On the Clock (Market Garden, #8)(44)

“Don’t mind if I do.” Jason studied the carefully arranged circle of shrimp covered in sauce and spices. “Have you had these before?”

“Not these. But you can’t go wrong in this place, so I’d be surprised if they weren’t good.” He paused. “About as surprised as a waitress who just heard—”

“Fuck off.” Jason huffed, and then moved one of the spicy scampi to his plate. Arching an eyebrow, he added, “I’d bet good money she also figured out that’s where you acquired me.”

“Acquired? I wouldn’t put it quite that . . . crudely.”

Jason shrugged as he cut off a small piece of the scampi. “Well, this is a business arrangement, isn’t it?”

“Fair point. But . . .” Blake wrinkled his nose. “I’m still not sure I’d use that particular term for it. Though I guess there’s no point in dressing it up when you’re essentially renting people.”

Jason studied him, and after a moment, laid his fork down, the piece of shrimp still on it. “It’s funny. I don’t run into many men who even consider how odd it is to be hiring someone like this. Renting their body for an evening, as it were. Does it . . . does it actually bother you?”

“If I think about it too much, yeah.” Blake swallowed. “And the first time I came into Market Garden, I felt guilty. It seemed . . . exploitative. Paying someone for sex, I mean.”

“It can be. I can’t imagine working like this for any other place. Frank makes damned sure everyone at Market Garden is safe. The background checks are mandatory and thorough, and he has no qualms at all about throwing people out if he thinks they’re dodgy.”

“Does that happen often?”

“Not really. I’m quite surprised by how little it happens, if I’m honest.”

“Me too, but I’m glad to hear it. I like that place, and I’d hate to think it was a bad situation for the guys who work there. So yes, the whole ‘renting another person’ thing still doesn’t always sit well.” He met Jason’s eyes. “But then I run into guys like you who are not only okay with it, but enjoy it.”

Jason smiled. “Therein lies the key, wouldn’t you say? As long as both parties enjoy what they’re doing, then what’s the harm?”

“Well, assuming he’s genuinely enjoying it, sure.”

“And if it’s any consolation,” Jason said, picking up his fork again, “I do genuinely enjoy it.”

“Good.” Blake smiled back. “So do I.”



The valet brought the Lamborghini up to the door, and grinned like a little kid as he stepped out of the driver’s seat. “Here’s your car, sir.”

“Thanks.” Blake handed him a twenty, and then climbed into the idling sports car with Jason.

In the passenger seat, Jason leaned back against the headrest and sighed. “Why am I so bloody tired all of a sudden? It’s not even half nine.”

“Jet lag, mi amigo.”

Jason huffed indignantly as only an Englishman could. “Someone needs to do something about that.”

“You won’t hear any arguments from me. Give it another day or so, and you’ll be fine.”

“Mm-hmm. Just in time to go back to London and feel like shit all over again.”

“If it’s any consolation, it’s better going east than west.”

“Is it? Well, that’s promising.” He turned toward Blake and wagged a finger at him. “If you’re wrong, you can consider it an act of war.”

“Uh-huh.” Blake patted Jason’s thigh. “I’ll send out an email to let everyone know the redcoats are coming.”

Jason snorted. “You would, wouldn’t you?”

“Absolutely.” They glanced at each other, and both chuckled. As Blake put the car in gear, he said, “We’ll take it easy tomorrow. Sleep in, chill for the day, and the next one, we’ll go check out some of the touristy stuff.”

“Brilliant. Particularly the sleeping in part.”

“I figured you’d be agreeable.” Blake pulled out of the parking lot and back onto the main road. “Anything you want to see when we go out?”

“The usual things. Times Square. The Statue of Liberty. Central Park.”

Blake nodded. “Can do. Anyone else, I’d be asking how well you like crowds, but you live in London, so . . .”

“Just don’t let me get mugged, please.”

“Oh come on. It’s part of the New York experience!”

Jason eyed him for a moment. “Sometimes I can’t tell if you’re joking.”

“Well, it is part of the New York experience if you’re there long enough, but I’ll try my best to avoid it.”

“Good.” Jason shifted in the passenger seat. “I’m all for experiencing everything a place has to offer, but I do have my limits.” He shifted again, and Blake caught a slight wince.

“You okay?”

“I’m fine.” Jason waved a hand. “Body’s not used to being f*cked over a car, apparently.”

“It’s probably something you get used to with practice.”

“If we ‘practice’ that a few times, I won’t tell anyone about that act of jet-lag war.”