My Fair Brady

by K. C. Wells

  “Brady, it’s Jordan.”

  Brady stared at the gray plastic intercom box. Really? So it hadn’t been just talk after all.

  The door buzzed again, and Brady realized Jordan was still waiting down on the street. “Letting you in.” He held down the door release button, waiting until he’d given Jordan enough time to get inside, then glanced down at his attire. Shit. There wasn’t enough time to get some clothes on before Jordan would be—

  There was a rap on his door.

  Chuckling, Brady opened it. “You could have used the code, you know.”

  “I didn’t want to surprise you.”

  It was then that Brady was hit by a delicious aroma. “Oh my God, that smells awesome.”

  Jordan held up a bag. “I hope you don’t mind. I thought I’d eat here with you.”

  Brady stared. “Red Rooster? What made you go there? Not that I’m complaining—I love eating there.”

  “I asked the chauffeur if he could recommend any decent places for takeout around here. It turns out he was brought up in Harlem. Red Rooster was the first place he suggested.”

  Brady couldn’t stop smiling. “Do I smell… fried chicken?” His stomach grumbled, and Brady’s face heated up. “Sorry about that. Guess it’s been a while since I ate.”

  That earned him a hard stare. “What did I say about taking care of yourself?”

  “Aw, please. Don’t give me a hard time.” Brady gave him a hopefully appealing glance. “I’m sick, remember?”

  Jordan laughed. “Not too sick to try puppy-dog eyes, I see. Well, I suppose sick PAs get to have fried chicken, mac and greens, and honey biscuits.”

  It took every ounce of Brady’s willpower not to drool.

  Jordan gazed at his robe, and Brady coughed. “Let me put something on while you put out the food, okay? I just took a shower.”

  Jordan narrowed his gaze. “Was that wise?”

  Brady rolled his eyes. “Trust me, I smelled so bad, even the cockroaches fled.” He walked carefully across the floor to his bedroom. “I can feel you watching me, you know,” he called out without turning. “I can get around my own apartment.”

  “Glad to hear it. That means you’re feeling better, right?”

  Brady couldn’t miss the hopeful note in Jordan’s voice. He paused at his bedroom door. “I’ll be back at work before you know it, and then you’ll be wondering why you ever tried to hurry me back there, when I’m complaining about the mess you let things get into while I was gone.”

  As he closed the door, he caught Jordan’s muttered, “Who says they’re a mess?”

  Brady laughed silently. He knew better.

  By the time he left his bedroom, Jordan had plated up the meal, and the aroma filled the small apartment. Jordan was shaking his head. “I thought mac and greens sounded healthy.”

  Brady snickered. “It has braised collards and bok choy. They’re green.”

  “Yeah, right, and the rest. There’s cheddar in here, gruyère, parmesan, and… is that bacon and cream too?” Jordan gave him another hard stare. “And you were giving me a hard time over my diet?”

  Brady laughed. “I said I love the food. I don’t eat there all that often, however.” He gave Jordan a warm smile. “This is… wonderful. Thank you.” And this was the best he’d felt all day.

  Jordan waited until he was seated on the couch before passing him his plate. “You look brighter. Better than last night, at any rate.”

  “I was a good boy today. I drank plenty of juice, I took my Theraflu religiously, and I ate a couple of pieces of fruit, plus some of the pasta.” Brady sighed. “But I have to be honest. I still feel really weak.”

  “You will,” Jordan said, nodding. “Like I said, the flu knocks you on your ass. And I’m not trying to hurry you back into work. Jordan Wolf Accounting had been in business for ten years before you came to work for me. I’m pretty sure it can survive another week or so of your absence.” His dark eyes gleamed with amusement.

  Brady didn’t answer. He was too busy taking a mouthful of delicious fried chicken. Then Jordan’s words registered. “Another week or so?”

  Jordan nodded again. “You take as long as you need to, okay?” Then he smiled, and it lit up his handsome face. “Just as long as you know… I’m going to be so happy when you walk into the office.”

  He wouldn’t be the only one. Brady loved his job, and that was mostly due to his gorgeous boss. It didn’t matter that Jordan would never look at him in the way Brady longed for—Brady would make do with just being around him.

