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his date.
    He didn’t display the slightest sign of impatience.
    She stopped him before they stepped out the door. “Hold on. Come here.” Without the normal
    six-inch heels she wore during his sessions, he stood nearly a foot taller than her. When he leaned over she unlocked his collar, removed it, and laid it on the entryway table by her front door. “That’s better.”
    He smiled. “Thank you, Tilly.”
    She liked the way her name sounded coming from his mouth. “How far do you live from here?”
    “My condo’s twenty minutes away.”
    “I want to stop by there first, before we go eat.”
    “Okay.”
    She studied him. “No questions?”
    He shrugged. She also liked that gesture from him. Easygoing. “I just figured you wanted to
    make sure I didn’t have any bodies laying around.” She loved his playful smile.
    He could make her laugh, too. Bonus points.
    * * * *
    He still insisted on getting doors for her. More bonus points. He was a gentleman. On the way
    to his condo they talked about music. She was surprised to find out he liked a wide variety of music 
    from classical to heavy metal and they had many favorites in common. He loved to read, did a lot of it.
    He collected Hallmark ornaments.
    That last point surprised her. He nervously ran a hand through his hair. “Yeah, I know. My mom used to buy them, then when she got older, after my dad died, I started buying them for her because I didn’t want her spending the money on them. Then she died and I…”
    He shrugged and glanced at her. “Is that weird?”
    She burst out laughing again. “I’m sorry,” she said when she finally composed herself. “You
    come to me for certain things,” she said, “and you’re asking me if collecting ornaments is weird?”
    He smiled, then he laughed. He had a nice laugh. “Yeah, I guess you’re right. I never thought about it like that.”
    “I not only think it’s not weird, but I think it’s sweet.”
    She watched while he drove, confident, one arm slung over the wheel, not too fast, no sudden stops, no pissing contest jumps from the line at a light.
    Calm.
    His condo lay in a gated golf course community. She knew it was his place because she’d seen his driver’s license when he first started seeing her, had written his address and info down for safety.
    That was when she still felt super-paranoid. Since then, she’d relaxed a lot, weeded odd clients out before she ever took them on.
    “I don’t golf,” he said, “but I liked the landscaping. I also didn’t want to deal with a yard or maintenance. I’m too busy normally.” He led her up to his door, unlocked it, and let her go first.
    Inside, he tossed his keys on a table near the entry and flipped on the lights.
    Nice.
    Not a pig sty, which had been her first worry. Not anally-retentive neat, either. Lived in, clean, tidy. She never had to pay a cleaning company to come in because she had a string of clients who paid her for the privilege of doing it for her. If it wasn’t for that, her house would look about like his. Lived in, but not perfect.
    He picked up a few books and his mail, which lay scattered on the coffee table. “Sorry. Wasn’t expecting company.” He offered her a slightly bashful smile.
    The walls of his den were lined floor to ceiling with books. She found the kitchen clean, a
    rinsed breakfast bowl and coffee mug in the sink. Counters tidy. His bedroom, also neat. Bed made, but 
    not crisp, just the covers pulled up. At least he’d made the attempt.
    She walked into the bathroom. Clean enough. Clothes in a hamper, towel folded and hanging
    from a rod.
    He leaned against the bedroom doorway. “Do I pass inspection?”
    She nodded. “Actually, you do.”
    “I was kidding.”
    “I wasn’t.” She turned to him. “I’ll let you in on another secret very few people know. There’s a reason I haven’t let anyone into my life in the past few years. I was burned in a bad way by someone I trusted. I don’t trust easily