by Kim Fielding
Jordan’s wide smile appeared. “Thanks. I’m cool. It’s been a long time since I touched the stuff.”
Landry nodded briskly. “All right. Perhaps you could offer those gentlemen some tea?”
As Jordan trotted to the pool, Elaine fixed Landry with a look. “You sound like an eighty-year-old member of the House of Lords when you say that.”
“Say what?”
“Offer those gentlemen some tea,” she echoed in a horrible British accent. “Cheerio and pip-pip.”
“I don’t sound like that.”
“Okay, maybe not exactly. But you’re totally channeling Lord Thistlebottom.” She took a healthy sip of her sangria.
Landry had no good response, in part because he knew she was right—he did sound stuffy. But speaking properly was hardly a cardinal sin, was it?
Elaine stepped closer and dropped her voice. “He’s going to work out okay for you.” She waved her glass toward Jordan, crouched in conversation with the men in the pool. “It really has been a long time since he drank.”
“I’m quite willing to take his word on that.”
“I’m glad. He’s a good kid, he really is. It just took him a while to grow up.”
It was funny she put it like that, because Landry had just been thinking how youthful Jordan looked as he laughed beside the water. Jordan was only two years younger than him, yet Landry felt as if they belonged to different generations. Maybe it was the fault of Lord Thistlebottom’s ghost.
Jordan returned, followed by a retinue of wet, muscular, nearly naked men, and Landry’s thoughts fled. Jordan poured glasses of iced tea, and the furniture movers converged around Landry in a glistening, bulging crowd. “Thanks so much for the break, Mr. Bishop,” said a man with sepia skin and large gold nipple rings. “This really hits the spot.”
“It must be miserable moving furniture in such weather. I’m glad I could help.”
Another man—with a ginger beard and pale, freckled skin that threatened to erupt into sunburn at any moment—sidled a bit closer. “Usually we’re lucky if someone offers us water.”
The proximity of so much damp masculinity was almost too much for Landry, who was in the midst of a very long sexual dry spell. His face felt flushed. He wished he’d taken up Jordan’s offer of something alcoholic. “Well, I appreciate your hard work,” he said and then winced at the unintended double entendre.
Nipple-rings didn’t wince. He waggled his eyebrows. “I like to work hard. And play hard.”
Landry made a slightly strangled noise, at which point Elaine tapped his shoulder. “It’s time for that phone call with Ms. Winfrey.”
He didn’t have any calls scheduled—with Oprah or otherwise—but he gave a quick nod. “Of course. Gentlemen.” He nodded at the movers before walking to the house with as much dignity as he could manage.
Half an hour later, while Landry was puttering around with an experimental tabbouleh recipe, Jordan and Elaine joined him in the kitchen. “Try this,” he ordered, handing them each a spoonful.
Jordan made approving noises, but Elaine frowned. “That’s not a grain.”
“It’s cauliflower.”
“For the love of God, why?”
“For people who want to eat grain-free.”
“If you don’t want to eat grains, you shouldn’t be eating tabbouleh.” She took Jordan’s spoon along with her own and washed them in the sink.
“I like it,” Jordan announced. “It’s kind of crunchyish.” He seemed sincere.
“Thank you,” Landry said.
“Hey, um, you didn’t really have an important phone call, did you?”
“No. That was Elaine rescuing me.”
“I kinda figured. Except… I hope this doesn’t sound rude, but why did you need rescuing? Those guys were hot. That whole thing was like the opening of a pretty good porno, you know? If they’d been all over me like that, I sure as hell wouldn’t have wanted rescuing.”
Landry pushed aside the interesting information that Jordan was attracted to men. His PA’s sexual orientation was irrelevant. He also pushed aside a stupid and inexplicable jab of jealousy. If Jordan wanted to fantasize about group sex with hunky furniture deliverymen, that was none of Landry’s business. So he focused on the question itself.
“Why do you think those extremely attractive men were so interested in me?”
“Um, because they were throwing themselves all over you.”
