by Jaime Samms
“Easy for you to say. It's my job yer takin', boy.”
“Borrowing.” At least Robbie had enough sensitivity to look uncomfortable under her spitfire fury. “I'm not keepin’ it.” His free hand came up defensively, as if that could protect him from the Wrath of Bethany Ann Callahan.
“No.” Her scowl darkened. “You can bet yer sweet, highly peddled arse yer not! Ye can't do half what the job needs doing, and that pretty face isn't going to help.” This last bit she accompanied with a hard glare right at me.
“Oh, Beth.” Caught between them, my small exclamation went ignored.
Robbie's discomfort vanished and rage rushed into fill the void. His nostrils flared, bright eyes took on a knife-sharp glint, and he slammed the contract back down on the desk. His lips drew into a thin line as he scrawled his name on the dotted line, dropped the pen on the desk and stormed out of the room.
A few seconds after the heavy door slammed, Beth got shakily to her feet. “I didn't mean that, Ian.”
“Don't tell me, Mouse.”
“Oh, bloody hell.” She took a second to sign her own contract before going after him.
I couldn't blame her for being angry at Wentworth's high-handed interference. That did not excuse her taking it out on Robbie, no matter how annoying he could be. I just hoped he'd forgive her.
After a few moments staring at the scattered papers, I settled into my desk with my coffee. Their fight, their problem to figure it out. Unless they asked, it was best I minded my own business. I wanted to read through the legal documents, just to see what Wentworth expected of them, but that, too was none of my business.
They were both plenty smart enough to be careful what they signed, and Wentworth wouldn't screw them over. Probably.
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Chapter Three
Unfortunately, I wasn't in my office when David got there. I did see him go in, though, and half a minute later, Robbie Kelly followed. I should not have panicked but I did. I had visions of David tossing Robbie through a window as soon as Robbie told him about the restructuring. If there was one thing my wonderful David has in common with his father, it's his occasional inability to see past a person's screw-ups, and in his mind, my getting hurt had been entirely Robbie's fault. I hurried after Robbie, hoping to stop him saying anything to David. I wanted to tell him myself. They were already engaged in a stilted conversation when I arrived. Neither of them seemed to notice I'd entered the room, though.
“Hey.” Robbie shoved his hands into his pockets and offered David a limp smile.
David said nothing. I couldn't see his face, but Robbie's smile, such that it was, slipped away. Silence prickled the skin on my arms and the back of my neck.
“So.” David propped a fist on his hip. “Waiting for Ian?”
“No.” Robbie bit his lip, and for a second I felt a twinge of discomfort at David's biting tone, but Robbie merely flipped a hank of blond hair out of his eyes and plopped onto the couch. “So, did he tell ya?”
“Tell me what?” David moved behind the desk to glare out the window, and I could see his profile. A look of suspicion passed over his face. He tried hard to hide it, but it was there, and I pursed my lips.
“About me and—”
“Robbie!” I stepped up and glared at him, and damn it if the little shit didn't look guilty.
“Ian?” David looked exactly like someone had just kicked him in the gut. He sank onto the window seat, his face pale.
“Your father,” I strode over, ignoring my desk to sit on the window seat with him, “is a complete wanker.”
“No shite.” He agreed with me, still with a slight, unsettled cast to his features.
I leaned over and kissed him, wanting it to be possessive and reassuring, but knowing I came off more needy and uncertain by the way he searched my face when he pulled away. I did not want him walking out on me again. We were almost a year into this relationship. I wanted to know he trusted me but had the sinking sensation that when it came to Robbie Kelly, he didn't.
His gaze slid to Robbie, hardened, and before I could figure out what that meant, his hand slid into my hair and his tongue into my mouth. It was about as far from ignoring Robbie as he could get, and a snub to the poor kid I wasn't entirely comfortable with, but when I tried to straighten, his fingers curled into my hair and held me in place. He didn't play the aggressor card often, but he knew it went straight to my dick. He always managed to find just the right button to push to get me to melt right into his hands. It pissed me off, and yet...
