Designs of Desire E-Book

Tempeste O'Riley

• Herausgeber: Dreamspinner Press
• Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
• Sprache: Englisch

Seitenzahl: 304

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2013

Beschreibung

Desires Entwined: Book One Artist James Bryant has forearm crutches in every color from rainbow for fun to sleek black for business. He even has a pair with more paint splatters than metal. After his family's rejection and abuse from a man he thought loved him, James only just gets through the day by painting. He lives in constant fear that he's not worthy of anything, let alone love. As CEO of his company, Carrington Enterprises, Seth Burns is a take-charge kind of guy, and he is instantly smitten by the artist helping with his newest project. When he witnesses James suffer a panic attack, a protective instinct he never knew he had kicks in. He truly believes nothing is unobtainable—including James—if he's willing to put in the time and effort. James is shy and confused by Seth's interest in him as a person. With Seth's support, can he work through his fears to finally find the true love he deserves, or will someone finally land the crushing blow he won't survive?

Leseprobe

Copyright

Published by

Dreamspinner Press

5032 Capital Circle SWSte 2, PMB# 279Tallahassee, FL 32305-7886

USA

http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com/

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Designs of Desire

Copyright © 2013 by Tempeste O’Riley

Cover Art by Reese Dante

http://www.reesedante.com

Cover content is being used for illustrative purposes only and any person depicted on the cover is a model.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without the written permission of the Publisher, except where permitted by law. To request permission and all other inquiries, contact Dreamspinner Press, 5032 Capital Circle SW, Ste 2, PMB# 279, Tallahassee, FL 32305-7886, USA.

http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com/

ISBN: 978-1-62798-004-3

Digital ISBN: 978-1-62798-005-0

Printed in the United States of America

First Edition

July 2013

For the Mels, Dianne, Andrew, and Nikki; thanks for encouraging and kicking me in the pants when needed. And for my personal hero, Markus; thank you for being you!

I’m so proud to know you all.

To everyone that has ever felt betrayed by both others and their own bodies, never give up hope because your HEA is out there waiting for you! Love has no limits….

Chapter 1

667, 668, 669….

A file slapped the desk in front of James, distracting him from his attempt at counting the dots in the ceiling tiles above him.

“I know you’re busy and all,” Brian said, his usual sneer in place. “But do you think you’ll have time to help a new client?” The man just lived to give him a hard time.

James took a deep breath. He desperately hoped his hatred of the man towering over him didn’t show. James knew open displays of boredom pissed Brian off, but James hadn’t had a prospective or existing client call in two days. He’d finished his purchasing reports, sent the work orders and e-mail. All calls done. What else was he supposed to do?

“Sure, Brian. Let me see what we’ve got, and I’ll head right out,” James replied. He tried to sound upbeat. It wasn’t that he didn’t like his job; he did. But Brian hated him, and he always got the leftovers—usually clients the other designers did not want for one reason or another.

“I’m sure this one’s right up your—” Cough. “—alley,” Brian finished with a snicker.

James never figured out how someone so hateful and narrow-minded as Brian stood working in their field, much less kept his job. In James’s opinion, art, even corporate branding and design, should attract people with a bit more open-mindedness. He had a few ideas on the latter but kept his opinions, and gutter-mind, to himself.

Forcing a smile across his face as he opened the folder in front of him, James called out to Brian’s retreating form, “No worries, boss.”

Brian paused and turned to look over his shoulder and with a nasty smile added, “Oh, and the guy’ll be here in about ten minutes. Don’t screw up.”

Ten minutes? Seriously?

He started to peruse the new client information, pleased that at least the file seemed to be complete—charts, images, budget, etc.—and his phone rang. He answered on the second ring. “Good morning, James Bryant speaking.”

“Ah, Jamie, got the file yet? ’Cuz let me tell you, this one’s something else” came the disembodied voice of his best friend and co-worker, Chase Manning. “He’s not like most of the scraps Brian-the-dick tosses you.”

“I’m sure I can handle whatever he sends my way. The clients aren’t usually as difficult as Brian and the others make them seem. They just don’t want to deal with high maintenance or quirky. Which, when you consider the job, makes no sense. But—”

“Jamie, dear,” Chase said, cutting him off. “That’s not it at all. This guy’s hot, and I mean H-O-T, hot. He’s waiting for you already and man, I so wish I had your job today,” he practically squealed. “So hurry up and get your sexy ass down here. Now.”

