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said.
    Hillary reached out to adjust his tie, then let her palm slide down his chest. “No pleasure?” she asked, giving him a look that left no doubt what she meant. “You always have time for that.”
    Moira began to fidget inside. Steven and Hillary both belonged on the glossy pages of an expensive magazine for upscale jewelry or some sleek car advertisement. She tried to pull away again, but Steven wrapped his arm around her shoulders.
    “We were just on our way out,” he said. “Nice to see you again, Hillary.” Without delay, he pulled Moira along with him.
    “I can find my way out, Steven,” she said, seeing Hillary didn’t like being abandoned, her face twisting into an expression Moira could only describe as blatant jealousy.
    “I’m sure you can, Moira, but maybe I don’t want you to.”

    * * * *

    When they reached the front door, the valet saw him and quickly walked toward them. “Mr. Porter, can I get you a car?”
    “Thanks, I’d like you to see this lovely woman gets to the—” He paused. “Where are you staying?”
    “The Morocco.”
    His insides turned over with her deep green eyes gazing up at him. He lost his train of thought and then blinked. “The Morocco,” he said to the valet, unwilling to break eye contact.
    Gentle waves of brown hair swirled around her cheeks. The drunken jackass had been right. She certainly tipped the scales of beautiful. Golden highlights shot through her dark bangs and circled her face. His heart began to beat faster. Kindness, that’s what she was—kindness. She looked like she was in her thirties, but she spoke with confidence even though he sensed her nervousness. She had to be older.
    She eyed him suspiciously. “Am I going to embarrass myself not knowing who you are? Because that has to be the fourth person who called you by name, including Hillary.”
    His jaw tightened a little. “I come here from time to time.”
    “Uh-huh.” She raised one brow. “Truth,” she said quietly, “is one of the most important virtues of mankind. Did you know that, Mr. Porter?”
    He knew instinctively no one could pull the wool over this woman’s eyes, ever. “I’ll pick you up around eight,” he said. His hands rose to gently touch her bare arms. “I’m glad you decided to sit down at my table this evening, Moira.” He felt a slight quiver run through her.
    “I forgot—” She tucked a curl of hair behind her ear. “To thank you again for intervening earlier, I don’t think anyone has done that for me before.”
    “You’re more than welcome.” The tone in his voice dropped, even he could hear the desire in it. “I’ll see you in a few hours,” he said.
    He wasn’t going to see her for six hours, he calculated quickly. He wanted to kiss her. What would she do? She wasn’t like other women. He knew that already. He wavered with a small inkling of guilt, but he had no reason to feel guilty. He had met her by accident, and what he did for a living would just confuse things if he told her. He didn’t want that right now. It would come out in time, at the right time. He gazed into her eyes, realizing how much he really wanted to see her again. He actually didn’t want her to leave at all.
    Most women would have looked at him with hunger and lust in their eyes, giving him a clear message, like Hillary, but Moira didn’t. She tried to hide the fact that she was nervous, and she was adorable.
    He had no illusions about his looks and what they got him in life, but he also had a mind for business and harsh contract negotiating skills. He owned what he did because of hard work and integrity. His looks had only carried him to a point, more so when he was younger. Now at forty-five, he’d built his reputation with strong business ethics. The fact that he could get any woman he wanted between the sheets was a perk. At least he used to think so.
    “Mr. Porter, your car is here,” the valet interrupted.
    “You’re sure you want to come with a bunch of