by Ari McKay
Table of Contents
Blurb
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
More from Ari McKay
About the Author
By Ari McKay
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Copyright
Heart of Glass
By Ari McKay
Lawyers in Love
Fear of being like his unfaithful father has put high walls around senior litigator Asher Caldwell’s heart. Can former district attorney Zach Richardson knock them down to reveal the passionate man beneath the commitment-phobic workaholic, or will Zach’s own jealousy destroy what they’re trying to build?
A new life and a new love—that’s what Zach’s hoping for when he leaves the DA’s office and lets his friends give him a makeover. But the jury’s still out on whether the experiment was a success. His new look gets the attention of his boss and secret crush, Asher Caldwell, and leads to a seduction. Unfortunately, to Zach’s horror he learns that Asher assumed he was a paid escort. Asher is equally mortified to discover he had sex with an employee. Even so, the encounter meant a lot to both men, and they want to give dating a shot. Their romance born out of mistaken identity might work if Zack can trust Asher to be satisfied with the love of only one man… and if Asher can trust himself.
Chapter One
ZACH RICHARDSON stared at his reflection, hardly recognizing the face looking back at him from the brightly lit mirror. Gone was the riotous mop of dark brown curls he’d never been able to tame, replaced by a sleek cut that had cost almost five hundred dollars. But it made him look more like the thirty-year-old man he was than the teenage urchin he’d resembled before. Instead of soft brown eyes behind black-rimmed spectacles, colored contacts turned his eyes a bright blue, which was made all the more striking by his long dark lashes. He hadn’t shaved in two days, and dark stubble shadowed his jaw. He had to admit this new face was a lot more attractive than the old one.
A knock on the bathroom door broke the spell. “How’s it going in there?”
“It’s fine, Kev,” he called out to his waiting friend, then drew in a deep breath before opening the door. “What do you think?”
Kevin Anderson stared at Zach in amazement, then gave a low whistle. “Damn, son, you’re hot!” he said. “What I think is that I’m glad I snapped Erik up before you got here, or he wouldn’t have given me a second look.”
“Not true!” Erik Wilson, Kevin’s husband of just under a year, replied. He slid his arm around Kevin’s waist even as he gave Zach an appraising look from head to toe. “But I’ll echo the ‘damn,’ Zach. It’s like the difference between Clark Kent and Superman—very sexy. You’re going to have men drooling all over you.”
Zach’s cheeks heated, but he was pleased with the praise. After spending his entire life being called “cute” and “boyish,” it was gratifying to have someone tell him he looked sexy.
“It isn’t too much?” he asked, still a bit uncertain.
“No such thing!” Kevin and Erik spoke in unison, and all three of them laughed.
“All right, I’ll trust your judgment.”
“As well you should, given what brilliant attorneys we both are,” Erik drawled. “What do you have planned for the next step in this makeover, babe? Wardrobe?”
“Oh, yes.” Kevin motioned Zach to follow him into the master bedroom. “While you were getting shorn, I did some shopping.” He pointed to the bed. “What do you think?”
Zach looked at the clothes spread out on the bed. As one of the junior attorneys at Caldwell and Monroe, he was expected to dress in the conservative two-piece suits that served as an unofficial uniform at the firm. When he’d worked for the district attorney’s office, he could only afford off-the-rack store brands. Now his higher salary let him upgrade to Zegna and Ralph Lauren, but a suit was a suit was a suit. When he wasn’t at work, he wore khakis with polo shirts or pullover sweaters, depending on the weather; he paid more attention to comfort than style when it came to shopping for clothes.
But Kevin had picked out faded black denim jeans that looked two sizes too small. The shirt he’d selected was a button-down in some shimmering black fabric, and there was also a black leather jacket, something Zach had never owned in his life. A pair of lace-up leather boots, also in black, sat on the floor.
