_Anthology - Mr. Right Now

by _Anthology

  Carol tilted her head to one side. “Or at least blown?” Rick snorted as he knelt down to fumble for a pair of shoes shoved toward the back of the closet ignoring Carol’s whistle at his upended rear. “Does your husband realize just what a potty mouth you get when you drink?”

  “I’m serious.” She smirked knowingly. “And for the record, my husband loves it when I get drunk and talk dirty to him.”

  Rick knelt back up, triumphantly waving a pair of dress shoes before he took a closer look and then threw them back into the closet. “Remember our discussion on too much information?”

  “I thought that was just for my trying to spark your libido with tales of my marital bliss?” Carol gestured imperiously. “Get those shoes back out here. If you don’t want them, do you think they’d fit Eddie?”

  “No,” Rick replied. “Honestly, that discussion covered pretty much anything you do that I don’t want to hear about.” “I’m telling you, here’s your chance to go and do something wild. Something crazy,” Carol enthused. “Something I can vicariously enjoy through you.”

  “I’m going to an educational conference with a bunch of pulmonary specialists, Carol. We’re not exactly known for being wild and crazy.” Rick signed mournfully.

  “So, like I said, here’s your chance. Go to the conference, give a kick-ass speech, and then celebrate by picking up someone totally unsuitable for any type of long-term commitment and have a hot kinky one night stand which you can tell me about later. Even better, you could call me and leave the phone on the nightstand so Eddie and I can listen.” Carol took a big swallow from her glass.

  “Meaningless sex always makes me feel better about myself. You should try it.” Carol winked at Rick before flopping back down on the pillow.

  “Other than the fact you married your one and only one night stand and the only meaningless sex you have now is married sex, you’re forgetting that one: I’m over thirty-five, and two: I happen to like long-term commitments. Brian and I were together for ten years, you know.” Rick sat on the edge of the bed and picked up Carol’s bare foot, idly rubbing at the sole as he spoke. “I’m just not the one night stand type.”

  “You thought you were in a long-term commitment. He thought he was just covering all his bases.” Carol wiggled on the pillows with a grateful sigh. “God, I love your hands.”

  “Wait a minute, what does being over thirty-five have to do with anything?” The wiggling stopped and she glared up at Rick. “Well, I was happy.” Rick’s hands paused as he ignored her glare. “At least, I thought I was happy when I thought we were happy.”

  “And I thought I was the one drinking?” Carol looked at her almost empty glass. “You realize that what you said makes no sense, don’t you?” Carol kicked her foot into his thigh to remind him what he was doing. “Time to get out there and experience life. Get back on the horse, or cock as your case may be.”

  “It’s been way too long for me.” Rick tickled her foot in punishment for her coarseness. “I don’t even know how to pick anyone up anymore. What would I say – Hi, I’m in town for the conference, want to fuck me?”

  “A trifle tacky, but the bold and upfront approach has been known to work.” Carol opened one eye and studied Rick carefully, admiring the contrast between his dark, tousled hair and his paler skin. “You’d be amazed where that may lead a looker like you.”

  “I shudder to think where you came by all your knowledge.” Rick grinned, unable to stay somber for long around Carol, one of the reasons they’d been friends for so long despite their difference in personalities. “Let’s face it. I was a nerd when I met Brian, I was a nerd while I was with Brian, and I’m still a nerd now that he’s left me.”

  “Don’t give me any of that. I saw that movie in the ’80s. What was it, Revenge of the Nerds? One of the world’s greatest truths about nerdhood was exposed there. Since nerds hardly ever get laid, they spend all their time thinking nasty, kinky thoughts and planning what they’ll do when they finally do get laid.” It was Carol’s turn to shrug. “Something kept Brian coming back for all those years, and I don’t just think it was your cooking skills.”

  Rick couldn’t help the flood of red that covered his face. “Is nerdhood even a word?” He threw himself back on the bed next to Carol to hide his embarrassment.

