Knave of Broken Hearts (10 page)

“Are you well, my son?”

“Yes, ma’am. I just had lunch and am going back to work.”

“I’m pleased to hear you have eaten. Did you eat well?”

No way he’d say that between lusting after Jim and wanting to kill Gene, he’d barely gotten half a salad down. “Yes, I went to my club.”

“That is very good. And you have called Mikio for a date?”

Blindsided. “Uh, no. I’ve been very busy.”

“This is important, Kenji. You must do this for me.”

For me.
There were the magic words that ripped him down to a five-year-old desperate for his mother to love him as much as she loved his brother. “Yes, Mother. I’ll call him soon.”

“Today.”

He sighed quietly. “Today.”

“Thank you, my son. You’ve made me very happy. Have a good day.”

“Thank you, Okaa-san.” He clicked off the phone. He knew why he liked Jim Carney so much. Shit, the guy had all the guts Ken didn’t.

He reached for his cell phone and scrolled until he reached Okuwa. Maybe if he just asked Mickey to lunch, he’d satisfy his promise and get the kid out of his life. Besides, he needed something to help him stop thinking about Jim Carney.

J
IM
HAD
been working for an hour, wiring new electrical in preparation for the redesign, when the plastic pushed away and Gene Willings himself walked into the suite with a cute young guy beside him. Jim pretty much wanted to smack him upside the head after the performance at lunch.
Be nice. He can save your ass.
“Hi. Thanks for coming.”

Gene assumed a serious face. “You said it was important so I wanted to check it out.” He motioned idly to the guy. “This is Rico. He’ll be measuring.”

Jim stuck out a hand, and Rico smiled and shook it. The guy had dark brown hair and wide eyes in a really attractive face. Jim pointed to the suite. “We have measurements on this place we can give you.” He walked over to the plans Billy had left him. Rico followed him and looked at the drawings. Jim pulled the sketch from his pocket. “The owner wants something more like this approach built in the eighth-floor suite.”

Rico nodded. “I like this. It’s more original.”

“Uh, yeah, a consultant of mine came up with it, but he’s not licensed—” Jim glanced at Willings. “—in this state so he can’t do the drawings.”

“I can use this as a starting place and come up with some plans.”

“That would be great. You’ll need to measure that space. It’s similar to this one, but not identical.”

Willings nodded. “Ah well, I’ll leave you to it, then.”

Jim turned to him. “I really appreciate you helping with this.”

He smiled. “You can always feel free to mention my help to your father. I’m trying to get into the Pacific Crest Club.”

Knew that was coming.
“Sorry. My father and I are estranged. I never see him, and a good word from me would be bad for you.”

The smile snapped off Willings’s face. “I see.”

“If you want to change your mind about helping me out, just say so.”

“No. I told Ken I’d help.” His eyes narrowed. “And he and I are such good friends, I’d never want to disappoint him.”

“I appreciate that.”

Willings turned on his heel and left.

“Sorry.” Rico smiled up at Jim. Must be tough on Rico working for Willings. The guy pointed at the drawing. “Don’t worry, I’ll do a good job for you. This approach is really my aesthetic, so I’ll enjoy putting my spin on it.”

This guy he liked. Jim looked at his watch. “As long as I get some plans fast with an architect’s signature on them, I’m good. Come on. I’ll show you the suite. I may have to leave you, since I have this medical test I have to take for insurance.”

“No problems.” Rico grinned a bright, toothy smile complete with dimples. “I won’t steal the silverware.”

After forty-five minutes, during which he felt like he’d lucked out getting Rico to do his plans, Jim left the guy measuring and hopped the elevator down to the suite number Dr. Tanaka’s office had given him. Man, who’d have thought he had something wrong with his heart? His own father hadn’t found it. Or maybe he just never told him.

After a short wait, a woman in a lab coat came out. “Hi, I’m Marsha. I’ll be doing your exam.”

“Okay.” She looked like a nice lady. Not too scary.

She led him into a room with a lot of equipment. He pulled off his shirt as requested, and she laid him on the table and hooked him up to some more electrodes. “They already did an EKG on me.”

“Yes, we do one to correlate with the echocardiogram. Nothing to worry about.’

He wasn’t worried—exactly. “I feel like Frankenman.”

