Judgment of the Moon and Stars [Suncoast Society] (Siren Publishing Sensations ManLove) Read online

  Apparently the speaker either didn’t hear, or it didn’t fluster him.

  With trembling hands, Noah corralled his phone and notepad and straightened, edging sideways so he could peek around the pillar.

  Jackson was addressing the commissioners, facing forward and not Noah’s direction. But if Jackson turned to look at the large screen in chambers, where the visual presentations were displayed—positioned to his left—he would see Noah.

  Shit!

  Noah turned and stepped behind the pillar again, his heart racing.

  Sir.

  It was him, his black hair, his hazel eyes. He looked sharp in a button-up shirt and tie, khakis…

  When his body wanted to respond, his cock thickening in his slacks, he tried to shrink himself behind the pillar, making sure he wasn’t visible at all from the audience.

  Okay, at least now he had Jackson’s real name and his employer. Finding out his address wouldn’t be hard—he could check voter registration records, or the property tax listings.

  Duh. He could look at the speaker’s card. It would be public record.

  Or maybe, dumbass, you could approach him and give him your damn business card?

  Yeah, that could work, too.

  Except he’d want to make sure he wasn’t giving any kind of impression of impropriety in front of witnesses. He’d have to wait and hope he wasn’t called away to handle something else, maybe catch Jackson alone at the end of the meeting.

  As the presentation continued, with Jackson’s voice swirling through him, Noah’s eyes closed and his soul ached at the memories flooding his mind. One night, yeah, but perfection, answered prayers—his most perfect hopes and dreams, all before him.

  In that man.

  A man who now stood less than twenty feet away, and yet might as well be on the surface of Mars, as inaccessible as he was.

  When the visual part of the presentation started, with Jackson talking along with it, Noah froze when he caught sight of his boss waving to him, his hand low and below the level of the front of the dais, indicating for him to walk over.

  Which would expose Noah and make him visible to Jackson.

  Shit.

  Not going wasn’t an option, either. It wasn’t like he hadn’t been summoned countless times before, for everything from trying to obtain reference materials on the fly, to grabbing him another bottle of water.

  Kind of his job.

  He took a deep breath, kept his head down and turned facing away from Jackson, his back to him. Noah moved carefully, not wanting to trip or do something else stupid that would call attention to himself.

  It was actually a request to get his boss copies of reports for a meeting on Thursday. He could have sent Noah an e-mail, but he preferred to do as much as possible face-to-face to reduce required paperwork clutter trails because of the sunshine laws. Especially for something so innocuous.

  Noah jotted a note to himself on his notepad. Without thinking, as he turned to leave the way he always did, he heard Jackson’s speech stumble. Unable to help himself, he looked and spotted the man’s gaze locked on him.

  So much for staying unnoticed.

  Chapter Nine

  Jackson coughed, fumbled his bottle of water to take a sip, and forced his focus back onto the screen to continue the presentation.

  Fuck.

  He literally had zero brain cells to peel off and devote to Noah right this second. This was partially his own fault for not getting there early today, hunting him down in person, and demanding a what the fuck? answer.

  I do not chase.

  Okay, but he’d better get his head back in the fucking game here and nail this presentation.

  Thank god for the countless hours practicing, following along with the presentation and his notes, because he fell back on that and once again settled into a rhythm. Noah had apparently been standing behind a column off to the left front side of the commission chambers, because he disappeared behind it and didn’t emerge from the other side.

  Well, mostly disappeared. Jackson could still see a sliver of arm.

  From the look of shock on Noah’s face, he could tell the guy wasn’t—

  FOCUS, ASSHOLE!

  Somehow, he made it through the presentation. Then he had to nervously sit there in the audience and force himself not to stare at the column Noah still cowered behind.

  They had dozens of speaker cards from parents and teachers who wanted to speak in support of the expansion. Only three people spoke against the project, two citing traffic concerns and one citing public tax dollars being used for a private school, which wasn’t even a valid issue. They’d self-funded the project with fundraising, loans, federal grants, and a couple of corporate sponsorships from tech companies who were interested in supporting their STEM program.

  Not a penny of county tax or infrastructure dollars would be spent. In fact, the county benefitted from their expansion by being handed, free, sidewalks, crossings, and traffic signals.

  You’re welcome.

  Fortunately, the next speaker after that one was one of their expansion committee parent members who immediately shot down those protests with one sentence before launching into her own comments in support of the expansion.

  It was over an hour before the commission took up discussion, and then…

  A unanimous vote in favor of it.

  Jackson felt so relieved, and was surrounded by supporters as they all made their way out of chambers and into the main hallway out front while the commission tackled the next agenda item, that he totally lost sight of Noah. Didn’t even think about him for a few minutes, because people were talking to him, then the reporter from the Sarasota TV station was interviewing him, print reporters wanted comments—it was crazy.

  It was almost four when Sarah Matthews, one of their third-grade teachers, walked over to him between interviews. “We’re going to go grab some celebratory drinks and an early dinner over at Chili’s. The one we always go to. Come join us. We want to buy you dinner.”

