CHAPTER ELEVEN
“Thanks, Drew. I’ll get that report back to you tomorrow so you can take a look at it.” Thank God the tedious weekly wrap-up meeting was over. Thorne had thought some of the junior consultants were never going to shut up. At least now there were only a few hours left before he’d see Dash.
Drew frowned. “I’m spending the weekend at the lake. It’s my family reunion. We don’t have internet there, but I’ll be on it first thing Monday. We’ve got another week before we need it finalized.”
Thorne’s initial reaction was annoyance. His employees knew this wasn’t a nine-to-five job. Then he thought about telling Dash he didn’t take weekends off. Was he the only one who didn’t have a life? “That will work. Just make it a priority on Monday.”
“Yes, sir. I will. See you next week.” Drew grabbed his suit jacket from the back of his chair and turned to leave. Everyone else had left the room, except Sandra, one of the senior consultants. She and Drew nearly collided in their rush to get out the door. Apparently, Thorne wasn’t the only one ready to wrap up the day.
“You first.” Drew stepped out of Sandra’s way.
“Thank you. Have fun at the lake. Wish I could be there this weekend.”
“My mother-in-law will be with us, so it could be interesting. Hopefully I can spend most of Saturday on a raft with a beer.”
Sandra laughed. “I hope so.”
“What are you up to this weekend?” Drew asked as he followed Sandra out the door. Thorne was right behind them.
“I’ve got a date tonight, actually. And tomorrow I’m spending the day at the aquarium with some business-school friends who are in town.”
Thorne had been certain Sandra would be working. She often e-mailed him with questions and comments on weekends.
“First date?” Drew asked.
“Second.”
“Well, have a nice night.”
Sandra smiled. “I will.”
Thorne repressed a sigh. His weekend wouldn’t be completely lonely. He had a date that night too. Well, sort of. Did he really want that? A relationship? Since he hired Dash, he could ask him to leave anytime if he needed privacy or a quiet place to work. If they were dating, there would be different expectations. Not that he’d be dating Dash if he were dating.
“What about you, Mr. Shipton?” Drew asked, looking behind him. “Have you got plans for the weekend?”
Thorne fought the urge to scowl. Drew was being friendly. “Not really. Just catching up on work.”
Sandra frowned. “You should get out more.”
“You’re not the only one who thinks so.” Usually Thorne blew off comments like that, said something about working all weekend being a price he was willing to pay, but right then he wanted more weekend plans. He wanted to be like Drew and Sandra.
As soon as he reached his office, Thorne closed and locked the door. Then he pulled out his phone—his personal one, the one very few people had the number to—and called Dash.
“Hello, Thorne.”
Fucking hell. Dash said two words to him, and he was already horny. “I want you to stay the whole weekend.”
Silence.
“Dash?”
“I… I can’t do that.”
“Do you have other clients?” Thorne didn’t like the thought of Dash going from him to another man, which was absurd. He’d never been possessive about other men he’d hired.
“Not that it’s any of your business, but yes.” Dash’s tone was clipped, but Thorne didn’t care. He was determined to get what he wanted.
Maybe that’s why you can’t do relationships.
“Tell them you’re not available.”
“Thorrrrrne.” At least now Dash sounded more exasperated than angry.
“I’ll pay double.”
“That’s not the point.”
Dash made a sound like a growl. Rather than deterring Thorne, it turned him on.
“You’re a businessman; profit should be the point.”
“I can’t blow off my commitments. It’s not just clients.”
“Do you have a catering engagement? We can work around that.”
“Thorne, you cannot just call and demand my time. That’s not how this works. Other people may jump to do your bidding, but you didn’t hire me for that.”
“No.” He lowered his voice to the barest whisper. “I hired you to make me do your bidding.”
“Fuck, Thorne.” Dash’s voice had gone all husky.
“At least tell me you’ll think about it and call me back.”
Dash exhaled. “Fine.”
Thorne was reeling him in. He was sure of it. “I’ll relax. Watch movies with you. Let you cook for me.”
“Let me cook for you?”
“You said you enjoy it.”
Dash laughed, the sound rich and sensual. “Yeah, I did, didn’t I?”
“Think about it and think yes.”
“Go back to work, Thorne.”
Thorne ended the call. If Dash said no, he’d find some way to persuade him once he was at Thorne’s apartment.
RILEY STUFFED HIS phone back in his pocket, heart pounding. He’d stepped onto Susan’s porch to take Thorne’s call. Now he didn’t want to go back into the house. Thorne had rattled him, and Susan would see through him in a minute.
He racked his brain for an excuse to leave, but even if he came up with one, he couldn’t stick Susan with the rest of the work when he’d promised to help. He needed to call Marc. It would suck to admit that Marc had been right, that Riley had fallen for Thorne. He should have backed away as soon as he realized it, but no, he’d gone in for more, encouraging Thorne to let him stay longer, drawing him in by offering more than sex. Then the weekend had ended with that slow, thorough fucking from Thorne, and Thorne using his real name. Riley had nearly come apart.
