New Tricks Read online

  “I hate times like this.”

  “What?” Thomas asked.

  “This was a lot of fun and I had a great time. But now it’s over and time to go back to work.” Brandon sighed. “Thank you for a fun day. I really appreciate it.”

  They reached the car and got inside. Thomas started the engine and turned to make sure Brandon’s seat belt was fastened. Brandon looked back at him, his eyes once again filled with heat, which vanished within seconds. Thomas didn’t look away, half daring Brandon to do the same. The inside of the car grew stuffy and warm. Thomas tugged at his collar to alleviate some of the heat, even as the air-conditioning kicked on full. This game was becoming a little much, but Thomas ignored the tension and eventually blinked away the connection to put the car into reverse and back out of the parking spot.

  “THANK YOU for taking me today. That was fun and something you didn’t need to do. I mean, I don’t think you’re paying me to be a tourist.” Brandon unlocked the house and went inside. Thomas followed him into the kitchen just in time to see Brandon snatch up his list of tasks. “It was a lot of fun.” Brandon scanned his list, and Thomas studied him, leaning on the counter. “What?”

  “Nothing. I was just watching you.”

  Brandon snorted softly. “You do that a lot.”

  Thomas widened his eyes. Man, Brandon said what was on his mind. “I should go upstairs and change clothes.” Maybe he should disappear for a while. Brandon would certainly leave soon and give him a chance to breathe again.

  “I still have a few errands to run for you.” Brandon left the room, and the thunk of the washer and dryer doors opening and closing reached Thomas’s ears, followed by the hum of the dryer. Then Brandon returned. “I need to get you some things or you’re going to be left high and dry in the bathroom.” He winked, and Thomas nodded. Obviously Brandon was all business, and that’s what he should be as well. “Look, today was great, but I know this was a one-off kind of thing. It was still a lot of fun, and I can’t wait to send our stuff to Marjorie.” He chuckled, and Thomas did the same, remembering the fun in the store.

  It had been a long time since he’d laughed like that. Oh, he had fun sometimes, but not belly-laugh, let-it-all-go-and-just-be-yourself fun. That he’d have to scour his memory for, it had been so long. “Yes, it was. Today was kind of special.” He pushed away from the counter, then froze as Brandon caught his gaze, holding it. Thomas had imagined what Brandon’s lips would taste like for days, and he wondered if he was about to find out.

  Thomas was afraid to move. If he did, he might chicken out. On the other hand, if he leaned forward, Brandon might do the same and then they’d be kissing, which could lead to Thomas finding out the answers to all those questions that he’d been asking himself every time he caught a glimpse of what was under Brandon’s shirt.

  Hell, he shouldn’t be having these thoughts at all. Brandon worked for him, and Thomas should keep a professional distance, but that was hard when they’d just spent the day having a blast together. That, too, was his fault. He should have known better. He let himself get sucked in by Brandon’s blue eyes, and those full lips that just begged to be kissed. Thomas blinked, and Brandon seemed to have moved closer. Thomas held his breath and took a single small step forward, hoping Brandon would do the same.

  He did. They were inches apart, and the dryer and every other sound in the house quieted, except for the beating of his heart in his ears. If he were honest, he wanted this.

  Thomas’s reservations flew out the window and he started closing the distance between them.

  His phone rang, chiming in his pocket. Thomas tried to ignore it, but Brandon had already pulled away. Thomas yanked his phone out of his pocket, huffing at Marjorie’s name on the screen. “I’d better take this,” he half growled.

  Brandon nodded and turned away. “I’ll see you in the morning,” he said softly, and hurried out of the room.

  Thomas sighed under his breath as he took the call, wishing her timing had been better. So much better.

  Chapter 6

  BRANDON STOOD outside the front door to Thomas’s house the next morning, bags of toilet paper and other things in his hand. He was nervous and had been up for most of the night. Thomas had come close to kissing him. Brandon was pretty sure of that because he’d been equally close to kissing Thomas. Thomas liked him and was attracted the same way Brandon was, which was cool because he liked that Thomas liked him. Okay, his head was going around in circles until he sounded like an angsty teenager.