  He started to say no, then decided fuck it, he’d earned this. He knew which one she meant. “I’ll be right behind you guys.”

  Finally, the reporters finished with him, and Jackson could head outside. That’s when the school’s land use attorney called for him to hold up, then hurried to catch up with him.

  “Here. He apologized, said he’s really sorry he didn’t get back to you sooner about your previous discussion, but he misplaced your contact info. Said you’d know what it was about.”

  The man held out a business card.

  Jackson took it more as a reflex action than because he wanted to. Noah’s face, his blue eyes, slammed back into Jackson’s brain so fast and hard that it nearly took his breath away.

  He stared at the card for a second, then realized he wasn’t saying anything. “Oh. Oh! Oh, yeah. Thanks. I’d totally forgotten about that.” He slipped the card into his pocket. “You know, I’m going to go hit the bathroom before I leave. I’ll talk to you later. You joining us for dinner?”

  “I’m on my way there now.” The attorney smiled and lightly slapped his shoulder. “You did great. You should be proud of yourself. Sorrellson won today, and so did the kids.”

  Jackson forced the smile. “Thanks.”

  But his knees were trembling by the time he made it to the bathroom and locked himself into the wheelchair-accessible stall. He pulled the card out of his pocket and stared at it, the Sarasota County logo. Under it in small, neat sans serif type:

  Noah Mayes, Deputy County Administrator

  And his office address, e-mail address in the county system, desk extension, and cell number.

  He flipped the card over. On the back he found another phone number that Jackson assumed would be Noah’s personal cell number.

  He had a choice. No, he didn’t chase, but what if this was nothing more than Noah had simply forgotten his FetLife ID?

  That was possible. Right?

  Especially in light of how chaotic
and traumatic Noah’s Sunday had been, starting so early, on little sleep, after a late night together?

  The neat scrawl in black ink on the back of the white card beckoned him.

  Instead, he took a picture of the scrawl with his phone, then tucked the business card into his wallet, where he wouldn’t lose the damn thing.

  He couldn’t deal with this right now. If he didn’t go to dinner with everyone, it would be like he didn’t give a shit or acknowledge that this was a team effort, not his alone. All he did was organize everything and volunteer to be the public voice of the effort.

  I’ve waited this long. I can wait a few more hours.

  * * * *

  Noah nervously hung out on the sidelines as long as he could before he had to return to chambers. He didn’t want to pass the card to a parent and risk them forgetting to hand it over, or have them ask him or Jackson questions they didn’t want to answer.

  But the land use attorney, a guy Noah vaguely knew by face, was someone who appeared in chambers on a fairly regular basis. After scribbling his personal cell on the back of one of his business cards, Noah passed it to the man and told him the plausible, bare-bones line that would be totally believable and hopefully not garner more questions from the attorney.

  After the meeting adjourned he headed upstairs to his office, feeling queasy.

  More than queasy.

  He barely made it into the men’s room after stepping off the elevator, puking his lunch up in the fortunately empty bathroom.

  He wouldn’t blame Jackson if he never contacted him, but at least now the truth about his identity was out. Jackson would know who he was, where he worked.

  He definitely remembered Jackson’s admonition about not playing games, not chasing.

  But would he consider this chasing? Would he even give Noah a chance to explain he’d simply…forgotten?

  Or would he take the card, toss it, and not look back?

  From the expression on Jackson’s face when he’d recognized him, Noah hoped it meant the man had feelings for him, too. Because another thought Noah hadn’t been able to shake haunted him—maybe he’d been relieved when Noah hadn’t contacted him. One less newbie to let down and send away.

  Maybe the shock he’d read on Jackson’s face had been fear that what he’d thought was a safely settled situation with loose ends tied up was once again open and dangling before him, unraveled and trying to trap him.

  Stop it.

  All he could do was wait.

  While he’d never admit it to his mother, maybe he’d toss a little prayer in there, too.

  Couldn’t hurt, right?

  * * * *

  The business card burned a hole in Jackson’s right ass cheek. As he sat at a booth, hemmed in on all sides by coworkers and parent committee members, he forced a smile and chatted, pretended to be rightfully reveling in his success.

  I shouldn’t be celebrating this alone.

  His mind had viciously spun out two main threads over the past week-plus purgatory he’d been stuck in. The first, of course, that Noah had ghosted because he didn’t want anything else to do with Jackson.

  The other consisting of a simple misunderstanding somehow, easily rectified, their reunion joyous, sexy, and complete with Noah able to celebrate this success with him.

  With Jackson able to introduce the man to everyone as his significant other.

  Okay, yeah, jumping the gun a little because they needed to get to know each other better first, and reckless wasn’t exactly his MO, but come on, fantasies, man.

  Now?

  The first thread had completely dissolved the moment the attorney handed him Noah’s business card and told him what Noah had said.

  Where did he go from here?

  Then again, considering what Noah did for a living, maybe it was better there’d been a delay. No possibility of the hint of an impropriety to tinge Noah’s reputation regarding Sorrellson’s expansion.

  Or his own.

