New Tricks Read online

  “But I spent most of those years alone, working myself most of the way to an ulcer and a chronic case of hypertension. I had one real relationship, and that….” He shuddered.

  Brandon took Thomas’s hands. “Maybe you can tell me what happened someday.” He brushed Thomas’s shoulder, and Thomas quivered. “But all of that still made you who you are.”

  “I suppose. Lord knows I don’t want to make the same mistakes again.” Thomas looked all around him.

  “Do you think you’re the same person you were when you first came here? As wide-eyed and overwhelmed as I am? I didn’t really know you then, but let me tell you, you’re not. You’re stronger, harder when you need to be, smarter, and the most driven person I’ve ever met. You can move to Colorado Springs to try to take it easy, but the drive you have is there because of this place. New York and everything that happened made you who you are… made you the man who swept me off my feet.” Brandon drew Thomas to him and kissed him.

  “How did you get to be so damn smart?” Thomas asked with a smile.

  Brandon snickered. “Born that way?”

  They continued down the street, walking a few blocks before taking the side street and going around the block and back to the hotel. Brandon was getting tired and needed time out of the noise and bustle. What he really needed was quiet time with Thomas, and once they were back inside the room, Brandon led Thomas to the bedroom, closed the door, and pressed him back until he sat on the edge of the bed. Brandon stepped away, pulling off his tie and then slipping his jacket off his shoulders.

  Thomas watched him closely; Brandon felt his gaze on him like a touch as he toed off his shoes and then loosened his collar. That felt so damn good, but not nearly as wonderful as having Thomas’s undivided attention.

  Brandon held out his hand, and Thomas looked at him, confused. Brandon wagged his fingers and raised an eyebrow, and Thomas reached into his pocket and handed Brandon his phone. Brandon smiled, turning it off and putting it on the dressing table behind him.

  “That’s better,” Brandon said, drawing Thomas’s attention back to him, slowly popping the buttons on his shirt. “You spend too much time on that thing and you’re never happy when you’re on it.”

  Thomas smiled. “I can’t argue with that.”

  Brandon unfastened the last shirt buttons, shrugged the fabric off his shoulders, and laid it on the back of the nearby chair. Thomas was silent as Brandon took a single step closer. “I’m not teasing you, Thomas. I want you to see me.” He held still and then tugged at Thomas’s tie, slipping it from around his neck. Then he took off his jacket and opened Thomas’s shirt, adding them to the growing stack of clothing across the back of the chair.

  When he turned back to Thomas, the scar on his shoulder and upper arm caught Brandon’s attention. He gently traced it with his finger before leaning closer to kiss the white line of stretched skin.

  “I hate that scar,” Thomas whispered.

  “Why?” Brandon kissed it again.

  “Because it’s a reminder of my biggest mistake ever.”

  Brandon shook his head, tracing the line with his finger. “It’s a war wound.”

  Thomas scoffed. “Hardly.”

  “Wars don’t just happen in the Middle East or in Vietnam. They happen every day to everyone. Wars of the heart can leave just as many scars as any other kind, and they often are much harder to heal.” Brandon traced the smaller marks that had to have been from the stitches that closed the wound. “How deep did he cut you?”

  “Enough that I had trouble moving my arm for a year,” Thomas answered, and Brandon kissed it once again. “He’s gone now. They convicted him and sentenced him to a mental institution upstate. I don’t have to worry about him coming back, just making sure I don’t make the same mistakes.”

  “Because all lovers threaten and hurt you when they leave?” Brandon wondered what Thomas was getting at, but he thought he was pretty close to the bull’s-eye with what Thomas must fear. His gut told him so.

  “No. Because I let him get the better of me. I let him wheedle his way into my entire life, and he nearly cost me everything.” Thomas turned to him. “We were supposed to spend a weekend at a cabin, and he cut me and then… I nearly bled out, it was so bad. I managed to get to a phone before I passed out.” He shook his head. “I don’t want to talk about this. There’s nothing good that can come of it. Not now.”