“Shh…. Don’t be so loud. The last thing I need is you to offend a new client. Now, go back to work and let me read over the file, would ya?” He shook his head and clicked off his Bluetooth. James glanced over the information for his new client. Seth Burns? Carl, their senior manager, had been trying to get Mr. Burns of Carrington Enterprises as a client for years. Wonder what he’s looking for and how this project slipped past Brian to me?

Setting it aside, James pulled out his messenger bag and loaded it with the folder. He already had all his staples in there: pens, pencils, a notebook or two, and a couple of sketch pads. He carefully hung it across his neck and shoulder so the bag wouldn’t slip. He preferred his backpack, but his boss frowned on “casual.” James gathered his forearm crutches, the plain black ones he only used for work, and he began the arduous task of getting up before he slipped his arms through the cuffs.

Once satisfied he wasn’t forgetting anything, James slung himself down the hall to the elevator, where he waited. He hated standing there, given Brian’s office faced the hall.

When James reached the main floor, Chase seemed to vibrate as he waited for him. His face reminded James of a child at Disney World instead of the twenty-five-year-old man he actually was.

“Do you want to meet with him down here in one of the conference rooms?” Chase pleaded, batting his eyes for full effect. He knew better than to act like that, but, oh well.

“Relax, Chase,” James said with a smile. Chase, his sometimes assistant and best friend, always worried about James walking too much, but then he never managed to understand the idea of limitations versus inability. James could walk, though he couldn’t walk far or carry much of anything. He simply needed his crutches. Limitations James loathed but had learned to accept.

“I just hate you traipsing up and down the halls. I wish—”

“Don’t,” James snapped harder than he’d meant to. “Sorry. You know I appreciate your concern, but I’m a big boy and can manage fine. Now, go back to your desk and do your job so I can do mine.”

With a huff, Chase flounced back to his desk. “Fine,” he called over his shoulder. “Be that way.”

James ignored him and pushed on, maneuvering himself around to reception to meet his new client.

He looked around and nearly gasped. The only man sitting in the waiting area was… beautiful. There was no other way to describe him. Dark hair, a straight, aristocratic nose, and a full, pouty bottom lip. And built? He wasn’t bulky but smooth and toned. The kind of body that comes from serious work and forethought.

Yummy, James thought but quickly corrected his wayward mind. He’s here for my work services, not me. At twenty-eight, he had already given up on finding his prince. He didn’t even bother trying anymore. He knew he was a good-looking man—having been told so many times over the years—but Victor, his ex, had taught him that he was too much trouble for a real relationship. Not like anyone asked him out since the accident and the stupid sticks, anyways. Focus on the job!

The man rose and held out his hand. “Mr. Bryant, I presume.”

“Yes, and you’re Seth Burns, correct?” James replied, pausing in his motions to take the crutch from his right hand and offer it in return for the handshake.

Seth nodded, a bright smile stretched across his perfect face.

“Wonderful,” James said. “I apologize for the wait. Now, if you would come with me. I’d like to discuss what you’re looking for, and what I can do for you.” James readjusted his crutches, turned, and headed toward the conference room he used on the first floor.

As they approached the door, James grabbed for the handle. Humph. Seth beat him to it, pushing the door open. Once the initial surprise died, he was left wondering why Mr. Burns had done that—no one but Chase helped him at the office. The only other time anyone helped was out of pity. He hated pity.

“Um, thanks,” he mumbled, trying to sound grateful instead of mildly annoyed.

“You seemed to have your hands full and mine weren’t,” Seth said with a shrug.

James knew his hands were full, but they always were. He hated being viewed as less of a man, or a cripple, because of the sticks he used to help him walk.

“Right, thank you,” he said, sliding into one of the rolling leather chairs at the back of the long cherrywood table. He placed his crutches against the closest wall for easy retrieval.

James gestured to the chair across the conference table and hoped Seth would sit. He hated to be stood over. Seth smiled and settled into the chair indicated. “Now, what can I do for you, sir?”

