by Mary Calmes
“Of course,” she snapped. “Do you think I spend my holidays with just anyone?”
I smiled at her. “Now listen. It’s time, you know. Woman does not live by work alone.”
“Time to do what?”
“Date.”
“Bite your tongue,” she chided me, getting up and walking to the huge window in her enormous corner office.
“We’ll work on it.”
She made a dismissive noise.
“Don’t push me. I’ll have Joe call you.”
Her head turned so she could see me over her shoulder. “You and I both know that he’s irresistible. Please don’t sic him on me.”
“Well, then, I want to see you take a man to the opera fund-raiser in two weeks. If I have to go, you have to have a date.”
She grunted and did a quick turn so her back was against the glass. “What else about Ray?”
“If he messes up again, he’s going to do time, and there’s nothing you’ll be able to do about it.”
“Okay.”
“I talked to Weber Ford at the Chronicle, and he said he’d bury it as far back as he can.”
“Thank you.”
“You can’t be blamed for your family.”
“Oh, yes I can. Everything they do reflects on me.”
“It’ll be all right.”
“Or it won’t, but I refuse to just cover it up and end up owing the wrong people too much. It’s not worth my soul.”
“No. It’s not.”
“Thank you, Marcus. I’ll look forward to having you as a senior member of this firm.”
My gaze settled on hers in question.
“It’s time. We both know it is. Everyone here knows it is. You’ve worked hard; you’re the only one at this firm that every board member believes in. We’re voting Friday. I’ll have good news for you when you get back from your trip to… I’m sorry. Where are you going again?”
I chuckled. “Kentucky.”
Her face scrunched up tight. “What on earth for?”
“It’s great there, actually, and Joe’s grandfather is turning eighty.”
“I suspect he’s not the draw, but instead your charming partner.”
I arched a brow. “You think Joe’s charming?”
She laughed then, for the first time in days. “Yes, Marcus, I certainly do.”
“Huh.”
“Marcus.”
A voice saying my name brought me from my thoughts and into the present. The phone had been picked up on the other end, but not by Jael, because he would have called me by my warder name, Marot, and not my given name. There was also the voice itself to take into account. What I was being treated to was a sound much softer, smoother, richer, a smoky tenor in comparison to the usual growl of my sentinel.
“Ryan,” I said, knowing the man’s voice as well as my own. He had been my fellow warder a long time.
“Hey.”
“Tell Jael I landed in Lexington and I’m good, all right?”
“Will do.” He yawned first and ended with a sigh.
“Why’re you there?”
“Jael is thinking he wants to cook when Deidre’s warders come to visit next week.”
I wasn’t going to touch that one. “I’m sorry?”
“Well, you know that Deidre Macauley, the sentinel he’s been seeing from Edinburgh? She is having her warders fly over here to meet Jael, and he was thinking it would be a good idea to show them how well he could take care of her, so he was going to cook.”
“Okay.”
“Yeah, see, Malic thought the same thing. He thought Jael should have the dinner catered or take everyone out, and then the warders could see that he actually has money and can provide well for their sentinel.”
Being a sentinel, being a warder, was not a paid gig. Some sentinels and some warders were nowhere near the top of the food chain. Because of Jael’s inheritance and some very shrewd investing, his family fortune had grown tenfold in his lifetime. He could provide Deidre with quite a nice life, if that was what she wanted. Having met the lady, however, I knew that no man would ever have to take care of her. It would be nice for him to show off for her warders, though.
“I don’t get the cooking.”
“Neither do I, but whatever.”
“So you’re there teaching him how to cook something.”
“Yep.”
“Should I even ask what?”
“No, don’t ask. You don’t wanna know.”
I laughed because he sounded so pained. “Sorry,” I chuckled. “Just tell the big man I’m okay, and I’ll see you in a week.”
“What are you doing there again?”
“Joe’s grandfather’s birthday.”
“Oh, that’s right.”
