My Fair Brady

by K. C. Wells

  A weekend away from New York. A party. What was there not to like about that?

  Jordan shoved aside his indecision. “Yes, I’ll come. I’ll let you know if I’m bringing a guest or if it’ll be just me.”

  “Don’t worry if you’re coming alone. I’m pretty sure you won’t stay that way for long.” Drake chuckled. “In fact, I’d put money on it.”

  That did it. There was no way Jordan was about to let Drake fix him up, not again. He’d already been down that road in college, and to say it had been an unmitigated disaster was something of an understatement.

  “You know what? I’m pretty certain I’ll be bringing a guest, so don’t make any plans on my account, okay?”

  “If you say so. I’ll let you get back to work. See you on the nineteenth!” Drake disconnected the call.

  Jordan rested the handset in its cradle, staring off into the distance. Damn. That left him eight days. Thank God Clive was always up for a party. He was a godsend when it came to attending functions and social gatherings. And it wasn’t as if they hadn’t done this on several occasions already.

  It had started out as a mercy mission. Jordan had attended a couple of parties and had been hit on more than once by women who wouldn’t take no for an answer. Jordan had mentioned it to Clive in one of their regular phone chats, but it had been Clive’s wife, Lorraine, who’d come up with the solution. She’d suggested Jordan “borrow” Clive for the evening, and Clive had jumped at the chance to go to some swanky party and play Jordan’s boyfriend. Jordan didn’t give a rat’s ass about people knowing he was gay, not if it saved him from unwanted advances. Better to be on the receiving end of a few unwelcome glances than wandering fingers that pinched his ass.

  It had worked like a charm, and after that, Clive regularly attended such functions, happy to play Jordan’s attentive SO in exchange for a good night out. Lorraine loved the idea too—she got to have weekends with her girl friends, so it was a win-win for everyone concerned.

  Jordan scrolled through his contacts until he found Clive, hoping not to catch him at a busy time.

  After three or four rings, Clive answered. “Hey. It’s been a while. How are you? Still up to your eyeballs in work?”

  “Like you don’t already know the answer to that one. You got a minute?”

  “Sure. What’s up?”

  “I need my boyfriend for a weekend in the Hamptons,” Jordan joked.

  “Ooh, nice. You know I love the swanky parties. Let me check my calendar. When are we talking about?”

  “Actually, it’s pretty short notice. The nineteenth.”

  There was silence for a moment. “Of this month?”

  “Yeah. I’m sorry, I know I should have called you before this, but—”

  “Dude, it wouldn’t have mattered if you’d called me six months ago. I can’t do it.”

  “What?”

  “Lorraine and I are off on a cruise to the Bahamas. All expenses paid. It’s her parents’ ruby wedding anniversary, and the whole family is going.” Another pause. “They’ve been planning this for a year. Sorry.”

  Jordan forced a chuckle. “Look, it’s not like I’m going to ask you to ditch the cruise, okay? I’m sure you’ll all have a wonderful time.”

  “Thanks, Jordan. I’ll send you a postcard. And I’m sure you’ll find someone to take with you.”

  “Sure I will.” After sending his love to Lorraine, Jordan disconnected the call and put his phone down on the desk. Now what? He couldn’t think of a soul to invite along.

  Then he realized he had more pressing problems than a plus-one. The party was eight days away, and he had nothing arranged. No travel arrangements. No car for when he got there. And then there was the packing to consider.

  There was only one thing to do.

  Jordan pressed the intercom. “Brady? Can you step in here, please? Bring your tablet.”

  Less than a minute later, Brady was sitting at Jordan’s desk, his tablet on his lap. “Fire when ready.”

  Jordan cracked a smile. “You know, you’ve loosened up a little since you had the flu.”

  Brady blinked. “I have?”

  Jordan nodded. “Not that I’m complaining, you understand.” He kind of liked it. Maybe visiting Brady and taking care of him had altered their relationship a little, but it was a change for the better, as far as Jordan was concerned. “Now, I need you to make travel arrangements for me for Friday, October nineteenth, returning on the Sunday.”

  Brady nodded, his gaze focused on his tablet as he tapped the virtual keypad. “Yes, sir. Going where?”

