On the Clock (Market Garden, #8)(36)

“Never looked back?”

“I . . . wouldn’t say that.” His gaze shifted toward the watch. He never had forgotten the feeling of putting it on for the first time, and realizing it could be his, free and clear, without putting so much as a dent in his finances. What had begun as a moment of indulgent tire-kicking had become a milestone—a point at which his rocky financial past was truly behind him. He’d bought the watch that night. A week later, he’d paid off his mother’s house.

He shook himself. “I look back all the time, actually. I might buy a lot of fancy toys and spend loads of money, but a day doesn’t go by that I don’t remember what it was like before.”

Jason studied him. Then he reached over and picked up the watch. He gazed at it almost reverently as he traced the bezel and the bracelet with his thumb. “Guess I never thought of something like this as being sentimental.”

“I didn’t either. Not until about three seconds before I decided to buy it.”

Jason nodded. “And here I thought most people got tattoos to commemorate things.”

Blake laughed. “I think I’ll stick with the watch.”

“Can’t blame you.” Jason laid the watch beside the bedside lamp, again setting it down so carefully it barely rattled as it came to rest on the hard surface.

He turned on his side, facing Blake. “So when do you fly out?”

“You mean, when do we fly out?”

Jason swept his tongue across his lips. “Yeah.”

“Tomorrow afternoon.” Blake smiled. “Though I should call tonight and make sure your seat is properly upgraded.”

Grinning, Jason slid his arm over Blake’s chest. “And if there aren’t any first-class seats available?”

“We’ll change flights.” Blake ran his hand up Jason’s arm. “After this evening, there’s no way in hell you’re flying anything less than first class.”

Jason chuckled. “Well, I suppose I should go by my flat and pack a few things.” He paused. “You’re welcome to come along, if you’d like.”

“You don’t mind me coming to your place?”

Jason shrugged. “You’re taking me to yours.”

“That’s true. I suppose we should get dressed, then.”





As they stepped off the train onto the Underground platform at the South Kensington station, Blake fought a grin. He couldn’t help being mildly amused at the situation—less than an hour ago, they’d been naked in bed with two other men, having some of the most unbelievable sex of his entire life, and now they were here, in public, surrounded by people who had no reason to give them a second look. His Puritan roots ran deep enough to make him aware of how many sins they’d just committed, but not deep enough to make him ashamed of them.

He was especially unashamed—maybe even proud—when, on the way out of the station, he caught a pretty boy in leather and Armani giving Jason’s ass a look.

Sorry, dude. He’s with me tonight.

Oh to hell with it—Blake stopped fighting that grin.

Jason furrowed his brow. “What?”

“Hmm?”

“You’re smirking.”

“What? No I’m not.”

The arched eyebrow called bullshit.

Blake laughed, waving a hand. “Nothing. Nothing.”

“Mm-hmm.”

“Ever have one of those thoughts that makes perfect sense to you, and makes you laugh, but if you tried to explain it, you’d sound like an idiot?”

“From time to time, yes.”

“That.”

Jason nodded. “Fair enough.” He gestured up ahead. “We’re not far. Another couple of blocks.” But then his gait slowed a bit.

Blake glanced at him. “Something wrong?”

“I . . . guess it didn’t really strike me before, but . . . I, um, don’t usually bring my work home with me.” He paused. “I’ve never actually brought a john back to my flat.”

Blake halted. “Is this . . . not something we should be doing?”

Shrugging, Jason faced him. “We’re just off to pick up a few things. I guess I don’t see much harm in that.”

Blake didn’t move. “If you’re not comfortable, though, I can wait.” He pointed over his shoulder toward the Underground station. “You could meet me back at the station.”

“No. It’s silly. I mean, I’m flying to America with you, so I shouldn’t be so—”

“Jason.” Blake struggled not to put a reassuring hand on his arm. “If you’re not comfortable, say so. It won’t change anything. I promise.”

Jason studied him for a moment. Blake was pretty sure he’d be waiting at the Tube station, which was fine—just give me the word.

To his surprise, though, Jason nodded sharply in the direction they’d been heading, and without a word, started walking once more. Blake fell into step beside him, and Jason didn’t hesitate again, not even as they followed the path that led from the street to a narrow, three-story stone building. The place had one of those blue plaques outside indicating someone famous had grown up or died here, or that something significant happened here, but Blake was a little too focused on the someone in front of him to read it.