Page 3 of Just Business
There was the tingle in the back of his skull, the one that signaled the memories creeping back. He really did not want to deal with those right now. Eighteen years, countless hours of therapy, and that nightstillhaunted him. He took another breath and focused on his gloves, the silver of the airship that topped his cane, and pushed Noah back into the past, the only place he still lived.
Eli shook himself and headed for Sam’s office. It was Mr. White he should be dwelling on, not the past. He took a seat in one of the guest chairs then placed his cane against the other. “You’re going to hire him.”
Sam leaned his elbows on the desk and tented his hands. “Is that a prediction or a challenge?”
Eli couldn’t help the chuckle. They’d developed an almost a symbiotic working relationship over the past eight months spent building the firm. Sam had a vision and the determination to achieve it, plus a list of contacts a mile long. They already had companies clamoring through the door, begging for help.
Someone had to be the brakes that kept Sam from leaping too far into the unknown. Like succumbing to the pity stories of too many companies that couldn’t be saved. Or hiring abaristaas an office assistant, even if Don Miller was his advisor. Even when there was grit underneath the eyeliner. Eli took off his gloves and draped them over his thigh. “He’s abrasive.”
Sam snorted. “So are you.”
“Not in the same way.”
“True. He makes people roll their eyes. You scare the shit out of them.”
Eli leaned back and indulged in a smile. He’d made the last two interviewees pale and stammer with his blunt questions. “Better to weed out the slackers early.” And he enjoyed that aspect of this job. Probably more than he should, but Sam didn’t mind his kink when it benefited the business.
“Not sure Justin is a slacker. His résumé reads well. The cover letter is professional. Even the paper’s nice.” Sam flicked the folded pages across the desk. “And it took balls to hand it to me.”
Eli retrieved Justin’s résumé and scanned it once more, paying attention to the dates. “He’s older than he looks.” Two years younger than Eli, judging from graduation dates. Undergrad at Stanford in Management Science and Engineering. MBA at Carnegie Mellon. Makeup or no, Justin had a head on his shoulders.
And, yes, balls. He hoped Justin was late tomorrow, even by thirty seconds. “Work experience isn’t bad, before now.” Three decent companies in California before slumming it at Grounds N’at in Squirrel Hill.
“Why does he want this job?”And why do I want him to have this job?
“He’s been listening to us. Knows I want more than a receptionist. He’s willing to make less if he gets to work fortheSam Anderson.”
No fault there. A chance to work with Sam had been one of the aspects that had attracted Eli to becoming Sam’s CFO. Samwasthe best, and he didn’t blink at Eli’s other... hobbies. “Wonder if he’ll take that chipped nail polish off before the interview?”
Sam waved the question away. “If that’s your only concern...”
Hardly. Still.“I like things neat.” Justin White wasn’tneat, even if he was tempting and evocative with his jagged hair, high cheekbones, and brash mouth that just begged to be tamed. Eli shifted in his chair. “He’s... messy.”
Sam laughed. “It’s a wonder you and Michael were ever friends.”
That snapped Eli’s thoughts away from Justin. He’d been friends with Sam’s lover, Michael Sebastian, since their undergraduate days. “Michael’s messiness has always been carefully cultivated.”
A man as tall and as broad as Michael could be—and often was—intimidating. The clothes Michael chose were more suited to a tropical bar, but it relaxed folks, set them at ease. Eli had seen Michael in other outfits, as well—and watched men fall to their knees at Michael’s commands. “He chooses the effect, regardless of which look he picks.”
Sam’s eyes were not nearly as blue as Justin’s, but still penetrating. “Oh, don’t I know that.” Soft words. “I’m willing to bet Justin is just as aware of his appearance.”
The temptation. The carrot. “What’s the wager?”
“Dinner for two. Winner’s choice.”
“Done.”
They shook over Sam’s desk. Sam leaned back, his smile slight but sly. “He’ll leave the nail polish. On purpose.”
Eli picked up his gloves and cane and rose. Not even a twinge in the leg. A good day. “Why would he do that?”It wouldn’t cultivate a professional appearance.
“To fuck with you.”
Not the answer he’d expected. Eli spoke through a suddenly dry throat. “Withme?”
Sam grinned and rotated slowly to face his monitor. “Hard to miss your... contempt, Eli.”
Sam had considered another word in that pause, Eli was sure. Pinpricks trickled down his legs. Still, he grunted. “It’s not contempt.”
