A Strong Hand

the 10

    A Strong Hand
    by Catt Ford
    button. There was a click and the room was plunged into darkness. In that moment, the erotic tension in the room roared in Ashley's ears. Everything was silent. Not one of them made a move in the dark, but he felt strongly that at least one of the people in the room really wanted to.
    Then the sudden flash of Damian's lights split the darkness with a series of soft explosive pops. The photographer took several shots, bracketing, Ashley remembered him calling it.
    "Okay, Nicholas. Lights," Damian ordered tersely.
    A click and the modeling lights were back on. Ashley had continued to look in Nick's direction to avoid being blinded by the lights, so he was in the perfect position to observe the soft, liquid look in the boy's eyes as he gulped in some air and stared avidly at the cuffs before his usual impassive mask slid back into place.
    Ashley glanced at Damian to find that he was still fussing with his camera. Finally Damian stood upright. "I think that's it for today," he said in a dissatisfied tone.
    "Tell me again why you were shooting in the dark?" Ashley asked.
    "Star filter," Damian said. His laugh lines sprang into being as he smiled and reached up to sweep his hair out of his face.
    "We're going to make your old police standards sparkle like diamonds." He suddenly seemed to realize that Nicholas was still crouched by the pack. "Why are you here?" he demanded bluntly.
    "Came to ask if you wanted your tea, yeah?" The husky voice was soft and yet still communicated Nick's insolence clearly.
    11

    A Strong Hand
    by Catt Ford
    "Go boil it, or buy it, or whatever you do with it," Damian said, losing interest.
    "What would you like in yours, Mr..." Nick asked Ashley, with a bare modicum of politeness.
    "Winthrop," Ashley supplied amiably, although he had told Nicholas his name at least twice before. " I am in the mood for a bite of something sweet, perhaps an éclair or a napoleon.
    And get me a latté, large, cinnamon decaf. With whipped cream. Low fat!"
    Before he slouched from the room, Nick muttered, "You really think that's going to help?"
    Damian chuckled under his breath at Nicholas's jibe, still standing with his hands on his hips, glaring at the handcuffs as if they were a recalcitrant model, refusing to hold a pose.
    "Dreadful baggy trousers," Ashley muttered fastidiously, looking after Nicholas. If he had the dressing of the young man, he'd be wearing something tight and form-fitting, depending on what kind of arse he had. It looked as if it might be quite a pert one, but those loose jeans were so deceptive, as Ashley knew to his cost. Not only had Damian's last assistant Derek turned out to be a tad on the pudgy side, but he didn't even like to play.
    "What was that?" Damian asked abstractedly.
    "I asked your boy for something sweet," Ashley said, grinning inwardly at his choice of words. Sure enough, they caught Damian's attention and he smirked appreciatively. "He seemed a bit dismayed."
    "That'll be because I don't usually run to cakes for tea. I expect he'll have gotten into the petty cash and gone down 12

    A Strong Hand
    by Catt Ford
    the street to the pastry shop," Damian replied in resignation.
    "Well, come along. The young twit has either put the kettle on with no water or forgotten it altogether. I'd better check on it."
    Ashley slid off the stool and followed Damian out of the studio into the kitchen area, his eyes bright with curiosity.
    Something was brewing here, even if it wasn't the tea, and he was interested to see how it all played out.
    [Back to Table of Contents]
    13

    A Strong Hand
    by Catt Ford

Chapter One
    Nick raced up the stairs of the tube station two at a time, hoping he wouldn't be late for work yet again, but the train had been held up and he had to run for it. He pelted along the street, stopping in front of the warehouse building that housed Damian's studio to try to catch his breath. It would never do for his boss to know that he'd hurried so as not to be late. Bad for his image.
    He pushed open the outer door and took the lift to the top floor instead of the stairs, hoping he would have caught his breath by the time it arrived.
    "Late again?" Damian asked sardonically when he heard the loft door open. He didn't bother to turn around so he didn't see the guilty look that flitted over Nicholas's face.
    The voice was surly as usual, with no trace of the regret that shadowed the large dark eyes. "Not very late."
    "Well, it hardly