  Yeah, he’d have liked it if Thomas had kissed him, but that damn phone call…. And then Brandon had the chance to realize how ridiculous that idea was. Thomas was übersuccessful, and Brandon was his assistant, stopping on the way home to buy his toilet paper. It didn’t matter that just the thought of Thomas kissing him sent his heart racing, or the fact that he had been up half the night with his imagination running completely wild. Now Brandon was nervous and unsure how to act. He figured the best thing to do was to pretend the whole thing had never happened. That way Thomas could go on and Brandon could simply go back to work like normal.

  He unlocked the door and went quietly into the house. Brandon put the bags on the counter, then went to the laundry room, where he pulled the towels out of the dryer and folded them. He left them on top, figuring he could put them away once Thomas was awake.

  Brandon checked what was in the refrigerator, then set up the coffeepot and got it brewing, the scent filling the room. If he were correct, that would most likely draw Thomas out of his room like a cartoon character.

  The doorbell sounded as the coffee finished, and Brandon answered it. “Good morning,” Brandon said, and ushered the representative from the maid service into the family room. “I’m Brandon, Mr. Stepford’s assistant.”

  “Helen Gracos.” They shook hands, and Brandon offered her a seat. Helen seemed very efficient and got right down to business. “What sort of work is Mr. Stepford looking for?”

  “Well, probably two times a week to do the cleaning, laundry, and things like that. The house is quite large, but there are rooms that aren’t being used at the moment.”

  “I see. Will there be any shopping required?” she asked, making notes in a small book.

  “No. I’ll be taking care of most of that. You’ll be cleaning and taking care of the laundry. The things he sends out to the cleaners, I’ll be in charge of.” It seemed very straightforward to him, and Helen seemed pleased.

  “We’d be happy to add Mr. Stepford to our clients.” She looked around and made a few more notes. “I’ll send over an agreement that states our duties and rates. It seems to me that once a week or so might suffice.” She hummed softly to herself as she thought. “A single person in a house like this shouldn’t make much mess, but we can start with twice a week and make adjustments. We might do a heavier cleaning once a week and something lighter on the second day.”

  “That’s great. While Thomas is only renting this house, my impression is that he’ll be looking for a permanent residence in the area. So hopefully this isn’t a short-term contract.” At least he thought so. It had occurred to him that, after the lease was up, Thomas might just return to New York, though he hoped Thomas was able to make a good life for himself here.

  She nodded. “I understand. Like I said, I’ll send over an agreement. I feel it’s best if both parties clearly know and understand what’s expected. Please have him look it over, and if he agrees, we can get started.” She stood, and they shook hands once again. Then Brandon showed Helen out and went into the kitchen.

  He had a cup of coffee, put the things he’d bought away, and then checked the clock. It was after nine. He remembered seeing Thomas’s car in the drive, so he assumed he was home, but Thomas was usually up by now. Even the day of his hangover, he’d been up by this time.

  Quietly, Brandon went upstairs. Thomas’s door was closed, and he knocked softly. When he didn’t receive an answer, he cracked the door. “Thomas…,” he said
softly, wrinkling his nose at the stale air that wafted out. “Are you all right?”

  “Yes,” Thomas groaned.

  “You have a call in half an hour. Do you want me to bring you anything?” He kept his voice low, suspecting that Thomas had once again been out drinking.

  “Is there coffee?” he mumbled.

  “Yes. It’s already made. There’s aspirin in the medicine cabinet if you need them, and I can bring you some water or….”

  “No.” Thomas slowly sat up, the covers falling away from his chest. “I’m okay. Just stupid.” He blinked and stood, revealing only a pair of plaid boxers clinging to his hips.

  Brandon backed out of the room and closed the door once again. He headed back downstairs and went into the office to make sure the computer and everything was set up for the meeting. He didn’t really need to, but Brandon needed to do something.

  He called Marjorie and went over the schedule for the day. There were two meetings, and Brandon used Thomas’s laptop to bring up his calendar. Marjorie also sent him a number of documents that Brandon was going to need to get printed. He figured he should talk to Thomas about buying and setting up a printer for his office.

