Page 19 of Just Business

“Eli?”

Justin so rarely said his name. Eli turned toward that voice and blinked until his vision cleared. “Yes?”

“I was thinking of ordering some tapas. Want to share? I always order too many.” Bright eyes. And yes, eyeliner. But Justin was no whore, not anything close to it.

Nor was he Noah. Very much not Noah.I want this man far too much.“That—would be fine, yes.” A kindness.

“Anything you don’t like?”

“No.” Not anymore. “And yes, I like things hot.”

Justin blushed high on his cheeks. The waitress came to take their order before Eli could say anything else to make Justin’s color rise more.

Justin ordered six plates—which was more than enough food. Some vegetarian, some not—including shrimp and pork toast. Eli ate bits of everything, including stealing a bite of Sam’s curry.

“I’ll tell Michael.”

Eli shrugged and let the smile come. “Go right ahead.”

Sam chuckled and shared some with Justin, too. They would never finish all the food on the table, so Michael would end up with a nice selection of leftovers. Enough to counteract Eli’s snitching his food.

The days of Michael correcting Eli were long since over, though he was pretty sure Michael still kept count of infractions.

The vestiges of bad memories sank away. He was who he was, regardless of his parents’ wishes or actions. The accident that had unveiled it all had been anaccident. His therapists had warned him that the event would always be there, but he did not have to—wouldnotlet it rule him.

Justin cleaned his fingers on a napkin. “So you turned Sanhex down?”

Sam laughed. “Oh, no. They agreed to our terms once Eli had a chance to grab them by their neckties and put them in their places. Figuratively speaking.” He winked at Justin, who blushed again.

“Would have been more interesting to do that in person,” Eli said, watching carefully.

That had the desired effect on Justin—dilating pupils, hitched breath. What he wouldn’t give to sit down and have that conversation with Justin, the one he was never going to have with a coworker other than Sam.

Especially not one heliked.

Sam lifted an eyebrow.

“Anyway,” Eli said, “I explained exactly why we would not be contracting our time the way they wished and exactly why theywouldsign on with us. Their own report had enough fodder that I stuffed their own words back down their lovely little throats until they choked on them.”

Justin croaked.

“Figuratively speaking.”

“E can be very commanding.”

Oh, now was Sam getting into the teasing? Eli returned his attention to Justin.

A strange expression—part desire, part need—passed over Justin. It wasn’t sexual, though. “You make the executive end of business sound a lot more exciting than the textbooks.”

The waitress came with the check for Sam to sign and a box with Michael’s leftovers. Sam looked over the slip, added a tip, and signed. “It’s certainly more funwhenit’s exciting,” he said. “But the books don’t completely lie.” He rose.

Eli followed suit, as did Justin. “So what do you do when things are as dull as drying paint?” Justin said.

The restaurant was blessedly devoid of Eli’s parents. “Make our own fun,” he said.

They made their way to the door. Justin pushed his fringe of hair from his eyes. “Ah yes. Macramé. You’ll have to show me your knots sometime.”

Sam nearly dropped Michael’s leftovers. Both eyebrows were in his hairline when he glanced at Eli.