by Ari McKay
“I’m not going to ask what happened last night,” Martha said as she returned to the kitchen. She placed two envelopes next to his barely touched plate. One was large and thick with papers, and the other was the envelope with the payment Asher had left in the foyer. The money was still inside.
“What’s this?” Asher asked as he pulled the unfamiliar manila envelope closer.
“Your visitor brought it with him. He left it on the table in the sitting room,” Martha replied before picking up his coffee cup and carrying it to the pot to refill.
Frowning, Asher opened the envelope and pulled out the contents—and an icy ball of dread formed in his stomach when he realized they were documents pertaining to one of his cases. Somehow he’d mistaken an employee from Caldwell and Monroe for an escort and taken him to bed. Visions of a sexual harassment lawsuit rose up in his mind, but the guy had had plenty of chances to say no along the way, and he hadn’t. He’d seemed quite willing, in fact.
But even if Asher couldn’t be accused of taking advantage of an employee, he had fucked a colleague under unusual circumstances. At the very least, he owed the guy an apology… and if he were honest, he wanted to see his mystery man again, even though it was an even worse idea now than it had been when he thought the guy was an escort. He grabbed his phone and called his personal assistant. Someone at the firm knew who was low enough on the totem pole to serve as errand boy on a Friday night.
“Pam, I need you to find out who was sent to deliver the Harris case files to my house last night. I need a name and contact info as soon as possible.”
“On it, boss man.”
All he could do was wait until she got back to him with the information, but he was too antsy to sit still, so he went back to his bedroom to get dressed. By the time he shaved, brushed his teeth, and dressed in a weekend-casual outfit consisting of designer jeans and a thick cobalt blue cabled sweater over a white long-sleeved T-shirt, he had an email from Pam.
Zach Richardson.
The name sounded vaguely familiar, but Asher couldn’t have put a face to it prior to the night before. Now, however, he knew quite a lot about Zach Richardson’s face—and most of his other body parts as well.
The email included a phone number as well as an address, and Asher considered calling, but he thought this conversation needed to be face-to-face. A phone call was too impersonal for the apology he needed to make, and he thought it might be best if he didn’t give Zach advance notice of his arrival, just in case Zach decided to bolt.
He called his driver, Parker, and within ten minutes, he was on his way to Zach’s place, which was located in an area popular with young professionals. He wasn’t sure how long he’d be, so he told Parker he’d call when he was ready to return home. Ignoring the nervous roiling of his stomach, he climbed the steps and buzzed Zach’s unit.
There was no answer for at least a minute, and he’d started to think Zach wasn’t at home when the speaker crackled to life. “Yes?”
“Zach? It’s Asher Caldwell. I’d like to talk to you.”
Again there was silence, and then the door to the building buzzed as the lock was released. He’d cleared one hurdle, although Asher wasn’t anywhere near relaxed. The worst part was yet to come. He found the elevator and headed up to Zach’s floor, and all too soon, he was in front of Zach’s door. He knocked, hoping he hadn’t come all this way only to have Zach slam the door in his face. As much as he might deserve it, he wanted to talk face-to-face, not face-to-door.
The door opened, but the man on the other side bore little resemblance to the one Asher had met the previous night. His dark hair was tousled, his eyes were a soft brown behind glasses rather than the clear blue they had been, and his face looked pale and drawn. Zach was dressed in a baggy Princeton sweatshirt and black sweatpants, and he wouldn’t meet Asher’s gaze.
“Please come in,” Zach said, stepping back so Asher could enter.
“Thank you.” Asher fought the inexplicable urge to wrap his arms around Zach and bury his fingers in Zach’s mussed hair.
Last night, Zach had been the perfect hot package, but today he was someone Asher could curl up on the couch and share the Sunday paper with. A vision of Zach settled on one end of Asher’s couch, knees pulled up and a cup of coffee in his hand, materialized in Asher’s mind, and it was vivid enough to stagger him. For some reason, his imaginary Zach had baggy wool socks, and he was almost frightened by how much he wanted to see that image in reality.
