My Fair Brady

by K. C. Wells

  Much as Brady really, really liked the idea of spending the night in Jordan’s bed, what scared him to his core was that Jordan might see too much. That he’d somehow see right through Brady’s act, see the desire that lay deep inside him.

  Rain lashed against the window, but the thunder had passed, thankfully. Brady smiled. “I don’t think there’ll be any need for me to be knocking on your door. Your mom gave me a new toothbrush. I’ve got everything I need.”

  But not what he really wanted.

  “I’ll say good night, then.” Yet Jordan didn’t move.

  You need to go, Brady told him silently. Before I do something I might regret.

  Like kiss him. Hold him. Undress him.

  “Good night,” he said softly, not moving from beside the bed.

  Finally Jordan nodded, turned around, and left the room, closing the door quietly behind him.

  Brady sank onto the mattress and put his head in his hands. His heart had never been so conflicted. And he was going to put it through the emotional wringer all over again the following weekend.

  Why did I say yes to this? I must be crazy.

  He hadn’t given a moment’s thought to what life would be like after the party was over. Would things go back to the way they had been?

  Brady had no clue.

  He climbed into the bed, switched off the lamp beside it, pulled the covers over his head, and hid himself from the world.

  Chapter Eleven

  BRADY watched the car until it had turned the corner, then slowly climbed the steps to the front door. He felt kind of… deflated. Jordan had been quiet for the trip home, apart from thanking him for the visit and apologizing that they’d had to spend the night there. Then he was gone.

  Brady glanced up at the sky above. It was hard to believe the previous night had been so turbulent; not a cloud was in sight, as if the storm had washed them all away.

  Once inside the building, he trudged up the stairs to the second floor, just as Phil was coming down from the third.

  “Hey. It’s a real mess up there.” She pointed toward the roof.

  “Why? What’s happened?”

  Phil widened her eyes. “Didn’t you hear it last night?”

  Brady sighed. “What have I missed? I was in Westchester last night.”

  “Then you missed all the drama. We’ve lost the birch. Lightning struck it.” Her face fell. “And it was growing into such a nice shape too.” Phil cocked her head to one side. “Was that your boss who just dropped you off? I was at my window when your car pulled up.”

  “Yeah, that was him.” Brady’s stomach clenched.

  Phil studied him closely. “Hey, are you okay?”

  It was on the tip of his tongue to say everything was fine, but he stopped himself. Maybe talking about it would clear his thoughts. “You got time for a coffee?”

  Phil smiled. “I was just on my way to mail a letter, but that can wait. It won’t get collected until tomorrow anyway. Why don’t you come on up to my place? There’s more than half a pot already brewed.”

  “That sounds good. Let me get rid of my jacket and change into clean clothes. I was wearing these yesterday.” He shrugged. “I didn’t exactly plan on spending the night away.”

  Phil chuckled. “Westchester is beginning to sound intriguing. Come up when you’re ready.” She turned around and headed back upstairs.

  Brady let himself into his apartment, shucked off his jacket, and hurried into his bedroom. He deposited his clothes in the hamper, then pulled on jeans and a sweater. When he got to Phil’s door, it was ajar, but he knocked before entering.

  “Come on in.”

  Phil’s apartment was painted in a warm sunny yellow, and she had a seat below the two windows that looked out onto the street. The first thing Brady noticed was a tabby cat, its eyes closed and paws tucked under its chest.

  “I didn’t know you had a kitty.”

  Phil laughed. “Hardly surprising. He doesn’t leave the apartment. Toeby is definitely not a street kitty. And that’s Toeby spelled T-O-E-B-Y, on account of his extra toes.”

  “Wow.” Brady went over to the cushioned seat and sat next to the cat, who blinked and stretched before immediately climbing into his lap. “Well, hello there, Mr. Polydactyl Kitty.”

  Toeby put his paws on Brady’s chest and rubbed his head under Brady’s chin.

