Chapter Three

THE NEXT morning, Bruce woke to the most heavenly smells. He sat up and groggily rubbed his eyes, then glanced to the end of the bed to find Mittens gone. His company obviously couldn’t compete with freshly cooked bacon. The thought of it had his stomach growling, and with a yawn, he shuffled out of his bedroom and into the dining area, but came to an abrupt halt at the sight of the amazing spread on the small table. Where the hell had it all come from?

As if on cue, Jace came out of the kitchen, and Bruce had to blink a few times to make sure his eyes weren’t playing tricks on him. Holy hell, the man was… beautiful. To say he cleaned up well would have been doing him a grave injustice.

Unaware of Bruce’s stupefied state, thank goodness, Jace set a plate of toast on the table.

“I hope you don’t mind, but I thought I could thank you by making you breakfast. I didn’t know what you liked, so I made a little bit of everything.”

“You made all this?” Bruce asked, dumbfounded. He was pretty sure all he’d had in his refrigerator were a few eggs, a meager block of cheese, and a few strips of bacon.

“Yes. I hope you like it.”

Jace poured them each a cup of coffee and joined him at the table. The first bite was enough to make Bruce melt. My God, the man could cook—unlike Bruce, who had nearly burned the place down once attempting to boil an egg.

“Where have you been all my life?” he moaned, enjoying another forkful. He glanced up and nearly choked on his eggs. Whatever reaction he’d expected, it sure wasn’t the one he received. Jace was staring down at his plate, his cheeks a bright pink. It occurred to Bruce there was something he’d like for breakfast far better than eggs. To make matters worse, when Jace met his gaze, it was all too clear the guy was happy to be that something. That couldn’t happen. The poor fellow had enough problems without adding the complications of a tumble in the sack. The last thing Bruce wanted was for Jace to think Bruce expected something from him after all. For all he knew, it was the reason for Jace’s flushed face and not that the young man was queer. Making those kinds of assumptions could get a man dead, and Bruce had been around long enough to know better.

There was a time and a place for that sort of thing, and it wasn’t in his dining room with a fella he knew nothing about. He’d heard of flatfoots who went out to seduce men like him in the hopes of throwing him in the hoosegow. Good-for-nothing bastards. If someone got sloppy, it was on them, but entrapment? That was where Bruce drew the line. He cleared his throat and turned his attention back to his breakfast. “This is really good. Thanks.”

“Oh, uh, sure.” There was a hint of disappointment in Jace’s voice, but Bruce figured it was for the best. Definitely. Probably.

Jace started a conversation about sports, and before he knew it, they were chatting about the weather, news, radio, movies, and a host of other things. It was odd. Talking with Jace felt natural, like they were old chums, and considering what the man had been through, Jace wasn’t short of a sense of humor either. Soon, the part of the morning he’d been dreading was upon them, and Bruce got to his feet. He told himself once again it was for the best.

“I should get going,” Jace said, following his lead. “I don’t know how to thank you enough for what you’ve done. Maybe one day, when I get back on my feet, I’ll look you up and we can have lunch.”

“Or dinner,” Bruce said before he could stop himself. The sad smile on Jace’s face was too much, and the words floating around Bruce’s head made a break for it. “Say, I know a way you can thank me right now.”

Jace perked up. “Really?”

“My secretary got hitched, and I was gonna put an ad in the paper, but maybe… well, the pay ain’t great, the hours are pretty lousy, and you gotta put up with my sourpuss griping all day, but it’s steady work, and I pay on time.”

“You’re offering me a job?” Jace asked, gaping at him.

“Yeah. You were a clerk, so you got all the right skills. Plus, as my assistant, you can help me with cases. I’ll give you an advance on your pay, so you can find yourself somewhere decent to stay and some clothes that fit. You’ll be helping me out, really. I will warn you, I’m intolerable in the morning until I’ve had my java. Actually, that’s a yarn. I’m like that most of the day. I also break things. A lot. I constantly lose things too.”

“I… I don’t know what to say.” Jace breathed, the tears welling in his eyes.

Bruce walked over and gave him a hearty pat on the back. “Geez Louise, you don’t need to cry about it. I ain’t that bad.”

Jace laughed and wiped his eyes. “If Mittens can cope, I’m sure I can.”

There was a meow from under the table, and they both laughed. “Well, that’s settled, then.” Bruce crouched down and gave Mittens a well-deserved treat of bacon. “The lady of the house concurs.”

Bruce lent Jace an old flight jacket of his, and they walked to the office, where he spent the rest of the morning showing the kid around and pointing out everything that needed doing. To his relief, Jace was splitting at the seams, ready to get started. He left the kid to it and went to his desk.

THE NEXT day turned out to be a slow one, with mainly inquiries, as was the day after. When Valentine’s Day came, it was dead as a doornail. Of course that meant they’d be rushed off their feet the next day when the rose-tinted glasses came off.

Bruce sat at his desk with his feet propped up and tried to focus on the dime novel in his hands and not on Jace, who was buzzing around like a little busy bee—vacuuming, dusting, wiping, clearing old papers, and tidying everything he came across. Bruce had to admit, the kid did everything with gumption. His sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, his shirt collar undone, and his brow furrowed in deep concentration. Bruce was about to go back to his novel when Jace got down on his hands and knees to scrub something on the floor, his backside directly in Bruce’s line of vision. He allowed himself a brief, discreet moment to appreciate the firm, round, perky keister. That brief moment stretched on for longer than Bruce had the self-discipline for, and he found himself growing hot.

