Shayde turned at his remark and smiled at his seeming innocence. “Sweet boy. No, I don’t think so. It would probably be best if we meet only at the dinner table. Me with my usual glass of wine and you with…whatever it is you…eat.”
* * * *
The next few days with Grant had been wonderful. Wrapped in an extended proposition, he had introduced Paris to many of New York’s finest nightspots, museums, and art galleries, always adding extensive information on the artists and their periods. He even bought him gifts, clothes, and had been talking about the two of them doing some traveling.
But now as he stood in the shower, he knew the moment was coming when he would have to—break Grant’s heart.