“No need for dinner reservations, but thanks. I’m gonna go get ready now. See you in a few.”
“Sure.” I began the process of contacting real estate agents.
“Hello, this is Fallon McKenzie calling on behalf of Patrick Sloane of the Brooklyn Kings. I’d like to arrange an appointment to see the apartment at 30 Warren.”
“Of course, Mr. McKenzie. I can have someone meet him at the apartment this afternoon. Say, two thirty? Would that work? We’d be thrilled to show him this property, or any others he might be interested in.”
I knew not to say that Patrick wouldn’t be coming with me—they’d automatically push me off until he could make time for them personally. They only wanted to meet the main attraction. I’d make up an excuse as to why he had to cancel at the last minute.
“Sounds good. We’ll meet you at the residence.”
“We can send a car for you if you’d like.”
I held back a laugh at the agent’s eagerness. “That won’t be necessary. Thank you and see you then.”
I made a second appointment for a showing on Washington Street and was met with the same barely restrained enthusiasm. I put the appointments in my calendar and was continuing my search for suitable apartments when Trick emerged from the bedroom. He wore a button-down shirt with the sleeves rolledup, and I couldn’t help eyeing all that dark hair on his strong forearms. A pair of dress slacks stretched over his powerful thighs, showcasing the outline of that impressive dick. The whole package made me slightly weak. If sex on a stick was a picture, it would be Patrick Sloane.
“What?” He grabbed the suit jacket and glanced at me. “Is something wrong?”
Busted. I blinked, shaking my head. “No, sorry, I was running through the appointments I’d made.”
“Oh, good. I thought I was dressed all wrong.”
Oh, no. You’re perfect. Just fucking perfect.
He slipped his phone and wallet into his pockets. “I’ll see you later or tomorrow.”
“I have appointments for two places—both sound like what you’re looking for. I’ll send you pictures.”
“Okay. I, uh, I might go out later, so if I don’t answer, I’ll catch up with you in the morning. What time do you start?”
I grinned. “When I wake up—around six. I start by checking emails and socials.”
His jaw fell open. “Okay, well…that’s a little early for me. Let’s say, eight thirty? I’ll have breakfast ready for us.”
Even though it was during the season, it seemed like Trick didn’t play by the rules and was planning on hooking up during the week between games. I’d never had to worry about that with Dev, since he and Brody were together. Guess he wasn’tthatdone with women yet.
I merely nodded. “See you tomorrow. I’ll be ready in a few minutes, and I’ll leave with you.”
“Don’t rush. Stay and finish whatever you’re doing. I’m late, and the car’s already waiting. The door locks behind you. I’ll have the front desk make you a key card.”
“Thanks.”
He left, and I found several more apartments to check for tomorrow and made some notes, then decided to hit the bathroom before leaving. As I passed through the bedroom, I stopped short when I saw on the bed the contents of the envelope Patrick had received earlier that afternoon. I sank to the bed and stared at the familiar logo on the letterhead.
Intensity.
The West Coast club we’d met at in college had a New York branch. I knew because I was still a member. I was out but frequented the discreet club. Why? Dev continued to pay for my membership as part of my yearly Christmas present. He still thought it would be safer than hooking up with random strangers, but I rarely went more than once a month, if that. Occasionally I’d meet someone, but it was only ever a one-night thing. I had no room for a relationship—I’d spent so many years managing the drama of Dev’s.
But this was totally unexpected. What if I saw Patrick there with another man? My stomach lurched, and my hand curled into a fist.
He’d be there later. I’d bet on it.
Good thing I had no plans to go. I was definitely staying home.
Chapter Four
Patrick
