Love Most Inconvenient

Love Most Inconvenient Three-story anthology: No Vacancy Right Before My Eyes

Love Most Inconvenient Three-story anthology: No Vacancy Right Before My Eyes My Name is Dane DJ Manly (c) 2008 ISBN 978-1-59578-485-8 Published by Liquid Silver Books, imprint of Atlantic Bridge Publishing, 10509 Sedgegrass Dr, Indianapolis, Indiana 46235. Copyright © 2008, DJ Manly. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, recording or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the author. Manufactured in the United States of America Liquid Silver Books http://LSbooks.com Email: [email protected] Editor Lynne Anderson Cover Artist April Martinez This is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents and dialogues in this book are of the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is completely coincidental.

Dedication Dedicated to Tina Burns, who wanted to read a good old-fashioned love story!

No Vacancy Chapter One Manuel parked his car in the underground garage and took the elevator to the third floor. He walked quietly down the semi-lit hallway and stopped at the first apartment on the left. As he inserted his key into the lock and turned the handle, the door opened no more than a crack. He swore softly, realizing that Sam hadn’t expected him back so he’d slid the security chain across the door. Damn it. He’d have to remember to try to give him some notice next time. Oh well, he couldn’t blame Sam for being cautious. Conscious of the fact that it was well after one in the morning, Manuel called softly to Sam through the opening. “Sam. It’s me, Manuel. You awake?” No response. Manuel pulled the door closed again, locked it, and bounded back down the stairs, deciding he’d use the fire escape that led directly to the window of his bedroom. This had happened to him before. It was no biggie. He made his way around the side of the building and into the alley, where he reached up and pulled down the fire stairs. He climbed up to his window and made an attempt to open it, but it wouldn’t budge. It seemed to be jammed. He swore again, now frustrated with the situation. He was exhausted. He really wanted to sleep. He took out the pen knife he carried in his pocket and started prying at the window. After somewhat of a struggle, he managed to get the window up far enough so that he’d be able to squeeze through. * When a loud rustling jarred John out of a dead sleep, he scarcely dared to breathe. Someone was trying to break into his room. Very slowly, he moved to the edge of the bed, reached down, and grabbed hold of the baseball bat he kept on the floor beside him at night. He was trembling like a leaf when he crept across the room, but he held the bat steady in his hand, hovering just beside the window, listening intently. He waited with bated breath, heart pounding in his chest as he watched the window rise. Suddenly a head appeared, then part of a torso. John raised the bat and just as the body began to slide in through the window, he slammed it down hard on the shadowy figure’s head. “Ow! Jesus Christ!” A deep voice growled. “What in the fuck did you hit me for?” John raced around the bed and made two attempts to switch on the lamp before light finally flooded into the room. Haphazardly, he threw on his robe and shoved the bat underneath it. “I have a gun!” he announced loudly, trying to sound threatening. John’s hands shook so badly he could hardly control the bat. It was doing a bizarre dance under his robe. The man on the floor glared up at him with pain-filled eyes. He rubbed his head, then jumped to his feet. “Well, so do I,” he snapped, “only mine is real.” The man took a step toward him. John gripped the bat. “It’s a deadly weapon. If you’re planning on raping or robbing me, I’ll use it.”

“What in fuck is wrong with you?” The man gave him a strange look. “I don’t want to rape you. I just want to sleep. Who in the hell are you and what are you doing in my bedroom?” “Your bedroom?” John echoed. “I think the nuthouse is back thataway, fella, a few miles down the road.” John patted the bat under his robe. “I pay rent on this apartment.” “You know,” the intruder sneered, rubbing his head again, “it would be far more effective if you just showed me the bat. That way, it looks as if you’re happy to see me, if you know what I mean, really happy, actually.” He raised an eyebrow. John turned crimson. He took out the bat and waved it at him. “Don’t come any closer. I’ll … ah … call the police.” “I am the police,” the man muttered, rubbing his head through the black cap he wore as he moved past him. John couldn’t believe this guy. He just walked down the hall to the kitchen like he owned the joint. John followed him with trepidation. He watched aghast as the man opened the fridge and took out some leftover pasta, then got a fork from the drawer and began to eat. He leaned against the counter, totally ignoring him. John gripped the bat in his fist. “You can’t just eat my food. There are places, soup kitchens. They’ll feed you. I could call one if you like.” The man issued him a forced smile. “That’s okay,” he replied, his mouth full of pasta, “they’re not open at this time of night.” “I’m calling the cops,” John repeated, and reached for the phone. Without looking at John, the man moved his coat aside and showed him his gun. Then he let the coat fall back into place and continued eating the pasta. This guy really did have a gun. Jesus Christ. “Look, you can have me, but please don’t pee on me, and wear a condom because I really don’t want to catch anything.” The guy didn’t blink. “Did you hear me?” “Yes,” he said, swallowing, “you said not to pee on you and to use a condom.” He put down the empty dish and looked at him. “Who are you again?” John sighed. “It’s best we keep this impersonal.” The man met his gaze. “I don’t get it.” “Well, transference and stuff. Have you seen that film where the guy kidnaps the girl and they get to know all about each other, and they fall in love, it’s very romantic … only he’s really nuts and then when the police come—” “Aha!” The man pointed a finger at him. “You’re a bloody actor, aren’t you?” “How did you know?” He pushed away from the counter. “My ex was an actor. They’re real drama queens.” John stood in the corner. “Whatever you’re going to do to me, I ask only that you don’t hit me in the face. My face is my living. I just got a bit part in a movie and…” John stopped talking. It didn’t appear that the man was even listening to him. John made a face and followed him as he walked into the living room. “He’s gone, isn’t he?” He turned and looked at him. “Who?” John asked. “Who’s gone?” “You know who! Stop playing games.” “Okay.” John swallowed. The best thing to do was play along, not make him angry. Obviously, the guy was deranged. “I see him too. He’s over there in the corner, right?”

“Who’s in the corner?” “The one that’s gone? I mean he was gone, now he’s back. But he left a message for you.” The man tilted his dark head, narrowing his eyes. “He left a message? Isn’t that great? He doesn’t even bother to let me know what in hell is going on. He leaves a message! What did he say?” “He said—” John folded his arms across his chest to keep himself calm “—he said not to get upset or hurt anyone. There are people out there who can help you with your little problems.” He stared at John for a good long time in the darkened living room. “What in hell are you talking about? What people out where? Are you on drugs?” “No. No drugs. Out … ah … there … not far, you know, not far. If you leave now, you’ll find it … out there.” John pointed at the front door. “I’m not going anywhere.” “Let me call someone. We can all sit down calmly and discuss this.” “Who in hell are you going to call at this time of night? The best thing to do now is wait. Tomorrow we’ll sit down and figure this all out. I’m beat.” “You mean, you’re staying here, tonight?” “Of course,” he said with a yawn. “Okay, but will you do me a favor?” John held out his hand. “Give me your gun.” “I’m not giving you my gun!” “Will you give it to the little guy in the corner?” The man cast a wary glance in the corner. “Okay, you’re definitely on drugs. There is no little guy in the corner.” “Good,” John said. “He’s gone, right?” “Huh?” The man’s eyes widened. “Are you sure you’re not on crack?” “Can you take the bullets out at least?” “Sure.” He shrugged, pulling John’s attention to his broad shoulders. He’s really built. Too bad the guy’s psychotic. “And can I ask … where did you get the badge, the one you showed me a while ago?” “Where do you think I got it?” “I don’t know. Is it real?” “Of course it’s real.” “You didn’t hurt anyone, did you?” “Not lately.” John swallowed as he watched him unload the gun. “Give me the bullets.” “What do you want my bullets for?” “I’ll keep them for you.” “They go in here,” he said, walking over and putting the bullets in the kitchen drawer. John nodded. “Thank you. That meant a lot to me.” “You are a little strange. It didn’t mean shit to me.” John tried to smile. “Hold on to your gun, but remember, I’m holding on to my bat too.” “I could make a joke about how attached you are to your bat, but I don’t think you’d

get it. In my experience, actors are not that high up there when it comes to brains.” “That’s not nice. I’ve got an early morning call tomorrow on the set. It’s very important to me. I went to bed early on purpose so that I’d look good and you fucked all that up. You are intending on letting me go tomorrow?” “It’s got nothing to do with me. I don’t care.” “I’ll promise to come back. Please.” John slowed his speech down to make sure this guy would understand every word. “Just-don’t-give-me-any-trouble.” At an equally slow pace, the guy replied, “You-can-go-anywhere-you-want tomorrow-morning. I might have a problem with you coming back, however.” John eyed the phone. If only he could call the cops, get this guy out of here. He needed to get some sleep, but he was scared. It was obvious this guy was unstable. “Did you ever hurt anyone—badly?” he blurted. The man appeared to contemplate that for a moment. “Only when I’ve had to.” “Oh my God,” John gasped. He sat down on the sofa with a yawn. “Well, it was either him or me.” John bit his lip. “We should go to bed.” John tensed, took a step back. “I’ll fight if I have to, but if it comes down to it and you force me, I beg you, be gentle. You’ll get what you want anyway. My face is—” “What in hell are you talking about?” “If you try to … you know? I’m just trying to make you understand that I won’t fight if you’re not going to mess up my face. Let’s just get it over with.” The man stood up. “Okay, loony guy, enough of that. If you’re auditioning for the part of someone in a mental ward, you got it, hands down, Academy Award. I’ll sleep here on the sofa tonight. You can have my bed. Tomorrow all this shit is going to be put straight.” “Your bed?” “Yeah, my bed. I don’t intend to talk about it anymore tonight. Let’s just get some shut-eye. Your virtue, or lack thereof, is safe with me.” “You’re really going to sleep on the sofa here? You’re not going to try anything?” “Try what? I’m beat. I just want to sleep, please.” John sighed with relief. “Oh thank God,” he said. “I thought you were going to force me to sleep with you.” “Now I think you’re on the border of insulting me. Could we not talk?” “Yes, I’m going to bed,” John said, and went into his room. He closed the door and pulled the bureau up against it, keeping the bat at his side. Damn, he wished he had a phone in his room, or a cell phone, at least. He looked at the alarm clock. It was just after two in the morning. He thought about sneaking out to go to the police, but what if that psycho heard him? No, he’d take care of it before his shoot tomorrow. John lay awake all night, alert for any little noise. Every time he heard the man in the living room groan or move in his sleep, he tensed. As soon as the sun came up, John dressed and sneaked out the fire escape. He went straight to the police station. “Description?” the cop demanded as John tried to tell him what had happened. “I told you, big and scary looking, crazy, and carrying a gun. He told me he’d hurt people. He’s at my place now. Go and get him,” John insisted. “Hair color?”

“I don’t know. I can’t remember. I was scared. I think it was black. He had on a hat.” “Height? Build? Was he white, old, young?” “White, ah, swarthy, maybe Latin, Spanish, but he didn’t have an accent. Maybe he was a member of one of those street gangs. And he was tall, six-ten maybe.” “Six-ten?” the officer echoed in disbelief. “He looked really tall. He had a deep voice. He saw people in the living room that weren’t there. He said he was a cop, had a fake badge, or maybe he killed a cop and…” The cop laughed. “Okay, okay.” “Hell, I have to be on the set in a half hour. Could you go to my place and arrest him, please? I had to talk him out of raping me.” “Don’t worry, we’ll check it out,” the cop said. “If we get him, you’ll have to come down to the station and identify him.” “Okay. Just get him out of my apartment.”

Chapter Two Manuel moaned when he heard the banging on the front door. He winced with pain as he felt his head. Damn it, that stupid actor had really clobbered him with that bat. He couldn’t believe Sam had rented out his room without even telling him. He got up off the sofa. “Just a minute, keep your pants on. Who is it?” “Police, open up!” “Police?” Manuel mouthed. What in hell were the police doing here at this time of day? “Look, guys,” he called out, “I’m on vacation, so fuck you. I’m not coming out to play today! I just got off of a…” Suddenly he heard, “On three … one, two, three…” “Whoa!” Manuel yelled as two police officers in uniform came busting through the front door, guns drawn. “Get your hands up! Get your hands up!” one of them barked. Manuel put his hands up, his eyes wide, as one guy pushed him down on the floor and told him to stay there. He held Manuel’s face to the floor while the other searched him. Then he was told to get to his feet. He didn’t recognize either of these guys. They didn’t work at his precinct. “Hey,” the one cop said, moving over to the coffee table, “he does have a gun.” “Okay, buddy.” The other pulled his arms behind his back and slapped on the cuffs. “What’s the story here? Talk, and talk fast.” “What’s the charge?” Manuel demanded. “To begin, breaking and entering, unlawful confinement, uttering threats of rape, possession of a firearm; would you like me to continue?” Manuel’s eyes widened. “Rape?” “You heard me. You got identification?” “Over there in the pocket of my coat,” Manuel grumbled. Rape? “That actor is nuts.” “Hey, this guy’s on the job.” The officer held up Manuel’s badge and flashed it at his partner. “Manuel Sanchez?” asked the cop. “That’s me,” Manuel replied. “What are you doing here?” “I live here!” Manuel growled. “I came home last night and some actor guy was sleeping in my bed.” “He says you tried to rape him.” The cop eyed him. “Yeah, right, he wishes,” he muttered. The cop took off the cuffs. “Sorry about this, Detective,” the cop murmured. “We apologize.” “You were just doing your job,” he told him grudgingly. After a few more minutes of discussion, they left. Manuel paced around furiously and swore, willing himself to calm down. Eventually, he took a shower and shaved. When he walked into the bedroom and looked in the closet for clean clothes, he couldn’t believe it. All his stuff was missing. ****

When John came home at four o’clock that afternoon, he examined the front door. It had been damaged. The police must have come and arrested that guy. He walked in, relieved. He’d been lucky. He came from a small town originally. He knew that New York could be a dangerous city. It was a good thing he kept that bat beside his bed. When that man suddenly came walking out of the bedroom, wearing nothing but a towel wrapped around his waist, John just about jumped out of his skin. “Jesus Christ, what are you still doing here? I thought you’d be—” “In jail?” he bellowed. This wasn’t the man he saw last night, was it? He didn’t think the intruder had looked that good. It didn’t matter. He had to remember that this guy was nuts, and dangerous. And at the moment, he looked furious. The man came closer to him now, dark brown eyes filled with anger. “You almost got me killed! Why in hell did you tell the police all that bullshit?” “Bullshit?” John gasped. “I wouldn’t lie to the police.” “You told them I threatened to rape you!” “You did!” “I did not!” “You showed me your gun. You told me you hurt people!” John countered, backing into the corner. “And where in the hell are my things?” “Things?” “Clothes, underwear, socks, things!” “Your things?” John blinked. “You mean you actually live here?” The man glared at him. “What in hell do you think I’m doing here? Yes, I live here. I’m Manuel.” “John.” “Okay, now that we know who we are, where in hell are my things?” John winced. Sam had told him someone else had been in the room before him. Oh God. This must be him. “Well, you’re not going to like it.” John winced. Manuel threw up his hands. “Really? What a fucking surprise. I haven’t liked too damn much so far.” “Well, I didn’t think you’d be back. I gave your things to the poor.” John looked at the floor. “You did what?” he asked, his jaw dropping. “I had no room in the closet and they were very tacky.” There was a strained silence, then John ran his gaze over him. “You do need clothes, I guess.” “You guess?” Manuel eyed him. “Could you just please tell me how come you’ve taken up residence in my room?” “I rented it from Sam.” “You rented my room from Sam?” John nodded, trying not to stare. “Maybe you should put some clothes on.” He couldn’t help but notice what a great body he had, all those muscles and in all the right places too. The shoulders were broad, the skin golden, torso making a V shape down to a narrow waist, flat stomach and a delightfully round, compact ass. “I’d love to,” he replied, his voice rising at each word, “if I had any clothes to put on!”

