Rough [02] - Roughhousing (17 page)

"Oh.” Macy frowned, and then pursed her lips in the perfect imitation of a little girl pout. “Darn! I had this fantasy thing going on there for a little while ever since I saw you two. Jamie was so nice; I knew any guy he dated would be nice, too."

She heaved a dramatic sigh, shrugging her bare shoulders in a practiced gesture that sent her breasts straining against the thin fabric of her tank top.

"I can understand. It's like I said, you're nice guys.” She sighed again. Eyes wide in amazement, she added, “I just never knew a guy who wanted to be faithful, you know? Let alone two of you! Wow!” Her frown eased. She leaned into Bram's space again. Giving them both a co-conspirator's nod, she confided, “I totally respect that."

"I knew you would, Macy. You strike me as a very empathetic and understanding woman. I want to thank you for helping Jamie out and making sure he got medical attention. You're a special woman, Macy Love."

The man really was great with people. James watched Macy beam a megawatt smile around the room, her girlish giggle light and full of pleasure. “You're nice, Bram! A girl doesn't get to meet a lot of nice guys these days, married or single. I could be friends with you guys!"

James exchanged a smile with Bram. Bram winked at James, tilting his head to indicate the door. James moved forward and took Macy by the arm. He gently led her toward the waiting hallway. “We are friends, Macy. But we're also tired and on our way out.” He opened the door.

Macy suddenly stopped walking. “You're leaving? Already?” A genuine distressed pout made her look young and naive. “So soon?"

Coming up behind her, Bram soothed her with a pat to one shoulder and helped edge her out into the hallway. “He's spending a few days with me. Until he feels better.” Bram gathered up his original load, blocking off any return entry into the apartment.

James grabbed the remaining suitcase as Bram herded Macy further down the hall. He locked his apartment with only a tiny sigh of regret at leaving behind what was supposed to have been his new sanctuary. His life always seemed to be just slightly out of control since college. The only time it seemed secure and stable was when he was with Bram. Then his own fear of losing that security made him run in the other direction. He just couldn't seem to get it right.

James turned back to the others in time to catch Bram saying, “Unless I can convince him to make it permanent."

He gave Bram a weak smile. Bram gave him a heated, possessive stare and a knowing smile that left James feeling weak-kneed.

He took a few deep breaths to calm the flip-flops his stomach was doing. There was no doubt about it, Bram was a gorgeous man. Even Macy was hanging on his arm, staring up at him with a look of sheer adoration on her face. James still couldn't believe the man wanted him and only him. His life never worked out this good.

"Come on, Jamie. It's getting late and I need to get you to bed.” Bram hefted his burden higher and waited for James to join him. Macy giggled at the dual implications of Bram's comment and James blushed.

Embarrassed, he huffed, “Okay, I'm coming."

When Macy giggled louder, and Bram chuckled, he realized what he said. His blush deepened.

"You two are not nice.” A wave of fatigue washed over him and he rubbed lightly at the side of his head. “Let's go before you have to carry me, too, Caveman. Bye, Macy."

He waved at Macy and watched as she let herself into her own apartment, then followed Bram out to the truck and the blissful promise of food and a good night's rest. Tomorrow he'd be back at the grindstone.

Chapter Thirteen

When James arrived at work Tuesday morning the offices at Dunn and Piper seemed unusually solemn, but playing catch up with his workload all morning didn't give him a lot of time to think about it.

He spent most of his time ignoring the shocked stares and curious questions of his co-workers. He gave a brief but adequate explanation to one of the secretaries, knowing that by mid-morning the entire firm would have the story, more or less, and stop asking him about it. Personally, he was just glad he'd stopped peeing blood and that his side didn't go into spasms every time he moved.

He didn't care about the whispers or the stares. Those had been going on since he started dating Bram and he'd adjusted to them. Even overhearing Bram's name in a murmured conversation didn't illicit more than an unsettling rush of possessiveness in him now. He knew it wasn't true, but it seemed just about every woman in the firm either wanted James to marry him or wanted to marry Bram herself. James found himself in the odd position of being the envy of the secretarial pool. He didn't want to know how many of the males in the building were interested in his boyfriend.