“Yes, I suppose they were. But why? Why me?”
“’Cause you’re damned hot too.”
Even as Landry’s face heated at the unexpected compliment, Jordan’s cheeks turned a charming shade of pink. Interesting. Their gazes locked so tightly that Landry wondered if either of them would ever look away. Or if he wanted them to.
Then Elaine mumbled, “Oh, for fuck’s sake,” and whacked Jordan on the shoulder. “What your new boss means, kid, is that although, yes, he is obnoxiously good-looking, pretty is a dime a dozen around here. They were panting over him because he’s the fabulous, famous Landry Bishop, and they’re all wannabe actors looking to break into showbiz.”
Landry nodded his agreement, although he could have argued about the good-looking part. He was average. Oh, he knew how to use clothing, hairstyle, and posture to his advantage, but that was just a facade, like wrapping an ordinary gift in expensive glittery paper.
“How do you know they want to be actors?” Confusion wrinkled Jordan’s brow.
Elaine and Landry laughed in unison. “We’re in LA, honey,” she said. “Everyone wants that.”
“I don’t.”
The sweet and plaintive quality of Jordan’s reply almost thawed Landry’s cynical heart. He wanted to pat Jordan on the back and tell him he was fine just as he was, that it was hardly a character flaw if someone lacked ambition regarding the industry. In fact, the lack of that particular ambition in this town made someone unique. Special.
“Did you get all of your belongings put away already?” Landry asked, moving away from them and toward the fridge. The tabbouleh would suffice. Now he needed to work on the menu for a preholiday tea party he intended to showcase on the Suzee Show. He’d need to choose items that were festive but light and that didn’t echo traditional holiday meals. And he needed to think about anything other than his new PA.
“Yep,” answered Jordan as Landry assessed the contents of the refrigerator. “And you ordered really nice furniture. I like it.”
Knowing Jordan wouldn’t see, Landry allowed himself a pleased smile. “It’s more contemporary than my usual style, but better suited to the pool house, I think.” And better suited to Jordan as well.
“It’s great. Do you think maybe sometime you could teach me how to pick out decent stuff? Um, if you’re not too busy. You’re probably too busy.”
Landry turned his head to look at Jordan. “I’m sure we can find some time to at least go over the basics.”
“Great! Thanks! And is there anything you want me to do now?”
“Take the afternoon off. Settle in, get comfortable. Use the pool if you want.”
“He’ll start exploiting your labor tomorrow,” Elaine said.
Ignoring her, Landry closed the refrigerator doors and faced Jordan. “We’ll meet tomorrow at eight after my morning exercise and go over the week’s schedule and my expectations for you.”
Jordan grinned. “I’m looking forward to being exploited.”
Landry leaned against a counter and watched Jordan lope across the patio to the pool house. He didn’t realize he’d sighed until Elaine came up beside him. “Wow,” she said.
“What?”
“You two.”
“What about us?”
“I’m sorta regretting I’ll be in Hawaii. Gonna miss the fireworks.”
“What fireworks?”
She simply smiled and shook her head.
ALTHOUGH Landry haunted his study that evening, he got very little accomplished. He attempted to work on the outline of one of his
new books. When that got him nowhere, he tried clicking through Pinterest in hopes of inspiration for clever Christmas decorations children could make with some adult help. He also envisioned a Suzee Show segment on keeping young Thanksgiving guests occupied with holiday craft projects, but mason jar snowmen, greeting card display boards, and candy cane candle holders didn’t spark his interest. He found his gaze repeatedly straying to the door.
Having another person in his home was unsettling in a way he couldn’t define. Elaine spent a lot of time at his place, frequently at odd hours, but this wasn’t the same. Knowing that Jordan was so close at hand, maybe sitting on the furniture Landry had chosen just for him, did obnoxiously fluttery things to Landry’s thoughts. And while he might camp things up onstage at times, Landry wasn’t a fluttery man. He prided himself on practicality, in fact, but his current feelings toward Jordan weren’t at all practical.
