He had a killer smile. One that could make your heart skip a beat and, the next thing you knew, you were ready to drop to your knees, willing to do whatever he pleased. Of course, that wasn’t the only icing on the cake. The man was tall, well built, and looked as if he was the incarnation of the Greek god Apollo swathed in a black Versace sport suit. He looked neither young nor old. Perhaps he was in his late thirties or early forties—a true eye-candy man women drooled over and secretly fantasised about when they made love to their husbands or boyfriends. And, as if he had cast a spell over her, his smile alone made Chelsea forget her line for a second. “Hello, are you waiting for someone?” he asked. Chelsea scrutinised him closer. He must be her rented date. But she thought he was slightly different from his snapshot she’d seen at Margo’s office. This man had the same height. Same build. Same hair colour. Chelsea still wasn’t sure about it. She felt there was something missing and couldn’t quite put her finger on what.
