“But you are in the tabloids, often, with several different women.”
Kyle pulled out a cutting board and began chopping a tomato. “It’s my brand.”
“Your what?”
“My brand. Hunt Club deals in fantasy. We create an environment exclusive to people who want to feel in control of their pleasure. The thrill of the hunt. They are the predators, and their prey is more than willing. Men and women want to live vicariously through someone like me, someone with a new girlfriend, or two or three, every other week. Every aspect of the Hunt Club franchise is built around human desires. They can’t get what we offer in the real world. It doesn’t exist.”
“Pleasure doesn’t exist?”
“No. We don’t sell pleasure per se. We sell pride. Powerful people want to feel powerful, like kings and queens of the jungle here. Hence the lion logo. They make the rules. They’re in control. They lead the hunt. Even in matters of the heart.”
She snorted. “So your brand is all about stroking the egos of the rich. Making them feel in control of everything.” She sighed. “There are some things no one can control.”Like attraction,she thought.
“Like I said, we deal in fantasy, not reality.” He drifted to a cabinet at the far side of the kitchen and rummaged inside.
“Wine or scotch?” he asked. He glanced over his shoulder. “Or are you a teetotaler?”
“Scotch,” she said, her wolf growling slightly from within.
He beamed at her over his shoulder. “I knew it. A woman who kisses like you had to drink scotch.”
Cheeks warming, Laina rounded the island and selected a knife from the block. She began slicing the onion on the counter while he poured the scotch. “So, about those pictures. Your brand, as you call it… It’s not real?”
He sipped the amber liquid, its color only a shade darker than his eyes, and gave her a condescending look. “I’m not a virgin if that’s what you’re asking.” He raised an eyebrow. “I’ve had girlfriends. Some aspects of my public life are real. But most of the women you see in the magazines or online are actresses or models.” He took a deep breath through his nose and stepped in close beside her, handing her the other scotch. With his shoulder brushing hers, he said through a smile, “I am a one-woman-at-a-time kind of guy, and I prefer to be all the man my woman needs.”
She paused with the knife halfway through the onion and gulped.
“Careful,” he said. “Your thumb.”
Glancing down, she noticed she was dangerously close to cutting herself. “Thanks,” she murmured, reaching for her scotch and thinking he was more than enough man for most women.
He grabbed the eggs and started cracking them into a glass bowl. “Recently, I haven’t had time for anyone, to be honest.”
“No? Been flying solo, have you?” She managed to make the wordsflying solosound lascivious.
He rolled his eyes like she was a precocious eighth grader. “You know, you’re sworn to secrecy about this. You could ruin me, spreading rumors I’m monogamous.”
She grinned. “Your secret’s safe with me. A secret for a secret.”
He ignited a burner on the Viking range and positioned a frying pan over the flames. “That should be enough.” He lifted the cutting board of chopped onions from the island and retrieved a bag of spinach and some feta from the fridge.
“Gerty says you have employees living on-site.”
“At every location we own.”
“How many locations are there?”
“Five others. Jackson Hole, Lake Christina, Pine Ridge, Dunes Island, Fern Gulch.”
Kyle poured the egg into the pan and adjusted the heat.
“And you have private residences at each of them? I mean, for yourself and for the employees.”
“It’s easier that way. We choose remote areas to develop. Land is less expensive, but the talent we need usually comes from New York or LA. Offering them an apartment while they’re here sweetens the deal.”
“And you have a chef who cooks them dinner but not you?”
He smiled at her as he sprinkled the filling ingredients into the egg. “Oh, Chef offered. I sent him home. I wanted you to myself.” The wink he tagged on sent her heart skittering.