Up until then, they’d managed to keep a friendly distance, and Bruce was ashamed to say he’d even resorted to using Mittens as a way to get his mind off Jace, turning to her whenever he found himself getting lost in Jace’s pale blue eyes. Said feline was curled up on his desk, her head on her white paws and her gaze on Bruce as if she knew exactly what he was thinking, and wasn’t impressed. It didn’t help that Bruce had insisted Jace take his time finding his own place. That particular gem of an idea had struck early the previous evening when they’d sat together having dinner after a brief but intense search had yielded little results. They’d managed to get Jace some new clothes, but not an affordable place that wasn’t infested with rats, or already packed with several mugs, and Bruce didn’t like the idea of Jace staying in some derelict joint. Bruce’s apartment might not be the Taj Mahal, but it was clean and had running water and its own bathroom. Jace had been so grateful, he’d hugged Bruce, earning the kid an awkward pat on the back and a mumbled excuse that he needed the john.

Bruce tossed his book on his desk, got up, and went to the window. He needed some air. He hadn’t even realized how flustered he was until he somehow managed to get the thing stuck halfway up. Dumbly he leaned against the sill and whacked the window frame with his left hand. At that moment, Mittens meowed, and as he turned away, the window dropped and caught his hand.

“Goddamn it, son of a bitch!” he growled, jerking himself free. Not his brightest move, as it left a gash across the back of his hand.

“Jeepers, Bruce, are you okay?” Jace ran over and tried to get a look at his injury.

“No, I’m not okay! Son-of-a-bastard window fell on my hand, and it’s your fault!”

“My fault? How is it my fault?”

“You—” Sure, Bruce, you go ahead and tell him exactly how it’s his fault. “Nothin’, I’m fine.”

With an exasperated sigh, Jace headed to the tiny bathroom, calling out over his shoulder, “You’re not fine. You’ve cut yourself.” Seconds later, he was back with cotton balls, bandages, and iodine. He dragged Bruce over to the desk and pushed him to sit on the edge of it. “Give me your hand.”

“No dice, Scarlet. I can do it myself.”

“Scarret,” Jace corrected.

“No. Scarlet. Because you’re fussing like a dame. I’m not a baby.”

“No, just acting like one. Now give it here. I mean it, Shannon.”

That was what he got for letting himself fall for a pair of pretty blue peepers. Reluctantly he gave his hand over to Jace, ignoring the man’s chuckle when Bruce winced from the iodine. Well, it hurt, damn it.

“There, how’s that?” Jace asked softly, leaning into him as his thumb delicately stroked the bandage he’d applied, sending a tingle up Bruce’s whole arm.

“Yeah, it’s okay,” he mumbled pathetically.

“Does it hurt?”

You have no idea. “A little.”

Jace’s gaze went to Bruce’s lips before he seemingly snapped himself out of it and released Bruce’s hand. “I’ll clear this mess. Let me know if you need anything.”

“Aw, the hell with it.” Bruce grabbed Jace and brought their mouths crashing together. Surprise soon gave way to hunger as Jace threw his arms around Bruce’s neck and all but devoured him, pushing Bruce down onto his back and straddling him. Objects crashed to the floor, and Mittens wisely got herself gone.

Thank God his desk was made of sturdy stuff. Not that he was complaining. Jace’s slender, sinewy frame fit perfectly against Bruce’s brawnier one, and as his tongue explored every crevice of Jace’s mouth, Bruce knew he’d never tasted anything so sweet. The raw, burning desire between them was all consuming, and Bruce allowed himself to get swept away.

Jace buried his hands in Bruce’s hair, and Bruce found Jace’s deliciously plump backside. He dug his fingers into it and pulled Jace down against him as he thrust upward, bringing a deep groan out of both of them. Geez, the guy was as hard as he was. Gasping for air, Jace moved back and fumbled with Bruce’s belt buckle, but then someone called out from next door.

“Hello? Is anyone in?”

Bruce bolted upright, inadvertently knocking Jace off him, causing Jace to yelp as he hit the floor with a heavy thud. Shit. Bruce quickly helped him to his feet and looked him over.

“Sorry. You okay?”

“Yes,” Jace replied, rubbing the back of his head. “I’m okay. I forgot where we were.”

“Me too,” Bruce said, letting out a shaky breath. “Damn it, Scarlet. We gotta be more careful next time. Someone catches us and we’ll both be out on the street, if the bulls I know don’t decide to throw me in the Hudson first.”

Jace straightened his clothes and swiftly put Bruce’s desk back to rights, a big sappy grin on his face.

“What’s with the face?” Bruce asked, smoothing his clothes and hair.

“Thinking about the next time.” Jace beamed.

Bruce was much better at hiding his sappy grin. “Clam up and get the door.”

Jace chuckled and with a nod from Bruce, did as he was asked. On the other side was a tall, handsome man with auburn hair. His eyes widened as he stared at Jace, who in turn looked like he’d seen a ghost.

“Cecil?”

“Jace?”

Applesauce!