Free The Dangerous Seduction by A N Bond Page A

booth.
    He avoids looking at himself in the mirror as he washes his hands in the men’s room. He runs a shaky hand through his hair, blows out a breath, and tries to calm his racing pulse. That thing that had started all those years ago on stifling-hot afternoons in his teenage bedroom with his brother’s best friend, that continued with drunken hand-jobs traded with his frat-brother Mark, that fizzled back on at least a couple ( more than a couple, Ryan ) of occasions around the back of seedy nightclubs, that thing that he pushed away and ignored and tried not to think about since he’d started dating Daisy—that thing hasn’t gone away like he always hoped. That thing is hot and alive and entirely centered around his goddamn boss.
    Joseph is waiting outside the diner by the time Ryan leaves the bathroom, and to Ryan’s surprise, he’s smoking a cigarette. He offers the pack to Ryan. “I know, it’s a filthy habit, but I’m pissed, and when I’m pissed I like a smoke. Here, have one too, make me feel less guilty.”
    Ryan huffs out a shaky laugh and accepts a cigarette. Joseph nods approvingly and holds out his lighter. He leans into the flame, feeling Joseph’s eyes boring into him as he inhales. Joseph snaps the lighter closed and pockets it.
    “So, what are we going to do now?” Ryan says as they start to walk back toward their hotel.
    Joseph gives a one-shoulder shrug and takes a drag on his cigarette. “I haven’t figured that out yet.”
     
     
    J OSEPH HAS a couple of conference calls, which he takes in the suite Estelle arranged for them, wearing out the carpet, pacing as he speaks into his Bluetooth headset. Ryan sets up his laptop, pops his iPod on, and tries to work on the briefs, but he’s distracted. Thinking about Cartwright’s face in the diner, and Joseph’s endless pacing and the rise and fall of his voice, is certainly not helping his concentration.
    Joseph finishes up his call, collapses into the huge couch, and yanks the headset off. He stretches out his legs to toe off his dress shoes, wiggling his toes when he’s done and letting his head drop back against the couch cushions.
    Ryan pulls out his earphones and looks up from his screen. “Hey, you okay?”
    “Define okay” comes Joseph’s muffled response. “I’m freaking pissed. In fact….” He jerks up from the couch, pads over to his suit jacket where it’s hanging over the back of a chair, and pulls out his pack of cigarettes. He goes out onto the balcony in just his socks.
    Ryan watches him through the french doors. Joseph is leaning over the balcony railing, arms folded, cigarette smoking between two fingers, as he stares down at the city below. He looks like one of those black-and-white images of a 1950s movie star, all distant, moody glamour and bad-boy attitude. Ryan watches him raise his hand to run it through his hair, then to tug at his collar and tie, loosening the knot and fiddling with the top button of his shirt. He looks frustrated and tired and irritable, and Ryan has the overwhelming urge to go out there and tell him it’s okay, they’ll figure it out, they’ll win this.
    He’s sure that they will win eventually; he has no doubt about that. Joseph always wins. He built his reputation on it. He’s only thirty-four and he’s already got a bunch of awards from various prestigious organizations. He wishes they could jump forward in time, to the moment after the judge has ruled the case in their favor, to the photo opportunity on the front steps of the courthouse, Joseph posing with their clients with an enormous, shit-eating grin on his face.
    Joseph finishes his cigarette and comes back inside. “I want a drink. Do you want a drink? Let’s go get a drink.”
    Joseph picks a seedy-looking bar with beers and onion rings and pool tables. It’s the kind of place Ryan would never have expected to see him in, but Joseph breezes in like he’s completely at home there. He takes a seat at one of the tables and