“I thought we were going to a dance club, not a leather bar,” Zach protested. “I have no idea how you think I’m going to fit in those jeans! Who were they made for, a beanpole?”
“Far from it.” Kevin chuckled. “Don’t worry, they stretch. They’re meant to show off your best assets. Which reminds me….”
Kevin reached into a bag on the nightstand and drew out a swatch of black fabric, which he handed to Zach. “Silk boxer briefs. Trust me, you’ll like them. Erik made a believer out of me.”
Zach was blushing again, but he couldn’t help it. “Wow. Okay, if you say so. When I asked you and Erik to help me remake my image, I didn’t realize how far you were going to go.”
“Baby steps are for babies,” Erik replied from where he lounged against the doorframe. “Might as well go all in, right?”
“I guess so.”
Zach reminded himself that any change had to be for the better, and he trusted Kevin not to steer him wrong, even if the pace of the transformation seemed a little overwhelming. He’d made a lot of them in the last six months. When he had turned thirty, he had assessed his life and realized he was in the same job, living in the same apartment, doing the same thing he’d been doing since graduating from law school. If he didn’t do something else soon, he never would. His social life was in a rut too. He didn’t have a boyfriend or even any prospects for one, and that realization had spurred him into action. Well, that, and seeing Asher Caldwell for the first time.
Working with the New York District Attorney’s office demanded long hours for low pay, but Zach had believed in what he was doing. Criminals needed to be brought to justice, and Zach had strong beliefs about right and wrong. But after almost five years, his shiny idealism had dulled, worn away by endless plea deals, political backbiting, and a glimpse into what modern justice really meant. He still fought the good fight, but too often he saw criminals skate on technicalities, or prosecutors bow to political and financial influence. Then he’d been part of a team prosecuting a high-profile case against a socialite for running a prostitution ring, and he’d had his eyes opened in more ways than one.
Zach hadn’t been the senior attorney on the case, but he’d been in court from the beginning. The DA had presented the facts: Mallory Winters, the former wife of Addison Arlington Winters, one of the richest men in New York, had been running a stable of high-priced call girls from her Madison Avenue apartment. On the surface, it was an open-and-shut case with the testimony of a private detective who had watched her residence and bank statements showing an account in Mallory’s name with large cash deposits made at regular intervals. There were Mallory’s phone records and a group of fifteen or so young women who were regularly seen coming and going from Mallory’s apartment. Only one of the girls had agreed to testify against Mallory; the others had clammed up and refused to point fingers at Mallory in exchange for immunity for themselves. But one was all they needed to prove what Mallory had been doing.
Then the defense had presented its case, and Zach had gotten to hear Asher Caldwell for the first time.
Asher had allowed the other members of his legal team to handle the cross-examination of the witnesses for the prose
cution, but when he’d taken the floor, there’d been no doubt who the real mastermind behind the defense was. Tall, dark, and self-assured, Asher had demolished every argument and every piece of evidence presented, and he hadn’t hesitated to call Mallory Winters to the stand to testify in her own defense. He showed a different side of the story, that of a woman who’d been a secretly abused spouse who had set out to help other abused women build lives for themselves. He claimed that if the prosecution had done their jobs, they would have found Mallory was using her social contacts to help the women find work where they would be safe from the men they were trying to escape, not renting their bodies to whomever was willing to pay.
But Asher’s true brilliance had been in calling Daria Rand, the prosecution’s star witness, as a hostile witness for the defense. He’d eviscerated her story and revealed Daria had been the one depositing money to an account opened in Mallory’s name by none other than Addison Winters. The evidence had been trumped up because Addison wanted to get out of the generous financial settlement Mallory had been awarded in the divorce, and he’d twisted her penchant for “do-gooding” to look like something illegal.
The case had changed Zach’s life. He’d been so impressed by Asher’s masterful arguments that he hadn’t cared his team had lost. In fact, he was relieved an innocent woman wouldn’t be facing prison. But more than that, he was smitten by Asher Caldwell’s looks and charisma, and the self-assurance he wore with effortless ease.
