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ake was new to that particular part of town, despite it only being a two-minute walk from his office. He’d arrived fifteen minutes early for his appointment to show an office to a potential tenant, and he’d walked a couple of blocks to check out the food and coffee options. Aside from the specifics of the tenancy, where they could get good coffee was always the first question people asked. What the food options were was the second. This bustling street seemed to have it all, especially the good coffee. The aroma wafting from Grounds, the coffee shop two doors down, was heavenly. It was as if perfectly roasted beans had soaked into the very essence of the building, calling to him at a base level and every connoisseur in the area.
The young accountant who’d decided to strike out on her own was off considering the information Jake had provided to her. He was following his nose. Pushing through the door to Grounds, Jake was greeted by the buzz of conversation, the hiss of the coffee machine steaming milk, the click of keyboards, and the scratching of pencil on paper. He looked around, seeing an eclectic mix of patrons, some in school uniforms with textbooks piled around them, working during their free period, others in casual clothes typing away on laptops, businesspeople chatting around small tables, and what looked to be a parents’ group with a mix of men and women cradling babies. The furniture was mismatched, the walls painted in rich coral, emerald green, and deep blue, and the interior designed so that each table was tucked into its own space. High-backed chairs, walls of greenery cascading from hanging pots, and strategically placed timber privacy screens gave the large, industrial space a sense of warmth and homeliness. The polished floors were scuffed, and the bookshelves dotted throughout overfilled. Both gave Grounds an unmistakable charm that Jake loved instantly.
The man he’d followed in led the way to the counter and huffed when he had to wait to be served. Jake rolled his eyes and fished his phone out of his pocket, considering whether he had time to sit down or get a takeaway.
Less than a minute later, he heard a throat clear and looked up into the most striking hazel eyes he’d ever seen. Kind but sharp and inquisitive, they pinned him. Unable to move, unable to breathe, Jake took the man in. Scruffy jet-black hair parted on one side and flopped in front of his eyes. He had a perfect jawline with a smattering of dark stubble and bronze skin. Jake swallowed. He opened his mouth. No words formed. He closed it again. His brain had shut down. Blue screened with a fatal error.
“What would you like?” The man’s bedroom voice, all deep and husky, rolled over him, and Jake sucked in a breath. His heart pounded in a staccato rhythm.Fuck me.Awareness prickled through him, his skin tingling. He shivered. Jake fought his body’s reaction, begging his cock to stay down. His reaction was visceral, so powerful it knocked him for six. He hadn’t experienced such an immediate and all-consuming attraction before, except with Cassidy. But it was different with her. He loved poking the bear and watching her roar. The night they’d hooked up the first time, she’d all but dragged him out the door, barely giving him a moment to tuck himself in and slip his jacket off to hide the mess he’d made of the front of his pants. They’d tumbled into bed and passed out a few hours and rounds later.
“Buddy? You need some more time?”
Jake blinked, being torn back to reality and the attraction fizzling in his veins for the man before him. He’d gotten completely side-tracked, his imagination going at warp speed to triple X-rated. Best of all, he hadn’t said a word, just stared like a creep.
“Ah, sorry. Um, just um, what the guy before me had.” What was he saying? Jake ordered one thing and one thing only—espressos.
“You want what the guy before you had? A large almond cappuccino with an extra shot, a second extra shot, a drizzle of vanilla, extra chocolate on top, sweetened with honey, and a shot of caramel flavoured almond milk froth on the side?” Jake didn’t register a single word the man said. He watched those perfect lips pronounce every syllable and that sexy-as-sin eyebrow lift, and he was gone. Utterly lost in his eyes. He found himself nodding, just wanting the man to keep talking. But instead, he nodded once, pressed a few buttons on the touchscreen in front of him, then tapped a long finger on the white card reader sitting on the countertop. Jake absentmindedly paid, unable to break the man’s gaze. “What’s your name?” When he opened his mouth, nothing came out again, but the Adonis smiled patiently, and Jake could almost see the eye roll in the tilt of his lips, and added, “It’s okay. We’ll just read out your order.”
He nodded and stepped to the side, heat crawling up his throat to his cheeks. Jake pressed his clammy hands to them, trying to will away the embarrassment of becoming so completely tongue-tied. He shifted his jacket in front of his groin and adjusted his hard-as-nails cock in his pants. There was no way anyone would miss the thing sticking out at an awkward angle if they looked. As subtly as possible, Jake eyed the counter, his gaze settling on the other man.
When he wasn’t a deer in headlights, ensnared by those eyes, Jake could let his own wander. Taller than Jake by a good few inches, he wore a black T-shirt that clung to broad shoulders all the way down to a slim waist. Was it unreasonable to be jealous of the black apron secured around his middle, right where Jake wanted to be? He had a swimmer’s body—streamlined rather than being overly buff. Deft hands moved between the computer and takeaway cups where he scrawled names onto them, passing them along the production line. He was efficient but friendly too, taking the time to smile at every customer and thank them for any coins they dropped into the tip jar. Jake’s eyes were drawn to the white name tag pinned to the other man’s chest. Phoenix. Even his name was exotic. He had a presence, and Jake wanted to bask in it for as long as he could. Immerse himself in the man.
