by Tara Lain
Audrey Romign sidled up next to him. She sipped champagne. “Now that’s what I’d call a cutie.”
“What? Where?”
She gave him a sideways look. “Oh, right. You weren’t just ogling the adorable one who keeps checking his phone. I certainly was.”
He laughed. “I think we’re going to work well together.”
Her leer morphed into a full smile. “I agree. I knew from seeing your buildings that I had to find a way to afford you.”
“I hope it won’t be hard.”
Her dimples dipped. “We do well, and claiming a Lord and Kendrick building is a delightful indulgence. We mostly give our money away to help women around the world.”
“So I’ve heard. I’d like to reflect that in the building.”
“Wonderful. Women’s causes are our passion. I can’t wait to see what you come up with.”
“I can’t either.” He grinned, and she chuckled. Across the space, Ian Carney laughed at something Max said, and Braden’s belly flipped.
“I really think that’s another project you should take on.”
“What?”
She grinned and flicked her eyes toward Ian.
“Oh, no way.” He glanced at the Scotch, made a face, and set it on the sideboard. “No. As architecture goes, that’s an ice castle. Fresh, new, and short-lived.” He snagged a glass of champagne from a waiter and took a drink. “Or maybe like a champagne bubble. It tickles your nose and makes you smile—before it’s gone.”
“Your philosophy is unconvincing.”
“He’s only seven years older than my son.”
“While that’s a startling fact, if he was female no one would notice.”
“But he’s not.”
“Thank God.”
He snorted a little champagne up his nose. “Audrey, I’d design your building for free.”
“Ooooh, say that into my lapel mic.”
Doug Kendrick slipped an arm around her shoulders. “Is he giving away the store again?”
She gave the big silver fox a look and he quietly moved his arm. Braden swallowed his smile with another sip of champagne. She nodded. “Yep. Your profits are down the drain, baby. And I’ve got it all written in champagne.” She clasped a warm hand on Braden’s arm. “Why don’t you go work on that other project we talked about while I discuss contracts with Doug?”
“To avoid discussing contracts, I’d rebuild the Taj Mahal with a putty knife. Audrey, can’t wait to work with you.” She leaned over and kissed his cheek, which got a quick frown from Doug. Ha, there’s an upside to being gay. “See you later.”
He walked away but glanced back, and Audrey gave him a wink. Okay, so he wasn’t really going to work on the other project, but there couldn’t be any harm in just observing it—to make the client happy.
Chapter Two
Ian glanced at his phone. No reply. Come on, baby, how long does a text take? He sipped champagne. Champagne. How cool was that? His brother’s partner might be well paid, but he and Jim still didn’t serve bubbly much.
The firm’s new client, Audrey Romign, stood across from him in a circle of people who all outranked him by a lot. She’d been telling Max, who stood next to Ian, more about her firm, which apparently had revolutionized information technology for women all over the world. They must be damned successful if they could afford Lord and Kendrick. She was attractive, smiley, razor-sharp, and he liked her on sight.
Suddenly her brown eyes flicked to his face. “So, Ian, what would you do with my building if you were designing it?”
Ian swallowed hard. Had she really asked him that?
Shirin, the head of design, got wide eyes and started to say something to get him off the hook.
Ian let the words fall out. “I’d incorporate a combination of open space and privacy, to give people different opportunities to be creative. They’d have a place to introspect and spots to collaborate.”
She smiled. “Interesting. What else?”
His eyes flicked to Max, but he found a smile there too. “Lots of texture and color, with art and crafts from the many countries your firm serves. Imagine high walls with rugs and weavings and all the great handmade stuff women make.” His hands waved. “There should be lots of volume in the building, with many light sources, punctuated with lower-ceilinged, cozy spaces to create a comfortable sense of place.” He took a breath. Holy shit, what am I doing? “Sorry. Didn’t mean to preach to the choir.”
Audrey’s look was friendly but appraising. “Quite the contrary. You’ve beautifully captured the qualities I’d like to have in our headquarters.”
