Page 9 of Jordan

“It can wait. I’m in a meeting with you.” Right. That’s all this was. My lusting over him would get me nowhere. I was the bottom of the barrel and Jordan was top-shelf liquor.

Turning to fully face him, I plastered on a smile I didn’t feel, even though I had much-needed money in a drawer. “Thank you for taking the time to come here today. I’ll be in touch with Tristan as I work on the suits. I’ll do one at a time to make sure I get every detail right and have any changes sent his way for your approval.”

Jordan reached into his pocket to withdraw a card, holding it between two fingers. “Contact me directly. It will be easier given that Tristan is traveling.”

“We’ve been communicating fine while he’s been gone.”

“Hartley, take the card and contact me with questions, details, changes, or whatever you need. My phone number is on there, as well as my email address. Texting is preferable, considering it’s easier for me to reply when I’m juggling multiple tasks.”

“Okay, whatever is best for you.” I took the card from him, my finger brushing his.

Jordan leaned forward ever so slightly, like he was going to whisper something to me. Instead, he inhaled. “You smell like the air after a summer storm,” he said softly.

Oh god, he was so close. If I pushed up on my toes, I could press my lips to his. “Thank you?” I squeaked out.

He hummed and leaned away. “No, thank you, Mr. Weathers. Good day.”

With that, he lifted his suit jacket to put it back on and turned for the door without another word, taking his scent and commanding presence with him while his whispered words lingered in my mind.

4

JORDAN

Hartley Weathers. Thirty-six years old. Born on January 20th. Single.

One relative, a brother, who he’s in communication with. Currently, he’s living in California and spending his money on alcohol rather than going to his job, which he was recently fired from.

A debt was accumulated by Hartley’s grandfather, who fell ill and had more outstanding bills than he knew how to take care of or the means to pay down. When he passed, he was on the verge of having his house foreclosed on. If he needed to purchase something, it went on one of the credit cards he had. The man was well over his head when he found out he had cancer. It spread quickly and was already throughout his body when he sought medical attention. He died with nothing to his name but debt.

It appears Hartley has started to pay off the money owed by cutting back on his own expenses, including letting his employees go, and changing locations to an area with cheaper rent. His grandfather’s house was willed to him. He works to keep it from foreclosure while also running his own business.

The report read on, but that was enough for now.

When I met with Hartley two days ago, I knew something was off, but not what. I had one of the private investigators I used look into Hartley and see what he could find. The amount of debt he took on wasn’t small, but it wasn’t astronomical either. At least I didn’t think so. I also didn’t have the same financial situation Hartley did.

The urge to pay off the debt was strong. I wouldn’t typically do that for a man I’d just met, but there was something about him. A need I had to soothe his worries and make him smile. Because when he did, he lit up the room.

Tristan had emailed me after hearing from Hartley that I had purchased three suits and would be in contact with him directly. Tristan wanted to make sure there wasn’t anything he could do for me. Romeo had also called to ask if I was replacing Tristan. I had to explain to them I was merely taking an interest in getting my suits designed and wouldn’t be firing anyone. I also told them to enjoy their time on tour with Dash, hoping they’d let this lie and not wonder why I was suddenly interested in working directly with Hartley, when I hadn’t felt the urge to get hands-on with any of the others.

Of course, it was Dash who wore a mischievous grin as I spoke to them over video chat. I didn’t give him the satisfaction of knowing he was onto something. If I did, he’d never let me forget it.

Closing the email with the report on Hartley in it, I leaned back in the chair and looked out the window. A light snow was falling but wasn’t sticking to the ground yet. It wasn’t supposed to accumulate, not that it mattered to me. I didn’t have plans to go anywhere today.

Latte barked and sat down by my feet to peer up at me.

“If you have to go out, find Raiden. I’m not doing it.”

She wagged her tail as her tongue lolled out.

Unable to resist, I leaned forward to rub my fingers through her soft fur. She was around eight months old and growing fast. If it wasn’t for the photos and occasional videos I sent Romeo, he wouldn’t get to see her grow while he was gone.

I had to admit; I didn’t like the feel of Romeo’s absence, nor that I couldn’t drop in at his home to check on him. It was the same with my son. It had been a month or so since I’d last seen him. Between the two of them, I felt empty and alone. Well, except for Latte. Did that mean my sudden infatuation with Hartley was due to needing another to focus my attention on? Or did I have a genuine interest in him?

Shaking my head, I got to my feet, as did Latte. I couldn’t think about this. It was bad enough I fucking smelled Hartley when I saw him. Who sniffed people? Not me. At least, not unless we were naked, and I inhaled their musk.

I strode from my office and out into the open living room that flowed into the kitchen and dining room. It was empty except for Raiden near the door.

“Can you take Latte out?” I asked. It wasn’t the reason I hired him, but any of my guards would do whatever I asked of them. Raiden was no exception. The dog walker had already been by today, yet Latte was still full of energy.

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