“I owe you a huge apology,” he said. “I had no idea you work at the firm.”
“I figured that out,” Zach said, his voice sounding raw. He cleared his throat. “I have a letter of resignation ready and signed, if you want it.”
Asher shook his head, dismayed at the thought of having upset Zach so much that he wanted to leave the firm. “I don’t want you to resign, not unless you’re too uncomfortable around me to work there anymore.”
Zach drew in a shuddering breath. “I don’t want to leave, no, but I’d rather resign than be fired. I knew you’d figure out what happened, and I considered the possibility you’d think I’d done it deliberately and want me gone.”
“No, this was my mistake, not yours.” Asher wasn’t sure if a touch would be welcome, but he wanted to offer some kind of reassurance, so he squeezed Zach’s shoulder briefly. “How could you have planned it? No one other than my housekeeper and the escort service knows what I do.”
Zach went rigid when Asher touched him, but he didn’t pull away. “All right.” He swallowed hard. “It was my mistake as well. I should have known better.”
Asher frowned, puzzled by that response. “What do you mean?”
Zach glanced up, seeming surprised by the question, but then he looked away with an awkward shrug. “I’m not the kind of man who would attract you. I should have known it couldn’t be real.”
Asher was affronted not only on his own behalf, but Zach’s as well. He couldn’t believe Zach underestimated his own appeal so much. “Do you seriously think I faked it last night?” he asked. “Yes, I thought you were an escort, but I’ve turned away escorts that I didn’t feel any chemistry with and vice versa. Believe me, I enjoyed every minute of licking my way up your long, sexy legs. I haven’t had anyone respond to me the way you did in years, and I liked it so much, I called the service this morning because I wanted to ask for you again.”
Surprisingly, Zach’s stoic facade cracked, and he flinched away as though Asher had slapped him. “Don’t!” he ground out, his voice ragged. “Just don’t. You’ve been in the same room with me and never noticed me before. It wasn’t me you wanted.” He looked up, his expression pained. “You never once said my name. Did you even remember it once I’d told you?”
“No.” Asher hated to admit it, but he suspected lying to Zach about anything—even if it hurt—would make things worse. “I didn’t think I needed to because I didn’t plan to see you again. I didn’t plan on wanting to see you again, but I did. I still do.” He blew out a sharp breath and scrubbed his face with one hand. “I can’t believe I’ve never noticed you at work before. I mean, I don’t trawl for dates at work, but I’m not blind, and you’re definitely my type—even more so with brown eyes instead of blue.”
A flush stole over Zach’s cheeks, the brief flash of temper fading into resignation. “It’s not your fault for never noticing me. No one ever does.” He lowered his gaze to the floor. “Last night… well, that wasn’t really me. Some friends gave me a makeover and took me to a club, because I haven’t been out on a date in a long time. That’s where I was when I got called to bring you the plea deal. I should have come home and changed before going to your apartment. If I’d looked like I normally do—like this—I’m sure you wouldn’t have mistaken me for a prostit—” He stumbled over the word, and his blush deepened. “I mean, an escort.”
It was Asher’s turn to blush. He’d never felt ashamed of relying on paid companionship, because it suited his needs, but maybe his av
oidant behavior was just as bad in its own way as his father’s philandering. Then again, he’d never broken up any families by hiring escorts.
“You didn’t bring any of this on yourself because of how you were dressed,” Asher said. “It’s all on me. I saw a hot, sexy guy waiting for me, and I made an assumption because I was expecting an escort. I should have asked more questions when I realized you were so different from the other guys.” He paused, studying Zach. “You’d still be hot in a suit, though, with that haircut and those big brown eyes. I really don’t know how I never noticed you before.”
“I still can’t believe you thought I looked sexy and took me to bed.” Zach glanced at Asher through his lashes. “I want you to know I don’t…. I mean I haven’t…. Um.” He drew in a deep breath, assuming the persona of a lawyer facing a judge. “You’re the first person I’ve slept with in a long time. I’m glad you don’t want me to leave the firm, but maybe I should recuse myself from the Harris case, because I don’t want things to be awkward at work for either of us.”
