Knave of Broken Hearts (9 page)

“Today?” She wet her lips.

“Uh, I’m meeting with the architect today. About your project, actually.”

“Tomorrow, then.”

“Okay, tomorrow.”

She handed him a key. “Check the suite soon. I’ll be back to pick up the key before lunch. I need to let in the new tenant.”

“Okay.” He felt light-headed.

K
EN
SAT
in the chair beside the planter in the lobby and stared at the plastic sheeting covering the suite where Jim Carney said he was working. He glanced at his watch. How weird was it that he was here early? He of the “keep ’em panting” philosophy. Of course, this was just business.
Umm, what kind of business would that be exactly? What the hell do I care about architecture and tenant improvements?
He breathed.
I’m keeping my patient alive by reducing his stress. There, that’s an excellent story.

The elevator door opened and the man himself stepped off in all his blue-collar glory—tall, though not as tall as Ken, shaggy hair that looked like someone had streaked his light brown with blond, brilliant green eyes that crinkled when he laughed, and hard muscles everywhere from all that delicious hammer swinging. Jim was walking next to a very pretty young guy.

Jim looked over at him and stopped in his tracks. His Adam’s apple bounced, and then he painted on a smile and walked toward Ken with the cute guy beside him. “Hey, hi. Hope I’m not late.” He stuck out his hand and Ken took it, feeling the calluses all the way down his own arm. Ken eyed the boy. Jim held on a second too long, then pulled his hand back. “Dr. Tanaka, this is my kid brother, Ian.”

Brother.
Feeling relieved was so damned stupid he wanted to kick his own ass, but he felt the smile spreading. “Hi, Ian. I’m Ken.”

Jim nodded. “Uh, yeah, Ken.”

Ken really looked at Ian. “I see the family resemblance.” His light-haired prettiness strongly resembled Jim, minus a broken nose, work-hardened body, and general air of—what?—ennui, disappointment. No, actually Jim’s blanket of world-weariness covered a spring flower of hope. That was one of the things Ken liked about him. One of them. “Can you join us for lunch, Ian?”

The kid shook his head. “Wish I could, but I’ve got a bunch of Mexican food to clear off plates.” He grinned. “It’s my job. Take good care of my brother, though.”

Jim held up a hand. “I’ve gotta do a quick check-in with my guys, then I’m all yours.” He stopped, blushed, looked at his shoes. “I’ll be ready in a second.” He turned and ran toward the plastic entrance to the suite.

Ken watched the muscles in Jim’s powerful back flex as he moved away.
Damn. Beautiful.

“You like my brother.”

It wasn’t a question. “I don’t know him at all. We just met yesterday. But yes, he seems like a good guy.”

“You know he’s straight, right?”

Ken frowned. “I assumed so.”

“But maybe you wish he wasn’t?”

Ken turned and looked Ian in the eye. “Do you imagine I have to sit around pining over straight men I can’t have?”

That obviously threw the cocky kid off a bit. He glanced away and his cheeks turned pink. “No.”

“So assume my intentions are honorable. I’m helping your brother find an architect. End of story.”

“Okay. I believe you.”

If only I did.

“Thanks for helping him out. Maybe I’ll see you again.”

Ken nodded. “I’ll look forward to it.” He shook Ian’s offered hand, then watched him sprint to the lobby doors and exit into the sunny afternoon.

Voices floated over from the entrance to the suite, and Ken looked up as Jim walked back through the plastic sheeting with an attractive woman clinging to his arm. The building owner, Constance Murch. Jim stopped and smiled down at her while she batted her eyelashes. Ken could hear her say something about “looking forward to tomorrow.”

Suddenly his head felt hot and light. He stared at Constance. At reality. Just like Ian said. Had he gotten an impression that Jim Carney was somehow available? Interested? Who the fuck was he kidding? He hadn’t been lying when he said all the good men were straight. Constance touched Jim’s cheek proprietarily, then turned on her spike heel and walked to the elevator.

Jim hurried toward Ken with a smile. A smile that lingered from the woman’s sensual touch.

J
IM
GRINNED
at Ken. Hard not to smile when you looked at something that beautiful. Weird that he thought of a guy that way, but the resemblance to the yaoi character messed with his head. “Sorry to keep you waiting. I had to return a key to the building owner.”

