Beneath the Palisade (6 page)

He tried to suppress a grin as he imagined Harper undressing on the second floor. The stairs must be located somewhere in the living room. And they were wooden, he deduced when he heard Harper going up.

Is he standing up there in his underwear?
Boxers or briefs… or boxer briefs. Hmmm, I vote boxers.

He was about to scold himself when he heard footsteps coming down. Reaching for his beer, he took a sip and came close to spitting it out, a reaction to Harper, who swept into the room dressed in running shorts and a T-shirt.

“How’s the ale? Are you enjoying it?” Harper examined the label of his own bottle, waiting for a response.

“Yes,” he managed to eke out, trying desperately not to choke.

Like his head, Harper’s legs and arms were shaded with black hair. He loved men with black hair. He loved how sexy black hair looked when it was wet and matted to the skin.

This dude is incredible. He’s got it all going on.

“Let’s see what you’ve got.” Harper plopped down in the side chair directly across from him. “I’m really excited.”

“Ah… okay.” He reached for his designs and flipped through them one more time to make sure they were in order before starting. “Here’s a sketch of how I envision your patio to look. I’d like to suggest you use some old street pavers. They’re not the cheapest route to go, but I think they would work great. The pavers I have in mind are well worn, with an occasional spot of street paint here and there. Lots of character.”

“I love the herringbone pattern you have shown. I’m sold! Can you get enough to do the pathways to the garage and around to the front of the house?” Harper seemed to genuinely like what he was looking at.

“Sure. You’re a step ahead of me. I was hoping you’d go for keeping the pathways and the patio consistent.”

“That was easy. What’s next?” Harper sipped his beer and smiled.

There was the slightest hint of playfulness, a challenge in his voice when he posed his question. When he looked up from his sketches and saw the goofy grin on Harper’s face, he felt his face flush for the second time, or maybe the third.

He showed Harper the design he had in mind for the arbor and described for him a few aggressive vines to cover the frame.

“You know how you’re not sure what you want until you see it? This is exactly the look I was going for. Nice work!” Harper leaned in, examining the designs.

This was going well. Ian paused for a minute and took a sip of his beer. Harper seemed impressed with his choices and easy to please. Several times as he explained the differences between this vine choice or that type of wood, their eyes locked. Those deep, dark, wonderful eyes. And he had a dazzling smile. Beautiful, bright white teeth, perfect in every way. Ian struggled to stay focused. This guy was giving his resolve a real run for its money. His self-imposed “hands off the clients” rule faced its most challenging test yet.

“You have no idea how much I’ve wanted to have the yard done over.” Harper sat back and smiled. “To know that it’s finally going to happen is really awesome. I feel so lucky to have seen your commercial.” Harper raised his bottle and sipped, never taking his eyes off Ian.

Can we talk about lucky?

“I’m glad. It’s fun to work with someone who gets into it,” he shared, because it
was
fun.
It’s hot fun!

Many of his past clients were only interested in going the cheapest route. Even though he was good at it, he hated designing around a skimpy budget. It sucked the fun right out of the process. “For the outline around the yard, I’d suggest you keep the existing fence,” he announced confidently.

“Really? It’s so ugly.”

This was the first time since they had sat down that Harper had questioned his concept. Ian was ready with his response. “Well, it won’t be when we get done hiding it with clusters of shrubs.”

Ian opened a magazine and pointed out several specimens he had in mind. “I like to do clusters of several different varieties as opposed to a straight line of one variety like you often see. Also there should be several openings in the border where you can see to the street. This design will show you where I propose to put the openings. By putting the openings here…”

Ian turned his design around so Harper could view it from his angle, and in the process, their hands touched. He reached for his beer.

I wonder if this guy has any idea at all what he’s doing to me. This is nuts. I’m so not in control.

“…by putting the openings here,” he continued after making sure his beer was headed down his throat, “your seating area, the arbor area will be hidden from the street, giving you privacy. People would have to leave the sidewalk and walk up the incline to peer over in your direction. You, on the other hand, can walk over to the openings and see down the street if you want. Is this enough privacy?”

Again their eyes locked. Harper grinned.

“What?” He chuckled out of nervousness.