He shouldn’t be letting his mind wander to thoughts of Jordan. To images of him settling into the pool house, tucking his clothing into the closet and dresser, arranging the pillows just right on the bed. To Jordan’s broad-fingered hands and speculations about how they’d feel skating across Landry’s heated skin. To flashes of Jordan kneeling naked on a throw rug, his lips quirked in a delighted smile, his fingers fumbling at Landry’s trouser button. Because those last thoughts, they weren’t just impractical, they were damning. And Landry had no intention of ending up embroiled in a lawsuit and losing his new PA.
Finally, out of near desperation, Landry opened his email account and, having taken care of the more recent communications, found Missy’s name at the top of the list. Although it pained him to do so, he clicked the message open.
Hi Wormy,
“Ugh.” The hated childhood nickname was too much for him, and he closed the window. He’d specifically asked her not to call him that, more than once, and she always ignored him. He was almost tempted to use her nickname, dating from when she’d become so engrossed in first-grade story time that she wet her pants. “Pissy Missy,” he grumbled to himself. That made him feel better, but not enough to face whatever she had to say.
Maybe some nice cucumber water would clear his head.
He marched purposefully into the kitchen, where he pulled a glass out of the cupboard. But as he walked toward the fridge, he glanced outside and froze in place.
Jordan sat on the edge of the pool with his legs dangling in the water. He wore a black T-shirt and khaki shorts—nothing especially revealing or sexy. But he’d tipped his head back, and the pool lights played over his upraised face, giving him an otherworldly aspect. It was as if a gifted sculptor had created the perfect decoration for Landry’s patio. Except, of course, Jordan was no mere artwork; he was a living, breathing human being.
Landry fetched a second glass and filled them both from the pitcher in the fridge. Then he crossed the room, opened a door, and padded barefoot across the patio.
“Do you need something?” Jordan shifted as if ready to stand.
Landry waved at him to stay put. “No. Here. Have a drink.” He held out the glass.
“Nonalcoholic?”
“Cucumber water.”
For some reason that made Jordan laugh. But he took the glass and had a sip, and for a moment they both watched the pool water ripple, Landry standing and Jordan sitting. Jordan’s body language was relaxed and easy, with no hints of the tiredness he’d shown during his interview. He looked like a man who’d found contentment. Landry envied him.
“I don’t know a single person in Seattle who has their own pool,” Jordan finally said.
“I wouldn’t imagine they’d be useful in that climate.”
“Not really, no. But they’re pretty cool here. You really don’t mind if I use yours when I’m off duty?”
“Of course not.”
“Thanks.”
“What made you decide to leave Seattle?” The question had been niggling at Landry for some time, but he hadn’t felt comfortable enough to ask it. Posing the question was easier here in the dark, with a cricket chirping softly from the bushes.
“I love Seattle—it’s a fantastic city. But I think I was sort of going in circles there. I guess sometimes if you want to get somewhere with your life, you need to physically move away.”
Landry nodded in agreement.
A jet flashed overhead, perhaps on its way out of John Wayne Airport, and the warm breeze played with Jordan’s fair hair. Landry decided that next time he’d make strawberry or melon water instead. Something a tad sweeter.
“I really appreciate you giving me a chance,” said Jordan. “I’m going to try hard to make you glad you did.”
“I can be demanding.”
“Yeah, that’s what Elaine says. But I don’t mind a challenge. And anyway, she tells me you’re a good guy, so I can handle it.”
Inordinately pleased by the secondhand compliment, Landry made a humming noise and drank more water. A part of him—buried deep—had always wondered if Elaine really liked him or whether she simply tolerated him for the paycheck.
“Um, the drinking thing,” Jordan began.
“I told you. It’s fine.”
“Yeah, I know. And I appreciate that too.”
“This is Hollywood. A lot of people have problems with drugs or alcohol.”
