Page 52 of Heat Clinic

“We’re meeting someone,” Sam says. “I’m not sure if they’re already here. The name is Orello.”

She checks her list, her smile brightening. “Right this way. Would you like to use our complimentary coat check?” She brings us to a stop by the coat check kiosk, and Sam hands over his leather jacket and helmet. If they find the whole thing odd, they don’t let on.

The moment I see Marcus and Tom sitting at a white tablecloth covered table and drinking a glass of wine it’s like all the wind is knocked out of me at first glance. Like I can’t breathe because they’re so beautiful. It’s the same feeling you get when you see a stunning painting or a perfect sunset.

Sam’s hand at the small of my back keeps me walking forward. When they see us coming, they stand and Marcus moves to pull my chair out for me to sit.

“This restaurant is lovely,” I say as the hostess leaves us.That’s a lot of forks for one setting. Are these all mine?The menu is a single piece of printed paper set on my stack of five plates.Why are there so many empty plates? Rich people are weird.

“A client took me here for our meeting and I quite enjoyed the meal,” Marcus says in his deep, rumbly voice.

I don’t know where to look. They’re all so handsome in their own way, and being surrounded by all three of them is a bit like staring into the sun. So I stare at the menu as if I need to keep re-reading the same seven main courses they offer.

“What do you do for work?” Sam asks them.

“Marcus is in finance, and I’m a photographer,” Tom answers.

“I manage brokerage accounts. I followed in my father’s footsteps,” Marcus adds. “That’s actually how Tom and I met. My father worked for his. They were kind enough to let us use their carriage house in England for the summers when we went over to visit family. Tom and I got up to a lot of mischief in those days.”

I can almost picture it. A young Marcus and Tom running about the English countryside. Probably catching frogs and sticking them in someone’s bed. “That sounds lovely.”

Tom snorts and adjusts his tie, leaning back in his seat. “Lovely? Hardly. He tried to drown me.”

Marcus sighs. “I convinced him to help me take the old boat out onto the lake so we could stargaze and we fell asleep in it. It turns out it wasn’t seaworthy anymore. It sank. While we were still in it.” He turns in his seat toward Tom. “How was I supposed to know you couldn’t swim?”

Their banter makes me smile. You can tell that they tell this story often. That it’s a fond memory of a misbegotten youth.

“What do you do for work, Emily?” Tom asks, ignoring the question. He takes a sip of wine and sets his glass down.God, his eyes are piercing.They’re so green they’re hard to hold.

“I work in an office. It’s not really exciting. I’m a member manager for an insurance company. It’s mostly phone calls and paperwork. But you’re a photographer? That’s so cool. What kind of photos do you take?”

“Nudes.”

“Umm.” I busy myself with taking a sip of water while my face burns.

“Behave,” Marcus growls under his breath.

The sound of his deep, rumbly voice pitching that low reminds me of our time together during my heat. I remember it in snippets that are jumbled. But I distinctly recall that voice. I fidget in my seat and find myself growing damp, and I’m grateful I ignored Sam’s suggestion and wore the slick panties. I stare at the bread basket and fidget as I wonder if it’s bad enough that I need to excuse myself to the ladies’ room to mop it up with some toilet paper.

“I am,” Tom says, sounding huffy. “I didn’t tell her whatsortof nudes.”

“I definitely want to see them,” Sam says, digging into the bread basket and ripping a roll open before slathering it in butter. He takes a huge bite and chews.

“I’ll send you some links,” Tom says.

Our waiter comes by and saves me from the discussion as he takes our order and tops off our carafe of water. The conversation stalls even after the waiter leaves to put our order in.

“Emily wants a baby,” Sam says suddenly.

Marcus chokes on his wine, coughing, while my mouth drops and I stare at Sam in shock and horror with my jaw on the floor.

“Sometimes it’s better to rip the bandaid off, baby. Otherwise, we were gonna dance around the elephant in the room the entire meal, and I really want to enjoy my steak.”

“We’ve discussed it,” Tom says. “First, I want to apologize for how we… handled that. We should have been more prepared. This is new to us, and we’re flailing in the dark a bit, but that’s no excuse.”

“No, it was my fault,” Marcus says. “I should have kept my wits about me better instead of getting rut for brains. I’m sorry that we initiated that conversation so tactlessly.” He grabs Tom’s hand, threading their fingers together. “We talked, and we decided it was something we’d like if you’re open to it.”

Tom puts his other hand on top of theirs and squeezes. “We almost adopted once, you know. We had the paper for the agency filled out, but… we work and travel so much. There never seemed to be a good time. But there never will be, will there? It’s something you need to do and trust you’ll figure it out as you go. And we’ll hire a nanny, of course, to help. I know I gave you the impression this was a thing I was against, and I’m not. I needed to feel like I’m a part of the decision-making process. Especially something as important as children.”

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