“We, Carrington Enterprises, are beginning a new venture and hope you can help with designs. Companies I can manage; design and draw, not so much.”

James nodded at Seth’s pause.

“Let me start by explaining the project you will brand. We’re opening a new hotel chain. This will be a little different than your usual hotel, though. Each site will be more like a large bed and breakfast, but they will cater to the GLBT community. It’s often an issue when a couple wants to vacation. They have to consider the area, the hotel, the other patrons even if they want to do something as simple as hold hands. That is, if they don’t want to be met with hate or possible violence.”

James wasn’t sure which impressed him more, the wonderful idea behind the hotel or the deep, commanding voice that instilled confidence in everything Seth said.

Obviously unaware of James’s internal dialog, Seth continued his spiel. “With our liberal policies and views, we have decided to make a place where judgment doesn’t exist. At least, that’s the theory.”

God, that voice! James shivered.

“Also, each site will have a club, bar, or restaurant attached. So, this will be an ongoing project, not a one-shot deal.” When finished with his little speech, Seth seemed inordinately pleased with the idea.

No wonder Brian gave me the account. He didn’t realize he had spoken aloud until Seth glowered at him.

“Excuse me?” Seth snapped. “I was assured you have no personal issues or biases that might hinder your ability to provide the needed work. Was I incorrectly informed?”

“No. No, sir. I apologize for my comment. It was out of line,” James said in a rush, trying to smooth over the obvious irritation his thoughtless words had caused.

“Are you able to do the branding or should I continue elsewhere?” Seth demanded.

“You misunderstand, Mr. Burns. I had wondered why I was given your account, considering I’m not one of the senior designers and your account would normally be reserved for one of them. Now that I hear what the project is, I understand why I was chosen.” He knew he was babbling but he couldn’t help it. “You see, I’m the only openly gay designer here and my family runs a small bed and breakfast. This project is perfect. In fact, once we have the branding set up, I’m sure I can point you in the right direction for some specialized marketing. Magazines, newspapers, websites, et cetera. We will help you with all of that, as well.” James tried to restrain the extent of his excitement over the project, but was unsure how successful he was. He didn’t want to seem flippant or inexperienced after admitting he was a junior designer with Skye Designs.

Seth raised an eyebrow and smiled. “Excited, are we? Carl said you were the man for the job. I guess he was right if enthusiasm counts. I have a full write-up of what we need and what we do and do not want to incorporate into the brand.” His smile fell and he became all business again. “This is an upscale getaway, not a high-priced bathhouse.”

“Understood, sir. I think the idea will work in areas with a large enough population of GLBT and open-minded people.” His hands itched to begin sketching and planning.

“Good. Once you’ve read over everything and start your designing, I want you to visit the site we chose for the first hotel. It’s here in Milwaukee, so it shouldn’t be too far for you. Would you be ready by Friday?” At James’s accord, Seth opened his briefcase and began pulling out folders and large manila envelopes and setting them in front of James. He paused, peered up at James, and blinked hard. “I should call someone to carry these things for you,” he mumbled, glancing at the items and toward James’s crutches. “You can’t fit all this in your bag.”

James pinched the bridge of his nose while counting to ten in his head. Why do they always see the sticks instead of me? “Mr. Burns.”

“Seth, please,” he interrupted, giving James a soft smile.

“Seth, Chase acts as my assistant when needed. He will tend to anything I can’t transfer up to my office personally. There is no need to be concerned.”

A strange look flashed across Seth’s face, but his expression quickly returned to his previous in-command smile. “Very good then.”

They chatted a bit about ideas and plans before Seth shifted his coat sleeve back to check his watch. With a slight frown, he said, “Well, I need to head back to the office. I will leave this all in your fine hands, James. Please call me here.” He pulled out his business card and wrote something on the back. “I look forward to our next meeting.”

Seth held out his hand. James flexed his fingers and clasped the offering. He knew this was for work, but somehow it felt different this time. Warm and strong, the grip shot tingles up his arm. Seth seemed to hold on a little longer than necessary for business needs. It had been so long since a man touched him, at least without violence or pain. James shook off the thought he might be interested. Beautiful men like Seth didn’t waste their time on guys like him. Besides, he wasn’t certain he wanted to go down such a painful road again.

