His Just Desserts (9 page)

Satisfied he hadn’t forgotten anything, he entered the kitchen and grabbed the backpack holding his cooking knives and the other odds and ends he’d brought with him. In a moment of weakness, he grabbed a yellow legal tablet sitting on the counter and wrote a brief note. Nothing about promising to remain in contact, but a thank you for the wonderful weekend. He might be a dick but he wasn’t a total dick. Hoisting his bag over his shoulders, he let himself out, locking the door to keep himself from saying screw it and crawling back into bed with the man who still held his heart.

“Whitcomb, the bosses want to see us in the conference room.” Donnie rapped on Sean’s office doorframe, just like he’d done two weeks before.

Setting aside the case file he’d been staring at blankly for the past hour, he shoved back from his desk. It’d been just over a week since he’d woken in his bed, sated to his toes but alone. The eight days since then had felt like a lifetime without his baby. Not only had Isaiah left without waking him, he’d also ignored all of his texts and phone calls, until in desperation he had shown up at Nonlia’s. To be told by the front of the house manager that Isaiah wasn’t scheduled to work that night.

He understood why Isaiah had left, but it still pissed him off. He’d totally fucked up all those years ago, but he’d tried to make amends, to show Isaiah how sorry he was. The fact it hadn’t mattered in the end hurt. He’d given the man everything, things he’d never given another lover—everything but the words.

He squeezed his eyes shut against the sting of tears. Isaiah had snuck out like a thief in the night with nothing more than a note saying it’d been fun. For the past week, Sean had wandered around his condo after work, reliving the memories of the weekend. He saw his chef everywhere: cooking in the kitchen, cuddling on the leather couch, tormenting with him ice cream and bananas across the dining room table, and the bedroom.
Dear Lord, in there he’s everywhere. In my bed, against the wall next to the bathroom doorway, even on the fucking floor
. Isaiah had made his mark, and it pissed Sean off to no end. He wanted him back at almost any cost.

“Did you hear me? The bosses have made their decision. Get your ass in gear. Unless you don’t want to watch me accept the partnership.” Donnie’s irritating voice set his teeth on edge.

“You wish. Don’t count your chickens before they hatch, Donnie-boy.” He picked up his tablet and followed Donnie’s smug ass down the hall. At this point, the prospect of the promotion was tarnished. Yeah, it’d be great if he got it, but he’d give it up in second if it meant his chef would come back to him.

As they entered the conference room, he wasn’t surprised to see all the members of the board around the oval conference desk. Sitting down in his customary chair across from Nico, he placed his tablet on the table. Folding his hands over it, he made himself focus on the meeting.

Nico gave him a sympathetic look. The man had been supportive. Sean had spent Saturday night at his and Kell’s house, pouring out his woes over a pitcher of strong margaritas. But right now Nico was his boss—not his friend. This was work.

Surprised murmurs came from around the table. Irinia Sachse walked in, beautifully turned out in a smart linen pantsuit. He rose to acknowledge her, manners drilled into his head by Mrs. G. never far from the surface. A smile tugging at Irinia’s mouth, she slipped into the vacant chair next to him. “Do sit, Sean, dear. I’m here today on a business matter.”

He nodded, returning to his seat. Dhanajit began to speak from the head of the table. “I know that both Sean and Donnie are expecting an announcement of who is going to be offered the partnership, but the board is still deliberating on that matter. We’ve called you here because of a new and exciting prospective client. One of the premier physicians’ conglomerates in West Des Moines is looking for new legal representation. At the moment they are represented by our biggest competitors, and I don’t have to tell you what it would mean to SG&F. if we managed to gain their account. My wife is here today in her position as their secretary of the board. They’ve asked her to speak with us about the possibility of preparing a presentation for them. She can give you some idea of what they are looking for in a law firm.”

His ears perked up. He loved a challenge. Maybe this was what he needed to get him out of his funk over Isaiah. When Irinia stood and launched into basic background information about the conglomerate, with Dhanajit continuing to interject about the potential rewards of securing the client, Sean took notes, sketching out a plan of attack. He could call Erik, one of his golfing buddies who happened to be a pediatrician—and also a member of the group—and see about having brunch. Sure, it was good that Irinia was here, but she was at the top of the food chain. He would need an inside take on what the individual members wanted and needed. He could pick Erik’s brain for that.

