Chapter 3

Jordan returned it with his sexy grin. “Of course.”

Ian joined the line for the buffet while Jordan lagged behind, chatting with people he clearly knew.

“Ian, go ahead. I’ll find wherever you sit.”

Ian filled his plate and picked a table off to the side that had eight chairs. He’d just set his napkin in his lap when an older, big-bellied man with furry eyebrows approached.

“Hi, okay if I sit here?” He sat, slid his chair closer, and stared into Ian’s eyes.

Nervousness stirred within Ian’s gut.

The man reeked of excessive cologne. “I’m George Prestin, from Los Angeles.” He shot his hand forward.

Ian dropped his fork to shake hands. “Hello, sir. I’m Ian Roberts from San Jose.”

“You’re young to be at one of these conventions. How old are you?” He leaned closer, enhancing Ian’s concern.

“I’m twenty-three. I was selected to come here.”

“Great. Are you alone?”