James stood in the doorway, watching Seth saunter out the main doors, wishing for something, though not really sure what.

“So,” Chase said, bounding into the room. “Is he hot, or is he hot?”

“Hot? Yes. But, he’s also my new client and I’m not positive he’s gay. Even if he is, he’s probably taken. Men like him don’t stay single for long. Anyways, help me get all this upstairs. I need to get started. He wants me to visit the local site this Friday.”

DRIVINGthrough the morning fog, James headed to the hotel construction site. Seth had assured him it was almost completed and was safe to visit. James pulled in and parked up front, then grabbed his backpack—the one he used outside the office to carry items—off the passenger seat. James slung the pack onto his back. He set his sticks in the gravel of the parking area, climbed out of his blue CRV, and headed up the wide, stonework stairs to the main entrance of the soon-to-be hotel. Hate stairs, he sulked. The ramp wasn’t finished yet.

Once he entered the foyer, James allowed his gaze to wander around the entryway, taking in the welcoming setting. Noticing a worker passing through, he asked, “Excuse me. Do you know where I can find Mr. Burns?”

“Yeah, he’s in the manager’s office over there.” The man was covered in dust. He gestured toward a closed door near a large desk, then continued on his way. James couldn’t help looking around once more to admire the rich wood tones, marble tiled floors, and beautiful crown molding, before he headed off in the right direction.

Before he could knock, the door swung open and a harried-looking woman stormed out, slamming it so hard it popped back open. Maybe now isn’t the best time, he thought and started to turn away when Mr. Burns appeared in the doorway.

“James,” he said. “Thank God you’re here. Please tell me you brought some ideas, before Stacey drives me to drink. She wants to start painting but can’t until we have everything settled with the designs.”

The way Seth’s eyes pierced him made James feel both nervous and ten feet tall at the same time. “If you have some place I can set up, sure. I have a few designs for you to look over.” He kept wondering why they had waited so long to employ Skye Designs. Normally you do all the branding much earlier in the project.

Motioning down the hallway, Seth led him into a large room—probably meant to be a conference or reception room, considering the carpet and acoustic tiles in the ceiling. “Come in. What can I do to help?” he asked, watching James settle into a comfortable chair before unloading his pack.

James was nervous. He’d never had such a significant or large account before, but he was excited as well. “We normally have the designs approved before getting to this point, but I’ll do my best to catch up. Give me just a minute to set up, then you can see what I have.”

“We’ll get to that in a few. I want you to finish setting up then come with me.”

James stopped midmotion and looked up, confused. “I thought—” He shook his head. “Never mind. Okay.”

Seth led James out of the room, into a wide hallway with large windows spilling filtered sunlight onto the veined marble floor, and began showing him around. Seth stayed close, so close James occasionally caught a whiff of his intoxicating scent, something bright yet deep—cardamom and cedar with a light musk. He wasn’t sure, but he was beginning to think just being near Seth could become a delicious addiction.

As they exited the elevator on the second floor, James stopped dead in his tracks. His heart beat so fast and loud he felt certain Seth would hear it slamming into his ribs. He stared ahead and prayed he was having a terrible nightmare. Those he could wake up from. Please!

Standing there, looking him up and down, was a phantom from his past. Victor d’Leone was even more powerfully built than the last time he had seen him. He stood in the hall, his arms crossed over his barrel chest, scowling. The sea-foam green eyes James once thought so beautiful and loving now bored holes through him. The ghosts of the last time Vic had been near him shot pain-filled shards of memory through him. Away. Yes, he had to get away.

“I… I… I…,” James stammered. He scrambled back into the elevator and almost fell when his left crutch slipped on the metal edging. He punched the close door button repeatedly while fighting the panic attack threatening to destroy his job and sanity. “No, no, no. Not happening,” he mumbled.

He hadn’t waited for Seth to react, nor had he explained anything; he’d just bolted. James headed toward the exit as soon as the elevator doors opened—forget the damn presentation. He scrambled for the steps, desperate to reach the car before he completely lost it.

Life was never that easy.

Seth appeared out of nowhere, sprinting after him in his expensive Armani suit and custom leather shoes. “James! Stop!” he commanded.

Fighting the panic, James tried to get a hold of himself. Stop? Is he nuts? “I can’t be here. I—I’ll come back later.” With protection!