I couldn't help it. I gave in with a moan, and just when he had me forgetting we weren't alone, he pulled away enough to lick his lips and lean his head against mine.
“What's me bloody father done now?” he asked.
I twisted around so I could settle between his legs instead of going back to my desk. It was more comfortable to not have to see Robbie's reaction to my complete manipulation, too. “Just rearranged my staff, stole Beth for himself, and replaced her with your roommate.”
“You're my roommate, lover.”
“With Robbie,” I clarified, pointing, of course, in case he'd forgotten who Robbie was in the past five minutes. When he kissed me like that it was a stretch to remember my own name. I sighed again and let my weight sink into him. “Don't be mad. It isn't his fault.”
“He's a meddling—”
“No. I mean yeah.”
He turned my head and smiled at me. The glint in his eyes said he knew exactly what he'd done to my synapses.
I blinked and shook my head a bit to dispel some of his charm. “Yeah. He is. But Robbie needs to do this, right? So don't freak out.”
“I'm not...” He wrapped his arms around me and pulled me in tight so he could whisper in my ear. “Just don't ogle him, yeah?”
Fuck if I didn't blush like a guilty school boy. “You have nothing to worry about there, Davey,” I told him hastily, willing myself not to think about Robbie fucking Kelly. I smiled and turned it on him.
He growled, took my chin in his hand and held tight while his tongue dipped into the dimple on my cheek, worked its way over to my lips, and delved into my mouth.
This time, I groaned and squirmed to get more contact with him. I wanted him. Right then, right there. I wanted him to bend me over the desk, but that wasn't his way. I'd have to settle for whatever he'd give me.
“Uh, guys?” The leather sofa squeaked as Robbie shifted on it. “Still in the room?”
“Why?” David murmured, while he busied himself with my lips and eyelids, dropping light kisses onto my lashes.
“Good question.” With another few, choice words mumbled under his breath, the little brat gathered up the papers from the desk and left the room.
“You have to be nice, David.” It was an attempt to get myself under control, but he just kept kissing, and now, he was sliding a hand up under my shirt, which, mysteriously, was no longer tucked neatly into my trousers.
“I have to be—” The hand on my chin tightened again and lifted. “I have t’ be nice? I lived with the twit. I know him. He's no angel, and ye have yer own reputation, Ian. I might have been a hustler, but I know ye. I watched you a long time while I was with Cornie. Ye aren't exactly chaste.”
Way to kill the mood. “You don't trust me?” I thought maybe I'd misunderstood, but his eyes narrowed. The gut-dropping that happened when he looked at me like that made it hard to breathe.
“I don't trust him. And he's yer type. You like yer twinks.”
“Maybe.” I got up, too angry to worry anymore if he was mad at me. “I like my twinks, but I love you, ya stupid moron.”
He straightened and thumped his feet on the floor, indignation stiffening his body.
I slammed myself into my chair and pulled it around to face the desk. I could be angry easier with my back to him. “Don't you have a set to build?”
“Ian.”
“Work?”
“No.” His vo
ice softened dramatically. “I'm sorry.” He knelt beside me and spun my chair away from the desk. Not that I resisted very hard. I didn't like fighting with him.
“He sets me off. He's me father's pet, and I know he has a thing for ye. Can ye blame me fer bein’ jealous?”
“Be as jealous as you like, David. Just don't go about expecting me to step out on you because someone has a sweet face. I'm with you.” I slapped his shoulder lightly. “Idiot.”
“But ya do think he's attractive.”
“Fuck! David, I swear!”
His Adam's apple bobbed, and he flinched. I could tell he regretted saying it. Damn it was hard to stay mad at the man, but did he know how it felt to have that kind of accusation flung at you?
“He's hardly unattractive, David. Tell me you lived with him and you haven't tapped that in between your rich old farts.”
