Undercover Lover

by Peter Styles

  He held back a chuckle. “Let me check something, okay?”

  “Sure.”

  He looked down at the desk blotter, but what he saw didn’t please him. And a look at his schedule for the next few days was equally disappointing. Of course, he’d made that schedule on his own but he hadn’t planned on wanting to do anything else. Then, he straightened up and shook his head. He was the boss here. Finley Real Estate belonged to him and he could do with it whatever he wanted, no matter the advice against it.

  “I’m not free tonight but I can definitely do dinner or something tomorrow. Listen, I have to go so why don’t I text you the details tonight? Or… early tomorrow morning, depending on when I…”

  When I can get my secretary to reschedule all those appointments for me.

  He never got to finish what he was saying because, just then, Jeremiah interrupted him. “That sounds good to me. No rush. I’d best let you go. Talk soon.”

  An abrupt click told him that he’d been hung up on.

  Chris sighed and dropped his head into his hands, wondering how he was meant to go about having a business and a personal life. Really, he hadn’t planned on anything personal with anyone, but Jeremiah was different somehow. Jeremiah was an intellect. Attractive too, but more than just a person to bang and part ways with half an hour later.

  Well, I guess I’ll have to play things by ear for a bit, but now I can start planning out a schedule that includes time for dating.

  If, that was, they were at all compatible. Chris had a feeling that Jeremiah was going to be one tough nut to crack. He seemed like the private sort.

  “Maybe I should read a book or two,” he muttered.

  His office door opened and his secretary poked her head in through the door with a mischievous glimmer in her eyes. “I suggest you start with your calendar because you’re supposed to be in the meeting room right about now.”

  “Dammit,” he swore, pushing up from his chair. “Why didn’t you remind me sooner?”

  She didn’t say anything, only moved back out of the doorway and held the door wide open for him. Only when he passed did she mutter under her breath, “Not only did you tell me to quit rushing you, you also instructed me to never interrupt you while you were on the phone.”

  Chris sighed. “How many other conflicting things have I told you?”

  “Basically everything, Mr. Finley,” she said, handing him a stack of papers that he was obviously supposed to have prepared for himself. “But don’t worry. It’s my job to keep your job under control.”

  Well, pretty soon I’m going to need you to help me keep my personal life under check too. Hope you’re up for that.

  Chapter 8

  Jeremiah had never been to a restaurant where wearing a suit was a requirement. Even standing out on the street and looking in the large windows was intimidating. The décor was somewhat cluttered, as was normal for a tavern, but clearly expensive and placed in just such a way as to make use of every inch of cluttered space. The lights were bright, illuminating Gramercy Tavern’s split dining area and bar.

  Jeremiah clutched at his jacket cuff, eyes sliding across what he could see of the patrons within. They were businessmen and professionals, the lot of them, who wore their outfits like a second skin. And here he was, clearly out of his league.

  At least Markus was serious this time when we went shopping.

  As much as it was difficult for him to imagine a dining establishment with a dress code, he found it surprisingly easy to imagine being kicked out of one if he wore that ridiculous silver costume. The suit he wore now was dark grey, nearly black, and still just a bit too form-fitting.

  Managing to tear his eyes away from the Tavern’s front, he scanned the bustling streets in search of Chris. This was where they were supposed to meet for a late dinner and, although the sky looked quite nice at dusk, Jeremiah was very aware of the fact that he was a sitting duck if someone tried to mug him.

  Suddenly, something hard pressed lightly against his back. He stiffened.

  “Give me all your money,” a familiar voice murmured. Hot breath rolled against his ear.

  Scowling, Jeremiah wheeled around and glared at Chris. The company manager was grinning, clearly pleased with himself, but as the look on Jeremiah’s face registered, he slowly held up his hands between them. “Okay, okay. Peace, alright? Don’t kill me.”

  “Don’t scare me like that!” Jeremiah snapped, anger getting the better of him and pushing his fear away. “It’s not nice.”