  He wasn’t able to just leave. Wave after wave of teachers and parents arrived, and even after finishing his own meal he felt he needed to sit and talk with everyone who wanted his ear for a little while.

  Days like this didn’t happen often, and he wouldn’t be ungracious with the praise he received.

  He finally made his good-byes a little after seven thirty, needing to head home and prepare for work in the morning.

  He refused to look at his phone or pull the card from his wallet until he got there.

  He set his phone and wallet on the dresser and took a shower, his mind roiling with conflicting emotions he couldn’t even process.

  Standing in front of the dresser with only a towel wrapped around his hips, he removed the card from his wallet, and plugged the number into the contact with Noah’s name and his work info.

  Was this crazy? Irrational? He didn’t even know the guy and yet was allowing his emotions to cloud his mind.

  This is a totally different situation than—

  Nope. Not the night to think about that. About why he was careful, patient.

  About why he didn’t chase.

  About the painful lesson he’d learned when someone jumped the gun and stupidly fell in love without really knowing a person.

  About chasing someone who really shouldn’t have been caught.

  Damned painful lesson.

  Fortunately, not fatally painful, although it easily could have gone another way.

  For several long moments, his thumb hovered over the little phone icon to dial Noah’s personal cell.

  After taking a deep breath, he pressed.

  * * * *

  Noah puked two more times after returning home and was thinking about calling in sick now and claiming food poisoning, even though he knew that wasn’t what ailed him.

  Jackson.

  He’d turned his personal cell ringer on, set it to the loudest, most obnoxious and unmissable ringtone he had, and…

  Waited.

  No, he wouldn’t blame the guy if he didn’t contact Noah, if he’d taken the card and tossed it in the first trash can he’d encountered.

  If Noah didn’t hear from him in a week, he had already decided he’d contact Sorrellson and find out if Jackson had voice mail or e-mail, or…something.

  Reach out one more time, just to make sure.

  Just to make sure the attorney didn’t fail to give him the card, or fall into a black hole before he’d handed it over, or—

  Maybe I should call the attorney and ask if he really handed it to Jackson?

  Oh, yeah, like that would be professional and not trigger a single damn question.

  What the hell is wrong with me?

  All he wanted was two minutes with Jackson to explain, to apologize, to tell him yes, he’d wanted to contact him, had spent hours trying to find him.

  And then let Jackson tell him to his face he wasn’t interested.

  It was nearly eight o’clock when he’d decided he’d try to go to bed—not that he’d sleep—when his personal cell phone blasted and scared the crap out of him.

  He didn’t recognize the number, but it had a Sarasota area code and extension, and it wasn’t uncommon for him to get work calls on his private cell.

  Which was why he barely remembered at the last second to be careful how he answered.

  “Noah Mayes.”

  Silence greeted him, for so long he actually looked to make sure he hadn’t accidentally disconnected the call. “Hello?”

  “Do you have a pen and paper handy?”

  He knew that man’s voice, and it hardened his cock and melted his knees. “Just a second, Sir.” He scrambled, tripped, fell, and the phone went skidding across the carpet. Noah yelled, “Sorry!” He grabbed the phone and bolted for the kitchen, where he had a grocery list and pencil perpetually living next to his coffeemaker.

  “Are you all right?”

  “I tripped, I’m fine. Sorry, Sir. I’m fine. I’m ready.”

  Jackson gave him an addres
s in south Sarasota. “Read it back to me.”

  Noah did.

  “Where do you live, approximately?”

  “A few blocks from Ringling. The county admin center. Where we were today.”

  “You have forty-five minutes to get here, starting now. Prepare to spend the night and leave from here for work in the morning.”

  The call ended.

  Mouth agape, a mix of confusion and joy washed through Noah.

  Then reality smacked him. “Shit!” He bolted for the bedroom to grab clothes for tomorrow.

  * * * *

  Jackson couldn’t help the pleased smile trying to curve his lips. Unmistakable eagerness had filled Noah’s voice when he’d realized it was him.

  Like he’d been awaiting Jackson’s call.

  He took a deep, relieved breath, basking in the knowledge that this was fixable. He would get Noah here, and despite the tone he’d just used, they would talk.

  They would fix this.

  He even pumped his fist in the air as he turned to lean against his kitchen counter when horror struck—

  “Oh, fuck me!”

  His place looked like a bomb had gone off, and he hadn’t changed his sheets or scrubbed his bathroom in over two weeks.

  “Fuck!” Now panicking, he ran for the bedroom to start there.

  Not that the place was condemnable or anything, but he’d let rinsed but dirty dishes pile up in the sink the past couple of days instead of running the dishwasher, which was full of clean dishes he hadn’t put away yet.

  Mail lay scattered across the coffee table. His small dining room table was barely visible under the stacks of paperwork and files both from teaching and from his committee work. Somehow, over the past week, he’d been leaving T-shirts and shorts tossed over the back of a living room chair when he took them off—

  “You fucking idiot!” Jackson growled at himself as he ripped the sheets off the bed, wadded them up, and hurled them at the bedroom doorway.