by Ella Frank
“Hey, before we open, I wanted to talk to you for a minute,” he said, and when a frown furrowed her forehead, Tate grinned. “Don’t worry, you’re not in trouble.”
She pushed the bar pass up and came around to take a seat on the stool beside him, bumping his shoulder with hers as she took a sip of her bottled water.
Over the last four years, Amelia had become a good friend to both him and Logan, and at work she was an absolute lifesaver. As part-time manager, she was quick and efficient, and had a personality that drew people in, which resulted in amazing tips and repeat customers, which was why he wanted to talk with her today. Tate had wondered if maybe she’d like to take on a little more responsibility and make a bit more money with some extra hours. One, because she was great at her job, and two, because it would free him up in the late evenings. Let him scale back somewhat.
When he’d first opened the bar, Tate had known he would be putting in late nights and that it would be difficult with Logan’s hours to make time for the two of them. But Logan had always been great about coming by after work so they could crash in the loft upstairs. That was until these last few weeks when this case Logan had been working on had gone into overdrive. It was one of the most demanding lawsuits Mitchell & Madison had taken on, and had practically taken over their lives, which had Logan and Tate’s schedules all over the place to where they’d barely seen one another. And damn if he wasn’t sick of barely getting ten minutes of Logan’s time here and there. He missed the hell out of him.
“So what’s up, boss?” Amelia asked, her blond ponytail swinging as she placed her arm on the counter.
Tate tapped the pencil he held on the bar and shoved aside those thoughts as he smiled at Amelia. “Nothing bad. It’s just I’m thinking of stepping back a little, and I need to hire someone to take on the later hours and closing up, that kind of thing. And I was wondering if you’d be interested in the position. It’d come with a pay raise, of course.”
Amelia twisted the bottle back and forth before saying, “Aww, Tate, I’m sorry. I was actually going to talk to you tonight about giving my two weeks’ notice.”
“What? Why?” he asked as his phone started to vibrate in front of him. “Are you unhappy?”
“No. Nothing like that,” she said, placing her hand on his arm. “I hate doing this, because you and Logan, you’re just the best. But I got accepted into nursing school and I signed up to attend full time.”
“Oh. Okay, umm, that’s not a problem, really,” he said, even as he thought about the hole her absence would leave. Amelia knew The Popped Cherry almost as well as he did. Not to mention their easy camaraderie and history. Trying to find someone that fit in even a tenth of the way she did was going to be close to impossible. “I’ll put out an ad tomorrow and start interviewing for a full-time manager then. We’ll find someone, don’t worry.” Seeing that it was Logan calling, he picked up the cell and said to Amelia, “Would you mind sitting in on the interviews once they’re scheduled, though? Just to get a feel for the people?”
“No. Not at all,” she said. “And I’ll be available to train them, of course.”
Tate smiled and nodded as she slipped off the chair and headed over to the front doors to officially open for the night.
Okay, well, that was the first thing he’d do tomorrow morning: put out an ad. Or maybe even tonight. He gathered up his clipboard and, as he stood, hit accept on the phone. “Hello, counselor. How’d the big case go today?”
Tate had been eyeing the clock all afternoon waiting to hear the outcome of the Berivax trial, and while he was happy it was finally going to be over, he also hoped all of Logan’s hard work had paid off.
“When was the last time we had sex?” Logan’s question was so blunt and unexpected it had Tate stumbling over his response for a second, and when he didn’t answer, Logan continued, “You don’t know, do you?”
The side of Tate’s mouth twitched at Logan’s disgusted tone. “Well, to be fair, you caught me off guard. I had to think for a minute.”
“And now that you’ve had time to think?”
“Umm…”
“Oh my God. You can’t remember,” Logan said, and Tate couldn’t stop his laugh then. “That’s fucking shameful.”
“We’ve just been—”
“Don’t say it—”
“—busy.” Tate headed over to the door that separated the bar from the tiny foyer and stairwell that went up to their loft, shut it behind himself, and took a seat on one of the steps. “Well, we have been. This case of yours has taken up most of your time, and with the bar hours we just got…busy.”