“No, you’re the monster and I’m Dr. Frankenstein, right?” She smiled. Then, as advertised, she pumped some cold, sticky stuff on his chest and pulled out a lightsaber and started running it around in the gel.
Woosh, woosh, woosh.
The sound of his heart echoed through the room. He chuckled, and she smiled.

A voice came through the partly open door. “It sounds like you’re having altogether too much fun in here.”

Oh man, he’d know that tenor anywhere. He glanced over at Ken standing by the door to the room, looking very doctory in his white lab coat with his floppy hair tamed back on his head. “Hi, Doc.”

“Hey, Jim. I don’t mean to intrude, Marsha. Do you mind if I observe?”

She flashed exactly the kind of sappy smile that question was designed to get. “Of course not, Dr. Tanaka. Please do.”

With a gentle shove, she pushed Jim onto his left side, which meant he faced Ken directly. The
woosh
ing sound got stronger.

Marsha said, “Don’t worry. It’s normal for the heart rate to increase in this position.” Did that mean on his side or staring at Ken Tanaka? Jesus, why did the man have to look like a fantasy? Those lips couldn’t be real. Marsha pressed the wand thing harder against his sternum. He pulled back a little. “Sorry, I know it can be uncomfortable. I need extra pressure to be sure I get accurate results.”

Ken stepped closer. “Can I take over for a minute?”

“Of course.”

The wand was removed from Jim’s chest as Ken stepped out of his field of vision. Then a gloved hand that still managed to be very silky took hold of Jim’s shoulder, and the wand was reapplied to the area around his heart.
Thump, woosh, thump, woosh.

The pressure of the wand was just as hard as the woman had done it, maybe harder, but that gentle hand on his shoulder somehow made it less—and more.
Thump, thump, woosh, woosh.
Ken leaned over and murmured, “You’re doing fine.”
Fine. Oh yes, fine.

The wand traveled across his skin, both warm and cool, but Jim’s whole brain focused on the hand still holding his shoulder with those long fingers stretched out just an inch from his right nipple. Jesus, was his heart speeding up?

He wasn’t sure about his heart, but his cock sure as hell wanted to be examined. He shifted his hips. Ken’s hand grasped more firmly. “Just a bit more now.”

More?
Good Lord, his wood was turning into a log and he didn’t have anything to hide it. His kingdom for a paper dress!

The wand traveled over his throat, and the hand slipped lower.
Lower. Just a little more—shit.
He softly gasped as Ken’s fingers found his nub. Did Ken notice? Hopefully he didn’t hear, what with all the
thump
ing and
woosh
ing.

Why the hell am I reacting to a guy?
Pretty sure Dr. Haselbaum could have sucked my dick and I wouldn’t have felt horny.

But Ken’s fingers didn’t slip back. Instead, the wand kept exploring, and the finger of Ken’s left hand moved just a little across Jim’s most sensitive spot—well, at least the most sensitive on his chest. It moved a little more. Jim held his breath. That finger gently rotated on his hard-as-a-diamond nipple. Round and round, every circle sending shots of electricity to Jim’s cock until the thing throbbed like a wild animal. It couldn’t be an accident, could it? Was Ken doing this on purpose? Maybe he didn’t realize what his hand was up to? Oh God, why did Jim want to flip on his back and guide Ken’s hand to his cock? One more circle and he’d come. How the hell was he going to explain that? “Uh, I think—”

“Just a little more.”

Oh hell, he knew what kind of more he wanted.

Thump, woosh, thump, thump, thump.

“Doctor, I think we have enough.” Marsha sounded neutral. Did she notice? Crap, who wouldn’t notice the anaconda trying to escape his jeans?

“Yes.” Ken’s thumb slid across Jim’s nipple one more time, sending Jim’s dick into a spasm of need.

The wand came off his chest, the
thump
ing stopped, and all Jim could hear was his own panting.

“You can put your shirt on, Jim. Here’s something to wipe off the gel.” Marsha handed him a bundle of not very soft paper. Not soft like Ken Tanaka’s hand. Jim grabbed the paper and stuck it in front of his crotch as he rolled onto his back and sat up fast before the leaning tower of Carney could take over the room. He heard Ken say, “Thank you for letting me participate. You’ll have the results back to me tomorrow?”

“Yes, Doctor.”

The door clicked closed.

