“Sorry,” he said again, although what on earth he was apologizing for this time I honestly didn’t know.
I looked behind me again. If he wanted to leave, it was the wrong direction. Other than the impersonal furnishings and that overdone welcome basket, there wasn’t anything in the?—
Oh. The welcome basket?
“Are you hungry?” I asked, turning back to him as I remembered the thought I’d had about that a moment ago.
His blush deepened, and he shook his head in an abortive, jerking motion that was entirely unbelievable.
I walked back to the basket and grabbed the packet of cookies I’d tossed next to it. I certainly had no use for them, and who didn’t like chocolate? But then I glanced back at him, at those sparrow-thin collar bones and the stunning-but-too-well-defined cheekbones… and hell, at the way he most assuredlywasn’tlooking at the cookies in my hand. Ignoring them with the dedication of someone who doesn’t want to have to see something they want desperately, but know they can’t have.
Something cramped in my chest. I knew that feeling. And then the boy’s stomach rumbled, loudly enough that I could hear it from here, and a miserable look of failure came over his face as he wrapped his arms around his belly as if he could hide it,his mouth already forming what I was sure would be another apology.
I tossed down the cookies but picked up the basket, speaking before he could get a word out. “Did you have dinner before you came here tonight?” I asked, crossing back to the sofa and placing the oversized and overflowing basket down next to him.
His mouth opened and closed, his eyes fixed on me like a laser, as if he couldn’t risk letting his gaze stray toward the basket for anything. “I… um…”
“So you haven’t eaten since lunch?” I guessed when he prevaricated, nudging it closer to him with a smile.
He twisted his hands together until the knuckles were white as his throat worked a little. “I’m not hungry,” he finally said, still doing his best to ignore the basket. “But… but thank you.”
I didn’t know his story and he wasn’t mine to care for, but no. That wasn’t going to fly. He may have been a temptation that I’d been fighting myself to resist, but this? Giving him something he so clearly needed? That was more like a compulsion, and one I had no interest in fighting.
“Hungry or not,” I said, not buying his claim for even a moment. “I want you to choose something for yourself. Something healthy.”
I took a seat on the other side of the basket, so that he couldn’t look at me without having it in his line of sight. He hesitated again, but then finally dropped his eyes to the bounty that I probably would have left untouched all week. The basket was the kind of thing that showed up at my office all the time, and I had no doubt it was standard with a room like this. I hadn’t really given it any thought, but now I was glad it was here.
“I promise it won’t bite,” I teased him with a wink.Then, when he blushed again, I urged, “Go on now. What looks good to you?”
He finally reached in and pulled out the smallest packet in the entire basket, something with a gourmet-looking label that held maybe a dozen roasted nuts or so, and carefully set it down on the sofa next to him.
“Sweetheart…” I gave him a stern look. “I thought you promised me anything I wanted tonight.”
His eyes had been trained on the nuts as if they might actually bite after all, but he instantly snapped them back up to meet mine, his spine straightening again. “Yes. Anything. What, um, what would you like me to do?”
I grinned, a warm sort of satisfaction filling my chest. He wanted to be a good boy, didn’t he? It was more than his profession. It was instinctive. And I… hell, I wanted to be good, too. I wanted to be goodtohim.
“I want to see you eat something,” I told him. “Pick a couple more snacks out. Those nuts are barely a mouthful.”
His eyes went round. “You want me to… toeat? Right now?”
“That’s right. Can you do that for me? I’ll feel better if I know you’ve had something to help with having missed dinner.”
He nodded slowly, then a little faster, then finally dug back into the basket, pulling out a chunk of cheese and a packet of hearty-looking crackers.
“Are… Are these okay?” he asked, holding them out for my inspection.
I would have liked to see him get some meat, too—hell, I’d like to make sure he got an entire meal—but it would do… for now.
“Good boy,” I said, the praise rolling off my tongue and feelingright. “But I think you forgot this.” I grabbed a foil-wrapped chocolate with a twist at the top and added it to his carefully lined up treasures. “You deserve a treat, too.”
“Oh,” he said softly, blushing up at me prettily. “Thank you. Are you… are you going to eat something, too?”
I’d had no plans to, but I could tell it would make him more comfortable.
“Of course,” I said, plucking out a package at random.
Once I’d torn it open, he finally followed suit, opening all three of his packages and eating slowly, scrupulously careful not to drop any crumbs or waste any as he alternated between them. Every few bites, he would look up at me with a soft, shy smile, as if asking if it was still all right. I kept nodding, giving him little encouragements thatdidsomething to me inside, and finally remembered to open my packet and join him.
