by RJ Scott
"They have vineyards in New York State?" Liam asked, completely open and honest in his curiosity. Micah smiled. Now that was a question he could handle.
"The Finger Lakes region. We have snow, rain, and storms rolling in from Lake Ontario like you wouldn't believe, but you can also find some of the sweetest, most perfect harvests you could imagine."
"Wow," Liam murmured in response, and Micah narrowed his eyes. Was that a genuine wow or an 'oh-shit-stop-talking' wow? Micah had received both in his twenty-nine years. "Seriously, I imagine New York as this gloomy grayness. Just another Seattle, I guess." Clearly that had been an interested wow.
"Are you staying in the hotel?" Micah asked, placing his empty glass on one of the small tables scattered around. The question was an innocent one, but Liam appeared immediately defensive with a somewhat guarded expression on his face.
"Are you?" he countered fairly quickly.
"I am." At those words, Liam seemed to relax slightly.
"So am I."
Well, that was the oddest exchange Micah had ever had, and the warm fuzzy feelings of friendliness the wine created gave way to a nagging suspicion that the guy with the camera was slightly odd. Typical that the guy was hot—freaking hot, supernova hot— and clearly a tad… out of the ordinary.
"Anyway—" Micah extended his hand, which Liam took again. "—I must go back to the welcome part of this whole week. It was nice to meet you."
"Thank you again for rescuing my camera," Liam called after him.
Micah turned to wave goodbye, startled at the feeling of complete isolation that seemed to cloak the other man. He looked lost, standing there in his suit and his spit-shined shoes, his blond hair carefully pushed back from his face. Damn, but he looked lonely.
Chapter 4
Liam stood for some time, at first staring after a retreating Micah and then shifting to gaze out over the beach. What a fucking idiot! One hot guy, one probably very straight, very unavailable hot guy, and he turned into a mess of crap. He cringed at the memory of being so flustered over something as stupid as whether or not he was staying in the hotel. Damn it! He needed a drink, but to get a drink meant he had to cross through the mingling wine geeks and chance the possibility of running into Micah again. He supposed he could go out onto the beach and walk around the front of the hotel, but it was so nice here on the veranda with the view of the ocean, and the buzz of conversation in the main room would stave off his feelings of being here on his own. Then inspiration hit. One well-placed call from his cell and a member of staff appeared at his side with two bottles of Bud and a small bowl of the chocolate-covered strawberries.
"Hey, Oscar," he said. He relieved the other man of his precious cargo, recognizing him as the same man who had helped him to his room that morning.
"Mr. Wade." Oscar acknowledged his name, and then looked past him at the crowd beyond, the noise levels increasing with each passing minute.
"I'm marooned, Oscar."
"So it seems, sir."
"I called because I really wanted strawberries and beer."
"Please call us if you require anything further." Liam tipped him again almost as generously as the last time and slipped back into the shadows of the veranda, moving a comfy lounger back into an alcove and settling back for beer and strawberries and star gazing. Who needed wine?
Inevitably, as the beer wended its way to his muscles, he relaxed and thoughts turned to his decisions and to his daughter, and then in a roundabout way to Janelle. His best friend since he was five, she was the clichéd housekeeper's daughter and the liveliest of people. They met in a shared tree house, bonded with Ken and Barbie, and loved and laughed for a long time. Until he'd left for college, that was. Four years at Yale and he'd returned to a different Jan, a quieter Jan, and it took her less than a day to divulge to him she was pregnant. Four months pregnant, in fact. She never revealed who the father was, but the Jan he knew wouldn't sleep around, and he assumed she must know. Right there and then he had promised her everything, his money, his protection and his name. They married in less than a week, in a quiet ceremony in the gardens she loved. His family rallied around them—even his father was supportive of his decision which to this day never failed to amaze him—and called Emma their own when she was born. When Jan died only five days after her daughter graced the world, Emma became Liam's, his alone, and his family had never faltered in their love for him or for his new daughter.
