Page 11 of He's the One

Asquith had done better financially since Dastardly had taken over, but they still weren’t making as much money as they could because they were losing out to other venues. Some of Theo’s suggestions had been good ones, but no one thought he did anything right. All they felt when they looked at him was disappointment to be stuck with him as the heir, a position he shouldn’t have and didn’t want.

Theo looked again at the information he’d taken out. He was going to give it to his father anyway. He fastened it together with a bulldog clip and added a sheet to the front on which he wroteFather. Please have another look at this. I really think there are ideas worth considering. Theo.

On his way back with the folder, he walked past the East Wing that had been undergoing renovation for months. He glanced up at the scaffolding. It made him feel queasy to see people working at that height. It was costing a small fortune to get the East Wing repaired, but they looked to be doing a good job. Not that he’d been up there to check. He shuddered at the thought.

“Look out!”

Theo half-turned at the shout, only to find himself and his folder brought down in a hard rugby tackle. He yelped as a guy landed half on top of him, just as a block of stone shattered right where he’d been standing. Fragments flew in all directions.Shit!He instinctively turned his face away, right into the guy’s chest and inhaled—a mixture of aftershave, rock dust and sweat.Oh, that’s…nice.

“Are you okay?” asked the man he was part-lying beneath.

Theo looked up into concerned bright blue eyes fringed with thick lashes and a jolt of lust hit him right where he didn’t want it. Not at that precise moment, anyway. Slight scruff, dark hair peeping from under a yellow hard hat, kissable lips…Bank it all, brain!

“Are you okay? Anything broken?”

Theo was winded, along with being shocked, but he was all right. Though maybe the agony of broken ribs had been overpowered by the strength of his Lust. That definitely needed a capital L.

The guy rolled off and stood up.

No! Too soon! Roll back.

“Please tell me you have no important bits damaged,” the man said.

A few years older than me. Taller than me.Or was that because Theo was lying down.

“Are you at least still breathing?”

Theo tried to speak and sucked in air.

“I do believe that was the sound of lungs being filled. That’s a relief.” The guy smiled down at Theo who still lay on his back like a helpless bug. While he was recovering, he ogled. There was more ogling than recovering. At least he had a good excuse to lie there.

It took him a moment to put together what had happened. He hadn’t been knocked off his feet by a prince saving him from a swooping dragon. Still a recurring dream even now he’d grown up, though he was never going to tell anyone that. Instead, a piece of stone had fallen from the roof and almost hit him. If this blue-eyed hero hadn’t pushed him out of the way, he might have been killed.Fuck!His lungs locked again.

“Can’t you speak?” the guy whispered. “I know a bit of sign language.”

Say something!“That was the best rugby tackle of my entire life.”

That earned him a laugh.

Theo tried again. “I used to run the other way at school if I thought someone was going to throw me the ball.” Even when Theo had accidentally caught it and Kenneth Baxter, his senior school crush, had chased him, Theo had still bolted in case…Oh God. My cock. No!The thought of being seen to be aroused was enough to un-arouse him and he struggled to get up in order to disguise what had to be clearly evident in his trousers.

The guy put out his hand and Theo grasped his fingers.

“You saved my life. Thank you.”

The guy glanced at the remains of the stone as he hauled Theo to his feet. “Maybe I did.”

Do we have to rule out the need for mouth to mouth? Theo wished he had the courage to say that out loud.

“You’re bleeding.” The man let go of his hand and looked panicked.

“Oh God. Where? A lot?” Theo frantically checked himself.

“Your cheek.”

Theo brushed his fingers across his cheek and looked at the small smear of red. “Er…”

“It’s just a scratch.”

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