by Hayes, Lane
I smiled and motioned for him to look at the screen only to find him mimicking the silly expression he’d worn in the picture.
“A lifetime of this, eh?” I asked in a sappier tone than I intended.
“Oh yeah,” he smirked, waggling his brow.
I loved that he always seemed to know how to make me smile. Zane was a beautiful man. Inside and out. His aviator glasses and jean jacket added a bad boy element that made my heart skip a beat. And when the sunlight glinted off the platinum band on his left hand, I had to remind myself to breathe. This happened. He was my husband and fuck, that word wasn’t one I’d ever thought could be mine. My nostrils flared as I fought back tears. I’d been riding an emotional roller coaster for a solid year. I hoped ten days in Bora Bora would help ease me back to a neutral state without erasing the incredible high I felt just being near him.
Zane removed his sunglasses and set his left hand over mine. “Hey. You okay?”
I nodded. “Yeah. I have this funny feeling we’re at the starting line. It feels overwhelming and scary but amazing at the same time. Do you feel it too, or am I suffering from stress, sleep deprivation, and an emotional and alcohol-induced hangover?”
Zane squeezed my hand and nodded. “I feel it too, but there’s nothing to be afraid of. I’ve got you and I won’t let you go. This is for always.”
I was too choked up to respond, but words were no longer necessary. He knew I felt the same way. And when a voice on the overhead speaker announced our flight was boarding, I had a sudden piercing awareness of the fragility of time. The way it moved too fast and slowed at random intervals. This was one of those slow-motion moments I’d never forget. The bags at our feet, the plane ready to jet us to a faraway destination, and my best friend at my side, reminding me to lean into love. Always.
Leaning Into The Fall
Nick Jorgensen is a quirky genius. He's made a fortune in the competitive high tech field with his quick mind and attention to detail. He believes in hard work and trusting his gut. And he believes in karma. It’s the only thing that makes sense. People are difficult, but numbers never lie. In the disastrous wake of a broken engagement to an investor’s daughter, Nick is more certain than ever he isn’t relationship material.
Wes Conrad owns a thriving winery in Napa Valley. The relaxed atmosphere is a welcome departure from his former career as a high-rolling businessman. Wes’s laid-back nature is laced with a fierceness that appeals to Nick. In spite of his best intention to steer clear of complications, Nick can’t fight his growing attraction to the sexy older man who seems to understand him. Even the broken parts he doesn’t get himself. However, when Wes’s past collides with Nick’s present, both men will have to have to decide if they’re ready to lean into the ultimate fall.
Chapter 1
“No great mind has ever existed without a touch of madness.”—Aristotle
Something important was on the computer screen. Words telling me where to go and who I was scheduled to meet with that day. At least, that’s what I assumed. I wanted to blame my inability to decipher them on the sun’s glare. Someone really should have closed the blinds in my office; it was so bright. And that buzzing noise was irritating as hell. I blocked out the light and sound with practiced ease and concentrated on the equations stacked one on top of the other in my mind like a holographic chalkboard. A variable was missing. One single component that would crack the fucker open. I was on the verge of a major breakthrough if I could just—
“Nick? Finn Gallagher from the…”
I started as I glanced up at my worried-looking secretary. It took serious effort to grasp the meaning of her words. They hung in the air like a hummingbird, hovering with purpose and flitting about in a zigzag formation, demanding attention. The insistent ripple of words broke my reverie and flooded my headspace, effectively chasing the string of numbers away to be solved at a later time.
“It’s so bright in here,” I mumbled as I swiveled my chair toward the windows.
Barb was already across the room, armed with the remote control she’d picked up from the edge of my desk. The blinds lowered magically from a hidden panel above the panes of glass. I closed my eyes for a moment as my vision adjusted and my synapses rewired, making human interaction a possibility. Caffeine would do the trick too.
“I refilled it when I came in,” she said, pointing at the cup next to my elbow.
I grinned like a fool and jumped out of my chair to wrap her in a bear hug. “You know me better than I do. Marry me, Barb. I need help.”
