High Test

Chapter 1 Hayden pushed his glasses up his nose and surveyed the spectacle in front of him. Every year it was the same thing at the university’s fundraising rounds. The rich, powerful, and in some cases very sexy, arrived to view the latest projects by the automotive engineering students, along with other departments’ projects. As the various department heads kept saying, this was their time to shine! The students were required to volunteer to work the events of benefit to their departments. It was their job to mix and mingle, answer questions, and boost interest, which in turn would increase patron and alumni donations. Milling about among the displays of concept cars and ten-foot-tall photographs of finished products from past projects—hung suspended from the ceiling—were some of the school’s wealthiest benefactors. They were enjoying a shrimp buffet, fresh fruit and cheese, champagne, and a wide variety of martinis. To one side of the large lobby the project labs opened onto a dance stage. Right now no one was there, but Hayden knew from past experience that the more martinis and champagne the visitors consumed, the more likely there would be dancing. Hayden recognized a few of the guests from the coffeehouse where he worked in the city to help make ends meet. Many of the attendees had businesses in the downtown area of Greenville, South Carolina. He doubted any of those people would recognize him, however. The guy behind the counter of a coffee shop was invisible to most customers. Tonight instead of jeans and a polo shirt bearing the store logo, Hayden wore borrowed clothes. The male student volunteers—and volunteer was a loose term; they were more like slave labor—were required to wear suits. Hayden didn’t own a suit. Fortunately for him his best friend was in the art program, focusing on fashion. Rick was straight as an arrow, always well dressed and ridiculously happy to help Hayden spruce up when the need arose. He had been able to borrow a tux from Rick, though he’d also had to suffer through an apology that the outfit was two years behind in fashion. Honestly, Hayden couldn’t tell the difference and was simply happy it fit and met the requirement. Picking up a chocolate martini—and dear heavens, when did someone invent those sinful things?—Hayden took a healthy gulp and made his way around the room. “Talk to these people. Tell them all about the projects. Get their interest,” Hayden mumbled under his breath as he edged closer to the growing crowd. “Pretend they’re customers.” That was the advice Rick had given him, and it was good advice. Rick was everything Hayden was not. He was outgoing and personable. Everyone flocked to him. Hayden, on the other hand, always felt awkward in social situations, shy, and the only thing he seemed able to talk about was his work. Too bad Rick couldn’t have come tonight instead of Hayden. At least he could entertain himself watching all the beautiful people and enjoy the soft music being played in the background. One couple in particular caught Hayden’s eye. They walked arm in arm through the long tables showcasing model cars from the earliest years of automobiles on up to what they might look like in the future. The man was pointing out different reproductions and stopping to read the information cards associated with them. It was clear the woman wasn’t very interested. She was probably simply indulging the man. They seemed friendly with each other, but not as if they were in love. Hayden leaned to the side for a better look and noted that neither wore a wedding ring. The man caught Hayden watching him and smiled softly, raising his glass in Hayden’s direction. “Oh s**t,” Hayden whispered and turned away. He’d been caught staring. Mortified, he sucked in a breath and finished off his martini. “You really shouldn’t drink,” he reminded himself. Moving behind one of the hanging prints, Hayden peeked out at the man, wondering about him. Was he really interested in concept cars or was this merely an opportunity for a tax write-off? At first glance, Hayden would have sworn the man was gay and had been staring back. Usually his gaydar was reliable as hell, but there was that woman. That’s when an epiphany hit Hayden. Maybe she was his sister. Hayden put his head down and slipped into the food-prep area that had been set up for the event. He grabbed a new tray of fruit and cheese and carried them to the nearest table, ridiculously relieved when he saw the man standing with his back to him. Hayden mentally dubbed the man Mr. Silver GQ and stole glances at him, taking in how he moved. Mr. Silver GQ was one of those older guys who was probably sexier now than he had been in his twenties. Hayden hoped he’d be one of those men. This guy was tall, several inches over Hayden’s six feet, he guessed, with the sort of grace that came with years of some variety of athletic training. Maybe he played soccer or baseball in college, a scholarship player who still enjoyed a weekend game. Hayden could fill a lot of time fantasizing about how GQ would look in soccer shorts or those skintight baseball pants. After quickly arranging his platter on the laden table, Hayden turned, intending to slip back into the crowd. If the professors didn’t see him engaging in conversation with the guests he’d never hear the end of it. They claimed it was good training for the time when he’d have to deliver presentations. However, there was a huge difference between chatting with people who didn’t understand his work and giving an exposition to those who did. Swallowing his shyness, Hayden straightened his jacket, pushed his glasses into place, and stepped out from behind the table. He focused on a group of three elderly people wearing pleasant enough expressions. “Them. I’ll try them. They look easy to talk to.” At least he wasn’t as likely to make a fool of himself, since