“It’s perfect. I’m very happy.” Harper leaned across the table and asked, “Can I talk you into another beer?”

Can I make it through another beer? I’m turning into putty.

“Come on, one more?” Harper leaned in even closer.

The combination of his twinkling eyes and megawatt smile was impossible for Ian to resist. “Sure!” He tried to identify the vibe coming from Harper. “There’re a few more things we should cover.”

Ian sat mesmerized as Harper collected their bottles and sauntered past on the way to the kitchen. He was becoming aroused, and there wasn’t a thing he could do about it. He forced himself to try and stay on track. Shifting through his notes, he reviewed the aspects of the backyard design he’d yet to cover.

“Did you have time yet to think about a water feature?” Harper asked, this time sitting at the head of the table, close enough that his bare leg brushed for a brief second up against Ian’s.

Ian belted back a healthy swig from his new beer. Unless he was mistaken, and by this time he was pretty sure he wasn’t, Harper was coming on to him. And if it wasn’t that, it sure as hell was something.

“I’ve got two water options for you to consider.” He slid his sketches over.

Hang in there, you’re almost done.

Ian went into detail regarding the pros and cons of each feature. At one point, Harper leaned in to compare sketches and reduced the distance between them by half. Using every ounce of concentration available, Ian managed to forge ahead.

“Would you like some time to think about these? You don’t have to decide tonight.” In his haste to get through his presentation, he feared he might have rushed this last part, which seemed to be so important to his client.

“Ian, which one do you like best?” Harper sat back, folding his arms across his chest.

Those eyes, that smile. “I like… I like….” He had to clear his throat. “I like the one that originates in the far corner. It can be bigger, and bigger is usually the route to go.”

Milliseconds after his “bigger” comment, he lost his battle with composure and started to laugh. “I’m sorry—”

“No…. No problem.” Harper chuckled. “I hear ya, big is always better.” Harper held up his bottle in a toast.

“Something like that.” They clinked bottles.

“I love this. I’m on board a hundred percent with what you’re proposing. You really have a talent.”

Ian’s palms had begun to sweat. Harper moved closer to him and once again reduced the distance between them to inches. “Oh, well, thank you.” Ian felt embarrassed. He’d never learned the trick to feeling comfortable accepting a compliment. Because he was so physically attracted to Harper, he couldn’t trust what he said or how he reacted.
This isn’t good.

“I’m starving. Can you hang around for dinner? I can grill burgers or we can call for a pizza… anything works for me.”

This is your business,
he reminded himself. He couldn’t chance losing control any more than he already had. As much as he wanted to stay, in an instant he decided it was best if he didn’t. “I’d love to, but I have to pass. A friend of mine is expecting me.”

H
ARPER
waited for the jailer to slide open the door. He couldn’t say goodbye to the gunmetal grey cell block fast enough. The drab yellow visitation area felt warm and comforting in comparison. He signed out on the clipboard, stepped outside, and welcomed the sunshine.

The man he had just left was broken. So much so, it was hard for him to imagine the kind of vibrant personality Jasper Flynn had had prior to being convicted. Where was the charisma, the passion this man had once had that allowed so many smart people to have the wool pulled over their eyes? Whatever Jasper had going for him before, being incarcerated had drained it. Harper felt sad for him. Jasper was despicable, which he fully understood. But from a basic human perspective, to see a life like his destroyed was humbling.

Enough Jasper for now, he thought as he got into his car. He had a more pressing issue to contemplate. One Ian Burke, to be specific.

I bet he has a boyfriend. How could he not? A catch like that, he has to have guys after him all the time.

He pointed the car in the direction of his office while his mind raced toward Ian. Had it been a twist of fate that when he’d finally made a conscious decision to pursue a relationship, Ian had popped into the picture? He had almost forgotten what it was he found physically appealing in a man. Ian, in an instant, had brought it all back for him. From the floppy mop of brown hair on top of his boyishly handsome face to his bulging calves, he was perfection. And he came across as such a nice guy. A kind, genuine soul.