A powerful hand grasped his right arm. Startled, he stopped. Staring at the hand that bound him to his worst nightmare, he begged, “Please, let me go.”

Try as he might, he couldn’t stop the panic and fear as it suffocated him.

Chapter 2

“JAMES,” Seth said, placing his other hand on James’s lower back. Exerting gentle pressure, he steered James away from the front doors, toward the office. He was desperate to leave, but couldn’t bring himself to pull away from the warmth and strength of Seth’s hands.

“Take a deep breath.” Seth’s soft command offered shelter. He found himself doing just that as Seth guided him into a chair. Seth took his crutches from him and leaned them against the desk.

James struggled to calm down and not do anything else to embarrass himself. His gaze flicked repeatedly to the door, as he was afraid Victor might follow like Seth had. In his mind he knew he was safe, but he’d be damned if the rest of him wanted to listen.

Seth placed a cold bottle of water in James’s hand, giving him something to clutch other than his own fingers. “Drink, slowly,” he instructed.

Without thinking, he followed Seth’s directions, grateful for the sanctuary and care. He wasn’t sure why, but Seth’s take-control way of handling him soothed his frayed psyche in a way he hadn’t expected—and wasn’t sure he wanted to like.

Seth didn’t say anything for a long time. He just continued to keep physical contact with James, his hand on his shoulder. He didn’t exert pressure or move in any way but left it there for comfort and support.

“Feel better?” Seth asked once James’s breathing had returned to almost normal.

With a nod, James replied, “Yes. Sorry about that. Um, is he—why is he here?” James knew it was probably a stupid question, but he didn’t care. Moving away from that warm, strong hand would hurt too, though.

“Vic? I don’t know what your problem is with each other, but he’s the assistant foreman for the construction crew working here. He’s an ass, but I’ve never seen him look like that, nor have I seen anyone react to him as you did.” He waited but didn’t ask why James had panicked, although James was sure he was dying to.

“I need to get my things and leave, Mr. Burns. If this is his workplace then it’s me that needs to go. I will be happy to meet you at your office or mine, if you’d rather. I apologize for my behavior and hope you won’t hold it against me or Skye Designs,” James said. He sat up straight and tried to regain at least a little of his lost dignity.

“I will agree, for now, with moving this to my office. Are you up for an afternoon meeting and presentation?” Seth inquired.

“Yes, sir,” James said, sounding a bit more calm and like his usual self.

“I expect to see you at three o’clock sharp.” They spoke for a few more minutes, until he was able to convince Seth it was safe to allow him to drive. Seth returned his crutches and walked him to his car, then insisted he would have one of his people transfer the presentation materials to his office for their meeting. Seth only stepped away from James as James settled into his car.

After a quick call to Chase to let him know he’d be out of the office the rest of the day, James went home, lay down on the couch, curled his knees up to his chest, and tried to get through the rest of his panic and pain. He hadn’t seen Victor since the cops removed him from James’s old apartment, two years ago, having gone so far as to change many of the places he frequented in the hopes of never seeing the man again. And now? Now he may have lost the best account he’d ever had because of that damn man.

WATCHING James panic and run had been painful for Seth. The handsome man had captivated him from the moment their eyes met. His piercing blue orbs and serious demeanor were what he saw first, but once they got to talking, James’s enthusiasm and eccentric way of moving his hands while talking—almost like he was sketching his thoughts in the air—made Seth ache to know more about the man, not just his job. But, he couldn’t shake the image of James as he trembled on the edge of a full-blown panic attack. What the hell happened to him?

“Mel,” Seth said after tapping his Bluetooth.

“Yes,” he confirmed when the digital voice asked for verification, and moments later he heard his best friend and lawyer on the other end of the line.

“Hey, Seth. What’s up?” Mel asked.

“I need you to do me a favor, and I need it fast,” Seth said, ignoring basic formalities. This is Mel, he’ll understand.

“Well, hi to you too. I take it something happened with your new project?”

“More like to my design specialist. I was there but still don’t have a damn clue what the hell happened.” Seth needed answers and wanted them before his afternoon meeting with James.

“It’s a good thing I like you so much, because right now, you’re being strange, even for you. What happened? And give me the guy’s name; I’ll see what I can find.”

