Just Business

by Anna Zabo

  Too much to handle, especially on the heels of dealing with his parents. He’d called Dr. Brohmer on Saturday to fill her in on the flashback—it had been a long time since he’d had one this bad—and while she hadn’t insisted, she’d strongly suggested he make an appointment soon.

  He’d resisted. A small thing, that episode. You’re going to be fragile for a few days, Eli. Off balance. The appointment won’t hurt.

  Except they did, every time. They helped, too, but he hated the stretched, thin feeling after he’d spilled his emotions. Even if they’d been doing this for how many years?

  He eyed his door. Whatever had caused Justin’s return to snarl, in all likelihood, had nothing to do with Eli. But a part of Eli felt shunned. Rejected. In his own office, by the same man who’d been kind to him, someone he’d started to think of as a friend. Banished from his community, all over again.

  Eli picked up the phone, called Dr. Brohmer’s office, and made the appointment.

  He kept the door shut for the rest of the morning. Just before lunch, Sam knocked and opened, but only enough to slip inside. He leaned against it, arms down, fingertips pressed against the wood. “Are you all right?”

  Eli considered how to answer the question—and that act of doing so was answer enough. “Not exactly, no.”

  “Friday?”

  Sam knew him well enough to understand the issues with his parents, and what Sam didn’t know, Michael did. “A bit of that, yes.”

  A nod. “We’ve been worried.”

  “We?”

  “The office.”

  Oh now, come on. Sam shrank ever so slightly when he gave him that look. “The office? Engineering hardly knows I’m here.”

  “They know you’re here, E.” Sam exhaled. “But mostly me. And Justin. We’re . . . concerned.”

  He couldn’t keep the skepticism out of his voice. “Justin?”

  Sam gave him an odd look, one he couldn’t interpret for the life of him. “You know what he did for you, yes?”

  Eli found himself on his feet because his sudden anger needed an outlet. “Sam.”

  Sam pushed himself off the door and planted himself in front of Eli. The disappointment written in Sam’s face, the hurt in his eyes, ripped through Eli and sank claws into his shame and fear.

  He ran a hand through his hair. “Yes. I know, and I thanked him for it.”

  Sam’s stance softened. “He’s a good guy, E.”

  “I know that.” He reached for his gloves and cane. “I need a break from his growling today, that’s all.” So many other things he wanted to say. I like him, Sam. He’s funny and bright and I haven’t felt like this for anyone in years and I want . . . a touch. A kiss. To discover what Justin’s skin tasted like, the timbre of his moans. Eli shook his head. “When I come back from lunch, I’ll leave the door open.” He met Sam’s gaze. “Have I ever let you down?”

  “No.” Sam spoke gently. “Have I?”

  “Never.”

  Sam nodded and reached for the doorknob. Paused.

  “Yes, I made an appointment, Sam Randell Anderson.”

  Sam gave him a grin before slipping into the hall.

  Eli grabbed his coat off the back of his door, swallowing the lump in his throat. Working for Sam was like working for family—and he’d thought he’d never have any kind of family again. Eli shrugged his coat on and opened the door. There Justin was—all blue eyes, black hair, and eyeliner. Eli met that gaze, his lips suddenly dry.

  Sam had told the truth. Worry, concern, and an apology were all wrapped in Justin biting his lip.

  Eli turned away and headed out for lunch. Liking someone and wanting them—too dangerous. Too many pitfalls. He couldn’t control others, not all the time, but he damn well had mastery over himself.

  Chapter Five

  For once, Justin was the first person at the office. Then again, it was six thirty in the morning, early enough that Brian had waved him into Grounds N’at and let him make a cup, just like old times. Didn’t let him pay, either, which was nice.

  Nice. That was a state of being Eli had apparently forgotten. Given Eli’s dark stares and acerbic replies every day since Monday, Justin figured he’d show Eli he could get to work before nine fifteen.

  And Justin could turn down the heat in his apartment a bit earlier. Save some money. Justin tossed his bike helmet and bag down by his desk.