He missed Jan. On nights like this when the stars hung heavy in the darkness, he missed her. The dark canopy reminded him of nights lying in the tree house, looking up and giggling over something that had happened at school. She was the only one he had trusted enough to tell, after his twelfth birthday, he was of two minds over his sexuality. She smacked him upside the head and then added, in that feisty no-nonsense way of hers, one simple statement. Liam, you're as gay as the gayest thing that ever gayed.
He knew. Of course, he did. He even did something about it at college, staying well hidden at school but actually experimenting some when he was in the dorms. Drunken fumbles and secret assignations and every bit of it was fucking hot. Then Jan happened. Then Emma happened. And now… Leigh. Perfect society acceptable Leigh, with a good pedigree, she was a brilliant hostess. The venue for the wedding was booked and the tuxes ordered and here he sat thinking about throwing it all away. For what? The chance for a few nights of rough sex with someone bigger than he was? Someone who could hold him down? Was it worth throwing everything away? He would probably end up being some loser who jumped from man to man, unable to form a stable relationship of any quality. That offered no stability for Emma and was a mockery of being a dad.
But tonight…
He'd shaken hands with that wine guy, the one with the intriguing hazel green eyes, the man whose name he immediately remembered even though he pretended he didn't, and whose touch ignited something inside him…
He palmed his dick in his close-fitting pants. Why couldn't he get it up like this for Leigh? Why did he not find her sexually attractive? What the fuck was it about Micah that sent iron to his dick as fast as you could eat a chocolate-covered strawberry? Just sitting here, thinking about it now, was sending him to half mast, and he wriggled uncomfortably in the lounger. Now he had run out of beer as well, and he was forced to sit here with a freaking hard-on in the dark. Closing his eyes, he banged his head on the chair back twice, attempting to clear his head of carnal thoughts.
Today had been a long one, and exhaustion was pulling at him, blurring his concentration. He decided it might be a good idea to keep his eyes closed, which is what led him to fall asleep curled up like a pretzel. This then led him to waking and then stumbling back to his perfectly good bed, his eyes heavy with sleep, and his suit wrinkled and messed around him.
Of course, fate dictated he was attached to the tail end of the wine crowd, and in particular, face to face with the same man that, in his muddled head, had caused him to fall asleep in the cool evening air in the first place. Said man nodded a goodnight then avoided his gaze, so Liam did what every grown-up mature adult male would do when he was deliberately snubbed. He ignored Micah in return.
Micah disappeared into an elevator, and Liam was not watching him leave. Not at all.
"Another beer, sir?" Liam blinked at Oscar who had suddenly appeared at his side as if by magic.
"No thank you, Oscar. My bed is calling."
"Good night, sir."
"Good night, Oscar."
His bed was so good, so big and soft, and once he had thrown off the stupid decorative pillow things, he stripped and collapsed onto the vast expanse of cotton. He ignored his traitorous dick, which was demanding more than he was physically capable of tonight. That was until he circled it in a hold. He was determined not to get him off, until he moved his hand. Then moved it again, until finally, he was so close he could taste the orgasm as it chased down his spine. Images of the dark-haired man from today filled his thoughts. The stranger was so much fucking bigge
r, taller, broader, darker than he was… The things Liam imagined he could do…
When he came, it was silent and swift. Grabbing at his three hundred dollar shirt, he wiped the cooling fluid from his stomach and hands. He didn't stop to think why he had gotten off to a stranger's face. He floated on the now, and sleep pulled him under in seconds.
Chapter 5
Micah decided that being on the fifth floor definitely had its benefits. This floor was where the entrance to the rooftop terrace was with the advertised plunge pool and outdoor Jacuzzi. There were a mere twenty-seven steps from his room to the water, and once Micah arrived, he took a few seconds to appreciate exactly where he was. The deck beside the pool was built from Italian granite according to the brochure in his room, and he admitted it looked very grand. In fact, it was a real throwback to the turn of twentieth century.