Max patted Ian. “Ian reminds me of Braden. We’re lucky to have him.”
She nodded. “I can see that.”
Jesus, I just went to architecture heaven.
The conversation turned to other topics, and the man from Reading Foods started holding forth on his project—not nearly as interesting. Champagne kept flowing and Ian accepted another glass. Quietly, he pulled his phone from his pocket and glanced at the screen. Nada.
Max slapped his shoulder. “Everything okay, Carney?”
“Uh, yes. Thanks.” He steadied his glass to keep from spilling, looked up as Braden Lord stepped next to him, and proceeded to slosh champagne all over Lord’s elegant, European leather shoes. “Oh God, I’m so sorry.”
Max slapped him again. Maybe a couple too many drinky poos there. “My fault. Totally my fault. Braden has more shoes, right, Bray?”
“Yes, not a problem.” Braden smiled at Ian. Up close, that face looked a little less pretty but even more interesting, with crinkles around his eyes like from laughter—and pain. “Need more champagne?”
“Oh, I guess I better not. It seems like I can’t handle it.”
“Something else, then?” Lord looked in his eyes.
Whoa, what an offer. Get your mind out of your boxer briefs, idiot. “No thanks. I guess I should go soon.”
Max leaned toward him. “How’s your boyfriend’s father?”
“Uh, I don’t know.” Did he sound as pathetic as he felt? “I mean, the cell service isn’t great.”
“Oh, I heard it had gotten so much better the last couple years.”
“I guess not.”
Lord put a hand on his shoulder. “No, I’ve had cell problems in Mexico. It can be spotty. Probably worse if you’re in a hospital.”
As the heat from Braden’s hand seeped through his cheap sports coat, Ian half wanted to cry and half wanted to kiss Braden Lord. Right, Rico was in a hospital. He couldn’t use the phone. Shit, why hadn’t he thought of that? “Thank you.”
“For what?” Lord smiled softly. He knows what.
“Reminding me that I should leave him a message he can read when he goes home. Thanks again. I better go. I have school tomorrow.” He shook the hands of the two clients he’d been chatting with. “I hope to see you again. You’re in great hands with Lord and Kendrick.” He turned. “Max, I’ll see you Monday.” He turned back to Braden but looked at his feet. “Sorry again. I hope I didn’t stain your shoes.”
“Nothing to worry about.”
Look up, dummy. He plastered on a smile and met Braden’s deep sea-blue eyes. “Thanks again for inviting me. Honored.” You can drown in the sea.
“Glad you could come.” Lord’s face looked friendly, sympathetic, and—what? Disappointed?
Shit. Give me one chance to impress, and I’ll spill something every time. Holy fuckhole, how does a guy get that gorgeous? “Night.”
Max said, “Don’t you need a ride?”
“Nah, thanks. The office is close and my car’s there.” He waved and practically ran to the door of Antonio’s. Outside, the nightly drop in temperature slapped his face. Had he been flirting with the boss? Hell, the boss’s boss? Nah. Just shitting on his shoes.
Braden watched Ian hurry from the restaurant like his tail was on fire. What an endearing combination of assured and awkward in that sexy, lean body. Probably just his age
. Hell, who was really self-confident at twenty-one?
A slim hand grasped his arm, and he turned to see Audrey following his line of vision. She grinned. “Contemplating following?”
Was he? “No. Not at all.”
She sipped. “Your intern there had some brilliant thoughts on my building.”
His belly gave a little leap. “No shit?”
“He did a great job of capturing some of the exact feelings I want my building to have. You should ask him.”
Braden looked into his glass. “Max tells me he’s quite talented.”
“And quite adorable. I think you should follow him.”
“No, sadly, even if I wasn’t fifteen years older—and his boss—he’s got a boyfriend and I’ve got a divorce. Lousy timing.”
“None of it seems insurmountable—except maybe the boyfriend thing, if he’s serious.”
