Marry Me Read online

  lapped at his slit and milked him. “You do that so well.”

  “Excellent. Maybe I’ll be invited back.”

  Braxton met Dominic’s brown eyes. “Let me buy you dinner.

  In thanks.” He caressed Dominic’s hair.

  “That’s great. Thank you.” Dominic knelt upright as Braxton

  tucked his cock inside his briefs and zipped his pants.

  “My pleasure.” He stood and fastened his belt. “How about

  Thai food?”

  “Sounds great.” Dominic followed Braxton out of his office.

  Braxton made sure he shut everything off, and took his jacket

  from the back of his chair, putting it on. “What is it you do?”

  “Go-go boy at Yo-man’s in Silverlake.”

  Braxton allowed Dominic to enter the elevator first and

  smiled at him, regretting the invitation to dinner. He was already

  anticipating the begging for a big break and representation.

  ~

  This was why all Braxton wanted was sex.

  Though Braxton feigned interest, in reality, he was bored. He

  ate his dinner, nodding and smiling at Dominic’s stories of job

  offers to be an actor or model, and though he didn’t mind the

  company too much, Braxton would sooner have had his meal in

  his condo in Santa Monica, alone.

  He ended the dinner when it felt polite and not abrupt and

  waved goodbye to Dominic, reminding himself to stop hooking

  up with men, since Braxton lost interest immediately after the

  sex.

  Home, finally, in his luxury two bed, two bath condo,

  walking distance to the Promenade, Braxton hung up his suit to

  bring to the cleaners over the weekend, then recalled the charity

  event Sophia had roped him into. Auctioned off? Given to

  people as a date?

  Braxton brushed his teeth wearing only his briefs and stared

  into his hazel eyes. He knew why people would bid for him. But

  he didn’t want the ordeal of fending off sexual advances from

  horrible individuals who wanted him to be a gigolo not a date for

  a cancer charity. Yeah, Sophia said he wasn’t expected to have

  sex, but Braxton knew how that went.

  Money.

  He could never be bought. Never. Even when men offered to

  bail him out when the economy tanked and his business teetered.

  Offers came in for Braxton to give up his own company and

  work for someone else. He was best on his own. He’d been that

  way all his life.

  Thinking about how hard his past was and needing to talk to

  someone, Braxton finished getting ready for bed. He picked up

  his cordless phone, sat on his bed and pointed his remote at the

  flat-screen TV he had in a wall unit in his bedroom. The late

  night comedy shows were a favorite of his, so he sat up against

  the headboard on his pillows and pushed a speed dial button,

  connecting to the only person in his life he trusted.

  “Hi, Braxton. What’s up?”

  “Is it too late? I had a shitty date for dinner and I need a real

  person to talk to.” Braxton split his attention between Jon

  Stewart to his conversation with Brianna.

  “You are so weird.”

  “I know. Do you and your hubby want to come to the black

  tie charity auction this Saturday?”

  “Why? Getting cold feet?”

  “No. Just would be nice to have a friendly face there.” He

  muted the sound when a commercial break came up.

  “We can’t, Brax. Sorry. But I have a bet with him that you’ll

  bring in twice as much money as the trip to Hawaii.”

  He heard her laugh and smiled to himself. “Betting on a

  charity auction. Yeah, that’s all you, Brianna.”

  “It’s just a day to take care of the kid and do the laundry.

  Some bet, huh.”

  Braxton could hear her husband say something in the

  background but didn’t understand what it was, though he could

  imagine. “So?” Braxton asked, “You think I’ll be bought by men

  or women?”

  “Both.”

  “I spoke to Sophia…” He ran his hand over his hair and

  ignored the advertisements that seemed to get longer each year,

  with less and less of the actual programs. “I warned her this was

  only dinner. I have a feeling for the money they are going to get

  for me, that—”

  “Don’t worry, Braxton. You’re a big boy and can obviously

  set the rules. They know you’re not a gigolo.”

  Braxton smiled. “No. Though I’m handsome enough.”

  She laughed. “I always said you should be the model. Not the

  PR behind-the-scenes guy.”

  “I don’t have to. I seem to appear in every LA rag as it is.”

  “You do. Always on the arm of some starlet or macho man. It

  makes me laugh. You get more free publicity than our clients get

  for a fee.”

  “I was thinking about Botox. Take a good look and tell me if

  you think I can use it when you see me in the morning.”

  “Shut up. You look so good I don’t think you need it yet. I

  mean, men can get away with lines, not like women.”

  Braxton appreciated Brianna’s opinion. “I have that red

  carpet premiere the same night as the auction. I completely

  forgot, and now I have to be at both.”

  “They don’t start those auctions ‘til late. Don’t worry. You

  always manage to get everything done, Brax.”

  “I can’t believe how swamped we are at work. I swear the

  difference from now and two years ago is amazing.”

  “I know, right? You were thinking of hanging it up then. I

  remember. I’m glad we stuck it out.”

