Men of London 05 - Cross to Bare (7 page)

With a stifled wail and a deep gasp of breath, Lenny came all over his own hands, saturating his clean shorts and the bottom half of his tee shirt in the bargain. He lay there with a hand on his semi-flaccid dick, satiated and knowing without any doubt he was definitely calling Brook back.

Chapter 6

Brook sat in Galileo’s restaurant indulging in an orgasmically tasty chef’s special, smoked swordfish with piquant blackcurrant jelly. Coupled with his glass of white Pinot Noir and the fact Lenny had eventually called him back, Brook was in a celebratory mood.

The conversation between him and Lenny a day ago had been brief. The usual “Hi how are you?” followed by “I think we should talk.” (Lenny), and “I’m so glad you called.” (Brook) then a mutual decision to meet for dinner at Galileo’s next Saturday night.

Brook beamed at the waitress who delivered his second basket of crusty bread and butter. “Good news, sir?” asked the pretty blonde server with a smile.

Brook nodded. “Oh yes. It looks like I have a date here next Saturday night. One I never expected to have, so it’s a rather nice surprise.”

The waitress—Imogen, from her name badge—gave him a wink. “Wonderful, sir. I’ll be here that night. Is there anything special you’d like me to do for you? Give you a specific table or make sure she has her favourite flowers on the table?”

Brook grinned. “My date’s not really into flowers. Now if you’d mentioned Belgian chocolates, I think he’d do
anything
for you.”

Imogen laughed softly. “Very well, sir. I’ll try and organise that for you. I’m sure Mr Kent, the owner, won’t mind splashing out for a few truffles. Is there anywhere specific you’d like to sit? I’ll mention it to the duty manager if so.”

He was touched. This young lady was delivering above and beyond the realms of good service in his book. “Well, if it’s possible, I’d love the corner booth, the one over by the bronze telescope. It’s quiet and out of the way.”

So I can get up close and personal with my date. It’s going to be tough to keep my hands off him.

Imogen nodded. “I’m sure I can get that sorted for you. I hope it all goes well on Saturday night, sir.” She smiled and left the table with his first empty bread basket.

Brook took a sip of his wine and sat back in his chair. He enjoyed his occasional lunches here at the restaurant, only a few tube stops from work. Lenny had a good friend who knew the owner and his boyfriend, and the place had come highly recommended. He had to admit it was worth taking the time out to come here instead of one of those boring places around where he worked on Bank Street.

Galileo’s was beautifully decorated in red and bronze, in a style worthy of the astronomer himself. The beautiful frieze of the world on the walls, the star-scape constellation painted on the ceiling and the medley of old brass and copper telescopes and other paraphernalia scattered lovingly around the room were both sophisticated and warm.

Brook finished his meal and was texting Lenny, saying he was happy he’d got back in touch and looking forward to their get together when he heard a polite cough at his elbow. He looked up into the eyes of a rather dishy, suited blond man.

“Afternoon, sir. My name is Gideon Kent. I’m the owner here.” The man smiled at him. “My waitress told me you’d like something special next Saturday night for your date. She mentioned Belgian chocolates and the corner table. I’d like to reassure you we have everything in hand for your evening.”

Brook was taken aback but delighted. “Wow, you really do take service to another level, don’t you? Is this normal or have you mistaken me for a film star? I do get told I look a bit like Nathan Owens, the model.”

Gideon Kent narrowed his eyes and appraised him thoughtfully. “I have no idea who Nathan Owens is, but if people tell you that, I’m sure it’s true.” He flashed a grin at Brook. “Actually Imogen said you looked like a bit like the guy from the
Avengers
films.”

Brook grinned. “Well, I’m neither of them; simply plain old Brook Hunter. But tell her thanks for the compliment.” He quirked an eyebrow at Gideon. “So is this simply a case of mistaken identity then, and now you’re going to tell me I get to sit by the revolving doors outside the kitchen and if I want chocolates for the boyfriend, I have to bring them myself?”

Gideon chuckled, a low, husky sound that Brook really appreciated. Damn, the man was sexy. Brook’s thing for blond men was definitely showing itself.

Gideon shook his head. “Not at all. You made an impression on Imogen so she mentioned you to me. It’s all part of the service.”

Brook raised an eyebrow. “So—I guess the question is how far do you take that service?”

