Ingenue's Choice (12 page)

Keir raised his head, grimly smiling. “I wish I could, but seeing all that blood at the scene and getting the news at the hospital that El was dead were only the beginning.”

God, what more could there be?

“His parents arrived a little after I did, his mother screeching that it was my fault, I had done this to her baby, and it should have been me.”

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Gracie C. McKeever

“No…”

Keir nodded. “Yeah. El’s mother especially wanted my head. Said I was a bad influence. She made me out to be this Svengali type who had corrupted her

‘good boy.’ The woman didn’t know the half of it.”

“What about El’s father?”

“He was less vocal, but I’m sure he would have accepted my balls on a platter without an argument if someone offered them to him. El was his only son.

“The thing is, for all his faults and all they’re blindness to his drug problems, El was their
child
. They loved him.”

“Did you?”

“At the time I thought I did, but I look back now and realize I felt sorrier for El than I loved him. And that’s not the kind of emotion I want to build a relationship on.”

What would Keir think if Patryk told him about Derek? Would he feel sorry for the poor deluded fool who let an older man, a
real
Svengali and twisted Dom, walk all over him? Would he think Patryk a weakling and turn away from him in disgust?

Patryk turned his back to spoon against Keir, pulling his arms around him as he snuggled close to Keir. He took the telltale hardness of an erection pressing against his ass as an encouraging, life-affirming sign that Keir was healing, not a sick twisted indication that discussing his dead lover had turned Keir on.

Keir bent his head to nibble Patryk’s ear and whispered, “You don’t hate me?”

“I could never hate you.”
I love you too much to ever hate you.

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Patryk jerked up his gaze just in time to see Dharma barge into his office, close the door behind her, and lock it.

“All right, give. What happened to you this weekend?”

“Who says anything happened to me other than you and Chaz dragging me off to
Zara’s
for my birthday?”

Fists on hips, Dharma marched to Patryk’s desk and took her customary seat on one corner of it. “You’ve got bags under your eyes, and you’ve been grinning all morning. You don’t fool me. You got fucked, well and good.”

“You certainly took a giant leap from smiling to fucking didn’t you?”

“Aw, c’mon. Help a girl live vicariously knowing that at least one of us is getting some.”

“What does Miss Manners say about fucking and telling?”

“Fuck Miss Manners.”

Patryk chuckled, closed the program he was working in, and leaned back in his swivel chair to face Dharma.

Keir had dropped him off at his door in the wee hours of that morning, branding him with a kiss on the lips that yet burned all the way to Patryk’s soul and made his head spin even more than it had been spinning the last seventy-two hours since he had met Keir.

Yep, he had been fucked well and good, but the bags under his eyes were from stress as well as sleepless nights of good loving.

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Gracie C. McKeever

Patryk was torn as to what his next move should be. His time with Keir had been both unforgettable and unsettling, but Patryk still wasn’t sure how he was going to proceed, or even if he wanted to.

“Oh, I can hear the gears turning, which means you’re either regretting what you did or your anticipating another assignation with the bartender. My bet’s on the latter.”

“Who says I was with Keir?”

“Puh-lease. You’re not the type to juggle men. And if you weren’t with Keir, then my guess is you weren’t with anyone. And that blush tells me otherwise.”

“I’m not going to get rid of you unless I toss out a bone, am I?”

“At least you know when to admit defeat.”

“Couldn’t get anything out of Chaz to quench your voyeuristic thirsts?”

“You must be kidding. Chaz is the king of TMI.”

“Yet, you’re here to dig into my affairs.”

“Chaz is porn, not emotionally fulfilling. You’re erotic romance.”

He wondered if she would feel the same way had she seen him and Keir in action yesterday. As liberated and sexually open as Dharma was, would she be scandalized or enchanted by his and Keir’s kinky antics?

“He’s a painter,” Patryk blurted and watched Dharma’s face take on a decidedly soft and whimsical look. “He painted my portrait yesterday.”

“See. Like I said. Romantic.” She sighed and leaned back on her palms, crossing one thigh over the other and swinging the top leg to and fro. “Tell me more.”

