Chapter Four
Wes
New grey herringbone suit—check.
Hair styled, fresh shave, breath
mints—triple check.
Condoms and lube—here’s hoping.
Saturday night had finally arrived. After
two days of meetings and interviews about his latest book, Wes was
ready to enjoy some good food, lively conversation, and maybe some
dancing and other physical pursuits later on. He glanced at his
reflection in the bathroom mirror, noting the circles under his
hazel eyes. He was having trouble sleeping again, despite the
success of the last few days.
Doing his best to ignore the issue, he
checked his e-mail and opened up the document Luca had sent him.
Not much to tell about R.D. Smith, except what was posted on his
social media pages, which was likely controlled by his PR machine.
Obviously, the author liked his privacy. Wes would be meeting the
man in person tonight, anyway, and he would draw his own
conclusions about this potential partnership. Wes smiled,
remembering Mac’s warning that Wes would need to sell himself.
Well, he was really fucking good at that. He texted Grey to let him
know he’d be down in the lobby bar.
Half an hour later, Wes was sipping vodka on
ice and enjoying a live jazz trio at the bar when Grey walked in
and sat down on the brown leather stool beside him.
“Gin and tonic with lime, please,” Grey
murmured to the smiling female bartender, fiddling with the napkin
placed in front of him. “So, all set for tonight, Wes? Got your
pitch ready?”
“I don’t need to get ready. I’m just going
to be my amazing self and get what I want, as always,” Wes replied
with a huge smirk and a raise of his glass.
Grey laughed and rolled his eyes. “I really
wish you had more self-confidence, Wes.” The bartender came back
with Grey’s drink, and Grey nodded his thanks. “I think one of
these days, you’re going to meet someone who won’t be swayed by
your charm and give you whatever you want. I just hope I’m there to
see it.” He mirrored Wes’s actions and raised his drink. They both
chuckled and clinked glasses. They sipped on their drinks quietly
for a moment until Wes broke the silence.
“How are you really holding up, Grey? You
seem tired. Are you eating and sleeping okay?” Wes remarked.
“I won’t lie. Losing Andrea has been the
most difficult thing I’ve ever endured.” Grey paused and took
another sip of his drink. “But I feel like I’ve finally turned a
corner. At least I sleep more than three hours a night, and work
keeps me busy. I’m just a little bit uncomfortable about
socializing. I’ve met a few interesting people at my tennis club,
and one asked me out on a date recently, but I turned them down. I
don’t know if I’m ready yet.”
“Look, I can’t imagine what you’re going
through, but at some point, you have to face your fear. It will be
less painful when you’re totally honest with people and they
understand your situation.”
“It’s not just socializing.” Grey looked
around the room quickly and turned back to Wes, lowering his voice
to a whisper. “I haven’t had sex in so long, I feel fucking
awkward. My body is telling me it’s ready, but my mind is freaking
out.”
Ah, sex. One of Wes’s favorite topics and
pastimes. He looked at Grey directly. “You just need to get into an
environment where you can relax. Maybe a club or a bar. Have a
drink or two. Flirt a bit. Sex is one thing; dating is a whole
other issue. Personally, I prefer the former. It’s simpler and the
variety is so enjoyable.”
“Easy for you to say. You weren’t married
for eight years. I haven’t had sex with more than one person in all
that time. Now I feel like a dorky teenager again.” Grey chuckled
quietly and shook his head.
“Less thinking and more doing, and you’ll be
all set.”
They finished their drinks and left the bar
to catch their car service. Wes’s stomach suddenly tightened—with
trepidation or excitement, he couldn’t tell, but it had been a long
time since he’d felt either.
He welcomed the feeling, embraced it, and
smiled to himself as they headed off into the vibrant New York City
night.
****
Ryker
“So, what do you think?”
Ryker stood in front of the full-length
mirror in his walk-in closet and looked down expectantly at his
three fur babies, all of whom had watched his every move as he got
ready over the past half hour. He’d chosen slim black designer
jeans, a charcoal t-shirt, and a black velvet blazer. He’d added a
lava bead necklace and left his dark hair loose. In addition to his
usual bracelets, he’d strapped a leather cuff to his right wrist.