  “There’s a whole wildly kinky side to you that you just need to learn to express.” Carol nudged him with her elbow. “Want me to mix you a drink?”

  “No.” Rick just smiled forlornly. “Apart from the fact I have no desire to express my inner kink around you, I don’t want any of that champagne. I bought it last year to be sure I had some on hand for our anniversary.”

  “Oh, honey.” Carol patted his arm sympathetically. “If it helps, I never really liked Brian.”

  “I know.” Rick exhaled deeply. “But I did.” RICK straightened his tie and studied his appearance in the mirror, blind to the appeal of his deceptively lean frame and dark hair. The suit fit well enough, and Carol had been right, the subtle striping of the grey shirt added a classy touch. Not that she would know classy if it bit her on her pert and kick-boxed ass, but she did have an eye for style that put Rick’s to shame. So much for stereotypes.

  Rick had to smile as he thought of Carol. It was too bad she couldn’t come with him. Maybe then he wouldn’t be so nervous or spend his time thinking about Brian. It wasn’t giving the speech; he’d done that plenty of times now and he’d either met or knew most of those attending the conference. No, his lack of confidence was on a deeper level.

  His blue eyes darkened as Rick couldn’t help but wonder again just what or who Brian had found to occupy himself at last year’s conference or even the year before. At the time, he’d thought it was so sweet the way Brian would just give him a kiss and tell Rick not to worry about him being bored.

  Sure. Rick straightened his shoulders and tugged his cuffs of his suit coat down over his shirtsleeves one more time. Past was past and this was the present. His present. While Rick had always enjoyed being in a relationship, he never thought he was the type to need a man around to complete himself, so enough of this!

  He had a successful career, good friends, and an apartment which, if not as extravagant as the townhouse he and Brian had shared, was much more suited to his tastes. So, Carol was right. Time to move forward and put Brian and his hurtful behavior behind him.

  After making sure the door to his hotel room was locked, Rick headed down the hallway to the elevator, admiring the hotel’s décor on his way. The conference was in a Midwest casino/resort, and it really was an amazing place, all gleaming wood and tile with Native American accents. There was even a museum full of artifacts discovered during the construction and cultural exhibits regarding the area tribes. Maybe this year he’d get a chance to explore more of it.

  Brian had never cared for gambling and had sniffed disdainfully at the crowds playing slots, but Rick found the whole scene energizing and exciting. Tonight’s meet and greet was in one of the banquet rooms, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t slip away later and toss a few nickels away, maybe manage to strike up a conversation and have a few drinks.

  Carol was right once again. ( God, don’t ever let him tell her that.) He wasn’t a gargoyle, and there had to be some prestige in having his name and picture prominently displayed on the placards as one of the speakers for the conference. He could at least test the waters with some tentative flirting to psych himself up for the real thing when he got back home. Rick felt his longlost confidence stir within him.

  The chime had him moving forward reluctantly into the elevator and past the other occupants. Rick was surprised at the number of people jammed together – what was the weight limit again? The lobby button was already pressed so Rick settled with his back against the far wall, unable to disguise the small shudder than ran through him as the doors shut.

  He did not have a phobia, Rick told himself firmly. He just didn’t care for small spaces and he refused to give in and take the
stairs all the time. He just had to consider this a test of will and self-control.

  “Are you alright?” The voice was soft, pitched low enough that it didn’t reach anyone’s ears but Rick’s. His eyes flew open as he straightened away from the wall, embarrassed at having his reaction noticed.

  “What? Um..yeah, just tired, I guess.” Rick cursed the flush that he knew was creeping up over his cheeks; he’d never been able to stop that autonomic reflex.

  “But the night’s still young.” Was that a hint of suggestion in the slightly rough voice? Rick’s stunned gaze traveled slowly over the broad, flannel-covered shoulders of the man who stood directly in front of him. Contrary to conventional elevator etiquette, he wasn’t staring straight ahead at the closed doors pretending not to notice anyone; he was staring straight at Rick.