Something within Asher rebelled at the thought of Zach putting distance between them, and the thought that he wanted more of Zach’s company scared the hell out of him. Asher had been careful not to put himself in situations where he might form romantic attachments, but now he wanted the very thing he’d tried so hard to avoid.
He didn’t have to act on this unexpected desire, of course. He could let Zach recuse himself from the case and make sure they had minimal opportunities to cross paths at work—and the dismay he felt at the mere thought told him how different this situation was from anything he’d experienced before. He’d felt a sense of peace and connection with Zach last night that he’d never experienced with anyone else. He’d allowed himself to relax in Zach’s arms, however briefly, and he’d felt safe doing so. Seeking more of that connection was potentially dangerous, but perhaps it would be worth the risk.
“I’d rather you didn’t,” he said, stepping closer and clasping Zach’s hand loosely. “I’d like to see more of you, not less.”
Zach’s brown eyes were wide behind his glasses, and his expression was vulnerable. “Do you mean dating or something else?”
Asher felt like he was standing on the edge of a precipice, about to hurl himself into a terrifying unknown situation, and he could only hope he wasn’t making a huge mistake in going against his protective instincts.
“I mean dating,” he said. “I felt a connection last night. Didn’t you?”
“Yes.” Zach’s voice was deep and soft, and the look of genuine desire that Asher saw last night was back. “I suppose we could date, if that’s what you want. I won’t hold it against you if you decide I’m not your type after the first date.”
“Or you decide I’m not your type,” Asher replied. “Commitment-phobic workaholics aren’t great catches.”
Zach seemed surprised at the admission, and he smiled slightly. “Self-awareness is a necessity for someone to be my type, if that helps.”
Asher chuckled, relieved his admission hadn’t turned Zach off already. “I’m aware of my flaws,” he said. “I always thought it was kinder not to inflict them on someone else.”
“I’m sure there are compensations,” Zach replied. “In the interest of full disclosure, I should admit I’ve also been accused of being a workaholic. I’m not wild about big crowds, and I’ve been called boring before. Mostly because I don’t talk unless I have something I consider worth saying.”
“As far as I’m concerned, that’s an asset, not a drawback,” Asher said, giving Zach’s fingers a light squeeze before releasing them. “I’m sure we’ll find things we don’t like about one another. The question will be whether any of those things are deal breakers. You’re just as likely as I am to realize the reality of dating me doesn’t live up to the idea of it and decide to break it off.”
Zach hesitated, as if he were going to deny Asher’s words, but then he shrugged. “I suppose you’re right. All right, we can go out. I do have one condition, however, and it’s not negotiable.” He met Asher’s gaze directly. “I would appreciate it if you didn’t hire any escorts while we’re dating, however long it lasts. If that’s not acceptable, I’d prefer not to waste my time or yours.” He smiled slightly. “In return, I promise I won’t use that type of service myself, and I won’t put myself in a position to be mistaken for an employee of one.”
“But you’ll wear those tight jeans again, won’t you?” Asher asked. The sight of Zach’s long legs in those jeans was one of the hottest things he’d ever seen.
“I’m willing to wear them for you,” Zach said, blushing again, but this time from pleasure rather than embarrassment. “If you want me to.”
“I definitely want you to,” Asher replied. “Meanwhile, I agree not to have sex with anyone other than you until or unless we break up. It’s a reasonable request, and I don’t have a problem with honoring it.”
Zach nodded, seeming pleased. “When do you want to go out and where?”
“That depends,” Asher said, mulling over the idea of where to take Zach on their first date. An extravagant dinner wouldn’t be difficult to arrange because he had plenty of strings he could pull, but he didn’t want Zach to feel overwhelmed or think Asher was showing off. “What do you like to do? I’ve never really dated before, so I’m open to suggestions.”