  Eli was running cold again. Freezing was more like it. An hour without Eli scowling at him would be grand. From kindness and confessions in Eli’s car to stony stares in the office. Typical, but he had enough of his own troubles. Another e-mail from Mercy and one from his parents. A call from a collections agency. Last thing he needed was to deal with Eli’s moods.

  Eli brought down the whole office. He’d never closed his door—except on conference calls—until this past week, and everyone noticed. The wall he’d thrown up was horrible. Deafening. More than anything, Justin wanted to know how he could to turn Eli’s tap back to warm—or at least tepid. Everything he’d tried—banter, wordplay, even turning things slightly sexual—had fallen flat. When Justin pushed, Eli closed down.

  Even Sam was on edge and worried—though he’d relaxed a great deal when Eli had left early yesterday.

  Justin picked at the black polish on his nails. The weekend was almost here. He could make it to that. Perhaps Monday would bring an entirely new Eli to the office, or at least the return of the one he’d worked with before this week. He’d liked that guy.

  The current Eli reminded him too much of Francis. Justin had nearly lost himself slotting himself in between Francis’s moods and demands.

  Justin fired up his laptop and fell so deep into figuring out the intricacies of flying Jen and Fazil out to La Crosse, Wisconsin, and housing them for a week within the tiny budget that had been set by Sanhex that he wasn’t aware of anything else until Sam strode through the door at eight thirty.

  “Morning, J. You’re here early.”

  “I wanted to get these travel plans nailed down.” Justin glanced at Sam and caught sight of Eli’s office—which was occupied. When had Eli come in? Didn’t Justin even rate a good morning or hello anymore? His chest tightened. “I know Fazil’s getting itchy for the details.”

  “Fantastic. I know the budget is tricky.”

  Nearly impossible. Then again, Sanhex was in pretty dire straights, so no wonder they held their purse strings so tight. “It’s a challenge, yeah.”

  “If anyone can work it out, it’s you.” Sam continued into his office.

  At least someone thought that. Justin looked into Eli’s office, expecting a delivery from the scowl-of-the-week club. Instead, Eli limped along the cabinets, a small stack of files in his hands, until he vanished from Justin’s view. Pain had etched every line of Eli’s face, been written into every step. Sorrow, too.

  Justin’s insides somersaulted. What did I do? He wanted Eli’s smile, the one he’d glimpsed right before Eli had driven away that night that seemed far too long ago.

  Good God! You are so hung up on this man.

  Time to do something about that, because mooning after Eli was about as safe as dancing naked on porcupines. And while he liked pain from time to time, he hated needles with a passion. He needed to drown Eli out.

  He switched over to his private e-mail. There were no restrictions on Internet usage—Sam had even dragged everyone in to watch a particularly funny video Michael had sent him—but Justin hesitated wasting too much time surfing or e-mailing. He fired one letter off.

  Hey, Kelly. You said you could hook me into the Scene? I really could use a night of fun and frivolity . . . anything coming up in the near future?—Justin.

  It had been a long time since he’d been in the LA Scene. Before Francis, playing had helped his work. Hopefully, here it would focus him, too.

  * * *

  The office remained subdued and quiet, even when engineering arrived. After lunch, Justin managed to find flights and hotels that wouldn’t brea
k the budget and finished the travel arrangement puzzle. Sanhex squeezed the line on this and Justin had even received a terse e-mail from Eli stating that they could add a bit from their budget if the numbers were proving too hard to work with.

  Like fuck he’d ask for that. He wasn’t about to let Eli think he couldn’t perform a task handed to him.

  Now he had. Justin sent the arrangements to Sam and Eli for approval. Sam’s reply came back immediately.

  Fantastic job! Yes. Approved.

  Justin smiled at his reflection in the screen. Victory! He leaned back in his chair.

  Eli’s response came a few minutes later, dousing ice water over Justin’s joy. He nearly didn’t open the e-mail

  Impressive, Mr. White. Approved.

  Short and to the point. Justin couldn’t help turning his head and peering across the hall. Of course Eli watched him, but those lips that had been so recently turned down quirked up into a small smile. Justin nodded and turned back to his screen, breathless. A smile—and for him. Justin swallowed. His throat felt raw, but every muscle eased, far more than when Sam had praised his work.