  Jonah smiled when the well-dressed man finally looked back at him, really seeing him, surprise evident in those big blue eyes. Jonah had spotted him as soon as he’d gotten on the elevator, long and lean, just the way Jonah liked a man. It was obvious he had no clue how attractive he really was.

  This guy was definitely not dressed for the conference, Rick thought as his eyes passed over the firm chest wearing a navy T-shirt, down the long, jean-clad legs to the dusty boots and back up again to meet dark and amused eyes. A strong face accented by gleaming hair pulled sleekly back and clasped at the neck completed the picture.

  Wow.

  Hot.

  Damn Smoking Hot.

  Rick had been wrong. He didn’t only want a long-term commitment, and he didn’t want to say “Hi, I’m in town for the conference, want to fuck me?” No, at that moment, Rick was struggling not to fall to his knees and blurt out “Please, I’ll give you anything you want if you just let me suck you.”

  “Late night, rough flight, you know. Traveling.” Rick tried not to stammer as he stared at the living wet dream in front of him and all thoughts of Brian faded from his mind like the other man had never existed. This man had to be straight; all the really hot ones always were in Rick’s limited experience.

  Rick felt his little bit of regained confidence drain away. He had to have imagined that bit of interest he thought he’d heard. Even if he was gay, no way would a guy this fine be anything more than polite to an average guy like Rick.

  Still, that didn’t mean he couldn’t look, and he could certainly fantasize. Rick was suddenly lightheaded as the blood pounding in his ears rushed to where his cock was telling him in no uncertain terms that oh yes, not only could he, he definitely would!

  Even as Rick struggled to pull his scattered thoughts back from the gutter where they had fallen with alarming speed, the elevator gave a small lurch, causing the occupants to gasp and giggle in reaction. Rick paled and reached out a hand to steady himself on the nearest surface, not realizing until he felt the heat and hard muscle beneath his grip that he’d grabbed the arm of the man in front of him.

  “Sorry about that!” Rick exclaimed, dropping his hand from the other man, who no matter how hot he looked, could still kick his ass into next week with minimal effort.

  “I’m not.” The self-assured voice was calm and almost lazy compared to Rick’s agitation. Jonah had to control his impulse to reach out and touch back. He was going to have to go slow here.

  Okay. Straight men do not respond that way to a touch from a stranger. Rick straightened to his full height and looked up into those dark eyes once again just as the elevator chimed and the doors opened.

  “Good thing you’re just tired and don’t have a problem with elevators.” To Rick’s surprise, Mr. Flannel Shirt continued to hang back as the other passengers began shuffling out. “The gal at the front desk told me they’ve been having intermittent problems with the elevators on and off all week.”

  Rick didn’t know what made him want to whimper more; the sight of that fine, jean clad ass walking out of the elevator into the lobby or the fact that his room was on the twenty-seventh floor.

  THE problem with pulmonary specialists was that they were basically pulmonary specialists and not flannel-wearing, long-haired gifts from the gods, Rick thought as he stood, drink in hand, with a small group of his peers in the banquet room, trying to forget about his brief encounter in the elevator.

  The drinks were flowing which was always a good thing; it helped scientists who spent most of their time alone in their labs with their research interact with other humans without more than the usual nervousness. But it also caused some of them to attempt to catch up on all the conversation they’d missed in the past eleven months in one weekend.

  And that was apparently a lot of conversation. Not that the subject matter wasn’t near and dear to Rick’s heart. It’s just that it was hard to focus on the use of the immune transcriptome to direct the development of monoclonal antibodybased strategies for the depletion of mast cells when all he could think about was the worn, white patches on a pair of blue jeans.

  That and just what exactly might have rubbed the fabric so repeatedly over time to make those intriguing worn patches. “So, uh, where’s your friend?” Rick brought his attention back to the man closest to him. That was Darrell. A nice enough guy, Rick thought, even if he couldn’t remember his last name. What Rick could remember was that he did solid research and published often. Darrell was blond, good-looking in an absentminded, glasses sliding down his nose kind of way, when Rick took a closer look at him.