John tried to smile. “So you’re not a killer?” “Not by nature, but right now, I think I could be tempted.” He glared at John. “Look.” John dared to move toward him. “We can find a way to work this out. I’d be willing to split my half of the rent with you.” “Really?” he eyed him again, folding muscular arms across his chest. “How much rent are you paying?” “Seven hundred and forty, but…” “Why, that little bastard,” Manuel muttered. “He’s not paying a bloody cent. Where in hell is he?” “Gone for a few weeks,” John said, narrowing his eyes. “I don’t get it. You lived in that room, right?” “Present tense; I live in that room. Sam had no right to give away my room while I was gone. And you had no right to give away my clothes!” “Ah, so where were you all that time, in jail?” “Jail?” Manuel repeated, his eyes widening. “Oh God…” John whispered. Suddenly it dawned on him. “A cop. Sam told me that the last guy in my room was a cop. That’s why you have a gun.” Manuel gave him a mocking smile. “Aren’t you a genius?” “Okay, give me a break.” John took a breath. “What was I supposed to think? A strange man breaks into my room at two in the morning and—” “My room!” “That’s to be determined.” John held up his hand. “Anyway, Sam told me you had a boyfriend, so you can live there.” “Well, I’m not going to live there.” “Why not?” “Because this is half my apartment, and my rent is paid up.” John shrugged and walked into the kitchen. “Prove it!” he said. “Is your name on the lease?” “No. Sam’s name is on the lease, but Mrs. Levine has been getting my share of the rent for two years.” Manuel followed him into the kitchen. “Look, I’m making good money right now. I’ll move once the film is done, but I can’t at the moment. My life is too hectic. I’ll buy you some clothes. The stuff I threw out, I’ll compensate you for…” “I thought you said you gave my stuff to the poor.” “I lied. The poor didn’t want that stuff, believe me. My God, who picks out your clothes, honey?” John began looking for something to eat in the refrigerator. “Now he’s a fashion commentator,” Manuel muttered, rolling his eyes. “I pick out my own clothes, honey,” he mocked. John turned around. “Don’t get your panties in a twist … I mean … towel.” He laughed. “So clever.” “So your boyfriend is an actor too, eh?” John leaned against the counter, gazing at him. “I bet I know him.” “Jeff’s not my boyfriend anymore.” “Oh, I see. Okay. You know what? I think we can share the place until the film is finished. Then you can have your room back.”

“I don’t want to share this place with you. You’re an asshole and just a little paranoid.” John’s eyes widened. “I’m not the one in a towel, honey.” “Stop calling me honey,” Manuel said between clenched teeth. “And I’m in a towel because you didn’t approve of my wardrobe and threw out my clothes.” “I’ll lend you some sweatpants and a T-shirt, but you’re not wearing my underwear,” John told him, narrowing his eyes. Manuel just looked at him. “I have this policy. I don’t let people wear my underwear unless I’m intimate with them.” John went into the bedroom and pulled open the drawers of the bureau. “Well, I’m not going to fuck you so that I can wear your underwear.” John blushed. “No, no, I didn’t ask you to. All right, so what do we do about Sam?” John handed him a pair of red sweatpants and a blue T-shirt. “These are going to go really well with black boots,” Manuel muttered. “They’re my cleaning clothes. They’ll do for now. And believe me, it’s an improvement from what I saw. Get dressed, I’m taking you shopping.” “Shopping?” he mouthed. “We have to get you some clothes. Don’t think you can walk around the apartment all day half naked.” Manuel smiled. “Why? Is it distracting?” John met his gaze. “Just a few hours ago, you threatened to rape and kill me. Now you’re flirting with me?” “I did not threaten to rape or kill you,” he muttered, pulling on the sweatpants. “Although, I may still kill you before the night’s over, and the rape part, well, that’s only in your warped imagination. Oh, and by the way, I’m not flirting with you.” John let his gaze run over him. “You know with the right management, you’d be pretty hot.” “Well, I’ll manage myself, thanks.” “You got a car?” “Yes. Let’s go.” **** John studied him as he drove. God, he was hot; he was hotter than hot. He was a hunk. Too bad he had such a caustic personality. “So how come your boyfriend dumped you?” John asked suddenly as Manuel stopped at a light. “He didn’t dump me.” “You dumped him?” Manuel ignored that. John looked out the window. “Obviously you don’t feel like talking about it. Maybe after the shopping, we could go and have a latte and—” “This is not a bonding session. I am not going to talk to you about my ex over a latte. I need some jeans and a couple of T-shirts, some socks and underwear. That’s it. Then we’re going back to the apartment and talk about where you’re going to sleep tonight.” “Me?” John gasped. “Why me? You can take the sofa, or better yet, Sam’s room. It has a lock but since he’s not paying rent … well…” “You’re right. Why in the hell should we take the scraps? I’ll sleep in his room.”

“Well, finally we agree on something.” John nodded. “Oh, there’s the store I like, that boutique for men over there. We’ll get your clothes there. They have great shirts and…” “We’re going to the Mart.” “The Mart? No wonder your boyfriend dumped you!” “My boyfriend didn’t dump me!” Manuel scowled. “Are you just annoying by nature, or did you take a seminar?” “Okay, okay … sorry.” John made a face. Manuel walked into the Mart, bought two pairs of jeans, four T-shirts, six pairs of white briefs, and six pairs of white socks. It took ten minutes. “What do you do on Sundays?” John asked him, looking at the six pairs of socks. They walked to the cash register. “I wash them.” “Oh.” John nodded. “Well, the four basic color groups are well represented.” “I know you’re being smart”—Manuel turned to him as they waited in line—“but I have my ‘I don’t give a shit face’ on today.” “You’re pretty funny,” John said with a smile. * Manuel was struck for a minute by the smile. John had a nice smile, a smile like a little boy. Manuel shook his head. Actors. John looked at his bill in the car. “Wow, cost me all of one hundred and fifty bucks. Are you sure you don’t want me to buy you a Coke with that?” “Coke? What happened to the latte?” Manuel cast him a glance, starting the engine. “Latte goes with Le Chic Men’s shop, Coke goes with the Mart.” “Oh, I see,” Manuel replied. “Sorry, I don’t know the rules.” “You don’t look much like a rule follower. We should get you settled into Sam’s room as soon as we get home. I have to be on the set at six tomorrow morning.” “I’ll take care of it.” “I guess you could put your six pairs of socks and underwear away in the drawer, and hang up your two pair of jeans and four T-shirts all by yourself.” Manuel didn’t comment. “So tell me about your job,” John said, settling back in the seat. “Why?” “’Cause you obviously aren’t into shopping and you don’t like to talk about anything that remotely resembles emotion. Besides, I’m interested.” “I pretend to be someone else so that I can gather evidence and solve crimes.” “That’s pretty cool,” John told him. “It’s a little like acting.” Manuel looked at him. “You have to act, don’t you?” “Sometimes you have to impersonate people, yes, I guess so.” “I find it fascinating. It’s like acting with a mission. It must be dangerous.” “It is sometimes.” “And that’s what you like about it, right?” “Why do you say that?” “’Cause you look like the James Bond type.” Manuel laughed. “I’m no James Bond.”

“But you are a bad boy.” “Now who’s flirting with whom?” “Not,” John said with a laugh. “I was just thinking that if you’re as adventurous in bed as you are on the job, I’m surprised your boyfriend dumped you,” “What did you say?” Manuel barked. He pulled the car over to the side of the road and glared at him. “Hey, is this the part where you make a pass at me?” John gave him a cautious look. “Don’t let that bad boy comment go to your head.” “No, this is not the part where I make a pass at you, but it might be the part where I kick your ass. Stop saying my boyfriend dumped me. I told you, he didn’t dump me.” “You’re really touchy about that,” John pointed out. “And I’m not scared of you anymore. You’re a cop. You’re not allowed to kill me.” Manuel grumbled under his breath and began to drive again. After a few minutes, he said, “Okay, so tell me about the film you’re doing.” “Really? You’re really interested in my movie?” “No, not really, but it’s something to talk about.” John made a face. “Why should I tell you, if you’re not interested?” “Okay, okay, I’m interested. Go on. Tell me.” “Well, I’m starring in a film called Mistaken with the Martin Lavallee.” “Who?” “Who? Who?” John repeated, looking horrified. “You don’t know Martin Lavallee?” “Name doesn’t ring a bell.” “I can’t believe you. He is a hunk, drop-dead gorgeous, and a great actor.” “So, what’s the movie about?” John went on to talk about the movie and the other actors. “Who do you play?” “I play Helena’s younger brother, Romano.” “Romano?” “Yeah.” “Isn’t that a type of cheese?” “Get real. It’s a very romantic name. Helena confides in my character about her love for Frank.” “Sounds like a boring piece of crap to me.” “It’s a great film,” John countered. “It’s going to make me a star. And I’ll get to sleep with Martin Lavallee.” “Why would you want to sleep with him?” “Are you kidding? Every gay man in the world wants to sleep with him.” “I’m a gay man in this world and I don’t want to sleep with him,” Manuel told him. “You don’t even know who he is. And you’re weird.” Manuel drove into the parking lot. “Does he know of your ambition?” John laughed. “No. But he’s noticed me. I’ll sleep with a lot of actors before I’m through. I’m choosy, though.” “Umm,” Manuel replied, “sounds like it.” “Don’t be a smart-ass, and don’t forget your precious purchases from the Mart.” Upstairs in the apartment, John pointed to the padlock on Sam’s door. “He bolted it.” “Well, we’ll just have to unbolt it.”

“What are you going to do, macho man, shoot it off?” John laughed. “No. I’m going to pry it off,” Manuel told him, walking into the kitchen. He came back with a small crowbar. John watched as he took off the bolt with one snap. “There,” Manuel said, throwing it aside. He opened the door and snapped on the light. “Holy shit.” The walls were covered with pictures of naked men and gay porn. John howled with laughter. “Wow.” He walked in, looked around. “At least you’ll have something to keep you company now that you’re single again. I wondered how come he spent so much time in his room.” “This is coming down,” Manuel said, and began to tear the pictures off the wall. John started to help him. “Well, I can’t say I blame you. It’s a little overdone.” “A little?” Manuel threw back at him. John grinned as he pushed back some of his shoulder-length curly dark hair. “I thought you had an early call tomorrow,” Manuel said after John had helped him move some furniture around. “I’m not going to be able to sleep with you banging stuff around in here all night. I might as well help you.” An hour or so later they were finished and Sam’s room was set up so that Manuel could sleep in it. They stood together in the kitchen sharing a glass of Coke. “Thanks,” Manuel told him. “No problem. So what happens when Sam comes back?” “Before or after I kick his ass?” Manuel growled. John laughed. “Well, he’s going to pay us back for his share of the rent.” “Are you going to continue to live here after I leave?” “Probably. It suits me. I’m not home a hell of a lot.” “So, the guy’s name was Jeff, eh? I know a lot of actors. What’s he done? Like I said before, I probably know him.” Manuel slammed his empty glass down the counter and gave him a meaningful look. “You probably don’t.” “Oh, come on,” John complained. “Stop being such an ass. Just tell me why you broke up. What’s the big deal?” “Why is it so important to you?” Manuel asked, flopping on the sofa and turning on the television. “It intrigues me.” John shrugged. “You cheated on him and he found out. That’s it, isn’t it?” “Yep,” Manuel replied, flipping channels. “You’re lying. You broke up because of sex.” “Right,” Manuel told him. “Too much, or too little?” “What?” “He wanted too much or too little?” “He was like you, a cold fish.” “I am not a cold fish,” John protested. “Okay, I give up.” “Good.” “Was he—”

“Forget it, John,” Manuel threatened. John raised a hand. “All right. I’m going to bed. Good night.” “Night,” Manuel said. He closed his eyes after a few minutes and tried to sleep, but instead he found himself thinking about Jeff. Right now he had expected to be lying in bed beside him, making love. He never thought he’d return to find him in bed with another guy. It had hurt a lot, especially since he’d finally made up his mind to move in with Jeff on a permanent basis. Anyway, it was a good thing it had happened when it did.

Chapter Three The next morning when John came out of his room, he found Manuel fast asleep on the sofa. He walked over and looked down at him. He was lying on his back, his face turned toward the television. He had one of those morning shadows on his jaw. His hair fell over his forehead. John almost reached out and touched him. He was far too goodlooking for his own good. He stood there for far longer than he should have, then headed for the shower. Before he left, he went over to look at him one last time. “Bye, sexy,” he whispered. He was a doll. It went well on the set that day. Martin Lavallee made a point of reminding him that he was supposed to come to his condo to go over some lines. John hadn’t forgotten. How could he? He hummed a little tune all day. He left the set at six o’clock, and went back to the apartment first so he could take a shower and change his clothes. When he arrived, Manuel was out in the hallway, fiddling with the front door. “What are you doing?” John asked him as he came down the hall. “Fixing the door. The police damaged it when they came busting through it. Remember, you told them I was a rapist?” “Oh that.” John laughed, waving his hand. “Yes, that. I thought you’d be ass-up for a famous movie star by now?” Manuel muttered. John clicked his tongue. “Very charming, Manuel.” “Thank you.” “I’d like to clean up and change my clothes first.” “Oh, I see. You know the other day when I said I didn’t know Martin what’s his name?” Manuel commented just as John was about to go inside. “Yeah.” “Well, I do.” “Of course you do. He’s famous. You saw him on television today, right?” “No. I just found out that I almost slugged him in a bar a few nights ago.” “What?” John blasted. “He tried to make a pass at me. I was drunk and when I went to hit him, I missed.” “Gee, thanks for sharing.” John made a face. “Don’t you know it’s not nice to hit people?” “This coming from a guy who hit me in the head with a bat,” Manuel mocked. “Well, that’s different,” John protested. “I thought you were…” “A rapist,” Manuel replied dryly. “I remember your little fantasy.” “Not a fantasy. Anyway, it couldn’t have been him.” “Why not … ’cause he’s a famous hotshot actor?” “You’re not his taste at all.” “Of course I didn’t have my snazzy Mart jeans on. That might have made a difference.” John shook his head. “Martin wouldn’t even look at a guy in those jeans.” “What a snob, you too, by the way, and I didn’t have them on, so … there you go.” “What were you wearing?”

“What I had on the night you attacked me.” “I did not attack you, and Martin definitely wouldn’t of … you were dressed like a street person.” Manuel laughed. “What were you doing in a bar anyway?” “Drinking.” “You were drunk.” “Very. I was having a bad day. I wasn’t myself. That actor jerk just added to it, that’s all.” “Um.” “Oh, by the way,” Manuel said. “I spoke to Mrs. Levine today.” “Mrs. who?” “The landlady.” “Oh, and?” “I told her about Sam and the little ride he tried to take us for. She wasn’t happy. She told me when he comes back, she plans to evict him. She’s willing to turn the lease over to me.” “Good. I’ll probably be gone by then. But if I’m not … ah…” “You can stay, as long as you pay your share,” Manuel told him. “I’m gone a lot.” “Gee thanks, most benevolent master.” John gave him a little bow, then laughed. “Well, I have to shower and change. Have fun playing handyman.” Then he paused. “Hey, why didn’t you sleep in the bed last night?” “What?” “You stayed on the sofa. How come?” He shrugged. “Fell asleep, that’s all.” John nodded, then went to take his shower. The phone rang a few hours after John left. Manuel was watching the hockey game. It was Ziggy, his best friend. “Hey there, how you doing?” “Okay. What about you?” “Fine. Just wanted you to know that Jeff called. He wants me to ask you if he can call you.” “No. Tell him I have nothing to say to him.” There was silence. Then Ziggy said, “He’s hurting pretty bad.” There was no reply. “Manny. Why are you being so stubborn about this? Talk to the guy.” “I … I can’t right now,” he told him. “Tell him I’ll call him when I’m ready and we’ll talk.” “Okay. So how is that weird roommate of yours?” Ziggy couldn’t stop laughing when Manuel had told him about the baseball bat and how the cops had busted down the front door wanting to arrest him for rape. “So, is he cute?” “Who?” “This John guy who hates your clothes?” “Cute? I don’t know … I guess so.” “You guess so?” “He’s an actor, Ziggy, which means I’d rather have my penis chopped off than get

into bed with him.” “Okay.” Ziggy laughed. “So what’s he look like?” “Ah … he’s got curly black hair … nice eyes. He’s around five-ten … and slim … nice tone.” “Ah, you did notice?” Ziggy pointed out. “How can I not notice?” Manuel muttered. “But he’s goofy and definitely not interested in me. He went off tonight to screw Martin whatever his name is … that actor.” “The French hunk?” Ziggy laughed again. “The one I told you that you nearly plugged in the bar the night … you know, the night you found Jeff with that guy?” “That’s him.” “Does John know you almost hit that guy in a bar?” “I told him. He said it must have been someone else. He doesn’t think the high and mighty Martin Lavallee would give me a second look. I don’t wear the right jeans.” Ziggy chuckled. “He should have been there. It was that actor all right, and he was coming on to you hot and heavy. You know, I bet he likes you.” “Who, Martin Lavallee?” “No, John, stupid. You told me you paraded naked in front of him.” “I did not parade naked in front of him. I had a towel on,” Manuel countered. “You might as well have been naked. I know you have a great body and I’m straight, so imagine. You probably traumatized the guy for life.” “I doubt it,” Manuel remarked. “Anyway it’s not like that. We’re making the best of a bad situation.” “Doesn’t sound like it. You’re sleeping alone. Maybe that John guy is beating off down the hallway just thinking about you in that towel.” “I doubt it.” “What are you going to do about Sam? You could get him brought up on charges for fraud, sticking it to you guys with the rent and everything.” “I just want to stay in my apartment and teach him a lesson. I suspect he couldn’t get a job and got desperate. Actors!” “Well, I say if that John guy is cute, why spend your nights in separate rooms?” “Because I’m not getting involved with any more actors, and I’m not his type. He drives me nuts. He hates my clothes. And he’s … an actor.” Ziggy laughed. “And stop laughing. I got to go,” Manuel said. “You are coming to the baseball game with me on Saturday?” “Of course. I wouldn’t miss that game for anything. Check you later,” Manuel said, and hung up. Later, he started thinking about Jeff, the places they used to eat, the walks they had together, the fights, the making up. He missed him. He wished he could find it in his heart to forgive the guy, but deep down he didn’t think he could. Two years down the drain for one mistake. The funny thing was, he didn’t really blame Jeff. He had been gone too damn much of the time. Jeff just got lonely. It would take a pretty special guy to be with him. Maybe he was better off alone. **** John was tired the next day on the set. He spent six hours in makeup waiting to say

one line. And last night with Martin had been a huge letdown. All the guy did was talk about how great he was, then stare at himself naked in the mirrors he had over his bed. John felt as if he were making love to himself most of the time. He went to pour some coffee, not paying any attention to the two production assistants nearby, until he heard the names Jeff and Manuel. John looked over at them sharply, interrupting. “I’m sorry, did you say Manuel … you’re not talking about Manuel Sanchez, are you?” “Yeah,” the blond one said. “You know Manuel?” “In fact … I … yes.” John nodded. The other guy shook his head. “Manuel caught Jeff banging another guy when he came back home unexpectedly. Do you know Jeff?” “His boyfriend,” John muttered. “He’s my former roommate. Poor guy,” he replied. “Manuel is being so stubborn. He won’t take his calls at all.” John was riveted to the spot. “Well, if he’s finished with Jeff”—the second guy winked—“I’d try him on for size. He’s a gorgeous hunk, all those muscles and those eyes. Yum.” The blond guy nodded. “Not only gorgeous, Jeff says he’s incredible in bed. I think that’s what he’s going to miss the most.” “He’s good in bed?” John echoed, feeling suddenly like a voyeur. “Yep,” the blond said, “Jeff says he’s the best he’s ever had. And believe it, Jeff has been around. He said that guy knows his way around a blow job. And he’s got a cock to satisfy big time.” John swallowed. “Ah, I got to go,” he said and left the room.

