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me," he said, true admiration in his tone. "You handled the situation in an exquisite fashion."
    Exquisite? Now she knew that he was faking it when he pretended to hunt for English words. Oh well, what did it matter? "I handled it. I always do. When I was a kid, Dad was sick and Mom was usually busy with him, so I pretty much just learned to handle things for myself. I wouldn't have it any other way, though."
    "But her statement was true," he said. "About the drink."
    She’d fooled an audience that included some of her closest friends. But not Zaq the male escort. He seemed to see through to her core.
    "Yup. I'm as frigid as they come." Her stomach pitched as she spoke, but she hid it behind her sarcastic tone. "Now, let me talk about my vagina with a male hooker. That really is the capper of this day. Stacia is one cold cookie. I'm so cold that I decided to hire a professional for the job. To get it done. To handle it, same as I do with everything else. Made it into a To Do item, then figured out how I could knock it off my list."
    He spread his hands wide, displaying himself. "And here I am."
    "Here you are. Now you know. Hiring you wasn't about passion or desire. It was about getting the job done so I could move on to the next thing," she pointed out. "You were an item on my checklist. Your turn. What's it like to be a male prostitute in Vegas?"
    "I meet interesting people."
    "And screw them."
    "And screw them." He half-closed those dark eyes. "But sometimes I don't get to screw the most interesting ones."
    She snorted. "You've already got my money. You can save your flattery. If your boss calls, I had three screaming orgasms in a row. We nearly got kicked out of the hotel."
    "How was my oral technique?" he asked, not missing a beat.
    "You should give seminars," she said, with faked enthusiasm. "And your thing ? Wow. There are no words. Just wow."
    He dipped his head in acknowledgement. "My thing thanks you for the compliment."
    A short laugh escaped her, despite her dark mood. She'd always liked guys who could just go along with a silly conversation. She hadn't expected it from him, though.
    "How about you? Must be hard to start out in a new country and find yourself in this position—" She stopped herself, realizing what had just come out of her mouth. "I can't believe I just said hard and position . Everything sounds dirty around you."
    "It is both hard and difficult,” he admitted. “The positions, I don't mind."
    His slight smile sent heat up the back of her neck.
    He really was gorgeous. She'd had her doubts at first, but now she couldn’t see him as anything but a gigolo. It was the perfect job for him. Handsome, built, a great listener. He was seduction on legs. Even though she'd paid for this, and knew it was an act, she'd started to buy into the fantasy. Time to get back in control.
    "Or, I don't know," she prodded, "maybe you love this. Maybe you came here just for this. Maybe you're not allowed to do what you want in your country. Or who you want."
    "I am not gay," he said, through gritted teeth.
    From that kiss, she believed him. But ruffling his feathers evened the score between them, so she pushed. She shrugged. "You said 'people'."
    "Women. Exclusively." His tone of voice left no doubt. "Very, very exclusively. And my country has no laws against homosexuality. I would permit no restrictions on such a thing."
    "Right," she said, with sarcasm. "Because it's your choice."
    He paused then, seeming to adjust something inside himself. Hmm. The politics of his home country were an emotional trigger for him. Maybe he had to leave for political reasons or something. It would be interesting to—
    She stopped that train of thought at the station. No reason to push into the man's psyche. Let him keep his secrets.
    "Truly," he said, and his tone dripped with false sincerity, "it was not my dream to be an escort, though I see a lot of lovely women."
    "See a whole lot of them, I imagine. Ba-dump-bump." She mimed a