“Um, yeah, that sounds good. Thanks.”
He glanced over his shoulder and smirked at Alex. “You sound hesitant about my cooking abilities. I may not be a five-star chef, but I do well enough not to poison myself or anyone else.”
Alex couldn’t help the laugh that escaped him. “That’s . . . uh, that’s good to know. No poison. Good. Can I help with anything?”
Selecting a frying pan from the hanging rack over the room’s island, Scout pointed to a cabinet, then another, and finally a drawer. “Plates are in there, glasses there, and silverware. You can set the table while I’m cooking.” He gestured to a table for two in a nook in the corner of the room. “There’s also a container of summer slaw, pickles, and a pitcher of sweet tea in the fridge—you can put them out, too. If you prefer soda, there’s some in the pantry over there. Feel free to take your jacket off.”
For the next few minutes, they worked in an easy silence. Alex removed his jacket and put it on the back of a second stool, then found everything where he’d been told it would be. There were already fabric placemats and napkins on the table. Once he was done with his assignments, Alex watched Scout fry their sandwiches. The man had rolled up his sleeves and donned a black apron.
Alex was having a hard time keeping his eyes off Scout, so he forced himself to focus on the food instead. “That looks better than any grilled cheese I’ve ever had.”
“White cheddar, brie, Monterey Jack, and gruyere on sourdough bread. Mayo and butter on the outside and fried to perfection. Gourmet comfort food at its best.”
“Smells like it.”
Scout grinned at the compliment. “So, are you liking the job so far, compared to your old one?”
Alex was glad he didn’t have to lie. “I like it a lot. You have a different way of doing a few things, but nothing I can’t adjust to. It’s a beautiful hotel, and your employees and guests seem to love it. Do you mind if I ask how you got into the business?”
“Not at all, but let me take care of this first.” He turned off the stove and carried the frying pan to the table, then used a spatula to place a sandwich on each plate. “Sit.”
He obeyed the command as Scout dumped the pan and utensil into the sink and turned the water on for a few moments before joining him at the table. After taking a pickle spear and a scoop of the slaw and adding them to his plate, Alex cut his sandwich in half and picked one up. He was aware of the other man watching him take the first bite. A burst of cheesy deliciousness hit his taste buds, and he couldn’t help but moan. Scout just laughed and then took a bite of his own sandwich.
Alex chewed and swallowed, nodding the entire time. Before he spoke, he wiped his mouth with a napkin. “Holy cow, this has to be the best grilled cheese I’ve ever had.”
“Ass-kissing the boss isn’t necessary, Alex.”
“Trust me, that wasn’t an attempt to ass-kiss. This is really, really good.” He took another bite and noticed a pleased expression on Scout’s face. The man seemed to be relieved his assistant liked the meal he’d cooked for them. Alex wondered what it would be like to be sitting there having breakfast with Scout after a night of raunchy sex. Nope, don’t think that. He’s off-limits, Shepherd—if you want to keep your job that is!
“So, you asked how I got into the hotel business,” Scout said in between bites and sips of his soda.
“Mm-hmm.” That was all he could get out with a mouthful of food.
“My dad’s got a successful real estate investment company—condos, townhouses, private neighborhoods, stuff like that. Growing up, I got to do a lot of traveling all over the US and Canada for Dad’s business, then to other countries for vacations. My parents’ goal is to visit as many of the great cities around the world as possible. My two younger sisters and I were on our third passports before we were twenty-one years old.”
“Wow. And I’ve never been out of the states except Canada and trips to the Caribbean a few times.”
“Yeah, well, spending that much time traveling, I began using my own system to rate hotels and restaurants—just for fun at first. I kept track of all the little details that made a place special, things that weren’t common everywhere we went. With my dad as a backer, I bought my first place in Santa Ana when I was twenty-six. Long story short, I flipped it for a nice profit two years later. By then I was hooked. The next one I invested in, I kept. That was the beginning of Turner Continental. Ten years later, here I am getting ready to open my seventh hotel, with a few other ventures under my belt too.”
Alex swallowed the last bite of his sandwich, almost disappointed it was all gone. “That’s fantastic. You found something you loved and created a successful business from it.”
“So, what about you? How’d you get into the hotel industry?”
“Honestly, it wasn’t my original choice of majors. When I first got to NYU, I was looking for a business admin degree. We’d lived in New York until I was fourteen, and I missed it enough to want to go back there for school. To help my folks with the tuition and other expenses, I got a job at the Roxy in Tribeca as a bellman. Made good money in tips and started learning more about the business. I switched majors after two years but kept biz admin as my minor. Graduated and ended up at the Four Seasons.”
“Then you ended up here.” He lifted his glass of soda and held it up in the air. Alex clinked his glass against Scout’s as the man continued. “Well then, here’s to new beginnings. Glad to have you on my staff.”
For some unknown, messed-up reason, Alex’s brain altered that last sentence, and he almost choked—Glad to have you on my shaft.
Six weeks later . . .
It wasn’t even five in the morning yet, and Scout was already pounding away on the treadmill in his home gym, sweat pouring off him, as he tried to expel a few demons from his brain. Like almost every day for the past month and a half, he’d woken up hard as stone, with his PA’s name on his lips. Never had he fantasized about one man who he’d never even kissed for this long before, and it was getting worse as time went by.
Last night, Scout had been up late, playing the piano, something he did often when indecision plagued him. He had an eclectic mix of favorite composers and songwriters whose songs he could play by ear. A little Elton John, Billy Joel, or Carole King tended to soothe him whenever he was in a funk, while Beethoven, Mozart, and Jerry Lee Lewis were his composers of choice for his personal form of anger management. Yanni, Norah Jones, and John Tesh were his go-to artists when he was in a romantic mood. Maybe tonight he’d try Ludwig, Wolfgang, and Jerry Lee, since Elton, Billy, and Carole hadn’t worked.
He’d tried several things, short of dragging the man into his bed and fucking the daylights out of him, to keep thoughts of Alex where they belonged—in the business-only section of his mind. So far, nothing had been successful. The horny toad on his shoulder was urging him to give into his lust. But the workhorse on the other side kept telling him not to rock the boat and ruin a good thing.
Alex was an excellent PA—the best Scout had ever had—and that had nothing to do with the man’s good looks or how much Scout was drawn to him. It hadn’t taken Alex long to get into the swing of things—he’d picked up on the routine around there quickly and got along well with the other Paradox employees. If Scout told him to do something, his assistant got it done with minimal effort or explanation. He was always on top of things, sometimes even ahead of Scout’s orders. A few times, Scout had kiddingly called Alex “Radar” after the character in M*A*S*H who always knew what was going to happen before it actually did.