Chapter Four Around eight o’clock that night, John walked into the apartment and called out comically, “I’m home, darling. Miss me?” Manuel came out of the kitchen wearing a pair of black leather pants and an openneck pale blue shirt. His hair fell loose over his shoulders and he actually smiled at him when he walked in. He had that wicked shadow going on too. For a minute, John couldn’t speak. Oh my God. He couldn’t help hearing those comments in his head, the ones about his prowess in bed. He looked scrumptious. “Yes, darling, I missed you like crazy,” he mocked, meeting his gaze. He grinned. “You look nice, I mean, you look incredible. What’s the occasion? You’re not going to try to seduce me after all, are you?” Manuel tilted his head, then shook it firmly. “No. I went out today and bought myself something I could wear to a club. You approve?” “Beats the Mart. Are we going to a club, lover? I thought we were just going to stay home and cuddle tonight?” John gave him a pretend look of disappointment. “I’m going out,” he replied casually. “Really?” “Yes. I’m tired of staying at home and feeling sorry for myself.” “Is this a one-man party or…?” John looked around self-consciously. Manuel considered that for a moment. “I was going alone but if you want to come with me, feel free.” “Where are we going, dressed like that?” John gave him an appreciative look. “I was going to this club called Whispers. Do you know it?” “Yes. It’s a classy place. A gay bar for classy guys,” John replied. “I’d like to go.” “Okay, but on one condition!” “What’s that?” John asked him coyly. “You don’t read anything into it. It’s not a date.” “No problem,” John told him, “but I would like at least one dance.” “Why?” Manuel narrowed his eyes. “Because if I walk in there with a guy that looks as good as you do, I’ll have to dance with you once to secure my reputation.” Manuel smiled. “More rules I don’t know.” It was such a sweet smile. It caused John to pause and look at him as if he was seeing him for the first time. Then after a few seconds, Manuel nodded. “It’s a deal.” “I haven’t eaten anything. I’d like to take a shower first and change. Give me a half hour?” “Sure,” he shrugged. “The night is young.” An hour later, they were in the parking lot at Whispers. John wanted to tell Manuel what he’d overheard at work today but he didn’t. He could only imagine how hurt he must have been, coming home to find his lover with another guy. “You keep your feelings deep inside you, don’t you?” John asked him as they began to walk toward the front door of the club.

“What?” Manuel said, looking at him. “You don’t show your feelings.” “About?” “When you’re hurt.” John shrugged his shoulders. He was wearing a red silk shirt with black dress pants. He should have brought a jacket. He was feeling cold. “Where is this coming from now?” Manuel narrowed his eyes. “I know what happened with that Jeff guy.” Manuel sighed. “Jeff again?” “You have a right to feel pain. Is that why you’re sleeping on the couch?” “Okay, that’s it!” Manuel threw up his hands. He turned around. “Where are you going?” “Home.” “Why?” John insisted, running to catch up. He put his hand on his forearm. Manuel pulled away. “I don’t want to talk about Jeff.” “I know why you broke up with him. You found him with another man.” “How in the hell would you know that?” Manuel demanded. “I … well … I heard it at the studio. Two guys that work off-screen were discussing it. They know Jeff, I guess. One was his ex-roommate.” “Just great, my entire sex life is gossip on a movie set.” “Not your entire sex life.” John smirked. Then he sobered. “Manuel, you must be hurting. Did you love the guy?” He turned away for a minute. “I want to help.” “You know how you can help?” Manuel turned back around. “How?” “By not talking about fucking Jeff. I just want to have a good time tonight and forget.” John nodded. “But I want you to know that if you want to talk about it…” Manuel placed a hand on his shoulder. “Fine. Okay. Let’s get this over with. What do you want to know?” “Why did he do that?” “Fuck another guy? I guess because when he wanted me, I wasn’t there.” “That’s no excuse. Did he love you?” “He said he did. He was pressuring me to move in with him. I put him off. Finally when I decided to give him what he wanted, I found him…” He swallowed. “It doesn’t matter.” “It does matter. If you still love him, maybe you can work it out.” “I don’t want to work it out,” he said, shaking his head. “I feel…” “What? Tell me. It’s okay.” “I feel betrayed. I don’t think I can get past that betrayal. Now, can we stop this touchy-feely crap and go inside now?” “Sure, just one more thing.” “What now?” he groaned. “I’ve poured out my heart to you. What else do you want?” John smiled at him. “It’s just that I know Jeff is really sorry, and that he still loves you.”

Manuel met his gaze. “According to the gossip on your movie set?” John nodded. “Yes.” They walked again toward the front door. “So how was your date with Mr. Wonderful?” “Not wonderful. Very disappointing, if you must know, but it’s off the record, okay?” “Okay.” “The guy needs a map, with step by step instructions, and even if he had one, I swear he’d still get lost.” Manuel paused for a second, then threw back his head and laughed. “So I guess I didn’t miss anything.” “You did yourself a favor, believe me.” John rolled his eyes. “He’s a great actor, though. I don’t regret it.” “Well, that’s the thing.” Manuel paid the admission and they walked in. “Don’t do anything you’re going to regret later.” “Ha! As if any one of us guys could follow that rule.” “Tell me about it.” They got a table. The music was playing loud; the place was packed. They ordered drinks. “We are being checked out by many eyes,” John told Manuel. Manuel made a face. “Umm … wouldn’t give most of them a second glance.” John looked at Manuel for a moment. “The only one in here worth more than a second glance is you.” Manuel’s eyes widened a little, but he didn’t say anything. They began to play a slow song, something about loving you at first sight. John grabbed his arm suddenly. “Hey,” he yelled, jumping up from his seat, “I love this song. Let’s go. We need to dance to this one.” Manuel groaned as John pulled him to his feet. “Come on, you promised. The first dance was mine. It’s slow, it’s romantic. Come on. We’ll show ourselves off. The men will come swarming.” Manuel rolled his eyes as John took his hand and led him out to the dance floor. They went into each others arms, not too close, just close enough to be dancing together. John put his hands on Manuel’s back and moved them down to his waist. He had an incredible body, hard and well-toned with just the right amount of muscle. They moved together. Then John moved closer and placed his head on Manuel’s shoulder. One hand trailed down over his hip and Manuel reached around and pulled it back up. John raised his head, then laughed. Their eyes met. “Be good,” Manuel told him. “I was just exploring.” John grinned. “Never mind. You’re not Marco Polo, and my body is not the New World.” John laughed. “Are you modest?” “No. But I have a new rule. I’m never getting involved with an actor again.” “I was trying to feel your ass, Manuel, not ask you to marry me,” John teased. “Anyway, if you’re swearing off actors, where are you going to find any good-looking men?” Manuel rolled his eyes. “Come on, John, don’t be so modest. There are always

firemen.” “Or cops?” Manuel laughed. “You wouldn’t say that if you could see most of them.” John sobered. “Not all actors are jerks. There are other jerks in the world that aren’t actors.” “Yeah, yeah. Now shut up and dance,” Manuel told him. John put his head back down on his shoulder, tightening his hold on his waist. God, Manuel’s arms around him felt so good, too good. He was prepared to stay there all night when the song ended. “Thanks,” John said, standing back and looking up at him. “For what?” “For confiding in me outside. For the dance. If I’m a good boy, do I get another at the end of the night?” “Maybe. And it depends on what you mean by good boy.” “Define it for me.” “Oh no, I’m not getting into that,” Manuel said, walking off the dance floor. The next few hours passed quickly. They danced with different partners, sat drinking together at the table, and then at a quarter to one, John leaned over to Manuel and said, “I’ve been pretty good.” They were playing some slow song John had never heard before but he didn’t care. He’d been watching Manuel most of the night, and he couldn’t deny that he was the hottest looking man in the place. Manuel took his hand and they headed for the dance floor. He pulled John against him, this time closer. “Umm,” John said, pushing back his hair, “this is nice. Is this you, or the couple of beers you’ve drank?” “This is me and the couple of beers I’ve drank,” Manuel replied, running his hand up John’s back and keeping the other at his waist. John could feel almost every muscle in Manuel’s body as he pressed closer to him. He lifted his face off his shoulder and moved his cheek against his. “If I decided to kiss you at this moment, would you slug me?” Manuel reared his head back. “No, I wouldn’t slug you, but…” “But what?” John met his gaze, beautiful brown eyes. “But … I…” he began as John’s mouth moved toward his. John’s lips gently touched Manuel’s and then moved away. Manuel ran his tongue over his lips and John smiled. “Should we try it again?” He felt Manuel’s arms tighten around him, then his mouth came down and captured his. They kissed deeply for a few seconds, broke apart, and then kissed again. This time John’s hand roamed down past his waist without being redirected. The song ended and Manuel finally pulled away from him. They were both a little breathless. Manuel turned and walked off the dance floor. John followed. They had another drink. Manuel didn’t mention the kiss at all. They decided to leave shortly after. In the car, John looked out the window. Manuel drove silently. “Well,” John finally managed to say, “What was that?” “What was what?” “That, back there in the club?” “A dance?”

“Some dance!” John replied softly. “I don’t usually get a hard-on just from dancing.” “Look”—Manuel glanced at him as he stopped for a red light—“we got caught up in the heat of the moment. Don’t get too crazy over one kiss.” “It was more than one kiss,” John told him. “And it was no ordinary kiss.” Manuel turned the corner and pulled the car over to the curb. “John, I’m sorry. I drank a little too much and I…” “Okay. I just wanted to know where I stood.” “You stand as my roommate and maybe, eventually my friend. Is that okay with you?” He looked over at him. John shrugged. “I guess so. I don’t have much of a choice.” Manuel sighed and started the car again. “Just pretend it never happened.” John looked back out the window. How in the hell was he supposed to do that? He’d never felt like that from a kiss before. Back at the apartment, they both went their separate ways to bed. John noticed that Manuel went into Sam’s room for the first time. He wasn’t sure what that meant. John was having a lot of difficulty sleeping, thinking of Manuel lying there in bed across the hall from him. Those kisses they’d shared were still burning on his lips. Jeff had told his friend that Manuel had been the best he’d ever had. How could he not think about that? “Damn it.” John punched his pillow, then sat up. It was no use. He couldn’t sleep. He went into the kitchen for some water. As he stood there drinking from his glass, wishing he could pour it over his head, he heard movement behind him. He turned around to see Manuel standing there, almost naked except for a pair of white briefs. God, he’d never seen a sexier man, even if the underwear was from the Mart. Okay, this definitely was not helping the situation. He was speechless. Manuel moved closer to him. He didn’t speak either. He placed a hand on his chest. John sucked in some breath, closed his eyes. Manuel’s strong arms wrapped around him and soft lips moved down to his throat. John ran his hands over the muscles of Manuel’s back. Suddenly, Manuel went down on his knees and placed his lips at the waist of John’s pajama bottoms. “Oh God,” John breathed, placing his hands in Manuel’s thick black hair. Manuel slipped his fingers in the waistband and pulled the pajamas down over his hips. They fell at John’s ankles as Manuel ran the tip of his tongue down the length of John’s shaft. He paused and looked up at him for a moment. John tightened his hold in Manuel’s hair. “You’re not going to call the police, are you?” John urged Manuel’s face closer to his cock again. “You are the police,” he moaned. Manuel chuckled softly as his hands moved up John’s calves and clutched his ass cheeks. “Oh yeah,” he whispered softly, licking his shaft again, “I remember now.” John let his head go back as strong hands massaged his ass and Manuel’s lips and tongue started to pay some serious attention to his cock. “Baby,” he grunted as his cock began to react favorably to the attention. He didn’t need to give this one a map. Manuel pushed John’s legs apart and moved down under him between his legs. A finger moved in between his ass cheeks, easily located his entrance, and teased it a little. John’s cock was now enveloped in the satiny lining of Manuel’s mouth. His breathing grew erratic.

Manuel took his cock with great enthusiasm, his tongue and lips applying exquisite pressure in all the right places. He’d flattened his tongue, taking John’s cock deeper and deeper into his throat. Suddenly he began to swallow, massaging John’s cock with his throat. There was the most pleasurable feeling of tightness around the circumference of his shaft, right below the head. John cried out something unintelligible as Manuel continued to massage his cock with his throat and lick his balls with the tip of his tongue. Jesus, he’d never had his entire penis in some guy’s throat before. He’d heard about deep throating but… “Oh my God … ahhhhhhhhh … yessssssssssss,” he hollered out, his hips jerking powerfully as he came. Manuel stood up and pulled him close, kissing his mouth passionately, his erection jutting into John’s hip. “I want to fuck you,” he demanded, his mouth moving to John’s chest where he lightly tongued his right nipple. “Um, yes, yes.” John nodded. He pulled down Manuel’s shorts, his gaze seized by the pleasing sight of Manuel’s more than substantial cock. “Um, it’s so thick and … come on,” he urged, pulling him by the hand to his bedroom. “I have everything you need.” “Yes,” he grinned, “you do.” John pushed Manuel against the wall for a minute and kissed his mouth hotly, moving a hand down his chest to his cock. He wrapped his fist around it, enjoying the feel of it, imagining what it was going to feel like inside of him. “Delicious,” he whispered, “what a hunk you are, hung like a horse … um…” He let his lips play against his nipples, licking and teasing. He stroked his cock hard. Manuel grunted, letting his head go back against the wall. “Shit, can you give a blow job, or what? I don’t think I can match that one,” he whispered, on his knees now, licking Manuel’s balls as he ran his fingers over his shaft. Manuel took him down to the floor. “You don’t have to. I have other plans,” he breathed. John laughed and struggled away. “Lube, condoms, in the drawer.” He scrambled up on the bed and lay on his stomach. Manuel crawled on the bed and put his arms around his waist. He turned him around in his arms. “I want to see your face,” he said. “I want to look in your eyes when I fuck you.” That was one of the most erotic things he’d ever heard. John swallowed hard as Manuel squeezed the lube onto his hands and reached underneath him. He lifted John’s legs and very slowly began to massage his entrance with the lube. John didn’t even mind the fact that the lube was cold initially. He was struck by the beauty of this man’s face, the breadth of his shoulders, the sculptured area that was his chest, and not to mention that hard cock of his that was teasing him like crazy, brushing against his thigh. John took the condom Manuel handed him. He sat up and let his gaze rest on his erection for a moment, so big, standing straight and proud. He leaned forward and took the head of Manuel’s cock in his mouth, tasting it, swirling his tongue around it for a few minutes. Manuel closed his eyes. “John,” he grunted. “I know, baby,” he said softly, placing the condom on the tip of his cock and slowly unrolling it. It was so sexy. His own cock was so hard, he was sure he’d lose it the moment Manuel put his cock between his ass cheeks.

