by Tanya Chris
“Hi.” He should’ve thought to tell Hailey to dress. The place he had in mind for dinner….
It would be fine. Mac was only wearing jeans himself, but there was a world of difference between his jeans and Hailey’s, and he’d topped his with a hand-knit wool sweater, whereas Hailey was still in the t-shirt he’d had on earlier, the one with the rip right where his nipple must be. He imagined Hailey’s nipple hard and pierced and ready to pop through at any moment. He wanted to see it happen.
“You won’t be cold in a t-shirt?” he asked as he put the car in gear.
Hailey wiggled his fingers, half-covered by fingerless gloves, as though gloves could keep a nipple from projecting through a rip in your shirt. He’d also wrapped a scarf around his neck several times. The ends dripped with tassels not quite long enough to hide the rip.
Mac scrambled to think of a place more appropriate to take Hailey than Carmichael’s, then decided fuck it. It wasn’t like Carmichael’s would decline to serve a MacPherson. If Mac brought in Edgar the drunken shuffler, the maître d’ would only ask whether he wanted to dine indoors or out.
“We just had a new Vietnamese place open,” Hailey said as Mac pulled into traffic. “They do a great bowl of pho and we could totally split an order of spring rolls unless you’re allergic to peanuts, because the peanut sauce is the best part. Otherwise they’re on the bland side.”
“I’m not allergic to peanuts.” But he had no intention of eating anywhere local.
“You seem to know where you’re going,” Hailey observed. “So I’ll just let you go there.” He propped his arm on the ledge of the window, staring out as though this were all new to him rather than the very neighborhood he lived in.
“Do you have any food allergies?” Mac asked belatedly.
“Oh, no. I’m easy.” Hailey faced him, his grin illuminated by the street light they were under. The ring at his eyebrow glinted, giving him a wicked pirate effect. He’d let his hair down since Mac had last seen him. It hung in tawny waves around his face, a luxurious tumble Mac wanted to bury his hands in. He appreciated long hair in women but had never cared for it in a man before. Hailey’s had a silky shine, glittering the way everything about him did. It was his personality, Mac decided as he resolutely turned his attention back to the road. Hailey shimmered.
At the restaurant, the maître d’ acknowledged Mac by name, throwing a look at Hailey that raised Mac’s hackles. He put a hand on Hailey’s lower back, and the maître d’s expression smoothed quickly into one of professional disinterest. “Right this way.”
“What happened there?” Hailey asked when they were seated. “You went all growly.”
“It was nothing.” He refused to make Hailey self-conscious by pointing out how out of place he was in the conservatively demure décor, but Hailey cocked his head like Mac had given something away.
“You don’t need to protect me. I make my choices.” Hailey reached across the table to squeeze his hand. Mac wrapped his fingers around Hailey’s wrist before he could pull it back. It was so slim—covered in a light coat of dark hair on the back side, smooth and white on the inside, a single dark smudge marring the skin of his forearm. A bruise?
“Oops.” Hailey took his arm back. “Missed a spot.” He licked his thumb and swiped it over the smudge. “I made a mess out of myself with charcoals earlier. That’s what I was up to when you came in.”
“Working with charcoals?”
“Drawing, but I always end up covered in the stuff. That’s why I had my shirt off.”
“You told me you were….”
“Because that’s what you wanted to believe. And also to pay you back for correcting my Latin. Is this a business meeting or a date?”
Hailey’s question was probably prompted by the fact that Mac had reclaimed his wrist. He’d never seen a man as tall as Hailey with a wrist so narrow, narrow enough for him to wrap his fingers around. Hailey wore a bracelet woven from a rough, undyed fiber. Hemp, probably. A gift from a lover?
He’d told his sister this was a date, but only so she would let him off the hook. If he’d admitted he was skipping their weekly dinner date for business, she’d have reminded him they had a no-business rule and he’d either have given in or lived with her jabs for the next six months. But a date, she approved of.