  Brandon got the files together on a flash drive and slipped it into his pocket so he could take them to the printshop. As he finished, he heard Thomas in the kitchen and joined him there.

  Thomas looked like he’d just been over fifty miles of bad road. Brandon wanted to ask what he’d done and why, but he held his tongue. It was none of his business. But damn, the way Thomas sat at the counter, staring at his mug, the appliances—at anything and anywhere but looking at him—was rather creepy.

  “I have some files I need to have printed for you, and I was wondering if you wanted me to get you a printer for your office.”

  “I’ll order one and have it delivered,” Thomas said flatly. God, what a difference from the happy, laughing guy from the afternoon before. “Just go get that stuff printed for me. I’ll be in my meeting, so be quiet when you get back.” With that pronouncement, he left the room, taking his coffee with him.

  “Yes, your majesty,” Brandon said under his breath, wondering if yesterday had been a fluke and the Thomas he was seeing today was the real guy. Brandon wasn’t sure, but the jerk who’d just left the room wasn’t very endearing… at all.

  Still, he had a job to do, so he hurried to the local printshop, made a single copy of each of the documents, and returned. The office door was closed, but he cracked it, set the papers on the desk, and left again quickly.

  Thomas barely looked up from his call.

  Brandon wondered about calling Marjorie to find out if Thomas was a mood swing kind of guy, but he didn’t think so, contrary to the evidence in front of him. Rather, Brandon got the distinct feeling that this was specially directed at him. When he’d overheard Thomas on the phone, he had sounded upbeat, cheerful, almost happy. Shit, if he’d done something wrong….

  “Brandon,” Thomas called, not sounding happy now, and Brandon found him in his office doorway. “I need you to call Marjorie and tell her to get Blaze in my office and on this call… now.” He stepped back and closed the door.

  Brandon made the call.

  “Brandon,” Marjorie said when she answered. At least someone was happy to talk to him today.

  “Thomas said to call and have you get Blaze on the call he’s on right away. He was pretty upset and snippy.”

  “Okay, I’m on it. Message Thomas and tell him I’m running Blaze down.” She hung up, and Brandon sent the message, then put the laundry away and took care of the other things around the house.

  After an hour, Thomas came out of the office, wiping his forehead with a tissue. “Thank you.”

  “Get the problem handled?” Brandon asked.

  “Yeah. We saved an entire deal and six months of work from falling apart.” Thomas let his hand fall to his side with a sigh.

  “Did they want more money?”

  Thomas shook his head. “Not everything is about money. There’s a piece of open land behind the development site that’s part of the deal that the community has been using as a garden. The owner wanted it to remain that way and was very concerned about that. But we needed that land in order to make the development pay off. Blaze pointed out that we owned a small lot a half block away. We had planned to build an apartment building on it, but that project was on hold. So we agreed to move the garden there. Everyone was happy.”

  “That’s pretty cool,” Brandon said. “You get what you want and help the community at the same time.” Brandon figured green space in New York was always a premium and pretty special.

  “Yeah. Though we will retain ownership of the property. When we looked at the community garden, it didn’t seem active, so we did agree to revisit the community garden based on how much it’s used.” Thomas sighed. “God, I need coffee.”

  “How about some breakfast?” Brandon offered, and Thomas groaned. “I know I’m only your assistant, but you wouldn’t feel like shit if you didn’t drink so much.” He frowned and went into the kitchen to grab the trash container, which jingled with glass bottles, and took it out to recycle. He sighed. It truly was none of his business if Thomas wanted to drink.

  “There wouldn’t be a problem if you weren’t here,” Thomas groused.

  “Then why did you hire me?” Brandon dropped the liner back in the trash can. God, the guy was a dickhead today.

  “Because you were the best for the job, but I keep thinking about you all the damn time.” Thomas rubbed the back of his neck. “I should go back to work.”

  “Sure, hide behind work rather than say what you mean,” Brandon snapped and immediately wished he’d kept his mouth shut. It wasn’t good that he was having an argument with his boss. Thomas turned, his eyes swirling with confusion, and Brandon decided his only course of action was to push forward. “Yesterday you were nice, and today you’re snappy and telling me I’m a problem. What do you want, Thomas?”

