If It Fornicates (Market Garden, #4)(29)

Poor Linda. The woman must have her hands full with him. Or maybe she was as receptive as Nick, which was why Glenn had ended up at the Garden in the first place.

“Nick?”

Nick shook himself and looked at Spencer. “Sorry. What?”

Spencer chuckled. “You all right? You kind of spaced out.”

“Yeah. Yeah. Just, um, thinking.”

“You run into . . . um, clients like that? Very often, I mean?”

“It’s a big city,” Nick said with a shrug. “But I cater to people with big bank accounts, and people with big bank accounts tend to hang out—” He gestured around the art exhibit. “—in places like this.”

“Fair point.” Spencer exhaled. “I guess it’s bound to happen, then. Just wasn’t expecting to bump into him of all people.”

“Of all the people you might’ve run into,” Nick asked, gesturing over his shoulder towards the café, “are there worse ones than him?”

A low bark of laughter burst out of Spencer. “Oh. God. Yes, there are worse ones. He might announce to everyone in the office that I’m gay, but one of the other partners? We’d still be in there listening to all the reasons we shouldn’t be out together like this.”

“No, we wouldn’t,” Nick said.

Spencer smiled. “True. Forgot who I was with for a minute there.” They exchanged glances, and both laughed. Then Spencer slid his hands into his pockets. “We still have time to check out the Klein and Moriyama exhibit. You game?”

“Absolutely.”





If the massage thing didn’t work out, Spencer could always try catering—those lamb kebab thingies on the almond couscous with cucumber yoghurt salad were bloody amazing. Light, too. Nick found himself polishing off a full plate and not getting drowsy. “And you cook,” he added to the long list of Spencer’s qualities.

“When I have the energy left. Did a dinner club thing as a student. You know, two friends and me, and we kept meeting to eat and study.”

“I’m not sure I want a bunch of psych students in my flat,” Nick said. “Someone might catch a glimpse of some of my ‘toys’ and . . .”

Spencer chuckled. “That could be a bit awkward, I suppose.”

“Just a bit.”

“Well, that group was where I learned to cook. Also, I had a bit of a crush on one of the other guys.” Spencer smiled sheepishly. “Guess I tried to impress. It did leave me with a working knowledge of cooking simple dishes. Nothing too elaborate, so don’t expect Heston Blumenthal-style food any time soon.”

“Not even if I ordered you to?”

Spencer cast his gaze down. “I might have to find a way to cheat.”

Sub, but creative on his end, too. Nick grinned. Maybe he could get Spencer to break a rule. Eventually. Not yet—he just loved Spencer’s obedience and that unspoiled, full-hearted way he threw himself into his role. But eventually. Just one of many spices available to keep things interesting.

Spencer went quiet. Well, the conversation had come to a lull, anyway, but he was distant. Preoccupied.

Hopefully not with that arsehole we ran into today.

“Something on your mind?” he asked.

Spencer shifted in his chair. Resting an elbow on the table, he ran a fingertip along the smooth edge of his jaw. “Just thinking.”

Nick took a drink to wet his mouth and also mask his need to swallow nervously. “About?”

Looking Nick straight in the eye, Spencer said, “I’m not the only one stressing myself into the ground over my job.”

“No, you’re not.” Nick lowered his gaze. “Are you going to tell me I should change fields too?”

“Not necessarily.” Spencer watched him for a moment. “But like I said last night, I really think you should think about changing . . . something.”

Nick arched an eyebrow.

“Nick, my job is stressful no matter what. Maybe that means I need to change it, maybe it doesn’t, but aside from people now knowing I’m gay, our relationship is separate from my job.” Spencer inclined his head. “You’ve said yourself that our relationship has a direct impact on your ability to do yours.”

“Okay, yes, it does.”

“Which means that the more you’re stressed about one, the more it’s going to affect the other.”

Nick shifted uncomfortably. “So what are you suggesting?”

The lawyer and submissive were at odds for a moment, Spencer’s posture stiffening even as his eyebrows pulled up slightly.

Nick spoke first. “If our relationship threatened your job, or the other way around, which would you leave?”

“I’d leave the one that’s making me the most miserable,” Spencer said. “Question is, in your case, which is it?”

Nick tapped the handle on his coffee mug. It was a valid question. Fact was, both the job and the relationship were sources of stress, and they compounded each other.

“You’re stressing like this because of me, and because of your job,” Spencer said. “Something has to give, Nick.”

Nick eyed him. “Is that an ultimatum?”

Spencer opened his mouth to speak, but hesitated. “I . . .”