She swatted me away, giggling like a schoolgirl. “You’re incorrigible, Nick. As tempting as your offer sounds, you know my husband wouldn’t approve. And I’m old enough to be your mother.”
It was an old joke. Barb Patterson had been my personal secretary since my best friend, Eric, and I started our network security firm almost six years ago in a tiny office a few streets away. We used to bump into each other and trip over wires in our haste to get from one end to the other of our original three-room space with its tacky worn carpet and low, yellow-stained ceilings. What a difference a few years made. EN Tech was an internationally respected force in the tech industry with offices around the globe. The eco-friendly, state-of-the-art Silicon Valley complex we built a few miles away from our humble start was headquarters now. In a relatively short time, we’d reached a pinnacle of success beyond expectation.
That wasn’t true. I’d expected success. According to my calculations, it was a given—it was simply a matter of timing. Either way, I was grateful to have loyal employees like Barb who’d stuck with EN Tech through thick and thin. She had taken the job as receptionist to keep herself busy once her youngest kid left for college and thankfully, she’d never left. Barb was a pretty woman with short blonde hair in her early fifties. She was motherly and kind and extremely well organized.
I shrugged good-naturedly and swiped a hand through my wavy dark hair. “I don’t think that’s possible. You don’t look a day over thirty.”
“Thank you, dear. Your client is waiting in the small conference room. Shall I tell him you’re on your way?”
“Gallagher. Uh…right. The reseller who wants EN Tech to cut him a deal so he can turn around and fleece his customers. Fucker. Eric left me notes on this, didn’t he?”
“Yes. They’re filed under ‘What Not to Say’ in your in-box,” Barb said with an indulgent half smile. “I’ll offer Mr. Gallagher another cup of coffee while you study your notes.”
“Good idea. Oh hey, Barb?” She stopped in the doorway and waited for me to continue. “On a scale of one to ten, how mad will Eric be if I call him on his honeymoon?”
“Ten,” she replied without hesitation. “You’ve already called twice. Don’t worry. You’ve got this. But I do suggest you take care of the boxes in his office before he gets back next week.”
I wasn’t sure what boxes she was referring to, and I didn’t bother asking. Knowing Barb, I could count on another timely reminder. I turned back to my computer and pulled up Eric’s email, chuckling at my business partner’s dry sense of humor. The entire page was filled with homespun advice that might be found in a dummy’s guide entitled How to Get Along with People: Be polite. Don’t swear. Make eye contact and sustain it, but don’t be creepy. I wanted to laugh, but it wasn’t bad advice. Besides, everyone knew how EN Tech worked. I was the CEO. Eric was President. Our titles roughly translated to idea-man and the-guy-in-charge-of-communicating-said-ideas-in-a-much-nicer-way-than-the-CEO-was-capable-of-doing-on-his-own.
Eric and I started EN Tech the year we graduated from Stanford. I’d already had multiple patents filed and was anxious to begin implementing them on a bigger scale. My dream was to build the ultimate high-speed network security firm: the virtual world’s version of a badass police force whose job was to protect giant firms from becoming vulnerable to cyber attack. I didn’t want to just be one of the premier choices—I wanted our firm to be the only sound solution.
Talkin
g Eric Schuster into joining me on my quest to rule this sector of the tech world was the smartest thing I’d ever done. Eric was masterful at the art of delivering a powerful message. I remembered seeing him in action at debate rallies when we were still in school and thinking I needed someone like him to make my dream a reality. We’d become good friends our junior year, so it wasn’t exactly a hard sell. He was the kind of guy who’d literally give his friends the shirt off his back. Plus, he had a crush on me.
But that was years ago. Now he was a married man. Very newly married. I picked up my cell and stared at his number. I shouldn’t do it, I thought. He was gonna kill me. Or Zane would. I hesitated for a second more before pressing Send.
“You have one minute. Make it good,” Eric growled.
“How’s Bora Bora?”
“Nick. This is the third time you’ve called. What the hell could be so fucking important it couldn’t wait ’til Tuesday?”