“Yes, she certainly has an air of ownership.” Ken raised a brow, and his pretty voice had an edge. Was he upset about waiting?

“Uh, is your architect going to meet us?”

“Yes, more’s the pity. But hopefully he’ll solve your problem.”

“Sorry to put you out.”

Tanaka waved a graceful hand. “It’s nothing. Let’s get going. We’re meeting him at my club. It’s just down the street.” He took off walking across the lobby, then set a fast pace up the sidewalk. Jim had to scamper to keep up. Maybe this really was putting the doctor out. He’d been so insistent last night.

As they got closer, Jim paused and stared at the discreet granite building tucked back in the trees.
Well, damn.
Tanaka must have realized he was alone, because he slowed and looked back. “Something wrong?”

Jim swallowed. “I, uh, didn’t know where we were going for lunch.”

“It’s the Pacific Crest Club.”

“I know.”

“Is that a problem?”

He didn’t want to say it was only a problem if he saw his fucking father. “No. I just know some people who are members here.”

Tanaka nodded. “Yes, one of them is me.”

Jim looked down at his jeans and T-shirt. “I’m not really dressed for it.”

“It’s okay. They’ve gone casual at lunch.”

Pacific Crest was never casual enough for him. “Okay.” He’d been looking forward to this lunch. Now, not so much.

Walking past the doorman, Tanaka led them through the quiet low-key lobby to the restaurant Jim remembered from Sunday lunches with his family. The restaurant was all dark wood and pictures of yachts and sailing ships and crap. He’d always thought it tried awfully hard to be some kind of old-world club and missed—but his father loved the place. The host in the restaurant smiled and greeted Ken by name, barely frowned at Jim, and walked them back to a table where a man was sitting. Pretty as a picture in a men’s fashion magazine, just like in the parking lot at the wedding. Jim controlled his grin at the memory.

The guy stood and stared at Ken. “Damn, even in one day, I forget how beautiful you are.”

Ken shook his head. “You should have your memory checked, darling.” The two men kissed the air next to each other’s cheeks—very European. Ken stepped back. “Gene, this is Jim Carney, the guy I told you about. Jim, Gene Willings.”

Gene extended his hand but looked at Jim with slightly narrowed eyes. “So you two are—friends?”

Willings’s hand felt like silk next to his rough paw. Jim shook quickly. No use scraping the guy’s skin. “Uh, we kind of just met.”

Ken sat across from Gene and beside Jim. “I told you, Jim is my patient.”

“Seems odd that Ken would go to so much effort for someone he barely knows.”

Ken’s arched brows drew together. “I’m Mother fucking Teresa.” He looked around the intimate room. “How do I get some iced tea?”

“You ought to know, darling. It’s your club.”

A waiter must have seen the frown and whisked over to fill Ken’s glass with tea and ice. Jim’s as well. Ken gave him that brilliant smile. He seemed to reserve his annoyance for Gene—and Jim. He sipped. “I’m sure it will be your club soon.”

Jim stared around at the crisp white tablecloths and crisp white guests. “This club is pretty conservative.”

“Are you surprised they’d accept me as a member?”

He looked at Ken. “No, I’m surprised you’d want to be a member.”

Ken held his eyes for a moment, then smiled. “Thank you. Actually, there are a lot of physicians in this club. When I started my practice, becoming a member here was a sure way to get referrals and support. I’ll admit it was calculating, but I put on my best suit and my best smile and worked to become one of their token minorities. They had no idea just how much of a minority I am.” He laughed. “I’m even on the board. A fox in the hen house.” He smiled. “Or more appropriately, the other way around.”

Jim had to smile. Wonder if his father knew he had a gay board member?

“I’ve even sneaked in a few, shall we say, like-minded members.” He grinned. “The membership committee is considering Gene right now.”

Jim turned to Gene. “So you’re an architect.”

“Yes. With a license and everything.”

Tanaka hadn’t lied about the pain in the ass part. “I don’t know if you have any desire to help with a tenant improvement project, but I need an architect to draw up some plans—fast.” He pulled Ian’s sketch out of his pocket. “This is the rough idea of what we want.”

Gene looked at the sketch. “This isn’t much to go on, and it’s not an easy plan to draw.”

Hell, this guy was too much trouble. “So you can’t do it? No problem.” He pulled the drawing back, folded it, and reached for his pocket.