  Justin closed the browser and rose. He reached for the ceiling, arching his back, and several vertebrae popped. Thank God. Time for a soda and maybe Ping-Pong. When he turned, he expected Eli to be watching him, but no.

  Eli stood at his cabinets with another handful of files, his posture entirely wrong. One hand white-knuckled the top of the cabinet while Eli lowered himself down to his knees—but he winced and the papers spilled onto the floor. Eli pulled himself up and pounded a fist against the top of the cabinet. “Fuck!”

  Justin stared at the spilled files and crept closer to Eli’s door. A tumult of emotions played across Eli’s face and Justin’s chest constricted. Eli exhaled a breath that sounded suspiciously like a sob. “Fuck,” he repeated, though this time the word was filled with pain. The helpless look on Eli’s face—

  Justin must have made a sound, because forlorn morphed into furious. “What the hell do you want?”

  Face hot, Justin gripped the doorway and searched for something, anything to say. He knew that Let me help you would be snarled away, but there had to be something else. Other words.

  Eli turned. “Please leave, Justin.” Hard edges over every syllable.

  “Look,” Justin said, sounding far stronger than he felt, “you and Sam hired an assistant for a reason. Get your money’s worth out of me.”

  Eli scraped his nails across the top of the cabinet, the sound eating into Justin’s brain. His heart slammed against his ribs. Shit. Shit.

  After a long, painful moment of silence, Eli pushed off the cabinets. “Then get your ass in here and assist me.” Eli hobbled back to his chair and sat. “You can start by picking those up.” The tension melted from Eli’s body.

  Good. He’d managed to find the right words around Eli’s pride. He’d done that with Mercy from time to time, too. But Mercy was his sister and Eli was . . . a coworker. A friend? Who the fuck knew?

  Justin knelt and carefully picked up the files. While they’d strewn their contents onto the rug, they’d done so in an organized enough way that he could scoop up each one and hand it back to Eli.

  “Well done.” Soft voice, full of the warmth that had been lacking all week.

  Justin sat back on his feet. “What now?”

  “If you wouldn’t mind a little more time down there, I have these”—he held up the files in his hands—“and those left.” Eli waved to a much larger stack. “All of them go into the bottom cabinets. And I can’t—” His voice cracked.

  Justin examined the fluff on the carpet, rather than the deep anger on Eli face. Mercy got like this when her injury held her back in unpredictable ways. He let Eli find his balance.

  Eli sighed. “My leg hurts too fucking much to kneel today.” He handed a file to Justin. “Far cabinet, two-thirds of the way in. You’ll see the company name.”

  Justin shimmied over, opened the cabinet, and filed the folder.

  Eli held out the next one. “Closest to me.”

  Stand or crawl? Well, if he had to get up and down, his knees would give out, too. He crawled on all fours to Eli and took the file.

  “Halfway down.” Eli’s voice fell like a caress.

  Justin opened the drawer and found the location, his blood thrumming in his ears. He pushed it closed, and looked up. Fuck if it wasn’t the burning-hot Eli staring back, a smile touching his lips. Those gray eyes were as impenetrable as storm clouds, though.

  “Does you leg get like this often?”

  “No.” Same soft voice. “Only when I do something stupid, like walk to Strip District and back.”

  Even Justin would feel that in the morning. Had to be four miles from Squirrel Hill, one way.

  His expression must have been readable because Eli laughed and shrugged. “I had a lot on my mind.” He handed Justin three folders. “All of these go in the far cabinet, second drawer up.”

  With Eli’s laughter spinning down his body to his balls, Justin shuffled on his knees as ordered. When he crawled back, it was Eli’s mouthwatering expression that burned Justin’s veins.

  Being on his knees for Eli felt good. Inappropriately good. There really wasn’t a way to hide just how turned on he was.

  “You’re doing very well, Justin.” Eli handed him another stack. “I’m quite pleased.”

  Justin’s whole body shook and he stifled a moan. That was not the kind of praise a coworker gave. Justin gripped the folders.

  “Middle cabinet.” Eli shifted in his seat—and the bulge in Eli’s pants wasn’t the kind a coworker should have for another, either.

  “Justin.” A little force in Eli’s voice.