“Excuse me, Mr. Sachse.” The nervous voice of Nico’s secretary in the doorway had every head in the room turning toward her. “I’m sorry to interrupt the meeting, but I have an urgent message for Donnie.”

“Of course. By all means.” Dhanajit tilted his head.

Scurrying into the room, she passed him a pink slip. Donnie read it, then placed it in the front pocket of his coat.

“Is everything all right?” Dhanajit asked.

“Nothing my wife can’t handle. So let’s get back to the profit ratio on their wills and estate management. If we can undercut Rinderson and Jones in this area, we may prove to be the better company to take care of their legal matters. While a doctors’ primary concern is malpractice, the second largest legal need by physicians is the same as every other well-to-do person: protecting their family when the worst happens.”

Sean barely caught the look of disgust on Nico’s face before his boss schooled his features. Why would Donnie’s suggestion cause that reaction? The man had a solid line of thinking, and one he’d have broached, if the other man hadn’t. It was the most obvious personal need aside from setting up college funds for children and retirement services. He pushed the thoughts of his boss’s odd expression out of his mind and joined the discussion of what would be the best plan of attack.

After several minutes of discussing each of his and Donnie’s plans, it came time for Dhanajiti, Nico, and Tlotzin to decide who they wanted as point man for the team. As Donnie opened his mouth, the meeting was interrupted again by a brisk knock. Archer Bernäuser, his own associate, appeared in the doorway. “Mr. Whitcomb. I’m sorry to disrupt your meeting.” The slender man pushed up his glasses then held out a similar pink slip. “Naima asked me to drop this off to you. Said it was urgent.”

He gave the young man a reassuring nod and took the message. “Then I’m sure it is. Thank you, Archer.”

When Archer slipped out of the room, Donnie pushed for the meeting to resume. “So who do you want at point, Dhanajit? Ego aside, I think my plan is stronger than Whitcomb’s. Not to mention, I happen to have a friend over at Rinderson and Jones who may be able to tell me why the conglomerate is unhappy with their current representation.”

While Donnie continued to grandstand to the partners, Sean opened the message slip. Scanning its contents, his heart leapt. Isaiah had nearly cut his finger off at work, and the fool refused to go to the hospital. Berta, his roomie, wanted to know if he could come down and talk some sense into him. He weighed his options. He could stay and try to further his career or drive across town to talk some sense into his foolish chef. Isaiah could end his career because he brushed such a serious injury off. It wasn’t much of a choice.

Standing, he cleared his throat. “I’m sorry to interrupt Donnie, but I’m afraid I need to leave. Something has come up that I have to attend to.” He focused on Dhanajit and Irinia, who had moved to the head of the table. “Please forgive me, Mrs. Sachse. Both Donnie’s and my plans have real merit, but I don’t have the time at this moment to talk you into using mine. I trust your decision will be fair, but I’m needed across town due to a family emergency. Please let me know if you’d like me as point person.”

Not bothering to wait, he scooped up his tablet and left the conference room, the smug look on Donnie’s face the last thing he saw. Jogging down the hall, he ducked into his office for his keys and jacket then headed toward the elevators. Despite feeling frantic about his chef’s accident, the weight that had been holding him down all week was gone. At this moment, he could care less if Donnie got point on the project or not. Berta’s message gave him a way back into Isaiah’s life. “And after I haul his tight black ass to the doctor’s, he and I are going to talk.”

“Excuse me?” Naima asked as he passed through reception. She pulled her headset away from her ear and looked at him expectantly.

“It was nothing, Naima.” He gave her a quick grin, explaining in a rush. “But if you could reschedule my appointments for the rest of the day, I’ll con Isaiah into making another batch of
kolaches
. Thanks!” He ran to catch the elevator. He was a man on a mission.

***

“Chef?” Ros called across the kitchen. “We need more apples. I can’t make the
zemlovka
without them, and I have less than a half a bushel left.”