  Phil snorted. “Toeby, you are such an attention whore. You’ll take cuddles from anyone.” She grinned at Brady. “You didn’t intend on moving from that spot for the next three hours, right?” Phil handed him a mug, then sat beside him. Brady stroked Toeby, who had once again curled up into a ball, only this time in his lap. “So, who lives in Westchester?”

  Brady took a sip of coffee before replying. “My boss’s parents.”

  Phil stared at him. “Your boss took you to meet his parents? What the hell? Are you dating your boss, or something?”

  “I wish.” When Phil stayed silent, Brady glanced across at her. She was still staring at him. Brady sighed. “It’s a long story.”

  Phil leaned against the window. “We’ve got time. Besides, you’re not going anywhere for a while, not if Toeby has anything to do with it.”

  She had a point. And sitting drinking coffee, stroking a warm, purring kitty, wasn’t exactly an unpleasant situation to be in. He took another drink, then started his tale at the point where Jordan had first visited the apartment. Phil listened intently, occasionally reaching across to scratch Toeby behind the ears or under his chin.

  When Brady finished, Phil expelled a long breath. “Wow. And here was I, thinking the life of a personal assistant wasn’t all that exciting.” She peered closely at him. “When did you first know?”

  Brady frowned. “Know what?”

  “That you were in love with Jordan.”

  “Whoa. Wait a minute. When did I say that?” Brady gaped at her. “I never said that.”

  She huffed. “You didn’t have to. It’s written all over you.” She smiled. “Now, if it had been me in a blackout with a guy I had the hots for, I would have totally taken the opportunity to sneak in a kiss.”

  “With his parents and sister—not to mention his sister’s boss—about to walk back into the room at any second? Yeah, right.”

  Phil grinned. “What about later? You know, when the thunder roared and the lightning flashed? That would have been the perfect excuse to tap on his bedroom door.” She shrugged. “Still, all is not lost. You have next weekend, right? You can put the moves on him then.”

  “Who says I’m going to put any moves on him?” Brady couldn’t believe what she was saying.

  Phil sighed. “So you’re just gonna go there, act like you’re his BF, then it’s back to work the Monday after like nothing happened?”

  Brady struggled to find the words to make her see the reality of the situation. “Okay, here’s the thing. One, I’m not in love with him. It’s just… a crush, all right? And two, he’s my boss,” he said gently. “I can’t make a move on my boss.”

  “Why not? Bosses have affairs with their secretaries all the time.”

  “But I’m not his secretary. And who says I want an affair?” What he really wanted was something longer-lasting than a roll between the sheets and being taken out to dinner now and then. Brady didn’t want Mr. Right Now—he wanted Mr. Right.

  Phil pursed her lips. “Well, you obviously want something to happen between you. Suppose you do let him know how you feel. What if he feels the same way about you?”

  Brady wanted to tell her that the universe didn’t work like that. “And what if he doesn’t? Suddenly I’m out of a job.”

  “Then let’s talk about this job of yours.” Phil put down her mug and folded her arms across her chest. “Do you want to stay in a job where you have an unrequited crush on your boss? What if… what if he meets someone? How are you gonna feel then?”

  Brady did not want to contemplate that situation, but Phil wasn’t done.

  “Let�
�s go one stage further. How are you gonna feel when he’s asking you to make dinner reservations for him and Mr. BF? Hotel reservations? Hmm? How are you gonna feel, when you know he’s shacked up in some hotel, screwing his boyfriend, and all because you didn’t have the balls to come out and say, ‘Hey, guess what? I really like you’?”

  Something deep in Brady’s belly rolled over, sending a wave of nausea through him.

  “So the way I see it, you have three options. One, you say nothing, just continue the way things are, and hope to God you don’t end up organizing your boss’s love life. Two, you decide that you’re willing to give up your job, because Option One sounds like torture, and you find another. Which wouldn’t be a problem for you. Or… there’s Option Three.”

  “Which is what?”

  Phil gave him a gentle smile. “You take a chance and tell him how you feel.” She leaned forward and patted his knee. “And while we’re on the subject? This sounds like way more than a crush. Maybe you need to think about how badly you want this guy in your life. Because from where I’m sitting?” Her eyes shone. “Sure sounds like love to me.”