The flirty words came out of his mouth before he had a chance to pull them back. His face heated up. He was meeting Lenny in a week’s time and here he was propositioning the restaurant manager. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. I was out of line. I apologise.”

The man standing at his side grinned. “No need to apologise. I’m flattered, but very spoken for. I appreciate the sentiment. Don’t say anything like that in front of my chef.”

“Your chef?” Brook queried.

“He’s my partner. We live together upstairs.” Gideon waved vaguely at the roof of the restaurant. He snorted in amusement. “I can assure you redheads
do
have the temper they’re reputed to have. Eddie can be a little jealous.”

“Well, tell him the food is incredible. He’s truly inspirational. You’re lucky to have him.”

“Oh, don’t I know it.” For a moment, Brook thought he saw little hearts flying around Gideon’s head as his expression softened. Then the man was all business again. “Well, I’ll leave you in peace. Can I get you a coffee or anything?”

Brook duly ordered a latte and said goodbye to the hunky Gideon Kent. He watched Gideon stride off across the restaurant, stopping at patron’s tables and briefly chatting.

The man has one fine arse in those tailored suit pants.

He glanced at his watch. He’d have his coffee then get back to the office. He still had to prepare for his meeting with the renowned Laverne Debussy-Smith tomorrow afternoon. He wanted to make sure he knew everything about her and her business before the meeting. The last thing he wanted was coming off second best, and being royally escorted from her office like his colleagues had been.

Brook gave a satisfied sigh as he sipped his steaming latte that had magically appeared on his table. He knew two things. One, he was definitely coming back to this restaurant again and again. Two, he was so going to convince Lenny to give them another chance. The man wouldn’t be able to resist him.

*****

Thursday afternoon Lenny sat down and had a stiff drink from the brandy bottle he kept in his desk drawer. He double-checked his lipstick—a pale pink, he hated bright colours on his lips—and applied a bit more mascara. These were the only two items of make-up he used, preferring the
au naturel
look. First impressions counted for everything in this business. Lenny was sure his dark grey pants suit, with his red chiffon blouse and pale grey and white silk scarf was a testament to power dressing. This Mr Hunter was going to end up giving him the damn loan he wanted and take the ten percent shareholding, or leave with a flea in his ear, Lenny reflected grimly as he swallowed his brandy.

It wasn’t that Lenny was desperate for the money; he had a fairly substantial amount squirrelled away in various offshore and onshore accounts. It was simply he was loathe to dip into those reserves as he had plans to expand the business in the next two years and would need every penny. If he could get a small loan now for the new material he needed for his new designs at a good deal, then using someone else’s money made sense. But he wasn’t going to sell his soul to do it.

A loud, heavy
I mean you to hear me
sigh at the door made him turn. He already knew who he’d find standing there. Leslie’s blue eyes regarded him soulfully, black bangs obscuring his forehead as he leaned against the door to Lenny’s office.

“Laverne, do you still need me in your meeting at two?” His voice was hopeful and a little plaintive at the same time and Lenny wanted to chuckle at the woebegone expression on Leslie’s lovely face.

“Yes, my sugarplum, I do.” He shook his head. “I don’t know what’s so damn scary about this meeting, really I don’t.”

Leslie scowled. “They’re so boring. And they make my head hurt. Honestly I’d rather watch
Top Gear
than be in here. And you know how I hate
Top Gear
. All those cars and macho testosterone. Oliver loves it,” he said gloomily. “He makes me sit with him and watch those crazy guys doing all those stupid things. I try and distract him in…other ways.” He grinned slyly. “But sometimes he resists me and I have to watch stupid cars zooming around a boring desert or something equally as bleh.”

“Resist you?” Lenny said. “How the hell does he manage to do that? I doubt I could, my chicken. You are Leslie the Irresistible, after all.”

“I know!” Leslie remarked. “It should be a crime punishable by non-masturbation. Guys should have their hands tied behind their backs while I undress and dance in front of them, and they can do nothing about it. I’d be wearing my heels and my satin undies and really make them all hot and bothered.” His eyes sparkled. “There’s an idea. Maybe tonight I can get something to tie Oliver up—”

Lenny passed a hand over his forehead, the thought of that whole scenario making his own cock rise in his fairly tight suit pants. He wouldn’t ever admit to the man in front of him that image turned him on or he’d suffer Leslie’s glee and teasing for the rest of his life.

