“I don’t think you’rebadat all,” Nolan commented, driven by some unprofessional impulse.
Sure enough, color chased across Fynn’s face.
A thirty-year-old who blushed.Innocence at any age had never been Nolan’s type. He liked twinks, sure, but he liked them enthusiastic and skilled. He enjoyed guys who knew what they wanted and were on the same page about getting it. Still, Fynn looked good with his pretty lips parted and some color emphasizing his high cheekbones. His eyes behind those rectangular lenses held an amber glow in their brown—Oh, no, you don’t.Nolan mentally smacked down his libido. It’d been three weeks since he’d last hooked up with anyone, which apparently was long enough for his dick to forget the cardinal rule of the profession: don’t fuck your primary.
Good thing Fynn reallywasn’this type. A night out should fix this problem.
In the meantime… “Let’s talk about schedules,” he said. “When do you arrive at the lab? When do you leave? What do you do for fun in your downtime? Does Joe always drive you, or only to and from work?”
“I’m generally here by eight,” Fynn said. “I leave by, well, whenever I’m tired or the ideas stop flowing.”
Uh-huh. Nolan heard workaholic warning bells.“Which is usually when?”
“I don’t know. Nine or ten. Joe drives me to and from work, freeing me up to look through the day’s accumulated data on the drive.”
“And on weekends?”
“Joe has weekends off. I… go grocery shopping, and do laundry, and… the things people do on weekends.”
“Hobbies, sports, movies, bars? Places you like to go?”
“I don’t get out a lot. Anyway, what business is it of yours?”
Nolan smiled, keeping the expression gentle. “Wherever you go, I or one of my men go. That’s what bodyguard means.”
Fynn visibly swallowed, his eyes glazing for a second. “Good thing I’m not.”
“Not what?”
“Having an affair.” Fynn cleared his throat. “You’re going to stand around wherever I am, all day long? Isn’t that boring?”
“You know what they say about this kind of work. Days of boredom and, if you’re unlucky, seconds of pure terror. We’re frankly happy when everything stays on the boredom side.”
“Well, you can help me out here.”
“Doing what?”
“Be my ordinary citizen test case.”
“All right. Does the lab door lock?”
“Yes, of course. There’s very valuable data in here, and equipment too.”
“Is it locked now?”
Fynn blinked at him. “No. Not during the day.”
“If your humble ordinary civilian test case can make a request, please lock up. Then I’m yours.” A determined assailant could get through a locked door, but not faster than Nolan could draw his weapon.
The sigh Fynn heaved suggested he thought Nolan was a paranoid bastard, or maybe wanted to pretend precautions were only paranoia. He went and punched a code on a panel beside the door, generating a click and a beep. Coming back, he moved to the work bench. “Happy?”
“For now.” Nolan would talk to Micah about installing biometric readers for access instead of a code, although if Fynn wore gloves a lot, perhaps not fingerprints. Iris scanners were easily available. “What do you need me to do?”
“This is my other current project. The PortaCado.” He opened a glass-fronted cabinet on the counter and pulled out another Rube-Goldberg box with a length of metal-tipped rubber tubing attached. “Something you could take to the store and use to test which avocados are ripe or unripe or overripe before buying. Only those rough categories, for now.”
“Could be useful.”
“Right?” Fynn cradled the box in his arms. “I’ll hold it, since it’s in a pretty fragile state of development. You handle the tube.” He went to where the line of avocados sat along the edge of the counter. “Here. Come along, now.”