  Toeby chose that moment to butt his head under Brady’s chin.

  “See? Toebs agrees with me.”

  Brady let out a soft sigh. “You make it sound so… easy.”

  “I’m sure it isn’t, but when I saw you on the stairs just now, you seemed so miserable, and that’s not right.” She paused for a moment. “Visiting you when you were sick, buying you clothes, taking you to dinner…. Those don’t sound like the actions of someone who doesn’t care about you. Maybe there is something there. But you’ll never know until you take a chance. And next weekend sounds like the perfect opportunity.” She cocked her head again. “How did it feel, pretending to be his boyfriend? Did you get along with his family?”

  Brady had to admit, Jordan’s family was amazing. They’d treated him warmly and made him feel comfortable and welcome. That morning when the time came to leave, Lynne had taken him aside and said she hoped to see him again. Jordan’s dad had shaken his hand and said what a great time they’d had the previous evening. And Fiona had given him a hug, which really took him by surprise.

  “I liked them.” As for the playacting, it had been difficult to remember that it was an act, that they weren’t really a couple. Especially when Jordan had held him in the dark, so close that his breath stirred Brady’s hair, his lips scant inches away from Brady’s….

  Phil was right. He couldn’t go on like this. And waiting to see if Jordan felt the same might take… forever.

  No, if anyone was going to make the first move, it would have to be Brady.

  He scritched Toeby’s ears, and the kitty’s motorboat of a purr vibrated through his lap.

  “Cats are great when it comes to decision-making,” Phil said with a smile. “They sit there, they listen, they take it all in, and they never judge, as long as you’re giving them enough love.”

  “And what makes you think I’ve come to a decision?” Brady asked her.

  Phil’s smile widened. “Have you any idea how easy you are to read?” Her eyes sparkled. “Is Jordan always focused on his work?”

  “Pretty much.”

  She nodded slowly. “That explains it. He can’t see what’s right in front of him. But, get him relaxed and that might change.” Phil chuckled. “Damn, I’d love to be a fly on the wall next weekend.”

  Brady didn’t want to think about that, not when they had a whole week of work ahead of them. Then he remembered. “Aw, hell.”

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Jordan’s booked us into his favorite spa on Thursday afternoon. Haircut, manicure… massage….”

  Phil giggled. “Ooh, I like it. Bare flesh, sauna, everything getting… steamy.”

  Brady glared at her. “That is not helpful.” Not for the first time, the thought of a butt-naked Jordan, his skin glistening with sweat, filtered through Brady’s head, and he squirmed on his seat.

  Phil snorted. “I was trying to show you how far gone you are on him. Seeing your… reaction?” She smirked. “My work here is done.” She got up and went toward the kitchen area.

  Brady wanted to say something, to protest—anything. Instead, he resorted to the only defense he had left. “You’re a bitch, you know that?”

  Her laugh told him, yeah, she knew. And Toeby’s wiseass yawn merely confirmed it.

  Chapter Twelve

  JORDAN had no clue why he was nervous, but as he pushed open the main door to the office, his belly did a little flip-flop at the sight of Brady, standing there with his newspapers.

  “Good morning.” Jordan affected a calm he certainly didn’t feel.

  Brady gave his usual smile. “Good morning. Your coffee is on, and your mail is on your desk.” He handed Jordan the papers.

  They walked in silence, side by side, along the hallway to Brady’s office. Once inside, Jordan’s nostrils were assailed by the aroma of the freshly brewed coffee. “When you bring in the tray, bring a cup for yourself too.”

  “Oh. Certainly, sir.”

  That last word brought home to Jordan what was wrong with the situation. Hearing “sir” on Brady’s lips, after the shopping trip and the visit to his parents’ house, felt all kinds of wrong.

  He walked into his office, deposited the papers on his desk, then hung up his jacket, his stomach still churning. He’d set events in motion that had irrevocably changed their office dynamic, and it was up to him to find a modus operandi that felt more… normal. Because he couldn’t continue like this.