Just after lunch, James got a call from Mr. Dunn's secretary asking him to come up to Dunn's office to discuss the Becker project. He took a moment to enjoy the flush of contentment settling in his stomach. It had been Bram who nagged him into bringing his plans into the office that morning. Now he was glad he had given in and listened to Bram. It felt nice to have someone looking out for him, especially about little things. He'd forgotten what that felt like until recently.

Dunn's secretary had implied he needed to hurry. James grabbed his portfolio and presented himself to his boss’ secretary in under three minutes.

Mrs. Allen was in her fifties, plump, efficient, and totally dedicated to her job and Mr. Dunn. She'd been stationed behind her desk for so many decades people teased she had come with the building when it was erected one hundred and twenty years ago. No one ever remembered her calling off ill and her vacation always coincided with her boss'. If it wasn't for the fact they were both openly dedicated to their spouses, rumors would have been flying.

As James approached her desk, Dunn's door popped open. Startled, both James and Mrs. Allen turned to face Dunn as he strode out of his office. Giving James a welcoming nod, Dunn moved quickly out into the secretarial area.

"Ah, James! Good.” Dunn's gaze critically examined James’ face, gaze lingering over the exposed suture line embedded in the deep purple bruise at his temple. Nonplussed, Dunn didn't comment, but his voice took on a softer tone.

"I'm late for a meeting, but I wanted to turn the project over so you could get started on revising the designs."

James frowned and glanced down at his unopened portfolio. Dunn hadn't even seen his work yet. “Turn it over? I don't understand, sir. I thought this was about the Becker project?

Dunn nodded. “It is."

Frown deepening, James resisted the urge to chew on his lower lip. “That's Art Wheeler's project."

"Not any more.” Dunn looked away, glancing at Mrs. Allen then back at James. His expression seemed grim. “I'll explain things in more detail soon, but for now, the Becker Estate project is yours."

"But you haven't even seen my plans.” He offered the portfolio.

Dunn gently pushed it away. “I trust your judgment, James. You're a very good architect.” He gripped James’ shoulder. “You'll go far with this company.

"But—."

"Trust me. The Project is yours. Get started on it as soon as possible.” Dunn stepped away. His secretary immediately rose and Dunn accepted a folder from her. “We'll need to register the blueprints with the city so we can start accepting construction bids as soon as possible. Final decisions on them will be made in three weeks."

Dunn's clipped tone made it obvious he was done with the discussion. James had no choice but to accept it.

"Okay. Ah, thank you, sir.” James looked to Mrs. Allen for a clue about what had just happened, but only got a noncommittal smile from her. He looked away when her distressed gaze darted over his face. Holding her hands clasped tightly together, she fidgeted, looking for all the world like she was having trouble resisting reaching out and touching his bruises.

"Um, I'll do the very best I can with it, sir."

"I know you will, son.” Dunn began to walk away, but turned back suddenly. “Oh, speaking of construction companies, I just hung up from talking with Bram Lord. Very persuasive man.” He nodded, a thoughtful expression on his face. “I like him."

Taken aback, James stammered, “Bram?” A burst of suspicion twisted in James’ stomach. “Why?” Dunn did nothing to alleviate his rapidly growing distrust.

"Can't talk further right now. I have a committee waiting.” He patted James on the shoulder. “We'll have a longer, private chat later."

Striding away, Dunn called out over his shoulder. “Lisa, please schedule an appointment for James at my first available opening.” His confident, reassuring gaze landed on James. “You'll do fine.” Dunn disappeared down the hall and into one of the large, executive conference rooms.

James was left standing in front of Lisa, his unseen renovation plans in hand.

Why had Bram called his boss? A dozen possible excuses flashed through his mind and were just as rapidly discarded. Nothing made sense.

Bram had insisted James take his plans to the office and find time to show them to Dunn, reminding him once before they left the house and again when Bram dropped him off at work.

They had both decided James would forego driving until the dizziness and pounding headaches disappeared completely. He appreciated the thoughtfulness and help, but now he felt slightly trapped and isolated without his own car. It didn't matter that he shouldn't be driving it at the moment.

