Keeping House Read online

  Donovan gestured for this latest applicant to precede him down the hall and closed the door behind them. He walked carefully, skirting the unpacked boxes and observing the layers of dust. Donovan strolled behind him, taking in the view as he went. Tight butt, slim legs, straight back, nice swimmers build. Mischa might well have been Phillip, if it weren’t for the Goth garb, piercings, green eyes and black Mohawk, that is.

  Seated at the breakfast bar in the kitchen, he studied his prospective employee. First things first. “How old are you?”

  Mischa shrugged. “I’m twenty. Is there an age requirement for this job?’

  Donovan started to say yes, that would be the easy way out, but the words of the personnel director he’d spent many hours with since his promotion taunted him. Equal opportunity is the law, not a choice, Mr. Holloway. He hummed under his breath instead.

  “So, tell me why you want to work for me.” That should give him pause.

  “I don’t. My brothers dared me to get a job, and it’s been a lot harder than I expected. I just came from a McDonalds where the manager had a guy with a BS cleaning the toilets and an MBA flipping burgers. The economy sucks.” Mischa sounded dejected.

  “Ahh.” He wanted a job on a dare? What the hell? Who told a prospective employer they didn’t want to work for them? “Let me tell you a little about the parameters of the job.”

  Mischa gazed at him quietly, waiting. Maybe the daunting aspects of the task would send the kid the way of the first applicant. “You’ll be responsible for preparing meals. I eat breakfast at six, daily, take a boxed lunch to work, and expect a minimum of a three-course dinner. Sometimes I have guests, and occasionally dinner parties.” He didn’t really, but threw out the possibility anyway. For a moment, he was distracted by the amusing vision of a room full of elegantly clad clients and coworkers staring in horror as a Goth-garbed Mischa, hair spiked and piercings glittering in the candlelight announced that dinner was served.

  “Got it. Cooking. I can do that.” Mischa seemed to be trying to convince himself as much as Donovan of that fact.

  “You’ll have to do the shopping. I don’t have time for things like that. Then there’s the cleaning. I expect the house to be spotless at all times.” He assiduously ignored the fact that the house was currently anything but clean.

  Mischa wasn’t inclined to be so kind, though. He glanced pointedly around the kitchen, at the stack of dirty dishes in the sink, the debris from several takeout meals on the counter tops, and the unpacked boxes of kitchenware. “Okay. Clean. I can do that.”

  “I need the house put together, too. The boxes,” he waved around, “unpacked and stuff put away. The walls painted, furniture ordered and assembled and put in place.”

  Mischa looked shocked. “You trust me to decorate your house?”

  “No. I have the plans here.” He thumped the red leather-bound album that held the dream house drawings he’d labored on over the years on the marble counter. “I need my housekeeper to coordinate the workmen, decorators, deliveries and so on.”

  More nods. “I can do that.”

  Donovan stared helplessly at the kid. Stop calling him kid. It’s too pervy. What else? “References? Do you have references?”

  Mischa bent over and the tight black t-shirt rode up as the skinny jeans inched down. Damn. All that creamy white flesh, hairless and smooth tempted him to reach out and touch, to examine the texture and resiliency. He wondered if there were any more shiny piercings hidden under that severe black garb.

  “Hey,” Mischa was waving a handful of papers in front of his face, and Donovan flushed slightly. Could Mischa tell he’d been staring inappropriately at his exposed skin?

  “I’ll, ahh, I’ll keep these. I need to call on them later.” He searched desperately for something, anything to turn the kid-man off the idea of working for him. Recalling the indignation and vitriol of the second applicant, he took a shot in the dark and threw it out there.”I’m gay.”

  No response.

  “I said I’m gay, a homosexual, a flamer.”

  No response. Just inquiring green eyes locked on his face. Someone must have told the kid–man that eye contact was important.

  “I sleep with other men?” Shit now he was making statements as questions.

  The pierced brow rose slightly at that in an enigmatic gesture, but no response was forthcoming.

  “This is a live in position. You don’t mind working for and living with a gay man?”