He should’ve been angry. He should have told Thorne he wasn’t coming back. No matter how much Thorne seemed to truly like him, this was a business transaction to Thorne, nothing more. Thorne was an arrogant ass who wanted everyone to do his bidding. Riley believed he had a kind heart underneath the bluster, but even under the best circumstances, he’d be a bitch to deal with in a relationship. Besides, Riley was way too young to be on Thorne’s radar as an actual partner.
He’d stayed outside as long as he could. Taking a deep breath, he pulled back the screen door. Look calm. Look unconcerned.
“What’s wrong?” Susan asked as soon as he stepped back into the kitchen. He didn’t think she’d even looked at him.
“Nothing. Just a client call.”
“Is he giving you trouble?”
Riley shook his head. “No. Not really, not like you probably mean.”
“Riley?”
Her look said he better fess up. “He’s not harassing me or anything. In most ways, he’s an ideal client, considerate, respectful of me as a person, but he’s rich and spoiled and wants his way.”
Susan nodded like she knew the type. “And what way is that?”
“He wants to hire me for the whole weekend.”
“Hmmm. Sounds lucrative, but I’m guessing you have other plans.”
“Helping you with cupcakes for one.”
Susan waved that off. “I can handle that or get Lilah to help me.”
Her daughter, Lilah, hated baking, especially the more tedious jobs. “No, she won’t—”
“She’ll help if I need her to.” Susan’s tone said he wasn’t going to win that argument.
“I’m not going to break my commitments at the last minute just so my client can have his way.”
“I see.” Susan nodded. “There’s more to this than a change of schedule, isn’t there?”
Why am I so fucking transparent? When he was really into a client that transparency paid off, but the rest of the time it was fucking annoying.
“Riley?” She wasn’t letting this go.
“I like him.”
“That ought to make it easier. Or is a whole weekend too long to have to be ‘Dash’ instead of ‘Riley’?”
If only she knew how little of “Dash” he was with Thorne these days. “I mean I really like him.”
“Oh.” Her eyes widened. “Ohhhhhh. That’s a different problem.”
Riley sighed. It’s a problem all right.
“So you turned him down?”
“I told him I’d think about it, but I’m an idiot to think this could go anywhere, right?”
“I don’t know, are you?” Susan asked as she placed a pan of cheese straws in the oven.
“He’s forty-two.”
Susan dusted her hands on her apron. “Wow. Practically ancient.”
Riley remembered that Thorne was probably ten years younger than Susan. “No offense, but yeah.”
“That is quite an age gap.” She handed Riley a cookie press loaded with cheese-straw dough. “Here, prepare another pan of those, and I’ll get started on the spinach dip.”
“He’s also rich as fuck.” Riley said as he concentrated on making the cheese straws all the same length.
“I’m not sure I see the problem with that.”
Riley raised his brows, and she tried, unsuccessfully, to snap him with the towel she was holding. “We have nothing in common except…”
“Sex.”
Heat crept into his face. They were moving into uncomfortable territory. “Right.”
“Are you sure?” Susan asked. “Isn’t this the guy you went out to dinner with?”
“Yes, but—”
“Didn’t you say you enjoyed talking to him?”
“Sure, but that’s just the fascination of getting to know someone. It’s not sustainable.”
Susan shrugged. “Maybe not.”
“What do I do?”
“Whatever your heart tells you.”
“That is bullshit.”
She laughed. “Maybe, but I can’t tell you.”
Riley wanted an easy answer but admired Susan for not giving him one. He stepped behind Susan and caught her in a hug, not caring how messy they both were. “You’re awesome, you know that?”
“I try.”
When Riley finished helping Susan clean up, he hung up his apron and brushed the flour out of his hair. How did it always manage to get everywhere?
“Let me know what you decide and take care of yourself,” she called as he headed out the door.
“Will do.”
Once he was in his car, he called Marc who answered almost immediately. “Riley, it’s been too long. What’s up?”
“You were right.” He braced himself for Marc’s crowing.
“About what?”
“Thorne.”
Marc laughed. “Of course I was.”
“He wants me to stay for the whole weekend.”
Marc whistled. “Sounds lucrative.”
“Marc.” Riley’s tone was sharp.
“Sorry. Tell me what happened.”
“Not much to tell except that it finally happened. I fell for a client.”
“Like really, truly, your heart is totally in this, or ‘wow, this is the best sex of my life, I hope he keeps on hiring me’ fell for him?”
Riley sighed. “I wish it was the latter.”
“Fuck.”
“Yeah. You called it.”
“I was teasing.”
Riley knew Marc was lying, but he appreciated that he wanted to make Riley feel better. “No, you were serious.”
