On the Clock (Market Garden, #8)(31)

“What’s so funny?” She eyed him, and then peered at Jason. “Are you filling his head with lies, young man? I will call your boss, you know.”

“Well, I wouldn’t say ‘lies.’ And what’s Frank going to do? Tell me to take my clients to McDonald’s instead of this place?”

Emily scowled. “Knowing that bastard, he might. Fine. I won’t call him this time.” She wagged a finger at Blake. “But don’t you believe everything this one says.”

Blake chuckled and put up his hands. “Hey, leave me out of this. I’m a foreigner. I know nothing.”

Emily’s eyebrow arched. To Jason, she said, “My, my. Someone who’s as quick as you. Looks like you’ve got your work cut out for you tonight.”

“That’s how I like it.” Jason winked, but it was at Blake, not her.

Blake glanced at his coffee. Maybe he didn’t need any more caffeine tonight.

“Anyway.” Emily clasped her hands together. “Can I get you ‘gentlemen’ anything else?”

“No, thank you,” Blake said.

“We’re fine. Cheers.”

Emily smiled and left them to their coffee. Blake watched her as she walked away, and then turned to Jason. “Not the most discreet in the world, is she?”

“Well, she knows I only bring men here who won’t object to her—and only her—knowing why they’re with me. I figured you wouldn’t.” His forehead creased. “You . . . don’t, do you?”

Blake shook his head. “I guess I’m not used to a Brit being quite so open and casual about . . . um . . .”

Jason laughed. “Well, she spends enough time around Frank and Brandon, I doubt the girl’s got any filter left. They have that effect on people.” He took a bite of his panna cotta. “So, I’m curious what the price tag will be on that first class upgrade.”

“Make me an offer.”

“Hmm.” Jason took another bite, and rolled it around on his tongue for a moment. “Well, you should know that if I’m forced to ride in coach, I will f*ck one of the flight attendants in a lavatory before we land.”

Jesus. Wasn’t that a hot mental image.

Blake swallowed some coffee. “What if all the flight attendants are female?”

Jason looked him right in the eye. “Then I guess I’ll have to talk my way into the cockpit.”

Blake wanted to remind him that pilots and copilots were often female as well, but he was too busy imagining Jason encouraging the hot, uniformed guys to put the plane on autopilot for a while. He shivered. “Well, when you put it like that, it’s tempting to make sure you wind up in coach. In the center of a row.”

“That’s just inhumane.” Jason sniffed sharply. “Put me in the center row in peasant class, and I’ll start chasing down the baggage handlers.”

Blake laughed. “And then you might miss our flight.”

“So it would behoove you to make sure I’m in first class where you can keep track of me, wouldn’t it?”

“Indeed it would. All right. Well, first-class tickets don’t come cheap.”

“Neither do I.”

“Of course you don’t.” He folded his hands on the table. “Tell you what—you know I enjoy watching, right?”

Jason leaned closer, almost hiding the way he squirmed. “Yes, I do.”

“I’ve got a late meeting tomorrow night, but the night after, I want you to meet me back at my room. Seven thirty, after my meetings are over.” Blake leaned in too, narrowing the space between them, and Jason mirrored him. Lowering his voice to a conspiratorial whisper, he said, “Bring someone from Market Garden. Anyone. And I want you two to give me a show.” He grinned. “If I like what I see, then I’ll make sure you ride first class even if I have to ride in coach.”

Jason swallowed. Blake swore he could feel Jason’s body temperature rising.

“Well?” He inclined his head. “What do you say?”

“I say . . .” Jason licked his lips. “Game on.”





Eventually, Blake would learn that planning something like this for after a meeting was not conducive to making said meeting tolerable. He still had enough of his bearings to concentrate and get shit done, but all the while, there was a delicious little distraction tugging at his mind. A few more hours, and he’d be back in the penthouse with Jason in his bed. And someone else from Market Garden.

During a break, he thought about the myriad faces he’d seen at the brothel in the past, and tried to predict who Jason might bring. One of the twinks? Maybe that hot security guard? Technically, Jared and Tristan didn’t work at Market Garden anymore, but Blake wouldn’t protest if they showed up tonight.

Whoever Jason chose, this was going to get interesting.

On his way back into the conference room, he checked his watch. Four fifteen. Still two-plus hours to go until Jason and his mystery man. Two-plus hours of meetings, which were not known for their ability to accelerate the passage of time.

It sometimes annoyed him that his clients on this side of the pond insisted on conducting business face-to-face instead of moving into the twenty-first century and handling it all online. Today, he was equal parts grateful and annoyed. The meetings gave him a reason to be in the same city as Jason, even if at the moment, they kept him from being in the same room.