  Every nerve in Justin’s body lit up. “Sorry.” He moved to the cabinet and filed the folders, slowly so he could catch his breath. Man, Kelly better come through with a party, because this is ridiculous.

  Still, he savored the burn in his body and the tightness in his balls when crawled back to Eli. Hadn’t felt that in ages. If nothing else, he’d have a spectacular orgasm when he got home.

  He sat back on his heels and waited. No way Eli could miss the outline of his cock pressing against his jeans.

  Sam’s voice sounded in the hall. “Justin, where— Oh.” Sam tilted his head.

  God, Justin’s face felt like he’d been shoved into an oven. Sam couldn’t miss the erection, either. Oh hell.

  “E, why is my assistant kneeling at your feet?”

  A chuckle. “He’s helping me file.”

  Sam shook his head.

  “I promise I’ll put him back where I found him. In one piece, even.” Oh, the grin that wrapped Eli’s voice.

  Sam laughed. “Well, good.” And then Sam smiled at him. “J, when Eli is finished with you, stop by. I want to go over the Lumendaris expense report.”

  “Sure, Sam.” His voice sounded normal, not the moaning mess it wanted to be.

  Sam slipped back across the hall.

  A cough redirected Justin’s attention to Eli.

  “Ready to continue, Mr. White?” One raised eyebrow.

  Like fire down his back. Thank God Eli wasn’t wearing his gloves, or Justin would have been a groaning puddle. “Sure, Eli.”

  Another stack of folders. Another order. Yet another shower of sparks from his head to his balls.

  Well, he had wanted a warmer Eli. He’d gotten his wish.

  * * *

  Eli held out another stack of files. “Far cabinet, bottom drawer. Right side.”

  Justin took the folders, his fingers brushing Eli’s hand. The touch seared a path down Eli’s nerves. “Yes, Eli.”

  His name on Justin’s lips spun Eli’s head around like a shot of tequila. He stilled the impulse to grab Justin by the shoulders and kiss him.

  Justin’s jagged hair flopping over his eyes, his mouth parted with exertion made up for a hellish week of snark, innuendo, and punk posturing. Eli wasn’t blameless for the wall that had gone u
p between them, but Justin got under his skin. In good and bad and wicked ways.

  The secrets he wanted to pour out into Justin’s ear. The trust he wanted to give. The things he wanted to do to that fine, slim body. All of it dangerous and heady. At least his leg hurt less now. His cock, on the other hand . . .

  He wasn’t alone in being turned on, however. The bulge in Justin’s jeans gave away what kneeling at Eli’s feet cost him.

  Was Justin a submissive? Certainly acted like one, down to the little shudder when Eli ordered him across the floor. But a reaction didn’t mean Justin was into the Scene—just that he was turned on. In any case, whatever was between them should go no further than this. Opening himself up to another was like handing them Pandora’s box. Eli didn’t wish that on anyone.

  Justin filed the folders and came crawling back. “Any more?”

  “Just two stacks.” Pity. He could watch Justin on all fours all day. Given the desire carved into Justin’s trembling body and the need written in those blue eyes, Justin would have obliged.

  There was more in Justin’s expression—a relaxation not born of any submissive kink, but from relief overcoming worry. That pulled at Eli’s heart. Beyond the delightful vision of Justin on his knees was the truth of why he knelt there: Justin cared, and without the pity Eli loathed and rejected.

  “Third cabinet down. Bottom drawer. Middle. Make sure you have the right place. Lots of Smiths.”

  Justin’s smile stole the air from Eli’s lungs. Justin had managed to twine his way around Eli’s rejection of help and give assistance anyway. Eli knew why—Justin’s sister. He didn’t talk much about her and Eli didn’t pry, but he knew enough. Went to war with legs, came back without. Guilt stiffened Eli’s muscles.

  Where did he get off complaining when he still could walk? He wasn’t a hero. He’d been a kid in the wrong car on the wrong night—and survived when no one else had, including his first boyfriend.

  And when that relationship had been revealed, his parents had screwed over Noah’s parents, all under the guise of doing the right thing. Bitterness rose into his mouth.

  “Eli?”