what?"
"Stalled traffic. Last-minute cancellations. Last-minute additions to the schedule. Illness. Just about anything your imagination can conjure up. Sometimes the schedule is tight and I'm barely allowed travel time. That's why I carry all this stuff with me," she said, tipping her head back to indicate the supplies in the floorboard of the back seat. "I even have a first-aid kit, a sewing box, and Handi Wipes."
"Handi Wipes?"
"I once escorted a TV diva who had a phobia about shaking hands with the general public. She washed after every contact."
"Who?"
She cocked her head and looked at him askance. "Do you want me to divulge your secrets to my other clients?"
"I don't have any secrets." But the mischievous grin he gave her belie d the claim.
"Right," she drawled. "Anyway, the Handi Wipes are also good for wiping TV makeup off dark fabrics."
"No kidding? Huh. You learn something every day."
"I've learned by improvising. It's also my job to see that my clients are given their due just for being who they are, and that they receive—whether they deserve it or not—the red carpet treatment everywhere they go."
"I can attest to that."
She smiled at him. "Then I get a gold star for tonight. You were supposed to feel free of all responsibility except for making your speech."
Because he was enjoying listening to her, he continued asking questions. He learned that her job didn't always end with chauffeuring and orchestrating a news conference.
"Say a client wants some company—I provide it. I've become a very good listener. I take them anyplace they want to go. Restaurant, amusement park, concert, movie theater. One repeat client, an author who goes on a book tour every spring, loves to play pool. It's his way of unwinding and clearing out the cobwebs. We play each time he's in town."
"And I suppose you always let him win."
"The hell I do!"
Chief laughed. "You don't resent doing these little extras?"
"Those ' little extras,' as you call them, keep repeat clients coming back and earn me new ones. Word gets around, especially among authors who routinely tour. Of course, we escorts compare notes on the celebs, too. Who's nice, who's weird, who's a terror."
He considered her in profile. He couldn't have been the only man to notice how attractive she was. Riding next to her all day in the confines of a car could prove to be a temptation to a man who was far from hearth and home. "You must draw the line somewhere. To those little extras, I mean."
"Strip joints or topless bars are a no-no. I won't procure a prostitute, male or female. If that's what they're looking for, they're on their own. Anything having to do with controlled substances is out, of course. And..." She glanced at him. "Let's put it this way: I once escorted an actor who copped a feel during the drive back to his hotel. I stopped the car, shoved him out, and let him find his own way back."
"Repercussions?"
"Who was he going to complain to? His wife is his manager. It was she who booked me. Besides, his monstrous ego would never have permitted him to tell about a rejection."
Chief laughed with her. "Give me a hint."
She hesitated a moment, then said, "An over-the-hill stud." "I can think of fifty. Stage, screen, or TV?"
"Screen."
"That narrows it down. What are his initials?"
She shook her head. "Too easy."
"What'd he cop a feel of?"
She shot him a retiring look.
"Above the waist or below? Just tell me that much." "Chief!"
"Okay, then. I'll just have to give my imagination free rein." She glared at him, but it was still all in fun. "Above." "Hmm. Can't blame a guy for trying."
"I did. I'll go out of my way to meet a client's needs and wishes. Within reason."
"Aw, jeez."
"What?"
"Well, I was going to put in a request." When she was looking at him, he added, "I just hope you consider it within reason."
"Jem!"
"Don't be angry because I didn't call first," he said quickly. "I had to see you, Gillian. Especially after our conversation