“Yeah? Well, that shit needs to stop. Right now.”
Tate leaned his shoulder against the wall and shut his eyes, picturing Logan with his jet-black hair, those piercing blue eyes, and that full, sensual mouth. Tate had barely had time to say goodbye to him this morning, and no matter how much he was laughing it off, Logan was right—this not seeing one another was bullshit. They needed to sit down and work something out, now that Logan’s schedule would be returning to something more manageable.
“Agreed,” Tate said. “Something needs to change.”
“Good. How about we discuss it at dinner?”
Tate winced. “I’m here until one.”
“Can’t you beg Amelia to stay and come meet me?” Logan asked, and if he hadn’t sounded quite so desperate, Tate might not have caved.
“Depends.”
“On?”
“What am I going to get if I come to you?”
Logan’s voice lowered to a tone that never failed to make Tate hard. “Me. All night. And maybe again in the morning. I’m in a giving kind of mood.”
Tate swallowed and stretched his legs out in front of himself, suddenly needing a little more room in his jeans. “All night, huh? It’s been a while since that happened.”
“It has. So come find me and I’ll rectify that little issue you’re having with remembering our weekend away at the cabin. That was the last time my cock was inside you.”
“Jesus, Logan.” Tate pressed a palm to his erection, recalling the weekend trip they’d made around three weeks ago. Or maybe it was four. Shit, okay. They did need to work something out if he was having trouble remembering that. “Let me get things settled here and I’ll be at your office in”—he checked his watch—“an hour? Hour and a half?”
“Perfect,” Logan said. “I’ll be waiting.”
“Logan?” Tate said before Logan could hang up.
“Hmm?”
“You never did say—how’d court go today?”
“Oh.” Tate could hear the satisfied smile in Logan’s voice when he replied, “They settled for thirty-five million.”
Tate’s mouth fell open, and when he finally managed to shut it again, he said, “Wow, that’s… Wow. Congratulations. Why didn’t you tell me that first?”
“Because there was something more important to discuss,” Logan said as though it should’ve been obvious, and Tate couldn’t stop himself from laughing.
“Your priorities are—”
“Spot fucking on for the first time in months. An hour, Tate.”
Tate got to his feet and opened the door to the bar, just as eager as Logan was to meet up. “An hour. See you then.”
“I’ll be here.”
And with that, Logan disconnected and Tate went to hunt down Amelia to ask one final favor.
Chapter Two
AS THE ELEVATOR doors opened on Mitchell & Madison’s floor, Logan was surprised to see Cole waiting for him in the lobby. He was leaning against the reception desk chatting with their receptionist, Tiffany, as Logan stepped off the elevator and walked their way. Tiffany was the first to spot him, and a bright smile split her lips before Cole turned his blond head and flashed a broad grin. Logan stopped when he reached the two of them, and chuckled when Cole picked up a glass tumbler and handed it to him.
“Now, this is what I call service,” Logan said, taking the gl
ass and saluting Tiffany.
“This afternoon I’m inclined to give you just about anything you want,” Cole said, and when Logan opened his mouth, his brother added, “I said just about—remember that before you issue anything too outlandish.”
Tiffany spoke up, sidetracking Logan for the moment. “Congratulations. We all heard the big news.”
Logan raised the glass and took a sip of the scotch, then aimed a winning smile in her direction. “Thanks. It was a pretty spectacular day.”
“That it was,” Cole said, slapping his palm on the reception desk. “And all of the clients were called to come in and sign, so they should be getting here within the next half-hour. Tiffany, send them in to the conference room when they arrive, would you?”
“Will do, Mr. Madison,” she said, as Cole nodded and both he and Logan headed to the double glass doors that led into their law firm.