  Brandon smoothed his hand over Thomas’s shoulder, massaging. “Maybe….”

  Thomas didn’t pull away, but he stiffened slightly. “Why do you keep touching it?”

  “Because it’s a mark he put on your body, and I think this cut goes deeply enough to have reached your heart and maybe your soul. It needs to be healed.” Brandon continued rubbing, placing gentle kisses on top. “I feel like you’re still carrying him, and you can’t. You need to truly let him go.”

  Thomas pulled away. “How can I? I’ll carry his marks on my body forever. You don’t know what else he did.”

  “Nope. When you’re ready to tell me, I’ll listen, but I don’t have to know. You said he’s gone and can’t come back, but he’s not. He’s with you because you carry him inside.” Brandon moved right in front of Thomas. “Let him go.” Brandon gently pressed Thomas back until he lay on the mattress. “You’re a fine-looking man.”

  Thomas shook his head. “You’re the one who’s incredible.” He reached out and tugged Brandon closer and then down, holding him tightly. “You’re young and beautiful. I’ll turn forty in three weeks.”

  Like that was the end of line. Brandon rolled his eyes. “You need to let that crap go.” He straightened up, unfastened his pants, and stepped out of them. “As long as it’s there, then there isn’t going to be room for someone else.” Brandon worked open Thomas’s slacks and tugged them off, setting them with the rest of the clothes.

  “That’s easier said than done.”

  “Yeah. I know it is. But think of what you can have when you do.” Brandon inhaled deeply, knowing he needed to take his own advice. As much as he wanted his parents to accept and care for him, it wasn’t going to happen.

  “I can’t believe we’re having this conversation here,” Thomas said.

  “Why not? Sometimes things are easier to talk about in a strange place.” Brandon climbed on the bed, straddling Thomas’s body, heat radiating off him.

  “You have an answer for everything, don’t you?” Thomas asked as he sat up and tugged Brandon to him until there was nothing between them. Chest to chest, skin to skin, Brandon needed as much touch as he could get, and Thomas welcomingly obliged.

  “Maybe.” He kissed Thomas hard. “But enough talking for now.” He ran his fingers through Thomas’s hair. Brandon figured he’d show Thomas just what he could have when he let go. And judging by the whimpers, begging, and even the scream when Thomas tumbled over the edge, they both experienced something that neither of them was going to forget, with Brandon shocked at just how easily his own heart opened up to Thomas.

  Chapter 9

  “THOMAS,” MARJORIE said from the doorway, interrupting his thoughts.

  He looked up from his desk early Wednesday morning, still blinking a little. His head spun after yesterday’s full day of work preparing for the meeting later this morning and from having his world rocked by Brandon each night since they’d arrived.

  “Yes?”

  “Where were you?” she asked gently as she came into the office and placed a mug of coffee on his desk.

  He sighed and turned his gaze to the ceiling. Not that he expected any answers, but he needed something blank to look at so he could center his thoughts. “I don’t want to be here,” he finally said. “I’m ready to go back….” He could feel the business pulling him hard to New York. “This whole thing was foreseeable and avoidable.” That’s what made him upset.

  “Probably for you. You have always had the ability to look into the future better than a damn fortune-teller. But you can’t expect others to d
o the same. It isn’t fair or realistic.” Marjorie sat across from his desk and handed him a couple of the files he’d asked for. “This business needs you, it really does….”

  “That’s….” He sighed and set the files down, knowing what she said was right.

  “But we don’t need you here, physically… not all the time. At least I don’t think so.” She leaned forward. “Ultimately this is your decision to make.” She stood at a knock at the door and left as Blaze stuck his head in.

  “Can we talk?” he asked. “I’m sorry if I messed this up. I….”

  Thomas tamped down his frustration. “You didn’t. You got played a little bit by a greedy asshole who thought you were an easy mark.”

  “I’m not…,” Blaze said, and Thomas knew he was about to offer an explanation.