Something occurred to me. “Maybe Deidre’s warders would like the idea of him cooking, of her being more involved with a man who treated his own warders like family—maybe that’s what’s up with the cooking.”
There was a moment of silence before he answered me. “Christ, it must be exhausting to be you, thinking about everything all the time.”
I grunted.
“I’ll call you if anyone dies,” he said.
“That’s not funny,” I told him.
“Did you pack your swords, or did you leave them at home?”
“Why would I pack my swords to come to a birthday party?”
“It is Kentucky.”
“So lemme get this straight. You’ve been all over the world, Mr. I-Used-To-Be-A-Model, but you think Lexington is some hick town where packing hook swords would be a good idea?”
“I have no idea.”
“I know you don’t. You’re just talking out of your ass.”
He huffed. Normally he wasn’t like that; he was thoughtful, not prejudiced against a place he didn’t know. Something was wrong.
“Are you going to tell me?” I asked.
“Tell you what?”
I stayed quiet and waited.
“It’s nothing.”
“Sure.”
“I’m just irritated.” He sighed deeply, breaking down. “One of Deidre’s warders, Collin something, artistic type with A Flock of Seagulls haircut, is already here, and I’m thinking from the looks of things that he finds my boyfriend somewhat appealing.”
If I were there, I would have wished Collin with the ’80s retro haircut good luck. No one was taking Ryan Dean’s hearth away from him… no one. And since Ryan was the kind of gorgeous that people stopped on the street to watch walk by, he really had nothing to worry about. But he loved Julian Nash desperately, so it wasn’t all that surprising that he was worried. It was, however, needless.
“You know, I’ve actually met Julian,” I soothed him. “He’s kind of the loyal type.”
“No, I know. It’s just… where does Collin get off disrespecting me?”
“I doubt he realizes he is. He just sees an attractive man he knows has the strength to be the hearth of a warder, and so he’s interested. I’ll bet you it’s no more than that.”
He grunted on the other end.
As a rule, Ryan was not volatile, but having a hearth was still new for him. He and Julian had yet to hit six months.
“How do you not try and kill anyone that comes near Joe?”
“You trust your hearth, Ry. The man is my home just like Julian is yours.”
He exhaled, and I understood that he had been more upset than I realized, and now he was calmer. “Okay.”
“Good.” I smiled into the phone. “Call me if you want to talk some more or if you need help hiding the body.”
“Will do,” he sighed, and he hung up.
I turned the corner, putting my phone back in the breast pocket of my suit jacket as I crossed the baggage claim area.
“Marcus.”
I stopped and looked around but saw no one I knew.
“Honey, maybe that’s not—”
“It is, El. I know his walk.”
“But the only guy
there is a black guy.”
Black guy?
“Ohmygod,” I heard the man I loved say in mock-shock. “Marcus is black?”
“Joey!”
I finally saw a woman peeking out at me from behind a large pillar and began walking over to her. As the room opened up, I saw more pillars and benches beside them. My partner, Joseph Locke, was sitting on one and across from him were his mother and father and sister.
“Marcus! Honey!”
They could have been on a poster for all-American wholesome goodness, the Locke family in all their glory.
“Marcus,” Joe called to me, louder than his mother.
“I hear you,” I called over to him so he’d know.
“Then hurry the hell up,” he grumbled.
Had he been able to see me, he would have seen my scowl, but he couldn’t, so I had to wait and smack him once I got there.
“Christ, Marcus,” he growled when I clipped him on the shoulder.
“You deserve that,” his father rumbled, an older, taller version of the man I loved. He had dark brown hair and the same pale eyes that had been gifted to his son. “Learn some patience.”
“I haven’t had coffee,” I warned Joe, “so don’t screw with me.”
He grunted.
“Yes,” his mother agreed, standing up to hug me. “Leave Marcus alone.”
Her, I liked. It was my boyfriend who was the grouch.
“How ya doin’, Deb?” I asked as I enfolded her in my arms.
