Men of London 05 - Cross to Bare (4 page)

Naomi sent Lenny an exasperated look. “Honestly, you know he’ll evade it. The man is like a greased piglet with eyes in the back of his head.”

Lenny threw it as hard as he could, and true to form, Leslie dodged the missile and gave a cackle as he wriggled his backside again and disappeared into another office.

Naomi gave a soft chuckle. “See?”

Lenny gave her a mock frosty look. “That’s enough from you, missy. Now do you think you could run along and get me a latte from downstairs? I have a hankering for one.”

Naomi stood and picked up her bag. “No problem. I’ll have a quick smoke break while I wait for that new yummy barista to get your coffee.” She winked at him.

Lenny’s eyes widened. “There’s a yummy barista? Hell, gurl. Sit your little ass down. I’ll go myself.” He waved his hand at her as she sat down with a pout. “But you can go for your smoke when I get back, I promise.”

He left Naomi grumbling about the unfairness of it all as he sauntered across the office floor towards the lift. A sexy barista and a latte was what he needed to soothe his soul and brighten the day.

Chapter 4

Brook Hunter glowered at the file in front of him. His brow furrowed in a scowl worthy of a king about to behead his favourite courtier. The man in front of his desk sat still, eyes staring down at nervous fingers, his demeanour one of defiance no doubt coupled with a sick knowledge he’d gone too far.

Brook leaned back, steepling his fingers together. He didn’t like Keith Turner at the best of times. Keith was an opinionated, insufferable, homophobic twat and if he hadn’t been the son-in-law of the owner of the business, Brook would have fired him a long time ago. But this latest incident was not one he was prepared to let go. He ran this specialist broker finance unit and he’d hold people accountable for their actions.

“You insulted a customer, made judgemental comments about the way the woman ran her business, probably broke the law, and ended up getting both you and Derek thrown out of her office in front of a whole room of people. You asked for far more collateral to cover the risk than we needed, based on your own personal prejudices.” Brook’s voice was deceptively quiet. Inside, he raged. “I’m not sure that’s how we choose to conduct business at Lively, Lewis and Hardcastle. Our reputation is everything and you’ve gone and tarnished it.”

Keith muttered something and Brook leaned forward in his chair, eyebrows raised.

“Sorry, Keith, I didn’t quite catch that.”

“That person was a bloody weirdo.” Keith snarled, looking him in the eyes. “It’s a bloke dressed as woman. I mean who does that? Can’t they decide if they’re a man or a bloody woman?” His lips twitched in disgust and Brook had to physically restrain himself from launching across the desk to smack the man.

While it might not be
his
personal choice to wear women’s clothes, he knew he couldn’t judge those who did, even if he thought it was a bit—well, strange. Brook was a conservative man, and he’d been raised by two diplomats with old-fashioned, traditional family values.

Thinking of men in women’s clothing brought back memories of Lenny and him laughing at “Ru Paul’s Drag Race” as they cuddled up on the couch. Lenny had loved the show although it had taken Brook a little time to warm up to it. It wasn’t something he’d have chosen to watch on his own, but he’d enjoyed the fact Lenny had chuckled at it so much. The sweet memory of being together caused a pang of regret in his chest. He’d no idea what he’d done to make Lenny incommunicado and not return his calls, but he wished he could find out. Brook’s texts and phone calls had gone unanswered, a terse, ‘
Thanks, it’s been good but I think it’s best we not see each other again
’ the only indication he’d had that something was wrong. Those three weeks and the sweet, delicious nights they’d spent together made Brook wish for more.

Shorter than his six foot one, with shaggy, light blond hair, unusual aqua eyes and a tanned and toned body that screamed gym and good genes, Lenny had been Brook’s wet dreams come true. He’d been funny, warm and one of the most compassionate people Brook had ever met, doing a lot of charity work within the LGBT community. It was how they’d met, at a pride rally.

Brook came back to earth when he realised Keith was still whining. “I mean, come on. We’re men. Shouldn’t men dress like men and not wear damn pantyhose and a wig? And she-he-whatever it was - was giving away all their hard-earned money to charities that pick up bums and runaways off the street. I mean, what the hell happened to a person finding a job instead of waiting to be given a hand-out from taxpayers like you and me?”