“About time,” she’d said. “You haven’t mentioned anyone since Lauren. What’s she like?”
“He.” He could’ve made up a fictitious woman, but instead he told her about Hailey, much as if it really were a date and he were as excited for it as a teenager headed to prom.
“I can’t remember the last time you talked about a man. I thought maybe you’d given up on being bi.”
“What I do and what I tell you are vastly different subjects.” His sister didn’t need the details, but he dated men more than women. The quick hookups he’d indulged in since Lauren were easier to arrange—certainly easier to end—with men.
His sister laughed. “Fair enough. But this one’s worth standing me up for?”
“It’s just one night, Julia-Louise.”
Now he wasn’t sure which parts of what he’d told her were lies and which parts were the truth. His grasp on Hailey’s wrist screamed date, but the briefcase he’d placed on the bench seat next to him reminded him they had business to transact. It held a copy of the lease termination agreement they’d been trying to get Hailey to sign as well as a spreadsheet he’d thrown together outlining the financial benefits of C&G’s offer. But he couldn’t bring himself to open it.
“Let’s eat first,” he said rather than answer Hailey’s question.
“So a business meeting, then?”
The waiter came over to take their drink order, prompting Mac to release the inappropriate hold he had on Hailey’s wrist. He ordered himself a martini, but Hailey only asked for water.
“How old are you?” Mac asked when the waiter had trotted off again.
“Old enough to drink—and old enough for whatever you’re planning to do to me, I promise—but if this is a business meeting, I’d rather keep my wits about me.” Hailey opened his menu and almost immediately gave a low whistle. “Nice place, huh?”
“Don’t worry about it. Get anything you like.”
“Oh, I wasn’t worried about it. You knew what you were getting into bringing me here, but I had no idea I was in for such a treat.” Hailey ordered an eggplant dish and a bowl of the soup of the day, which was a tomato spinach.
“You should’ve told me you’re a vegetarian.” Mac said when the soup had been served along with Mac’s salad of artisanal greens. “You said you could eat anything.”
“I said I was easy and that I wasn’t allergic to anything. Both true. And I do eat meat, mostly because I can’t afford to be as vegetarian as I’d like. This is a luxury.”
“Some people might see it as a chance to indulge in a good steak.” That was what Mac had ordered.
“This is fine. Delicious, in fact.” Hailey held out his spoon, and Mac leaned forward to close his lips around it. The garlic was heady, the soup steaming hot, and Hailey’s eyes were doing that sparkling thing again. Mac closed his own eyes, overwhelmed by how badly he wanted to be swallowing Hailey’s moans rather than a spoonful of soup.
“You know what I like about you?” Hailey asked.
Mac straightened up with a shake of his head. He knew what people usually liked about him. He was a handsome man with strong features and thick hair. He came from money, had turned that into more money of his own, had the manners and confidence to comport himself anywhere. He made decisions quickly but logically, took action when others froze, and played a good game of hockey. But he expected to hear something different from Hailey—maybe that he had a bright aura or had been some form of cuddly animal in a previous life.
“Your shoulders. I’m a sucker for a guy with good posture. You had that suit on in the store, but I could still tell. Is that not okay to say?”
“I was expecting somethin
g more… well, less superficial.” He’d wanted Hailey to see something in him, something he maybe hadn’t even known was there himself, a goodness of some kind.
“Like that you have a beautiful soul? We all do, don’t we? Your beautiful soul happens to be topped by an impressive pair of shoulders. But all right, I’ll tell you what I meant to say before I got distracted by them. I like how transparent you are.”
“I’m not transparent.” He was a consummate businessman, a master of impassivity.
“But you are. Right now you’re vaguely insulted because you think being transparent is a weakness. A moment ago you were disappointed to discover that I’m a human male, not an ethereal saint, and right before that you were thinking about how much you want to fuck me.”
Since that was a pretty good summary of the last three thoughts he’d had, arguing seemed pointless. “Maybe you’re just good at reading me.”