I am a red-blooded man, after all, and if that whole idea didn’t give me a damn woody, I’d be a sorry specimen. But I don’t want to have dirty thoughts here at the workplace about my employees and their porn star boyfriends. Hell, I need to get laid.

“Please don’t bring your fantasies into my office.”
Because they become mine
. “Could you go find Naomi and ask here whether Mr Hunter has called to confirm his appointment and see if she’s got an update for me?”

Leslie checked the time on the wall clock. “He’s only due in half an hour anyway. What’s the rush?”

“Leslie,” Lenny warned.

Leslie huffed and brushed his hair off his forehead. “Fine,” he said. “I’ll go.” He shot what Lenny supposed was to be a fierce glance of pique, but in all honesty was nothing more than an adorably cute expression that made him want to eat Leslie all up. He really didn’t know how Oliver could resist anything the man did.

Lenny busied himself looking over his projections and accounts, making sure he was ready. He lost track of time until a sharp knock at the door made him look up. His stomach plummeted to the floor and his heart beat erratically in his tightened chest.

What the hell was Brook doing here?

“Boss, Mr Hunter is here so I thought I’d bring him over personally. I’ve already introduced myself.” Leslie graciously waved Brook to a seat right in front of the desk. “May I get you tea or coffee, or a soft drink perhaps?”

Brook smiled at Leslie. “No thanks, I’m fine.” He stood, looking at Lenny, obviously waiting for him to stand up so he could shake hands. “It’s lovely to meet you, Ms Debussy-Smith.”

Lenny was stuck to his seat as if he’d grown roots.

What the fuckity-fuck do I do now? If he hears my voice, he might recognise me.

“Laverne?” Leslie’s voice was uncertain. “Are you okay?”

Lenny swallowed and closed his eyes briefly. He’d never done a Mrs Doubtfire before but he was sure as hell going to give it a try now and hope Leslie didn’t mess it up for him.

“Good afternoon, Mr Hunter,” he said chirpily, as he stood up, raising his normal voice an octave—or two. From the dropping of Leslie’s jaw and the widening eyes he thought he might have overdone it.

“Oh please, call me Brook. I like to be a little less formal than my other colleagues, if that’s all right with you? I’ve been looking forward to meeting the legend that is Laverne Debussy-Smith. Your name is stellar in this industry from what I’ve heard.” His voice was admiring, not sounding at all to Lenny as if he was trying to curry favour with compliments. They shook hands.

Lenny heard Leslie’s squeak of panic at hearing Brook’s first name and for a second, the two of them stared at each other as understanding for the reason for this new voice dawned in Leslie’s eyes.

Lenny found his composure. “Please sit down. And yes, please call me Laverne. Have you been offered something to drink? Oh of course, you have. Sorry, I’m away with the fairies it looks like. It must be something in the water…” His voice tailed off.

Shut the fuck up. The man’s looking at you as if you’re a loon.

Brook sat down and laid his briefcase at the side of his chair. Lenny fiddled with the papers on his desk, trying not to make eye contact.

The man looks good. That suit looks fabulous on him. He’s a walking Adonis and he’s sitting here IN MY FUCKING OFFICE!

Leslie sat down nervously in the chair next to Brook and stared at him with bush baby eyes. “Er, I thought your business card said your name was Si—Simon?” he stammered.

That’s exactly what I want to know about too. And when Brook said he was in finance, I had no idea it was
this
sort.

Brook chuckled, the sound stirring Lenny’s groin and he was horrified at the slow swelling of his dick. He put a surreptitious hand under the table to press against it as he repeated all the mantras that had helped him out in situations like this before. He’d never had to think of them all at one time before though.

Fat old men with lady titties in steam rooms. Jabba the Hut—naked. Jar Jar Binks in my bed, in a cotton floral nightdress.

“Oh, I always have to explain this. Yes, my name is Simon Brook Hunter, but I don’t like it. I got teased far too often at school with the whole ‘Simon Says’ thing. So I use my middle name. But someone forgot to tell my boss’s secretary, and she went ahead and ordered reams of business cards which I have to use up before I can get any more.” He flashed a charming, white-toothed grin at them. “It’s easier really to explain in person than on the phone.” He looked over at Lenny, who tried to avoid too much eye contact and focused on Brook’s shoulder. A shoulder he’d bitten more than once in the height of his orgasms.