The Quiet Game
By Willa Okati
()
About this ebook
Flirtatious Rhys loves nothing better than chatting up handsome strangers on the job—until quirky Jareth, a player with unique moves, captivates him with absolute silence.
Server and bartender at Rook's, a restaurant rumoured to be lucky for lovers, Rhys enjoys his life to the fullest. A playful social butterfly, he revels in flirtation and flights of fancy. Though he's never been one for settling down, after seeing so many happy couples in action he's started to wonder if it's about time.
Then Rhys meets Jareth. Or, more properly, Jareth meets Rhys, jumping the terrace fence at Rook's when they're closed and there's no crowd to be lost in. Quirky and compelling, Jareth catches the loquacious Rhys' attention with deliberate, absolute silence. No matter how Rhys may tempt him, Jareth refuses to speak a word—but there are other ways to get his point across, and Jareth has no problem making his intentions and desires for Rhys crystal clear.
Communicating with the captivating charmer is a challenge, but Rhys is having the time of his life playing the quiet game. He might even—much to his surprise—have started falling for Jareth, a man who makes his own luck when it comes to love.
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The Quiet Game - Willa Okati
A Total-E-Bound Publication
www.total-e-bound.com
The Quiet Game
ISBN # 978-1-78184-449-6
©Copyright Willa Okati 2013
Cover Art by Posh Gosh ©Copyright August 2013
Edited by Rebecca Douglas
Total-E-Bound Publishing
This is a work of fiction. All characters, places and events are from the author’s imagination and should not be confused with fact. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, events or places is purely coincidental.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced in any material form, whether by printing, photocopying, scanning or otherwise without the written permission of the publisher, Total-E-Bound Publishing.
Applications should be addressed in the first instance, in writing, to Total-E-Bound Publishing. Unauthorised or restricted acts in relation to this publication may result in civil proceedings and/or criminal prosecution.
The author and illustrator have asserted their respective rights under the Copyright Designs and Patents Acts 1988 (as amended) to be identified as the author of this book and illustrator of the artwork.
Published in 2013 by Total-E-Bound Publishing, Think Tank, Ruston Way, Lincoln, LN6 7FL, United Kingdom.
Warning:
This book contains sexually explicit content which is only suitable for mature readers. This story has a heat rating of Total-e-sizzling and a sexometer of 2.
This story contains 59 pages, additionally there is also a free excerpt at the end of the book containing 6 pages.
THE QUIET GAME
Willa Okati
Flirtatious Rhys loves nothing better than chatting up handsome strangers on the job—until quirky Jareth, a player with unique moves, captivates him with absolute silence.
Server and bartender at Rook’s, a restaurant rumoured to be lucky for lovers, Rhys enjoys his life to the fullest. A playful social butterfly, he revels in flirtation and flights of fancy. Though he’s never been one for settling down, after seeing so many happy couples in action he’s started to wonder if it’s about time.
Then Rhys meets Jareth. Or, more properly, Jareth meets Rhys, jumping the terrace fence at Rook’s when they’re closed and there’s no crowd to be lost in. Quirky and compelling, Jareth catches the loquacious Rhys’ attention with deliberate, absolute silence. No matter how Rhys may tempt him, Jareth refuses to speak a word—but there are other ways to get his point across, and Jareth has no problem making his intentions and desires for Rhys crystal clear.
Communicating with the captivating charmer is a challenge, but Rhys is having the time of his life playing the quiet game. He might even—much to his surprise—have started falling for Jareth, a man who makes his own luck when it comes to love.
Trademarks Acknowledgement
The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of the following wordmarks mentioned in this work of fiction:
Great Expectations: Charles Dickens
Grey Goose: Bacardi Limited
Patrón Silver: The Patrón Spirits Company
Harlem Globetrotters: Shamrock Holdings
Superman: DC Comics
Sherlock Holmes: Sir Arthur Conan Doyle
Chapter One
Did that guy just jump the fence?
Rhys glanced up, distracted from his work. He’d been busy straightening chairs and replacing vases of wilting orchids with fresh roses, but this promised to be more interesting. See, everyone knew Rook’s closed their doors between three and five daily, or they should. With a certain reputation of being lucky for lovers, Rook’s stayed booked for weeks in advance.
Whether or not the rumour was true Rhys couldn’t say, but it paid off, and in spades. Until he got proper work using his degree in classics—if such a thing were possible—Rhys figured a man could do far worse than wait tables here. Especially if that man had a penchant for flirting and a propensity for playing good-natured pranks, as Rhys did.
It wasn’t what he’d trained for, no, but dear God did Rhys love his work.
Maybe he’d been wrong—if someone had jumped the fence, surely Rhys would have heard them land, wouldn’t he?
Still, Rhys checked again. Stranger things had happened, and often did.
At first Rhys thought his eyes had played a trick on him. He saw nothing but the play of light and shadow between tall glass and steel buildings, sweeping in sheets over all two storeys’ worth of Rook’s Spanish colonial structure. Must have been my imagin—
Wait. Nope.
Tall, slim and nimble on his toes, a man had in fact hopped the four-foot-high brick wall dividing Rook’s fresh-air seating from the sidewalk running parallel between the restaurant and the city thoroughfare. He crossed Rhys’ path as if he belonged there, as careless as a caracal and as freely as a bird.
Rhys dropped his workbasket on a tabletop and wiped his hands on his apron. Hello, gorgeous. He didn’t mind being proved wrong. Especially not like this.
A dark purple shirt clung snugly to the man’s shoulders, surprisingly broad compared to the trim line of his hips in their tailored black slacks. He had smallish feet, encased in glossy leather shoes, and wore reading glasses, their lenses barely encircled by the thinnest frame of sterling silver. A faint five o’clock shadow darkened his sun-warmed skin, a shade or two lighter than the maple-sugar hair tucked carelessly behind his ears. He carried a worn paperback novel in one hand, his place near the beginning marked with his forefinger.
Only the wind ruffled him. If his jump had taken anything out of the man, a casual observer wouldn’t have been able to tell. He took a seat at one of the ironwork tables, opened his book, and resumed reading. Whoever he was, he had moxie in spades. Rhys almost wanted to applaud.
Instead, Rhys carried on swapping roses for orchids as carelessly as the man had jumped, and glanced up to speak offhandedly, The food here is good, but not that good. You know we’re closed, right?
The man grinned at Rhys. His smile was surprisingly boyish, softening his almost too-sharp jaw and stubborn cleft chin in a transformation from forbidding to charming.
Correct that—I definitely want to applaud. Part of Rhys hinted at a standing ovation already.
Rhys loved the unusual. The quirky. The peculiar. And when they were all wrapped up in a package this pretty, with the added trimmings of sexy intellectualism, one could call him a lost cause