Eric’s voice had a sexed-out raspy quality. He might not appreciate the honeymoon interruption, but it sounded like I’d caught him at a good time. I knew from personal experience Eric was at his most cooperative post-sex.
“The sexy Irish reseller is here. Before I meet him in the conference room and make inappropriate overtures, I figured I should check in with you. Why is that a bad idea again?”
Eric let out a comically long sigh. “Business, Nick. This is business. And Gallagher is the one we’re pretty sure is involved in something fishy with Norm Wilson.”
“So he’s the enemy.”
“We don’t know about Gallagher, but we do know Norm is our competition for the Byzantine contract. He’s an asshole. And he’s good buddies with Don.”
“Don?”
“Your almost father-in-law? Geez, have you been in the lab all day?”
“Yeah and Eric…I’m so close. We’re one variable away from the patent that will launch us to the next level. I can feel it.”
“That’s awesome. That could be our selling point to secure the Byzantine deal. Hey, I’m proud of you, but listen to me. Are you listening?”
“Yeah. What’s up?”
“Your single-mindedness is a blessing and a curse. I know how you get when you’re in this mode. Set the big ideas aside for now, and go deal with Gallagher.”
“Got it. I’m having a friendly conversation, and I’m not going to drool when he starts talking, correct?”
“Yes. Conversation only. No drooling. You can do it. Just don’t get too technical, and don’t stare at him.”
“Can I stare at his ass?” I asked in a faux-serious voice.
Eric groaned. “I swear to God, Nick. This isn’t a big deal. You’re going to say no when he asks for another discount. And don’t talk about Norm or Byzantine, but if he brings either up, take note. You can’t blow it. Unless of course, you offer to blow him.”
I chuckled as I stood and moved to the door, stopping to check my reflection. My hair was longer than I liked, but no one looked bad in an Armani suit, I mused as I adjusted my tie. The subtle hint of blue complemented my gray eyes. Something I probably wouldn’t have noticed if it wasn’t obvious.
“Got it. Tell Zane I said hi.”
“I better not. He’s already pissed at you for being a multiple-phone-call offender. But do me a favor.”
“Anything you want, Er.” I opened the door and stopped in front of Barb’s desk to grab the last-minute notes I needed for my meeting.
“Make sure the ten cases of wine you had deposited in my office are gone when I get back next week. See ya.”
“Huh?” I furrowed my brow when he disconnected the call, then glanced toward Eric’s office at the far opposite corner of the contemporary-style executive floor. “What wine?”
“The wine you ordered for your wedding before you called it off. This is the fourth time the winery has returned your delivery,” Barb responded. She handed me a file and cast her gaze meaningfully toward the small conference room where my guest awaited.
“My wedding. I don’t get it.”
“Don’t worry. You didn’t go through with it,” Barb assured me.
“I broke up with Lisa in January. It’s October now. Why won’t that asshole take the damn wine back? It’s not like it went bad.”
“You had the labels personalized.”
“And he can’t make new ones?”
Barb shook her head and gave me a worried look. With good reason. I wasn’t known for my interpersonal skills, and I was at my most dangerous when I was agitated. It wasn’t intentional, but I got sidetracked at inopportune times and couldn’t always find politically correct words when I needed them. I let out a put-upon sigh and cautioned myself to relax and refocus. Meeting first. Wine second. Then lab. I repeated the chant a couple more times in my head before swiping my free hand through my hair again and moving toward the small conference room.
“Finn. It’s nice to see you.”
Finn Gallagher was maybe an inch shorter than my own six foot three, but he had a sturdier build reminiscent of a linebacker or a lumberjack. He had short light brown hair, pleasing even features, gorgeous hazel eyes, and a sexy smile. I returned his grin and offered my hand in greeting when he stood.
“Hello, Nick! It’s grand to see you again. I thought I’d be meeting with Eric. I’d forgotten he was recently married. Tell me…was it lovely?”
That accent was…wow. There really wasn’t anything hotter than an Irish accent. No wonder I’d thought this little chat might be challenging. I nodded as we took our seats at the sleek round table and cautioned myself not to stare at his full lips when he spoke.