I know. I said it to piss him off. I was just making a point. I also know Robbie Kelly had a pretty fair estimation of his own charms, and he wasn't real chuffed about who knew it, or who took him up on his offers. I could hardly imagine the two of them in close proximity and not doing each other.
He looked at the floor, and his gaze stayed there.
“David.”
“I've never had a lover I cared to be faithful to before, Ian.”
“David.”
“What?” Still, he didn't look up.
“I don't care about you and Robbie any more than I do about the hustling, and I'm sorry I said that. It's completely irrelevant. You have your past, I have mine. Just. Tell me you're my future.”
“What?” Finally, his head came up and he stared, wide-eyed. “Of course!”
This time, my kiss was all possessive. Damn if I was going to let him see how easily that look could melt me on the spot. I moved my chair, wheeling it so he kneeled between my knees, and kissed until I was sure his toes curled and his cock ached. I finally let him go when his fingers, gripping my biceps, tightened enough to bruise. His knees creaked as he shifted weight, but he didn't get up.
“I'm sorry, Ian.”
“Me too. But this has to work out, David. Robbie took a huge chance throwing his lot in with your father and asking for his help. He's in over his head, and we have to help him. He needs this.”
I held my breath until he nodded, knowing we might need it just as much, if only to get Robbie out on his own and away from us.
“Ya have to put it like that, eh?” I think it took him a minute to find a smile for me. Clearly, he still didn't like the idea, but he was willing to live with it. I could only hope the six weeks passed quickly and we didn't crack from the tension I could already see building behind his eyes. He was leaning toward agreeing with me, but I could tell it was costing him something. “He's not the waif he'd let ya think, ya know.”
“But he's not the match for your father he thinks he is, either.” I straightened his collar and touched my forehead to his. “And neither am I, but let's keep my inadequacies between us until we get through this.” I straightened up and gazed into his eyes, hoping he would see my point. “Dale Wentworth is not going to run our lives, even if he is your father, and he's not going to dictate Robbie's, either if I can help it. The man is just too full of himself.”
“He can be ruthless, Ian. Ya know that.”
“But I have one thing he wants.”
“You do?”
“I have you.”
That finally brought out a smile. And behind it, worry, because he was right. Dale Wentworth always got what he wanted, and what he wanted was a son who listened to him. He didn't like many of David's choices in life, or in love, and if he could find a guy he thought was better for him, he would spend a lot of time and energy trying to crush me. He might do it anyway, just because I wasn't his choice, or because he was in a bad mood.
“You most definitely have me,” he assured me, and that was just what I needed to hear.
I took in a breath that had the taste and the smell of him, leaned in and kissed him again for good measure. “And you, my love, have a set to build. Whatever else happens, we do our jobs, because he isn't going to get to any of us on a technicality.”
“Yes, sir.”
I laughed.
“Ye think me callin’ ya sir is funny, do ye?” He got up so he could lean over me when he kissed me. I had to stretch up to receive the kiss, and he didn't hold back on the toe-curling passion that always left me wanting more.
“We'll see who's sayin’ sir when I git ya home tonight, Ian, love.”
“We could...” I started to pull him down into my lap.
He chuckled as he gently pulled out of my grip and walked out the door.
“...now,” I finished lamely, and flopped my head down on the desk. “That's just cruel.”
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* * *
Chapter four
Out on the floor, tension rode the air like black smog. Beth stormed, Robbie tiptoed around and Sarah ducked under it all as inconspicuously as she could. I felt sorry for her, always caught between her friendship with Beth and her loyalty to me, and now, trying to keep David happy too. Robbie's continued presence on set, following Beth around to learn her job had David's mood turning foul quickly. I wish I could figure out what it was about the kid that set him off. It had to be about more than just me.
I cut my afternoon walk-through short and headed back to my office. Cowardly, maybe. Self-preservation sometimes dictated calculated cowardice, though. Beth was glaring bullets every chance she got, and Robbie...
