Jacob shrugged. “Maybe. But even you don’t make your love-connection appointments at the office.”
Simon laughed at the joke and went back to looking through the pile of sticky coffee-stained receipts that Jacob had palmed off on him. Maybe after the job was over, Jacob mused, he should take on an intern. It was nice to have someone to hand the suckier jobs to. But he was still stuck sorting through the rest of the expenses. He finished off the Milky Way as he pulled out any receipt that didn’t seem to do with PeaPod’s running expenses—flowers from Tuscan Blooms, chocolates from Schakolad, and an Iron Cactus Tequila Dinner Cruise for two. Expensive tastes and a preference for staying out of the public eye.
Despite himself Jacob thought of Clayton, who would have been cuter if he’d embraced the nerd and turned out to be a lot braver—or more stupid—than you’d expect. He wondered if he’d been happy with that woman. The taste of chocolate and caramel in his mouth cloyed, suddenly sickening, and he crumpled the wrapper up to stuff between the cushions of the couch.
“Trash,” Simon said.
It would put some distance between him and his thoughts. Jacob retrieved the wrapper, got up, and walked over to pointedly toss it in the trashcan. Since he wasn’t the one with a drinking not-problem, he stole Simon’s beer from the counter.
“Anything?” he asked as he lifted the bottle to his mouth.
Simon held up a crumpled piece of paper between two fingers. It was a to-do list for the day Clayton died. Or Jacob assumed it was from the notes about the board, the police, and sending condolences to the next of kin.
“No mention of the girlfriend,” he said.
“What about the receipts? Was there anything recent?”
The beer tasted like beer, but the thought of Simon’s mouth on the glass still tickled the underbelly of Jacob’s lust. He tried to ignore it.
“He had chocolates delivered last week with a begging-off note,” Jacob said. He made bunny ears with the hand not holding the beer and quoted. “‘Sorry. Next time.’ If shewasinvolved in this, maybe he was buying time?”
“Maybe,” Simon said, and reached for the beer. His fingers bumped against Jacob’s. Jacob surrendered the beer to Simon and shoved his hands into his jeans.
“How’s your shoulder?”
“It’s fine,” Simon said. That was obviously a lie. “How’s your ribs?”
“Okay,” Jacob said. He took a deep breath. It still hurt as his ribs moved around his lungs, but it was an ache instead of a stabbing pain. “I guess I’m going to live.”
“Good,” Simon said. Instead of taking a drink, he put the beer in the sink. “Get some sleep. You can chase our mystery woman tomorrow while I go and catch up with Mr. Lau. You can stay here overnight, if you want.”
Jacob snorted. “Well, I’m sure as fuck not going back to my place,” he said. “They already know where that is. Don’t worry. I’ll take the couch.”
He’d gotten the message—no Bali, no kissing. His brain had, at least. But there was a sticky, horny part of his libido waiting with bated breath for Simon to drag him to bed. It hung on right up to the point Simon went into the bedroom and closed the door behind him.
Jacob let his breath out on a slow sigh, puffed his cheeks out, and grabbed the half-empty beer from the sink. He tilted it up to his lips and took a draft. The chill settled like an ache in his breastbone.
“Guess we both got blown off, mystery lady,” he muttered. “Let’s see if I can find you so we can compare notes?”
He finished the beer and went back to work.
IT WASstill dark when he woke up with that vaguely resentful feeling that meant his body clock still thought he should be asleep. He also had a crick in the back of his neck and a feeling that he was being watched. The yawn hijacked his mouth and made his eyes water and his jaw crack. He blinked his vision clear and propped himself up on his elbow. Simon sat on the coffee table, watching Jacob with his elbows resting on his knees. His face was thrown in shadow, and the lean angle of his body was all dark planes and hollows.
It was a bit weird, but Jacob knew just what to say. Vowel sounds mostly, based on the confused noise that came out of his mouth. He scrubbed his hand over his face. Waking up was never his favorite part of the day, but professional pride was on the line. He should be able to manage a few syllables.
He managed to almost get the relevant word sounds in the right order. “Wha?”
“You know why I don’t drink?” Simon asked. He didn’t wait for Jacob to say anything, Instead he supplied his own answer. “It’s because I make bad decisions.”
“Like what?”
Simon’s shadowed profile was still and thoughtful, hard to read. Then he slid off the table, knelt on the floor, and leaned over Jacob’s body. “Like this.”
He kissed Jacob, his mouth minted and stubble scraping rough against Jacob’s skin. It probably wasn’t a great idea to kiss him back, but Jacob did anyhow. If he needed to, he could come up with a justification later. Even it was just “I wanted it.”
It was an awkward kiss. Jacob’s back was stiff, and Simon was nursing his shoulder. But it was still hot. Jacob curled his hand around the nape of Simon’s neck and felt warm skin and the bristle of cropped hair against his palm. Heat crawled down his spine and into his balls and dragged at the muscles in his thighs and stomach. He propped himself up on his elbow, felt the ache as flesh moved over his ribs, and sighed a wordless protest between wet lips as Simon pulled back from him.
“Come to bed,” Simon said.