  Chris blinked a little, a slow look of contemplation crossing his face. It occurred to Jeremiah that he hadn’t ever looked so long and hard at the other man until now. It was easy enough, with the bright lights spilling through the restaurant windows. He was darkly tanned, with blond hair full of lighter streaks no doubt turned pale due to all his time in the sun. While clearly muscular, he was nowhere near Markus’s level of athleticism.

  Then, Chris nodded as if agreeing with something that had been said aloud. He leaned over and grabbed Jeremiah’s hand, pressing the back of it to his lips. “You’re right. It wasn’t nice and I apologize. Do you still want to have dinner with me?”

  Jeremiah glared at him for a moment but he couldn’t hold onto his anger any longer. No one ever kissed his hand like that before. It was a romantic gesture, and Markus was a bit lacking in that area.

  “No,” he said, “but I do want to have dinner because I’m hungry.”

  He hadn’t eaten all day due to nervousness but now it seemed like a lot of that had been due to anticipation. He was starving, and he had a wallet full of money that Markus gave him as an allowance. Well, it was more than he was usually given as his allowance due to the fact that these were extenuating circumstances. He was expected to spend some of it on Chris to get on his good side. And if that didn’t work… he had been given permission to do whatever it would take.

  Jeremiah would call the whole thing off before he let it get that far.

  Chris didn’t look the least bit put out by the jab thrown in his direction. If anything, his grin seemed to spread. He relinquished his grip on Jeremiah’s hand and moved off towards the Tavern. “You’re going to like this place a lot. Very top of the line.”

  “My definition of top of the line is usually a frozen pizza with a brand name on it.”

  “Ha!” Chris glanced back over at him. “You’re a pizza guy then. I’ll have to remember that.”

  Jeremiah couldn’t help but to smile a little. Chris Finley was so well dressed, and his suit fit him like he was born wearing it, but he sounded like a little kid hanging around his first crush and trying to do everything exactly right. It was almost endearing, and not at all what he’d been expecting.

  “Getting a bit ahead of yourself, aren’t you? Thinking that we’re already going to have a second date.”

  “A guy can dream,” Chris tossed back over his shoulder. He held open the restaurant door, another surprising gesture and one that Jeremiah would have appreciated more if he hadn’t been so intimidated by the new surroundings.

  A hostess standing just inside the doorway smiled at him. “Hello, sir. Just one?”

  “Two, actually,” Chris said, coming up behind Jeremiah like a savior. “Reservation for Finley in the private dining area?”

  “Of course, Mr. Finley, sir. Just one moment.”

  She turned around to the counter just behind her and riffled through a book there for a moment before nodding to herself. Turning back around, two menus had magically appeared in her hands. “If you two gentlemen will follow me?”

  Jeremiah kept quiet as they were led back to a darkened area petitioned off from the rest of the restaurant. He held his tongue as they were seated at the table and as glasses of water were poured. Specials were explained, although he couldn’t understand half the words. Then their hostess took a step back and said, “And your server will be with you shortly. Thank you for dining with us tonight.”

  And he could hold his curiosity
back no longer. “How did you manage to get a reservation for the next day in a place like this?”

  Chris took a sip of his water. Jeremiah’s gaze went to his lips and the way they pressed against the delicate rim of the glass. “I guess you’re relaxing if you can ask such a forward question, aren’t you?”

  His shoulders tensed up, and his cheeks started to flood with heat. “Oh… was that forward? I’m sorry.”

  He was rewarded with a soft chuckle, although he didn’t entirely know what that meant.

  “Look,” Chris said, “we’re both adults here. And if we’re interested in each other, I don’t think there’s anything that either one of us has a reason to hide. You can ask me anything you want, Jeremiah. I’ll answer the best I can.”

  Jeremiah hesitated, but wasn’t this exactly the sort of opening he was supposed to be looking for? “How did you get a reservation so fast?”

  “Money,” Chris replied, simply and drily.

  “Uh… oh.”

  Chris’s hazel eyes danced with amusement and he laughed. “Not really.”

  “Oh.”

