He saw a covered plate with a Post-it note beside it. Taking an office call then grabbing a shower for myself. Eat.
“You don’t have to tell me twice.” Brady saw the carafe of orange juice and poured some in a large glass with ice before carrying it and his plate to the living room. He’d been here before, though he’d spent most of his time across the hall in Tanaka’s office—basically a studio apartment filled with computer towers, monitors and the kind of surveillance equipment that would make any super spy envious.
Ken didn’t just own a downtown loft in a refurbished three-story warehouse—he owned and lived in the entire building. The first time Brady followed him here and saw his living space, he’d wondered aloud if the Scottish-Japanese technophile wanted to be Batman.
“You already have the lair, the finances and the right equipment,” he’d said.
“Why do you ask? Do you have a fetish for rich men in masks?” Ken asked, smiling that angelic smile.
“I don’t have fetishes,” Brady responded quickly. “But he isn’t my type. He’s got a cave full of baggage and relies on toys instead of natural talent. Give me Superman any day.”
Tanaka’s expression had changed, a flash of irritation mixed with hunger. “He’s got plenty of natural talent,” he’d muttered before changing the conversation back to the Finn family’s Burke problem.
Sitting on the leather couch, Brady set his glass on the coffee table and dug into his vegetable omelet and crisp bacon while studying the loft with fresh eyes. It was big enough to fit a car inside and still have room for a party. So much open space for one man, though the way it was laid out created the feel of several rooms without the use of hallways or closed doors.
The man who hacked into other people’s private lives obviously didn’t feel the need for his own privacy—either that or his decorator was one of those Peeping Toms from the club. There wasn’t even a door to his bathroom, just frosted glass blocks forming a partition between it and the living room.
That had given Brady pause…until he’d experienced the shower itself. It seemed to be made with his six-foot-five height and wide frame in mind. A rain showerhead sprouted from the ceiling, rather than the wall-mounted type that usually hit him squarely in the chest, and there was plenty of room to turn around. By the time he’d finished, he was considering staying and doing the job for the shower alone.
And that bed… Brady was not a small man, but he’d only taken up half the space on a mattress that was exactly firm enough and covered with sheets that felt like fluffy damn clouds. The mattress and the frame had to be custom made, since for the first time in his life his feet didn’t hang off the end. Call him Goldilocks, but that bed was just right.
He could only imagine what Ken needed with a bed like that. Orgies came to mind. Kinky, BDSM free-for-alls with plenty of lube and restraints to go around. His cock twitched at the thought of Ken and lube, and Brady frowned down at his empty plate, wishing he hadn’t eaten so fast. The food had been delicious and eating would distract him from thinking about sex.
Why did Tanaka have to be so damn perfect at everything? Cool computer genius, athletic martial artist, super sleuth, master chef and—according to Tasha and Owen—king of all things rope related. But those two had no idea where his true talents lay.
Brady exhaled and set down his plate so he could adjust himself through the snug denim as he thought about Ken’s wickedly skilled mouth. He’d had his first taste of that skill at Burke’s. They’d caught each other in the act, both snooping around somewhere they didn’t belong. Brady had set out to test Tanaka, to make sure he wouldn’t run to Burke to tell him the senator’s body man was in his private office. Faster than he’d expected, the casual interrogation had become intimate and laced with sexual innuendo. Before he knew it he was leaning against the desk and Ken was devastating him with his mouth, undoing his pants and leaving Brady too stunned to respond.
It still shocked him when he thought about it. How he’d been drawn to him like a magnet to metal from minute one. Tasha interrupted them just in time and he had to be grateful. One more taste of those talented lips and taunting tongue and Brady would have had Ken Tanaka right there on the floor, without knowing or caring that they were both on the same side. Both working for the feds to trip up their host.
He’d tried to steer clear after that, shaken by his own behavior, and then everything had gone to hell. Tasha ran away and Stephen lost it, and all Brady wanted to do, all he could think about doing for weeks, was fixing it. Luckily, Ken had the same idea.