Page 52 of Hush

It was Tom’s turn to squirm. “It didn’t make me uncomfortable.”

He didn’t say anything about not being into men.

“It was kind of flattering. I mean, they think that you’d go for a guy like me?” Tom snorted, and tried to laugh. It sounded forced. “I’m not your type.”

“Not my type?” Mike boggled. “Yeah, I don’t go for super smart, kind, funny, attractive guys at all.”

Tom’s flush was a permanent thing, staining his cheeks, his ears, his neck, bright magenta. He clutched his margarita like it was a shield. He shook his head, looking beyond Mike, over his shoulder with a slight frown. “Aren’t I a little old for you?”

“Hypothetically, or for real?” Mike swallowed, his mouth suddenly dry. “What are we talking about?”

Tom bit his lip. His eyes flicked to Mike’s.

Mike hissed, inhaling. Tom’s eyes, his open, expressive eyes, were bleeding raw, hungry desire. Terror wound through his gaze, but the want, the hope, burned bright.

“Tom?” It was the first time he’d said his name to his face, and Tom gasped. “What’s going on? What’s happening here?”

Tom took his time answering. He set down his margarita, mostly just melted ice, and swallowed. He sat back, avoiding Mike’s gaze, and his fingers clenched on the metal armrests of his chair. “Have you ever had a secret?” he said softly. “Something so huge you buried it where you thought it would die?”

Oh my God. Oh my fucking God. Mike’s jaw fell open.

Finally, Tom looked up. “I…” His lips pressed shut, and he looked pained, for a moment, like he’d been stabbed. “I really want to take you to dinner.” His voice was soft, his words fast.

Fucking Kris.His first thought was blind anger, surging through him like a geyser erupting. Anger hid everything else: shock, confusion, a mix of depression and elation. Tomwasinto men! He did want Mike!

But to what end? Dinner and a fuck? What was this building between them? How had Tom managed to keepthishidden from a four-inch-thick binder of background investigations?

Tom was waiting, though, for an answer. His eyes, that seconds ago had been full of hope, were dimming, shuttering, boards going up in the depths of his gaze like he was preparing for bad news. “It’s all right, Mike. I knew it wouldn’t happen.”

“Okay.”

“Okay?” Tom frowned.

Mike nodded. There was something here, something between them, and damn it, he wanted to know what it was. Maybe it was just Tom’s very, very careful playbook of seduction. Maybe Tom wanted a quick, hot fuck and nothing else. But maybe it was something more. Tom wanted to see him, had sought him out, and his smiles were enough to make Mike’s stomach tie itself in knots.

He couldn’t just walk away from that without knowing what was going on.

“Okay. Let’s do dinner.”

Tom went bone white, his eyes boggling.He didn’t think I’d say yes.“Uhh… Okay. Yeah, let’s.” And then Tom smiled, beamed, radiating happiness and surprised shock as he stared at Mike.

“When?”

“Tomorrow night?” Tom answered quickly. “I… Can I cook dinner for you?”

Jesus. None of his exes knew how to cook, and they’d all made him serve them. He was the one who made romantic dinners at home and planned special date nights for the two of them, things that weren’t out to a bar or a club. Was Tom a romantic, like him?

Or was this a way to get Mike to his home, get him up to bed as quick as he could? Fast seduction, nothing more?

Or was this to stay out of the public spotlight? Was there a deeper secret behind the missing information from his background binder?

Mike nodded. He didn’t trust himself to speak.

Tom seemed undone, and he kept staring at Mike, blinking like Mike wasn’t really there. He took a deep breath, and then another. Nodded. “I, uh. I should go.” His hands shook as he grabbed his briefcase and his jacket and stood. Mike stayed sitting. “I’m… I’mreallylooking forward to tomorrow.” He smiled, weakly, and then left, striding away, almost running away.

Mike watched him go.

He leaned forward, burying his face in his hands, and groaned. What the hell was going on? Just who was Tom Brewer, anyway?