  Rick met him four or five conferences ago, and they’d spent plenty of time together at meetings like these in the following years as casual acquaintances. Not only had Rick not given any thought to Darrell’s relative attractiveness during that time, but Rick hadn’t thought that Darrell paid enough attention to anything other than his work on asthmatic airway remodeling to realize he and Brian were together.

  Surprise. “I’m by myself this trip,” Rick answered, not really wanting to get into the whole yes-he-was-my-partner-and-yeswe’ve-broken-up thing.

  “Really?” There was almost a look of disappointment in Darrell’s eyes before it gave way to a surprised interest that gave Rick a momentary pause. Who would have thought? What else had Rick been missing over the last several years?

  “In that case… do… do… you think… you’d like to have dinner with me… once this breaks up, of course.” Darrell stammered a bit, but Rick was actually proud of the way the other man forced the words out. Rick definitely had to give him credit for effort. Granted, Darrell wasn’t up to Mr. Flannel Shirt standards, but in Rick’s mind, he wasn’t, either.

  “You know… to talk about your speech for tomorrow.” Darrell flushed and his knuckles were white where he gripped the glass in his hand.

  “Yeah,” Rick answered, smiling at Darrell sympathetically. He knew just how the other man felt. Not more than a few minutes ago in the elevator, actually. “Sure, I’d like that.”

  There, Rick thought smugly. He’d be able to report to Carol that he’d been open and amiable. Maybe then she’d get off his ass about getting back on the… horse. And the more time he spent interacting with real humans, well, okay, pulmonary specialists, this weekend, the less likely he was to moon over tall, dark, muscular strangers met in elevators.

  Elevators that were having intermittent problems this weekend, his inner coward reminded him.

  Shit. Rick drained the rest of his drink and touched Darrell’s arm lightly, ignoring the fact he didn’t feel the same heat or hardness under his hand that he had earlier with Mr. Flannel Shirt. “I’m going to get another drink. I’ll meet up with you later.”

  Darrell nodded, his expression pleased at Rick’s touch. Rick walked towards the bar, stopping and greeting several familiar faces on the way. He was really surprised at how many people asked him about Brian’s whereabouts. He didn’t think he’d introduced Brian to so many of his colleagues, but then they’d been to a lot of these conferences together.

  DINNER had been good, if filling, and Rick was now having a hard time keeping his eyes open. The casino had
a variety of restaurants, but Rick wasn’t comfortable with the expensive one Darrell had first chosen, so they’d gone to the prime rib buffet room instead. That might have been a mistake, Rick acknowledged as he ran a discreet finger around the waistband of his pants, seeking just a smidge of extra room.

  They had finished eating quite a while ago, and Rick had gracefully given in when Darrell insisted on putting the meal on his room tab. He was a little uncomfortable with Darrell’s apparent interest in him, but the conversation had flowed easily between them as colleagues with little other pressure, and Rick managed to relax a bit more.

  Darrell was nice enough and his attention was somewhat flattering, and if Rick had spent time noticing just how far and how often Darrell’s glasses slid down his nose before he pushed them back up, well, that was just being observant, right?

  Rick’s yawns had proceeded from discreet to overt as the day, the drinks, and the good food began to catch up with him. He really wanted to call it a night, but Darrell had been excited about the new direction his work had been going and continued talking, quite happy with his semi-captive and drowsy audience.

  “So, if we can validate the genes as asthma therapeutic targets, we can start with the discovery and testing of small molecule inhibitors.” Darrell waved his hands as he talked, knocking over his water glass in his enthusiasm and sending it cascading into Rick’s lap without a pause in his flow of words. “Target identification is only the first stage, but the long-term process will definitely lead to the development of new drugs.”

  Rick smiled when Darrell didn’t even notice the mishap, talk about being in a world of his own! He grabbed at his napkin and blotted at the mess the water made of his pants. He tried not to wriggle when the cool water got a little too close to his personal bits. Ugh, soggy, and for all the wrong reasons.