  Thomas put his hand up. “I know that.” He reached for the files in front of him, but paused. He wasn’t sure how he wanted to handle this, and that’s what bothered him. “And you did the right thing by calling me. We need to get this straightened out, and he needs to learn that we aren’t going to be messed with.” He could see Blaze doubting himself, and that both irritated and bothered him.

  “Thomas….” Blaze shifted in the chair.

  “First thing, never apologize to me or anyone as long as you did your very best.” Thomas met Blaze’s gaze. “You don’t owe me anything here as long as you’ve done that.” He leaned back in his chair. “This is my fault in part. Maybe I left too soon or shouldn’t have left at all. I don’t know.” Perhaps in his quest to get a different kind of life, he’d rushed. “We’ll fix this and figure out how we move forward from here. I just don’t have all the answers I want right now. Let’s meet with the lawyers in an hour, okay?” He turned back to the files once Blaze had stood and left the room.

  Thomas went over everything again, making sure they had all the facts. He knew he was in the right—he had all the papers that said so, and he could press it within the law—but that was going to take time and cost money.

  His phone chimed with a message from Brandon. Thomas glanced at it.

  Do you need anything?

  A good idea. He sent the message and continued to review what he had. A knock sounded at the door. “What is it?” He was being short, but he didn’t have much time.

  Brandon peered inside. “Just checking that you were okay.” He came in with a bottle of water. “We have everything ready for the meeting… but….” Brandon hesitated. “Marjorie has the room set up with water, coffee, even food.”

  “Yes….” Thomas wondered what Brandon was getting at.

  “All that is to make them comfortable. Don’t. Make them as uncomfortable as possible. Leave them wondering what’s going to happen. Don’t even put water on the table. Let them think this is quick and you’re going in for the kill. At least that’s what I think from what you said on the plane.”

  Thomas thought and smiled. “Dammit, yes. That’s a perfect idea. Can you take care of that?”

  “Sure.” Brandon turned to leave, but Thomas stopped him. “What is it?”

  “I’m not sure how I should deal with this, exactly.” Thomas sighed. It was rare that he confided in anyone. Marjorie gave him a hard time sometimes, but that was her way and he liked that she wasn’t intimidated by him. Maybe that was part of why he was falling for Brandon. He wasn’t intimidated either.

  “Okay. Why not? I bet you could do this in your sleep.” Brandon smiled.

  Thomas nodded. “That’s what’s bothering me. I’ll be doing this until the day I die, or until I pack up this business and walk away.”

  Brandon rolled his eyes. “Sometimes we all see just the trees.” He approached the desk. “You’re one of the smartest, most interesting guys I know, and I believe there’s no problem you can’t tackle if—”

  Thomas waved his hands. “Just get on with it and stop blowing smoke up my ass.” He was getting more and more ramped up with each passing second. “Please just come to the point.”

  “Take a step back. Let Mr. Torenetti handle it.”

  “Blaze? But he called me for help.”

  “Help, yes. He didn’t necessarily call you to take over. Help him handle the situation. If you need a bulldog for this, then teach him how to be one. That way he’ll be able to do it next time and will know what to look for.” Brandon shrugged. “You know, that whole ‘teach a man to fish’ thing.”

  “Yes.” Thomas smiled as the path he wanted to take opened up in front of him. “Please go take care of the conference room and be back here by eleven. I want you and Marjorie here for the meeting. We’re going to put on a show of force.” He smiled, really smiled.

  “You got it.” Brandon whirled around and left the office as Thomas leaned back in his chair, the plan fully forming in his head.

  AT ELEVEN, Thomas was still in his office. His phone rang. “Are they here?”

  “Yes. They’re in the conference room. There are just the two of them, Kevin Matthews and his lawyer, some sleazy guy in a cheap suit.”