  He’d save the other thoughts for his fantasies.

  Chapter Five

  WHEN it got to midday on Saturday and Jordan hadn’t showed, Brady figured he’d had enough playing nurse. After all, it was the weekend, and surely Jordan had better things to do with his time than get in a cab and come to Harlem. So when his intercom buzzed and Jordan’s voice came out of the speaker, Brady was momentarily stunned.

  He held down the button. “Oh. Hi.”

  Jordan’s chuckle greeted his ears. “You sound surprised. Didn’t I say to expect me?”

  Well, yeah, but…. Brady pushed the intercom button again. “Come on up.” He held the door release button for a few seconds, thankful he was dressed this time. When he opened the door, Jordan stood there, and Brady had to hold on to the doorframe. Jordan—in jeans? Not to mention a pale blue shirt, open at the collar, with a dark blue jacket and heavy, dark brown boots.

  Lord, he was beautiful. And he was holding—a picnic basket.

  Brady couldn’t help smiling. “Are we going… on a picnic?” Not that he could see that working out. He was feeling a little better, sure, but a picnic?

  “We are,” Jordan confirmed. “Now put on a jacket and some footwear.”

  “Jordan, I don’t know about this. I mean, where are we going?”

  Jordan grinned. “The roof.”

  Brady blinked. “Wait—how do you know about the roof?” There was a communal roof garden on top of his building, with a couple of benches, pots with flowers, and even a tree. Someone—possibly Phil—was growing tomatoes up there too. He’d had a couple during the summer, and they were delicious. Brady loved going up there. It was a regular little sun trap. He’d even managed to sneak in an hour or two of sunning himself on a towel on the weekends.

  “When I was leaving last night, I ran into the building superintendent, who told me about it.”

  “He just… told you? Just like that?” It didn’t sound like Mr. Okoru. He was an older guy who usually kept to himself.

  “When he found out what I was doing here, he said a little fresh air would do you a world of good, and he showed me the roof garden. Then I got to thinking…. Today looked fair, weatherwise, so I put together something for us to eat up there.” Jordan smiled. “It turns out he has a grandson your age. He was concerned because he hadn’t seen you in the hallway like he usually does.”

  “Aw.” That was nice. Brady tried to peek into the basket, but Jordan kept the lid closed. “So what are we eating?”

  “Nothing if you don’t put on that jacket like I told you.”

  Brady smirked. “Are you always this bossy?”

  Jordan’s eyes sparkled. “Only if I think I can get away with it. Now move it—please.”

  Brady laughed, grabbing his jacket from the hook behind the door. “Fine, I’m moving.” Inside, he was buzzing. Jordan sure was going to a lot of trouble on his account. Then he cautioned himself not to make too big a deal out of it. He’s just looking out for me because he wants me back. That’s it. Period. This was no fairy tale, where the gorgeous boss ended up falling in love with the lowly secretary. For one thing, secretaries were usually, but not always, women—strike one—and for another, life just didn’t work out like that, as much as Brady might want it to—strike two.

  Brady slipped into his jacket, grabbed his keys, then paused. “Is there anything I need to bring?”

  “Only you,” Jordan said. “I’ve
got everything we could need in here.” He patted the lid of the basket.

  Brady nodded, then stepped into his sneakers and out into the hallway, Jordan following him. Brady closed and locked the door.

  Jordan cleared his throat. “Now, there are two flights of stairs to—” When Brady chuckled, Jordan rolled his eyes. “Yes, I know you know that, but I’m just pointing out that you have to take it slow. You haven’t taken a step outside your apartment for over a week.” He narrowed his gaze. “You’re silently saying, ‘Shut up, Jordan, and quit being a mother hen,’ aren’t you?”

  Brady bit his lip. “The thought never crossed my mind.” Jordan walked at his side as they went up the stairs, with Brady pausing at intervals to grab the rail. He shook his head. “This is ridiculous. It’s only two flights, for God’s sake!” He was ashamed to appear so weak and feeble.

