The Art of the Deal by B.A. Stretke

Author:B.A. Stretke [Stretke, B.A.]
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Publisher: Dreamspinner Press
Published: 2013-04-20T16:00:00+00:00

JASON WEINTAUB had accompanied Coleman on his trip and knocked on his door just after he’d hung up from Sean.

“Come in.” Coleman ushered him in and offered him a drink.

“No, thank you. I just stopped by to see if you wanted to go to the Attic Room. I hear it is the number-one hot spot in the area. I plan on checking it out.” Jason was dressed in his best out-on-the-town outfit—jeans, white cotton shirt, and leather jacket. Everything about him said well-off, out-of-town business man, and that was exactly what he was shooting for. His look showed he was looking for something temporary, yet exciting.

“Sure, why not.” Coleman grabbed his coat and met him at the door. He was still wearing his suit but decided it would do. He didn’t feel like taking the time to change.

“Exactly, why not,” Jason agreed, and together they headed for the Attic Room.

The nightclub was full and noisy, and Jason was in his element. Coleman, on the other hand, realized quickly that he probably should have stayed at the hotel. Several men approached him, but none were made welcome.

“What’s wrong with you?” Jason asked. “That last guy was hot as hell. I would have gone after him myself if I were gay.”

“Be my guest.” Coleman laughed at his friend. “I’m just tired, I guess. Sorry.”

He ended up staying for another hour and then begged off to return to the hotel. “You know you’ll have more fun without me,” he told Jason, who agreed.

On the way back to the hotel, he began to ponder why he was not feeling in the partying mood and decided it was definitely Sean. He began to consider how he would feel if he thought Sean was at a place like the Attic Room while Coleman was in Minneapolis. The thought brought anger and jealousy. He needed to see Sean tomorrow.

Coleman checked out of the hotel and arranged a flight back to Chicago that evening. Staying another night didn’t seem necessary. He left a message for Jason, telling him that he wanted him to do the presentation on Sunday, and explained his departure.

Sean returned to his apartment by eleven, pulled out his sketches from that afternoon, and began to fine-tune them. Coleman had said he wanted to see them when he returned tomorrow, and Sean wanted them to be perfect before he saw them.

The doorbell rang at nine thirty the next morning. Sean was up and preparing pancakes and bacon for breakfast, so he set his spatula aside, wiped his hands, and went to the door.

“Hey, you’re awful early. Thought you weren’t leaving Minneapolis till this afternoon?” Sean graciously led Coleman in and took his jacket. “I’m making breakfast—would you like to join me?”

“Love to.” Coleman took Sean’s hand, pulled him toward him, and gave him a gentle, affectionate kiss. “Good morning.”

Sean smiled and motioned for him to follow him to the kitchen, where he seated Coleman at a small table overlooking the courtyard. Sean brought him a cup of coffee, then went back to making pancakes.

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