Manuel pushed John back and leaned over him. He kissed him slowly and passionately, fondling his cock at the same time. John whimpered. Then, quite roughly, Manuel pulled his legs up over his shoulders and positioned himself. With John’s ass in his hands, he maneuvered his hips so that the head of his cock hit the exact spot it needed to, and then he pushed his hips forward. The sensation of looking up into that face when Manuel’s cock was riding his ass felt like a dream. The way Manuel moved inside of him was driving John out of his mind. He would slow down, then crest into one sensuous, fluid motion just long enough to wring sounds out of him which didn’t sound quite human. Then he gradually sped up again until their fucking reached a frenzied pace and John was completely in his power. They both came almost simultaneously. They lingered there in the aftermath, wrapped in each other’s embrace, sweat-drenched bodies still breathing laboriously. When Manuel pulled away from him, John felt a little lost. He looked over at him lying there on his back, eyes closed. He swallowed hard. He had never seen anything so beautiful. He reached out, and pulled his hard, damp body close to his again. He heard Manuel sigh softly. John’s eyes closed, his entire body relaxed and utterly satisfied. He snuggled close to Manuel and fell asleep.

Chapter Five When John opened his eyes in the morning, there was a smile on his lips. He rolled over, expecting to find Manuel beside him, but he was alone. It was a little after nine. Thank God it was Saturday. He got up, went into the living room and looked around. He checked the rest of the apartment. Manuel wasn’t in the apartment. Just then the phone rang. He hurried to answer it. Maybe it was him. “Manuel?” he said into the phone. “No. I’m … is Manuel there?” It was a man. “No, it’s John. Who’s this?” “Jeff. Manuel told me this morning he’d meet me at nine. He still hasn’t arrived. I’m worried. I just wanted to make sure he left already.” John was having a hard time speaking. His heart was in his throat. “I’m sure he’ll be there soon,” he said, and dropped the receiver. He sat down on the sofa and closed his eyes. Last night had been incredible. There was no question that he could well be on his way to falling in love. But it didn’t look like Manuel was over Jeff. He couldn’t believe that Manuel would go to his ex-lover this morning, after last night. An hour later, Manuel walked in the door. John looked at him from where he still sat on the sofa, and then away. All the memories of last night came flooding over him. He licked his lips. He could still taste him, feel him inside of him. It hurt. He chastised himself for being such an idiot. “Hey.” Manuel smiled at him. “What are you doing?” “Nothing,” he managed, squaring his jaw. “How’s Jeff?” Manuel looked surprised. “How did you know I was with Jeff?” “He called here.” John looked down at his hands. Manuel sat beside him on the sofa. “We have to talk, John.” “I understand,” he replied, biting his lip. He stood up; being that close to him felt painful suddenly. “You and Jeff, well, he’s your boyfriend, and if you’ve found a way to forgive him, even if you did sleep with me … I’m not a child and…” Manuel touched his hand. John pulled it away. “Why are you angry at me? I thought last night we’d connected somehow.” He turned away from him. “Me too, but apparently it didn’t mean much to you.” He couldn’t let him see the tears in his eyes. Manuel took his arm and turned him around to face him. “What are you talking about, baby? Last night meant everything to me. That’s why I called Jeff this morning. I wanted to tell him it was over. I couldn’t do that on the phone. I had to see him in person. I owed him that at least.” John searched his face. “Really? You really told him it was over?” Manuel nodded. “I know I’ll probably regret this,” he said, grinning. “I promised myself no more actors, but John, I think I might be falling in love with you. Do you think maybe…” “Yes, yes, yes…” John yelled, throwing his arms around him and covering his face with kisses. “I do, I do.”

Manuel wrapped his arms around his waist, laughing. “Well, I guess that’s a yes. We’ll just take it from here, okay?” “I think we should take it to Sam’s bedroom,” John suggested. “In fact, let’s take the bed for a test drive right now. And you can teach me that thing you do with your throat, okay?” Manuel grinned. “It seems to have made an impression.” “Oh yeah,” John groaned. “It made an impression, all right.” Manuel reached out and touched John’s hair. John began to pull off Manuel’s T-shirt. “But there’s more to me than just my deep throat.” “Um, I know.” John kissed his mouth. “There’s your cock and your smile and your cock … sorry, I’m a little focused on that right now.” Manuel kissed him back. “You won’t hear any complaints from me.” John paused for a moment. He ran his hands over Manuel’s chest. “How did Jeff take the news?” “Not very well,” Manuel breathed. John began to undo his jeans. “I can understand why. He’s an idiot, and he blew it. But I’m grateful to him for cheating on you.” John looked up at him. “I’m tempted to send him a thank you card.” “I don’t think that’s such a good idea right now.” Manuel raised an eyebrow. “You’re right. He’s probably going through a lot of pain. How about a sympathy card?” “You’re bad.” “Well, he won’t be getting any more blow jobs like before.” “Naughty boy.” “Yes”—John fumbled with his zipper—“and I’m about to get naughtier.” “You know,” Manuel said, giving him a serious look suddenly, “I should tell you, it’s not easy living with a cop, John. Sometimes I’m going to be away for weeks.” John pulled his shorts down, cradled his erection in his palm. He let his gaze travel over Manuel’s hard cock. He gave it a gentle squeeze. “It’s okay. I know that.” Manuel moaned softly, and let his head fall back. “I can hardly wait for you to be inside of me,” John breathed. “Don’t worry, baby, as long as you make love to me the way you did last night when you come home from these jobs, I guarantee you, it won’t be a problem. I’ll save it all up for you, baby. You won’t get out of bed for a week.” “Um, sounds like a plan.” Manuel pressed his body closer, and devoured his mouth. “I will never betray you,” John whispered against his lips. “I already love you too much.” “I believe you. I won’t betray you either.” “You better not,” John threatened, breaking away for a minute, “because you, I’ll kill.” Manuel smiled softly. “That’s clear enough. And you’re killing me right now. Would you come back here, please?” John moved back into his arms. “And don’t forget it.” He kissed his neck. “I won’t.” “And to prove it, get on your knees, and say it again.” He smirked.

Manuel slid to his knees and undid John’s pants. “I won’t ever betray you.” “And this thing you have against actors?” John asked slyly, gasping as he felt Manuel’s tongue swirl around the head of his cock. Manuel paused. “I don’t know. I guess I’ll just have to find a way to get over it,” he whispered. He took John’s cock into his mouth, flattening his tongue. John tightened his hold in Manuel’s hair and whimpered, his knees going weak. Oh, thank God for that one. The End

Right Before My Eyes Chapter One The office was deserted, or so Paul thought. He leaned back in his chair and sighed. It was early September, a time for reconfirming the old accounts, and trying to attract new clients. There had been endless parties and dinners and a mound of paperwork, and although he loved his job, this part of the year was always exhausting. He had done well for a guy who was only twenty-five. This job at WYRT Radio, New York’s premier Rock and Talk Station, had begun as a summer job two years ago. He never dreamed working for Jack Hagen, the number one rock radio advertising man in New York, would turn into a forty thousand dollar a year job. Overall, Paul felt as if he was the luckiest guy in the world when it came to his job. His boss had just told him he was in for a big bonus this year. He loved meeting new people, taking them out for dinners and lunches and getting them to give their advertising business to WYRT. He also loved rock music, and he got to see rock stars every once in awhile when they came in to the station for on air interviews. What more could one ask in life? Even though he had a great job and lots of friends, he was still lonely. He dated a few guys here and there, but he was looking forward to meeting a nice guy, falling in love, and having a long-term relationship. He had played the field for awhile but had grown tired of it. But Mr. Right had not come along. He’d had offers but there were no fireworks, no one who truly did it for him. He knew he was good-looking; some people told him he was far better-looking than he realized, which was a curse sometimes. Men looked at him and thought “sex” and that was great, but often that’s all there was to it. At five-ten, he had a slender, well-toned body, shoulder-length curly dark hair, and big sherry eyes. He had the face of a boy with the body of a man, which gave him great appeal. He was also very outgoing and sociable, which made it easy for him to meet people. But it was always the wrong people he met, good-looking dopes who wanted to play the field. No one seemed to be looking for a relationship anymore. The people at WYRT were, for the most part, good people. There were a few jerks mixed in, but overall, it was a nice place to work. And of course all his gay male friends were jealous because he worked at the same station as Marco Delino. Marco Delino was an entire industry unto himself. He was New York’s foremost DJ, the host of Rock and Talk Radio. With his energy and personality, he had taken the station from twentieth in the ratings to the top ten. Not to mention his looks. Marco was twenty-eight years old, six feet four, with a body a god would envy. He had long black hair, big chocolate brown eyes, and a smile that did a number on anyone he chose to flash it at. There wasn’t anyone immune from that smile of his. All the musicians he interviewed liked him, and he was invited to private parties and given backstage passes that reporters for major rock magazines were sometimes denied. Marco knew rock inside and out. He had an instinct for what the fans wanted to hear and what they wanted to talk about. He’d also been instrumental in launching some popular groups, giving them air time. He was WYRT’s gold mine.

All this, and the guy was actually a very nice man. He wasn’t full of himself at all. He was even friendly with the janitor, and took time out to host charity events. Paul liked him a lot, but they had a rather odd relationship. They often engaged in a kind of vulgar flirting and teasing banter, but in spite of the blatant sexual attraction between them, Paul was careful to keep Marco at arm’s length. And there was a perfectly good explanation for that, one he found himself having to explain over and over to his friends, who didn’t understand why in the hell he hadn’t slept with Marco Delino. He’d met Marco on the very first day he began his job at WYRT radio. He was nervous that day. Jack had been desperate for an assistant because the last one had just quit on him. He’d told Paul rather hastily that he had the job and then headed for the door. Before he left, he pointed to a pile of papers on the desk, saying, “I’ve got no time to hang around, kid. Check those accounts for me and put them in a filing system. We’ll do the paperwork for your contract later.” Paul hadn’t realized that Marco had been observing him from the little room in back where he was pouring coffee. When he came out and extended his hand with that smile of his, Paul almost fell on his ass. He’d seen pictures of him, of course, on billboards and in the papers, but here he was in the flesh, and the pictures didn’t do him justice at all. He was big, masculine, and very handsome, and that smile almost knocked him over backwards. “Don’t pay any attention to Jack,” Marco told him with a deep laugh, putting down his coffee cup. “He doesn’t mean to be an asshole, he was born that way.” Paul’s eyes widened. “No, I never thought he was an … asshole … I…” “Relax,” Marco told him. “You look like you’re about to have a major coronary. If you’re going to work here at this nuthouse, you’re going to have to know how to roll with the punches.” “I’m not … ah … sure”—Paul glanced at the files—“what he wants and I … well … I came for an interview. I didn’t expect to start working right now. I mean … I’m grateful and…” “Don’t worry,” Marco told him, grinning. He came around to the front of the desk and leaned over him. He smelled like wild musk and vanilla and oh, it was hard to concentrate on anything. “Okay, these are old accounts, dead, put them over here in a pile. These are possible renewals, see with the blue stamps, and these here are potential clients. They need to be seduced.” Paul laughed. Marco laughed with him. Paul would never forget what he’d done for him that day, how he’d calmed him down, helped him to make sense of it all. He found himself daydreaming about him all afternoon as he listened to his deep sexy voice announcing in the sound booth down the hall. A few days later, Paul had gone out for a drink with some of the others from the office, really beginning to feel at home. Marco came into the bar a half hour later. The place, called Sam’s, was a regular hangout for the gang at WYRT after work. It was there at Sam’s that Paul really began to talk to Marco. They had a drink and talked for over two hours about work and life. Paul was more than just a little thrilled to discover Marco was gay too. And, like himself, very open about it. So when Marco asked him to come back to his place for another drink, Paul didn’t hesitate. Now, when he thought back on that night two years ago, it was probably the happiest he’d ever been. But his euphoria was about to end abruptly.

It had been a clear, starlit night. They had taken a leisurely walk back to Marco’s apartment building, talking and laughing. The walk had been filled with delicious sexual tension and anticipation. And then in the entrance to the building, Marco had unexpectedly bent his head down and kissed him. It wasn’t long or especially passionate, but that kiss had sent shivers of pleasure up his spine. In the elevator, Marco smiled at him. He was so damn beautiful. Paul thought maybe he’d died and gone to heaven. Then they stepped off the elevator. “Damn it,” Marco swore. Paul hadn’t realized what was happening until Marco ran down the hall towards his open apartment door, demanding angrily, “What in hell are you doing here in my apartment? You were supposed to have left your key with security.” Paul followed him hesitantly. All he wanted to know or didn’t want to know about Marco Delino as the potential love of his life was spelled out in the course of five minutes. The young man he met that night at Marco’s apartment turned out to be the one he’d just replaced at WYRT Radio. He was blond, blue-eyed, very handsome, and extremely distraught. His eyes were red from crying. After calling Marco every name in the book, he told him he hated him. Then carrying several photographs in his hand which he stated were “rightfully his” and “all he had left of his broken heart,” he pushed past Marco and paused for a second in front of Paul. “Ah, so I see,” he said, eyeing Paul with contempt. “You’re the little bastard who took my job. And as I can see, you’ve taken my place in bed too! Well, let me tell you, it’s heaven while it lasts, but eventually, he’ll rip out your heart and eat it for breakfast. But don’t worry, when it’s over, there are plenty others that you can go crying to. We’ve formed a club.” Paul stood there speechless, watching the young man race off down the hall. Marco gave him a tense smile. “Sorry about that.” “That was Shawn Freeman, wasn’t it? He’s the guy I replaced?” Paul croaked. “That’s him.” Marco frowned. “You were … he was living here?” “No. He wasn’t. He had a key.” Marco walked into the apartment. Paul stood hesitantly at the door. “You were the reason he quit his job?” Marco sighed. “Paul, forget it. It’s over with. It didn’t work out between us. He was just being overdramatic.” “It looks like he’s in love with you,” Paul murmured. “The guy was destroyed. He was crying.” “Like I said, he always had a flair for the dramatic.” Marco paused, then met his eyes. “Are we going to talk about Shawn all night or are we going to have that drink?” He wanted to stay. There was no question of that. But he couldn’t shake the image of Shawn standing there, his eyes red from crying, and suddenly he had an image of himself doing the same thing. He walked into Marco’s apartment that night, and had the drink because he really needed it, but he couldn’t get the image of Shawn sobbing out of his mind. When Marco moved closer to him and bent over to kiss him again, he jumped up off the sofa as if his butt were suddenly on fire. To this very day, there was a part of him that deeply regretted doing that, but he was sure he’d done the right thing. Marco Delino was the type of guy that should have had a neon sign tattooed on his forehead reading, “Warning: lethal to the

heart.” He was a great guy, but he would have made a lousy boyfriend. It was obvious that he liked to play the field too much and fidelity was a foreign word to him. Relationships were not a serious thing to Marco. So Paul had told him that night, “I’m sorry, Marco. Let’s just be friends, okay? I don’t think I’d survive you.” Amazingly enough, Marco had leaned back against the sofa and laughed softly. He didn’t appear to be upset. He stood up. “Okay,” he said, “if that’s what you want. Come on, I’ll walk you home.” After that night, their relationship evolved into a comfortable teasing banter that was fun, but designed to go nowhere. It was this story he told his friends, who usually replied that he’d been an idiot. “There was nothing to prevent you from making it with him,” Tony, his best friend, chastised him often. “I would have jumped him, who in hell cared about that Shawn guy. Maybe he was a loser.” Paul shook his head. “You don’t understand. My heart, Tony, is what prevented me from jumping into bed with him. One night in bed with Marco Delino, and you’d be hooked like an addict. And it would make for an uncomfortable situation at work when he dumped me. Look what happened with Shawn. He quit his job without notice. I like my job. I want to hold on to it. Marco is a heartbreaker. It’s best to steer clear sexually. You’d be on cloud nine with him for awhile and then he’d throw you over for someone else and you’d be in despair.” “Except that when you were on that cloud, you’d be having triple orgasms,” Tony would tease, which Paul would reply by drawling, “Well, you got me there.” “And how do you know,” Tony had mused, “that you wouldn’t have lasted? Maybe you would have been the love of his life.” That often gave Paul pause. What if he had taken the risk and it had worked out between them? Damn, sometimes when he looked at Marco, he wondered if it wouldn’t have been worth the risk. He decided it was better not to speculate on what could have been. So for the last two years, that was how it stood between them. They were friends who flirted harmlessly on occasion and that was cool. Meanwhile, he dated different guys and kept his eye peeled for someone who wanted something more than just a night of passion, a goodlooking man who liked to walk on the beach, take moonlight drives, and hold hands in bed. He was beginning to consider one of those dating services when boom, there he was, the man of his dreams. His name was Phillip Carter. He was thirty years old, had sandy blond hair, green eyes, and a nice smile. He came walking into WYRT Radio one day, asking to see Paul’s boss. “The boss is out but I’m Paul, his assistant. Is this concerning an account?” Paul asked, standing up. He smiled at him. “No. I’ve just been transferred here from your sister radio station in Chicago. Since your department has been doing so well with collecting new accounts, they thought it would be good to expand outside New York. I’m the new guy for external accounts. Didn’t someone tell you?” Paul laughed. “Probably, but it’s a busy time right now what with Christmas around the corner. I probably wrote it down somewhere. Sorry. Anyway, welcome. I’m pleased to meet you. I’m Paul Conners.”

