Mr. Jaguar by K.A. Merikan Read Free Book Online

want to be proud of my date,” chuckled James, following him.
    “How much can I choose though?” Mike looked into those gorgeous blue eyes framed by black lashes, and his heart skipped a beat. He’d die if he shared a hotel room with James and didn’t fuck him tonight.
    James shrugged. “Just pick what you like and later we’ll decide what looks good on you.”
    “How rich are you exactly?” Mike eyed him, piling more clothes over his arm. He’d be lying if he claimed not to be jealous. James seemed to have everything Mike could possibly wish for. He was smart, rich, handsome, and drove a Jag on top of it all.
    James snorted. “‘Rich’ enough. Now tell me how you would ask me to give you salt at the table.”
    Mike looked to the clothes in his hand, feeling heat creep up his neck. “Are you trying to mock me? You must think I’m an idiot.”
    James frowned. “Just tell me what you’d say.”
    So this was the price Mike would have to pay for the clothes. “Jamie, could you pass the salt please?” He felt like a trained monkey.
    James stopped, glancing at him with slightly widened eyes. “That… yes, that was really nice.” He scratched his nape and went on toward the denim section.
    Mike followed, watching the shape of James’s wide shoulders, nicely pronounced by the slim fit shirt. He wasn’t as big as Mike, but almost as tall and with nice, narrow hips. Mike could only imagine how glorious that ass had to look. He’d bury his face in it and sleep there. He frowned at the thought, unsure if that was weird or not. It was another man’s ass after all.
    “Surprise me,” said James, glancing toward a wall of shoes. “Come up from behind me and surprise me.”
    Mike frowned. That wouldn’t be much of a surprise, would it? Yet, he put the clothes down on a shelf for a moment and took quiet steps toward James, trying to imagine they were a couple on their honeymoon. He slid his arms under James’s and hugged him from behind. “You like any of the shoes, Jamie?”
    James leaned back into him with a soft sigh. “Yes. You should get some to match your new clothes.”
    “Choose some for me then.” Mike nuzzled James’s ear. “You have such excellent taste.”
    James sighed and slowly turned in his arms. He had a confident smile, but the redness on his face spoke volumes. “After we decide which clothes to take, all right?”
    “Sure, anything you want. I don’t mind.” Mike smiled at him even though he could feel someone’s gaze stabbing him in the back. James would not be thinking Mike couldn’t do his job properly. The fuck was up with that? Asking for salt. Did James really assume Mike didn’t watch television, or something? Okay, so maybe Mike wasn’t Mr. Proper, but he could pretend to be if he wanted to. Hell! He could be the boyfriend of the year if he wanted to. All pliant and adoring. Whatever.
    “Who do we have here? Isn’t that our resident genius?” asked a deep, masculine voice, and the expression of bliss melted off James’s face like a pile of snow under a radiator. He turned around to look at a tall man in a sharp gray suit, much like the one they’d seen on a mannequin minutes earlier. Tanned, blue-eyed, with teeth like expensive porcelain (which they probably were), and tiny wrinkles in the corners of his eyes. Come to think of it, the guy looked a bit like a mannequin himself. He smiled at them like a television host. “I see you have company this year.”
    James’s arms turned into wood under Mike’s touch, but his voice didn’t betray tension. “Oh, hi, Richard. Picking something up last minute?”
    “Oh, Savannah wanted to buy some new shoes before the conference,” he said and gestured to a young blonde girl in the shoe section. In her high heels, she was as tall as Mike, but probably one third of his weight. “And you don’t have to call me Richard, just call me Rich.” He kept up the ridiculously wide smile and held his hand out to Mike. “And you