STEFFEN HUFFED in annoyance and threw his Handy onto the table in front of him, wondering if he should block his mother’s number on his phone. She was a wonderful woman when she wasn’t meddling in his affairs. He’d endured all he could for one conversation of her soft hums of disapproval when he had once more failed to have a boyfriend to report back on. At least this time she hadn’t mentioned Peter, his ex, who was still a favorite sore point to be prodded when she was particularly exasperated at his current relationship status. The worst thing was she was right that bouncing between warm bodies would ultimately be unsatisfying, and she said it in such a way that he thought she was speaking from experience, which was something he didn’t want to think about. But at thirty-eight years old, he wasn’t about to let his mother harangue him into changing his ways, or at least not let her think she was responsible for any changes he might already be thinking of making.
He finished his coffee, then wiped his mouth with a napkin, having enjoyed a rare leisurely lunch at a little Italian restaurant he’d become fond of. Mentally he added it to the list of places he could take Mark. Meeting Mark had been a stroke of luck he’d not seen coming. Steffen could be honest enough with himself to admit an English accent still did things to his libido that a Swiss or German one couldn’t. His years in Cambridge had left an impression that had nothing to do with the collection of letters after his name. However, he’d failed to remember the British psyche correctly, as Mark’s reaction to his time-limited friends with benefits offer had taken him by surprise. He’d expected a ready acceptance since Mark had proclaimed himself both gay and single in Café Des Arts. If it had come from a fellow Swiss, he’d already have bedded him. But thinking back on his time in the UK, he realized he’d rarely met someone that direct outside a club. Still, their parting had been enjoyable; Mark’s moans and greedy kisses during the illicit hand job left Steffen with no doubt that Mark was at least willing to consider his proposition.
Steffen settled his bill, the waiter giving him a crooked, flirty smile, cocking his hip in obvious invitation. A few months ago he’d have been leaving with his number and a promise of a pleasurable night together to come, but he had no desire to do so today. This wasn’t new, and he hadn’t needed his mother’s words warning of shallow engagements. He’d reached the stage where casual sex was getting boring; he’d exorcised his demons over Peter, repeatedly and enthusiastically, but that didn’t mean he was ready to make the compromises to the rest of his life that came with having a long-term partner again. No, what he had offered Mark was a perfect solution—for both of them.
Before leaving, Steffen scanned the notes on his iPad for his next meeting, which happened to be with Mark’s employer, Helvetica Consulting. A happy coincidence, because if he was lucky, he might get to see Mark and get his Handy number, since he’d been stupid enough to walk away without it and had no way to text Mark his address.
He still had time before his next appointment and called in at a Confiserie whose whisky truffles were worth a detour, despite the queue. By the time he had secured his chocolates, Steffen needed to hurry so as not to ruin his record of never yet being late for a client. His meeting with Kaz was supposed to be about assigning resources to a project they were working on, but as much as he loved working with Kaz and her team, he didn’t want to risk mixing business and pleasure if it was something Mark was already assigned to.
Helvetica Consulting was housed in a beautiful old building that didn’t necessarily lend itself well to offices, due to the small rooms and bizarre layout, but somehow they made it work. He was a regular visitor, so the receptionist greeted him by name and let him through without waiting to be collected. Disappointingly, there was no sign of Mark as he entered the rooms used by the project management team, so he sauntered over to Kaz’s office, where she sat peering at her computer, glowering, her expression pinched. She launched into a bout of frantic typing, her red ringlets quivering as she did so, and she forcibly pushed her glasses back up the bridge of her nose several times.
“Not interrupting the death of your enemy, I hope?” he asked in German, knowing that although she spoke excellent English, and usually did for her clients, she took any opportunity to speak her mother tongue.
“Ah, Steffen, come in. The death needs careful planning. I may need to put one of my team on it and work out the project plan and Gantt chart.”
“Sometimes it’s good to drive a project yourself.” He closed the door and took a seat opposite her.
She laughed. “This one will remain theoretical—as much as I would enjoy throttling a certain Austrian, I would rather not spend several years in prison.”
He knew who the Austrian was—a client who’d been known to change his mind repeatedly and could be argumentative to the point of rude, but he paid his bills on time, and the economy wasn’t good enough to turn down a lucrative contract. “I hope he is not the one behind this Merri Project.”