They shook hands. Paul liked him immediately. When the boss came back, Phillip was introduced around and given a desk. Paul was glad to have him on board. Not only was he pleasant to look at, he would take a lot of the pressure off him in terms of paperwork. When Marco came in on his way to the sound booth, Paul waved at him. Marco walked over, brushing snowflakes off his dark head. He wore a long black leather coat over jeans and a white cable-knit sweater. Paul still held his breath sometimes when he saw him walk towards him. He was stunning. He was smiling too. “Hey there, brat! Whatcha want?” “Meet Phil. Phil, this is—” “Now here’s a guy that needs no introduction.” Phil stood, holding out his hand. “Hi, Marco.” Marco narrowed his eyes. “Do I know you?” He shook his hand briefly. “Well, not personally, I was working at WHRT in Chicago and now I’m the new external accounts man here. You’ve done phenomenal things for this station, Marco.” He smiled faintly. “Thanks … well … welcome to the zoo.” With that, he turned around and disappeared down the hall. “God, he’s really … ah…” Phil paused, waving his hand in front of his face. Paul grinned at him. “Tall?” he suggested. They both laughed, knowing that wasn’t what Phil meant at all. That night they went to dinner and Paul talked about Marco a bit. Paul warned him not to get involved with Marco and recounted his experience two years back. “No worries,” he said, meeting his eyes. “Marco Delino is drop-dead gorgeous but it’s not him I’m interested in.” Paul swallowed. When Phil reached over and squeezed his hand across the table, his heart did a little flip-flop. From there, the romance took off. They tried to keep a low profile in the office, but it was difficult. Marco began teasing him about Phil very discreetly, to which Paul would just grin and say, “I don’t kiss and tell.” “From my recollections,” Marco mused one evening, emerging from the sound booth, sipping the last of his cold coffee, “you don’t kiss at all.” Paul made a face, cleaning up the last minute paperwork as Marco went to get his coat. “That’s not true.” Paul held up his finger, “I do kiss, I just don’t kiss you.” “Ah, I see,” Marco said with a laugh. “Nasty, and heartless, may I add.” Then he sobered. “You still interested in moving out of that apartment of yours, Paul?” “Yeah, it’s way too small.” Paul met his eyes and reached in the drawer of his desk for his car keys. “Well, I need a roommate. My place is huge. The rent is reasonable but I’m finding it too big for just one person. If you’re interested, why not consider sharing it with me? I’m never home anyway.” Paul’s eyes widened. “Marco! Are you kidding? You’d be the last man on earth I’d ever share an apartment with.” Marco raised an eyebrow. “Why? Scared?” Paul flushed. “Why would I be?” “I have no idea. I wasn’t suggesting anything other than a purely financial arrangement. It’s just that you’re always complaining about your apartment and I…” Paul blushed. “I’m sorry. I overreacted. That was really a nice offer, but”—he

lowered his voice—“Phil and I are looking for a house.” He laughed a little. “I feel giddy. I gave my notice already on my apartment, and well … it’s all moving so fast.” “I see. I didn’t know you and Phil had gotten so serious.” “Don’t say anything around the office because…” Marco shook his head. “No worries. Well, I’ll put up an announcement on the bulletin board. Hope you and Phil find something you like.” He shrugged into his coat, raised a hand, and said, “See you later then.” “Night. Have a nice weekend,” Paul called after him. He couldn’t wait to meet Phil so that they could go house hunting. They found the perfect house. Paul was just waiting for Phil to call the broker to give them the go-ahead. But lately Phil had been making himself scarce. He was always out on “business” and he never gave Paul a straight answer about the house. The broker had called him three times expecting an answer. They were going to lose the house if they didn’t move on it. Finally, over dinner one night, Phil told him something that just about knocked him over. “About the house, Paul, I think we should each keep our own places for now because—” “What?” Paul gasped. “Phil, I gave my notice. I have to be out of my apartment, like yesterday.” “I didn’t tell you before, Paul, but I’m married. Now, before you freak out on me, we’re getting a divorce. I haven’t told her yet, but—” “Married?” Paul was stunned. Needless to say, the evening was a bust. Paul left Phil at the restaurant and walked the streets, crying. Somehow he ended up at Marco’s apartment building. It was past midnight. He rang the bell several times. Finally he heard a deep, sleepy voice say, “Yeah?” “It’s Paul.” He sniffed. “I know it’s late, but can I come up?” “Paul? Ah … sure. I’ll ring you in.” He knew his face was streaked with tears when Marco answered the door. He stood there, shivering. Marco’s eyes widened. He pulled Paul inside and shut the door. “What…?” Marco began, inspecting him. “I thought you and Phil would be…” Paul broke down and threw his arms around Marco, who patted his back indulgently. “Hey … hey…” Marco said, pulling his robe around him and leading Paul over to the sofa. He handed him some tissues. “What’s all this?” “Everything’s a mess, Marco,” Paul said, blowing his nose. “Phil is married, I have no home, and…” He started crying again. “Married?” Marco echoed. “That son of a bitch; I knew there was something.” “He’s getting a divorce, but we’ve lost the house and I don’t know what to do … where to go and…” “You’ll move in here, at least temporarily until you can find something, all right?” Marco said sternly, meeting his gaze. Paul nodded. What else could he do? And that’s how he came to be Marco Delino’s roommate.

Chapter Two It was uncomfortable at work. He was still in love with Phil. Phil was trying to get him alone to talk to him, but Paul did his best to avoid him. He’d been living with Marco now for over a month, and except for the occasional strange man he would sometimes bump into in the bathroom in the middle of the night, the arrangement was perfect. Marco often went somewhere on his weekends off so Paul had the entire place to himself. The apartment was huge and he had a great big bedroom. There was a big-screen television in the living room with a DVD player, VCR, and stereo speakers. It was great. And of course, his best friend Tony hadn’t stopped bothering him to come over so that he could meet Marco. One day, catching Paul in the station break room, Phil said that he had told his wife about them. “Really?” Paul looked up at him. He missed Phil, and he was beginning to mellow. “What did you say?” “I told her that I loved you. Paul, can’t we get together and have dinner? Talk?” He moved closer to him. Just then, Marco came into the room. He eyed Phil, who moved away from Paul. Marco poured some coffee. “Marco.” Phil smiled at him. “Phil.” Marco nodded coldly. “We’ll talk about it later,” Paul replied, and left the room. When Paul got home that night, Marco was in the kitchen preparing supper. “I have pasta, too much, want some?” He cast Paul a glance over his shoulder. “Yeah. That would be great,” Paul muttered, getting some water. He started to hum a little. Marco glanced at him. “I see you’ve made up with Phil.” “Made up? No. We’re talking, that’s all.” “Um. Has he left his wife yet?” “No. But he told her about us.” “I see.” “Okay, spill it.” Paul moved closer to him, putting his hands on his hips. “What do you want to say?” “Nothing.” “Yes, you do, you, the guru of wonderful relationships, the guy who wouldn’t know love if it bit you on that great ass of yours.” Marco stopped stirring the pasta and turned around. “My great ass, eh?” “You have selective hearing! That wasn’t the most salient point.” Paul laughed. “The point is that you know nothing about love.” “That’s quite an assumption.” Paul met his gaze and laughed, downing his water. “Come on, you’re the king of one-night stands. How many men have you slept with in the last month?” “Not as many as you imagine, and that’s not the point either.” He shook his dark head. He had tied his hair back and it looked damp, like he had been in the shower

recently. He was wearing sweatpants and a tattered old T-shirt. He still looked sensational. “Then, what is the point?” “The point is”—he sighed—“that Phil left you high and dry. You gave up your apartment for him. He says he loves you and wants to make a life with you, but he has already done that with someone else … a woman! He doesn’t care about your feelings, or the feelings of his wife.” “Don’t bring me down. I love him.” “I don’t understand why,” Marco said, stirring the pasta again. “I just do. If you’d ever been in love, you’d understand.” Paul put down his glass. “I’ve been in love,” he said suddenly. Paul froze. “What?” He turned around. “I was in love once.” “Don’t tell me with Shawn?” “No, not Shawn,” he scoffed. “It was a few years ago.” Paul laughed. “Don’t shit me.” “I’m not shitting you,” he protested. “I was twenty-three years old. I fell in love, and I got burned. Why do you think I have such a big apartment?” “I often wondered about that. But I can’t picture you in love, that’s all.” Marco strained the pasta and then took down two plates. “You seem to think I’m some sort of sex machine or something, with a heart made out of granite.” Paul laughed. “Well, not granite … steel, maybe.” “Thanks,” Marco replied, pouring some sauce over the pasta. Paul glanced at him. For a moment there, Marco sounded as if he was a little hurt by the comment. They sat down to eat. “The sauce is good,” Paul said, changing the subject. “It was my grandmother’s recipe. It takes forever to make. I keep some in the freezer. Help yourself to it.” “Thanks.” They talked about his grandmother for a few minutes, then fell silent. Paul put down his fork and looked at him sitting there across the table. He couldn’t help but be curious about Marco being in love. “So, do you feel like telling me about it, or is it something you’d rather not talk about?” He raised an eyebrow and poured himself some wine, then offered to pour some more in Paul’s glass. Paul shook his head. “Tell you about what?” “You in love.” “I’ll tell you if you want. I haven’t thought about that in a long time.” Paul leaned forward. “Was he handsome?” “Yeah, he was, in a bohemian kind of way. I met him when I got my first radio job. It was doing commercials at WJCM.” Paul laughed. “You worked at that country music station in New Jersey?” “Never mind.” He scowled. “It was a job. He was DJ there then.” “Is he still there?” “Nope. He’s gone. I think he works in Denver or something. Anyway, we met, we fell in love, or rather, I did. We moved in together, into this place. I was on top of the world until I found out he was sleeping with another guy at the station.” “Ouch.” Paul winced. “Sorry. How long did it last?” “About a year, I think. When I told him I knew he was sleeping around, he didn’t

seem concerned about it. He said I was overreacting.” Paul shook his head. “What a bastard. But I’m sure you weren’t being faithful either. Did he know about that?” Marco looked up from his plate. “I was being faithful,” he said sharply. “I was in love.” Paul didn’t know what to say. He just nodded. “Anyway”—Marco shrugged, downing the rest of his wine—“to make a long story short, he decided to accept a job somewhere else and he moved out. Told me it wasn’t because of me but it was because the other job paid more.” Marco laughed. “Luckily I got the job at WYRT soon after he left and I could afford the rent, so I stayed on.” “And after that, you decided to be a cad,” Paul teased. “Yes, Paul,” he replied with a frown, “a real heartless creep who only wants one thing.” He picked up his plate and stood up. “You ever stop to think that the guys I sleep with get exactly what they want from me as well, that the using is mutual?” He disappeared into the kitchen, leaving Paul pondering that. Of course he was right. He didn’t promise them anything, but they didn’t promise him anything back. “It’s not what I want,” Paul announced, bringing his plate into the kitchen. Marco took his plate, rinsed it, then stuck it in the dishwasher. “What do you want, Paul?” “Phil, I think,” Paul replied softly. “I think I should fight for him.” “I think Phil should fight for you.” Marco gave him a meaningful look. Paul laughed. “Why?” Marco moved closer to him and placed a hand on his shoulder. He lifted his chin up with one finger and said, “Because I think you’re worth fighting for.” With that he left him standing in the kitchen. That night about two in the morning, Paul made his way to the kitchen. He opened the fridge and stood in front of it, wearing only his underwear. He almost jumped out of his skin when he heard a deep voice say from behind him, “Watch out, you’re going to get a draft standing in front of the fridge like that.” Paul closed the door and turned around with a gasp. “You ass! Don’t sneak up on me like that. You scared me shitless.” Marco was standing there in front of him, also wearing next to nothing. He wore only a very skimpy pair of black underwear. Paul’s gaze went automatically to the bulge between his legs, then to the floor. “You’re horrible at that,” Marco groaned, moving in beside Paul to look inside the fridge. “At what?” Paul muttered, moving away from him. “Checking out a guy’s package. You got to be more subtle about it,” he replied, laughing. “I was … was … not … checking out your…” Paul stuttered, embarrassed. “Of course you were.” He closed the fridge door. “Here, let me show you how to do it,” he said with a comical grin. He placed his hands on Paul’s shoulders. “Okay, stand right there.” “What are you doing?” Paul protested, his face twisting into a grin despite himself. Marco moved his gaze over him a few times before settling on Paul’s face. “See!” He threw up his hands.

Paul shook his head, laughing. “You really are an ass. I can’t believe you just did that.” “You’re blushing,” he accused, pointing his finger. “I am not,” Paul replied. “Blushing!” Marco repeated loudly, pointing his finger again. “Okay, Delino, you’re going to pay for that one!” Paul squealed and chased him out of the kitchen. He reached out and knocked Marco over the sofa onto his back, landing hard on top, pushing his arms over his head. “Take it back, jerk!” Paul insisted, his face trying to be serious, but overflowing with laughter. “Never.” Marco struggled underneath him. “I was not blushing and I was not checking out your package.” “Were too,” he sang back loudly. They started to laugh. The struggling continued, and then suddenly they both realized that here they were, half naked, lying on top of each other and there was no way to disguise the fact that they were both hard as rock. Paul sobered first and released his hold on Marco. He found himself looking into his eyes and he wasn’t laughing anymore. Marco’s laughter also died in his throat. Paul went to climb off of him. “I’m sorry … I…” Marco held onto his arms. “Don’t,” he whispered. “Don’t run away.” “I’m not running anywhere, I’m…” He was lost suddenly, looking down into his eyes. Marco’s mostly naked body was so close to his. “Kiss me,” Marco invited. “What?” Paul laughed, trying to pull away, but Marco held his face. “God damn it, Paul, kiss me. Don’t be scared.” “I’m not scared.” Marco lifted up his head and kissed his mouth hotly. Paul gasped. “What are you … Marco, don’t … I…” Marco kissed him again, this time pulling him back down on top of him. Paul moaned against him, drowning in those kisses, his entire body on fire from being this close to him. What in hell were they doing? He began to struggle again. What if he let it happen? What if … no … it couldn’t happen. “Stop it, Marco!” Marco released him, and sat up. “I’m sorry,” he said, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “It was nothing, really. We were only fooling around.” Paul sat up, not looking at him. “It was just a harmless kiss.” “Is that what it was?” Paul’s eyes did go to Marco’s erection now. It was a quarter of a way out of his underwear and it was beautiful. He swallowed, stifled an inward groan, and tore his gaze away. “Of course,” he muttered. Realizing where Paul’s eyes were, Marco tucked himself inside again. “Well,” he said, clearing his throat, “guess we should go to bed. We have an early day tomorrow.” “Yeah. Good night, Marco.” Paul looked down at his own erection when he got back to his room and shook his head. What in hell had happened, or almost happened? To Marco, it would mean nothing if they’d slept together. To a guy like Marco, it would be like brushing his teeth, just

another notch on his bedpost. He couldn’t bear to be another notch on Marco’s bedpost. But he couldn’t help wondering what it would have been like to have made love with him. The thought of it kept him awake half the night.