  “You’re not the one with the problem. I am.” Thomas rubbed his temples. “I can’t seem to get you out of my head, and you shouldn’t be there—you work for me. I can’t figure shit out.”

  Brandon frowned. “So? Imagine having you in my head since I was fifteen and see how easy shit is.”

  Thomas stood stock-still. “Fifteen…,” he whispered. “Why? How?”

  “You don’t remember, do you? I mowed your lawn that year before you left and went to New York. I knocked on your door, and you opened it and made my little gay fifteen-year-old heart practically stop beating. You were in a pair of jeans and no shirt. You looked… damn… and I stood there, trying to form words in front of the hunk of the year.”

  “Shit…. And you remembered that?” Thomas grew quiet. “I don’t at all.”

  “Of course you don’t. I was some kid who came to mow your lawn, and you answered the door without a shirt because you were probably busy. You made a deal, and I got to work. I suspect you never gave me a second thought except to pay me for what I did for you.”

  Thomas shook his head slowly. “And you’ve remembered that all this time?” He seemed shocked, and Brandon figured he had a right to be.

  “Not sharply, I guess, but….” He wasn’t going to say that Thomas had fired his teenage imagination for the longest time after that day. It was embarrassing and would probably make Thomas more uncomfortable than he already was.

  “‘The hunk of the year’?” Thomas asked, and Brandon felt his cheeks warm. Then Thomas chuckled. “Man, someday you’re going to have to tell me more about that. I haven’t felt like a hunk-of-the-year type of guy in a very long time.” He seemed pleased about that idea.

  “Have you not looked in the mirror lately?” Brandon asked.

  “Yeah. I know what I look like. I’m a man who works too damn much and is approaching forty in a matter of weeks.” Thomas sighed again. That was becoming some kind of nervous habit or something. “I’m….”

  “I know what you ar
e and how old you are. What does that have to do with anything?” Brandon put his hands on his hips. “That doesn’t explain the grumpbucket you’ve been all day.”

  “I almost kissed you yesterday.” Thomas said the words as though they explained everything.

  “So? I almost kissed you, and then you pulled away with that stupid phone call, and I got cold feet.” Brandon shifted his weight from foot to foot. “I’m not saying that we need to do anything. If you aren’t interested or don’t want to do anything with me—”

  Thomas leaned against the wall. “God. It isn’t like I don’t want you…. At night I can’t sleep because I keep seeing your eyes, and when I do sleep, you’re in my head and I have very vivid dreams. I got up last night and drank the beer in the refrigerator to try to get numb enough that I could get back to sleep.” Thomas put up his hands when Brandon moved closer. “This is all my fault. I’ve had a history of having… feelings for the people I work with, and it turned out really badly.”

  Brandon took a step back. “Okay. I can understand that.” He turned to leave the room. There was no reason to pursue this. He was an adult, and he and Thomas had at least spoken about what was going on. In a way, that made things better because there wasn’t all this silent attraction going on with neither of them talking about it.

  “Brandon,” Thomas said from behind him, the timbre of his voice low and deep, resonating in Brandon’s gut. He turned, and Thomas cupped his cheeks, kissing him with enough energy to short-circuit Brandon’s brain.

  He took a single step back, the wall stopping his momentary retreat and providing support as Brandon ran his hands up Thomas’s arms to his body, using him as a road map, because his entire attention was centered on the point where Thomas’s lips touched his. He’d imagined how this would feel since he was fifteen, and damn it all, reality made his dreams pale by comparison. Maybe there was something wrong with his imagination or….

  Fuck it all, he was worried about his imagination when the object of said imaginings had him pressed to the wall and was kissing him to within an inch of his life. Brandon let go of all other thoughts and kissed Thomas back, holding him tight until he couldn’t breathe any longer. Brandon broke away, looking into Thomas’s deep and dreamy eyes, long enough to catch a breath of air, and then, desperately afraid Thomas was going to back away, kissed him again with even more intensity. Thomas shook in his arms, and Brandon cupped his head, feasting on Thomas’s lips, tongue slipping between his, getting a good taste of his maleness.