Zach Richardson.
The name sounded vaguely familiar, but Asher couldn’t have put a face to it prior to the night before. Now, however, he knew quite a lot about Zach Richardson’s face—and most of his other body parts as well.
The email included a phone number as well as an address, and Asher considered calling, but he thought this conversation needed to be face-to-face. A phone call was too impersonal for the apology he needed to make, and he thought it might be best if he didn’t give Zach advance notice of his arrival, just in case Zach decided to bolt.
He called his driver, Parker, and within ten minutes, he was on his way to Zach’s place, which was located in an area popular with young professionals. He wasn’t sure how long he’d be, so he told Parker he’d call when he was ready to return home. Ignoring the nervous roiling of his stomach, he climbed the steps and buzzed Zach’s unit.
There was no answer for at least a minute, and he’d started to think Zach wasn’t at home when the speaker crackled to life. “Yes?”
“Zach? It’s Asher Caldwell. I’d like to talk to you.”
Again there was silence, and then the door to the building buzzed as the lock was released. He’d cleared one hurdle, although Asher wasn’t anywhere near relaxed. The worst part was yet to come. He found the elevator and headed up to Zach’s floor, and all too soon, he was in front of Zach’s door. He knocked, hoping he hadn’t come all this way only to have Zach slam the door in his face. As much as he might deserve it, he wanted to talk face-to-face, not face-to-door.
The door opened, but the man on the other side bore little resemblance to the one Asher had met the previous night. His dark hair was tousled, his eyes were a soft brown behind glasses rather than the clear blue they had been, and his face looked pale and drawn. Zach was dressed in a baggy Princeton sweatshirt and black sweatpants, and he wouldn’t meet Asher’s gaze.
“Please come in,” Zach said, stepping back so Asher could enter.
“Thank you.” Asher fought the inexplicable urge to wrap his arms around Zach and bury his fingers in Zach’s mussed hair.
Last night, Zach had been the perfect hot package, but today he was someone Asher could curl up on the couch and share the Sunday paper with. A vision of Zach settled on one end of Asher’s couch, knees pulled up and a cup of coffee in his hand, materialized in Asher’s mind, and it was vivid enough to stagger him. For some reason, his imaginary Zach had baggy wool socks, and he was almost frightened by how much he wanted to see that image in reality.
“I owe you a huge apology,” he said. “I had no idea you work at the firm.”
“I figured that out,” Zach said, his voice sounding raw. He cleared his throat. “I have a letter of resignation ready and signed, if you want it.”
Asher shook his head, dismayed at the thought of having upset Zach so much that he wanted to leave the firm. “I don’t want you to resign, not unless you’re too uncomfortable around me to work there anymore.”
Zach drew in a shuddering breath. “I don’t want to leave, no, but I’d rather resign than be fired. I knew you’d figure out what happened, and I considered the possibility you’d think I’d done it deliberately and want me gone.”
“No, this was my mistake, not yours.” Asher wasn’t sure if a touch would be welcome, but he wanted to offer some kind of reassurance, so he squeezed Zach’s shoulder briefly. “How could you have planned it? No one other than my housekeeper and the escort service knows what I do.”
Zach went rigid when Asher touched him, but he didn’t pull away. “All right.” He swallowed hard. “It was my mistake as well. I should have known better.”
Asher frowned, puzzled by that response. “What do you mean?”
Zach glanced up, seeming surprised by the question, but then he looked away with an awkward shrug. “I’m not the kind of man who would attract you. I should have known it couldn’t be real.”
Asher was affronted not only on his own behalf, but Zach’s as well. He couldn’t believe Zach underestimated his own appeal so much. “Do you seriously think I faked it last night?” he asked. “Yes, I thought you were an escort, but I’ve turned away escorts that I didn’t feel any chemistry with and vice versa. Believe me, I enjoyed every minute of licking my way up your long, sexy legs. I haven’t had anyone respond to me the way you did in years, and I liked it so much, I called the service this morning because I wanted to ask for you again.”
Surprisingly, Zach’s stoic facade cracked, and he flinched away as though Asher had slapped him. “Don’t!” he ground out, his voice ragged. “Just don’t. You’ve been in the same room with me and never noticed me before. It wasn’t me you wanted.” He looked up, his expression pained. “You never once said my name. Did you even remember it once I’d told you?”
“No.” Asher hated to admit it, but he suspected lying to Zach about anything—even if it hurt—would make things worse. “I didn’t think I needed to because I didn’t plan to see you again. I didn’t plan onwantingto see you again, but I did. I still do.” He blew out a sharp breath and scrubbed his face with one hand. “I can’t believe I’ve never noticed you at work before. I mean, I don’t trawl for dates at work, but I’m not blind, and you’re definitely my type—even more so with brown eyes instead of blue.”
A flush stole over Zach’s cheeks, the brief flash of temper fading into resignation. “It’s not your fault for never noticing me. No one ever does.” He lowered his gaze to the floor. “Last night… well, that wasn’t really me. Some friends gave me a makeover and took me to a club, because I haven’t been out on a date in a long time. That’s where I was when I got called to bring you the plea deal. I should have come home and changed before going to your apartment. If I’d looked like I normally do—like this—I’m sure you wouldn’t have mistaken me for a prostit—” He stumbled over the word, and his blush deepened. “I mean, an escort.”
It was Asher’s turn to blush. He’d never felt ashamed of relying on paid companionship, because it suited his needs, but maybe his avoidant behavior was just as bad in its own way as his father’s philandering. Then again, he’d never broken up any families by hiring escorts.
“You didn’t bring any of this on yourself because of how you were dressed,” Asher said. “It’s all on me. I saw a hot, sexy guy waiting for me, and I made an assumption because I was expecting an escort. I should have asked more questions when I realized you were so different from the other guys.” He paused, studying Zach. “You’d still be hot in a suit, though, with that haircut and those big brown eyes. I really don’t know how I never noticed you before.”
“I still can’t believe you thought I looked sexy and took me to bed.” Zach glanced at Asher through his lashes. “I want you to know I don’t…. I mean I haven’t…. Um.” He drew in a deep breath, assuming the persona of a lawyer facing a judge. “You’re the first person I’ve slept with in a long time. I’m glad you don’t want me to leave the firm, but maybe I should recuse myself from the Harris case, because I don’t want things to be awkward at work for either of us.”
Something within Asher rebelled at the thought of Zach putting distance between them, and the thought that hewantedmore of Zach’s company scared the hell out of him. Asher had been careful not to put himself in situations where he might form romantic attachments, but now he wanted the very thing he’d tried so hard to avoid.
He didn’t have to act on this unexpected desire, of course. He could let Zach recuse himself from the case and make sure they had minimal opportunities to cross paths at work—and the dismay he felt at the mere thought told him how different this situation was from anything he’d experienced before. He’d felt a sense of peace and connection with Zach last night that he’d never experienced with anyone else. He’d allowed himself to relax in Zach’s arms, however briefly, and he’d felt safe doing so. Seeking more of that connection was potentially dangerous, but perhaps it would be worth the risk.
“I’d rather you didn’t,” he said, stepping closer and clasping Zach’s hand loosely. “I’d like to see more of you, not less.”
Zach’s brown eyes were wide behind his glasses, and his expression was vulnerable. “Do you mean dating or something else?”