The entire area was surrounded by lush landscaping with occasional breaks that afforded views of the sparkling Pacific; views to take your breath away. He could also see parts of the beach, which at five-thirty in the morning were mostly empty, except for a few diehard runners. He smiled to himself and stretched tall, arching his back as the weak morning sunlight cast faint warmth on him. His body clock didn't seem to care he was officially on vacation and he probably could have had more time in bed. Five-thirty had arrived; therefore he was awake with his ready-for-business attitude.
He had actually considered lying in bed for a few more minutes, but the invitation of the new morning through the soft gauzy voile at the windows of his room invited him outside. On one hand, he should have pulled the drapes before he'd fallen asleep to fool his body it was still night. On the other, he hated waking in artificial darkness; it disorientated him.
So, swimming it was, and deciding that the sudden approach to the cool water was the best way, he dived into the deep end and resurfaced half-way up the pool. The clear sparkling water was cold. Damn cold. Without hesitation, he began the repetition of strokes from one end to the other and back, lengths finished and his muscles warm before he even realized it. Mindless yet refreshing, the repetitive movement afforded him the time to think. After the usual vineyard and winery related thoughts, he realized he was drifting close to the impressions of last night and then finally to the guy he had met first on the beach and later on the veranda.
He executed a perfect underwater turn, his body slicing through the water, and considered everything he had seen last night. The confusion of seeing new people and meeting his old friends, had been balanced by tasting wine that burst with passion on his tongue. Then the most incredible eyes, intensely blue, a shade this side of a high summer sky intruded on his thoughts. Since when did he wax poetic about another guy's eyes, for God's sake?
Of course, in the relationships he'd had to date, all three and a half of them, he always found his partners attractive in one way or another. Joe had the most incredible ass and was his first real love. Adam was the one with the copper hair so long Micah could wrap it around his hands when they made love. His eyes had been soft velvety brown. Evan had been the half, far too focused on how much Micah was worth and how much they could potentially sell Seneca Blue for. Come to think of it, once they'd gotten over the mediocre sex, Evan hadn't really possessed much in the way of depth, and for the life of him, Micah couldn't remember the color of Evan's eyes. Then finally there had been Scott, with the changeable hazel gaze, the clever mouth, and the short dark hair. He'd expected to be with Scott for a very long time, but Scott had decided monogamy was over-rated and rode off on the back of his new love's Harley.
Liam was a good four or so inches shorter than Micah, probably five years younger, and had looked like sin personified in that suit last night with his short hair softly and artfully mussed. He wasn't sure if he preferred the other man's hair scruffy like it had been on the beach, or carefully gelled like it had been last night, but either way, his hair and those intense blue eyes captured Micah's imagination. To be fair, conversation had clearly not been Liam's strong point, but Micah would have probably enjoyed the non-wine company as a break.
With another turn on the pool wall, he was concentrating on the man's other features now. He had generous sweeps of sooty black eyelashes, cheekbones to die for, and a neck begging to be marked. At a bar or a club, he might well have approached Liam and sounded out his sexual preferences. If he ever actually frequented bars or clubs, that is. Liam was certainly pretty enough to provide a few nights' warmth to a lonely grape grower without said grape grower getting bored. He wouldn't, though. Casual hook-ups were so not his thing.
His sisters didn't understand, nor could Zach or Alex, just how far off the mark they were when they joked about him unceremoniously hooking up for random sex at his yearly week away. They loved him and tried to understand, but to all of them, his being gay meant he clearly needed to be cruising for tail every minute he was able. He often considered they were possibly disappointed their brother was so determined to find the one he refused to settle for second best. That included random young guys in thousand-dollar suits and blue ties.