As they stepped inside, Sherry, Logan’s PA, was right there to take his briefcase from him, and Logan couldn’t stop his laughter as he looked between the two standing in front of him. “Wow, I should win millions more often. A drink on arrival. Sherry’s here to take my things before I’m even two feet in the door. Tell me, do you have Tate waiting naked for me in my office? Because that would really be the perfect way to thank me for the past seven months and the fact that our firm just shot up to the number two spot in Chicago.” One of Cole’s eyebrows winged up, and Logan pursed his lips. “Is that a no? Okay. Then maybe when he arrives, in the next forty minutes or so, Sherry, you could have him escorted to my office so I can take care of that myself.”
Sherry had worked with Logan long enough now not to put anything past him, but her deadpan expression had Logan chuckling. “Okay, okay. I’ll at least wait until everyone leaves for the night. Better?”
Sherry rolled her eyes and asked, “Are you quite done?”
Logan raised his glass to his lips and swallowed the rest of the scotch down. “Hmm. Damn, that’s smooth. It’s the good stuff, isn’t it?” he asked, looking over at Cole.
“Yes, well, I thought you deserved it until about two seconds ago. I cracked open the—”
“Twenty-five-year-old single malt?” Logan whistled. “I really did impress you today. You’ve been holding on to that like it came from the fountain of youth.”
“Damn right,” Cole said, raising his own glass. “But if ever there was an occasion for it, this is it.”
“There is more where that came from, right?”
“Yes, but before you have another, there’s someone waiting in your office for you.”
Logan frowned, and Cole plucked the empty glass from him and shook his head. “And no, it’s not Tate.”
“Then have them reschedule. I told you I was done today.” Logan looked to Sherry, waiting for her to agree and go tell whoever it was to scram, but instead she said, “I explained you were finished for the day and would be back in tomorrow morning. But he insisted on seeing you and said he wouldn’t take up more than five minutes of your time.”
Logan looked to Cole, who held up his hands. “Don’t look at me. I followed your orders and had your drink ready.”
“He said he knows you,” Sherry said.
Logan let out a long-suffering sigh. “Does this man have a name?”
“Yes, of course. Mr. Bianchi.”
Logan racked his brain trying to locate or remember anyone by that name. When nothing stuck out, he shook his head. “He’s lying. I don’t know a Mr. Bianchi.”
“Well, he’s in your office,” Sherry said. “So maybe just go in there, see what he wants, and then tell him to come back tomorrow.”
“Thank you, Sherry, for that sage advice.”
“That’s what you pay me for,” she said, and beamed at him before she walked off to her desk with his briefcase in hand.
Logan looked to Cole, who was grinning after her, and then asked, “Why do I put up with her insubordination again?”
“Because she’s the only one who will put up with you.”
Logan slipped his hands into his pants pockets and made his way through several bustling desks toward his office, and called over his shoulder, “You’re probably right.”
“I am right,” Cole replied from behind him. “And come see me once you’re done. I’ll refill this glass.”
“Five minutes,” Logan said, as he reached for the door handle and pushed open the door. “Give me five minutes and then I’ll—”
Logan drew up short as his eyes landed on the man waiting for him in his office. He was tall and lean, which was emphasized by the charcoal slim-cut trousers he was wearing and the lightweight black turtleneck. But what really caught Logan’s eyes were the black-and-blue crocodile monk-strap shoes that matched the messenger bag the man was holding. There was no way in hell he knew this guy, Logan thought, as he walked inside and shut the door. Because he’d never forget someone who wore shoes like—
“Logan?”
As Logan raised his eyes from the bag the man was holding, he saw a face that was both different and altogether familiar staring back at him, and all he managed to say was, “Robbie?”
THE SUN WAS well on its way to setting when Tate finally stepped into the elevator that led up to Mitchell & Madison. He punched the button for Logan’s floor and leaned back against the wall, where he scrolled through his messages, making sure none had been missed on his drive over. When he was satisfied all was good, he reread the text Logan had sent twenty minutes earlier and couldn’t stop himself from grinning.
Logan: You coming yet?
And then, before Tate had been able to respond, a second had come through.
