But the words apparently hadn’t come out, because Jason kept walking, and Blake’s tongue was still glued to the roof of his mouth. Shit!
Suddenly remembering he had feet, he hurried after. “Wait!”
Jason turned around. Once again, his gaze locked right on Blake, whose Ivy-League vocabulary dwindled to one or two syllables of “Um . . . uh . . .”
Blake cleared his throat. “I, uh . . .”
The rentboy cocked his head, eyes narrowing slightly, and Blake had the strange feeling of being read whether he liked it or not. That other guy—Tristan? Hell, he couldn’t even remember his own name right then—had had that same look, as if he were scrutinizing every blink and nuance, but Jason’s was far more intense.
Amusement quirked Jason’s slim lips. “Can I help you?”
“Yeah, uh . . .” Blake ran a hand through his hair because he didn’t know what else to do with himself, and what the fuck? Since when did a prostitute—or anyone for that matter—reduce him to a stuttering idiot like this? “I was, uh, referred to you.”
“A referral?” Jason glanced in the direction he’d been headed, but then faced Blake fully. “From . . .?”
“Tristan and Jared.”
“Both?”
“Both.”
The rentboy nodded. “Personal question?”
“Um, sure.”
“Which one did you prefer? Jared or Tristan?”
Was that some trick question to get him to rat on a colleague? Or was Jason starting a profile on him? Both? “Tough question. They’re, well, they were really hot. And Jared started out sweet and playful, with Tristan more in control, but that changed over time, so . . . No, hard to answer.” Short of telling him exactly what he’d liked about those encounters, that should be enough. “I liked them both, maybe in different ways. It worked.”
Jason nodded again. “Another question, less personal?”
“All right. Strange progression, but all right.”
Tapping his wrist, Jason asked, “Do you have the time?”
Blake pushed back his cuff to check his watch, which he’d apparently forgotten to set to local time. “Shit. You’re five hours behind, so it’s—”
“No worries.” Jason grinned. “So you’re that john.” He measured him again, top to toe, and back. “You do come recommended.”
“Oh, good.” Blake took a deep breath. “You do, too. I guess this is the weirdest blind date ever.”
Jason laughed. “Guess so. Well, let me get us a booth.” He turned, and it was one of those sharp, on-a-dime kind of stage turns that left Blake staring at his ass for a moment before following. The booths were all taken, at least until Jason locked eyes with a lone rentboy nursing a cola. Jason jerked his head to the side and the other rentboy picked up his drink and stood. They exchanged a look that told Blake the other guy wasn't offended . . . and that Jason would likely make this up to him later.
As the other rentboy vanished in the crowd. Jason sat down, collecting his long limbs around him. “I’ll have a virgin mojito.”
Blake hesitated, then remembered that this place didn’t have table service. “Right. I’ll get us something to drink.”
Jason smiled, dipped his chin, and Blake swore the guy stopped just short of saying “Good boy.”
What the hell? He was used to cocky motherfuckers like Tristan—and Lord, he’d loved the mind games Tristan had played—but Jason was creeping into dominant territory. Effectively, it seemed, since Blake was already halfway to the bar.
This was going to be an interesting evening, wasn’t it?
He stared blankly at the gorgeous beast of a bartender. Raoul, according to the little name tag. “Um . . .”
Raoul glanced past him and chuckled. “A virgin mojito and . . .?”
“Uh.” Okay, so he knew Jason’s habits, apparently. Of course he did. Why wouldn’t he? “Right. Yeah. And a . . . um . . .” Blake had intended to get a drink for himself too, right? A strong one? Except he was already having trouble stringing words together, so maybe booze was a bad idea. After all, he was jet-lagged off his ass. Yeah, that’s what it was. He didn’t have his game face on because of the jet lag.
Raoul inclined his head. “Another drink?”
“Right. Uh.” Blake cleared his throat. “I’ll stick with a Coke for now.”
The bartender’s eyebrow flicked up. “So one virgin mojito and one virgin rum and Coke.”
Blake bristled. Virgin? What the— Okay, fine, so that’s technically what he’d ordered, but he had the oddest feeling that this guy was laughing at him. This toned, tanned guy with a sexy accent and a wicked smile was laughing at him.