Paul Rheingold was a very nice-looking man. Cody tried to keep the thought “What a waste!” out of his head and failed. He couldn’t help it: sitting across from him at the intimate table at the Whale Wins with two nice glasses of cabernet sauvignon before them and a shared plate, half-eaten, of the restaurant’s award-winning steak tartare between them, Cody thought he could fall in love with this guy.
It wasn’t just that Paul was good-looking. He was that, in spades, but not in the otherworldly, almost plastic way Diesel Hunter was. Paul was a man with a full red beard, twinkling pale green eyes that his forest green shirt brought out even more, a stocky but muscular build, and a smile that could melt candles into puddles. His laugh was easy and infectious. Cody had a fetish for his large,