  Finally, Mischa smiled. Donovan’s heart lurched at the sexy sweetness of that smile. The tiny silver hoop in his lower lip glinted seductively. Wonder how that piercing would feel when he pressed his lips to Mischa’s? It certainly drew attention to the swollen plumpness of the full red lower lip. Yeah—he really needed to get laid this weekend.

  “No. I don’t mind working for a gay man, as long as you don’t mind hiring one.” Mischa’s smile was now a broad grin, and he settled back more comfortably on the barstool, as though he were suddenly making himself at home.

  Sudden sympathy overrode Donovan’s concerns. Why not give the kid a chance? If Martin Weston hadn’t hired him to work in the copy room at his company all those years ago, despite his being an underage gay hippie, he wouldn’t be where he was today. He’d probably regret this, but it looked like the skater-Goth-boy/man had talked himself into a job. And the corporate advertising executive was sentencing himself to a series of cold showers.

  He sighed. Such melodrama wouldn’t go over well in an advertising campaign. His active imagination might just become a potent enemy in the coming months. Go for it. Let the kid–man try the job, and when he quits, ask him out.

  “All right, here’s how it works. I provide you with a debit card for household expenses. You maintain a spreadsheet for expenditures and put it on my desk on Fridays. I’ll give you the list of contractors and people I’m using for the house. You call them then get them in and out as quickly as possible. You get paid on the fifteenth of every month. Anything outside the normal household budget needs prior approval. Do you have a car?” It might be pretty tough to do the shopping on a skateboard.

  “My brother has my Porsche.” The kid-man managed to say it with a straight face, but Donovan couldn’t see how, wiseass.

  “Right, well, the keys to my old Toyota are on the hook in the garage. Gas counts as a household expense, keep it filled up. You can use it only for household errands, got it?”

  “I need Wednesday nights off.” That was pretty demanding for someone who a moment earlier was pretty much willing to be walked over to get a job.

  “I planned to give you Sundays off.” He trailed off as the other man shook his head firmly. “Okay, you’ll have Wednesday nights and Sundays off. When can you move in?”

  “I’ll be back tonight with my stuff. I can start tomorrow. You have wireless access?”

  Now he was getting picky about the internet service? Jesus, this had mistake written all over it. “Yeah, but you’ll have to provide your own computer.”

  He led Mischa, his new housekeeper, back down the tiled walkway to the front door. As he opened it something occurred to him, and he stuck out his hand a bit awkwardly. “I’m Donovan Holloway, by the way. You might want to know who you’re working for.”

  Fascinated, he took in the lovely pink flush that spread over the other man’s face. Mischa reached forward awkwardly, hampered by the backpack hanging off his wrist, and took Donovan’s hand. “Thank you. I really appreciate the opportunity Mr. Holloway.” His husky, sexy voice nearly succeeded in pulling Donovan’s attention from the impact of the small warm hand grasping his own, but the tingling awareness of that simple touch sent little signals to various parts of his brain and body that his cock refused to be distracted from. Oh, fuck, this was looking like a really, really, big mistake.

  Chapter Two

  Mischa Moves In

  Mischa pulled the clunky, awkward U-Haul truck into the dead-leaf laden path that he hoped marked Donovan Hollo
way’s driveway. Shutting off the engine he let out a shaky sigh and tried to relax his posture. He sure fucking missed that Porsche. Turning to face his companions on the bench seat of the boxy vehicle, he announced, “Here it is.”

  Belladonna patted his hand gently. In her soft soothing voice, she whispered, “It’s so … nice.”

  Nice? He peered out at the house. Yep. He was in the right place. All the charming aspects he’d noted this morning were still there: mud pit front yard, dead plants in the flower beds, overgrown shrubbery around the small front porch. He nodded dubiously, looking past Bella to where the twins sat huddled together, whispering in each other’s ears.

  Dex shifted to meet his glance and spoke for both of them. “We’re ready.”

  They’d exited the truck and opened the back cargo door with admittedly quite a bit of noise when a pricking of awareness indicated Donovan’s presence. He breathed deeply a few times, hoping to still his racing heart and keep his voice from betraying the instant lust that surged through him at the awareness of the handsome older man.