Thing is… there was something there in Liam. The younger man had a certain air of vulnerability in his guarded expression and had a layer of shyness that intrigued Micah. He stopped in the shallow end, leaning against the side and stretching out his muscles before heaving himself out of the warming water and into the morning air. Casually he sat on the side, placed his palms flat on the ground behind him and leaned back, his eyes closed and his face up to the weak sun.
"Hey." Micah didn't even need to open his eyes to see who was standing behind him, but he did and looked up and, in an instant, wished he hadn't. He was now facing his fantasy. Big mistake—huge. Not only was Liam Wade, beer aficionado, a walking temptation in clothes, he was pretty damn perfect out of them too, broad shouldered with a body that tapered nicely to his hips, and well-muscled legs that looked very strong. There was a small amount of hair sprinkled on his chest—perfect—and his jersey swim shorts left little to Micah's heated and one-track imagination, right down to the edge of a tattoo that showed over the waistband. Micah couldn't think what to say. He needed to be polite and understated. He really needed to try.
"Morning." Lame.
"I'm going for a swim," Liam offered with a wave of his hand at the pool.
"I've been." Clearly. Micah really needed to stand up, and stop thinking thoughts he really shouldn't be having. Maybe if he stood, the blood would rush to his head so he could concentrate, instead of his groin where his embarrassment would be obvious. He began to move to stand, stopping only when Liam went into a crouch next to him, putting his groin at eye level.
"I owe you an apology, I think," Liam offered carefully.
"You do?" For what? Micah couldn't recall anything that Liam needed to be apologizing for. They hadn't shared inappropriate sweaty open-air sex in view of the wine festival opening. Shit, where did that thought come from? Why the fuck is Liam crouching so damn close? He watched as Liam dragged fingers through his hair, gel free and sleep pressed and saw him considering what to say next.
"I value my privacy," he began carefully, "and I was on edge yesterday. I always am when I'm away from home, takes me a few days to come down off of the nine to five. When you asked me if I was staying in the hotel… I got overly suspicious and defensive, which was an incredibly stupid thing to do. For that I am sorry. Contrary to what you may think, I do have some social skills." He quirked a wry smile.
Micah returned the smile at the earnest words. There wasn't really anything there to forgive, and he scrambled to stand, causing Liam to rise from his crouch.
"Okay, nothing to apologize for really, but thanks anyway." Liam's smile widened. A generous freaking mouth and a perfect freaking smile was enough to add another facet to Micah's fantasies.
He went in through the side door to the corridor, glancing back as Liam executed a perfect dive into the crystal pool water. His body was suspended in the air for a millisecond, enough for Micah to ca
pture the image of him in his head.
Nice.
Chapter 6
Liam turned the papers over one by one. This case was one of the first he looked at solo, and his dad expected him to get his head around it before Monday.
The case wasn't really that difficult in black and white. Company A, a biotech firm with a turnover of near seven hundred million dollars, had an employee who moved to Company B, a rival biotech firm, which was growing and looking to encroach on Company A's market share. Problem was the employee took with him knowledge gained at Company A. Simple case really from Liam's point of view. He didn't have to dig far to pull out a precedent on patent of invention. The question was more ethical than anything else. The employee hadn't assigned his rights in the patents to Company A before he went to B.
This is where Wade-Bellings was stepping in. A was concerned that B would exploit their former employee's research. Now A was suing B for infringement and asking the court to compel its former employee to transfer his patent rights to A.
So far so good. The diagrams Liam doodled on the piece of blank paper in front of him had a nice tidy resolution.
Luckily for A, the employee had signed an employment agreement. In it, he agreed that A would own all tangible research he conceived during employment if related to A's business. The problem lay with what was in the employee's head. How did you police people's thoughts and experience? How was it possible to assign a value to a scientist? Could Company A actually demand that any and all knowledge the scientist had was passed back to them? Added to that was the question of how the hell do you record independent thought?
Yale had taught him case law; two years at Wade-Bellings had taught him procedure. Now he needed to deal with ethics in real life situations. That was the reason he'd been handed this case. He just wished he found it interesting.