Keith seemed to be taking Brook’s dumbfounded silence as agreement with his views, as he warmed to his subject. He probably thought being the boss’s son-in-law gave him extra kudos to say whatever the hell he liked. “And let’s face it. He must be really gay to dress like that. I mean, real men don’t wear women’s underwear and heels. That’s damn perverted.” His self-righteous tone echoed in Brook’s brain.

He’d had enough. He stood up slowly, letting the fury in his soul temper itself out before he did bodily harm to this stupid wanker in front of him. He knew he made an imposing sight: tall, broad shouldered and, as one of the ladies in the office’s admiringly said, ‘Falcon like.’

He was used to being compared to the Marvel Avenger after he’d attended a Christmas party kitted out as the superhero and to be honest, there was a resemblance of sorts. He was quite proud of the nickname. To him, the Falcon stood for a lot of good things, but he ruefully acknowledged that he didn’t quite have the muscles or the weapons his alter ego had. If he had, the man across from him would be a blistering scorch mark on the wall right now.

“You bloody idiot,” Brook growled loudly. “I’d stop if I were you, before you say something else that will make me put my fist in your face. I cannot believe what I’m hearing. Firstly, you’re damn lucky the lady didn’t decide to sue the firm for that crass outburst of yours. And this woman is not an ‘it,’ you insufferable ass. She simply chooses to be something you don’t. Secondly, you do know
I’m
gay, right?”

From the horrified look on Keith’s face, he hadn’t known until this moment. Brook prowled around the desk to loom over the other man who sat staring up at him, wide-eyed and pale. His fingers clenched the arms of his chair.

Brook sneered down at him. “It’s not a secret I like men. I don’t go blurting it out to everyone I meet, but I feel the need to tell you now in case you missed the office grapevine.” He imagined Keith was so wrapped up in his own little world he’d missed that broadcast.

“Oh I didn’t mean
you
,” Keith stammered, eyes darting around wildly as if hoping another superhero may appear to rescue him. “I mean these other people…” His voice tailed off and he shifted in his chair as Brook shook his head angrily.

“Don’t try and wriggle out of this one, Keith. I have no place anymore for someone like you on my team. I’ve given you enough slack. It’s time to haul the rope back in. I’ll clear it with Lawrence, but I don’t want you here anymore. He can move you somewhere else, if they’ll have you. If not, well…” He shrugged. “It’s no great loss.” He’d make sure his boss, Lawrence Lively, got all the facts about his daughter’s screw-up of a husband. Hopefully he’d see Brook’s side, if not—well, he’d tackle that when it happened. He doubted he was at risk.

Keith stood up, his face red with anger, jowls wobbling. Brook was glad it wasn’t Christmas. The man might be mistaken for a turkey. That image made him chuckle and Keith glared at him.

“You don’t have the fucking authority to kick me off this team, you young punk. Lawrence will never let that happen—”

“Lawrence put me in charge of this team for a reason,” Brook said, steel in his voice. “Despite my ‘
young punk’
age, I’m the biggest grossing broker this team has.” He was thirty, at least ten years younger than the man in front of him. “This firm’s revenues have increased by forty-five percent since I came on board, plus most of the firm’s top clients—who I’ve brought in—will move with me if I go. Compared to your track record, one I’ve been trying to improve since you got here, by the way without success, I think I know whose side Lawrence will be on.”

Brook gestured impatiently at the door. “Get out, pack up your desk and go wherever it is you spend half your time, the pub across the road or wherever. Your days of lording it over as a member of the boss’s family are over. It’s time for you to move on from my team.” He folded his arms across his chest and stared implacably at Keith. The man’s face was flushed, his breathing erratic and Brook hoped like hell he wasn’t about to have a heart attack. There was no ways he wanted to perform CPR. The thought of his mouth on Keith’s fleshly lips made him vaguely nauseous.

“You bla—bastard,” Keith spat at him and Brook heard the slur at his Kenyan heritage remaining partially unspoken. “You think that will make Lawrence choose you over his own flesh and blood? You’re mistaken in that assumption.”

Brook ignored that outburst, simply gave a deep, bored sigh and rolled his eyes towards the ceiling. He wasn’t feeling as confident as he hoped he looked. While everything he’d said to Keith was the truth, family was always a rather personal business. He had to hope Lawrence Lively could see past that. His boss had always been a fair man.