“I thought you were moony over him, riding the waves of really hot sex with a compatible partner, not truly falling in love.”
“What the fuck do I do?”
“What do you want to do?”
How was he supposed to answer that? What he wanted was impossible. “If I knew, I wouldn’t have called you.”
“I guess not, but seriously, have you thought this through? You’re coming to me for relationship advice?”
Marc had a point. He had a knack for picking the worst men ever. “I’m coming to you for advice from a fellow escort. This isn’t a relationship.”
“You want it to be.”
“No. Yes. I’m crazy, aren’t I? You know what Thorne is like.” Riley had come to resent just how well Marc knew Thorne. That alone should have set off warning signals.
“He’s a good man,” Marc said. “Despite his idiosyncrasies.”
“He is, but can you see us in a relationship?” The last word dripped with so much bitterness Riley wondered if it would burn the phone.
“Riley, how much do you want this?”
“‘This’ being Thorne?”
“No, a ride to the fucking moon. Of course I mean Thorne.”
“I don’t know.” He did though. He wanted it with all his heart in a way he’d never wanted a man before.
“That’s what you have to figure out, then. You’ve got two choices. You can walk away now, or you can work for what you want and risk it destroying you.”
Riley sighed. “That’s what I’m afraid of. Destruction.”
“You’ll survive whatever happens. But unless you want it bad enough to see where it leads and damn the consequences, the sooner you end it, the better.”
Riley’s chest felt tight as if someone were squeezing the air out of him. “It’s not going to lead anywhere.”
“That does not sound like the Riley I know. When have you ever been a pessimist?”
“I’m trying to be a realist.”
Marc sniffed. “It doesn’t look good on you.”
Riley wanted to reach through the phone and shake him. “You’re giving me mixed signals.”
“It’s not my decision to make, so I see the benefits of both choices.”
“If I try and it doesn’t work, then…”
“You’ll be hurt. It will tear you apart, but you’ll have tried.”
Marc sounded almost wistful. He was clearly in a strange mood that evening. “So you think I should stay?”
“I think you should decide how much you want this.”
He’d known neither Marc nor Susan would tell him what to do, but he hated having to make this decision on his own. “Okay. I’ll think about it.”
“Do the weekend if you’re undecided. Make the cash. You must have nearly enough for school by now if you’ve been fucking Mr. Moneybags for over a month.”
“God, Marc, you make it sound so—”
Mark tsked. “Baby, you’re his rent boy. You can’t forget that.”
“You just told me to—”
“I told you to use your assets and work for what you want because you just might get it.”
Did Marc truly believe that? “You’ve never been an idealist, Marc.”
“No, but you are. It’s adorable and probably one of the things Thorne likes best about you.”
“How do you know he likes me?”
“You wouldn’t be having this conversation with me if you didn’t think he felt something more than lust for your hot-as-hell body.”
There were hints, Riley had to admit that. Like the way Thorne had touched him so reverently last Saturday morning. And the way he’d asked if he felt the connection between them. And he did, but he didn’t trust it. “This is crazy.”
“Sure it is, as crazy as moving all the way across the country with someone you’ve dated two weeks.”
“I miss you, you know.”
“I do know. Let me know what you decide.” He sounded sad, not like his usual animated self. Were things okay with him? He doubted Marc would tell him the truth if he asked.
“I will.” Riley ended the call. A few minutes later, he arrived home, glad, despite the expense, that he hadn’t found a new roommate. He wanted to be alone with his thoughts.
How much do I want this? Way too much. He’d never met anyone like Thorne, never felt a fraction of what he felt when he was with Thorne. He’d only known the man a month, a fucking month, and he was already this far gone. Walk away. That’s what he should do.
He imagined never seeing Thorne again, never feeling Thorne’s hands sliding up his back, never hearing Thorne beg when Riley was buried deep inside him, never kissing him again like they’d kissed last week—long and sweet and like they had all day. They would have all day if he spent the weekend.
He’d lied to Thorne. He didn’t actually have any other clients lined up. He’d intended to be on call for Sheila on Saturday night. But why do that when Thorne was a sure thing?
He’d promised Susan to help her on Saturday afternoon, but Thorne wouldn’t mind if he took a few hours to do that. He could even bake at Thorne’s place and then take the food to Susan if he needed to. Why was he even pretending he wasn’t going to stay?
He picked up his phone and twirled it in his hands for a few seconds, heart pounding. Should he call Thorne? He could do that, or he could turn spending the weekend together into a game, a game that could prove fun for both of them. Instead of calling, he typed out a text.
Still undecided but willing to negotiate. Be prepared to submit to my demands when I arrive.
Thorne replied: That’s hot as fuck.
Riley smiled and tossed his phone on the bed followed by his T-shirt. Time to shower and get ready for the night. He’d need to pack a bag, because there was almost no chance that Thorne wouldn’t do everything he asked.