It was flattering and annoying that he flirted with me every chance he got. He did it to get under David's skin, and it was working. It didn't help that he was, as my lover had pointed out, exactly the type I went for, and not just physically. His attitude was every bit as unapologetically sexy as David had ever been, and it wasn't any less attractive on him than it had been on my rugby player. Still. If that had been what drew me to David, it wasn't what kept me by his side. Sure, it turned me on to watch him, but the fantasies it engendered were all about the man I was in love with, and the things he may or may not let me do to him when we got home. That man was not Robbie Kelly.
I was acutely aware that David watched him and scowled until it began to feel like we were having the sordid affair he'd practically accused us of. This jealous side to my lover, a side I never imagined existed wasn't exactly endearing , especially when he started directing those scowls at me.
Whatever he thought, though, he didn't see fit to share, and that probably made me most angry—and made my head pound and my heart ache. I was so on edge by the time five o'clock rolled around that I left with barely a word to anyone. I just wanted to be home.
David worked late. I knew he had a lot to do. He could have been avoiding me. But I just decided to believe he'd run into a snag and had to stay to work it out. I told myself this like a mantra as I brushed my teeth and shimmied under the covers. I'd worked myself most of the way to miserable by the time he finally dragged himself in. He showered and crawled in next to me with such stealth it was obvious he didn't want to wake me. I obliged and pretended to be asleep.
The morning was quiet, awkward, and he told me he'd be in around noon just before he disappeared into the spare room with his sketch book. He didn't always sit in his chair to sketch anymore. He'd taken over the second bedroom and all but banished me from going in. I didn't ask. He wanted to keep his art to himself. Just another aspect of him I didn't quite get but didn't have a good reason to argue against. It would have been fantastic to know what he liked to draw, though, or what he painted. Maybe someday.
The week dragged by slowly. The tension outside my office dissipated a little at a time, but the make-up sex I craved never actually materialized. The tension inside my office hummed like a live wire. Robbie tiptoed around me and bolted from the room whenever David came in. David never stayed long.
He was just stalking out for about the third time Wednesday morning, having come in with som
ething on his mind which he never actually spat out, when Robbie shuffled in, a sheaf of papers in his hand. David just barely managed to grind back a snarl as he left the room.
I sighed. “What is it, Robbie?”
“I just got off the phone with Beth.”
“Okay.”
He slumped onto the couch and stared at his trainers with the bundle of papers held in both hands between his knees.
“Robbie?”
“What she said the other day. Is that really what everyone thinks?”
“Did she say something else?”
“No. She apologized. I know she was just mad. But she said it, even if she felt bad for it and doesn't want to think she feels that way, she said it. I'm not just an ambitious whore, you know.”
I'd never seen dejected done quite so well. I got up and went to sit beside him on the couch. “I can't speak for anyone but myself, Robbie.”
He nodded without looking up. The papers crinkled as he tightened his grip on them. “And what do you think?”
“I think that Dale Wentworth does not waste his time, money, or energy on anyone who doesn't show some sort of potential.”
He studied me for a long minute, his pale blue eyes as serious as I'd ever seen them. “You don't know much about Dale Wentworth, Ian. No one does.”
“But you do?”
“I thought...” He swallowed, and I had the distinct impression he was on the edge of real tears. “What if the only real potential he sees in me is exactly what he picked me up for in the first place?”
I couldn't quite bring myself to ask what that was. I was pretty sure I knew. “He wouldn't be giving you this job, offering you this money, if he honestly didn't think you could do it. You are a good tattooist, Robbie, and you've got a good head on your shoulders. You can do this. Don't let him intimidate you into thinking you're anything but someone who deserves a break.”
“If he thinks I can do it, then why...”
“Why what?”
He held out the papers, waved them at me. “Why did he write this contract?”
I took the papers from him and read through them. “Robbie, one of the clauses in here stipulates you aren't to share the contents of the contract with anyone.”