He decided to forego glasses tonight in favor of contacts and added
navy eyeliner to complete his look. He mulled a quick shave, but
decided the scruff was better. Combined with the dark eyeliner, it
made him look edgier and unapproachable. Perfect.
He slipped into his old combat boots and
grabbed his phone, noticing that Cal had texted him a few minutes
ago.
Cal: Got our ride ready. Move your
ass!
Impatient, as usual. Ryker shook his head
and hurried down the hallway to the front door.
Thankfully, the elevator ride was a short
one, and when he got to the spacious lobby of his building, his
gaze immediately caught on the limo out front. Jesus, it was a bit
much for a short ride to a dinner party. But who was he to argue
with Cal’s over-the-top style or generosity? The man was outgoing,
funny, and flirtatious to the max—a platinum blond, brown-eyed imp
with a personality no one could resist. Even grumpy-ass Ryker.
The back window rolled down to reveal Cal’s
blond hair and big smile. Ryker opened the door and glanced in at
his friend, who had a glass of bubbly in hand.
“Really? You’re dressed like that for
a dinner party?” Ryker exclaimed.
Cal was relaxed in a slim white tuxedo
jacket and pants but no shirt. As he stretched his arms out over
the back of the leather seats, the jacket opened to display his
chest and gold nipple piercings. Cal liked to push the fashion
envelope and hated restrictive clothing and clothing in
general.
“Jesus, Cal, why didn’t you put a shirt on!
Save that outfit for the clubs.” Ryker was half amused, half
horrified at Cal’s clothing choice.
“Come on, Ry, I look hot.” Cal winked at
Ryker and smoothed his hands through his chin-length hair, then
down his jacket lapels. “Besides, this way all the attention will
fall on me, and you’ll be left in peace, just like you prefer. Or
at least, that was my plan until you wrecked it with the eyeliner.
People are going to stare, bud. You look pretty hot yourself.”
Ryker grunted, squirming uncomfortably at
that comment. “This look is supposed to repel people, not attract
them. Aren’t you getting my ‘fuck off’ vibe?”
“No, I’m getting ‘I’m down to fuck’ more
than ‘fuck off.’ Bad boys are irresistible, didn’t you know?” Cal’s
teasing laughter filled the limo.
“I’m grumpy, not bad.” Ryker pouted, then
accepted the glass of champagne Cal held out to him, forcing
himself to relax. “And how come you’re so happy? Have the text
messages stopped?”
“Nothing today, so that’s good. Anyway, I
don’t want to think about it tonight. We both need to de-stress and
have fun.” Ryker accepted Cal’s point and refrained from any
further questions.
Cal chatted away about his day, and Ryker
rolled the window down to watch Manhattan whiz by. Soon, they were
in front of Mac’s three-story brownstone in the East Village.
Cal got out first and walked nonchalantly up
the stairs, ignoring several passersby on the sidewalk as they
gaped at his outfit—or lack thereof.
Mac opened his front door, dressed in trim
navy slacks and a white button-down, his practiced smile in place
until he looked down at Cal’s outfit.
“I didn’t order a stripper. You have the
wrong address.” Mac managed to get halfway through his comment with
a straight face, and then he and Ryker bent over snickering, their
laughter echoing in the cool night air.
“Hey, I’m fucking sexy and I know it.” Cal
smirked as he opened his arms wide and gestured down his body. “And
you should be used to this by now. Wearing the least amount of
clothing necessary is my trademark.”
“You’re ridiculous is what you are. But we
love you anyway,” Ryker muttered, shaking his head.
Mac ushered them through the door and into
his modern foyer. Ryker watched as his two closest friends
embraced, big grins on both their faces.
“Mac, you didn’t tell me it would be
that kind of party,” a deep voice boomed from behind them,
and they all turned to look at the man who had spoken.