Chapter Three The following night, Paul sipped his wine and listened to Marco’s deep, sexy voice on the radio as he waited for Tony to come over for dinner. Marco was working the allnight show. “This is Marco Delino, coming to you live from Rock and Talk radio, New York’s number one place for rock. Stay with me tonight, baby, and I will rock all night long. Here’s a little bit of foreplay”—he brought his voice down to a sexy whisper—“with Brie Anton and Passion, just to get ya wet.” The song came on, and Paul smiled. No wonder he was so popular, the way he talked. He had made a habit of listening to Marco on Saturday nights when Phil was tied up. There was a phone-in show, and wacky people often called in. Tony arrived a few minutes later. Paul poured him some wine and turned up the radio. Tony also loved the Rock and Talk Saturday night show. Some heavy metal tune had just finished playing and Marco’s voice boomed onto the airways. “Yaaaaaaaaaaa, ride me baby. That was just a little bit of Wild Moon for those of you who like your lovers hot!” Paul laughed as Tony raised his eyebrows up and down. “God, what a man. What a voice. You rode him yet?” Tony asked, getting a little tipsy. Paul chuckled and shook his head. “Tony! No, I haven’t ridden him yet … but last night, we both got hard together.” Paul started to laugh as Tony gasped. “What? Go slow, enunciate. Tell me every detail.” Paul grinned. “Nothing happened. We were fooling around in our underwear, but damn, he has a nice one, that I tell you. Um. Wish I’d seen all of it.” “You saw it?” “Just the tip of it. Now shut up, someone is phoning in, I want to hear.” “Ya, this is Marco Delino, taking your calls here on Saturday night live at Rock and Talk Radio. Okay, you’re on the line, go ahead.” “Mr. Delino. My name is Amie Prince and I was ordained by God to let the people know that you ,sir, are the devil here on earth”. Paul howled with laughter. “Oh God, can’t wait to hear what he says to her.” “Amie, you say?” “Do you accept the Lord thy God as your Lord and—” “Amie, I’m going to give you a phone number of a friend of mine. He knows how to help people like you. You may need an exorcist.” “I don’t need the exorcist, you do. You’re the devil.” “Then, honey, I say it takes one to know one. What are you doing listening to my show? You are being corrupted by my power as we speak. Shouldn’t you be in church or reading the Bible or something like that? Or is it that my voice gets you hot, and you just can’t help but tune in on that dial? The devil is winning, Amie. You’d better turn me off right now.” “You are disgusting. I can help you. I think you should come over to my house so that we can talk.” “I see. I don’t think I can make it, honey. Good night, Amie. Ah, we all have our

demons, our secret desires, deep in the night. Let’s listen to a little bit of Give It All to Me, Baby. And Amie, I wish you peace.” Paul and Tony were howling with laughter. Many of the calls were weird like that. Marco handled them all with his own special sense of humor. Paul and Tony fell asleep listening to the radio. When Paul woke up, Marco was in the kitchen making coffee. “Just get home?” Paul asked him, rubbing his eyes sleepily as he got up from the sofa. Tony had gone and crawled into Paul’s bed a few hours before. “Yep,” he said, still dressed in jeans and a T-shirt. “Looks like you had a hard night. You slept on that sofa?” “I passed out. It’s comfortable. Tony and I listened to your show most of the night. It was funny.” “I had some live ones last night. It must have been a full moon.” Paul laughed. Tony now came out of the bedroom, blinking. “Hi,” he said, looking at Marco. “Finally I get to meet you.” “Hi.” Marco smiled at him, then went back to making his coffee. Tony gave Paul a “he’s to die for” look. Paul held back laughter. Marco drank his coffee and sat around talking to Tony and Paul for about a half hour, then excused himself and went to bed. Tony laid his head down on the table after Marco disappeared into the bedroom, a dreamy look on his face. Paul grinned at him. “So I guess I don’t need to ask you what you thought of him.” “Paul”—Tony raised his head—“I think you’re a real butthead for not going for it when you had the chance. He’s gorgeous, that body, that smile … holy, and he’s really nice.” Paul gave Tony a half nod. In the past, a statement like that would have caused him to go into defensive mode, but lately he found himself more inclined to agree. Living here with Marco this last year had caused him to see many different sides of the man, things he’d never imagined. Yes, he had different lovers, but there were times when he didn’t go out, and many nights he slept alone. They had spent a lot of time together, evenings where they would eat popcorn and watch a movie or just talk about anything. And not once had Marco put the moves on him. And as much as Paul would have liked to have denied it, there was chemistry between them, some electrical current that definitely was sexually charged. It had always been there, but that night when Paul had jumped on top of him, it had become more than apparent to both of them. And because of what had happened that night, it seemed that lately Marco avoided being alone with him. It was just as well. Just because Marco had layers didn’t mean he was going to jump into bed with him. “What about Phil?” Tony was saying now. “Has he made any decisions? Are you together or what?” Paul pulled himself out of his quiet ponderings and looked at his friend. “We’re communicating again. He loves me. I just have to give him time to work things out with his wife, that’s all.” “How much time?” Tony quipped.

“Oh, Tony, let’s just drop the subject of Phillip. It’s all going to work out.” “Then he’s the love of your life?” Tony mocked. “Yes,” Paul replied. Tony’s eyes moved in the direction of Marco’s bedroom. “I think the love of your life is right in front of your eyes. You’re just too stubborn to admit it.” Paul laughed uncomfortably. “Right, Tony,” he mocked. “And even if that was true, it would be impossible. He’s not the kind of guy you settle down with, so drop it.” Tony left a half hour later. Paul cleaned up the dishes in the sink. He went to lie down for awhile, still tired from his late night. As he drifted in that suspended place between wakefulness and sleep, the phone rang. It was Phil. “So, dinner?” he asked. “Okay. Sounds great. What time?” “I’ll come there to pick you up at six.” “See you.” “Bye, sweetie,” he said and hung up. At five thirty, Paul emerged from his bedroom in black dress pants and a pale mauve shirt. His hair was still damp from the shower. Marco whistled at him from where he lay sprawled on the sofa watching television. Paul blushed. “Stop it,” he said. Marco sat up. “Where you going all dressed up?” “I have a date with Phillip.” Marco groaned, lying back down. “Come on, be nice. Phil and I are starting to get it together. He told his wife about us and it’s all going to work out.” “Paul”—Marco sighed—“isn’t he still living with his wife?” “Yes, but…” “Then he’s yanking your chain. When are you going to wake up?” “I don’t want to have this conversation with you, Marco,” Paul replied angrily. “Then don’t.” “You don’t understand.” Paul shook his head. “I love Phil and—” Marco got up off the sofa. “Why in hell would you love a guy who has lied to you, almost put you in the street, is married, and still lives with his wife? Maybe you think you love Phil; maybe Phil is a good man to love because you know it’s not going to work out.” “Are you saying that I have commitment problems?” Paul demanded. “This, coming from you, a guy who changes lovers as often as he changes underwear?” Marco smirked. “No, Paul, I definitely change my underwear more often.” Paul threw a cushion at him. “Don’t play with me tonight. I’m nervous.” “About what?” He threw up his hands. “I want this to work, but…” Paul trailed off. Paul and Marco just stood, looking at each other, when the doorbell rang. “Get the door, okay, and be nice,” Paul said softly, disappearing into his room. Marco sighed and mumbled that he was always nice as he walked over to open the door. Phillip smiled at him. “Hello, Marco.” Marco lifted a hand in response. “Hello, Phillip,” he said in reply, leaving the door

open for him to come in. Phillip pushed some of his blond hair away from his eyes and looked around. “Paul here?” “Yeah. He’s coming. Can I get you something?” Marco managed. “White wine, if you have it,” Phillip replied. “Take a seat. I may only have red. I’m not a white wine kind of guy.” “Oh. Well, skip it. Water will do. I only drink white.” “Oh, well,” Marco said, heading for the kitchen. “So, Phil”—Marco raised his voice while he poured water into a glass—“how’s the wife?” Just then Paul emerged from the bedroom, in a red shirt this time. He gave Marco the dirtiest look. Phillip shifted in his seat a little. “Whoops.” Marco cleared his throat, bringing Phillip the glass. “Did I speak out of turn?” Paul could have kicked him for that one. “We are working out a divorce arrangement, actually.” Phillip accepted the glass with a curt “Thanks.” “Oh, really?” Marco replied innocently. “You must have a lot of time to work out this divorce arrangement since you’re still living in the house with her, aren’t you? That’s a bit unusual, isn’t it? What do the lawyers think?” “Well, we haven’t actually brought the lawyers into it yet,” he said, visibly uncomfortable, then drained his glass. He stood up. “Well, we’ll be going. Don’t wait up,” he said with a laugh, winking at Marco. Marco’s eyes widened at the wink. “Oh, don’t worry, Phil, I won’t.” Paul issued Marco a look on the way out the door. If looks could kill, Marco would surely be lying there dead. Marco returned the look in a mocking fashion, which made Paul all the angrier. He slammed the door, hard. “That Marco, God damn him. I’m sorry, Phil.” Paul stormed about it all the way to the restaurant. Phil sighed. “Are we going to talk about Marco all night? Let’s eat and go back to your place. I have the whole night.” He reached over and squeezed Paul’s thigh. “But Marco’s there.” “So what? Doesn’t he bring his lovers back?” “Sometimes, but … well, we’ll talk about it later, after we eat,” Paul said. They had a great dinner. Phil was being really charming, insisting they go back to Paul’s apartment. Paul gave in finally. They arrived back at the apartment at around ten. Luckily, Marco was gone. They went into Paul’s room and made love. Despite thinking that he was reconnecting with Phil, Paul didn’t really enjoy it. He felt stressed the entire time, listening for Marco to come in the front door. At around six the next morning, Phil announced he was going to shower and go home. Paul realized that they hadn’t really talked about anything. He followed him to the bathroom. The shower was running when they got there. Paul stiffened. “Marco’s in there. Let’s wait, okay?” Damn, he was hoping Marco wouldn’t be home. “Let’s surprise him,” Phil joked. Paul’s eyes widened. “Let’s not. He won’t be happy about that.”

But Phil just barged into the bathroom and slid the shower door open. Paul tried to stop him, but couldn’t. “Hey, stud,” Phil said. Marco glared at him. “What in hell?” “Just handing you a towel,” Phil joked, grabbing a towel as Marco turned off the water. Paul sighed, rubbing his face, feeling embarrassed as he stood at the threshold. “Come on, Phil,” he pleaded. “Let’s make some coffee.” Phil ignored him. Marco yanked the towel out of Phil’s hand and wrapped it around his waist. “Get the fuck out of my bathroom!” “It’s a joke, Marco. I’m just playing. Surely the high and mighty Marco Delino of WYRT can take a joke,” Phil taunted. “You don’t know me well enough to be playing that kind of joke, Carter!” Marco said between clenched teeth as he stepped out of the shower. Paul knew Marco was roaring mad. There was a small hurricane brewing in his dark eyes. Paul took Phil’s arm and pulled. “Let’s go.” Phil shook off Paul’s hand. “No. Let’s not go.” He deliberately looked Marco up and down for a minute. “I haven’t figured out yet what everyone sees in you, Delino. You think your shit doesn’t stink, don’t you? You’re just too good to have me walk into your bathroom.” Marco glared at him. “I have no intention of having this discussion with you.” “You’ve made it clear you don’t like me and I think I know why,” Phillip said, pointing at him. “Really?” Marco raised an eyebrow. “Why is that?” “Because you wouldn’t mind it if it was Paul surprising you in the shower, would you? And you’re jealous, jealous of Paul’s and my relationship.” Paul gasped. “Phillip! What in hell are you—” Marco calmly took out his razor, preparing to shave. “Well, if I had a choice,” he drawled. “But that’s not the real reason I don’t like you.” He glanced at Phillip in the mirror. “The real reason I don’t like you is because you’re a closet queen who doesn’t have the guts to leave your wife. You want to fuck your wife, and play the straight game, and then fuck Paul whenever you want. You don’t care who you hurt in the process. You’re a liar, a cheat, and a coward.” He paused and smiled at him, “And since you asked, that’s the real reason I don’t like you.” Paul sucked in some breath. Holy shit. Marco had said all this to Phillip without blinking an eye. He was cool as a cucumber. Phillip, however, was not cool. “Why, you son of a—” he began, raising his fist to throw a punch. Marco turned around in a flash, caught Phil’s fist in his hand and, in one twist, had him on his knees. He looked down at him, fixing him with his dark eyes. “Now, I’d like to finish shaving, if you don’t mind. You are welcome to use the bathroom when I’m done. But for now, this little meeting is over.” Phillip nodded, wincing in pain. Marco released him. Paul stood aside as Phillip stormed out of the bathroom, then followed on his heels. Marco reached over and closed the bathroom door none too gently. Phillip was putting on his coat. “Cocky bastard,” he muttered. “One of these days…”

“You asked for that. Why did you have to do that?” “Maybe I’m jealous,” he hissed. “You live here with him. How do I know you’re not fucking him?” “Because I’m not fucking him!” Paul told him stiffly. “A guy who looks like that … with that body and you’re telling me … damn, did you see the size of his cock?” “Never mind that. He’s my friend. He gave me a place to live when you pulled your little surprise, remember? We’re not sleeping together.” Phillip nodded, taking a deep breath. “I’m sorry.” He leaned over and kissed him quickly on the cheek. “Paul, forgive me. I lost my head. I just love you so much. I’ll work things out. Look, I’ll call you Saturday night. We’ll go out, okay?” Paul nodded miserably, and watched him leave. He sat at the kitchen table, drinking a glass of juice, trying to figure out what exactly he was going to say to Marco. Marco emerged in shorts and a T-shirt, his hair loose and shiny. He said nothing and Paul didn’t know if he should say anything either. After a few minutes, he decided that he needed to apologize for Phil. “I want to apologize for Phil.” “Why should you?” “He’s sorry for doing that. He didn’t mean it. He just loves me so much. He’s jealous, that’s all.” Marco turned around and met his gaze. “Jealous of what? There’s nothing to be jealous of. He knows exactly how to play you, just like a violin. Is that how you think men are supposed to prove they’re in love with you, by trying to slug someone? Is that what impresses you?” “No. He just lost his temper. He thinks we’re lovers.” Marco laughed out loud. “Is that so hard to imagine, that we could be lovers?” Paul blinked. “No. In fact, it’s too damn easy to imagine,” Marco replied, and left the kitchen. That comment left him speechless.

Chapter Four Summer turned into winter. Christmas was fast approaching again. Phillip was still trying to work things out, and Paul was holding on, although sometimes he found himself wondering why. Marco had been casually dating some guy called Matt who was a drummer in an up-and-coming rock group. Paul got to meet him quite unexpectedly one night when he came home and surprised the two of them together. He’d been deep in thought when he came in, wondering if he’d get to spend any time with Phil at Christmas. The lights were dim and it was quiet. When he turned the corner to enter the hallway, he stopped dead in his tracks. On the right side of the hall was Marco, stark naked, his hands extended over his head. There was another equally naked guy on his knees in front of him, literally getting his face fucked with Marco’s cock. Paul couldn’t move. He could barely breathe. Marco’s body was at an angle, his broad shoulders leaning against the wall while his hips slowly and sensuously moved in and out of the guy’s mouth. The guy knelt on the floor, his jaw stretched to capacity as he accepted the thick, erect cock sliding in and out of it. Brown taut nipples which looked as if they had only recently had a good laving and the round, delightful swell of Marco’s ass held him spellbound. The guy on his knees was moaning, but Paul wouldn’t have even been able to name the color of his hair. His gaze was filled with the sight of Marco’s gorgeous hard body as he performed that sensuous dance. Marco’s hands slowly lowered to hold the guy’s head steady so that he could move faster and harder and thrust deeper into his ready mouth. Paul licked his lips. He felt his balls tighten, his cock twitch. He reached out a hand for support, stifling a moan. Marco slammed up against the wall suddenly, his eyes closing, as he uttered a deep groan of satisfaction. His hips jerked back and forth a few times. The guy on the floor wrapped his hand around the base of Marco’s cock, swallowing and then pulling back for a moment before pressing his lips against Marco’s groin. “You’re so beautiful,” he mumbled against Marco’s cock. “Fuck me.” Paul snapped back to reality. He propelled himself back around the corner, then opened and closed the door again. He made sure he made a lot of noise. He heard some scrambling, then Marco appeared with an old tattered robe haphazardly wrapped around him. “Paul,” he said, tying the sash, “I didn’t expect you back.” He pushed back some of his dark hair. “No, I guess not.” Paul cleared his throat, trying not to stare at him. He heard the anger in his own voice. It was sudden and totally unexpected. Marco gave him a curious look. “You seem upset about something.” “Not at all.” Paul waved that away. The other man appeared now, looking equally unkempt. Everyone had told him that Marco’s new squeeze was so cute. Hell, he wasn’t that cute. “This must be Matt,” Paul said, about to add, “He looks happier than a pig in shit, and I know why,” but he managed to hold his tongue. He took some satisfaction in knowing he had interrupted them and that Matt wasn’t going to get what he really wanted, at least not right now. The rock musician pumped his hand. “Paul, right?”