  Calmer, Mischa turned and immediately caught sight of Donovan leaning against the post of the front porch. He was sex personified in soft flannel sleep-pants, chest bare, and hair sticking up in messy disarray. The tumbled-out-of-bed image went straight to Mischa’s cock and he groaned. Damn skinny jeans.

  “Sorry to wake you, Mr. Holloway,” he called, grateful that his voice came out sounding masculine instead of squeaky. Knowing there was nothing he could do to disguise his erection in his tight clothes; he turned quickly back to survey the jumbled interior of the small van.

  He heard Donovan’s approaching footsteps squelching in the soggy leaves and looked down to see the man’s long, elegant feet in flip-flops parked next to his own combat boots. Fuck. He even had sexy feet? There really was no justice in the world. If there were, the man would have some visible flaw to counteract his gorgeousness. Maybe he’s got a tiny cock, and that’s God’s little joke, or he prefers to bottom, too. In which case even if I got him into bed neither of us would know what the fuck to do with the other.

  Coughing, he turned to his friends. “Mr. Holloway, these are my friends, who were kind enough to help me move.” Actually, he’d quite recently discovered that they were his only real friends, but Donovan didn’t need to know that the hundreds of hangers-on who’d been happy to party with him when he was flush had disappeared when the money had gone. He pulled Bella forward from where she tried to hide behind him,”This is Bella, and that’s Dex and Trick.” He waved in the direction of the twins hoping their behavior at the moment was discreet enough not to turn Donovan off the idea of letting them in his house.

  Donovan murmured greetings to the others before hoisting himself quickly into the U-Haul. He assessed the contents of the van quickly then began issuing orders that everyone else immediately and unquestioningly fell into line to follow. Mischa marveled as in moments he had Bella carrying boxes into a large room off the kitchen while the twins carried his antique secretary-style desk. He and Donovan struggled with the awkward weight and angles of his day bed.

  They paused in the hallway when he dropped his end of the bed to answer his cell phone. He smiled apologetically at Donovan, seeing the man roll his eyes in acknowledgement of the delay. Donovan put his end of the bed down and leaned back against the wall. His arms crossed over his broad chest and Mischa licked his lips, toying with the little hoop in the bottom lip. He studied the other man’s firmly muscled chest while he snapped into the phone, “Terry, what the fuck do you want?”

  Donovan’s brows rose, but he pointedly looked down the walkway towards Mischa’s new room.

  “Yes, I am well aware that I am being evicted.” He ignored Terry’s offer to come and pick him up. “No. I am not giving up and moving back home.”

  He could tell from Donovan’s intent stillness that he was absorbing every word he could hear, even though he stubbornly refused to look back at Mischa as he spoke to his brother. No matter, that half-naked athletic body had had his full attention since Donovan stepped through the front door earlier. “No, as a matter of fact, I did find a job that includes a place to live. No. I have no idea how much it pays. Don’t call me, dickhead. Yeah. I love you, too. I’ll see you Wednesday.”

  He shoved the phone into his pocket and cleared his throat to let Donovan know it was okay to look at him again. Jesus. Talk about willpower.

  Donovan swung back toward him and the expression on his face could only be described as stormy. “Problems?” he asked icily.

  “No, at least it’s not a new problem, anyway.” Fuck if he was going to admit his dumbass brothers were checking up on him.

  An hour later, the room was laid out perfectly. His daybed, dressed impeccably in fine black Egyptian cotton sheets and comforter, fit snuggly against one wall flanked by his grandmother’s antique Chippendale table graced with the stained glass tiffany lamp he’d purchased at Sotheby’s last year. The petrified wood coffee table shone darkly from its place in front of the bed, and his lazy boy recliner beckoned from nearby.

  Dex and Trick were across the room gently petting each other and sneaking little kisses while they worked comfortably together to hang the fifty-inch plasma screen TV on the wall opposite the daybed. Bella, having arranged the jewel-toned throw pillows and cushions on the black comforter to her satisfaction, had crossed to his glass-fronted bookcase and was opening one of the several boxes of books stacked on the floor.