“Seems to be. The guy’s in Mexico, I gather, looking after a sick father. Ian seems really concerned.” Of course, he’d batted those big green eyes at Braden a few times, but that was probably just gay-man stuff. Not that he’d know. He shrugged. “And my divorce isn’t a trivial issue. I’ve got kids.”
“Ouch. How many?”
“Two.”
“I don’t mean to be sarcastic or nosy, so tell me to fuck off if you want to, but how the hell did that happen?”
He blew out breath in a long stream. “In short form, the first one was an accident in an effort to prove to myself that I wasn’t gay, and the second was an attempt to prove the first one wasn’t an accident. Which all sounds really cynical, but in fact, they’re fantastic kids and I love them more than life.”
“But you don’t love their mother.” It wasn’t a question.
“No, and sadly, I never did. I’m ashamed to have subjected my children to such a crappy situation, but I wouldn’t trade them for some idealistic gay lifestyle.”
“And courts tend to give custody to mothers no matter what they say.”
“Right, although technically they’re not allowed to. But I want joint custody at minimum, so I can’t give her or the court any reasons to choose otherwise.”
“Reasons like adorable, postadolescent boy toys?”
His sigh was silent this time. “Exactly.”
A half hour later, Ian pulled the old Toyota Jim and Ken had bought him into the driveway of their home in south Laguna. Their home. Funny how attached he was to living with his brother. After his dad had thrown him out four years before, when he’d discovered Ian was gay, Jim had been Ian’s solid place. It probably seemed like the other way around to a lot of people. Jim had certainly had his shaky moments before he settled down with Ken, but Jim took Ian in, no questions asked, the minute he showed up on his doorstep—Ian and his dumb cat. Smart cat, actually.
When Jim and Ken moved in together, Ian had thought he’d have to make his own way, but no. Jim presented them as a package deal, and Ken bought the whole thing—even the cat. Hell, Ken even made it possible for Ian to go to school. Yes, the drive to SC was killer, but Ian didn’t want to move to LA. This was home—until he and Rico made their home together.
One more time, he glanced at the phone, then sighed and piled out of the car. He keyed his way into the door of the lovely midcentury modern house Ken had chosen and Ian and Jim had renovated down to the last nail. Pausing his steps beside the Japanese tansu chest inside the door, he accepted the furry neck warmer that always greeted him, no matter what time he arrived. How Anderson recognized the sound of his car qualified as a feline mystery, but he loved it. Part of that family thing.
“Merwaowr.”
“Hey, guy. How was your day?” He reached up and scratched the white head as he sorted through the mail with his other hand.
“Hey, bro, we’re in here.”
Ian followed the sound of Jim’s voice through the small entry and into the expansive living room with its big picture window, à la 1960s. Jim and Ken sat snuggled on the modern couch, with some old musical with singing cowboys in it on the forty-inch plasma.
Jim leaned back and waved. “You’re late. We saved you some food in the oven.”
Ian smiled. “Guess who I got invited to have drinks with—are you ready?”
“Yeah.”
“You sure?”
Ken paused the movie and joined in the game. “This is going to be big.”
Jim laughed. “I’m dyin’ here.”
“I went to Antonio’s with my boss, Max, three brand-new clients, and—Doug Kendrick and—ta-da, Braden Lord! You know, like in Lord and Kendrick?”
Jim raised an eyebrow. “Holy shit. Isn’t that kind of rarified air for an intern—not that you aren’t the best intern on the planet?”
“Totally.” Anderson purred in his ear with appropriate enthusiasm. “But I did some parking calculations they really needed.” He shrugged. “Plus, I think he felt kind of bad for me getting stood up by Rico.”
Ken’s beautiful dark eyes narrowed. “What do you mean, stood up? Didn’t you get him at the airport? I figured that was why you were late.”
Ian bit his lip. “No. He texted. I guess his dad has taken a turn for the worse. He can’t come back—uh, yet.”
Jim bounded off the couch and came over to gather Ian—and by default, Anderson—in his arms. The cat squalled and leaped to the ground. “Hey, I’m so sorry. I know how much you were looking forward to his coming home.”