“Almond cappuccino with an extra cup of foam.”
Jake swallowed. God, that sounded awful. He looked around, trying to figure out who would order that.
“That’s him.” Phoenix pointed to Jake, and his belly flip-flopped before swooping. The other man’s attention being focused on him, even only for a moment, was enough to give him a high.
Then his words registered.The coffee was his?
“Sir? I have your order.” A young woman came out from behind the counter and handed him two cups. “Thanks for visiting Grounds.”
He nodded absentmindedly, his focus still trained on Phoenix and took a sip.
Milky coffee slid over his tongue, the burst of sweetness that it bought entirely overpowering the taste of the beans. It was a cacophony of flavours that weren’t in any way harmonious. Vanilla, honey, chocolate, and the nuttiness of the almond milk clashed, and Jake had to resist the urge to spit it straight back out.
With his eyes watering, he turned and dashed from the coffee shop, racing outside and spitting the contents into the cup of caramel froth. What was the man in front of him thinking? That coffee was an abomination. The worst thing he’d ever tasted. He shuddered and headed straight for the rubbish bin, dumping both cups into it. He hesitated, warring with himself to march straight back in there and order an espresso. His body craved it, almost as much as it craved another glance at the spectacular man who’d served him.
Oh shit.The man who’d served him. There was no way Jake could go back in there and ask for what he wanted now, not when he’d fumbled his last order so badly. There was only one thing left to do. Run. Never, ever go back there. Dying of embarrassment was another option.
The butterflies that had lifted off in his belly the moment he’d laid eyes on Phoenix stopped flapping, falling to the ground in a dramatic heap. The sickening lurch in his stomach at the possibility of never seeing Phoenix again bought him up short. Maybe he should try to order what he wanted.
But he was already pushed for time.
Jake wiped his sweaty palms down his charcoal suit pants and sucked in a breath. It would take a bit of mental cheerleading to pluck up the courage to walk back into that store, but until then, duty called. He had more meetings and more paperwork he needed to get to, and if he didn’t get a move on, he would be late. His next client was expecting a package of documents, and if he was lucky, Jake wouldn’t have to see him. It also meant he needed to be fast because, in all likelihood, his next client—his father—would be between meetings on the hour. So, if Jake wanted to avoid seeing him, he needed to be in and out within the next fifteen minutes.
Jake popped a mint to get the horrid taste of good coffee ruined by all the extras out of his mouth and made his way back to his building. When the lift opened in front of him, he settled back into the corner of the elevator as its shiny doors slid closed. The sinking in his gut had only grown, but it had nothing to do with going up to his office or the embarrassing encounter in the coffee shop. Rather, it had everything to do with his upcoming appointment. He hated that his father held so much power over him, even now after he’d done almost everything ever asked of him. The only thing he’d failed at—that his father actually knew about—was the lack of a law degree, and he’d never live that down. Even at twenty-two, the only thing Jake wanted to do was make his father proud. He doubted he’d ever achieve it.
Jake collected the papers Charles needed signed and headed out at a jog. For anybody else, they would simply be emailed. If the clients were technologically inept, a courier would deliver printed copies. But Jake’s father, the Maxwell Denyer, expected certain standards of operation and even his oldest friend—Jake’s boss—knew to comply with those demands.
He strode the two blocks to the law firm’s offices, wishing he could drop them at the ground-floor lobby.
The differences between the entrance of the building he’d just come from and this one were stark. Where the lobby to his was stylish, if not a bit dated, the tower housing one of Australia’s largest and most prestigious law firms was downright opulent. And locked up as tight as a vault.
White Italian marble lined the floors, contrasting with the black marble on the walls. Thousands of silver lights, each the thickness of a pen, hung on long wires from the double-height ceiling, creating a blanket of stars reflecting off the polished surfaces no matter the time of day or night. Jake was awed, and yet revulsion filled him at the same time. The building itself was gorgeous, and the owners had invested millions in ensuring the most up-to-date security features and top environmental sustainability targets were met. But the building wasn’t the problem. None of it changed the fact that his father was sitting in one of the pretentious penthouse offices ruling over his domain, and by entering the building, Jake was voluntarily putting himself in front of his biggest critic. Well, not entirely voluntarily. His father had demanded his presence, and his boss had readily acquiesced.
He swallowed, willing himself not to puke.
Jake signed in at the security desk, scanned his licence and waited for the armed attendant to acknowledge him. “They’re expecting you on the thirty-seventh floor, Mr Denyer. This pass will take you directly there.”