  Satisfied that his room was coming along nicely, Mischa turned back to check the truck for more boxes. He collided immediately with Donovan standing still in his doorway carrying two boxes in his muscular arms and staring at Dex and Trick.

  “Shit!” Mischa grabbed for the box on top as it slid away.

  Donovan’s warm, brown gaze jerked from the twins to Mischa before he cleared his throat. Donovan’s Adam’s apple bobbed under Mischa’s fascinated gaze.

  “Where do you want these?” Together they added the boxes to a pile growing against the wall.

  Mischa urged Donovan to precede him down the hall as they went to check the truck for any last boxes before shutting it up for the night. He had to return it to the rental place first thing in the morning. Once they were outside, Donovan turned to him with a slightly troubled expression.

  “I had the idea that those two were brothers.”

  Mischa calmly met the inquiring brown eyes. “They are. They’re just… close. Really close.” He added.

  He studied Donovan’s handsome face looking for signs of disgust or anger, but couldn’t see anything except a vague concern. The warm brown of the man’s eyes melted into a golden glow. Mischa whimpered in response as his own heart raced, and a tingling heat began spreading throughout his body. He fell forward into those passionate eyes as though he were drowning in honey.

  Unable to stop himself, he reached out a trembling hand and touched Donovan’s firm lower lip. Slowly, cautiously, he moved up on tiptoe and leaned forward to press his lips where his finger had been. Donovan’s mouth opened immediately, and Mischa mewled in sensuous approval. He slid his tongue into the warm cavern eager to learn the taste and textures of this man.

  He was completely shocked when Donovan pushed him aside with a muffled curse. He looked up in protest and saw that Donovan’s eyes were on something over his shoulder. Turning slightly he snorted to see that the object of Donovan’s lust was the twins entwined in an embrace on the front porch. Dex had backed Trick into the porch railing and was licking his neck while grinding his pelvis against the other man’s jean-clad thigh.

  Damn. Guess that passionate lust-filled look was for the scenery and not for him.

  Donovan made a visible effort to bring his head back around to face Mischa. “That’s it then. All the boxes are inside. I’m, uh… I’m heading to the shower and back to bed.”

  Mournfully watching the muscular buttocks flex under the soft sleep-pants as Donovan rapidly entered the house, Mischa sighed. He follow
ed slowly, hoping to keep the man’s gorgeous body in view a little longer. As he passed the twins on the porch, they broke apart and followed him into the house.

  Donovan was up the stairs and out of sight by the time they made it through the entryway. Mischa strained his ears in the late night quiet to catch any sounds of Donovan stirring upstairs, and then shrugged. Donovan was attracted to him, he could tell. Just because he was distracted during their first kiss by Dex and Trick’s impromptu private porno display didn’t mean a thing.

  A sense of pride and homecoming crept into his heart as he took in his room from the doorway. Bella had arranged a few of his books on the shelves and some of his art. Other items were waiting, but the pretty little black-haired girl had curled up on his daybed with a leather-bound copy of the Iliad. Poor Bella, beautiful Bella, was as straight as they come, but absolutely terrified of men. Straight men that was, because she was openly affectionate and cuddly with her gay friends. She smiled in greeting and the three boys moved as one across to her.

  Strange.

  Bella curled into his lap while Dex and Trick coiled together next to them on the smooth black comforter. The huge loft all this stuff had barely filled had always seemed so un-homelike. It was the place of his rebellion. A place he’d rented in spite of Terry’s protests—well, to be honest, maybe because of Terry’s protests would be more accurate. Despite living there for two years, aggressively making it scream with his own personality, wants, and desires, he hadn’t regretted leaving it behind. Eviction had actually been a blessing.

  A polished ebony and bone antique box on the table caught his eye, and with a grin, he leaned forward. His movements disturbed the tangle of limbs around him and the others straightened as well. He flicked open the lid of the box and Bella’s slim white hand dipped in coming back with a delicate blown glass pipe. Trick selected a small ski shaped incense burner and set it down on the polished surface of the petrified wood table. Dex added a scented incense stick to the burner and Trick lit it smoothly with the solid gold Zippo lighter Dan had given Mischa last Christmas.