  Braxton put the sound back on as the program resumed. “I

  won’t keep you. I know you’re probably sitting with the laptop

  answering emails right now.”

  “Hey! Are you spying on me?” She laughed. “Just a few. I’m

  really beat.”

  “Don’t worry about it. It’ll wait until morning.”

  “It’s my job. See ya tomorrow.”

  “See ya.” Braxton hung up and smiled, snuggling into his bed

  to enjoy the show until he felt drowsy and fell asleep.

  Chapter 2

  Friday morning, after a six am workout at an upscale spa with

  Tyson Hopper, his personal trainer, Braxton showered and

  adjusted his tie in the mirror in the locker room. He stared at his eyes, which some days looked green, other days gold. He ran his

  fingers through his hair, never using gel on it and enjoying its

  natural fullness, which covered his ears but wasn’t long enough

  to brush his shoulders. He was tempted to allow it to grow long.

  He had as a youth and it seemed the tide in LA was turning from

  shaven heads back to full luxurious locks, thanks to a

  supermodel named Mark Richfield.

  Braxton had yet to meet the man face to face, though he had

  seen his advertisements and billboards all over So-Cal. He had

  dabbed Mark’s trademark cologne Dangereux onto his neck and wrists and sniffed it. The mix of spice and musk made his dick

  move in his pants. He shot himself a dazzling grin and then left

  the locker room, making sure his phone was charged, his suit

  jacket folded over his arm, and his Bluetooth in his ear.

  Th
e workout leaving him energized and pumped for a good

  day, he hopped into his gold Porsche and backed out of the

  parking space to hit the road to downtown LA.

  He made a call on his way. “Brianna?”

  “Yes, dear,” she replied teasing.

  “You already pick up the espressos?”

  “I always do. Got you a yogurt and granola breakfast too,

  since I figured you always come straight from the gym.”

  “Love you.” Braxton slowed for a traffic signal as he drew

  closer to the highway and his ‘fun’ commute to downtown from

  the gym. It was hit and miss traffic-wise, mostly miss.

  “I bet you say that to all the efficient wonderful assistance.”

  “I do. Oh, speaking of that…”

  “Yes. I placed an ad last night and do you believe my inbox is

  already full of resumes?”

  “Damn!” He entered the highway ramp and took a glance at

  the road ahead of him. Heavy flowing cars but no one at a dead

  stop, thank fuck. “You know what we’re looking for?”

  “I expect someone with experience.”

  “Yes, but I’ll take good potential, trainable. Sometimes the

  ones who’ve worked in this business have big egos.”

  “Imagine that.”

  “Shut up. See ya in twenty, traffic’s not too bad.”

  “See ya.”

  He disconnected his call, surprised. The internet had one heck

  of a networking system. It alerted job hunters instantly when

  new leads were posted, and Braxton was always impressed with

  Brianna’s efficiency. But then again, hiring a body to help her

  was a top priority for the woman.

  A half hour later, he parked in his reserved spot, grabbed his

  jacket and put it on as he headed to the elevator. A young lady

  who had entered the elevator before him noticed him hustling to

  catch it and held back the door for him.

  “Thanks.” He hopped on and pushed the button for the tenth

  floor.

  “My pleasure.” She gave him a flirtatious smile and

  immediately checked his left hand…presumably for a wedding

  ring. Women did that. Men never did. It made him chuckle.

  “Which office do you work for?” she made small talk.

  “My own. I work in PR.” He adjusted his tie as they

  ascended.

  “Anyone ever tell you you have beautiful eyes?”

  Yes. “Thank you.” He smiled and thought for a moment about

  asking her out, but with the weekend he had planned, he knew it

  would be impossible, then she would get upset he didn’t call,

  blah, blah…same old story.

  She gave him a last smile, as if hoping he would ask, right

  before she left the elevator on the eighth floor. “Well, see you

  around.”

  “See ya.” He waved at her and the door closed.

  Once alone in the elevator, Braxton’s smile fell. He couldn’t

  have a relationship if he wanted to. He simply had no time.

  He entered his office to see Brianna already busy on the

  phone, handing him his coffee cup and yogurt as he passed. He

  threw her a kiss and sipped the espresso, having a feeling she

  warmed it up for him, since it was hot. He set it down next to his

  breakfast, removed his jacket and dove into his work, eating the

  granola yogurt and sipping coffee between.

  By noon Brianna tapped at his door.

  Braxton was in the middle of emailing catering services for

  cast parties when he glanced up. “What’s up, babe?”

  “I’ve narrowed down the candidates for the job. One is

  already scheduled to come in for an interview.” She set a stack of

  paper on the desk.

  He glanced at it. “How much can we afford to pay them?”

  “I left it open. You need to call our accountant…um…now?”

  “Okay.” He leafed through the stack. “Over a dozen. Wow.”

  “Those are the ones I printed. There were thirty in the first

  hour.”