Willings grabbed his hand. “I didn’t say that. Actually, it’s a clever idea. But I’d have to send someone from my staff to see and measure the space.” He sat back. “I don’t do the smaller projects personally.”

Jim shrugged. “I don’t care as long as you sign the drawings. I know how to build it.”

“You’re pretty sure of yourself.”

Far from it, but he’d never tell this asshole. “It’s what I do.”

Willings stared at him like he was guessing his weight. “All right, I’ll do it. I told Ken I would and I will.”

“Don’t bother if it’s too much trouble. I wouldn’t want Ken to be obligated to you on my account.” He glanced at Ken, who had a slightly raised eyebrow and a half smile.

The waiter took advantage of a slight break in the action to collect their orders. For the next hour, Jim managed a few bites of a Reuben sandwich and wished he could get back to the job site. Ken and Gene alternately snarked at each other and gazed into each other’s eyes, which whiplashed Jim between jealousy and embarrassment, both of which were stupid. Jesus, they should fight or fuck and get it over with.

Ken asked for the check, and Jim tried to wrap it up with Willings. “When can you have this guy from your office come to the suites?”

“When do you want him?”

“Later today?”

“I suppose I can arrange that.”

“Good. He can meet me in the suite off the lobby that’s being renovated. Tell him—”

“Mr. Carney? James? Is that you?”

Jim looked up at an older Hispanic man dressed in the dark pants and white shirt of a waiter.
Son of a bitch.
“Hi, Manuel. How are you?”

“I’m well. I kept staring since you came in and thought it must be you.”

Jim ran a hand over the back of his neck. “Yeah, well, I’ve changed some.”

Manuel smiled. “The nose is different, but I’d still know you anywhere.”

Jim grinned. “I say it was a bar fight, but I actually took a hammer in the face. It didn’t heal well. Manuel, this is Ken and Gene. My friend, Manuel.”

Manuel nodded. “Of course, I know Dr. Tanaka and Mr. Willings. I hope your meal was satisfactory.”

Ken smiled. “Excellent. Thank you, Manuel.”

“Good to see you again, Jim. Don’t be so long next time.”

Jim shook Manuel’s hand. “Great to see you. Say hi to your wife and boys.”

“I will, thank you.”

As Manuel walked back to his post on the other side of the dining room, Gene said, “So how do you happen to be so palsy-walsy with a waiter from the Pacific Crest club? Is he a neighbor or something?”

Jim leveled his gaze at Gene. The guy’s words were benign, but his tone reeked of condescension.
Sick of you, buddy.
“No, he used to wait on us when I’d come here with my father.”

“Oh, who’s your father?” Ken’s voice had a growing sense of realization.

Jim pushed back his chair and stood. “Thanks so much for lunch. I’ll look for your guy in about an hour. I need to get back to my work site.” He turned and looked at Ken.
What the hell.
“My father’s Dr. James Carney, the cardiovascular surgeon.” He flicked his eyes to Willings. “You know, the chairman emeritus of the Pacific Crest Club. See you later.”

W
ELL
,
DAYUM
.
Ken watched those broad shoulders and tight ass move away from him across the dining room until Jim disappeared.

Gene leaned forward. “No wonder you’re doing him a favor.”

Ken looked back at Gene. “I didn’t know anything about his family until this minute.”

“His name
is
Jim Carney.”

“I didn’t put it together. Would you?”

“No. Who’d have thought Dr. Carney would have this hammer jockey for a son?”

“He’s a nice guy.”

“Obviously you think so.” Gene sat back, and his pretty lips pursed.

“Give it a rest. He’s straight, as you can pretty obviously tell.”

“I suppose. But a mouth is a mouth in the dark, love.”

He wished. Ken finished paying the check, kissed the air next to Gene’s smooth cheek, and headed back to the office. Weirdly, Jim Carney being the son of Dr. Carney made him less appealing. There had to be some kind of story there. But being less appealing was good, since the guy was way too attractive. When he’d taken on pissy Gene, Ken thought he’d spew iced tea all over the table. When he’d said, “I know how to build it,” Ken had to take a deep breath to control his overactive cock.
What is it about the guy?

Like some harbinger, his phone buzzed. He looked.
Well, hell.
“
Konnichiwa
, Okaa-san.”