”
“They can have massage or beauty services. Even their pets can have room service.”
He wondered if she was being coy or naive. It was hard to tell with her. Damn, though, he wished she hadn’t changed from the black tux. Not that she didn’t look good in her red T-shirt and jeans, but the T was snug and Maxwell’s was chilly.
Of course he was a moron for bringing up this topic. Just hearing her talk about catering to all the senses had made him uncomfortable. Bringing it back to business would help. “Those massage services wouldn’t include special bonuses, would they?”
“Oh, you’re talking about prostitution. No, that’s not at all what Hush is about. Did you know that each room comes with an armoire stocked with sex toys?”
Okay, so Mia wasn’t quite as innocent as her image would suggest. Shit. An armoire stocked with sex toys? He’d like to see those. See her. Touch— Damn it. “How does that work?” he asked, hoping she hadn’t noticed his voice crack.
She unsuccessfully hid a snicker. “That would depend on the guest.”
She was killing him here. On purpose. Because she could. Because she knew he was getting hard at her matter-of-fact voice, at that wicked smile. He cleared his throat. “No, I mean those kinds of amenities really couldn’t be reused, could they?”
“It depends. Anything that has the possibility of contact with bodily fluids is replaced for each guest. But some of the toys are cleaned and reused. It’s a very strict process with no room for error. You should come down sometime and see the operation. You’d be impressed.”
“I’m sure I would,” he said, desperate to change the subject. Thankfully, dinner arrived and Bax threw himself into eating his pastrami on rye. It wasn’t quite as effective as a cold shower, but as long as Mia didn’t talk about sex toys any more, he should be okay.
“A lot of people come to Hush expecting something lurid or tacky, but no one has ever left with that impression. It’s hard, though, because the press is so myopic. Sex sells. The sleazier the better. And when you combine that with Piper Devon’s reputation, which, I must say is totally distorted, then you get tabloid accounts full of insinuation and exaggeration. It’s a shame.”
Think of the sandwich. Not the sex. “But you keep getting the clientele you’re really after.”
“Mostly due to Piper and word of mouth.”
“It doesn’t hurt that the place is incredibly expensive.”
“Our guests are of the belief that you get what you pay for. The higher the price, the more valued the service.”
“Damn, you’re good at this stuff.”
“What stuff?”
He ignored the question as he finished the first half of his sandwich. He was finally settling down, getting some control. But he had to steer the conversation away from the goddamn sex. “Let me ask you something. You’ve clearly had to deal with the paparazzi since you started working there. Do you make deals with them? Give them exclusives in return for favors?”
“Sometimes. Always to the benefit of the hotel, though, and there are lots of paps who aren’t ever considered for special favors.”
“Like Gerry Geiger?”
She shook her head. “Geiger wasn’t always this bad. We used to use him on occasion, but only because he played by the rules.”
“Why do you think he changed?”
“I don’t know. I figured it was about money. It always seems to be about that, though.”
Bax made a mental note to dig deeper into Geiger’s financial situation, although he knew Grunwald was already on top of it. What Bax wondered was if there were