  “Good. Get everyone else in there, including the lawyers and security as well as yourself and Brandon. Have Blaze come to my office, and we’ll go in together. I want to make them wait, let them squirm and stew. I don’t want anyone talking, understood? They are to go in, sit, and say nothing. Not even make introductions. I want this asshole to fidget until he’s ready to shit himself. You and Brandon are to take notes. I don’t care what the hell you write, just act like you’re taking down every word either of them says. I want them watching and thinking about every word that crosses their lips.”

  “You got it.” Marjorie sounded almost giddy.

  Hell, Thomas felt the same way.

  He ended the call, and Blaze knocked on his door a few minutes later. “You ready?” Thomas smiled at Blaze. “Just give them a chance to lay out their hand and then level both barrels at them. We know he’s stalling for more money or a better offer, which he isn’t going to get. Let him hem and haw, and then give it to him.” Thomas checked his watch. “They’ve been in there for ten minutes with nearly ten people staring at them. They’re going to be nervous as hell.” He joined Blaze, and they headed to the conference room.

  Thomas didn’t smile, but was pleased when each of his people looked up from watching Matthews and his lawyer. The room was tinged with the scent of sweat and discomfort. He took his place across the table from them, with Blaze next to him.

  “What’s the deal, Matthews?” Blaze asked without preamble or introduction, as though the entire retinue around the table weren’t there.

  “I wanted to discuss some of the terms of our agreement.” Matthews looked around as both Brandon and Marjorie took notes.

  “You mean, the agreement that you already signed?” Blaze slid the letter of intent across the table. “The one that outlines price and timeline.”

  Matthews leaned to his lawyer. They spoke briefly, and then Matthews turned back, a shade paler. “That isn’t the final say. It’s just an outline and—”

  “No. It’s an agreement, binding here in New York. We have met our part of the agreement, and by refusing to meet yours, you are racking up considerable charges that go against the purchase price.” Blaze was a thing of beauty, playing it exactly as they’d talked about.

  “That’s immaterial,” the lawyer chimed in.

  “No, it’s not. Check paragraph eight of the agreement. Any delays caused by your client and the costs therein are to be borne by him. That includes all time resulting from preparation for this meeting, as well as research to back up our claim. It also includes all costs involved in bringing Mr. Stepford to New York, housing him, and all hours spent preparing for this little party.” Blaze waved his hand. “In fact, you are paying for each person to be in this room. I suggest you talk fast and decide what you want to do. The minutes and dollars are ticking by, and you don’t have a leg to stand on.” He grinned. “Maybe we’ll just take you to court and you can pay for all those costs as well. Paragra
ph nine.”

  Matthews grew paler and paler. “I thought we could talk about this.” He turned to Thomas, and Thomas looked at Blaze, saying nothing.

  Blaze stood, leaning over the table. “What you thought was that Thomas was out of town and that you could play your games and get away with them. Well, not on your life.” He sat back down and adjusted his tie. “You will close as agreed, period. If there is anything more, you better closely consider the cost. Your building is already nearing a fifty-thousand-dollar price reduction, and it’s only getting bigger.”

  Matthews opened his mouth and closed it again, like a feeding carp. He looked around the room for some sort of support.

  “Are we done? Closing is scheduled for Friday morning,” Blaze said. “We will do it here in this office.”

  Matthews nodded, shell-shocked, and his lawyer seemed about ready to slide under the table.

  “Good. We’ll message you with the actual price reduction tomorrow morning.” Blaze stood like a lion about to catch his prey. It was gorgeous.

  “We’ll see you Friday,” Thomas finally said, without offering his hand. “Eleven sharp.”

  “All right,” Matthews growled, and they left the conference room, Marjorie showing him out through the office to the elevator. Only once she returned did they smile, and conversation broke out.

  “You were great,” Thomas told Blaze. “Thank you all.”

  “That was the definition of shitting bricks,” Blaze said as he shook everyone’s hand as they left the room. Thomas did the same, thanking them. The lawyers agreed to have everything ready for him in plenty of time, and they too left the office.