I loved to look at my boyfriend’s mother: her dark blue eyes, short, wavy blonde hair, and sweet smile. I could see her in Joe, and I liked that.
She squeezed me tight, arms around my neck, and kissed my cheek, breathing out some tension. We had always gotten along well, even at our first meeting. I was always a big hit with parents; the word “lawyer” worked wonders.
“How was your flight?” Deb asked, leaning back to look up at my face, her arms dropping off my shoulders and resting on my chest. She was comfortable standing there in the circle of my arms. I was as much her kid as either Barbara or Joe, and that had been making me happy since I met her five, almost six years ago. I had lost my own mother when I was fifteen, so she was the only one I had.
“I had ‘the guy’ sitting next to me, you know, that ‘guy’, the one who wants to chat.”
“On the red-eye.” She was annoyed for me. “My goodness, why didn’t he just let you get some sleep?”
“I know why,” Joe grumbled.
“Shhh,” I shushed him.
“Oh, honey, you didn’t tell him you were a lawyer, did you?”
“That’s not the reason, Mother,” Joe snapped irritably.
“It was,” I lied, smiling suddenly, leaning to kiss her cheek. “I think he overheard me on the phone before we boarded.”
“How rude,” she continued.
“I’m never letting you fly alone again,” Joe muttered.
I ignored the love of my life in favor of his mother. “You look great, by the way.”
“Guys hitting on you—what the hell, you wear a ring, for crissakes!”
“And I really love the haircut,” I continued.
“Finally!” she almost shouted. “Somebody noticed.”
“You got a haircut?” Barbara asked, sounding shocked.
Deb’s exasperated snort made everyone laugh as she gave me a last squeeze before releasing me to her husband, who came up behind her to hug me as well. I liked that my boyfriend’s father didn’t just shake my hand; it was nice that he had to hug me too.
“How are you, Marcus?” he asked when he let me go and looked up at my face. “You took the red-eye out, huh? Tired?”
I groaned. “Yes, sir, but just get some coffee and food in me, and I’ll be ready to go.”
“Good.” He smiled before he stepped sideways so Joe’s sister Barbara could hug me.
I lifted Barbara Locke off her feet and crushed her against me.
“God, Marcus.” She giggled as I put her down, her hands on my face. “Why can’t I find one like you?”
“Oh, sweetie, don’t worry. There’s the perfect guy out there just waiting for ya.”
And there was. Barbara was smart and funny and classically beautiful with big blue eyes and high cheekbones and full lips. If I were straight, she would have been mine. But as it was, her brother was the one I pined for.
“Suck-up,” Joe said under his breath.
“Joseph,” Barbara snapped as she stepped back beside her mother.
“Did you guys at least give him a snack this morning?” I asked his sister.
“No, so that’s why he’s like this. He needs food, and coffee too.”
“Marcus, honey, let me introduce you to Ellen—”
“Wait,” Joe snapped, reaching for me.
I grasped the questing hand, wrapping mine around it, noticing as always the warmth and the strength of his grip. This was not a man who sat in an office all day. He worked with his hands and he worked hard. As the owner and operator of Bumpy Road Limited, he could have taken a less physical role in his company, but he considered himself and everyone he employed to be part of the same team. He stocked shelves, talked to vendors, and called on accounts. He did every job in his company equally, which was why, I was certain, he was so beloved.
I squatted down beside the bench, hand on his knee as I looked up into his gorgeous clear blue eyes.
They were the first things I had ever noticed about him. They were pale, almost opaque cerulean with flecks of India ink in them. I had been out drinking, had turned to head back to the table from the bar—there to buy the last round—and he had suddenly been in front of me, and I was swallowed up in his gaze.
I had forgotten to breathe.
“You have a great laugh,” he’d told me. “I’ve been listening to it all night.”
I had tilted my head, realizing almost instantly that he was blind. “That’s the worst pick-up line I’ve ever heard.” I smiled.