“I bet they do, but you’re not hiring them. Or letting them stay at your house. So… thanks.” He looked and sounded so earnest that Landry wanted to warn him that naked emotion got you nowhere. You must build high walls. You must create a facade.
While Landry took another sip of water, Jordan swung his legs slowly, creating little eddies and splashes. The movement was hypnotizing—so much so that Landry found himself setting his glass on the patio, rolling up the cuffs of his trousers, and sitting beside Jordan on the edge of the pool. The water felt good. When was the last time he’d used the pool for anything but hard exercise? Maybe in the spring he’d do a piece on creative pool parties. Something beyond the boring beer and barbecue. He gazed up at the sky as if he might find inspiration there.
“I miss the stars,” he heard himself say.
“I bet you meet a lot of celebrities.”
Landry chuckled. “Not that kind of stars. Those.” He pointed up.
“What do you mean? There are a bunch of stars up there.”
“You only think that because you’re used to Seattle. When I was a boy, I could lie back in a field and see the entire Milky Way swirling above me.” He’d even learned many of the constellations, although he’d long since forgotten most of them. There hadn’t been much point in remembering.
“Where was that field?” Jordan asked softly, as if the answer mattered to him.
“Just outside of Peril, Nebraska.”
“Sorry. I’ve never heard of it.”
“There’s no reason you should have. It’s a small town in the middle of nowhere. But the air was clear and there was almost no light pollution, so it was a good place for stargazing.” Huh. That might have been the nicest thing he’d ever said about his hometown.
“So you know what I mean about needing to move away in order to find yourself. Do you go back and visit?”
“No,” Landry replied, laughing at the notion. “Why would I? The stars aren’t a big enough draw.”
“Family?”
Landry shrugged. He’d offered to fly some of them to California for a visit, but they’d claimed to be busy with work and kids. He’d always suspected it was a form of denial, that on some level they knew that if they spent time in LA, Peril would permanently pale in comparison. And that was fine. They seemed content enough with their sweltering summers and frigid winters, their lack of dining and entertainment options, their monotonous scenery. And their endless numbers of stars.
He stood and retrieved his glass. “I have work to do, and tomorrow’s a busy day.”
“Do you need anything from me tonight?”
Nothing I dare ask of you. “No.”
“Do yo
u mind if I hang out in the pool for a while?”
“No.”
“I was thinking about actually swimming.”
“Go ahead.”
Jordan looked up at him with a grin. “I don’t own a bathing suit. Is underwear okay? It worked for those furniture guys today.”
Landry’s cheeks heated—not at the memory of the movers in wet underwear but at the mental image of Jordan wearing almost nothing. He cleared his throat. “There’s no rule against it.”
“Cool. I’ll get some trunks soon. You don’t want to join me? Water feels great.”
“I have work to do,” Landry repeated. As he marched back into the house, he sensed Jordan watching him.
Chapter Five
ELAINE stood in the driveway and stared at the piece of paper in her hands. “You’re not serious.”
“I wouldn’t tease you like that.”
“But that’s… that’s a fucking lot of zeroes, Landry.”
“You’ve earned them.”
He’d given a lot of thought to how to end his professional relationship with Elaine. Not with a farewell party; she’d had one of those with her friends. And although she’d invited him, he declined. It would have been awkward, and he didn’t want that to ruin her event. She didn’t need any tangible gifts, not when she was having to ship her belongings to Hawaii. Cash, however, was portable and always useful, and he could certainly spare some of that.
“You’ve always paid me plenty well,” she said. Tears coursed down her face, but she ignored them.
“This isn’t a salary. It’s a token of my appreciation and an effort to help you settle happily into your new life.”
“Fifty grand is gonna bring a whole lot of happy, all right.” She tucked the check back into the envelope and tossed it onto the driver’s seat of the Benz. Then she threw herself at Landry and, before he could defend himself, flung her arms around him in a powerful embrace.
His own eyes were a bit leaky too.
She eventually pulled away, but only far enough to whisper into his ear. “You’re not my boss anymore, so I’m gonna tell it to you straight.”