“It was beautiful. The ceremony and reception were at the Tiburon Yacht Club last weekend.”
Finn inclined his head as though he was expecting details. I wasn’t sure what else to report. The grooms wore black? The flowers were autumnal shades of orange and red? The weather cooperated, and Eric got the indoor-outdoor wedding he’d wanted? This was where my social skills petered out. I opened the file and glanced unseeing at the notes.
“Where did they go on their honeymoon?” he inquired politely.
“Bora Bora. They’ll be home next week,” I responded shortly. “I understand you wanted to discuss cutting some sort of deal on the next gen product line.”
Finn arched his brow and gave me a lopsided grin. He was clearly amused by my sharp segue. “Yes. That’s correct.”
“What kind of cut are you looking for?”
“Twenty-five percent.”
I huffed derisively and allowed myself the luxury of really staring at him for the first time since I’d entered the conference room. I shouldn’t have. Finn’s affable demeanor seemed to shift under my gaze; he looked slightly menacing. And fuck, that turned me on. I had a sudden desire to lunge across the table, grab him by his tie, and stick my tongue down his throat. I knew Finn was also bi and unattached. No harm, no foul. I bet I could have him bent over this table, begging me to fuck him in five minutes or less. When he licked his bottom lip and narrowed his eyes, I knew he felt it too. He wanted me to make the first move. He was waiting for it. The familiar crackle of electricity buzzed through the room…just as my cell buzzed in my pocket, ripping me from the erotic spell.
I didn’t bother pulling my phone out—it had done its job. The last thing I needed was a message from Eric reminding me to stay on task and ideally, not to do anything stupid. EN Tech was my firm, and it was my product Finn was proposing to resell, but succumbing to a momentary lapse in judgment would give him all the leverage, which undoubtedly was what he’d been counting on. One lesson I’d learned well in life was that everyone had an angle. Including the sexy Irishman.
I shook my head ruefully. “Sorry, Gallagher. That’s a little steep.”
His expression softened to a more business-appropriate look. “Twenty.”
“How is that advantageous to me?”
“I know Franz Van de Velde at Byzantine. I can help you.”
I leaned forward in
my chair and studied him like a bug under a microscope. He didn’t look quite as attractive this close-up. “Why do I get the impression you said the exact same thing to Norm Wilson? You know he’s our biggest competition for that bid.”
“Everyone knows it, Nick. It’s business,” he said, leaning forward on his elbows. “You build networks. I shouldn’t have to tell you how important it is to take advantage of connections and networking, shall we say…in the workspace? I’d be remiss not to offer my help in return for yours.”
Was it my imagination or had his accent faded? The melodic lilt was far less pronounced now. He was in deal-maker mode. This was Eric’s realm. He exceeded in the art of debate because he was non-confrontational. He had a knack for finding mutually beneficial solutions without creating waves. Me? Not so much.
If I was going to do any wheeling and dealing, I should concentrate on unloading the fuckton of alcohol that served to remind me of my last unsuccessful attempt at melding a business-slash-personal relationship. I ran my hand through my hair again and frowned. I was done here.
“Right. Well, I’ll let Eric know what you have in mind when he gets back next week. He can help you better than I can. Thanks for coming by, Finn.”
I stood abruptly and opened the door. Finn didn’t move for a long moment. I was sure he was trying to figure me out. Good fucking luck. He gave a short nod before gathering his belongings. Then he stopped in front of me and inched into my personal space like a feral cat sniffing potential prey.
“I think you can help me too, Nick. In fact, I’m rather sure of it. Take this.” He pushed a business card into my suit coat pocket and then stepped back. “I’ll be there Saturday night. Come by. We can continue our conversation in a more…comfortable environment.”
Our eyes locked in a heated stare for a long moment. Finn broke the connection with a slight tilt of his head, making sure to brush my shoulder as he moved through the doorway. I waited until he was gone then pulled the card from my pocket. My eyes widened in surprise. Damn. He was serious.