  “Traveling to East Hampton, by car. Anytime Friday, because I’ll be taking the day off.”

  “Will you be driving during the weekend? Do you want to keep the chauffeur?”

  “I can drive, so organize a car, please. They can drop me off at the rental place, and I’ll collect it. Also, can you liaise with Donna with regards to the packing?”

  “Will it be a formal weekend?”

  “I don’t think we’re talking tuxedos, but it will be smart casual. It’s a party for a friend’s wedding anniversary.”

  Brady’s fingers flew over the keypad. “Would you like me to arrange flowers and a gift to be sent?”

  “That sounds perfect. For Drake and Belinda Daniels. I’ll email you the address.”

  “One last thing. Are the travel arrangements for just you, or will you be taking a guest?”

  “Unfortunately, I’ll be traveling alone.”

  Brady jerked his head up. “Is there a problem? Can I help?”

  Jordan sighed. “Only if you know someone who wants to spend a weekend in the Hamptons.” When Brady’s brow furrowed, Jordan explained. “My date couldn’t make it.”

  A wistful expression stole over Brady’s face. “I’ve seen the houses there on TV. Sort of a playground for America’s rich and famous, isn’t it?”

  Jordan stared at him as the germ of an idea took hold. I couldn’t. It’s crazy. Then he reasoned he had nothing to lose. “Want to see it for yourself?”

  “Excuse me?”

  “I asked if you wanted to see it for yourself.”

  Brady’s mouth dropped open, snapped shut, then fell open again. “You… you’re serious. Why… why would you ask me?”

  Jordan sighed. “Perhaps I should explain. My date who can’t make it? Isn’t exactly a date. He’s more of an… accessory.” He regarded Brady closely. “I don’t talk about this at work because it has nothing to do with what goes on here, but you’re not stupid. You know I’m gay, right?”

  Brady nodded. “Yes, sir.”

  “Well, let’s just say that I’ve received some… unwelcome advances at gatherings like this, and having a partner with me saves a lot of embarrassment all round. So… if you do decide to come with me, that would be your role.”

  Brady smirked, and the knot of tension in Jordan’s belly dissipated. “Basically, you want me to pretend to be your boyfriend, to keep any unwanted admirers at a distance. Is that it?”

  Jordan snickered. “In a nutshell. So? Will you do it?” He grinned. “Will you do your part to save your boss’s ass? And I am being literal there.”

  Brady laughed at that.

  Then Jordan thought clearly for a second. “Look, please don’t feel you have to say yes just because it’s your boss inviting you. You are perfectly free to refuse. It’s just occurred to me that you might feel a little… uncomfortable in such a situation.”

  Brady’s brow creased into a frown. “Why should it make me uncomfortable?”

  “Well, pretending to be gay might not be everyone’s idea of a fun weekend,” Jordan joked, although his chest tightened. It had taken that thought to make him realize he really didn’t want to put Brady under any pressure to do this. He genuinely liked Brady too much to cause him discomfort.

  Brady stared at him for a moment, then swallowed. “And what if… I didn’t have to pretend?”

  Jordan couldn’t account for the sudden flut
tery feeling in his belly. “Oh.”

  Brady smiled. “Not something I talk about at work either.” Then he gestured to his bow tie, cardigan, and chinos, including the pen protector in the breast pocket of his shirt. “I guess this says geek more than gay, huh?”

  “Actually, now that I think about it?” Jordan chuckled. “Yeah, totally gay. Can’t think why I didn’t spot it sooner.”

  Brady snickered, and the mood lightened a little. He straightened in his chair. “As for the… invitation, my answer is yes. And no, I don’t feel like you’ve pressured me into it. In fact, you’ve been very honest, and I appreciate that.” He flashed Jordan a grin. “And a weekend in the Hamptons? I’d be crazy to turn that down. I may never get the chance again.”

  Jordan laughed. “I haven’t seen Drake’s house yet, so I admit to being curious too. But if you’re sure?”

  Brady nodded. “I’m sure. So I guess I need to make arrangements for two after all.” He gazed earnestly at Jordan. “I won’t let you down, sir. I’ll make sure I don’t embarrass you.” His glance flickered downward and his smile faltered.

