Knave of Broken Hearts (17 page)

“You mean you didn’t tell him about the change of plans and the second suite?”

Jim grinned. “Nope. Just hope he’ll be happy when he gets back.”

Raoul whistled. “Hell, who wouldn’t be? You got that woman twisted around your finger, man. You gonna make Billy rich.”

Jim swallowed hard. “No guarantees.” And what the fuck would he have to do to make that money for Billy? He walked over to Ian. “Surprised to see you. Did you lose your job?”

Ian grinned. “Nope. Got promoted. I start tonight as a waiter, which means I’ll get tips.”

“Wasn’t that a pretty fast promotion?” Jim cocked his head.

“Yeah, I guess. They love me.” His dimples sank so deep, you could sharpen pencils in them.

“Congratulations, bro. That’s great. And I see you met Rico.”

Those dimples kept flashing as Ian looked at Rico. “Yeah. I came to tell you about my promotion, and he came looking for you, and we sort of ran into each other.”

Rico seemed pretty happy himself. “I had to meet the genius who came up with the plans for the suite.”

Ian practically fluttered his damned lashes. “You made them better.”

“No, I just made them cheaper.”

Maybe I should dunk them both in cold water.
“Cheaper is better when it comes to TIs.” Jim wiped his hand over his forehead to try to get the crease out from between his eyebrows. “I better get back to work.”

Ian sobered. “Everything okay, Jim?”

“Sure. Sure.”

“The owner of the building. She giving you a hard time?”

He lowered his voice. “Not exactly. No. She’s real nice.”

“So what, exactly?”

Jim’s eyes flicked to Rico.
Not the time.
Maybe there never would be a time. “Nothing. Really. I just need to get to work—” He raised his voice. “
—
before these ugly a-holes start throwing hammers at me.”

“Got that right, man.” Raoul hammered extra hard to make his point.

Jim smiled. “I’m really happy for you, Ian. You’re great at everything.”

Ian got up and gave Jim a hug. Rico stood next to him. “But Ian needs to go to Berkeley. He’s too talented to be wasted on some second-class school.”

Ian’s smile drooped a little, and Jim nodded. “Yeah. Well, he’ll excel no matter where he goes to school.” But shit, how he wished he could make that happen.

Ian left with Rico after him. Jim considered telling Rico to give Gene Willings a smack in his face for him but resisted. Charlie stepped up beside Jim and put a hand on his shoulder. “What’s the architect mean about Berkeley?”

“My father was going to send Ian there, but he threw the kid out when he found out he’s gay.”

“Shit, man, that’s evil.”

“Yeah.”

“He’s a great kid. Talented too. But you can’t step in and make up for all the crap your father isn’t doing. It’s not your job.”

Jim really looked at Charlie. “Thanks, man. I try to tell myself that, but I still wish I could make it up to him. He doesn’t deserve this.”

“Yeah, well, I never saw anybody giving you no rose garden either, buddy.”

Jim half grinned. “Nope. I’m too ugly.”

“That, my man, is the shit’s honest truth.”

They slapped backs and went to work.

The guys worked until after five, then gathered their tools to leave. Jim met them at the door. “I pulled permits on the upstairs suite today. You two meet me there in the morning. I’ll get Jase and Henry in here to finish this place and send you a couple of helpers on demo for the other suite.”

Charlie looked up from where he tucked his work boots into his carry bag. “Want to go for a beer?”

“No. I’m going to button up in here. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“’Kay. Night.”

He watched the two guys leave and soaked in the silence after the door closed. Pressing his back against the wall, he slowly slid to sitting.
Breathe deeply.
In through his nose and out through his mouth like the doc’s meditation instructions said. Reduce stress or he could die. That’s what Ken had said. Well, not in so many words, but apparently the doc hadn’t told him everything, based on today’s overreaction.

So now, there he sat between the official rock and hard place. He was stressed about having to reduce stress. Oh yeah, but that was the mere tip of the f-ing iceberg. He really wanted to do a good job for Billy. Every day it became more obvious that the only way to succeed was to romance the boss. That’s what she wanted. If he didn’t romance the boss, he could do the best job there was and still fail. Fail not just with her, but with her father. Fail at things he hadn’t even tried yet.