Seth gave Mel a quick recap and clicked off once Mel promised to send anything he found straight to his phone. He figured he should get some use out of the smartphone he had, and this was the perfect opportunity.

WALKING into the corporate offices of Carrington Enterprises, James looked around and tried to get a feel for the people and the company. While he knew of C.E., he’d never been there, and thanks to the morning’s disaster, he was nervous.

After he spoke with the receptionist, he sat and waited. The young woman gave him an odd look, though he wasn’t sure if it was because of his crutches or something else—since he wasn’t at the office and this was a GLBT project, he’d decided to use the rainbow hued set Chase had bought him for his last birthday. Deciding to ignore her, he pulled out one of his sketchbooks and proceeded to tease out alternative designs for his current project and, well, for anything his muse threw his way.

The off-white sheet in front of him faded as shapes and ideas filled his vision. The world receded around him as his muse guided his hand, his heart racing with the thrill of a new creation.

He was deep in his sketching place, that mental realm he always went when inspiration took over, when he became aware someone was watching him. The thought ran through the back of his mind that he should probably find out what the person wanted, but he needed to finish the rough draft first.

He put his pencil down, and the world came back into proper focus. When it did, he realized the person who watched him was not, in fact, the receptionist, but rather Seth Burns, the man he was here to see. The man he’d lost it in front of and now ignored. Way to win friends and influence, huh.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Burns,” James said. The heat of a blush raced up his throat.

Seth gave him an amused smile. “Come on up, James. We can discuss your presentation as well as your artwork there,” he said with a nod toward the pad.

James put the sketchpad away and got to his feet, slowly working his way toward the elevator Seth indicated. “I’m glad you could make it back today,” Seth continued and pushed the button for the top floor. “I have a few people upstairs that wish to see your presentation as well. I had all your equipment and papers transferred to my office, though I didn’t understand the bits I looked at. I am hoping you can make it more people-friendly. I have to say though, Stacy, the woman you saw this morning, is in love with one of the packets.”

Confused, James wondered which design set she’d looked over. He’d only brought a few of the physical designs, having kept the rest on his laptop for the presentation. “I’ll do my best,” he mumbled. He caught himself fidgeting and tense again, a state he hated but couldn’t do anything about—not with Seth around, anyway.

Once they reached the executive floor and exited, Seth led him to a solid oak door. As they walked in, without knocking, they were met by a handful of others in expensive suits and long faces. It was obvious they were not amused to have been dragged in for this late Friday meeting. Well, five long faces and an excited one that seemed to be going through his things.

“Excuse me, ma’am, but until I have a chance to do the presentation, could you please refrain from rearranging and touching things?” He didn’t mean to be snippy, but he hated when people messed with his work before he was ready. Shouldn’t have left the stuff at the site, he thought, but he’d been in no state to collect and transfer everything himself.

“Stacy, put James’s work down. Now,” Seth said in such an even voice that the steel behind it was almost hidden.

“Sorry, Seth, but have you seen any of his designs yet?” she asked, her voice high and eyes bright. She returned all of James’s things to the desk.

“No, I have not. Now, sit and let the man do his job.”

“Yes, sir,” she replied, almost meekly. Her demeanor was a far cry from what it had been when she’d stormed out of the hotel manager’s office.

Seth sat with the others, looking expectant but calm.

After he rearranged and added a few things, James set about showing the designs he had brought. He offered three options for the hotel plus a few unfinished but excellent design sketches for the restaurant. Each incorporated at least one common GLBT theme, but in a tasteful and subdued way that gave off the class and polish they had asked for while still showing off the sexuality theme the project was tailored around.

They listened and asked questions, but James found Seth’s quiet attention unnerving. It also served to keep him aware of every move, shift, or sound the man made, increasing his interest and nervousness—no man had affected James in years, and he was at a loss as to why now, and why this man. Seth looked over the designs; he seemed to see more than the images in front of him, and waited while the others talked, argued, and finally left.

Once they were alone again, Seth looked up, calmly placing the last of the papers down, and looked James over in a slow perusal. “How long have you been designing for Skye Designs?” he asked, his tone smooth and level.

“About five years. I assure you, I am not new to this, if that’s concerning you.”

