The Sextet - Occupational Hazards [The Sextet Anthology, Volume 3] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting) (2 page)

Chapter 2

“Another serving of pancakes?” their waif of a waitress asked. Damn, but she was far too perky for that ungodly time in the morning. She batted her heavily mascaraed eyes at Ben, and he had to swallow a groan. Twenty-something skinny girls had never been his type. He liked his women older, smarter, with blonde, spiked hair and a sassy, bossy attitude. And he liked his men exactly like Corey.

“Couldn’t eat another bite,” Corey replied before he held up his cup. “A refill would be nice though.”

“Sure thing, cutie,” the waitress replied before she slopped some more coffee into this cup, letting some of it spill over as she watched Corey’s face instead of what she was doing. “Oopsie.”

He grabbed some napkins and blotted at the dark liquid. “No problem.” With a quick flip of the back of his hand, he waved the girl away. Not surprising because Corey had the same crush on Tracey that Ben did.

No, more than a
crush
. They both had it bad for her, had fallen for her fast and hard and probably for life. “So what do we do now?” Ben asked.

“Figure out a way to lure her away from the Batcave. The more time she spends there, the more she slips away.”

Corey nodded as he ripped open four packets of sugar and let the granules sluice into his coffee. “It’s like she has on…I don’t know…a suit of armor when she’s there.”

“An impenetrable suit of armor,” Ben added. “One I’d really like to wrench right off her. How in the hell can you drink that with that much sugar?”

Corey shrugged as he smiled. “What can I say? I’m a sugar junkie.” His smile faded. “Are you sure she won’t think we’re perverts or something?”

“Nah,” Ben replied. “I’ve watched her closely, especially these last three months, once I realized…Well, once I realized what we both felt about her.”

“And?”

“She might never have been in a sharing situation before, but there’s an attraction. To both of us. Has been from the start, just like between us. Didn’t you feel it today? When we both touched her, didn’t you feel it? The connection between all of us?”

A chuckle rumbled from the man who’d quickly become Ben’s best friend before he also became his lover. From the moment they’d sat in the waiting room, talking quietly as they waited for an interview to be a part of a new advertising team at Prince and Hart, they’d both just known that they belonged together. A celebratory beer after their chats with Tracey Daniels had set them on the path they now walked. A shared confidence when they’d drunk a little too much had landed them in a relationship, as if their coming together had been predestined. Not that anyone else knew they were a couple. Evidently, not even their perceptive boss.

They shared so many likes—bad B movies, Budweiser Light, a good game of
Call of Duty
. And Tracey Daniels. “My dick was hard as concrete,” Corey finally admitted.

“Mine, too. God, but Tracey is the hottest woman I’ve ever seen.” He was getting a boner just thinking about her, but the desire didn’t suppress a shuddering yawn. “Wanna crash at my place again? It’s closer.”

“That’d be great.” Corey jerked a wallet out of his back pocket and dropped a five-dollar bill on the table. “I suppose we should just move in together one of these days.”

“We’ve talked about this before. We will. When we
all
move in together.”

“You’re a lot more confident than I am that she’ll come around.”

“Because I know she will.” Ben nodded at the table. “Quite a tip for Miss Flirt,” he commented as he picked up the check she’d left next to the extra napkins. When Corey tried to snatch it away, Ben shook his head. “Nope. You got the last one.”

“I don’t honestly remember anymore.”

“Let’s just say we both pay our share.” His phone signaled a text message. “Must be Trace.” He checked his watch. “Meeting can’t be over yet.”

Touching the screen, he opened the text just as Corey’s phone chimed. Since the message was from Tracey, he figured it duplicated his own.

How would you feel about a trip to D.C. corporate?

“Looks like we’re going on a road trip,” Ben said.

“But isn’t Decadent Confection headquarters in Indiana?”

