He bounced up from his desk, eager to dive into the project. Passing by Jude’s office, he glimpsed the man’s dark head bent over his tablet, and something warm settled in his chest.
“Nice tie.” Pryce grinned. “Colorful.”
Mason flipped the thick, brightly colored silk. “Yeah, I figured it would keep me awake if I stared at it long enough.”
Pryce’s pale brows drew up. “Rough night?”
“No. Just busy and got to sleep later than I wanted. I’ve been looking at apartments.”
“Ah. Yeah, that’s a rabbit hole for sure.”
“I have a lead on a great little place not too far, so keep your fingers crossed for me. I can probably spit on one side and hit the opposite wall, but it’s walking distance.”
“Well, that’s convenient.” Pryce cocked his head. “Must still be expensive even if it is small. But I bet being Colchester’s personal assistant, you made out like a bandit.”
On alert, Mason spoke with caution. “He was a generous boss.”
“Oh, come on. The man is one of the richest in the world, right? He must’ve paid you well for services rendered.”
Again, Pryce’s choice of words set off alarm bells, but his face registered nothing coy or suspicious.
“I saved a ton of money not having to pay for rent or food—anything really, unless I went ashore on my days off. But working for Warren taught me self-discipline and organizational skills. He liked things a certain way, and I had to learn to deliver. It wasn’t easy, but there were benefits, not the least of them living on a gorgeous yacht in the middle of the South Pacific. I visited places I’d never seen or heard of before.”
The first time they’d met, he’d sensed Warren was interested in him. The second time cemented it, when he turned up with the same issues as before. Mason would’ve helped him with his computer problems even without the hundred-dollar bills the man tossed his way like breadcrumbs to a bird.
After two days where Warren spent almost as much of his time at the bar, quizzing Mason about his life, as he did taking meetings, Warren asked if he would join him for dinner. He was a perfect gentleman, but the signs of interest were there, as evidenced by the gifts Warren had delivered by messenger to his room: a bottle of 1800 Colección tequila, a handmade pure-silk shirt, and a pair of gold-and-onyx cuff links. Over caviar and oysters in the bar at the
St. Regis, Mason tried to give them all back, but Warren—all piercing gray eyes and subtle smile—refused, claiming they would belong to him as relocation gifts if he took the job as his assistant.
“I’m sure you spent plenty of time on your back.” Pryce clicked on his computer to enlarge a screen.
“I’m sorry, what?” Mason couldn’t stand the innuendos any longer. “I’m not sure I get what you mean.”
“Sunbathing, of course.” Wide eyes met his without a hint of anything calculated. “You have a killer tan. I can only imagine how warm and beautiful it must be there. It’s my dream to go to French Polynesia.”
Relieved, Mason found himself able to take a breath. The last thing he needed was for Jude to discover he’d been sleeping with his former boss.
“Well, if you ever do go, make sure you hit me up for all the best places. I know all the secrets tourists don’t.”
“I’ll bet you do. Now, here’s where I want to start.”
Pryce pulled over the laptop, and Mason forgot about the past and concentrated on the present and future.
* * *
At six p.m., he yawned and closed his eyes to relieve the strain from staring at his computer all afternoon. Once he’d finished with Pryce, which took up the entire morning, Jude had called him in to a video conference with the candy company executives to speak about his suggestions. The rest of the afternoon he followed Jude into meeting after meeting, taking notes on what was discussed, typing them up, and putting them into the shared drive for Jude to review.
“Sleeping on the job?”
He startled, and his eyes flew open to see Jude smiling, arms crossed and lounging in his doorway. His shirt collar lay open, his tie loosened. Dark stubble roughened his jaw, and his hair was mussed as if he’d been running his hands through it.
“Not on your life.”
All buttoned up, Jude oozed power and prestige, with a haughty, untouchable, almost dark facade. A man of mystery. But Mason preferred this Jude—a bit rumpled and weary, unlaced and approachable.
Sex on legs. Legs that Mason recalled against his, rough, hairy, and thick with muscles.
Yeah. Mason wanted that again, and a powerful ache of longing rose inside him. He wanted to lock the door and have Jude fuck him over the desk right then and there. God, he was ready for it.