“He’s very talented.”

“I’ll bet.”

Patryk laughed. “I’m serious. He should be showing his stuff in galleries, except…”

“Except what?”

That was the big question.

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They hadn’t talked much about what Keir was going to do with his painting, except his wanting to spend the rest of his days painting Patryk. Aside from this being illogical, Patryk didn’t want the man to waste his talent any longer. Keir had wasted it enough feeling guilty over something that wasn’t his fault.

His work needed to be seen and be appreciated by more than just Patryk, but whenever Patryk brought it up, Keir shut down.

“So he’s one of those brooding and temperamental artist types who don’t believe in exploiting his talent for financial gain?”

“No, nothing like that.” Patryk wished it were that simple.

“What then?”

“He uh…” The phone rang and filled in his pause. Patryk eagerly grabbed the receiver. “Presidio and Hall.
Patryk Andrews.”

“Hey, baby, what’s up?”

“Oh, hey, Keir.” Patryk peered up at Dharma, who pantomimed that Patryk should put Keir on speaker. She placed her palms together, silently pleading.

“Are you busy?” Keir asked.

“Can you hold on for a sec?”

“Sure.”

Patryk put his hand over the mouthpiece and glared at Dharma. “A little privacy, please?”

Dharma slid off the desk and pouted as she walked to the door. “You’re no fun.”

Patryk chuckled and watched as she left and closed the door behind her.

Before he removed his hand from the mouthpiece, he took a couple of deep breaths to center himself. “I’m back. What’s up?”

“You free for lunch?”

“I’m, uh…”

Whatever he just asked, just say yes.

Oh fuck. Not her.

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Gracie C. McKeever

Don’t ignore me. I know you can hear me. And you don’t want me to come
out there.

Where the hell was she anyway besides in his head?

“If you can’t make it, just let me know. We’ll try to set something else up later.”

“No, I want to go to lunch with you. On one condition.”

“Ultimatums already?”

Patryk heard the good-natured tone in Keir’s voice, but didn’t think he would remain so nonchalant and good-natured once Patryk said what he wanted.

“Promise we’ll talk more about your painting.”

“I can’t make a promise like that.”

“Why not? We’ll just be talking.”

“Talking will lead to planning, and planning will lead to big disappointments.”

“It doesn’t have to be that way.”

“I know whom I’m dealing with. You’re not someone who does things halfway. You’ll want to throw yourself into getting my career back on track the way you think I deserve.”

“What’s wrong with that?”

“Plenty when
I’m
not ready to throw myself into it.”

“It doesn’t have to be today or tomorrow. We can ease you into things.

I’ve still got connections at MoMA, and I could talk to—”

“Patryk, just drop it!”

Patryk gaped for only a second before he lost his own temper. “Fine. I will.” He hung up before Keir could respond, then leaped to his feet to pace the length of his office.

Damn, how had he let things get out of hand like that?

He’d never hung up on anyone out of anger. He didn’t blow his top. He had seen where that got people, and it was never a good place.

Patryk paused in front of his desk and immediately felt a cuff upside his head. “Hey!”

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“What the hell was that about?” Zara demanded.

“None of your business.”

“It is my business. Now talk.”

Patryk was silent, heat rushing to his face at the enormity of what he’d just done.

“Okay, fine, I’ll take a stab and ask you this. Do you like to be manipulated, Pat?”

“That’s not what I was doing!” He watched as Zara appeared before him, her expression saying the contrary.

“You know as well as I do what you did was wrong and not the way to get what you want.”

“How do you know what I want?”

“It’s my job to know. You want Keir—in your life and in your bed.”

Chest tight, Patryk lowered his head.

Zara was right on all counts. He had acted no better than Elijah, not trusting a man he supposedly cared about to do the right things for himself.

And what was his excuse? Having good intentions wasn’t good enough, and he wasn’t addicted to drugs or needy, at least not according to Keir. But he had been manipulative.

“Oh God…”

Zara stood by his desk, arms folded across her breasts. “Now come over here and call him back to apologize.”