he could pretend he was gabbing with his grandmother and her friends. Hayden got closer, trying to figure out the best way to break the ice and start a conversation. He grabbed another martini on the way, figuring liquid courage was just what he needed. “Are you enjoying yourselves?” Hayden asked a lady with pearls, bluish hair, and a wrist full of gold bangles. “Oh yes.” The woman laid her hand on Hayden’s forearm. “This is all so interesting!” She glanced over Hayden’s shoulder and waved at someone across the room. “What’s your name, dear?” “Hayden Owens.” He peered at one of his professors, who was standing off to the side with other guests. She wouldn’t be able to hear their conversation, so Hayden was safe for now. “Would you like to hear more about the projects here?” “I appreciate the aesthetics, but I know someone who’d love to know more.” The woman beckoned to someone behind Hayden. “Neal, I’m so glad to see you here. You don’t get out enough. I think you’d love speaking with this young man. He’s just now joined us, and I’m afraid I have to chat with Stephen’s instructors. Talk to this young man, Hayden Owens. He seems to be here all alone.” Hayden turned around, fully expecting to see another man roughly the age of his grandparents. Instead he was gazing into Mr. Silver GQ’s—Neal’s—face. “H-hi. Hello.” Neal smiled broadly, and Hayden’s heart skipped a beat. Hayden took in Neal’s thick, stylish hair, dark with luscious silver strands sprinkled liberally throughout. He could run his hands through that luxurious mane all day—and night—long. Neal had pleasant light brown skin, indicating some Asian Indian heritage perhaps. His dark, smoldering eyes appraised Hayden calmly. “Mr. Owens.” Neal held out one hand. “I’m Neal Kirchner.” “H-Hayden. I’d be happy to show you the projects, Mr. Kirchner.” Hayden’s heart hammered wildly. Why of all the people here did that woman have to know this man and call him over? “First of all, my name is Neal.” He bowed his head toward the elderly lady. “And Mirabel, you let me know when you’re ready to leave.” Neal leaned closer to Hayden and whispered, “I’m afraid I was coerced into coming here tonight.” He winked at Mirabel. Hayden snorted. “I know the feeling.” She waved one hand at him. “Pish posh, it’s the only way to get you out.” Mirabel took Hayden’s arm again and gave it a squeeze. “All Neal ever does is work.” She smiled and then hurried away, presumably in search of the unknown Stephen’s professors. “Let’s look around, shall we?” “Sure.” Hayden let himself be steered away from the crowd. Neal smiled and seemed to relax as they walked. “One of the experts the university snags for these things, eh?” Hayden nodded distractedly. He was about to suggest they look around one of the project labs when he realized Neal was guiding them in that direction already. “I see you know where the interesting displays are.” Hayden glanced down and realized he wasn’t wearing the name tag that indicated he was a student. “Mirabel is a family friend,” Neal explained. “She thinks I won’t go to any event that interests me without her arranging it. I’m sorry, I should have asked. Are you really here alone? Mirabel jumps to conclusions.” Hayden chuckled softly. “She was right this time. Just me.” “Well, how do you like it? These things are interesting, but I can’t really say they’re a lot of fun.” Neal shrugged. “I suppose the university feels it’s necessary to show off to the alumni.” “True. If they don’t exhibit what they do, how can they ask for money from donors?” They moved around the lab and stopped to view a few of the presentations and the items used to demonstrate a complicated design concept. Hayden felt as if he should at least try to explain some details of the projects. He talked about the process of developing high-end engines and vehicles from the drawing board to completion. Here with plans and design concepts, Hayden was in his element. He felt more relaxed, and it was easy to let his enthusiasm take over. Neal’s eyes were on him the entire time, and every few minutes he’d brush his hand down Hayden’s back or touch his arm. “I understand what it’s like to love your work. I feel the same way,” Neal commented as they moved to another classroom. “In here is where the new students begin. They work on developing skills with paper and computer design,” Hayden explained. He expected Neal to become bored any second, but he simply seemed to become more interested. “I’m an architect and use many of these same tools. Architecture and car design are simply different aspects of the same theory.” Hayden grinned, finished his martini, and practically gushed, “Yes, yes they are. Imagine my good luck to meet a man who speaks my language.” He cringed inwardly. That sounded too much like a pickup line heard in a bar. “Imagine that,” Neal said softly and put his hand on Hayden’s shoulder for a few seconds. Once they’d made the rounds, Hayden expected Neal to politely excuse himself to join the woman he’d arrived with. As they left the classrooms and began strolling back to the lobby and buffet, Neal glanced around before focusing on Hayden again. “It seems I’ve been stood up.” He laughed a little. “Thank goodness Grace’s husband finally showed up.” “Grace? Was that the lady you were with?” Neal nodded. “My cousin. She and Roger, her husband, are Mirabel’s guests for the weekend for a family function. I was simply their ride.” “Are you an alumnus?” “No. I went to school in New York. My family home is there.” Neal paused when they came to the bar. He dipped his head at Hayden’s empty glass and asked, “Another one?” Hayden’s head said he shouldn’t. His mouth opened and cheerfully announced, “Yes, I’d like that.” He wanted to ask what brought Neal to South Carolina, but the words didn’t want to come out of his mouth. “Tell me, what made you decide on automotive