The nagging feeling Bram had interceded on his behalf with the project kept popping up between the hammering beats of the headache that just wouldn't stop growing at the side of James’ head. He closed his eyes and gingerly rubbed at a patch of scalp that didn't hurt as much as the rest of it and tried to think. A sudden touch on his arm jerked him back to the moment and he opened his eyelids to see Mrs. Allen's concerned face.

"Are you all right, Mr. Justin? Can I get you something?” She frowned as she took in all of his bruises close up. “Headache?"

James sighed and dropped his hand, taking a firmer grip on his portfolio. “Thank you Mrs. Allen, but I'm all right."

Embarrassed, he turned away, retreating from her concern and curious gaze. Not that he didn't appreciate her good intentions, but it made him uncomfortable to be the object of a stranger's concern.

James hurried away, his hand automatically back to rubbing his head, trying to erase the doubt and suspicion that burst to life and fed on the confusion and pain in his head. He had a dozen questions he wanted to ask about the project, but the need to distance himself overrode his need for answers. Besides, he felt sure there was one place he could get all the answers he needed and probably a few he didn't want.

* * * *

The cab pulled up outside the now familiar construction site. James spent a few minutes scanning the workers looking for someone he felt confident to talk with about Bram's whereabouts. It only took him half a minute to find out Bram was at the office today. James returned to the waiting cab and took off, leaving a chorus of curious stares behind him.

The ride from the site to the prestigious offices of Bram's firm did nothing to calm down James’ agitation and suspicions. Eclipse Construction was a huge, influential firm that worked with companies like Dunn and Piper all the time. There could be an assortment of business reasons its president would call his boss, but James couldn't get past the idea Bram was doing what Bram did best—taking care of things.

James had been so sure they had come to an understanding about him controlling his own life outside of sex that the heavy disappointment pressing in on him from all sides made it difficult to think. His headache was screaming at him to the point his vision blurred with the pain, but he had to focus on clearing up this issue before he could accept the project with a clear conscience. The idea that he might have gained the most important job of his career thus far because of an outside influence tore at his self-esteem and magnified his insecurities. Wasn't he good enough to get the job based on his own talent?

Once the cab stopped at the curb in front of the Eclipse offices, James flew onto the sidewalk and stormed into the building. He paused at the main desk long enough to get directions to Bram's office, still seething. But by the time he walked through the huge, elegant lobby, rode the elevators to the top floor, and was directed to a large, mahogany-lined reception area, nerves, tension, and no small measure of awe had replaced most of his ire.

A middle-aged, tall, well-dressed woman sat behind the desk guarding the doorway to what James had been told was Bram's office. She stood as James approached and offered her hand before he had the chance to speak.

"Good morning, sir. I'm Angela Bell, Mr. Lord's administrative assistant. May I help you?” Her voice was clear, firm, and confident, like Bram's voice. Her eyes were kind and her pale pink smile seemed genuine.

James shook her hand. He appreciated the fact that after the first once over, her gaze didn't linger curiously over his obvious injuries. He wished he had taken a moment to freshen up before coming. He didn't know if it mattered now, but first appearances were important and his curly hair never seemed to stay put. He wanted to impress Bram's staff and friends as much as Bram had his own.

Suppressing the nagging feeling he was making a mistake, James took a deep, calming breath. “I'd like to see Mr. Lord if he's available. I don't have an appointment. It's personal."

Her smile stayed intact, but she cocked her head to one side and looked more closely at him. “Personal? I'm afraid I don't understand."

James suddenly realized his facial injuries could give the impression of being a problem. He'd obviously been in one fight. It wasn't impossible that the woman thought he was here to cause trouble.

Swallowing down his embarrassment, James explained, “I'd like just a moment of his time.” She still didn't make a move toward her phone, so he added, “I'm James Justin.” Her expression didn't change at the mention of his name so he added, “Bram and I are seeing each other."

"Oh!
Jamie
!” The woman's neutral expression cleared like clouds parting to let the sunshine through. She moved rapidly around the desk and warmly shook his hand again. “I'm so pleased to meet you. Mr. Lord has talked so much about you! I'm sure he'll be delighted you're here.” The woman returned to her seat and picked up the phone. Seconds later she was murmuring into the handset.