  “What is it? What’s wrong?” The change in Brady’s demeanor was so abrupt that Jordan’s scalp prickled.

  Brady sighed. “Maybe you should find someone else.”

  “Why? What’s changed? You were all for it a second ago.”

  Brady bit his lip. “I don’t exactly look the part, do I? I’ve seen photos of you at parties and functions. I’ve seen the people you associate with. I… I wouldn’t fit in there.”

  Jordan gazed at him long and hard. “What’s wrong with the way you look? You’re always smartly dressed. So what if you don’t look like everyone else around here?” He smirked. “Have you seen the way some people dress? I wish they’d take a leaf out of your book, if I’m being totally honest.”

  “Thank you, but we’re not talking about being in the office, are we?” Brady’s earnest expression tugged at him. “The kind of people who go to weekend parties in the Hamptons wouldn’t be caught dead in a cardigan and chinos.” He lowered his head, his gaze focused on his tablet.

  “Brady.” When that got no response, Jordan softened his voice. “Brady. Look at me.”

  Brady raised his head, his eyes large behind those black frames.

  “I like the way you look, okay? And some of the people who frequent these parties may look the part, but they couldn’t hold a candle to you in terms of intellect and personality. Do you understand me?” Jordan smiled. “I like the Brady that’s on the inside. What you’re talking about is what’s on the surface, and there are things we can do about that.”

  Brady blinked. “Such as?”

  Jordan regarded him calmly. “Haircut. Manicure. New clothes.” He grinned as the idea took shape in his mind. “Cinderfella, you shall go to the ball, and once I’ve finished with you, even your own mother wouldn’t recognize you.”

  “What are you talking about?” Brady gaped at him.

  “I’m talking about taking off a couple of days next week so that you and I can go shopping.” Jordan cocked his head to one side. “All those times you made appointments for me to be fitted for a suit? To have a massage? Get a haircut? Well, now it’s your turn, because all those places I usually go to? You’re going there too.”

  “Are you sure I need all that?” Brady looked like a deer in headlights. “My hair’s okay, isn’t it?”

  Jordan chuckled. “Your hair is fine. We’re not talking about anything drastic, just a trim. And what’s not to like about having a spa day?” He narrowed his eyes. “Have you ever had a spa day?” When Brady shook his head, his eyes wide, Jordan chuckled again. “Trust me. It’s all part of the experience. By the time we’re done, you’ll not only look like a million dollars, you’ll feel like it too.”

  “You said new clothes. Do I need new clothes?”

  “We can buy something really smart for the evening of the party. The rest of the weekend should be fairly casual. Don’t worry. You’ll look just fine.”

  “If you say so, sir.”

  Jordan leveled a firm glance at him. “And while we’re on the subject… it may be a good idea to use our little shopping spree as an opportunity to get accustomed to calling me Jordan. I don’t want you calling me sir while we’re there.”

  Brady frowned. “But…. Mr. Daniels… wasn’t he at the conference in Nashville? He saw me. He’ll know I’m your assistant.”

  Jordan shook his head. “Not when you’re wearing a Tom Ford suit that fits you like a glove, and with a new sleek haircut. And so what if he does? It’s none of his business.” He met Brady’s anxious gaze head-on. “Still want to do this?”

  Brady said nothing for a moment, his hands restless on his lap. Then slowly he lifted his chin and looked Jordan in the eye. “Yes, sir—I mean, Jordan.”

  Jordan beamed at him. “That’s my Brady. Okay, you go ahead with the travel arrangements. We can talk about the other arrangements once they’re in place.”

  Brady nodded and got to his feet. “I’ll get right on it.” He left the office, pulling the door shut behind him.

  Jordan stared at the closed door, his mind in a whirl. It still struck him as a crazy idea, but he couldn’t help the ripple of anticipation that trickled through him. He couldn’t wait to see the finished product.

  It was then that the realization hit home.

  He was happy Brady was going with him.

  A second later Brady’s words finally sank in. And he’s gay. Not that it made a difference. So what? It’s not as if I’m going to look at him in a whole new light—am I?