No one had ever affected Zach so powerfully before, and it had shaken him out of his rut. He’d gone looking for change, starting with his college roommate, Kevin, who worked for Caldwell and Monroe, Asher Caldwell’s own firm. Within two weeks, Zach had secured a position with the firm; within two months, he’d moved from an apartment in a marginal neighborhood to an apartment in a much better one. At Kevin and Erik’s urging, he’d joined their gym, and now, six months later, his tall, lean frame boasted toned muscles.
He still didn’t have a boyfriend, but it had taken him longer to both work up the courage to go looking for one—and to admit to himself that no matter how much he wanted it, Asher Caldwell was never going to notice he was alive.
He’d nursed a secret fantasy that Asher would step into his office, smile, and ask him out. But over the past few months, he’d learned Asher was a workaholic and commitment-phobic. Office gossip had it that Asher hated his father, which was why he went by his middle name rather than call himself Theodore Caldwell, Jr. The senior Caldwell’s string of messy divorces had alienated his only son and had given him commitment issues on top of it. Asher would never want Zach, or, if gossip were to be believed, anyone else.
After clinging to fruitless hope for months, Zach had finally decided it was time to put himself on the market. Which was how he found himself in Kevin and Erik’s apartment, looking at an outfit he never would have imagined himself in and preparing to go out looking for a man.
Drawing in a deep breath, he shook off his misgivings and picked up the tight pants.
“We’ll let you change. Give a shout if you need any help,” Kevin said, shooing Erik out of the room and following him.
Zach eyed the underwear in his hands, then tossed them onto the bed with the rest. He stripped, folded his clothes, and put them neatly aside. Then he shimmied into the silk boxer briefs, followed by the rest of the outfit. The jeans did indeed stretch, which was a blessing, because once they were on, they molded to Zach’s long legs. The shirt was silk as well, and it was cool and soft against his skin. After he shrugged into the leather jacket, he turned to face the mirrored closet doors, steeling himself to feel ridiculous.
Instead of the uncomfortable, gawky man he expected to see, he stared at himself in disbelief. He looked… good. Better than good, really. He looked amazing, long and lean and dark and maybe a little dangerous. The jacket emphasized the width of his shoulders, and the snug jeans outlined his narrow hips. For the first time, he didn’t think he looked awkward. His height was now an asset rather than a drawback.
He straightened up and pulled his shoulders back. After all these years, this was a body he wasn’t ashamed to show off. He opened the bedroom door and stepped out into the living room. Kevin and Erik looked up from where they sat on the sofa, and Zach had to resist an uncharacteristic desire to preen when their mouths dropped open.
“Wow…,” Kevin breathed softly. “We’re going to have to keep a watch on you at the club tonight, or someone is going to try to drag you off to bed.”
Zach smiled hesitantly. “You really think so? It’s not too over-the-top?”
“God, no.” Erik rose to his feet, admiration clear in his gaze. “I think this deserves a drink. A double, even.”
“I could use one,” Zach admitted. He felt good but also nervous about going to a club. He hadn’t been out on the social scene in a long time, so a little liquid courage couldn’t hurt.
Erik poured each of them two fingers of bourbon in highball glasses. “How about a toast?” he suggested. “To Zach, to his fairy godfathers, and to none of us going to bed alone tonight.”
Kevin laughed as he stood up and joined Erik and Zach. “I’ll drink to that.”
They clinked their glasses together, and Zach downed the potent liquor quickly. He wasn’t much of a drinker, but the bourbon burned pleasantly in his throat, and he felt warmth spreading through his body. He wasn’t the type to go to bed with someone he’d just met, but getting an invitation would do wonders for his ego.
“Ready to go?” Kevin asked. “It’s not too early, and maybe we can get a table instead of having to stand near the bar.”
