Page 38 of Takeover
“No, Sam, why me?”
Sam didn’t speak for several moments, though his lips parted. Eventually, words came out. “Because you founded this place, Michael, official paperwork or not.”
The photo album still sat on Sam’s desk, reminder of his past, both good and bad.
“You know Four Rivers’ tech better than anyone else and from end to end. And experience has shown me that you can think on your feet.” Sam paused, then added. “When you’re not being an ass.”
He couldn’t deny the last bit. “I promise not to be an ass.”
“You’ll have to give a presentation on the technology.” Sam waved over his shoulder. “I have the slides created, but it’ll sound better coming from you.”
The energy he felt earlier flagged a bit. Public speaking wasn’t his thing. Oh he could do it, he just hated it. But to miss a chance to meet folks at Sundra? Be a part of selling his company, even if it wasn’thisanymore? “I’ll do it.” He ran his fingers through his hair. “Anything else?”
Sam tented his hands, a trace of a smile flickering on his face. “You’ll have to wear a suit.”
Michael quashed his own desire to smile, and winced instead. “I can do that, too.” A dark joy warmed Michael’s core. Sam would see how well he could clean up. Another chance to fluster Sam, to leave him breathless. If it couldn’t be from sex or a beating, Michael would make do with other ways.
“Good.” Sam spun back to his computer, brought up a screen that looked suspiciously like travel arrangements, and pressed a button. “We leave on Sunday.” When he rotated back to Michael, he held something silver in his left hand.
The cuff link. The lust was nearly instant and almost painful. Sam must have read his expression, because he grinned.
You little bastard.It wasn’t an invitation, but it was close to one. All their talks must have worn off. Damn it all.
Well, if Sam wanted it, he was going to get it. Enough fooling around. He’d show Sam what being out could be like.
Michael rose, completely aware of just how hard he’d become in those few seconds. “I guess I’d better go home and think about packing.”
There’d be a bit more than a suit going into his luggage.
Chapter Six
Sam pouredhimself a coffee from the self-serve kiosk in the hotel lobby, and then joined William at a seating arrangement within view of the elevators. Eight forty-one in the morning at a hotel in New Orleans that bordered the French Quarter. Not that they’d see any more of the local area than on the whirlwind tour William had insisted they take last night. Sam took a sip of his coffee.
There’d been no time to double-check any of Fabian’s information, so he opted for doing as Fabian did—keeping William close—at least at Forum.
“Sebastian better be on time,” William said.
“He will be.” Michael was a poster boy for punctuality. He had four more minutes before their appointed meeting time.
William grunted. He looked jet-lagged and cranky and clutched a coffee of his own. Not surprising, given he’d arrived from the West Coast. In New Orleans, life happened two hours earlier for William and an hour later for Sam and Michael.
If only Sam had been able to enjoy that extra hour with Michael. But no, William had kept them out late, forgetting that morning came much earlier than in Palo Alto. Besides, there had been no good way to negotiate a possible rendezvous with Michael.
When they’d returned to the hotel, predictably, William had tried to get both of them to head with him to a strip club.
“But then, you don’t do women, do you Mike?” The animosity in William’s words had set Sam’s hackles up.
Michael had laughed. “Nope.” Then he’d stood and towered over William and said good night before retreating to the elevators.
Sam had pointed to his watch. “You’ll hate tomorrow if you go.” Then he’d paid his tab and fled, too.
By the time Sam reached the bank of cars, Michael was gone. Then again, Sam wasn’t even sure Michael would agree to another tryst. He’d kept his distance at the airport, slept part of the way on the plane, and his conversations with Sam had been more about work than pleasure. The glint Sam had seen in Michael’s eyes when he’d told him about Forum and shown him the cuff link was gone.
Sam took a swig of coffee and winced at the awful taste. Perhaps that was for the best. In three weeks, Sundra would hopefully acquire Four Rivers, and Sam would be packing his bags and moving to Boston to take the job Fabian had offered. He’d been right—the data store company was a perfect gig and it gave him a chance to return to a city he’d fled once before. The contract should be at his apartment by now. A sudden tightness caught Sam in his chest and he checked his watch, then the bank of elevators. Eight forty-three.
There wasn’t much time left for them.
“Ah, here he is.” William looked behind Sam, toward the doors to the street just as Michael stepped past Sam’s chair.