“I haven’t dated in a long time myself,” Zach reminded him. “What do you like to do outside of work? I enjoy a lot of things. Action movies with buff guys in tight outfits. Musicals on Broadway. Art exhibits, as long as it isn’t too out-there. But if you want to stay in, eat pizza, and watch old movies, I’m good with that, too.”
“I don’t do that much outside of work,” Asher confessed with a wry smile. “There are social functions I have to attend because I’m one of the public faces of Caldwell and Monroe, but I work long hours and still end up taking work home with me. My friends are just as busy as I am, plus they have families, so I don’t hang out with the guys like I used to.”
He thought about his college days, when he’d enjoyed more freedom and less responsibility, and he’d been able to spend time with his friends, playing pool and drinking beer. But they’d all grown up and shouldered adult responsibilities and no longer had as much time for each other, he thought wistfully. Being the perpetual bachelor meant he didn’t fit in at backyard cookouts at beachfront summer homes or at cocktail parties where the conversations centered around which private schools were the most beneficial to a child’s future career.
He shook off that depressing line of thought and mustered a smile. “Do you have a preference about whether our first date is out in public or more private?”
“How about more private? It would give us a chance to talk.”
Asher thought that was probably a good idea, considering how this whole thing had gotten started. “Do you have plans for tonight?”
“No….” Zach seemed startled, but he took a deep breath. “What did you have in mind?”
“No sense in waiting until next weekend if we’re both free, right?” Asher offered a reassuring smile. “Why don’t you come by my place tonight around seven? I’ll cook dinner for you, and we can have some quiet time and get to know each other.”
“You cook?” Zach asked. “That would be cool. I’m not much of a cook myself, so I’m impressed.”
“I enjoy cooking when I have the time,” Asher replied. “Anyway, I’ll see you at seven. Dress comfortably—although I won’t object if you wear those jeans again,” he added with a little smirk.
Zach smiled in return. “Maybe I will,” he replied. “But you’ll have to wait and see.”
“So I will.” Asher considered kissing Zach on the cheek, but he thought it might be too soon. Silly, perhaps, to balk at a simple kiss when they’d already slept together, but he wanted to make sure Zach was comfortable with their new dynamic first. “I’ll see you tonight.”
“Thanks for coming,” Zach said, smiling. “I had an awf
ul night, imagining the worst, but you made it better. I appreciate the apology, but I never expected you to want to go out with me!”
Asher hadn’t expected it either, but he couldn’t deny his desire to see more of Zach was real. “Let’s just say last night was a surprise for both of us,” he said as he headed to the door.
“Shall I bring anything?” Zach asked, as he followed in Asher’s wake. “Wine? Beer? Dessert?”
“Just bring yourself.” Asher turned and decided to take a risk. He reached out and trailed his forefinger along Zach’s cheek. “That’ll be enough.”
Zach’s eyes widened, and he leaned into the touch as though instinctively seeking more. “All right,” he replied, sounding breathless.
The response made Asher smile, pleased the case of mistaken identity hadn’t made Zach angry and distrustful. He was tempted to offer more, but that might be dangerous, and besides, he had a menu to plan and some groceries to order. Instead, he said goodbye and let himself out, and he occupied himself during the ride home by thinking about what would be appropriate to serve on a first date.
Chapter Three
ONCE AGAIN Zach stood in front of Asher Caldwell’s door, and the difference in circumstances was almost surreal.
“This is crazy,” he said under his breath.
For something he wanted so much, he’d flip-flopped over whether to show up for his date with Asher. When he’d fled Asher’s apartment the night before, he’d been ready to die of embarrassment. He had braced himself to be fired or at least politely asked to leave Caldwell and Monroe. He hadn’t expected both an apology and Asher showing interest in getting to know him better. But even though Asher had seemed sincere, a cynical, insecure part of Zach whispered Asher was doing it to keep Zach from suing him or revealing his secret vice, because if Asher was going to notice Zach, he would have done so before. He wasn’t proud of that little voice, born during his years in the DA’s office after seeing an ugly, manipulative side of human nature.