Gone. The source of his torture just up and left. Jim finished wiping off the gel. It made him think of other sticky substances he could find on his chest.
Jesus, one-track mind.
As he slipped on his shirt, Marsha said, “You’re really lucky. The doctor never does the echoes himself.”

“Yeah?” Why the fuck did that make him smile?

F
IFTEEN
MINUTES
later Jim walked out of the building to his truck, having been assured by Marsha that she’d have the report to the doctor tomorrow. The doctor. That meant he had to see Ken Tanaka again. How awkward would that be?

He headed down the freeway south toward home. Maybe Ken didn’t even know he did it. Maybe his fingers accidentally found the nipples of guys because it just seemed normal or something?
Yeah, right.
Obviously Ken knew what he was doing, and he also knew he had to see Jim the next day, so he must not think it was going to be awkward. But maybe that wasn’t the right question. Maybe he should be asking, why had his dick taken off like a skyrocket because some guy flicked his tit? If he hadn’t gasped when Ken touched him, would the doc have gone so far? And now that he had done what he did, what did that imply to Ken? Did he think Jim was gay and ready to fuck him? Hell, he needed advice. Fortunately he knew right where to get it.

He pulled into the parking lot of his apartment. How would he go about this? No idea. Hopefully, Ian would give him an opening. When Jim walked into the apartment, Anderson leaped out from under a chair like the mighty half-pound hunter. Jim reached down and picked up the fur ball. Seemed like the critter was staying, so might as well make friends. He held the cat in one hand and scratched under its chin with a finger. “Hey guy, where’s your daddy?” Okay, that sounded weird. “Brother?” That made Anderson Jim’s sibling. “Where’s Ian?” Unfortunately no delicious smells announced Ian’s whereabouts.

The door to the tiny second bedroom opened and Ian’s wet head popped out. “Hi. I just got home. I smelled too much like tacos to be fit for company, so I took a shower.”

“How about we go out to dinner—no tacos. We’ll take two cars, and then you can drop your car off at your parents.”

Ian stepped out of the room wearing a towel over his ultra-lean body. “They’re your parents too.”

“Not so you’d notice.”

He leaned against the wall. “It’s weird. I knew they hated anything gay, but it never crossed my mind they’d throw me out.”

“You figured they’d rise to the challenge and support you—like any real parent would, right?”

“Yeah, I guess so.”

“They missed a chance to impress the hell out of both of us.” He hugged Ian’s neck. “Nice to have each other.”

“Yeah. I don’t know what I’d have done if you didn’t let me in.”

“A. You’re damned resourceful and you would have thought of something. B. No way I’d leave you out in the cold.”

Ian gave a slight turn of the lips. “I’m really glad you’re my brother.”

Well, that made his day. “Likewise.”

“How’d the day go? With the architect and all.”

“Get dressed and I’ll tell you over dinner.”

After a mew of protest from Anderson and twenty minutes of dressing, Jim pulled into a glorified coffee shop that he liked because it had good, big burgers at low prices. He searched for a booth in the back and away from the other diners. All the better to talk about sensitive subjects. They ordered and settled back with Cokes. Ken’s beautiful face telling him that eating a good diet was sensible floated through his tangled brain.
Fuck that.
He’d shelved drinking. Damned if he’d give up food he liked.
What about your heart?
He sighed.

Ian sipped. “So tell me about the architect.”

“He’s a royal pain in the ass.”

“Oh no. So you’re back where you started.”

“No. I think the dude wanted to impress Ken Tanaka so bad, he sent somebody from his office to do the drawings, and I think the guy’s really good. He loved your sketch.”

“Obviously a guy of supreme good taste.” Ian grinned. “I think Tanaka has a thing for you.”

His heart skipped. “Why do you say that?”

“He looks at you like sushi and yes, the cultural reference is intended.” He shrugged. “But he denies it, and I will admit he doesn’t look like a guy who needs to chase straight men. I mean, seriously, that dude is gorgeous.”

“What do you mean ‘denies it’? What the hell did you say?”

“I just kind of asked him if he was interested in you. Said you were straight. He said he knew that and asked if he looked like he had to chase straight guys.”

Well, fuck, he felt too many ways about all that to sort through. The fact that disappointed was one of the feelings gave him the willies. He cleared his throat. “So you think he’s gorgeous?”