  When Brady entered with the tray, Jordan sat on the couch. “You can pour, then join me here please.”

  Brady nodded. He placed the two large cups on the table in front of them, then sat at Jordan’s side. Neither of them spoke for a moment, and the silence only added to the knot in Jordan’s belly.

  “Brady,” he began, his voice low. “Don’t you think addressing me as ‘sir’ sounds a little… odd, considering the situation?”

  Brady blinked. “The situation is that we’re in the office. Surely that’s how I should address you?”

  “And that doesn’t feel weird? After Friday? Saturday?” Jordan sighed. “Of all the staff in this office, you are the one who works most closely with me.” He gestured to the door. “Everyone out there… they get to call me sir, but not you. Not now.” He peered closely at Brady. “Can you live with that?”

  Brady picked up his cup and took a sip from it. Finally, he nodded. “Sure. You’re right, of course. I didn’t want to overstep any boundaries. That’s all.”

  Jordan smiled, the tension inside him easing a little. “Considering how much of my life you get to see, I think losing the ‘sir’ part is way overdue.” He leaned back. “And now that we’ve got that settled, let’s go through my schedule, okay?”

  Brady drew in a deep breath. When his smile reached his eyes, Jordan was flooded with a sense of relief.

  “Sure… Jordan.” Brady chuckled. “Still sounds a bit strange, but I guess I’ll get used to it.” He got up from the couch. “I’ll go get my tablet.”

  Jordan waited until Brady had left the room before expelling a long breath.

  We’re not out of the woods yet.

  It wasn’t just the way Brady addressed him. It was the way Jordan felt when Brady was near him, like he was suddenly more aware of him than ever before.

  And Jordan had no idea what to do about the way he was feeling.

  BRADY got out of the car and glanced up at the shiny black-granite-and-glass storefront, bearing only three words: Spiff for Men. It certainly seemed like a large place.

  “It’s funny. The number of times I’ve booked you in here, and I had no clue what the place was like.”

  “It’s the kind of place where they have boxes of cigars if their clients want to smoke with their coffee,” Jordan said, joining him. “There’s a roof terrace.”

  Brady shivered. “Not today, I think. It’s too cold.” He peered at Jord
an. “You know I’ve never done anything like this, right?” He wasn’t too sure what to expect.

  Jordan laughed. “Relax. This is my treat. We’ll start with a massage, steaming hot towels, a facial, and then we’ll have a haircut, pedicure, and manicure. Plus a really good, close shave.”

  Brady smiled and stroked his chin. “Do I need that?”

  To his surprise Jordan reached across and rubbed a thumb along his jawline. It was an intimate moment, and Brady had to struggle to repress his shiver of desire. God, what he does to me….

  “Trust me. A hot towel to relax, followed by an old-fashioned straight razor shave? You’ll feel amazing after.” Jordan put his hand to Brady’s back and guided him through the glass door. Once they’d checked in at the reception desk, a young woman led them along a hallway to a darkened room with an adjoining door. A massage table sat in the center of the room, and next to it was a stand where bottles of oil sat, along with candles flickering in glasses. Brady detected the faint aroma of lavender and something else.

  “Gentlemen, you can get undressed through there in the changing room,” she told them. “There are towels for you. Shawn will be in here, and Dominic will be in the other massage room. When they’re done, Shena and I will come in to do your facials.” She left them.

  Brady shook his head. “I’m feeling really pampered right now, and they haven’t even started yet.”

  Jordan chuckled. “Wait until Dominic is kneading your back like it’s a piece of dough.” When Brady stared at him, Jordan laughed. “Okay, I’m lying. It’s nothing like that. The massage is more like a full-body exfoliating treatment. I just made it sound like a visit to a chiropractor.”

  Brady rolled his eyes. “And I believed you.” He followed Jordan into the changing room, where a rail with hangers stood against one wall, and on a cabinet sat a pile of folded white towels. He hesitated for a moment, glancing around the small, neat space.

  Jordan stood very still. “Shy? Just pretend it’s the locker room back in high school.”