design?” Neal asked while they waited for their drinks. When Hayden smiled softly, Neal’s lovely eyes lit up. He leaned one elbow against the bar and gave Hayden his complete attention. “Ever since I was little I loved cars. Muscle cars and antique cars are cool, but the ones I liked more were the high-performance and luxury cars.” Hayden shrugged. “I figured out the best way to own the perfect car was to create it. Every year for my birthday, my parents would take me to a big automotive museum near where we lived. They had a display about design, and that’s how I got the idea and started looking into schools. Don’t get me wrong, the foreign cars are great, but I always dreamed of creating spectacular American cars. I mean, hello, Henry Ford was born here. I wanted my name on one too.” “Yes, he was,” Neal chimed in. “As were the Dodge brothers and a few other important figures in that industry.” He motioned toward the buffet. “I could use a bite to eat. How about you?” The evening wore on, and the crowds thinned out. Hayden glanced covertly at his watch. He’d be walking home if he didn’t leave soon. His duty had ended two hours after he’d arrived. That was all the time he was required to work, but he’d been here nearly four hours with Neal. He knew the night would have to end, but he sure didn’t want it to. Hayden hoped Neal wasn’t one of those rich people who came in here to hit on the younger, less affluent—that is, broke and nearly starving—students. Hayden hadn’t gotten that impression, but a few hours was a short time to judge someone. “Would you like to dance?” Neal stood up and held out one hand. Hayden blinked. “Dance?” Did he really have to sound so awkward and clueless? “I’m sorry, I misread you. I thought—” “No. I mean, yes, I’d love to dance.” Hayden jumped up. “I’m not very good at it.” “I almost never meet someone at these things I enjoy spending time with. Usually all the guests are already attached. This must be our lucky night.” Neal put one hand on Hayden’s elbow as they walked to the raised dance floor. No one was there, which was unusual and made Hayden ridiculously happy. There would be no disapproving glances from the less liberal attendees. Since Neal had casually worked into their conversation that he was from New York, Hayden took that as a hint he was comfortable with things like dancing in public with another man. The music was piped in, but it was soft and easy to slow dance to. Hayden was feeling the effects of the martinis he’d had and was slightly off-balance. Neal chuckled when Hayden stumbled slightly and slipped one arm around Hayden’s waist. Hayden took the opportunity to lean more against Neal, and he had a very nice body to use for support. Neal might have been a good twenty years older than Hayden, but he was muscular under his expensive, tailored suit. Hayden ran his hand over Neal’s arm and across the bulge of his shoulder. The scent of Neal’s cologne swirled around in Hayden’s head and mingled with the music. The combination conspired to lower Hayden’s defenses. He leaned more heavily against the warmth of Neal’s body and appreciated the strong arms around him. Neal bent his head and hummed softly in Hayden’s ear. Their hands moved slowly over each other, touching and caressing. Hayden pressed closer as Neal’s hand roamed over his shoulders, down his spine, and over the curve of his ass. They swayed together to the music and kept on even when the music changed. The lights were being turned off when Neal took Hayden’s face in both hands and kissed him. At first it was chaste and sweet. Neal’s lips were just the right combination of firm and soft, and he tasted of martinis. Hayden decided he really liked martinis. Taking a chance, Hayden parted his lips ever so slightly, and Neal took the invitation, slipping his tongue into Hayden’s mouth. They spent a minute slowly exploring. Neal’s teeth were smooth, his tongue firm and moist, and it gave Hayden the shivers as it roamed over his own tongue. He sighed into Neal’s kiss and appreciated his broad chest all over again. Hayden cracked one eye open and caught a glimpse of the night through the large windows they were in front of. He saw ghosts of their reflection, and beyond that headlights turning up the long drive. It was drizzling rain, and the rivulets of water made little rainbows when hit by the light. The only vehicles that normally came along that particular drive were service vehicles for the university and public transportation. Lights from public transportation. Bus. My bus! Panic surged through Hayden. He had to get on that bus. If he didn’t, he would spend all night walking home. He’d be late for work tomorrow. He needed that job. Breaking their kiss, Hayden backed up. “I-I’m sorry. You’re a great guy. I have to go.” Neal wore a perplexed expression. “But I can—” Hayden ran toward the door but then stopped and turned around long enough to gasp out, “I’ll call you!” It barely registered when Neal responded, “But you don’t have my number.” Hayden bolted from the building. He knew a shortcut and dodged to the right as soon as he was clear of the door, running full out. As he took the turn that would put him at the bus stop, hopefully in time, he slipped on the wet pavement and barely regained his balance. The bus stopped, and its position would block anyone looking from the reception area of the building from seeing who was boarding. “Wait, wait!” Hayden waved and yelled and got his hand on the bus door with mere nanoseconds to spare. After showing the driver his pass, Hayden staggered down the aisle and collapsed into a seat. He slumped, gulping for air, and finally pulled out his phone. He stared at it in horror as Neal’s farewell words registered in his head. “I never gave him my number or got his.” Hayden was too tired and buzzed to punch the seat in front of him, but he sure wanted to.