“Indianapolis, I’m pretty sure.” They could get Tracey away from the Batcave. That’s what they wanted to do. Going to Indianapolis might be the perfect opportunity. She’d be alone with them after all their meetings were done, and then he and Corey could put on the full-court press. “They have hotel rooms in Indiana, right? And they fuck up reservations all the time, right? Perhaps they could screw up two rooms and only book one.”

Corey’s grin told Ben he got the plan. “They’ll fuck ’em up if I make sure of it. Especially if I make sure we get that one room with a king-sized bed. When are we leaving?”

Chapter 3

“One room?” Tracey hated the panicked squeal in her voice and resisted the urge to pound her fist on the elegant granite of the reception desk. “There are supposed to be two! We need two rooms!”

The day from hell
. The whole fucking day had been the day from hell. Their flight was late arriving, so they finally got into Indianapolis two hours past the scheduled meeting time. Decadent Confections canceled that meeting, the man they were to pitch claiming he had other meetings that afternoon and rescheduled the Dream Team for tomorrow at ten. That meant shifting tomorrow’s early morning flight to an afternoon flight. Now, after driving all over Indianapolis to find the D.C. office, getting lost time and time again, and taking forever and a damned day to find the hotel, Tracey’s taut patience had come to an end.

“I’m really sorry,” the petite brunette behind the tall counter said as her hands flew over the keyboard. “The reservation only shows one room. A king suite, actually.”

“Then
change
the reservation,” Tracey insisted. “Change it now. We need two rooms.”

“Um…I…I can’t,” the girl insisted, making Tracey want to grab the kid by her starched shirt and shake her until her teeth rattled. “We’re booked up.”

“Booked up? We’re in Indianapolis, not New York City!” She hated sounding like some disgruntled bitch, but…
geesh
. The day just kept on giving. A glance back to Ben and Corey told her something was up. They looked like adolescent boys who were trying not to giggle at being caught peeking in the women’s locker room at some high school. She shot them a maternal glare that only made them smile more.

Oh, yes. Something’s up
.

The clerk finally stopped typing and glanced up at Tracey. “Um…There aren’t any other rooms. I’m sorry. I can try another hotel, but…”

“But what?”

“They’ve got to be booked too. It’s FFA week.”

“FFA? What in the hell is FFA?”

The brunette actually gaped at Tracey with an open mouth like she thought she was dense.
So help me God, if she says “duh,” I’m going to get her fired.

“Future Farmers of America,” the receptionist replied. “They have a huge convention here every year. Every hotel around the Convention Center is packed to the rafters. I could try outside of town…but…” Her nonchalant shrug almost pushed Tracey over the edge.

The whispers that drifted over to Tracey from Ben and Corey made her heave a sigh and shake her head. Having only one room hadn’t been an accident. No, her guys had planned this. What exactly were they hoping to accomplish by making sure they stayed three to a room? Had her Dream Team suddenly morphed into naughty frat boys? Did they think Indianapolis was like Las Vegas—what happened in the Hoosier state stayed in the Hoosier state? Had they lost their minds?

Fine
.
One room it is
. She’d hog all the counter space in the bathroom with her makeup and sleep on a chair. The television would never stop on ESPN, either.

Fuck, I need a drink. I need several drinks
.

“Where’s the bar?”

* * * *

“We should go get her,” Ben insisted. “She’s been down there for almost an hour.”

Corey took a last look around the room. It was nicer than he’d expected. Opulent, actually, considering they were in Indianapolis. He hadn’t expected the high-end fixtures. Flat-screen television. Brocade bedspread on the enormous bed. The view of the city was gorgeous. “Yeah, she oughta be relaxed by now.”

“Or drunk.”

“Tracey won’t get drunk. Just tipsy. How many times have we gone out with her? She never loses control.”

“But we want her to lose control.”

“Yes. And no. We want her to lose some of her inhibitions, but we don’t want to take advantage of her. If she’s drunk, it’s hands off,” Corey said, heading to the door as Ben fell in step behind him.

“Absolutely. So let’s find her before she gets too relaxed.”