But even though she was a nice-looking woman and clearly it would make a fuckload of sense to date her, he didn’t want to succeed with her in that way. Her blonde hair and cute butt didn’t inspire a particle of lust. Just like Helen and Peggy.
God, who the fuck do I lust after?
Sadly, he knew the answer.

He shook his head until it banged against the wall on both sides.

Man, Carney, you’ve got failure down.

He breathed out slowly, and his eyes drifted closed.

G
IGGLES
.

Jim’s eyes opened. Dark except for the streetlights shining in from outside the office suite.
Damn, fell asleep.

“Come on, baby.” The voice was muffled, but since Jim’s ear was pressed against the door, he could make out the words.

“No. Go ‘way.”

Jim sat straighter.
What the fuck?
What time is it?

Footsteps, rustlings, and a bump against the wall sounded behind him. He grabbed his phone from his pocket to check the time—9:30 p.m. Man, he’d been asleep for a long time.

“Don’ wanna.”

Shit, that was Ken.
The voice had to be right on the other side of the door. Had he been drugged again? Jim popped up and almost fell.
Butt asleep.
He pounded some fresh blood into his muscles, then slowly pushed down the door handle and opened it a crack.

Over by the elevator, Gene Willings stood with his arm around Ken Tanaka. Ken was a lot taller, so the guy had to reach up.
Fucking midget.

Gene said, “Come on, baby. We have to get out of the lobby before the guard comes.”

“Okay.” Ken’s words slurred. That sounded like booze, not drugs—and Jim oughta know. So old Dr. Eat-and-Drink-the-Right-Shit-or-You’ll-Die wasn’t practicing what he preached.

The elevator came, and Gene kind of dragged Ken onto it and the door closed.

Well, fuck.
Hadn’t he heard Ken say no? Was he just being hard to get? Did he really want whatever Mr. Pain in the Ass Architect was dishing out? What if he didn’t?

Jim took off to the stairs at a run. At the bottom of the first flight, he stopped.
Why the hell are you rescuing Ken Tanaka again?

You know why.

Shit.

He ran up another flight.

Okay, slow down or he’ll have to take care of you instead of the other way around.
He started up the stairs at a moderate jog.

By the fourth floor, he was breathing hard but not about to have a heart attack. Tanaka would be proud—assuming the doc was sober enough to be anything. Jim stuck his head out of the stairwell and sighted down the hall.
Nobody.
He slipped out and trotted to the office. The outer door was on an autocloser, but it hadn’t latched. The door rested against the jam. Jim pushed it open. Dark inside, but dim lights shone from somewhere in the back of the suite. He closed the door gently, then tiptoed across the lobby and opened the door to the inner sanctum. Voices. He couldn’t make them out too clearly. No screams or bedpans hitting walls.

He should go, but what if the doc really was in trouble again? Hell, he did have the damnedest way of picking up people who wanted to fuck him. Jim stepped softly down the corridor toward the voices.

“Mmmpft. Oh baby, I love this cock. Mmmmn.”

“Oh man.”

Jim stopped.
Okay, go now.
This was no rape scene. Pretty clear. He pressed against the wall.
Do. Not. Look.

“Mmmmmft.”

“Oh shit.”

Okay, he’d managed to give up booze. Maybe he could stop eating burgers. But not looking into that room to see Ken Tanaka’s cock? Beyond his strength. Very slowly he moved so he could see around the edge of the door.
Oh yeah.

Ken lay on an exam table, his jeans pulled down around his knees. Shorty the Architect had moved a chair over so he could get in position, and he bobbed his head over Ken’s hips, the long, surprisingly thick cock disappearing into his mouth and then reappearing as his head moved up.

Jim grabbed his chest. God, they had to hear his heart, it beat so hard. His pulse throbbed in his throat and in his stiff-as-a-board cock pressing against his fly. Dear God, it was like his yaoi dream—except for the short prick doing the sucking. Jim pressed a hand against his own cock. He could come just watching.

“Quit. Quit it.” Ken’s head came up, and Jim dove back against the wall.

“Mmmft.”

“Let go. Don’t wanna.”

A soft pop indicated lips had left cock. “Come on, baby. You know you’re enjoying it.”

“No. Quit. Don’t want you.”

“What do you mean you don’t want me? Who the fuck do you want?”

“Want Jim. Get Jim.”