“I don’t see how anyone could miss what you’re thinking. It’s all in your eyes. They’re very expressive. I especially like that how-much-you-want-to-fuck-me look. You never did say whether this was a date.”
Okay, fuck. They needed to get this contract out of the way so it could be a fucking date and Mac could stop acting like a besotted idiot. So he could switch fully into seduction mode rather than make hopeful, hungry eyes at a man he might need to play hardball with, and not in a good way. The sooner they established that they were on the same team—team Hailey-moves-out-so-renovations-can-begin—the sooner Mac could get to what he was starting to want more than Hailey’s signature on a termination agreement.
Before he could swing the conversation that way, the waiter arrived with their entrees. Hailey dug into his with the same enthusiasm with which he’d slurped down his soup. It was probably more enthusiasm than the patrons of Carmichael’s were accustomed to seeing in their fellow diners, but fuck them. Mac enjoyed the fervor with which Hailey ate, the way his tongue flicked at the corners of his mouth or gave a quick swipe to the tips of his fingers.
“I’m totally getting this to go,” Hailey said before he was halfway through, “because I wanna leave room for cake. Business meetings include cake, right?”
“If you want them to.” He’d probably buy Hailey the whole restaurant if Hailey asked for it. There was no way they couldn’t come to an agreement on the lease. Mac would simply keep sweetening the deal until Hailey agreed to it. What difference would another ten or twenty grand make? He’d pay it out of his own share of the profits if anyone squawked.
Somehow he’d ended up with his fingers around Hailey’s wrist again, leaving Hailey only one hand to eat with. His own dinner sat neglected in front of him, a different sort of hunger compelling him. Reluctantly, he released Hailey to grab his briefcase.
“Ah, so it is a business meeting. Shame.” Hailey wiped his fingers on his napkin and slid his plate over to the edge of the table. “All right, hit me.”
“I put together some figures.” Mac placed the spreadsheet he’d spent an hour mocking up in front of Hailey. “With the buyout payment C&G is offering—”
“Remember how I said some people are bad at math? I didn’t mean me. A onetime payment might cover relocation costs, but it won’t cover the ongoing increased rent for a new space. Property in a rentable condition is scarce, and rents are on the rise.”
“Because of the revitalization work going on. That’s a good thing, Hailey. It shows market optimism for the future of the neighborhood.”
“Which, if I were a real estate developer or a landlord, would work in my favor. As a tenant on a limited budget, it’ll only drive me out of the area. I’ve looked at my options, and the best one I have is to stay where I am.” Hailey pushed the paper back across the table and folded his hands in front of him like it was settled.
“We’re prepared to increase the buyout by as much as—”
“No.”
“No?” No wasn’t a negotiating position. “There must be a price at which—”
“Because everyone has a price, right? What if I don’t?”
“For heaven’s sake, Hailey. I’m not trying to buy your body.”
“My body, I might sell you. Or at least I’m happy to rent it to you for the night at the very low cost of nothing.” Hailey grinned. “But the store, you’ll get in nine months when my lease runs out. I know resistance is futile, but I’m going to resist while I can. It’s not personal.” He patted Mac’s hand consolingly.
“Putting aside your personal situation for a moment here,” Mac tried, “this project is going to bring much-needed money to the area—jobs, opportunities, new businesses. 502 Main Street is in desperate need of rehab. It’s not just run-down. It’s dangerous. How long did the previous owner leave it like that?”
“Much too long,” Hailey agreed.
“Exactly. We’re not throwing you out just to throw you out. We’ve got lead abatement to do, possible asbestos involvement. We can’t work while the building’s occupied. You move out, we rehab the building, and you can move back in when we’re done.”
“Can I? Be honest with me, Greg.”
Greg. For a moment Mac didn’t know who that was, but then he remembered foolishly offering the name to Hailey as an option. His family called him Gregory, his mother’s refusal to use nicknames extending even to Julia-Louise, and everyone else called him Mac. The only one who’d ever called him Greg was his first boyfriend, back before he’d even understood he wanted a boyfriend. Hailey’s use of the name hit that spot inside him where he’d once been soft and romantic, before everyone’s expectations built him into something hard and purposeful. He wanted to catch the sound of Hailey’s voice and hold it close.
