his mouth went dry at the display. He was not going to analyze the absurd way he reacted to Scott. No way.
Scott grinned. "I dropped a box of paper clips."
"Wouldn't it have been easier...never mind." Preston shook his head. His gaze raked over Jack's little brother. It had been years since he'd seen Scott. In fact, the kid was nineteen to his thirty when last he'd been in town. Six years later he was back and now Ken had given him the job.
Sure, Ken had talked to Preston about it. He could hardly refuse to allow Scott to be hired. Ken had given Preston his own shot there at the firm. But he didn't have to like it.
Shorter than either his brother or his father, Scott stood maybe an inch shorter than Preston's own six feet. Scott's hair was a darker shade of blond than Jack's, too. He had the same violet blue eyes as the rest of the Trasks.
For some reason Preston had never thought about too carefully, he found Scott to be just about the best looking man he'd ever seen. Six years ago, he'd even had a few inappropriate dreams about Scott. Wet dreams. Scott was gay, but Preston wasn't so there was absolutely no reason to be dreaming of Scott that way. And yet...Preston appreciated the way Scott's biceps bulged under his thin T-shirt.
"We wear business attire here," Preston said, indicating Scott's casual clothing.
"Yeah, yeah. I know. Dad told me. I'm going suit shopping later today."
"I see. Listen, could you keep the music way down from now on? I had a client in my office this morning."
Scott tilted his head to the right and hit his left ear.
"What are you doing now?"
"I think I got water in my ear when I showered this morning." Scott straightened. "Wow, it's been a while, huh? Two, three years?"
"Six."
Scott nodded. "Hmm. You shouldn't be such a stranger, Pres."
"You've been the one living in New York, not me."
He grinned, showing two dimples. "Oh yeah. Well, anyway, I'm starved. Where are you buying me breakfast?"
"Breakfast? I'm not buying you breakfast. I just came in here to tell you keep it down."
"Yeah, you are. There's a diner down the street. I saw it on the way here. We'll go there." Scott approached him and pushed him toward the still open door of his office. "You do want me to help prove Mrs. Windham's grandson innocent, don't you?"
* * * *
Scotty kept one eye fixed on the plastic menu the waitress had handed him, but his other he used to focus on Preston. Man, the guy was hotter than he was six years ago. Was that even possible? Oh yeah, he was hungry all right. For the straight man sitting across from him in the booth.
Dark curly hair, brown soulful eyes. Full, sensuous mouth. Perfect chiseled jaw. Oh fuck. He was getting hard.
Scotty cleared his throat, shifted on the bench. "What are you going to have?"
"Hmm. Pancakes, I suppose." Preston set his menu down and reached for his coffee. "You?"
"I'm pretty hungry. I'm going to have eggs, bacon, sausage, potatoes and toast."
"I'm not feeding you all week. Just breakfast."
Scotty grinned. He loved the way the corners of Preston's mouth quirked up. "I'm still growing."
"You're twenty-five. You aren't still growing. Not to mention that stuff is terrible for you."
"Whatever. Here comes the waitress." Scotty rattled off his order and then Preston gave his. She hurried away.
"What are you really doing at Trask and Reynolds, Scott?"
Scotty dipped his tea bag in the lukewarm water the waitress had brought him. "Working, just like you. I needed a job. Dad suggested I work for you guys doing the accounting and investigating. What's so strange about that?"
"I've never known you to be serious about anything."
Scotty frowned, trying to push aside the annoyance Preston's words caused. "You knew me when I was nineteen, Pres. I've changed since then."
Preston rolled his eyes. "Sure you have. For the record my name is Preston, not Pres. If you've changed so much, what was that this morning?"
"What was what?"
"The blaring rock music coming from your
Scott grinned. "I dropped a box of paper clips."
"Wouldn't it have been easier...never mind." Preston shook his head. His gaze raked over Jack's little brother. It had been years since he'd seen Scott. In fact, the kid was nineteen to his thirty when last he'd been in town. Six years later he was back and now Ken had given him the job.
Sure, Ken had talked to Preston about it. He could hardly refuse to allow Scott to be hired. Ken had given Preston his own shot there at the firm. But he didn't have to like it.
Shorter than either his brother or his father, Scott stood maybe an inch shorter than Preston's own six feet. Scott's hair was a darker shade of blond than Jack's, too. He had the same violet blue eyes as the rest of the Trasks.
For some reason Preston had never thought about too carefully, he found Scott to be just about the best looking man he'd ever seen. Six years ago, he'd even had a few inappropriate dreams about Scott. Wet dreams. Scott was gay, but Preston wasn't so there was absolutely no reason to be dreaming of Scott that way. And yet...Preston appreciated the way Scott's biceps bulged under his thin T-shirt.
"We wear business attire here," Preston said, indicating Scott's casual clothing.
"Yeah, yeah. I know. Dad told me. I'm going suit shopping later today."
"I see. Listen, could you keep the music way down from now on? I had a client in my office this morning."
Scott tilted his head to the right and hit his left ear.
"What are you doing now?"
"I think I got water in my ear when I showered this morning." Scott straightened. "Wow, it's been a while, huh? Two, three years?"
"Six."
Scott nodded. "Hmm. You shouldn't be such a stranger, Pres."
"You've been the one living in New York, not me."
He grinned, showing two dimples. "Oh yeah. Well, anyway, I'm starved. Where are you buying me breakfast?"
"Breakfast? I'm not buying you breakfast. I just came in here to tell you keep it down."
"Yeah, you are. There's a diner down the street. I saw it on the way here. We'll go there." Scott approached him and pushed him toward the still open door of his office. "You do want me to help prove Mrs. Windham's grandson innocent, don't you?"
* * * *
Scotty kept one eye fixed on the plastic menu the waitress had handed him, but his other he used to focus on Preston. Man, the guy was hotter than he was six years ago. Was that even possible? Oh yeah, he was hungry all right. For the straight man sitting across from him in the booth.
Dark curly hair, brown soulful eyes. Full, sensuous mouth. Perfect chiseled jaw. Oh fuck. He was getting hard.
Scotty cleared his throat, shifted on the bench. "What are you going to have?"
"Hmm. Pancakes, I suppose." Preston set his menu down and reached for his coffee. "You?"
"I'm pretty hungry. I'm going to have eggs, bacon, sausage, potatoes and toast."
"I'm not feeding you all week. Just breakfast."
Scotty grinned. He loved the way the corners of Preston's mouth quirked up. "I'm still growing."
"You're twenty-five. You aren't still growing. Not to mention that stuff is terrible for you."
"Whatever. Here comes the waitress." Scotty rattled off his order and then Preston gave his. She hurried away.
"What are you really doing at Trask and Reynolds, Scott?"
Scotty dipped his tea bag in the lukewarm water the waitress had brought him. "Working, just like you. I needed a job. Dad suggested I work for you guys doing the accounting and investigating. What's so strange about that?"
"I've never known you to be serious about anything."
Scotty frowned, trying to push aside the annoyance Preston's words caused. "You knew me when I was nineteen, Pres. I've changed since then."
Preston rolled his eyes. "Sure you have. For the record my name is Preston, not Pres. If you've changed so much, what was that this morning?"
"What was what?"
"The blaring rock music coming from your
Similar Books
