The Gatekeeper. Heather Graham

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      Antechamber? Interesting word for a business office.

      He smiled. “Of course.”

      He was loath to leave the entry. He could almost feel the hot gold-and-emerald gaze of the woman behind the glass.

      Not to mention her contempt.

      He forced himself not to look back, though it was difficult.

      But he followed the buxom blonde. She led him into an elegant office. Her desk—which still held the obligatory computer and phone—was carved ebony with handsome ivory insets. Her office chair was upholstered in a deep burnished crimson, like the massive chairs that sat across from it. Marble statuary graced the edges of the room, and a plate-glass window looked out over the sunbaked brilliance of the Vegas Strip.

      “So...” she said, sitting down and folding her long-fingered, exquisitely manicured hands, and smiled. “What is your wildest dream, sir? How may we entertain you? Do you dream of angels or demons? Or perhaps something in between—a dance of innocents and vixens together? Is your dream girl slim or curved or...?” She lifted her hands, the fabric of her suit jacket stretching across her breasts. “We seek to entertain, sir. Our performances are among the most talented in the country. But we cannot entertain you unless we know what it is you seek.”

      He leaned forward and met her eyes, then gave her a charming smile. “Candy,” he said.

      She paled slightly. “We have Asian beauties who can twist and turn in ways that you’ve never imagined. We have Russian acrobats who sail across a room as gracefully as the last great ships that rode the oceans’ breezes. African women whose movements can rival the rhythm of any heart. Irish lasses who can dance their way into the bloodstream.”

      “Candy,” he repeated.

      His hostess sat back, perplexed. She pursed her perfect cherry-red lips.

      “Candy—despite the name of our establishment—has not been with us long. She is a rare and exotic talent, so rare that her contract here allows her to choose when to entertain privately.”

      He nodded. “Candy.”

      The woman sighed.

      He tapped his platinum card on the table as if in thought. “Perhaps you would see if the young woman might be willing to give me just a few minutes of her time.”