Fuck me, Ryker thought as he got a
good look at the tall, gorgeous man who stood casually at the end
of the hallway with his hands in the pockets of his dark grey dress
pants. In the dim light of the chandelier, Ryker could make out the
man’s thick blond hair, styled in an undercut, sharp cheekbones,
and light eyes.
Fucking hell, this was Wes Stewart. Ryker
recognized him from his social media. Ryker couldn’t control the
look of surprise on his face or the jolt of anger that rippled
through his body at this unwelcome surprise. He hadn’t known he’d
be meeting Wes tonight, and he wasn’t prepared. And the pretentious
prick had a smug grin on his face that meant he was all too aware
that he had the advantage. Yeah, we’ll see about that. Ryker
clenched his fists. Mac had a lot of explaining to do.
“Sorry, those parties take place on Thursday
nights,” Mac replied sardonically as he ushered Cal and Ryker down
the hallway to make introductions. “Wes, I’d like you to meet my
two best friends.” He paused, glanced at Cal’s chest, and shook his
head. “The half-dressed one is Callum Pattison, one of New York’s
most successful artists and illustrators.” He turned to his left.
“And the man in black here is Ryker Desoumas.”
Now that he was getting a good look up
close, Ryker could see that Wes’s eyes were a luminous hazel, a
unique combination of green and gold, surrounded by thick, dark
blond lashes and fine laugh lines that crinkled when he smiled.
Freckles dotted his nose and cheekbones. A square jawline and
dimples drew Ryker’s eye directly to Wes’s heart-shaped lips—a sexy
contrast to his masculine profile. He also smelled amazing, fresh
and warm, like a sun-kissed afternoon by the sea.
After greeting Cal, Wes turned his attention
to Ryker and extended his hand, those amazing eyes boring right
into him. Ryker’s palm met Wes’s strong, warm grip and the touch
sparked off a chain reaction; his whole body flushed and his cock
twitched. He’d never been so affected by a simple handshake.
Snap out of it, he admonished himself.
“Ryker is otherwise known as R.D. Smith, the
often grumpy but much loved and very talented author.”
Mac’s mention of his pen name edged Ryker
out of his hormonal trance. He glared at Wes, who returned the look
with a huge smile, including a big dimple in his left cheek. Smug,
handsome bastard. What was so amusing, and what exactly had Mac
told Wes?
Before Ryker could issue a sarcastic
comment, a tall, slim man with curly brown hair stepped into the
foyer beside Wes and reached out his hand. Ryker recognized him
from his online research.
“Greyson Ineja. I’m Wes’s oldest friend and
his long-suffering PR lackey,” he said with a warm, genuine
smile.
Ryker noticed that Cal was suddenly quiet,
standing there staring at Greyson’s face, which was totally unlike
his friend. He nudged Cal with his elbow, and finally, Cal awakened
from whatever daydream he was lost in and was back to his usual
flirty self.
“It’s so very nice to meet you, Wes and
Greyson.” Cal gave his biggest smile to Grey, along with a thorough
once-over. “Greyson. Mmm, your name is so sexy. It really suits
you.”
Greyson’s face reddened at the compliment.
“It’s nice to meet you all. I need to get back to the party and
mingle with the other guests.” And with that, Greyson abruptly
turned and headed back into Mac’s living room.
The hallway was silent for a few moments
before Wes explained, “Grey lost his wife just over a year ago.
He’s a bit out of practice when it comes to flirting.”
“Shit, I’m sorry, Wes.” Cal’s face flushed,
and he ran his hands through his hair. “I hope I didn’t offend him.
I’ll go apologize.”
“No worries, he’ll be okay. Grey dated men
and women before he got married, so getting hit on is nothing new.
Go and have a chat with him. You’ll see, he’s fine.”
“Good idea. Come on, Cal, I’m neglecting my
other guests.” Mac grabbed Cal’s arm as they headed off, and
suddenly, Ryker found himself alone in the hallway with Wes.
Shit.