  “Put your arm around my shoulders,” Jordan instructed him. Brady stared at him, and Jordan rolled his eyes. “It’s the longest walk you’ve taken for over a week, and you’re not out of the woods yet. You’re going to have to take things easy for a while longer, all right? Now, put your arm around me, and lean on me if you have to.”

  Brady chuckled. “If I don’t lean on you, chances are I’ll fall over.”

  When they finally reached the door at the top of the stairs, Brady heaved a sigh of relief. He handed Jordan the key to unlock it, and Jordan held the door open for him. The fresh air that hit his face was a welcome assault, and Brady drew in a deep breath.

  “Wow. So this is what clean air smells like.”

  Jordan led him to the bench, and Brady sank down onto it thankfully, leaning back against the wooden slats. Jordan sat beside him, with the basket on the ground. “This is a lovely spot.”

  Brady nodded, pointing to the large, heavy pot that contained a slender birch tree. “I love it when the bark peels like paper, revealing a gorgeous pinky color underneath.” He sighed. “It’ll start losing its leaves soon.” There was definitely an autumnal nip in the air.

  Jordan opened the basket and withdrew a flask and two mugs. “I thought hot coffee would be appropriate.” He twisted off the cap, and the aroma filled Brady’s nostrils. “And speaking of coffee… I got a bit of a shock when Celia brought me a cup.”

  Brady stifled a chuckle. “Oh God. Did she give you the brew from the staff room? Man, that shit is… well, shit, pardon my French. I suppose there’s no accounting for taste.”

  Jordan groaned. “Accounting? Was that deliberate? And what taste? This is serious. I haven’t had a decent cup of coffee in the office the whole time you’ve been off sick.”

  Brady knew it was wrong, but he couldn’t help laughing. Fortunately, Jordan saw the funny side too. “Okay. Third drawer of my filing cabinet, that’s where I keep your coffee. I’ve been buying that brand ever since I tasted the cra—stuff everyone else drinks. And I stash my coffee machine in my cabinet in the office. I’m not letting it get anywhere near the ones in the staff room. We could be talking contamination here.” He shook his head. “No coffee since then? How on earth have you survived? Man, you must have been crankier than a barrel of monkeys.”

  “I thought the saying was ‘more fun than a barrelful of monkeys,’” Jordan remarked.

  “Not when you release them,” Brady said darkly. He sipped the aromatic brew and sighed with pleasure. “Thank God. I can taste it. I’ve been off coffee since I got sick.” He peered hopefully at the basket. “What other delights are you hiding in there?”

  Jordan reached in and pulled out something wrapped in white paper. “It’s not much, just a chicken salad wrap from the Whole Foods Market that I passed on the way here. It looks delicious. I bought one for myself too, seeing as we both need to eat healthily.” He handed Brady the sandwich, smirking.

  Brady smiled. “Your doctor would be proud of you.” He sat in the autumn sunshine, a mug of coffee on the bench beside him, a tasty sandwich held in both hands, and a beautiful man for company.

  Days don’t get much better than this.

  They spent about an hour up there, while Jordan related some of the week’s events. By the time he’d finished, Brady was chuckling and shaking his head. “I can’t leave you alone for five minutes, can I? I’d better get well ASAP, because it sounds like you need me.”

  For a moment Jordan was silent, and Brady wondered what he’d said to provoke such a reaction. Then Jordan sighed. “I do. Don’t get me wrong—the company runs just fine without you. But I don’t. When I called you a treasure the other day, I wasn’t being facetious. I may smile at your efficiency, your organization—but that’s precisely what keeps me in check. I didn’t realize until this last week just how much you take out of my hands, all the little details that would otherwise clog up my schedule. And that’s why I am saying—belatedly, but better late than never—thank you.”

  The sincerity in Jordan’s voice made Brady’s throat seize up, and tears pricked his eyes. “You forget. This is what you pay me for, right?” He blinked and straightened. “And if I make your life just that bit easier, then I’m doing my job.” He gestured to the sandwich and the coffee. “This was… awesome. Thank you.” Brady made up his mind. He would do whatever it took to get back to work as soon as he could.

  “You’re welcome. And I meant what I said. Take as long as you need.” Jordan winked. “Now I know where the coffee is.”

  Brady laughed, and it was the best he’d felt for a long time.