“Are you sure?” he teased me. “The very worst?”
The arch of his eyebrow was wicked, his dimples were sweet, and his plump parted lips, wet now as he licked them, were making my cock hard. The man made my mouth go dry.
I’d noticed the way the light hit his auburn hair, a play of brown and red. I’d appreciated the splatter of freckles across the bridge of his short, upturned nose and had seen the way his eyes narrowed seductively, the long, thick feathery lashes hooding them. I’d heard the soft moan under his breath. I’d wondered, with the part of my brain that was still working, why someone had not put a ring on the man’s finger. That fast, I thought I might want to keep him.
He knew what he was about, because standing there, head tilted, waiting, cute and sexy all at once, he’d had an agenda. I liked that. Men who played games, who weren’t sure what they wanted, were not for me. With the no-nonsense attitude he had going, already he had my undivided attention. I’d let my gaze go everywhere, missing no part of him. He was smaller than me, leaner-muscled, prettier, but solid and strong. I liked the daring tip of his head, his lips that were pale and pink and full, and the effect I had on his breathing. He was holding onto the back of the bar stool beside him, flexing and unflexing his hand, waiting to see what I would say. As if there were ever any doubt. I wanted to eat him.
“I’m Marcus Roth,” I said hoarsely.
He let out a breath and thrust his hand at me. “Joseph Locke.”
I took the offered hand in mine, holding tight. “Pleasure to meet you.”
“And you,” he said, stepping forward, inhaling me.
I had thought that because he couldn’t see that he would be timid about his desire, as well as reticent to trust. But the man knew what he wanted, and when he’d asked me to get something to eat with him, I’d found that I couldn’t say yes fast enough. I liked the laugh lines in the corner of his eyes, found myself charmed by his rakish grin, and felt my pulse jump at the way he laced his fingers into mine. I was a big guy,
six six, two hundred and fifty pounds of hard, heavy muscle; I was normally not on the receiving end of possessiveness. But Joe couldn’t see me, and so he didn’t know that he didn’t need to stake his claim in front of other people. He was all of five ten, trying to yank me after him wherever we went. I had been charmed completely.
Now five, almost six years later, he still had to show anyone who was looking that I belonged to him.
“I knew it was you,” he sighed as his hand slipped around the nape of my neck, pulling me closer to him. “I told my cousin, but she didn’t believe me.”
The man’s sightless eyes were really the most beautiful shade of blue I had ever seen. And I could gaze at them endlessly and enjoy them without him ever flushing with embarrassment and looking away. His eyes warmed me, and I was certain, everyone who ever met him.
“Yeah, well, it’s a damn parlor trick that you can tell a person by their frickin’ walk, so who could blame her?”
She gasped, but Joe and his family, the people who knew me and got me, started laughing instantly.
I arched an eyebrow for poor Ellen, who was the only one not getting the joke.
Deb was snickering as she looked at me with smiling eyes. “I’m so glad you’re here. Joe’s been missing you,” she finished, patting my shoulder.
“I’m so embarrassed.”
I turned my head to look at Ellen, who was now standing on the other side of Joe.
“I didn’t mean to imply that—I just, no one told me that you were—”
“Black?” I asked.
“Oh God,” she groaned, head in her hands.
Poor girl, she was turning a very vibrant shade of red. Joe’s father Elliot started laughing. Deb put her hand over her mouth, and Barbara giggled.
“What I meant to say—”
“Is that you were not expecting me to be black,” I teased her unrelentingly.
She opened her mouth to say something but shut it fast.
“I’m kidding.” I smiled wide. “You know that, right?”
She looked horrified.
“Oh, sweetie,” I soothed her, standing up, lifting out of Joe’s embrace. “I—”
“Marcus’s friends didn’t expect me to be blind,” Joe cut me off, sounding annoyed. “But he’s the catch, not me, so if everyone could just drop it, I would love it.”