What? What did he say?

“You said he was straight.”

“Is. Want Jim.”

Oh my God.

“You fucking player asshole. You haven’t changed a bit.”

A slap sounded from the room.

Jim’s head exploded. He screamed, “Get your hands off him, you fucking midget.” He threw open the door, leaped at Gene, and had him down on the floor before he even retrieved his slapping son-of-a-bitch hand. Jim looked up and saw the pink imprint on Ken’s cheek. He clenched his fist.

“Wait, Jim. No.” Ken sounded almost sober.

“I’ll kill the bastard for hitting you.”

“No, I deserved it. Let him go.”

Jim stared down at Willings, who had one arm raised in defense. Jim snarled, “Get the fuck up and get out of here.”

Willings sneered. “How dare you, you Neanderthal?”

“You should be aware, asshole, that I never do anything Ken tells me to, so I may just punch your fucking lights out.”

“You wouldn’t.” He looked scared.

“I will if you aren’t out of here in three seconds. One.”

Willings leaped to his feet the second Jim let him up and ran to the door. “Don’t expect any further help from members of my staff.”

Well, there was that. “Send me a fucking bill.” He held up two fingers. “Two.”

Willings disappeared out the door, and a couple of seconds later, the sound of the office door slamming as hard as the self-closer would allow confirmed his departure. Jim looked at Ken, who hadn’t moved if you didn’t count the deflation of his cock.
Keep your eyes above the belt.
“You do have a way of getting into these compromising positions.”

“And you have a way of showing up to save me.”

“Are you hurt?”

“Drunk.”

“Thought you didn’t drink much. Practice what you preach, doc.”

“Don’t drink much. Wanted to get drunk.”

“So you could stand looking Willings in the face?”

He shook his head slowly.

Jim’s eyes traveled back to the long, relaxed cock all on their own. “Maybe we should get you dressed?”

Ken shook his head again and didn’t move. His cock twitched.
Did it get a little longer?

Jim couldn’t drag his eyes away. He swallowed hard. “I heard you say you wanted me to suck you instead of the midget. I guess you must be really drunk.”

That head shake again. The cock was definitely longer. In fact, rising. “I don’t have to be drunk to want that. But know what I want more?”

“W-what?”

“You to fuck me.”

No saliva. Mouth totally dry. Heart beating so hard he couldn’t hear, but he could sure feel his own dick rising to the challenge. “Not—I mean, never fucked a guy.”

“Ever had anal sex?”

“Yeah.”

“That’s all the practice you need. An asshole is an asshole.”

Oh sweet Jesus, that was so far from true. If somebody paraded Peggy’s ass or Constance’s ass in front of him right now, he knew damned well he wouldn’t get a cock wiggle. Instead, he stood here hard as a fire pole and hotter than he’d ever remembered feeling in his life. In the world of time, this was what they called a turning point. “I don’t—I’m not—”

Ken just lay there with a rapidly filling cock doing all his talking.

Sweet Jesus, is this what you want?
“Okay.”

A slow smile spread across Ken’s face, and his cock slapped against his abdomen. “Did you just say okay?”

“Yeah. I mean, I’m not—yeah.”

That got Ken moving. He sat up, caught himself on the edge of the table when he looked like he might fall back down, and finally made it to an upright position to match his dick. All this unfortunately pointed directly to the fact that the doc was drunk.
Jesus, what in the hell am I thinking?
“Hey, doc, I don’t think we’d be doing this if you were sober.”

Ken grinned. “You afraid you’re taking advantage of a drunken man?”

“Well, yeah, I guess so.”

“That’s the most siv, uh chivalrous thing anybody ever said to me.”

Jim put a hand on Ken’s back and pulled him to the edge of the table. “I’m sorry to hear that.” Of course, touching that lean hardness didn’t help his own full upright position. He sighed.
So much for what you want, buddy.
“Let’s get you home and into bed.”

J
IM
STEPPED
back as Ken slid one leg to the floor, his loose pants tangling around his thighs. “Easy, doc.”

Ken gazed up at him from his half-seated/half-leaning position. Those black eyes looked like deep pools—surrounded by a sea of bloodshot red. He grinned and reached out an arm. Jim leaned down to allow Ken to slip his arm around his neck and be lifted to his feet. “Up you go.”