Isaiah rubbed his palm over his face. He mentally reviewed his last order to their supplier.
Potatoes, green beans, mushrooms, sugar, flour, and yeast
…. He reached for his smart phone, and pulled up the inventory request. Scrolling down with his left hand was awkward, but his right still throbbed. Pushing the pain away, he prayed he hadn’t forgotten the apples. He’d already fucked up one meat supply order this week because his brain wasn’t in the game. In fact, if it hadn’t been for his promise not to touch any sharp objects, he wouldn’t be in the kitchen. Kaeli was being a hardass about him aggravating his injury.

If he didn’t get his head out of his ass, though, he wouldn’t have a job. At least that’s what she had told him on Saturday, when she sent him home after he damned near removed several of his fingers at the knuckles while carving a roast.
After my trip to the hospital for sixteen stitches. All because I couldn’t keep my mind off that damned lawyer
.

He wanted to growl in frustration as he got to the end of the list and still hadn’t found the requested items. “Did you tell me you needed more apples, Ros?” Half a bushel would only get them through the night. Scrolling back up, he finally found it. Elation filled him. “Yep, two bushels of apples. Red delicious….” His good spirits died a sudden death. He’d ordered the wrong ones. Ros made Nonlia’s famous apple bread pudding with McIntosh. Reds were horrible for baking. “Son of a bitch.”

“You rang, baby?” Sean’s voice filled his ear, then he found himself hoisted over a broad shoulder in a fireman’s lift. Stunned, he realized that Sean was carrying him through the dining room and out into the street.

Straightening his arms, he pushed off Sean’s suit-covered back so he could see where they were going. “What the hell do you thinking you’re doing? Put my ass down. I’m not some damsel in distress you can cart off because you feel the need.” He tried to ignore the spicy scent of cologne, but couldn’t overlook its predictable effect on his body.

“Not happening until I take your ass to the hospital to have that hand looked at.” Sean kept one arm over the back of his legs. The beep of the car unlocking filled the air. Then Sean unceremoniously dumped him into the passenger seat. Isaiah moved to get out of the car, but Sean buckled him in. “Don’t think about undoing it.” Then he brushed a kiss across Isaiah’s lips and shut the passenger door.

“Oh hell no, he didn’t.” While he fumbled with the seat belt, Sean slid into the driver’s seat. Isaiah glared at him. “Give me one reason why I shouldn’t punch you square in the mouth, Whitcomb.”

Sean smiled, his entire face lighting up. “Because even if you do, I’m still gonna take your stubborn ass to the hospital, but there will be consequences after the doc patches you up.” Sean leaned in and flicked his tongue over Isaiah’s lower lip.

A low moan slipped from him. Taking Sean’s mouth, he forgot why he shouldn’t be doing this and poured every ounce of his need into the kiss. As their tongues rubbed over one another, Isaiah buried his good hand in the curls at the base of his counselor’s neck and immersed himself in his lover’s taste. When he reached down to explore the wide expanse of Sean’s chest with his right hand, dull pain from his injured fingers shot up his arm. Jerking back, he swore softly, both in pain and frustration, at his easy submission when it came to the man sitting next to him.

Sean’s blue eyes looked worried. “Damn, I’m sorry, Isaiah. I forgot all about your injury.” He raked his fingers through his hair, turning back to the wheel. Shoving the keys into the ignition, he started the car. “Which hospital, baby? Mercy or Broadlawns?”

Isaiah stared at him, dumbfounded. “What do you mean, which hospital?”

Sean wanted to roll his eyes. Some things never changed. Even as a kid, Isaiah would scream bloody hell if he caught sight of Mrs. G carrying a bottle of peroxide, let alone a Band-Aid. “Yeah, and don’t give me that shit you’ve been giving Berta about not going. Your hands are the way you make your living. I’m not about to let you throw your career away because you’re being a stubborn ass.” He glared, ignoring Isaiah’s kiss-swollen lips.

Crossing his arms over his chest, Isaiah arched a brow at him, settling back into his seat. “What the hell are you talking about, Whitcomb? I’ve already been to the hospital. Berta nagged me enough that I went on Saturday.”

His mind whirled. If Isaiah had already been to the hospital…. “Then why the hell did I get a message from her today asking me to talk some sense into you?”

Isaiah shrugged. “I have no idea. Either way you shouldn’t have come here, let alone dragged me out like some kind of Neanderthal. I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself.”