At Long Last: Scott and Preston

Chapter 1-1

At Long Last

Chapter 1

The right wall of Preston Reynolds’s office vibrated, shaking the framed awards and diplomas hanging there. Loud bass and percussion pounded from the direction of the room next door.

Across from his desk sat a little old lady with perfectly coiffed gray hair, twisting her gnarled hands and casting glances at the moving wall. Biting her lip, Mrs. Windham shifted in the chair.

Preston cleared his throat and attempted his best reassuring smile. “Sorry about that, Mrs. Windham. Now, then, you needn’t be concerned about your grandson. I’ll go and see him in lockup this afternoon. Everything will be okay.”

She nodded. “I’ve been told Trask and Reynolds is the best at what they do. My grandson is completely innocent, but naturally our family is concerned. So many get railroaded by the courts.”

“I’ll make sure he gets the best defense possible, Mrs. Windham.”

The wall jumped with a particularly loud blast of bass. Mrs. Windham’s startled gaze went once more toward the room next door.

Preston stood and approached her chair, helping her up. “I’ll be in touch as soon as I’ve been to see him. You can call me anytime with that number on the card I gave you.”

Mrs. Windham allowed herself to be ushered out of his office and down the hall to the reception area.

“Wendy, see that Mrs. Windham’s parking charges are waived,” Preston said to the pretty African American receptionist.

“No problem, Mr. Reynolds.”

The double glass doors of the front office opened and Preston’s law partner and best friend, Jack Trask, walked in. The tall blond man dressed in a pinstriped navy suit similar to his own smiled warmly at Mrs. Windham.

“Good morning. Good morning, Preston, Wendy.”

Wendy murmured, “Good morning.” She cast her eyes down at the parking pass Mrs. Windham had handed to her, but not before Preston noticed the sparkle in her dark eyes when her gaze briefly met Jack’s.

“I’ll talk to you later, Mrs. Windham,” Preston said, then walked toward his office. He took a few steps farther and stood outside the closed door of the office blaring rock music.

“Hey, what’s up?” Jack came down the hall, removing his suit jacket. “Something wrong?” He nodded to the closed door.

“This is your brother’s first day, and already he’s a pain in the ass.”

“Yeah, I know it’s going to be an adjustment. Dad insisted we give the kid a chance.”

Kenneth Trask was the third partner in the law firm, but he was semi-retired now. He’d been the one to hire Scott, Jack’s little brother, as a private investigator and accountant for the firm. Preston had been rather surprised, as Ken seemed to feel his youngest son was something of a flake.

“You want me to talk to him?” Jack asked.

“No, I’ll handle it.” Preston reached for the door handle. “Um, something going on between you and Wendy?”

“Why would you ask that?” Jack raised a blond brow.

“Office romances are never a good idea, Jack.”

“Duly noted, but nothing is going on.” Jack rolled his eyes and headed for his own office.

Shrugging, Preston tapped on the door. After a few moments of silence he figured it was unlikely Scott could even hear him. He pounded his fist.

No answer.

He turned the handle.

Scott was flung across the desk in the room on his stomach, his jean-clad ass sticking up, the tops of his cheeks clearly visible. The white T-shirt he wore had bunched up underneath him. His head was missing.

“What the hell?” Preston walked to the stereo on a small table against the wall their offices shared and pushed the OFF button. Silence at last.

Scott’s head shot up from the other side of the desk, by the chair. His face was bright red, and he held a box of paper clips.

“Oh hi, Pres.” Scott lifted himself on his muscular arms, then scooted down the desk, his ass prominently displayed. His feet touched the ground, and he turned to face Preston.

“Mind telling me what you were doing?” Preston asked, ignoring the way his mouth went dry at the display. He was not going to analyze the absurd way he reacted to Scott. No way.

Scott grinned. “I dropped a box of paper clips.”

“Wouldn’t it have been easier…never mind.” Preston shook his head. His gaze raked over Jack’s little brother. It had been years since he’d seen Scott. In fact, the kid was nineteen to his thirty when last he’d been in town. Six years later he was back, and now Ken had given him a job.

Sure, Ken had talked to Preston about it. He could hardly refuse to allow Scott to be hired. Ken had given Preston his own shot there at the firm. But he didn’t have to like it.

Smaller than either his brother or his father, Scott stood maybe an inch shorter than Preston’s own six feet. Scott’s hair was a darker shade of blond than Jack’s too. He had the same violet-blue eyes as the rest of the Trasks.

For some reason Preston had never thought about too carefully, he found Scott to be just about the best-looking man he’d ever seen. Six years ago, he’d even had a few inappropriate dreams about Scott. Wet dreams. Scott was gay, but Preston wasn’t, so there was absolutely no reason to be dreaming of Scott that way. And yet…Preston appreciated the way Scott’s biceps bulged under his thin T-shirt.

“We wear business attire here,” Preston said, indicating Scott’s casual clothing.

“Yeah, yeah. I know. Dad told me. I’m going suit shopping later today.”

“I see. Listen, could you keep the music way down from now on? I had a client in my office this morning.”

Scott tilted his head to the right and hit his left ear.

“What are you doing now?”

“I think I got water in my ear when I showered this morning.” Scott straightened. “Wow, it’s been a while, huh? Two, three years?”

“Six.”

Scott nodded. “Hmm. You shouldn’t be such a stranger, Pres.”

“You’ve been the one living in New York, not me.”

He grinned, showing two dimples. “Oh yeah. Well, anyway, I’m starved. Where are you buying me breakfast?”

“Breakfast? I’m not buying you breakfast. I just came in here to tell you keep it down.”

“Yeah, you are. There’s a diner down the street. I saw it on the way here. We’ll go there.” Scott approached him and pushed him toward the still open door of his office. “You do want me to help prove Mrs. Windham’s grandson innocent, don’t you?”