  “Holy crap. At least we can be picky.” He read the names and

  brief summaries of experience. “Okay, let me call Lauren and

  see how much we can swing. I assume we need them full time?”

  “I’m hoping we do. If not…?” She shrugged. “I’ll take

  anything I can get.”

  “Okay.” He checked his watch and already felt rushed. He

  was losing the day and knew his weekend was shot with so many

  events occurring he wouldn’t get anything done. And on

  weekends? None of his contacts worked anyway. Everything

  slowed to a crawl but him.

  He picked up the phone and tapped his fingers on the desk

  impatiently.

  “Lauren Glass, may I help you?”

  “Hey, it’s Braxton. You have a minute?”

  “Sure, what’s up?”

  “How much can we afford to pay a new employee?”

  “Hang on. Can you give me a minute to open your account

  file?”

  He nodded and made a small noise in affirmation, and kept

  typing on his computer as she worked out the numbers.

  ~

  Fabian Rhys had done as much research on Braxton Todd’s

  PR firm as he could online. He located the job opening on

  several LA employment sites and scrambled to get his resume in

  top order and submit it before the listing vanished. The job

  market was still a tough battle and he was sick of temping at

  offices. He wanted a real job, with challenging work, to keep

  him interested.

  Though the actual job requirements were enticing and right

  up his alley, Fabian looked into the owner himself. And was not

  impressed. The tabloids were not favorable to this PR man, and

  it was ironic that an individual who promoted celebrities,

  keeping them in the spotlight and looking good, couldn’t do the

  same for himself. He was portrayed as a conceited, spoiled brat

  who fucked men and women, appearing to be the ultimate

  playboy and heartbreaker.

  “Well, I’m asking for a job, not a date.” But he wasn’t keen

  on working for a dick.

  He adjusted his tie and suit jacket in the rear view mirror of

  his older model Lexus and stuck a breath mint on his tongue. He

  shut off his phone, picked up his briefcase, which had his resume

  in it, even though he had emailed it, and climbed out of his car.

  There was no reason he could not get this job. He was thirty-

  five, had a bachelor’s degree in business administration with a

  minor in computer science. He was adept at everything from

  creating ads and graphics to composing proposals for clients.

  Why he was working at a temp agency? He put it down to the

  bad economy. It was the reason everyone was in the dumps now.

  And he wasn’t ready to take a job for minimum wage simply

  because it was permanent. Not with the resume and experience

  he had to offer.

  He stood a moment and looked up at the high-rise office

  building, its glass and concrete façade. Wind blew strongly down

  the east-west corridor but spring turned to summer quickly in

  LA.

  Inhaling, intending on giving it his best shot, Fabian entered

  the lobby and stood at the elevator. He was ten minutes early, but

  hoped that translated to pu
nctual and reliable, not overeager.

  After riding solo in the elevator to the tenth floor, Fabian read

  the suite numbers on the walls and found the correct one. He ran

  his hand thought his hair, straightened his suit jacket and entered.

  ~

  Braxton spoke to a client as he tapped his computer keyboard

  simultaneously. “I will have to check the schedule, Brad. The

  amount of premieres this month and red carpet—”

  Brianna poked her head into his office, making him lose his

  train of thought. “Hang on, Brad.” He addressed Brianna, “Yes?”

  “I have an applicant here to meet you.” She gave him a

  discreet thumbs-up and peeked behind her.

  “Uh…okay.” He nodded, gestured ‘one minute’ and went

  back to his call. “Look, Brad, let me look into my schedule and

  see when I can fit this in. Can I call you back?”

  “Sure, Braxton. But call me today. You’re impossible to get a

  hold of and your voicemail is always full and rejects my calls.”

  “I know. I’m interviewing for another assistant right now.

  Hopefully that will change.”

  “Hire someone!”

  Annoyed at the scolding, Braxton disconnected the call and

  took off his earpiece, tossing it on his desk in frustration. He

  stood, straightened his tie and suit jacket and ran his hand over

  his hair. Opening the door to his office he immediately spotted a

  strikingly handsome man wearing a designer suit, with

  conservatively cropped brown hair and bright blue eyes.

  The man rose to his feet and extended his hand in greeting.

  Brianna said, “Braxton, this is Fabian Rhys. He’s interested

  in working with us.”

  The handshake was masculine and warm. No clammy palms

  or limp grasp. Braxton met Fabian’s eyes. “Nice to meet you.

  Why don’t you come in and have a seat?” Braxton was handed

  his resume and an application form from Brianna. She gave him

  a look. ‘A look’ that meant she liked Fabian. But hiring the first

  applicant to walk through the door? Yeah, the guy was

  handsome but they needed a hard worker, not a prima donna who

  had an ulterior motive for working there and wanted to be a star.

  Braxton gestured for Fabian to enter first, admiring his ass as

  he did, closing the door behind him. He read the first few lines of the application Brianna had him fill out and saw Fabian was

  thirty-five. Peeking up, he gestured to a chair and said, “Have a

  seat.”