  It surprised Jordan to find out he wasn’t quite sure.

  BRADY sank into his chair and stared blankly at his monitor. A weekend… in the Hamptons. With Jordan.

  It didn’t seem real.

  Then he thought about Jordan’s plans to give him what amounted to a makeover. Brady wasn’t sure how he felt about that part. Always sensitive to his appearance, Brady did his best to blend into the background, and from the sound of it, that wasn’t what Jordan had in mind at all.

  How do I feel about that? Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. Some new clothes, his hair trimmed, a manicure….

  The last thing he wanted was to let Jordan down.

  It was so difficult to clear his thoughts when inside his head was a tangled mess of practicality and emotion, logic and lust. Well, not really lust. If he’d been crushing on Jordan before he’d gone down with the flu, it was ten times worse after. He’d seen another side to his boss, and he’d really liked what he saw.

  The irony of the whole situation…. To pretend to be Jordan’s boyfriend, to act like he was in love with him….

  Brady didn’t think that part of the charade would prove taxing. Not in the slightest.

  Chapter Seven

  BRADY got out of the car and stared up at the building in front of him.

  Jordan spoke with the driver, then joined Brady as the car pulled away. He nudged Brady’s arm. “It’s just a store.”

  Brady gaped at him. “How can you say that? It’s Tom Ford, for God’s sake. He’s up there with Prada, and Jimmy Choo, and Christian Louboutin.” He drew in a deep breath. “I’m sorry. I’m just not used to shopping for a suit on Madison Avenue, I guess. Especially not from a designer who I’ve only read about and seen on TV.”

  Jordan’s hand was at his back, and Brady took some comfort from that. “Listen. We’re going to walk in there, browse through the ready-to-wear suits, and if we’re really lucky, we’ll find something off the rack that fits you perfectly. If not, that’s why we came here first. These guys are geniuses. They’ll rustle you up a suit that will fit you perfectly, and in time for next weekend.” He smiled. “Now… ready to go inside?”

  Brady laid a hand on his arm. “Just one thing. You said it will be smart casual. Do I really need a suit? I mean, couldn’t we go in for something a little more… low-key?”

  Jordan’s smile lit up his face. “I think we can go with tha
t. Let’s look around first, okay?”

  Brady nodded happily. He could deal with that.

  Jordan pushed open the door, and Brady found himself in the menswear department. For a moment he had to stop and stare, because it wasn’t what he’d expected at all. The first thing that caught his attention was an eye-catching fuchsia ribbed sweater.

  “Wow. That’s… bright.”

  Jordan snickered. “I guess I picked the wrong day to leave my shades in the office.”

  Brady wandered over to the glass table full of neatly folded sweaters and stroked the fabric. Then he saw the price tag, and his jaw dropped. “Jordan…. Jordan!”

  “What’s wrong?”

  Brady just stared at him, openmouthed, pointing to the label. “It’s… nearly nine hundred dollars.”

  Jordan grinned. “Relax. You don’t need a nine-hundred-dollar sweater, especially one that could light up a room.” He peered at the sweater. “Well, it is cashmere, after all.”

  Brady snorted. “At that price I’d expect nothing less than gold.”

  Jordan laughed. “Go take a look around. I’m searching for something to wear too.”

  That made Brady feel better. He caught sight of a row of jackets and went to take a closer look. No sooner had he reached it than a young man approached, dressed in black, with beautifully sculpted eyebrows.

  “Looking for something in particular? Can I help?”

  Brady gave him a polite smile. “Thanks, but I’m just going to look around until something grabs my interest.”

  The young man nodded. “I’ll be right over there if you need me.” He glided across the floor to another customer.

  Brady went back to the racks, smiling at a camouflage jacket done in velvet—until he saw its price tag: $4,050. Who would wear a velvet camo jacket? And at that price? Then his smile widened when he saw a mannequin wearing a funnel-neck cardigan in black. That’s more like it. Brady fingered the soft fabric, now recognizing it as cashmere. He gave the price tag a cursory glance, not really surprised at this point to see it was more than $2,000. He was starting to believe they could wrap a half-eaten donut in cashmere and price it at a thousand bucks and someone would buy it.