“I’ll leave your office, but I’m not going anywhere until I’ve seen Laurie.” Keith’s smirk as he used his father-in-law’s pet name irked Brook but he stood his ground. “And Pattie will never let her father do
anything
to me I don’t want to do.”

Privately Brook thought Patricia Lively would be glad to rid of the husband who drank too much, was a complete prat and who, she’d once confided in Brook when she’d been off her face with booze, she wished she’d never married at all. The words, ‘push him under a bus’ had been drunkenly uttered by her as a solution. The fact Keith was also simply clueless as to her random affairs with various ‘coaches’ she supposedly had training her in a variety of sports was also a saddening indictment of the marriage. The man had blinkers on where Pattie was concerned. And it wasn’t Brook’s place to enlighten him on his cheating wife.

“I suppose we’ll have to see,” Brook drawled as he waved his hand again in dismissal. “Piss off, Keith. I have work to do.”

Keith’s eyes narrowed. He trundled his bulky frame towards the open door and half in, half out, he turned and threw Brook a smouldering look of dislike.

“Oh yes, we’ll see,” he spat. He turned and strode down the corridor, ignoring the curious glances of everyone else in the open-plan office.

Brook rolled his eyes and made sure to close the door after what he hoped was now an ex-team member. He slumped down in his high-backed executive chair and stared out the window, his fingers idly turning a stray paperclip into a straight line as he gazed at the folder on his desk and muttered to himself. “Ms Laverne Debussy-Smith, you must be some woman to kick two supposedly hard-assed financial brokers out of your office like that. I believe you’re a force to be reckoned with. I think I might pay you a personal visit to see if I can redeem the company and perhaps try and do some business with you.”

His gaze strayed to a pamphlet lying on his desk. With a twinge of nostalgia, he picked it up. It was a brochure to Ripley’s Believe It Or Not! in the West End. He remembered going there with Lenny one night on a ‘not-date’ as they’d agreed, but as friends. Of course that hadn’t lasted the evening as by ten o’clock that night they were fucking each other’s brains out—but their intentions had been good.

“And then you wouldn’t even return my calls,” he mused, turning the brochure in his fingers. “What the hell did I do to piss you off? I wonder if I should make another call. If I knew where you lived, I’d send you a bottle of wine and some of those Belgian truffles you liked so much.”

Brook scowled. He had no idea where Lenny lived, what he did as a job other than him telling him vaguely he was in the rag trade and had a ‘little business.’ For all Brook knew the man sold garments at Primark or had a market stall somewhere. Lenny had been fun but he’d not given much away about himself. Mind you, Brook had only told Lenny that he was in finance in the city and that was about it. Between shagging each other senseless and watching re-runs of
Supernatural
on television to lust over the two lead men, they hadn’t really gotten to know each other that well. Brook had hoped to learn more about the man he was seeing until it all went pear shaped.

He opened his desk drawer and threw the brochure inside, his mind made up. He’d try and call Lenny yet again and find out what the hell he’d done wrong. He’d also make an appointment with the feisty Ms Debussy-Smith and see where that went. From the research Brook had seen on the company, it was indeed a good business to be in bed with, and he quite fancied a small slice of the pie that was Debussy’s. He was sure he could be charming enough to sway her opinion of the firm and bring in a new client. As for Lenny—he’d call him tomorrow and try to woo him back. He had a real yen to have the blond, sexy goodness that was that man back in his life and in his bed.

Brook’s shitty day didn’t stop there either. He sat in the crowded tube train on his way home, eyes closed, leaning back against the window, when someone nudged him. Brook opened his eyes to see a rheumy-eyed old woman smiling toothily. He reflected moodily she probably had less than half her birth allotment. Her breath was bad but her eyes were kind. She looked to be in her seventies.

“You dropped something, lad,” she said loudly. “Looks like it might be important, like.” Her voice hinted at a Welsh heritage.

Brook looked down to see his battered copy of his London tube map at his feet. He really didn’t need it, and it certainly wasn’t important, but he smiled his thanks and bent down to get it. “Thank you.”

She waved a gnarled hand. “Oh, no problem, lad.”

The youngster sitting across from Brook gave a loud cackle. “It’s a fucking tube map, you old cow. Nothing important about it at all.”