If It Flies (Market Garden, #3)(5)

Yeah. The tie and col ar weren’t the problem. There wasn’t enough air in this room when Nick was around.

14

“So.” Nick slid the straw back into his drink. He sucked his index finger into his mouth and, watching Spencer’s eyes, slowly slipped it free. “What the hell is a man like you doing here?”

“Is that your way of asking what’s a nice guy like me doing in a place like this?”

“No.” He covered the end of his straw again and grinned at Spencer. “It’s me asking what exactly you’re looking for so I can decide how much you’ll pay me.”

God, but he was direct. Of course he wasn’t trying to sell anything or close the deal. It seemed that in Nick’s mind, the deal was already closed, and there was nothing left to do but sign on the dotted line, exchange money, and . . .

Holy f*ck. He could afford it, that wasn’t a concern, but a night alone and naked with a man like this? Spencer would never have to give Percy details because there was no way he’d survive until morning. Or maybe Percy would have the good grace to leave him alone about it? Well, he could dream.

“Uhm.” He blew out a breath. “I’d be looking for a . . . a top.”There, he’d said it. Somehow, his concept of male whores involved them getting it up the arse all night—which sounded like a pretty good deal, though it was likely humiliating.

Maybe he’ll be rough.

Spencer clamped down on that thought quicker than he’d have stomped on a cockroach in his student accommodations—what, ten years ago?

Nick kept looking at him. “And?”

So that part of the deal was on. “I’m in charge.”

“You’re the customer. Of course you’re in charge.” Those lips quirked with the most devilish little grin that made 15

Spencer grateful he could just sit here for a while. That way, nobody had a clear view of his trousers.

“My place?”

“After you’ve done the membership application, yes.”

Nick nodded towards one of the guys at the bar. “There’s a background check, but they’re discreet.” The grin was still there, as if the whole thing was an elaborate prank.

“How quickly can they do it?”

“Pretty quickly.” Nick nodded over. “You can do that now.”Spencer hesitated, then figured Nick would probably wait those five or ten minutes, so he stood and headed over to the bar.

It took twenty-five minutes altogether, and he grew more and more impatient. Nick wouldn’t wait this long, would he?

But he had, chasing melting ice cubes around in his drink with the straw.

Spencer rejoined him in the booth. “All right. Paperwork is taken care of. So how much are we talking?” The implication—obligation?—in his own words rattled him.

Naturally, Nick wasn’t fazed at al . “Want an hour, half a night, whole night?”

“When do I have to decide that?”

Nick tsk ed. “Well, I need a baseline to give you a quote.

Personally, I recommend more than an hour, so we can get to know each other better.” And how did he manage to be so suggestive without waggling his brows or giving him a wink?

The inflection in his voice was so subtle the come-on was barely there.

Spencer exhaled. “Why don’t we start with two hours?”

Nick studied him for a little while. “Five hundred.”

“I beg your pardon?”

16

“Two hours. Five hundred quid.”

Spencer grinned. “You’re charging partner rates.” Not quite. At his firm, partners didn’t get out of bed for any less than ￡650 an hour. Still, nice little student job if you could get it. Of course, Nick might have to pay off the establishment, possibly a pimp.

“You a lawyer?”

Spencer’s grin died. “Uh. Never mind. Five hundred quid is fine.” He’d hardly need dozens of hours—he wasn’t trying to solve a tricky legal problem. Besides, he did believe in paying specialists what they were worth, and Nick was making him hard just with his cocky arrogance. If he was any good at f*cking—and he’d likely had the practise—that would be more than worth it. Spencer swallowed. “I’m assuming I can feed the meter if I want to go on longer?”

An incredibly subtle laugh curled Nick’s lips. There was no middle ground with this man: either everything was blatant and in your face, or subtle to the point that Spencer couldn’t always tell if it was really there.

“Feed the meter. Cute.” Nick dipped his straw in his drink and covered it with his finger again. After he’d released the liquid into his mouth, swallowed it—God, he could even make that sexy, the way he raised his chin to expose his entire throat—he put the straw back in his drink and said, “We can always negotiate extensions.”

This was strictly business to him, wasn’t it? He enjoyed it, got a charge out of it, but when it came to transactions, it was all black and white. Cash and sex. Nothing more.

“Two hours, then.” Spencer tried not to shift around, keeping both his nerves and impatience as far up his sleeve as he could. “What does two hours with Nick get me, anyway?”

17

Nick grinned. Nothing subtle this time, not even a little.

“It gets you two hours with Nick.” The grin broadened a little more, pale green eyes narrowing like he could see right through to anything Spencer was trying to keep up his sleeve.