  Another sip of water. Jeremiah watched his date’s Adam’s apple bob slowly in his throat.

  “It just so happens that I know they’re looking to upscale and relocate, or otherwise open a new location. I offered them a deal in the future if they got me in here tonight.”

  Jeremiah was aghast. “You did that just to go on a date with me? That’s… that’s just absurd.”

  “Is it?” Chris shrugged. “A five percent discount really isn’t that much of a difference, and besides. What’s life without a little whimsy once in a while?”

  Just then, they were interrupted by a young man in a waiter’s uniform. He smiled at both of them in turn, bowing his head slightly. “Good evening, sirs. My name is Rob and I will be your server for the night. If there is anything you need at all, don’t hesitate to ask. Might I start you off with something to drink?”

  Chris glanced at Jeremiah, who just shook his head. “I’ll just stick to water, actually.”

  “As you wish.”

  “Hold it,” Chris said. “You can have water any other day of the week. Go a little crazy with me tonight. Have a glass of wine or two.”

  I’m still not much of a drinker…

  But with those hazel eyes watching him how could he refuse? So, he relented. Chris brightened and ordered them two different glasses of wine, the names of which Jeremiah didn’t know. Rob the waiter nodded and left them again as they were, but returned quickly enough with a bottle and two chilled glasses.

  One of the wines was red, and the other was white. Jeremiah eyed them with equal skepticism. Their sharp scent wasn’t exactly pleasing; he was even less pleased when Chris moved the glass of red wine over in front of him.

  “Isn’t red supposed to be stronger?”

  “Well, just try it. You might like it anyway.”

  I doubt it.

  He was very aware of Chris’s eyes on him as he lifted the glass up to his lips. The scent was overpowering, and the bite of it on his tongue almost made him gag. Struggling, he swallowed the tiny sip and then looked over at Chris with watering eyes.

  “Uh… Nope. Still don’t like it.”

  Chris laughed. “Alright. Good try, though. No backwash?”

  “Gross, no!”

  “Then here, let’s switch. See if you like this better. It’s dryer.”

  And dry it was, as dry as a liquid could be. It was like licking liquid nitrogen. Jeremiah felt his face screw up into a grimace, words caught between his puckered lips. Shaking his head, unable to speak, he put the glass down.

  Chris kept laughing. “You really aren’t a wine guy, are you? Rob, do you mind coming over here?”

  Although Jeremiah hadn’t noticed their waiter hanging around, he appeared as if from the shadows. “Yes, sir?”

  Chris gestured to their glasses of wine. “These are both very fine, but my friend here isn’t much of a drinker. I apologize for that. Is there anything sweeter? A dessert wine, maybe?”

  “Of course!” Rob said. “Let me take these other ones out of your way.”

  “No need,” Chris replied. “I’ll drink them both so there’s no need for it to be wasted. Just something lighter for my friend, please.”

  “As you wish.”

  Jeremiah looked down at his hands, feeling a little frustrated. “There wasn’t any need for that, you know. I could have just drank water. No need to make a fuss.”

  Chris gave him an odd look while moving both wine glasses over to his side of the table. “A fuss? Jeremiah, this is his job. It’s what he does. Asking a question or wanting something else is what you’re meant to be doing at a restaurant, so you can enjoy the experience better. You weren’t making a fuss at all.”

  “I guess I really just haven’t been in a restaurant like this before. It’s a whole lot different from a Steak ‘n’ Shake.”

  Chris smiled and reached across the table to pat the back of his hand. His touch was warm and strangely inviting. “That it is. Maybe if you’ll let me have that second date, we can just order a pizza and hang out somewhere. Whatever you’re comfortable with.”

  He couldn’t hide the surprise in his expression, mirrored in Chris’s watchful eyes. This was the callous hacker who was Markus’s arch nemesis? The mysterious man who Markus talked about as if he was some sort of hell-spawn who would be nothing but rude and cheap. Well, he definitely wasn’t cheap if these menu prices were anything to go by, and he had been anything but rude. In fact, Jeremiah dared to think that he might have been fed the entirely wrong impression about this other man. He was being sensitive in a way that Markus never was.