“Greg?”
“Sorry. What were you asking?”
“I was asking if I’ll really be able to move back in when renovations are finished. Or do you already have new tenants in mind who’ll pay a lot more than I’m paying?”
“Rents will obviously increase. We have an investment to make back.”
“And the tenants will be…?”
“There are plans,” he admitted reluctantly. “We probably won’t subdivide into as many storefronts as there are currently. We’re looking at a grocery store and a drugstore—the sort of thing people really need.”
“As opposed to a bookstore.” Hailey sighed. “I understand where you’re coming from. I just happen to disagree with you. Urban revitalization sounds good in theory, but the practice never benefits the original residents. We didn’t need a new grocery store. There used to be a bodega next to me.”
“The new store will be three times as big as that bodega.”
“The new store will be owned by a corporation and will stock nonethnic food and cosmetics for white people. The next closest store—one that carries plantains and products for natural hair—will be a long bus ride away, but that won’t matter because eventually the people who live in Ball’s End now will be gone too, forced out by skyrocketing rents and aggressive policing designed to push people like them out.”
“You make it sound like we’re targeting people when we’re just trying to improve the neighborhood. This project is a public good. The city council wouldn’t have approved it otherwise.”
That made Hailey smile for some reason. “It’s not that I don’t want to see the building renovated, Greg. I just don’t want everything that comes after that. Ball’s End is by no means a perfect place to live, but it’s home for a lot of people. I don’t imagine my little act of rebellion is going to change anything ultimately, but I’m not going to cash out and walk away from what I think is right. Whether you believe it or not, my store does provide a service, and I’m going to keep providing it as long as I can.”
“And then what? You’ll be out in nine months, whether you like it or not, and without any incentives to help you get set up somewhere else. You’re young, you’re idealistic. I get it. It’s sweet.” It made him want to fuck Hailey senseless. Fuck him and then cuddle him and then give him everyt
hing he ever wanted. “But sweet won’t get you far in this world. Sign the termination agreement, and I’ll help you find a new place. I can work with you on a marketing—”
Hailey stopped him with a slow but definitive shake of his head. “I’m not going to sign, Greg. Now, if business is over, how about that date?”
“This isn’t a date.” Mac stuffed the papers back into his briefcase and shut it with a snap. Why did Hailey have to spoil this?
“It could be.”
“We’re adversaries.” Even if he wanted to get involved with the guy who was thwarting his entire multimillion-dollar project, he’d be stupid to do it.
“We disagree on a single subject. That hardly makes us enemies. I’m sure there are plenty of other subjects we could agree on. Like dessert?”
“Dessert?”
“Chocolate cake? Or….” Hailey wiggled his eyebrows. “I’m still lusting over your shoulders.”
“Yeah? Well, since everything I’m thinking is apparently so obvious to you, why don’t you tell me what I’m doing.”
“Sulking, if I were going to put a name to it.”
The accusation made Mac sulk harder. He was a genius and a shark and a powerful force of nature. He could pick up a hundred men like Hailey if he wanted to—bring them home two or three at a time. He didn’t sulk. “Order your cake. That’s all you’re getting.”
Hailey laughed as he flagged down a waiter.
Chapter Three
“There’s no way.” Mac grinned despite himself. With the specter of business behind them, their conversation on the drive back to Hailey’s store had turned personal, and somewhere along the way he’d stopped sulking and had started laughing.
“I promise you,” Hailey said. “My original name was worse.”
That Hailey had named himself didn’t surprise him. Whose parents named their son Hailey? And that Hailey had named himself after a comet also didn’t surprise him. He was bright like that, a flash of the otherworldly. But Hailey’s claim that he’d had to change his name because his birth name was even further out-there was hard to believe.