The bar was dark, smoky, and quiet. After his eyes had a chance to adjust to the dim light, Corey started scanning the place to find Tracey.

“I don’t see her,” Ben said.

“Me, either. Is this the only bar?”

“Supposed to be a piano bar closer to the foyer. Why don’t we head there?”

* * * *

The sounds of a melodic voice singing “Torn Between Two Lovers” reached Ben’s ears just as he saw the entrance to
Eighty-Eight Keys
. “She’s pretty good,” Corey commented as Ben followed him inside. “I love eighties tunes.”

“Me too—” His word seemed to freeze in his throat the same time they both skidded to a stop.

“Holy shit. That can’t be…”

“Oh, hell, yes. It sure is.”

Tracey sat at the black baby grand, her slender fingers moving gracefully over the keys as she sang into a microphone. The patrons were quiet, not indulging in private, buzzing conversations. Probably because they were as enthralled with Tracey’s wonderful voice as Ben was. Their boss had been holding out on them. She was talented, playing like she’d been born with the skill and singing as if she was entirely comfortable in front of a crowd.

“She’s good,” Ben whispered.

“Damn right, she is,” Corey whispered back, not wanting to break whatever spell Tracey was casting over the room. They stood side by side until she warbled the last word of the song and slowly pulled back her hands.

Her eyes locked on them as if she knew they were standing there waiting for her. A smile lit her face, one so beautiful it literally stole his breath away. With a smile of his own, he crooked his finger to motion her off the dais. Time had come to set their plan in motion.

Stepping down, Tracey wove through the tables, stopping to acknowledge what were probably compliments from the people in the bar. She flitted through the place like a busy bee landing on several flowers until she finally stopped in front of Ben.

“Feeling better?” he asked, reaching for her hand. When she let him keep holding it, he tried to mask his surprise.

“Much. Amazing what a few dirty martinis and a couple of songs will do.”

Her speech wasn’t slurred, nor did she smell of alcohol, which convinced him she wasn’t drunk. “Aren’t you tired?”

“Not really,” she replied. “You guys hungry? We didn’t have much of a supper.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Corey said. “Splitting a twenty chicken nugget meal? Highlight of my day.”

“Well, if you’re not here to take me to a restaurant, what d’ya want?” Tracey’s gaze kept shifting between the two men.

“To talk to you.” Ben pulled her closer. “Want another drink?”

“Might not be a good idea. Need to keep my wits about me if I’m with you two.”

“Why?” Corey asked.

“’Cause you’re both too smart for me,” she said before she dropped Ben’s hand. “Know what? Maybe I
will
have that drink.” Before he could say anything, she strolled back over to the bar and plopped her pretty ass down on a barstool. “How ’bout another dirty martini?” she asked when the bartender flopped a napkin in front of her.

“I’ll have one too,” Corey said, sitting to Tracey’s right.

“Make that three.” Ben took her left.

Tracey put a polished finger on the napkin and spun it against the wooden surface. “So…
boys
. Either of you wanna tell me why we’re sharing a room? ’Cause I know it wasn’t an accident or a bungled reservation.”

Ben’s gaze caught Corey’s. The moment of truth had arrived, and he knew Corey wanted him to take the lead now. A few long moments passed before Ben nodded and struggled to find just the right words. “Look, Tracey…We’ve been planning something like this for a while.” He paused as the bartender and a cocktail waitress set their drinks down in front of them before stepping away. Lifting the glass, Ben sipped the alcohol, hoping it would supply him with some false courage.

He was a word man. Always had been. So why was it so damned difficult to say what he needed to say?

Because his future happiness—Corey and Tracey’s future happiness, too—was on the line. If he ever needed the right words, now was the time.

Plucking the tiny plastic sword from her drink, Tracey ran her tongue around the speared olive. All Ben could think of was what that pink tongue could do to his dick. It was already standing at attention, making him shift uncomfortably. He downed his own martini in one gulp.