Logan: Scratch that. You better not have come yet. But seriously, are you on your way? This is not the night to be late, Tate.
Oh yeah, Logan was in a mood, and Tate had to admit it was exciting to see this side of his lawyer again. He was more than ready to get this little reunion of sorts underway.
When the elevator reached the firm’s floor, Tate slipped his phone into the back pocket of his jeans and stepped out into the elegant lobby. Tiffany must’ve already left for the day, as the reception desk sat empty and the only lights in the entry were the low security lights and the display spotlight that illuminated the Mitchell & Madison sign.
Tate, now a regular around the offices, headed straight through the glass doors to see several people still working at their desks, and the conference room at the back of the main floor lit up with about half a dozen people inside, standing around talking and drinking champagne.
He waved at a few of them, and smiled as he headed in the direction of Logan’s office, looking for the man they must’ve been celebrating tonight, and as he approached, he noted the door was shut. He passed by Sherry’s empty desk, about to go ahead and knock before entering, when he spotted Cole walking down the hallway. Tate stopped as the other man waved and took a sip out of the tumbler he held, and then he reached out to shake Tate’s hand.
“Hey there,” Cole said as Tate embraced him in a jovial hug.
“Hey, yourself. I hear a celebration’s in order tonight,” Tate said, eyeing the drink in Cole’s hand.
“That it is. I’ve gotta say, Logan really outdid himself this time.”
“That’s what I heard,” Tate said, crossing his arms as Cole took another sip. “I can’t even imagine how he must be feeling.”
“Pretty pleased with himself, I would say—and tired, apparently,” Cole said with a laugh.
“Tired?” Tate asked, not quite understanding.
“Uh huh. Your man is dead to the world in there.”
Tate looked at the shut door as though he could see through it, and then turned back to the man he now considered a brother. “You’re kidding, right?”
“About him being tired? Or asleep?” Cole asked.
Tate started laughing, the irony of it all not lost on him. Logan was finally free for the first night in months and he was too tired to stay awake past seven. “Of course he’s
asleep.”
“I mean, I probably shouldn’t have given him the third glass of scotch. But he was adamant you would drive the two of you to dinner.”
“Oh he was, was he?” Tate reached for the handle on the door beside him and shook his head. “Well, let me go and wake Sleeping Beauty and see if he’s in any condition to actually eat.”
“Tate?” Cole said with a smile. “Don’t be too hard on him.”
“Hard on him?” Tate asked, confused. Why would I be hard on him?
“Yeah. He’s been beating himself up about all the time he’s been spending on the case and was worried that you might be getting”—Cole looked slightly uncomfortable—“bored with him.”
Tate’s hand froze on the door handle as Cole’s words sank in. “Bored with him?”
Cole shrugged. “I told him he was being stupid.”
“Which I’m sure he loved hearing.” Cole’s chuckle told Tate he was right, but his words confirmed what Tate had been thinking about earlier today. He and Logan needed to sit down and talk this out, because clearly they were feeling the same but neither was wanting to bring it up. “Don’t worry,” Tate said. “I’m anything but bored with him. I miss him, that’s all.”
“That’s what I told him, but you know Logan…”
He did, and Logan was always worried about that dreaded word commitment, and what it meant to the two of them. “We’re fine, I promise. But I think it’s time I had a little chat with my lawyer.”
“I think so too. He did something wonderful today, and he should feel amazing. He made twenty-one families feel as though their lives mattered. That’s pretty special.” Cole winked and raised his glass in salute. “He also made us very rich. See you Sunday.”
Tate couldn’t help but grin as the usually serious Cole waggled his eyebrows and then turned to walk back to the conference room. He was spot-on. What Logan had accomplished today put the man close to sainthood. Tate remembered when Logan had first heard about the case and told him his concerns on taking on the pharmaceutical industry. But when more and more people had come forward with loved ones who had passed due to a faulty drug, Logan had become determined. This became a personal crusade. And though it had taken a slight toll on the two of them, Tate had never been prouder of Logan than he was tonight.
