Chapter 64
As if Bryce ever would.
Bryce runs his hands up Tim’s arms, feeling the firm muscles beneath the soft silk suit, then crosses his wrists behind Tim’s neck to keep them together. They can spare a few minutes, at least. His lips part and Tim’s tongue licks inside him, claiming him, demanding and eager. Is it eleven o’clock yet? Do they have to wait so long?
A faint knock on the door interrupts them. As they part, Tim stares down at Bryce, his hunger raw in his eyes. “Come in,” he calls out.
Bryce looks past Tim as the door opens and Alecia peeks inside. “Hey,” she says, apologetic, “your next interview is here. Should I tell him you’re busy, or…?”
“I’ll be right there.” Bryce smooths down his jacket and gives Tim a quick grin. “You I’ll see at eleven.”
Tim lets out a low, sexy growl. “Do you seriously expect me to wait that long?”
Reaching out to straighten his lover’s tie, Bryce laughs. “Yes, sir, I do.”
* * * *
Though he’s tempted to rush through the second interview, Bryce doesn’t allow himself to. His conference with Tim is scheduled for eleven. If he moves it up sooner, someone in the office may say something—someone like Alecia, who already has her suspicions about her boss and his executive assistant, Bryce knows. So he takes his time, drawing out the second candidate with boring questions about past work experience he really isn’t interested in, trying hard not to check his watch every few minutes, and ignoring the vibrating cell phone in his pocket. He knows Tim is texting him just to test his willpower. When the potential employee leaves at quarter til and Bryce finally checks his messages, the latest one reads, Is it 11 yet?
Bryce texts back, Close enough.
As Bryce passes her desk, Alecia looks up with a smile. “What did you think of those two? Will they work out?”
“I think they’re both perfect for the position,” Bryce tells her. “We still have a few left to interview this week, don’t we?”
Alecia glances at a stack of folders on her desk. “Five. That Jackson lady told me she hit on you. Gah, was she embarrassed! Kept asking if I thought it would hurt her chances of getting the job.”
If Mr. Eckhart has any say in it,Bryce thinks, but he doesn’t say that out loud. Instead, he simply gives Alecia an indulgent grin and shakes his head. “An honest mistake. I can’t help it if she thinks I’m all that.”
Alecia snorts with laughter.
“It’s the ones who persist after you say no who you have to kick to the curb,” Bryce points out.
Before Alecia can reply, the phone on her desk buzzes. She answers it and. almost immediately. her gaze flickers to Bryce, so he knows whoever’s on the other end asks about him. “Yes, sir,” she says. “He’s right here. Okay, I’ll tell him.”
As she hangs up, Bryce says, “Let me guess. He’s looking for me.”
“He says you’re going to be late for your conference,” Alecia tells him with an apologetic shrug.
“I say his clock’s off,” Bryce jokes. “Hold our calls, will you? We may be a while.”
* * * *
The door to Mr. Eckhart’s office is open, as it usually is when he isn’t in a phone meeting or a conference with Bryce. He likes to think of himself as accessible to his employees, though in reality, most of them who might have something to say stop at Alecia’s desk. A few make it past her to Bryce’s, but it’s rare if any actually bother Mr. Eckhart. He has a business to run. He doesn’t have time for petty squabbles and complaints about the coffee. That’s part of Bryce’s job description.
As are the daily conferences Bryce has with his boss. Those are one of the betteraspects of his position, he must admit.
Bryce breezes through Mr. Eckhart’s door and closes it behind him. Mr. Eckhart is seated at his desk, the folder for the Japanese account open before him, his attention divided between it and the computer monitor. The occasional click from the keyboard tells Bryce his boss is taking notes on the file, most likely in preparation for this afternoon’s telephone call. But it’s now eleven, and the door is shut. Just to be sure, Bryce makes a show of checking his watch.
Eleven-oh-one. He looks at Tim, who studies the monitor and doesn’t glance over at him. What happened to his ardent urgency a moment ago?
Two can play this game,Bryce thinks. Crossing the room, he opens one of the cabinets along the wall and starts to prepare for their conference. On his first visit to Mr. Eckhart’s office, he could have never guessed at what all was hidden behind the unassuming wooden panels, but in the years he’s been Tim’s yes-man, he’s learned the ins and outs of their contents. There’s a dry bar, as he suspected then, and he takes his time pouring a tumbler of whiskey. Over his shoulder, he says casually, “You have ten seconds to finish what you’re doing or we’ll reschedule this for another time.”
Behind him, he hears the keyboard clatter importantly. Tim assures him, “I’m almost done—”
“Might I remind you,” Bryce interrupts, “when that door is closed during our conferences, you no longer call the shots?”
He tries again. “Just a few more—”
“And there’s only one thing I want to hear out of your mouth,” Bryce continues, “until that door opens again. And what is that?”
Meekly, Tim admits, “Yes, sir.”
Bryce sips his whiskey, savoring the smooth burn down the back of his throat. “Good. So are you finished being insolent and ready to begin?”
One final tap on the keyboard, almost defiant, then the wheels on Tim’s chair squeak faintly as he pushes away from the desk. “Yes, sir.”
“The sofa, then.” Bryce leaves his drink on the bar and goes to another cabinet, which he opens to reveal drawers set flush into the wall. The bottles in the top drawer rattle as he opens it—lubricants of every scent and flavor and type. He wants something silky and smooth, something silicon-based, something…ah, here it is. A tube that claims to contain liquid ball bearings. Odorless, tasteless, slick but not greasy. His preferred brand. He doesn’t like to stain his business suits, or leave behind oily patches on the leather sofa he can’t clean away easily.