“Yeah,” Paul said with a nod. He walked over to get something to drink from the fridge. “Hope I wasn’t interrupting anything.” “It’s okay,” Marco said. “Phillip and I are going to spend the entire Thanksgiving weekend together,” Paul announced, looking at Marco as he went to sit on the sofa. Matt had retreated into the other room, mumbling something about using the bathroom. “Good for you. He can come here if you like. I’m taking off for the holiday. So, what’s he going to do with his wife, stuff her in his trunk?” “You know,” Paul snapped, “you should be less fucking judgmental. He’s trying. It’s not easy for him.” Marco stared at him. “What’s with you anyway? You seemed pissed the moment you walked in here tonight.” “Nothing. Nothing at all. It’s just that you never let up. Why don’t you give Phil a break?” “Why should I?” Marco demanded, standing up. “I call ’em as I see ’em. You’re just too blind to realize it. You can’t see what’s right in front of your face.” “If I get burned, what’s it to you?” “Well, I thought we were friends. Friends are supposed to care about each other, right?” “We are friends.” “So I shouldn’t be concerned when I see you with a jerk like Phil?” “No, I can handle it.” He stopped talking when Matt came out of the bathroom. “I got to go, Marco,” Matt said. Marco walked him to the door. They stood talking quietly for a few minutes, then Matt left. “So, how long is this one going to last?” Paul threw at him when he closed the door. Marco glanced at him. “I like Matt.” “Oh, it’s serious then?” “Maybe.” He paused for a moment, then came over and stood in front of him. Paul felt his pulse race. His eyes moved down the smooth column of Marco’s throat to where the robe lay open on his chest, then looked away. “Listen, I’m sorry about nagging you about Phil. I just don’t want to see you hurt. I know you don’t see it, but Phil is bad for you. He’s not going to leave his wife.” “There you go again, assuming that…” Paul shook his head. He started to walk away, but Marco caught his arm. He pulled him up against his chest for a moment. “Wait,” he said, looking into his eyes. Paul felt like a deer caught in the headlights. He didn’t know which one of them moved closer first, but suddenly their lips met, hard, crushing, mouths opening, tongues colliding. Paul wanted to rip open that robe, run his hands over Marco’s chest, taste his skin, take his cock into his mouth. Instead, he clenched his fists at his side. Marco wasn’t dissuaded. His mouth moved from Paul’s mouth to his throat. “Paul,” he moaned, “make love to me.” Paul closed his eyes. He was in a dream, being held so close in Marco’s arms with his hands moving down to his back and gently squeezing his ass cheeks. He let his head go back, allowing Marco’s lips to trail across his chest for a few minutes. He swallowed as an image pushed into his mind. He saw that young guy crying, saw Matt swallowing

Marco’s cock, envisaged himself desperately in love and alone, and somehow, he found the strength to wrench himself away from those strong arms. He was breathless, his chest heaving with suppressed desire. He couldn’t leave himself open for this. He was only asking for heartbreak. Marco stood there in front of him, his expression unreadable. He shook his head. “Why?” “Why?” Paul echoed. “Because nothing any man could ever do could hurt me as much as you could,” he whispered, feeling the tears threatening. He blinked them away. Marco’s eyes narrowed in confusion. “I don’t understand.” Paul put some distance between them. “Never mind. You don’t need to. I’m sorry. Forget I said that. I don’t know what I’m saying anymore. I’m tired. I’m going to bed now.” He headed for his bedroom, stunned as the tears spilled out of his eyes. He barricaded himself behind his bedroom door, locked it, leaned on it, and listened for any sound. The taste of Marco’s kiss still lay on his bruised mouth. He waited, holding his breath. Marco didn’t come after him. He sank down on the side of the bed with a sigh, a mixture of relief and disappointment.

Chapter Five A little while before the Thanksgiving break, Paul came home to find Marco packing. He was surprised that Matt was there with him. He could hear them in the bedroom, talking and laughing. Paul sat on the sofa feeling super depressed suddenly, which made no sense. He didn’t know what in hell was going on with him lately. When Marco and Matt emerged from the room, it was obvious they’d just finished making love. They were fully dressed, but clearly straight from the shower. Matt had a giant hickey on his neck that he displayed quite proudly. Paul said hello, which earned him a polite hello in return from both men. “Marco,” Paul said, watching him take leftovers out of the fridge. “Um?” Marco asked, putting some ham in his mouth. “When are you leaving?” Marco had been distant again since that kiss the other night. Paul was hoping they could get past this feeling of uneasiness. “Tonight,” he said. Paul looked at Matt, who’d joined Marco at the counter. Marco fed him a piece of ham. They laughed. Paul looked away, their intimacy grating on him suddenly. “So, are you going to say where you’re going, or is it a secret?” “To Rio, for a whole month, lie in the sun, and…” Marco began. “Make love and make love some more,” Matt added, grabbing Marco and kissing him hotly. Paul stiffened. “A month?” “Is there a problem?” Marco looked at him. Paul nodded soberly. He’d thought Marco was going alone. Matt left the room for a second to get his stuff. Marco started making a sandwich. Paul stood up and walked over to him. “This seems pretty serious, between you and Matt. So, you’re finally settling down?” Paul asked, his voice trembling. Marco shrugged. “It is what it is.” “Which means?” Paul probed. “What do you care?” Marco asked, meeting his eyes. “You have Phil to worry about.” “I … well … I care about you, like you said the other night, we’re friends. I don’t want to see you get hurt, that’s all. I’d like to see you happy.” “Um. Well, thanks for your concern. Don’t worry about me,” he replied. “I can take care of myself. You have much bigger problems with what’s his name.” Matt finally left, saying something about waiting downstairs. Paul tried to think of something to say. “You know, Phil has saved the holiday to be with me.” “You told me that already, twice,” Marco reminded him. “What in hell do you want me to say? Lucky you,” he sang, checking his suitcase. What did he expect Marco to say? Did he want him to be jealous? Paul watched him closely as he took his suitcase out into the hallway. “Phil’s trying.” Paul met Marco’s gaze. “Paul, don’t tell me, tell yourself. Phil is constantly trying; the question is, trying to

do what? Believe what you want to believe.” Marco sighed. “You’re determined to think Phil will do the right thing and maybe he will. You’ve always believed exactly what you wanted about Phil”—he paused and looked at him—“and about me.” Paul balked. “What do you mean, about you?” “You thought you knew what kind of man I was right from the very beginning. You wanted to believe I was some kind of heartbreaking Romeo, so you never even gave me a chance.” He reached in the closet for his coat. “I didn’t know that you … ah, wanted a chance,” Paul managed, feeling quite desperate all of a sudden. Marco shrugged his broad shoulders, turning around. “It doesn’t matter if I did or not. And do you know what’s so fucking ironic? You really did end up with the heartbreaker after all. I never understood it. What in hell was it about me that scared you so much, Paul?” Paul opened his mouth, then closed it. How could he tell him that just looking at him made him tremble all over? How could he explain that? How could he explain to Marco that the man could bring him to his knees with just a look, that loving him could rip out his heart if Marco ever rejected him? How could he tell him that he loved him way too much? “Well,” Marco said suddenly, “I got to go. See you around. Take care … and”—he turned around at the door—“good luck with Phillip. I mean that sincerely. If he’s really what you want, I hope it works out for you.” “You sound as if … like you’re not coming back?” Paul said. He laughed faintly, but it rang hollow. Marco didn’t answer. He just walked out and shut the door behind him. All that night, Paul lay awake thinking about what Marco said. It was true, all of it. That night two years ago, he’d seen that guy run out of this place crying, and he had never even bothered to ask Marco to explain his side of it. He’d just assumed Marco had used that guy, and had tossed him aside. And the guy he thought was safe, Phil, his boy next door, was the one who had betrayed him. Paul tried to put it all out of his mind. He told himself he and Phil still had a chance. He went about preparing the turkey dinner. Then he waited. When Phillip didn’t show by midnight, he knew he wasn’t going to. But this time, he felt relief. It was over, but then so was his excuse. He had never been in love with Phil. He’d used him to keep himself from facing the truth. He was in love with Marco, and he’d been in love with him from the moment he’d laid eyes on him. What he’d been looking for was exactly where his best friend Tony said it was, right in front of his eyes. That Monday he went back to the office and when Phillip came in, prepared to give him his excuses, Paul looked at him and shook his head. “Marco was so right about you. You’re a loser. And finally I’ve woken up. Phillip, I don’t love you anymore. In fact, I don’t think I ever did. I don’t want you. Although I wasn’t making love with Marco, I sure as hell should have been. All those nights I wasted with him just down the hall. I’m in love with Marco, and when he comes home, I’m going to tell him so.” Phillip laughed bitterly. “Well, good luck, because the way I hear it, buddy, you blew it. He’s not coming back. He gave his notice to the station the day before he left. The boss practically begged him on his knees to stay. Guess they’ll have to find a new golden boy, and you’ll have to get yourself another fantasy.”

Paul gasped. “He never said anything.” “No,” Phillip threw back at him, “he wouldn’t. He just figured you were too damn stupid to figure it out, too focused on me. Guess he was right.” Paul felt sick to his stomach. “What are you … what are you talking about?” “He’s in love with you,” he sneered. “Everyone could see it. All that concern about our relationship, the way he took you in. Christ, the guy almost broke my arm in his freaking bathroom. Well, have fun being alone,” he said, and walked off. Paul rushed into the boss’s office without knocking. “I have to have a week of vacation, now,” he begged. The answer was no. Paul looked his boss in the eyes. “Listen to me; I can get Marco to come back to the station; at least, I think I can. You do want him back, don’t you?” “I’m listening.” He stood. “Let me go to Rio, talk to him. Jack, I’m going to tell you the truth, and I don’t give a shit if you approve or not. I’m in love with him, and I messed up big-time. I think he’s leaving because of me. I have to go after him, with or without your permission. If you won’t give me this week off, I’m going to quit!” Jack was silent for a long time, then he frowned. “All right, go on, and personally I don’t give a shit how you get him back here, just do it.” He handed Paul a paper with the name of a hotel on it and Marco’s room number. “This is where he’s staying. I was supposed to forward his pay.” Paul grabbed the paper and ran out the door. He called Tony as soon as he had made the reservations. “Tony, I’m going after him,” he said into the phone. “Paul, let him go. Phil is a no-good—” “Not Phil. I’m going after Marco. I’m in love with him. I’m going to tell him. I’m going to beg him to come home.” Tears stung his eyes. “He left the station. I think it’s because of me. He never really said, but I’m sure that’s what it is. I’ve been so stupid.” “Finally!” Tony exclaimed. “Go get him, Paul. You’re meant for each other.” “He’s with someone,” Paul said hesitantly. “He left with another guy.” “Paul, give it your best shot. Don’t come home without him.” “I won’t,” he said with determination, and hung up. He had a flight booked to Rio that night. He’d been lucky to get the last room available at the same hotel where Marco was staying. He had one shot. He had to make this work. On the plane he thought about his last words to Phillip. Phillip hadn’t even seemed upset when he’d told him it was over. Boy, had he ever played Paul for an idiot. Marco had been right all along. Please, he prayed, please God, let him believe me when I tell him how I feel, let him still care. When he got to the hotel room, he paced the floor nervously. Coincidentally, he was down the hall from Marco and Matt’s room. Should he call him? Should he just bump into him? No matter how he did it, Marco was going to be surprised to see him there. He decided to say that Jack had sent him to convince him to stay at the station. That would work for starters. Yes. He called the hotel switchboard and was connected to Marco’s room. Marco answered right away. “Hello?” “Marco,” Paul said into the receiver, clutching the phone. “Paul?” he replied, his voice surprised. “What’s wrong? Is everything all right? Did

something break at the apartment?” “No. I’m not at the apartment. I’m … ah … down the hall.” He waited for a reaction. “What room?” “Twenty-two.” “I’ll be right there,” he said, and hung up. Seconds later, there was a knock on the door. Paul opened it. Marco eyed him suspiciously. “What are you doing here?” “Jack sent me to convince you to come back.” “I’m not going back.” “Marco, why didn’t you tell me you were leaving the station? What were you going to do about the apartment?” “I bought the apartment before I left, Paul. You can live there rent free as long as you like. I would have told you. I left a letter for you on your desk. I guess you didn’t see it.” “What did you say in the letter?” Marco shrugged. “I told you about the apartment. I said that I needed a change.” He walked over to the window. He turned around a few seconds later, smiled at him. “Why would Jack send you to talk me into coming back? He knew I’d made up my mind.” Paul swallowed. “He knows we’re friends, and he thinks you care about me.” “I do care about you,” he said. There was a silence. Paul took a deep breath. “This Matt guy, do you love him?” “Not yet.” Paul laced his fingers together. “Jack didn’t send me out here.” Marco lifted an eyebrow. Paul ran his gaze over him, the white shorts, light blue tank top, hair tied back, those eyes, looking at him now, so beautiful, questioning. “No. I came because I…” Paul’s voice faltered. “You came because you what?” Marco took a step toward him. “You what, Paul?” he persisted, reaching over and taking one of his hands. Tears lit Paul’s eyes. “I love you. I loved you the moment I saw you. It took me by surprise, scared the shit out of me. You were larger than life … you are larger than life and I … please tell me it’s not too late. Tell me that…” But before he could go on, Marco pulled him into his arms and kissed him deeply, ran his hands over his back, then let him go. “That was some answer,” Paul replied, spellbound. “I can do better, if you let me.” “I’m sure you can.” Paul laughed a little. “But what about Matt?” His heart was racing, his face not able to contain his smile. “Matt who?” he asked softly. “Marco, you just can’t leave Matt hanging, like with Shawn and…” “Do you want to know what happened with Shawn and I? Do you care to hear my side now?” Paul nodded. “Shawn and I slept together once. It was after an office party. We both had a little bit too much to drink. I tried to let him down easy. He became clingy. Before the party, I had given him the key to my apartment because he’d agreed to check on things when I took my vacation that summer. I regretted it. Things got out of hand. I know, I might not have

handled it the way I should have. I tried to be nice, but…” He threw up his hands. “I had nothing to do with him losing his job. He did that all on his own. I actually tried to talk Jack into giving him a break. Do you believe me?” Paul nodded. “Yes. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have jumped to conclusions. And Matt? You can’t just leave him down the hall.” “Matt isn’t down the hall. I’m alone.” “Then where is he?” “On tour. He was only traveling halfway with me.” Paul gasped. “You made me believe that you were going to Rio with him! He played along?” “Yes.” He smiled. “Matt is actually the kind of guy you want to avoid getting involved with. It was only sex with us, nothing more. When he realized how desperately I loved you, he suggested that we pretend we were going together.” Marco pulled Paul back into his arms. “I was hoping for a reaction. It seems to have worked?” Paul grinned. “Yeah, it worked,” he said grudgingly. “I can hardly believe it.” “Will you forgive me?” Marco looked down into his eyes, kissed his mouth tenderly. “What can I do to make it up to you?” “Oh baby,” Paul cooed, undoing the tie from Marco’s hair, “do I have a list for you.” “A list, eh?” he said, a twinkle in those dark eyes. “Oh yeah.” Paul nodded. “First, take off those clothes, all of them. No more taunting me with your half naked body like you did back home.” “Taunting you?” “Off, now,” Paul demanded, grabbing his shirt. “And you’re going to talk dirty to me with that sexy radio voice of yours and…” Marco brushed his hands away and undid his shirt. He tossed it aside. “You know,” he mused, pulling Paul’s T-shirt over his head, “I just might have some demands of my own. After all, you have made me wait for over two years.” He reached for Paul’s pants. “As if you’ve been depriving yourself,” he accused with a grin. “I have.” Marco smiled. “All those others were just poor substitutes for the real thing.” He moved his lips down Paul’s chest and started stroking his erection. “I don’t have any wives in the closet, sweetie. All I have is me. And I’m all yours. Think you can handle it?” He sank to his knees and took Paul’s cock into his mouth. Marco looked up at him, and met his eyes; his lips tightened around Paul’s shaft. Paul moaned. “I’m willing to give it the old … ah … college … oh my God … college ahhhh.” He forgot what he was saying suddenly; the expert maneuvering of Marco’s tongue was turning any words he might utter into gibberish. He let his head go back, every nerve in his body tense. Oh, he was so close. He wanted to hold on. He wanted it to last forever. Marco took him deeper, swallowing. He felt the head of his cock touch the wall of Marco’s throat. Jesus God. He let out a shout and came, his cock spurting out reams of cum as Marco sat back on the floor and smiled at him. Paul reached out to steady himself, his body shuddering with the remainder of his release. He looked down at Marco. He was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. But damn it, he still had those shorts on. Paul licked his lips, his knees weak. “Take off your…” Marco got to his feet. Seductively, he stripped down naked and then motioned to