There was a tension, something in the air they seemed to share as they were going over the landscape plans. He was sure he recognized something. More than once while together, he sensed Ian was sending out an “I’m interested” vibe. And their initial meeting couldn’t be overlooked either. Setting ego aside, he knew he was considered handsome. Well, very handsome if he was being true to himself. And over the years, he had come to understand how his looks affected others. He had the ability to make those who found him appealing act nervous and flustered. It happened all the time. He’d gotten so used it, he rarely ever noticed anymore, unless, like in the case of Ian, it mattered. Ian had been very flustered on their first meeting, and that, in turn, offered him hope.

Harper parked and headed into the building. Depending on the amount of e-mails and calls he’d be required to return, he hoped to find time to revisit his research on potential clawback litigation. He was convinced if he knew the rules well enough and he could establish an element of trust, he might be able to ward off, at least for the time being, the attack that would surely be directed toward Phyllis Flynn. He found it necessary to treat this as an exercise rather than personalize it. This wasn’t about Phyllis. It was about his skills as a lawyer. He welcomed the challenge. It was unfortunate he had to waste this effort on the likes of Phyllis Flynn.

He’d only been at his desk for a few minutes when he heard a commotion in the hallway.

“For Christ’s sake, Duncan, I paid for these goddamn offices, and don’t you ever forget that. Oh, this must be the… the boy.”

Framed in his door stood Phyllis Flynn with Duncan Price panting behind her.

“May I help you?” He didn’t need to be introduced. He’d observed her uppity pouts in the courtroom during her husband’s trial and found her to be a revolting individual. Up until now, he’d been able to avoid a face-to-face meeting. Today his luck had run out.

“Callahan, how did a nice Irish boy get mixed up with these clowns? I’m Phyllis Flynn.”

“Of course you are,” he said, rising from his chair. “We spoke… very early the other morning. Duncan, how nice of you to bring Mrs. Flynn around to meet me.”

“Duncan had nothing to do with anything. I’m calling the shots here, junior.”

“In that case, please have a seat.” He gestured to one of two chairs opposite his desk. “What can I do for you?”

“Listen, you little snot,” she hissed. “Take this advice if you’re as smart as you are pretty.” Phyllis advanced a few steps forward.

He felt his right eyebrow rise in anticipation.

“If you know what’s good for you, you’d better eat, shit, and breathe my fucking finances. This is no longer about Jasper. We know how successful you were with
him
. You clowns call yourselves lawyers? You’re scum. Goddamned scum!”

“That’s enough, Phyllis. I know you’re upset, but that’s quite enough.” Duncan reached for her arm to lead her out of the office.

“Touch me like that again and I’ll flatten you.” Phyllis held her ground. Duncan retreated to the hall.

“Is there anything else, Mrs. Flynn?” Harper asked without emotion. “As I mentioned to you on the phone, I’ll do the best I can for you. I can’t imagine doing anything less. Now, you can insult me to your heart’s content if you’d like, but frankly, I’m not sure how that will benefit either of us.”

He stepped forward, understanding his body language would indicate he wasn’t at all fearful of her threats.

Phyllis seemed to defuse. Reaching into her clutch, she pulled out a hanky and wiped who knew what from her cheek.

“You protect me, you hear?” She froze her gaze on him, making his skin crawl.

“Loud and clear. Oh, and Mrs. Flynn, provided it isn’t the middle of the night, feel free to call anytime.”

“Out of my way, Duncan, you asshole!” Phyllis shoved Duncan up against the rich mahogany wall, replaced her hanky, and stormed down the hall. Several seconds passed before Duncan stepped back into his office.

“She’s a powder keg,” he said, failing miserably at a smile. “I’m sorry you had to go through that.”

“Hey, Duncan, it’s me, Harper. Skin as thick as an elephant. I’m good. Now I’d better get back to work before the day gets away from me.” He stood his ground, forcing Duncan to leave without saying another word. Behind the safety of his desk, he buried his head in his hands.
Tell me something, Harp. Is this really worth it?

W
HEN
Ian arrived at Harper’s Saturday morning, Arlan Stemple was already waiting. Typically, he avoided working Saturdays for several reasons. First and foremost, the clients were usually around, and it never failed, they almost always forced a question-and-answer session about gardening that added hours to his day. In this case, it wasn’t the client, it was Arlan. It was Arlan’s only free day in the next couple of weeks, so he was thankful he could have the digging completed so the rest of his design could unfold as planned.