Read Online Men of London 05 - Cross to Bare by Susan Mac Nicol - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Susan Mac Nicol
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checked the time on the wall clock. “He’s only due in half an hour anyway. What’s the rush?”
“Leslie,” Lenny warned.
Leslie huffed and brushed his hair off his forehead. “Fine,” he said. “I’ll go.” He shot what Lenny supposed was to be a fierce glance of pique, but in all honesty was nothing more than an adorably cute expression that made him want to eat Leslie all up. He really didn’t know how Oliver could resist anything the man did.
Lenny busied himself looking over his projections and accounts, making sure he was ready. He lost track of time until a sharp knock at the door made him look up. His stomach plummeted to the floor and his heart beat erratically in his tightened chest.
What the hell was Brook doing here?
“Boss, Mr Hunter is here so I thought I’d bring him over personally. I’ve already introduced myself.” Leslie graciously waved Brook to a seat right in front of the desk. “May I get you tea or coffee, or a soft drink perhaps?”
Brook smiled at Leslie. “No thanks, I’m fine.” He stood, looking at Lenny, obviously waiting for him to stand up so he could shake hands. “It’s lovely to meet you, Ms Debussy-Smith.”
Lenny was stuck to his seat as if he’d grown roots.
What the fuckity-fuck do I do now? If he hears my voice, he might recognise me.
“Laverne?” Leslie’s voice was uncertain. “Are you okay?”
Lenny swallowed and closed his eyes briefly. He’d never done a Mrs Doubtfire before but he was sure as hell going to give it a try now and hope Leslie didn’t mess it up for him.
“Good afternoon, Mr Hunter,” he said chirpily, as he stood up, raising his normal voice an octave—or two. From the dropping of Leslie’s jaw and the widening eyes he thought he might have overdone it.
“Oh please, call me Brook. I like to be a little less formal than my other colleagues, if that’s all right with you? I’ve been looking forward to meeting the legend that is Laverne Debussy-Smith. Your name is stellar in this industry from what I’ve heard.” His voice was admiring, not sounding at all to Lenny as if he was trying to curry favour with compliments. They shook hands.
Lenny heard Leslie’s squeak of panic at hearing Brook’s first name and for a second, the two of them stared at each other as understanding for the reason for this new voice dawned in Leslie’s eyes.
Lenny found his composure. “Please sit down. And yes, please call me Laverne. Have you been offered something to drink? Oh of course, you have. Sorry, I’m away with the fairies it looks like. It must be something in the water…” His voice tailed off.
Shut the fuck up. The man’s looking at you as if you’re a loon.
Brook sat down and laid his briefcase at the side of his chair. Lenny fiddled with the papers on his desk, trying not to make eye contact.
The man looks good. That suit looks fabulous on him. He’s a walking Adonis and he’s sitting here IN MY FUCKING OFFICE!
Leslie sat down nervously in the chair next to Brook and stared at him with bush baby eyes. “Er, I thought your business card said your name was Si—Simon?” he stammered.
That’s exactly what I want to know about too. And when Brook said he was in finance, I had no idea it was this sort.
Brook chuckled, the sound stirring Lenny’s groin and he was horrified at the slow swelling of his dick. He put a surreptitious hand under the table to press against it as he repeated all the mantras that had helped him out in situations like this before. He’d never had to think of them all at one time before though.
Fat old men with lady titties in steam rooms. Jabba the Hut—naked. Jar Jar Binks in my bed, in a cotton floral nightdress.
“Oh, I always have to explain this. Yes, my name is Simon Brook Hunter, but I don’t like it. I got teased far too often at school with the whole ‘Simon Says’ thing. So I use my middle name. But someone forgot to tell my boss’s secretary, and she went ahead and
“Leslie,” Lenny warned.
Leslie huffed and brushed his hair off his forehead. “Fine,” he said. “I’ll go.” He shot what Lenny supposed was to be a fierce glance of pique, but in all honesty was nothing more than an adorably cute expression that made him want to eat Leslie all up. He really didn’t know how Oliver could resist anything the man did.
Lenny busied himself looking over his projections and accounts, making sure he was ready. He lost track of time until a sharp knock at the door made him look up. His stomach plummeted to the floor and his heart beat erratically in his tightened chest.
What the hell was Brook doing here?
“Boss, Mr Hunter is here so I thought I’d bring him over personally. I’ve already introduced myself.” Leslie graciously waved Brook to a seat right in front of the desk. “May I get you tea or coffee, or a soft drink perhaps?”
Brook smiled at Leslie. “No thanks, I’m fine.” He stood, looking at Lenny, obviously waiting for him to stand up so he could shake hands. “It’s lovely to meet you, Ms Debussy-Smith.”
Lenny was stuck to his seat as if he’d grown roots.
What the fuckity-fuck do I do now? If he hears my voice, he might recognise me.
“Laverne?” Leslie’s voice was uncertain. “Are you okay?”
Lenny swallowed and closed his eyes briefly. He’d never done a Mrs Doubtfire before but he was sure as hell going to give it a try now and hope Leslie didn’t mess it up for him.
“Good afternoon, Mr Hunter,” he said chirpily, as he stood up, raising his normal voice an octave—or two. From the dropping of Leslie’s jaw and the widening eyes he thought he might have overdone it.
“Oh please, call me Brook. I like to be a little less formal than my other colleagues, if that’s all right with you? I’ve been looking forward to meeting the legend that is Laverne Debussy-Smith. Your name is stellar in this industry from what I’ve heard.” His voice was admiring, not sounding at all to Lenny as if he was trying to curry favour with compliments. They shook hands.
Lenny heard Leslie’s squeak of panic at hearing Brook’s first name and for a second, the two of them stared at each other as understanding for the reason for this new voice dawned in Leslie’s eyes.
Lenny found his composure. “Please sit down. And yes, please call me Laverne. Have you been offered something to drink? Oh of course, you have. Sorry, I’m away with the fairies it looks like. It must be something in the water…” His voice tailed off.
Shut the fuck up. The man’s looking at you as if you’re a loon.
Brook sat down and laid his briefcase at the side of his chair. Lenny fiddled with the papers on his desk, trying not to make eye contact.
The man looks good. That suit looks fabulous on him. He’s a walking Adonis and he’s sitting here IN MY FUCKING OFFICE!
Leslie sat down nervously in the chair next to Brook and stared at him with bush baby eyes. “Er, I thought your business card said your name was Si—Simon?” he stammered.
That’s exactly what I want to know about too. And when Brook said he was in finance, I had no idea it was this sort.
Brook chuckled, the sound stirring Lenny’s groin and he was horrified at the slow swelling of his dick. He put a surreptitious hand under the table to press against it as he repeated all the mantras that had helped him out in situations like this before. He’d never had to think of them all at one time before though.
Fat old men with lady titties in steam rooms. Jabba the Hut—naked. Jar Jar Binks in my bed, in a cotton floral nightdress.
“Oh, I always have to explain this. Yes, my name is Simon Brook Hunter, but I don’t like it. I got teased far too often at school with the whole ‘Simon Says’ thing. So I use my middle name. But someone forgot to tell my boss’s secretary, and she went ahead and
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