The three of them traded the warmth of the apartment for the chill of the November night, and they took a cab to the club Kevin and Erik had chosen. A blue neon sign out front identified the club as Nepenthe, and inside, the club was filled with colored shifting lights and throbbing music. Even though it was only eight, the place was already getting crowded, but Erik snagged a table at one side of the dance floor.
“What do you think?” Kevin asked, raising his voice to be heard over the music.
“Not bad.” Zach noted the attractive young men gathered in small groups at the tables, and a few loners at the bar who were obviously on the prowl. “Tonight is on me, you know. I owe both of you for your help.”
“We were glad to do it,” Erik replied, reaching out to hold Kevin’s hand on the tabletop.
“That means a lot to me.” Zach turned his attention to their server, a good-looking young man in a tight black T-shirt and heavy eyeliner.
After they’d ordered their drinks, Kevin nudged Zach’s knee under the table. “Hey! I think that guy by the bar is checking you out. He’s not bad!”
Zach tried not to be too obvious about peeking at the man. He found a powerfully built blond with piercing blue eyes looking at him, and when Zach met his gaze, the man gave a predatory smile that made Zach shiver.
“I don’t think he’s my type at all. He’s a bit scary-looking, don’t you think?”
Erik chuckled and shook his head. “I think that’s your nerves talking, dude. You need to relax.”
The waiter returned with their drinks, and Zach picked his up—a rum and Coke—and took a deep drink, then almost choked.
“Wow, that’s strong,” he said hoarsely, setting the glass down on the table.
“It’ll help loosen you up,” Kevin replied. He had ordered a margarita, and he licked salt from the rim of the glass before taking a sip. “Don’t worry, we’ve got your back. We won’t let anyone kidnap you.”
Zach drew in a deep breath, then took another drink. If the blond decided to talk to him, he’d definitely need the fortification.
“He’s still watching you,” Erik reported. “He’s not so bad, if you like the toppy type. He probably has a room full of paddles and whips at home.”
Zach couldn’t bring himself to look at the blond again. “Do you think he’ll come over?”
“Maybe.” Kevin grinned. “D
on’t panic.”
“I wasn’t going to panic,” Zach lied. “Much.”
He was working himself up to smiling at his possible admirer when the phone in his back pocket vibrated. He pulled it out and looked at the screen, and he groaned with dismay when he saw the message.
“It looks like the DA’s office has finally decided to offer a plea deal on the Harris case, and the big boss isn’t answering his phone,” Zack told his friends. “Since I’m low man on the totem pole, I get to go pick up the paperwork and carry it to Caldwell’s house for him to look over.”
“Are you kidding?” Kevin looked affronted on Zach’s behalf. “Right now?”
“Yeah, right now.” Zach sighed. “Sorry about this, guys, but you know how work is.”
Kevin frowned. “Do you think it will take long? We could wait for you here.”
“I’m not sure.” Zach considered, then shook his head. “Better not hang around on my account, since it might take a couple of hours if I have to run paperwork back and forth.” He slid off his stool, pulled out his wallet, and dropped some cash on the table. “You guys have fun, though, okay? Maybe we can try again next weekend?”
“We’ll hold you to that,” Erik said, wagging a stern finger at him. “You need to put yourself out on the market. First step is the hardest.”
“That’s true.” Zach picked up his drink and drained the remainder. “Okay, I’m off to do my duty. I bet you Caldwell isn’t even home, but I don’t want to risk getting chewed out for not doing everything in my power to make sure he knows about the offer as soon as possible.”
Erik and Kevin nodded in understanding; one advantage of having other lawyers as friends was they could sympathize with the long and strange hours the job often required. Zach headed for the exit, all thoughts of his potential admirer driven from his mind as he considered what he would say to Asher Caldwell if the man was home. They’d never been formally introduced, and he didn’t want to make a bad first impression, but he’d probably get tongue-tied or stumble over his words like an idiot.