“Okay.” Patryk shuffled over to the phone and had his hand on the receiver when it rang. He checked the caller ID and snatched the receiver from its cradle. “Keir, before you say anything I just want to apologize. I had no right to corner you like that. It was wrong, and you have every right to hate me, but I hope you don’t.” Patryk paused and took a deep breath, listening to dead air and wondering what Keir was thinking. When Keir still hadn’t spoken after several long seconds, Patryk asked, “Keir, are you there?”

“And here I was calling to apologize to you.”

“For what?”

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Gracie C. McKeever

“Being unreasonable. Shutting you down.”

“I deserved it.”

“No. You didn’t.” Keir took a deep breath and Patryk could picture him running a palm over his long, detailed braids. “So, can you meet me for lunch?”

“Just tell me when and where.”

Keir did then said, “Patryk?”

“Yes?”

“I can’t make you any promises about what I’ll do. But I’ll listen to you.”

“That’s all I’m asking.”

* * * *

Keir sat back in his chair, floored by the intensity in Patryk’s eyes and voice and melting inside at the idea of all that intensity directed at him…for him.

Shit, it was not going to be easy telling Patryk no.

“Who says you have to?”

Keir frowned, turned and glanced at the surrounding tables at the sidewalk café where he and Patryk had come to eat, wondering who the hell had said that.

“Are you okay?” Patryk asked.

“Oh yeah. I just didn’t get enough sleep last night.”

“Me either.”

“Really?” Keir leaned forward, took one of Patryk’s hands, and threaded his fingers through his. “Anything in particular keeping you up?”

“You, in more ways than one.”

“That’s good to hear because you were keeping various parts of me up, too.”

Patryk laughed and Keir thought he could listen to the sound for the rest of his life.

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How was he going to burst the guy’s bubble when he had such high hopes for Keir?

“Something’s wrong,” Patryk murmured. “I can tell.”

“Patryk, I appreciate all you want to do for me, but it’s not going to work.”

“You don’t trust me? You don’t think I can handle it?”

“I know you can handle it.” And maybe that’s what scared him the most, Patryk’s capability and eagerness. Keir knew with these, Patryk would be able to set up a show in no time and a show necessitated Keir would produce work to exhibit. Keir didn’t think he could do it, not unless Patryk wanted to display all the work of himself Keir planned to paint.

When Patryk squeezed his hand and peered at Keir with those entrancing jade eyes though, Keir felt like he could produce and outshine the masters.

If only.

“I know it’s been a while since you played the game, and you’re probably nervous about showing your stuff. But you won’t be alone. We’ll take on the art world sharks together.”

Shit, shit, shit. It was like the man had a mission, or like he had something to prove.

“Now you’ve got the idea.”

Oh, this wasn’t good. He was hearing a voice in his head and it wasn’t his.

Patryk leaned forward and smoothed a thumb over Keir’s forehead. “Keir, are you sure you’re okay?”

“I’m fine. I’ve just never been on the other end of a hard sell like yours before.” He grinned to cover his discomfort, knew now he could never rain on Patryk’s parade, not when helping him out seemed to mean so much to Patryk.

“Before you start pinning bows, I have a confession to make,” Patryk murmured.

Keir’s heart stuttered. He couldn’t even begin to guess what bomb Patryk was about to drop now. “What confession?”

“I’m using you.”

Keir swallowed, waited.

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“I don’t mean that like it sounded. What I mean is I really believe in your work and think you’re one of the most talented artists I know.”

“How’s that using me?”

“Ever since I saw your paintings I knew what I wanted to do. I
need
to do this.”

Keir saw the adorable, pure expression on his lover’s face and knew he was going to say yes and that he was fucked. “Okay. You can be my agent.”

* * * *

Zara sat back in her seat and sighed, glancing skyward for good measure and waiting for a reprimand for the way she had handled the situation. None was forthcoming. Maybe they were letting her slide. She’d like to think they saw the wisdom of her decision and respected her initiative and resourcefulness to get the job done—two assets she had admittedly lacked in her former life. Or maybe they were just allowing her to improvise and work around the original ground rules they had set for her.