“Yeah. But I can’t be pissy when his dad’s so sick.”
“True. So go get changed, I’ll warm up your dinner, and you can come tell us all about your exciting evening.”
Man, great to have family. “Thanks, bro. I’ll be right back.”
Anderson padded after him and jumped on his bedspread while he changed. After he pulled on some sweats, he plopped next to the cat and grabbed his phone from his jeans pocket.
Thinking of you. Hoping your dad is getting better. Sure miss you. Sending love and lots of kisses.
Braden Lord’s deep eyes flashed in his mind. He’d been so kind, reassuring Ian. Reminding him about no phones in hospitals. Man, he could still feel that warm hand on his arm—a detail he would not be sharing with Rico. But come on, it’d been three weeks. Twenty-one-year-old hormones didn’t discriminate.
He hopped off the bed, scooped up Anderson, who totally let him, and followed his nose to the warm food on a tray waiting for him in the living room. Jim and Ken had turned off the TV and sat sipping wine and giving him total attention as he dug into meatloaf, broccoli, and mashed potatoes. “Just what I needed. Comfort food.”
“Compliments of Trader Joe’s.” Jim gave him a little salute with his glass. “So what’s up in Mexico City? What did Rico say about his dad?”
“Uh, nothing. I mean, just a text saying he was worse. But you know, he can’t use the phone in a hospital.”
“Yeah. I suppose. But he could go outside.”
Ian chewed and tried to submerge his thoughts in buttery mashed potatoes. He looked up to see Ken flashing a frown at Jim.
Ken swirled the wine in his glass. “So what was the evening at Antonio’s like?”
“Great. I even drank some champagne. Well, a couple of sips before I spilled it all over Braden Lord’s shoes.” He scooped up another mouthful. Hadn’t realized how hungry he was. When he glanced up, Jim was staring at him.
“Are you sure this was a great evening? Not the worst night of your life?” He laughed.
“Yeah, I was a total klutz. But Braden was really great about it. Max kind of slapped my shoulder, so he took the blame.”
Ken gave him a little cock of the head. “Not like you to be clumsy, baby. You’re usually so calm and cool.”
“Uh, you haven’t seen Braden Lord.” Ian’s mouth tugged up on the corners.
“Ah, now we’re getting to the bottom of the ‘great’ part of the evening.” Jim rocked back on the sofa. “Don’t stop now.”
“Aren’t you two supposed to be planning a wedding?” He shoved t
he last of the meatloaf in his mouth.
“We already planned, and we want to hear about nummy Braden Lord.” Ken leered.
Ian forced himself to eat the greens, heavily dosed with mashed potatoes in each bite. “Well, I’ve seen him before, of course, but never quite so up close and personal. Man, what a hunk. There are even rumors he’s gay.”
“Oh yes.” Ken nodded. “The word on the street is he’s fighting a nasty divorce after coming out.”
“No shit?” Being a respected cardiologist, Ken traveled in the same upper-crust circles as Lord. He’d know. “He really has looked stressed lately. Nice guy, though. I was all weirded out because Rico didn’t call me, and Braden reminded me the cell service could be spotty, and Rico couldn’t use his phone while he was with his dad. I mean, maybe Rico’s sleeping in his dad’s room, you know?”
“Was that before or after you wrecked Lord’s shoes?” Jim chortled, but Ken gazed at Ian with those dark eyes.
“After. He really was nice.”
“So Ken and I are going to his folks’ over the weekend to put some last-minute stipulations in his mom’s insane wedding plans. Want to come?”
Ian hid his sigh. “No, I’ve got some studying to do. Plus, the weather’s so nice, I think I’ll go down to the beach and hang for a while. Give your mom my best, though.”
Ken grinned. “You’re just worried she’ll try to marry you off too.”
“She’s good at that.” Though they’d been holding her off for three years with excuses about growing their businesses, Mrs. Tanaka had finally cornered Ken and Jim into planning a wedding, and nothing could be too lavish for her. The last he’d heard, she’d invited more than three hundred guests.