  JORDAN got out of the elevator, thankful it was Friday. The week had felt longer than usual, but maybe that was because Brady hadn’t been around. Jordan hadn’t seen him for a few days, but he’d kept in touch by phone. Brady sounded brighter, and that cough seemed to have finally eased off. Jordan had refrained from calling him every time he needed to know where something was or to ask about a particular meeting. Brady needed rest, not hassle.

  He pushed open the doors—and stopped dead.

  Brady stood there, smiling, wearing a pale blue shirt and a dark blue bow tie. He pushed his glasses back onto his nose. “Good morning, sir. The newspapers are on your desk, and here is the most important of your mail. I’ll be right in with your coffee.”

  Delighted though he was, Jordan tempered his relief with concern. “Why are you here? Why not come in on Monday?”

  Brady chuckled. “I figured it was better to come in today, to see if there was anything I could do to make my first week back start on a positive note. Less of a shock to the system that way.” He grinned. “And I had to make sure you weren’t about to run out of coffee.”

  Jordan laughed. “I am capable of buying my own, you know.” He took the pile of envelopes. “Though it is good to have you back.”

  “Good to be back, sir.”

  Jordan walked alongside him as they headed down the hallway to his office. “You’re sure you’re up to this?” As wonderful as it was to see Brady, Jordan didn’t want him coming back to work too early just because he knew how much Jordan relied on him.

  Brady paused at the door. “It’s my turn to take care of you, sir. And to that end… I’ve booked you in at Spiff at five o’clock.”

  Jordan stared at him. “Since when do I ever finish at five on a Friday?”

  “Then let’s make it a new rule. It’s your company, sir. If anyone deserves to finish at a decent hour on a Friday, it’s you.”

  “And the Spiff appointment?” Spiff for Men was Jordan’s go-to place for haircuts, manicures, facials, and massages.

  Brady’s eyes gleamed. “I just thought you might be in need of a massage after the last week or so. Get Shawn to ease all the tension out of you.”

  Jordan shook his head as he entered Brady’s office. “Shawn doesn’t do easing—he just pummels me to death.” But he couldn’t deny it was a great idea. “Thank you, Brady. And I’m sure my back will thank you too—once Shawn has finished with it.” He tilted his head to one side. “You ought to try it, you know. A massage is really relaxing.”

  Brady a
rched his eyebrows. “I’ll take your word for it, sir. And now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ll get you that coffee.”

  Jordan left him and entered his own office, holding on to his sigh of contentment until Brady was out of earshot. He’s back. Sanity was restored to Jordan’s world. Whatever else happened, Jordan would never forget what he’d learned during the past two weeks.

  Brady was worth his weight in gold.

  Then it occurred to him that out of the office, Brady was a lot more relaxed, with a lot more sass. As much as he liked the efficient, polite Brady he saw every day, Jordan liked the other version even more.

  Chapter Six

  October

  JORDAN had just finished his lunch when Brady stuck his head around the door.

  “Sir? You have a call, but I wanted to see if you were done.”

  Jordan wiped his mouth on his napkin. “Who is it?”

  “Drake Daniels. He says it’s important.”

  Damn it. Jordan knew what that was about. “Put him through, Brady.” He picked up the handset and pressed the blinking button on his phone. “Drake. Hey. I’ve been meaning to call you.”

  Drake chuckled. “Sure. I know how busy you are. But Belinda asked me this morning if you had RSVPed yet. I think she wants to know if she needs to save the guest bedroom for you. That’s if you are coming.”

  “Sorry about the delay. I’ve been trying to get hold of Clive, my plus-one, but I haven’t managed to catch him.” Jordan hadn’t actually made the call yet, not that Drake needed to know.

  “So you are coming? Belinda will be so happy.”

  Drake’s delighted tone poured fuel on Jordan’s already guilty conscience. The invitation had been sitting on his coffee table at home for three weeks, and he hadn’t done a thing about it. The party was just over a week away. And it would be good to see Belinda and the kids. He’d hung around with her and Drake a lot in their final year; he’d attended their wedding, stayed with them one New Year’s…. The house in the Hamptons was a recent addition, however, and Jordan was curious to see it.