“No, thank God. Otherwise we would all be crazy by the end of it. Having said that, the company behind the Merri Project is not easygoing, so I have had to draft in help from the Reading office.”
That must be Mark and Carl. “Fresh blood is always beneficial for a team,” he said, not wanting to reveal his thoughts. “Good people?”
“They would not be here if they were not. Speaking of which, I was hoping you would be able to take this one yourself.” Kaz looked at him expectantly.
Kaz wasn’t the only one who employed good people. His senior team were some of the best in Europe, lured to Switzerland by the high salaries, but he also knew that not working on the project was more about his own selfishness than his team’s abilities. He had great hopes of various enjoyable encounters with Mark. Working with him would not be conducive to that. Perhaps he was being led by his cock; it wouldn’t be the first time, even though they hadn’t slept together yet, but sometimes he had to take advantage of being his own boss. “I am heavily involved elsewhere at the moment. The US expansion, in particular, is requiring more hand-holding than I had expected. I thought Giselle would be good for the Merri Project—you know she is one of my best IT architects. She has never given you cause for complaint.”
Kaz didn’t look too surprised by his refusal. Helvetica was an important client, but they weren’t his only one. “You would make yourself available for key conference calls?”
“Naturally.” He removed his iPad from his Hugo Boss satchel. “I have received most of the information, but I seem to be missing a full team contact list—you mentioned the two new colleagues from the UK?”
She scooted her chair over to back in front of her computer. “Yes, Mark Timmel and Carl Faven. Mark is the lead project manager.” Her fingers flew over the keyboard. “Updated team list is on its way to you now.”
“Anything I should know about them?” he asked, trying to sound nonchalant. It had been a while since he’d taken an interest in someone for more than a couple of hours. He’d meant it when he’d told Mark he wasn’t looking for permanence. Whatever happened over the next couple of months had a time limit that wasn’t going to be extended, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t take the opportunity to find out more about Mark. The more he knew the better prepared he could be. Preparation was everything. He’d built his business on it, and he didn’t see a reason not to employ the same tactics in his personal life.
“They would not be here, working on this project, if they were not capable, Steffen,” Kaz said, and Steffen got the sense he might be on the line of client-customer relationship. But he’d been working with them for a while, and they had an official partnership that had been a legal and administrative bureaucratic slog to settle, so he thought he should get more leeway than others.
“I would not expect anything less. But I would like to brief Giselle fully on her new colleagues.”
“Carl is solid, not the most creative of men but has a tenacity that makes him valuable. Mark, well, there is a lot of potential. But I get a feeling he is a bit in limbo—I guess this project will either cure that or he will move on.”
Steffen wondered if Mark being unsettled was what had led him to accept Steffen’s offer. He’d slept with men who were unsure of themselves, not wanting to set boundaries even if they needed them. “Not the best trait for a project manager. Insecurity.”
“Oh no, I have no concerns there. He managed a very difficult situation yesterday without getting flustered. In fact, he had a way of being diplomatic that only a Brit can manage.”
Steffen laughed. “I think I know what you mean. The most complimentary insult I have ever received came from a Brit, my PhD supervisor—and it was not in isolation.”
“Yes, there is something about the accent and turn of phrase that will make someone doubt it could be anything but positive.” She smiled. “I like it. It’s a quality I wish I had.”
“Sounds like he could be quite charming.”
“I can only hope the clients think so.” She flipped open the diary she kept on her desk. He was always surprised that she kept a paper record. “Now, we will need Giselle here on the seventeenth.”
“Should not be an issue.” Steffen took the hint that the conversation needed to move on, and filed away the new information he’d gathered on Mark. He opened the project documents on his iPad. Tomorrow would be a very interesting evening, and a coil of excitement at the prospect settled in his stomach. That hadn’t happened in a long time. Perhaps Mark might be the antidote he’d been looking for, after all. A short course taken regularly for several weeks might be just what the doctor ordered.
As he went to leave, he spotted “Mark Timmel” on a desk nameplate. The office was deserted. Steffen hesitated for a moment on whether to leave his Handy number but decided he would prefer to send Mark a text message. Instead he slipped the box of chocolates out of his bag and selected four, then placed them carefully on a Post-it note. He grinned, wishing he could see Mark’s face when he spotted the mysterious gift.