  That doesn’t make him a good person. It doesn’t mean anything. Markus loves me. I’m just here to get information.

  “But,” Chris continued, “I think you’d have a better time if you went a little bit outside your comfort zone sometimes. And where better to start with food?”

  “I just…”

  “Please.” Chris shook his head and removed his hand as their waiter came back over with a different bottle of wine to pour. “If you don’t feel comfortable with something, just ask me to do it. I’m the owner of a company, for goodness sake! I do uncomfortable things all the time.”

  Jeremiah dared to smile. He was here to collect information but that didn’t mean he couldn’t enjoy himself, right? “Okay. I guess I can do that.”

  “Good!” Chris beamed at him, his hazel eyes lighting up. The beginnings of crow’s feet wrinkled up at the corners of his smiling eyes. “Rob, I think we’ll start off with an appetizer. Actually, can we get two, for the sake of sampling? The duck liver mousse and Arctic Char tartare.”

  “Of course, sir. Let me just go put that order in for you.”

  Jeremiah made a face. “I’m going to hate both of those.”

  “Well, we just won’t order anything with those in it for the rest of dinner,” Chris chuckled. “So then, tell me more about you. Who is Jeremiah No-Last-Name?”

  “A college student.” Jeremiah shrugged a little. “Like half of the general population.”

  Chris leaned forward on his elbows. “What are you majoring in?”

  “Contemporary Literature,” he replied. “I like to read, if you hadn’t noticed.”

  “I’m pretty sure I picked up on that. Are you minoring in anything?”

  “I am,” Jeremiah said, a little surprised at how easily the conversation was coming. His apprehension had melted away entirely with Chris’s earlier reassurances, and now he felt completely at peace. For the first time, he noticed the soft music being pumped through hidden speakers somewhere in the restaurant. The background sounds of other diners were a perfect bit of ambiance, not at all disruptive. “Business, actually.”

  “Really?” Chris straightened up, smiling teasingly. “Maybe I should hire you on to my company.”

  “Uh…”

  “It was just a joke, honey. Try a sip of your n
ew wine.”

  Frowning, Jeremiah looked at the glass at his elbow. He couldn’t smell the wine from here, but he didn’t know whether that was a good thing or not. Picking it up, he brought it up to his lips and took a sip. The taste of alcohol was still sharp and prominent, but now it was mellowed by a sour sweetness.

  “Oh,” he said, surprised. “That’s good.”

  “Good! I’m glad you liked it. And now you can try something else new.”

  Their waiter approached again, setting down an array of small plates that all contained miniscule portions of the most unappetizing foods Jeremiah had ever seen. There was a mound of what looked like creamy chicken salad, clearly the liver mousse, and a bowl of vegetable slaw glistening in a vinegary sauce. Cubes of charred bread lay in a delicate pattern on yet another plate, right beside a pink mound of raw fish and apple pieces.

  “How does everything look?” Rob asked.

  Like vomit.

  “Perfect,” Chris replied. “Jeremiah, do you mind if I put in the rest of our orders?”

  He hadn’t even looked at the rest of the menu and he didn’t want to hold anything up, so he agreed. He continued to stare at the lumps of disgusting food while Chris spoke with their waiter. Rob moved off again and they were left alone once more.

  There was nothing else to do for it. His time had run out. He was going to have to taste these awful offerings.

  “Have you ever had mousse before?”

  “Chocolate mousse. For dessert.”

  “Well, this is a bit different. It should be the same texture, though. Why don’t you try it? Just spoon up a bit on a piece of toast and give it a try.”

  Jeremiah let out a light moan as his spoon slid through the gelatinous mass of blended organ. It felt so thick and wrong, like a milkshake that had been left to sit out in the sun and fester for a week. And the sight of it spread on top of a piece of dry toast… he saw the texture of it and almost gagged.

  “Come on,” Chris encouraged. He lightly thumped one hand on the table, starting up a soft chant. “Do it. Do it. You can do it.”