His Sugar Baby(17)

Michael grinned. As always during business hours, Darryl was attired in a well-fitted suit, shirt and tie. Heavy gold cufflinks adorned his shirt cuffs, and his shoes were polished to a mirror finish. His own style usually ran to business casual. “You look like a pimp.”


“You look like a houseboat refugee,” countered Darryl affably. It had been an old running joke between them since their college days. They were opposites in so many ways, except for their common drive to succeed. Darryl’s sartorial elegance really stood out in a city that prized a laid-back lifestyle, but it played well with clients on the East Coast and in Europe. “I just wanted to let you know that we’re on target for next month. You want to grab a beer after work?”

Michael shook his head. He couldn’t stop the flash of smile that crossed his face. He leaned against the front of the desk, his hands curling around the edge on each side. “I’ve made plans but thanks.”

Darryl raised a heavy black brow, clear interest sparking in his dark-brown eyes. “Plans as in a female type of plans?”

Michael laughed. “Exactly.”

“Is she why you were late to the barbeque?”

“I’ve been seeing someone, yeah.”

He had not seen or contacted Winter since their shopping trip on Saturday four days ago, so he was feeling keen anticipation about seeing her again that evening. He was not an aficionado of the ballet, but having Winter as his companion would more than compensate. She would be wearing that incredible dress that molded to her delectable body like a glove. He felt himself stirring pleasantly at the thought. Not wanting to give away the direction of his thoughts, he straightened and walked back behind his desk to drop into the chair.

“This is beginning to sound serious.” Darryl sat down in an armchair across from the desk. The leather squeaked as he shifted to cross one ankle over the opposite knee. He twitched the sharp knife-pleat in the pant leg to his satisfaction before he asked with mild curiosity, “Well, who is she? Anyone I know?”

“No, you don’t know her. She’s a single mother, very attractive. I enjoy her company.” Michael kept his explanation deliberately brief and vague. He had no intention of explaining to anyone, including his best friend, anything about his relationship with Winter. Some things were best kept to himself. Especially since he had no plans to ever introduce her to his social circle.

Darryl snorted in derision. “A single mother? I can’t see you spending quality time with a rug rat.”

“I don’t. I’ve never met the kid. Or kids.” Michael leaned back in his office chair. She has a daughter named Chloe. Young enough to like stuffed teddy bears. He shook off the stray thought.

“Kid or kids? You don’t even know?”

“I don’t care about that part of her life.” That wasn’t quite the truth, he thought, vaguely troubled. In actuality, when she had inadvertently revealed that she had at least the one child, he had almost asked her about her home life. But he had bitten back the impulse. As long as their mutually beneficial arrangement was unimpaired, he wasn’t going to take an interest in her personal affairs.

“You don’t care.” Darryl shook his head. Crossing his arms over his broad chest, he settled deeper into the armchair. “That’s cold, Mike. Even for you.”

Michael deliberately narrowed his eyes and formed the cold half smile that he had cultivated over the years for business negotiations. “What are you saying? That I’m a heartless bastard?”

Darryl flashed a grin that was dazzling against his mahogany skin. With a frankness that would have been insulting except for the fact that they had known each other for a long time, he said, “That’s exactly what I’m saying.” He nodded and pointed his finger. “Cold bastard. But that’s what makes you so good at what you do.”

Michael laughed, letting go of his narrow-eyed expression. “When you’re right, you’re right.”

Darryl chuckled, but then he slowly sobered. “Now that you’re seeing this woman, what about Morgan?”

Michael’s good humor vanished like smoke. Stiffening, he stared across the wide desk at his friend. It was an old discussion, one that he had forcefully made plain he did not want to revisit. It surprised and, yes, irritated the hell out of him that Darryl had brought it up. With deliberate finality, he said, “Morgan and I drifted apart a long time ago.”

“I know that. I also know you’re going to have to deal with the fallout some day.”

Michael just looked at him, and his lips tightened. Anger simmered in his gut.

“Damn, man, you could have been a gunslinger with that icy stare.” After a beat or two, Darryl threw up his hand in mute acknowledgement that he had crossed the line. “I’m just saying. So are you set to go to Singapore?”

Michael welcomed the change of subject. But he couldn’t contain his annoyed thoughts. What is it with Darryl, anyway? He pushed aside the maelstrom of strong emotions that always rose up inside of him with reminders of the past. “Yeah. I’m flying out day after tomorrow.”

Darryl nodded approvingly. “It’ll be good to nail that account.”

“I’ll bring it home.” Michael pushed the folder that he had been looking at earlier across the desk. “Take a look. I think I’ve got it covered.”