On the Clock (Market Garden, #8)

The valet brought the Lamborghini up to the door, and grinned like a little kid as he stepped out of the driver’s seat. “Here’s your car, sir.”

“Thanks.” Blake handed him a twenty, and then climbed into the idling sports car with Jason.

In the passenger seat, Jason leaned back against the headrest and sighed. “Why am I so bloody tired all of a sudden? It’s not even half nine.”

“Jet lag, mi amigo.”

Jason huffed indignantly as only an Englishman could. “Someone needs to do something about that.”

“You won’t hear any arguments from me. Give it another day or so, and you’ll be fine.”

“Mm-hmm. Just in time to go back to London and feel like shit all over again.”

“If it’s any consolation, it’s better going east than west.”

“Is it? Well, that’s promising.” He turned toward Blake and wagged a finger at him. “If you’re wrong, you can consider it an act of war.”

“Uh-huh.” Blake patted Jason’s thigh. “I’ll send out an email to let everyone know the redcoats are coming.”

Jason snorted. “You would, wouldn’t you?”

“Absolutely.” They glanced at each other, and both chuckled. As Blake put the car in gear, he said, “We’ll take it easy tomorrow. Sleep in, chill for the day, and the next one, we’ll go check out some of the touristy stuff.”

“Brilliant. Particularly the sleeping in part.”

“I figured you’d be agreeable.” Blake pulled out of the parking lot and back onto the main road. “Anything you want to see when we go out?”

“The usual things. Times Square. The Statue of Liberty. Central Park.”

Blake nodded. “Can do. Anyone else, I’d be asking how well you like crowds, but you live in London, so . . .”

“Just don’t let me get mugged, please.”

“Oh come on. It’s part of the New York experience!”

Jason eyed him for a moment. “Sometimes I can’t tell if you’re joking.”

“Well, it is part of the New York experience if you’re there long enough, but I’ll try my best to avoid it.”

“Good.” Jason shifted in the passenger seat. “I’m all for experiencing everything a place has to offer, but I do have my limits.” He shifted again, and Blake caught a slight wince.

“You okay?”

“I’m fine.” Jason waved a hand. “Body’s not used to being fucked over a car, apparently.”

“It’s probably something you get used to with practice.”

“If we ‘practice’ that a few times, I won’t tell anyone about that act of jet-lag war.”

Blake slid a hand over Jason’s thigh. “You’ve definitely got yourself a deal.”





When they got back to the house and went to get out of the car, they both groaned, moving gingerly. Thanks to the long flight, Blake’s joints and muscles ached like hell, and Jason didn’t seem to be any better. In fact, although he’d flown before, this trip had clearly hit Jason hard.

Fortunately for them, Blake’s house had just the facility for a couple of travel-weary flyers.

“Oh, this looks lovely.” Jason watched Blake pull the cover off the indoor hot tub. “How do you manage in these living conditions?”

“It’s rough, but . . .” Blake nodded toward the wine and two glasses in Jason’s hands. “That’s why we have those.”

“I see. I suppose a nice cabernet does take the edge off most things, doesn’t it?”

“Exactly. And the water’s perfect, so let’s get in.”

They stripped off their clothes and left them folded neatly on top of the cover.

As Jason slipped into the water, he groaned. “My God.”

“Too hot? Oh, you like it lukewarm, don’t you?”

“This isn’t too hot.” Jason scowled playfully at him. “Unlike the way you shower.”

Laughing, Blake joined him, keeping the bottle and glasses above the water.

“Well, now I’m spoiled.” Jason rested his head against the edge. “I’m going to step off the plane in London, expecting a hot bath in a tub the size of my whole flat, and I’ll be sorely disappointed.” He opened one eye. “I do hope you’re pleased with yourself.”

Blake pursed his lips, eyeing the wineglasses cradled between his fingers. “You know, we did have a bottle at the restaurant. Maybe more wine is a bit much. I could—”

“Pour the fucking wine.”

Blake laughed and poured the fucking wine. They gently clinked their glasses together and settled against the side of the tub, submerged to their collarbones.

“This is definitely what I needed,” Jason said. “Wine and hot water. Love it.”

“It’s usually what the doctor ordered.”

“I can see why.” Jason rolled some wine around in his mouth. “It’s funny. Jared and Tristan said you were amazing in bed. They didn’t say a word about all of this.”

“To be fair, I never brought them home with me.”

“True.”

“I can’t say I’ve ever done anything like this with anyone. Not anyone from Market Garden.”

“So you don’t bring guys like me here often?”

I haven’t met many guys like you.

Blake took a deep swallow of wine, nearly draining his glass. “Never, to be honest.”

“Not even guys you’ve dated?”

“Well, yes. But not . . .” Blake hesitated. “This isn’t going too far, is it?”