Seth made no comment to James’s nervous worry. “And the work you were doing when I came to collect you, may I see it now?”

As much as James didn’t want to hand over the sketchbook, something about the way Seth asked made it impossible for him to say no. He was careful as he maneuvered over to his pack and drew it open, retrieving his work, rough though it was, and handed it over without meeting Seth’s eyes. He didn’t let others view his work until it was done. While he still drew and painted, no one saw his true art anymore. Not since he’d given it up to get a real job and be a man.

Seth opened the pad and examined the drawings within. He didn’t stay on just the one sketch, but began turning the pages. James couldn’t tell what Seth thought of the sketches since he kept his face too well controlled.

After what seemed to James to be an eternity, Seth sat the pad down and looked at him. “Get your things, we’re going to go get something to eat, then we will discuss the designs and this,” he finished and tapped the sketchbook. Without waiting for any response, Seth gathered up the materials, setting them on his desk, then grabbed his coat, phone, and keys.

James stood staring for a moment, baffled by the man’s actions as much as his words. “Um, sir, there’s no need to feed me. If you need time to think over the design needs or to collaborate with the others, I understand and can return next week.”

A small smile played at the edges of Seth’s lips, which drew his attention, making him even more aware of Seth’s natural sensuality. He probably doesn’t even realize how breathtaking he really is.

“James, we both need to eat, so unless you have somewhere you need to be right now, why not eat with me?”

His calm and matter-of-fact way of putting it made James agree before he had really even thought to respond. “Okay,” he said, but it sounded more like a question to his own ears.

After they loaded everything into James’s CRV, Seth’s car service picked them up. With only a little pushing, he was able to convince Seth to tell him where they were going, Bacchus—an expensive, five-star restaurant on the waterfront.

James attempted to protest but was silenced when Seth gave him a quelling look. “I said I’m hungry, you’re accompanying me to dinner, and this is where I wish to eat. When it’s your turn, you may pick the place.”

It had been ages since he’d gone out to any place like Bacchus, even before Victor, since he hated places like that, making fun of their refinements. Wait, did he just say “your turn”? Both James’s heart and mind seemed to trip at the thought of more alone time with the delicious Mr. Seth Burns.

“They have exquisite seafood and an extensive wine list. I’m sure you will find something that meets your tastes,” Seth explained as they were seated at a private table near the back—at Seth’s request.

After ordering his drink, James debated what to order—hiding behind his menu really. When their server reappeared with the drinks, inquiring about their order, Seth arched an eyebrow at James. “Trust me?” he asked. James felt so overwhelmed all he managed was a slight nod, fearing his voice would crack if he spoke. “Good.” Turning back to the server, he spoke again. “Yes, I’ll have the spinach salad followed by the tuna au poivre and the gentleman will have the roasted sweet potato salad with the grilled Scottish salmon.”

Once they were alone again, James spoke up. “I could have ordered for myself, you know.” He wasn’t damaged like that; he could take care of himself!

As if reading his thoughts, Seth chuckled. “Relax, I know you can. I simply enjoy caring for my dinner dates. I assure you, your interestingly colored accessories do not impair my opinion of you, or your abilities,” he added. The look Seth gave him went straight to his groin, causing his comfortable slacks to become rather tight.

“Now, I want to know more about your art,” Seth continued.

“Okay. Which of the designs are you and your team leaning towards? Once I have that, I will work on the full mock-ups and a wider range of modifications to fit your needs.” James was glad to be back on even footing. Work, design—that was safe. Comfortable.

“I need a little more time to make that decision. I was actually referring to the rather extraordinary sketches I saw in the book of yours. Where do you show?”

James’s mind went blank for a moment. Show? He almost choked, thankful for the temporary distraction as their salads arrived. After taking a few bites—wow, that’s good—he responded, though more in response to Seth’s piercing stare rather than anything he’d said. “I—I don’t. Not anymore,” he said, worrying the edge of his cloth napkin.

“Why not? What I saw, some of those rough sketches, as you call them, could be sold as is, now. For a nice sum I might add. The passion and sensuality in even the more mundane images speak to the soul, not just the eyes. I can’t imagine what a finished work would feel like if those are your roughs,” Seth explained.