Paul with his finger. Paul followed him to the bed. He would have followed him anywhere. Marco lay on the bed and gave him that beguiling smile. “Come and get it, baby. Come and make love to me. And make me feel it ’cause I’ve been waiting for you oh so long.” Paul trembled as he moved down into his arms and kissed his mouth. It was like ambrosia and chocolate, the most numbing sense of euphoria he’d ever experienced. Marco’s hands moved over his body, and almost reverently, Paul began to kiss every succulent inch of him. “Here is Marco Delino,” he said in his sexiest radio voice, “coming to you live, in fact, very live”—he glanced down at his own erection comically—“from Rio, where the most wonderful guy I’ve ever known is making passionate love to me, and I surrender. I surrender myself to him before all others. I give to him all my love, my heart, my body, and my soul. I love you, Paul Conners. Will you take me and make me yours for the rest of my life?” Paul raised his head and looked at him, tears burning his eyes. “Baby,” he whispered, “oh, baby. I love you Marco.” He grabbed his face and kissed him hungrily. “I take you forever, my beautiful lover. You’re mine, for the rest of my life. Make me yours now.” Paul reached over to the nightstand and grabbed a condom. He rolled it onto Marco’s cock, then straddled it. He closed his eyes as he felt Marco’s cock slide up inside of him. He looked down to see the bliss on Marco’s handsome face. He took him deeper. Marco gasped, then reached up to touch Paul’s face. Paul began to ride his cock, to make it his. He’d waited so long for something he didn’t even think was possible. He took it hard and fast, finally slowing to catch his breath. Marco bucked underneath him. Paul laughed, his hands settling on his hard, sculptured abs. “Slow down there, cowboy,” he cooed teasingly as he reared up off of his cock and then took him back inside, inch by succulent inch. He wiggled down onto his hips, taking as much of him as he possibly could. “You’re a big boy,” he whispered with a slow smile. Marco reached up for his face and dragged his mouth to his. Paul lost himself in that kiss. He couldn’t help thinking how many men would have killed to be in his, ah … position right now. He moved a little, letting himself feel Marco’s cock burrowed deep inside of him. “Okay,” Marco growled, “that’s it. You’re going to get it now.” Marco lifted him off of him and flipped him around, pulling him up on all fours. Paul laughed, shouting in protest. “Not fair!” Marco held him around the waist with strong arms, pulling him up against his solid chest while Paul tried to feign protest. They playfully wrestled a bit. “I think this might be rape,” Paul accused, letting his head loll back on Marco’s shoulder as he penetrated him with his hard cock. “Oh yeah?” He leaned down and kissed his mouth as he began to pump into him. “Doesn’t feel like rape to me. Feels more like…” “More like what?” Paul moaned as he fell forward on his hands and grunted, really feeling Marco’s need now, a need that was building steadily with his own. “Baby,” he called out. “Yes.” As Marco pumped his desire into him, Paul choked back tears. He’d never felt such pleasure, never felt such love, and that was what poured out of Marco as he came inside

Paul, his hand wrapped around the other man’s cock. They fell together on the bed and Marco pulled him close. He kissed the top of his head and closed his eyes. “That was worth waiting for.” Paul smiled. “And how long before we’ll have to wait for it again?” Marco opened one eye. “That was coy,” he said with a smile. “So?” Paul probed. “Oh, about twenty minutes?” Paul howled with laughter and kissed his jaw. He took Marco’s hand in his and brought it to his lips. “I’ll be counting every second, my love. I never knew you were that good in bed.” “Um, and to think of all the time you wasted, my love, when there I was all along, on the radio.” “Closer than that.” Paul crawled on top of him. “You were right before my eyes.” The End

My Name is Dane Chapter One When Frankie got this way, there was nothing anyone could do about it except let him rant. Mark held the receiver a few inches away from his ear, trying unsuccessfully to take an enraged cat out of a cage with the other hand. He gave up and concentrated on trying to calm his brother down. “Calm down?” he demanded, forcing Mark to increase the distance between the phone and his ear again. “How can I calm down? This is a crisis, Marco. Come home. We need you, and Papa has been having pains in his heart again. You’re the doctor in the family, maybe you could prescribe something, eh?” “Frankie, I’m not a doctor. How many times do I have to tell you? I’m a vet. I prescribe medicine for animals, not people. And stop calling me Marco. We’re not even Italian.” “We are on our great-grandmother’s side.” “We’re not Italian, Frankie.” “You got to come home, Marco. You know how I get. I get crazy when stuff like this happens. I gotta see this guy. I gotta make him—” “No, no,” Mark said. “Don’t do anything rash. Are you sure Julie is pregnant?” “Would I be on the phone calling you if she wasn’t? She’s crying her eyes out, poor kid.” “Let me talk to Dad.” “Dad doesn’t need to be involved in all this. You know what the judge said; he’s got to stay clean. You and me, we can handle this. We gotta talk some sense into this guy. He either steps up to the plate, or I kill him. I—” “Frankie. You’re not going to kill anyone. You’ve put all that behind you, remember?” He lowered his voice. “The family is legit now, in the construction business. And you can’t afford to get into trouble again either.” “Legit, legit. Yeah, yeah, I know. And this is all your fault, Mr. High and God Almighty.” “My fault?” “You’re the one who encouraged Julie to take that job at the restaurant.” “Oh, I knew you’d find some way to blame me for this. I didn’t know she was going to sleep with the manager.” “You said it would occupy her. It occupied her all right, and now I’m going to occupy him with my fist in his—” “Frankie, no.” Frankie was sputtering again. Mark could just picture him, his eyes wide and bulging, his hands turned into fists. “Look, I have to go. I’ll call you later, and don’t do anything until we discuss this.” Mark hung up before Frankie could say another word. He reeled back in his chair and rubbed his eyes. His sister was pregnant. Damn it. And the guy was denying all responsibility for it. He’d even fired her. Frankie wasn’t going to let this go. When Mark was old enough to realize how crazy his family really was, he was

convinced these strange people had kidnapped him from his real parents. He had absolutely nothing in common with them. He didn’t look like them, he didn’t talk like them, and he sure as hell didn’t think like them. He used to lie awake at night and wonder, who were these people? When he finally admitted to himself that his father and brother were small-time gangsters connected to the local mafia, he was determined to do everything he could to distance himself from them. He tried to convince his parents to let him go to university in another country. His mother had cried for three weeks and called him an ungrateful son, his father kept looking at him and shaking his head, and his grandmother came over and slapped him. He went to university at home. He did, however, manage to open his veterinary practice on the other side of town. Most of the time he could just pretend to be someone other than Mark Merchant; he worked and played in Manhattan, and made an appearance at family dinners every third Sunday, where his mother would stuff him with food, and his father and older brother would talk about the “good old days,” days they seemed to forget landed his father behind bars for two years. His sister Julie, still living at home, always managed to drag herself to the table at the last minute, looking bored. “Why don’t you move out, get your own place?’ Mark had asked her a few weeks ago. “You’re eighteen now and still living at home.” “Can’t afford it,” she shot back. “I’m not a big-time doctor like you are.” “I’m not a doctor. I’m a vet. Go to college, do something with your life.” “Not school,” she moaned. Julie had always hated school. “Besides,” she said, “I like that new job waitressing.” Until now, Mark never realized the reason she liked it so much. Shit. She was humping the manager. Mark was worried. Frankie and his father needed to stay out of trouble, and Frankie was a hothead. If he thought any guy was disrespecting Julie, there would be hell to pay. Mark knew he didn’t have a choice. He had to go home and see if he could find a solution before things got out of control. He took care of his three o’clock appointment, a kitten who needed its boosters, then picked up the phone. His mother answered. “Bambino!” “Hello, Mom. Stop calling me a bambino. We’re not Italian.” “On your grandmother’s side,” she pointed out. He sighed. “Right.” “I’m missing my baby. I’m going to make you’re a special dish this Sunday. Bring a nice girl.” “Mom, I’m gay.” He’d told her that a hundred times already too. “It will pass,” she said. “Okay.” There was no point in arguing with her. “Don’t cook too much. I’m on a diet.” “Diet? You don’t need any diet. Oh, and your father is dying.” “Again?” “Don’t be smart. He’s got pains. I’m sure he’s dying.” “He’s had the same pains for five years, Mom. It’s indigestion.” “You need to check his heart.”

“Mom I’m a vet. He needs a medical doctor.” “And the neighbor, Mrs. Jefferson, well, she’s got problems, in intimate parts. She told me the other day, and her husband, he can’t … you know, anymore.” “Oh God.” He put his face in his hands. “Mom, where’s Frankie?” “He’s not come home from work yet. He works so hard on the construction site. He needs a girlfriend. Bring two girls with you. I’ll buy some wine. Your father got a new contract yesterday, a big one. We’re getting a pool.” “Good. And Mom, Frankie is thirty-five years old. I’m sure he doesn’t want me arranging his dates. Is Julie there?” “No. She’s looking for a job. She doesn’t have her job anymore. I don’t know what happened. She won’t tell me. You talk to her.” “I will. And don’t worry, she … uh … she’ll find something else. I’m taking a few days off. Tell Frankie I’m coming home tonight. Tell him not to do anything until I get there.” “What do you mean, not do anything until you get here? What’s he going to do? He’s not in trouble again, is he?” “No. Just tell him what I said, okay?” “Okay. I’m going to cook. Will you be here for supper?” “No. Don’t wait supper for me. Bye, Mom,” he said and hung up. **** “I don’t think this is a very good idea,” Mark told Frankie as they careened out of the driveway in his brother’s car. “Look, I didn’t ask you to come with me, so either shut up or get out of the car.” “I’m not going anywhere until you tell me what you plan on doing.” “I’m going to find that bastard one way or another and teach him a lesson.” “If you get into trouble again, Frankie, they’ll lock you up this time. Look out,” Mark cried out suddenly. “What?” Frankie growled, screeching to a stop at the light. “I thought you were going to run right into the back of that truck.” “Do you think I’d risk putting one mark on this baby? And why are you in my car again?” “To keep you from doing something stupid.” “Get out.” “No. She’s my sister too, you know. Why in hell did she have to sleep with her boss anyway?” “I’m sure he seduced her. She’s just a baby.” “She’s a grown woman.” “She’s our sister. He’s a creep. He denied that he had anything to do with it, and he fired her.” “That was low,” Mark admitted. “Anyway, I don’t want you to feel guilty. It’s not your fault, even if you did tell her to work there.” “I don’t feel guilty at all.” “Poor kid, she was crying the other day. Did you talk to her?” “Briefly, but I didn’t get into it. She did tell me she was pregnant.”

“She says she loves this creep. I should have never let her take that summer job waiting on tables in that stupid restaurant. You said it was the best thing for her in the world.” “When are you going to get it through that thick skull of yours that Julie is a grown woman? She doesn’t want to go to college. She has to do something. She can’t live at home forever. Mom will smother her.” “She’s my little sister.” Mark sighed. “What are you planning to do to this guy once you find him?” “Before or after I kick his ass?” “That’s what I was afraid of.” “He’s going to do the right thing by Julie.” “That sounds very 1950s.” “You’re too young to know about these things.” “I’m not letting you go off half cocked. You’ll get yourself into deep shit. Have you met this guy before?” “His name is Christopher Hawkins. He’s tall, with dark hair to his shoulders, and he’s the manager of the place. How hard can it be? And don’t worry, I have a plan.” “You have a plan? Okay, I’m worried now.” “I know what I’m doing. If you’re not going to be of any help, go home.” “I’m not going anywhere. You’re stuck with me, so drive.”

Chapter Two Dane wiped the sweat off his forehead with the back of his hand. He had taken off his T-shirt and wrapped it around his waist, but that hadn’t helped him to cool off any. They’d been unloading these damn cases for over an hour, and he still hadn’t found anything he could use. The ex-con driving the truck was called Charlie, and he smelled like he’d never seen a bar of soap, and today, with this heat, the stench was almost unbearable. “Let’s take a break,” Dane suggested, “I need to get something to drink.” “Wimp,” Charlie yelled at him, spitting on the pavement. “I’ll take a smoke break then, but hurry it up.” He whipped out a cigarette and lit it, coughing and sputtering while he sucked on it. Dane pulled his long black hair back and tied it with an elastic band. He waved his hand in front of his nose to push the stink of Charlie’s homemade cigarette away and headed for the back door of the diner. What he’d been trying to do for some time now was look inside those crates they’d been loading into the garage, but Charlie was watching him like a hawk. “Get Hawkins,” Charlie called to him before he got inside, “bring him out here. Tell him we got what he wants, but it will cost him extra this time.” “Right.” Dane opened the back door. That was encouraging, but still, he had to see it before he could make his move. He was so close. He couldn’t wait to get off this case, away from Charlie, who was one of the most obnoxious creeps he’d ever met. He walked into the kitchen and instantly spotted an old guy cooking. The cook looked up in surprise. “Hey, you can’t come in here,” he said. “I’m looking for the boss. Have you seen him?” “Yeah. He’s in his office,” he told him. He pointed through to the restaurant. “Go through there and turn right. His office is next door. You got to wear your shirt in the restaurant.” “Thanks,” Dane said, and started to unwrap his shirt from around his waist. * Mark sat in the car outside the diner with his older brother for almost ten minutes before he was convinced Frankie had really heard him. “Just talk, Frankie, you promise? No rough stuff.” “Okay, okay, talk. Just talk.” He pointed at him. “Did you know that that bastard hung up on me last time I tried to reach him by phone? He just dismissed me like yesterday’s garbage.” “All right. Don’t go and get all worked up about it now. And, Frankie”—Mark grabbed his arm—“focus. If he doesn’t want to talk this time, we’ll just leave, okay? You can’t risk any trouble with the law.” “Yeah, yeah. You sound like a broken record. I know that. We’ll make him listen, little brother, don’t worry.” Mark threw Frankie a hesitant look and got out of the car in front of the Marina Diner. “Let me do the talking,” Mark insisted, walking into the restaurant with Frankie on his heels. The place was about half full. He scanned the room for anyone who might match the description of this Christopher Hawkins, but didn’t see anyone. They wandered

over to the cash register where a waitress was making change for a customer and waited impatiently for a second or two. Finally, it was Frankie who interrupted. “We need to see the manager, Christopher Hawkins. Where is he?” She glanced at them, hooked her thumb over her shoulder, and returned her attention to the cash register. Mark began to walk past the register in the direction she’d pointed when suddenly his brother forged ahead and pushed open the door of the kitchen, hard. They both heard the crash and a groan. A man stumbled backwards. Mark gasped. “Oh God, are you…?” “There you are, you son of a bitch!” Frankie growled. “We want to talk to you.” The man dropped the T-shirt he was holding, and put his hand to his head. “Ow. Jesus Christ. What in the hell is wrong with you?” “Sorry,” Mark said. “We didn’t know you were in the way. Julie is our sister, and we need to talk to you.” “Get the hell out of my way,” the man demanded. “Now listen.” Frankie reached out for him and took him by the arm. “I’m getting really tired of this brush-off. You’re going to listen if I have to—” “Frank,” Mark said, trying to pull him off, “there’s no need for—” “I’m warning you,” the man threatened. “Take your hands off me or I’ll knock your head off.” “Not until you ’fess up to what you did,” Frankie countered, taking a swing at him. The man swung back and hit Frankie square in the mouth. Mark tried to intervene. He didn’t see his brother frantically searching in his pocket. He pulled something out, and stabbed blindly at the man with it. “Frankie, wh-what is that?” Mark stammered. “Fuck,” the man swore, staggering back and grabbing his arm. “What in hell?” He moved back in their direction again, on the attack. Frankie doubled up his fist, and hit him hard on the head. The man in front of him fell forward, and Mark reached out and grabbed him before he hit the floor. The man mumbled something, groggily. Frankie lunged forward and hit the man again. Mark saw the glint of brass. “Shit, Frank, no.” Frankie grinned. “Brass knuckles. That put him down.” Mark’s eyes widened. An old man with a spatula in his hand was circling them now. “Hey, what are you doing there? You can’t do that in here.” “Ah, he’s sick,” Mark blurted out, his heart racing. He looked at his brother. He was holding the man up. “He’s in shock. He needs his medicine.” “He’s a doctor,” Frankie said, and this time Mark didn’t argue with him. “We’ll take him to the hospital.” Frankie urged Mark to drag the man in the direction of the back door. The cook followed them. “You hit him. I saw you.” “No. It was the door. He’s a diabetic. The doc here had to give him a shot. He’s gets crazy, doesn’t know what he’s doing, aggressive. We’ll take him to the hospital,” Frankie muttered. The man struggled some as they got him out the door, then stumbled drunkenly

and went limp. Shit. He was a heavy bugger. “Someone call the police,” the cook yelled. “Call the police.” Mark and Frankie managed to get the man out the door. In the parking lot, there was a man standing beside a truck with rotten teeth. He was smoking a cigarette. “Hey,” he said, taking a few steps in their direction, “what’s going on? Where are you guys going with my driver?” “I’m a doctor,” Mark said hastily as they propelled the dead weight forward. His brother opened the back door of his car and shoved the man in. “He’s sick, passed out in the kitchen,” Frankie called. He crawled in with the body and told Mark to get into the car. Once Mark got behind the wheel and closed the door, he broke out in a sweat. “Oh God, oh God, oh God.” The cook yelled out something about the police again. The man in the parking lot threw away his cigarette and raced to his truck. “Oh my God, oh my God,” Mark tried to put the key in the ignition, but his hand was shaking too much. “Did we kill him?” “No, and will you stop saying, oh God, oh God? Just drive. I’ll tie his wrists in case he wakes up. You take him out to the camp.” “Me? Me take him to the camp?” “Yeah, you. I can’t. If he presses charges, I could do time. He won’t press charges against you.” “Why in the hell not?” “You’re a doctor. Doctors don’t go to jail.” “I’m not a fucking doctor. I’m a vet, damn it! What do you expect me to do with him at the lake, drown him?” “Of course not, just talk to him.” “You know, I really resent this,” Mark bellowed, punching the steering wheel. “You set me up. You intended this all along.” “You’re the levelheaded one, the one with the fancy education. You can talk to him. He’ll listen to you. He thinks I’m an uneducated hick. Now drive, will you?” Mark finally managed to turn the key in the ignition and put his foot on the gas. He drove away from the curb, his eyes on the rear mirror. “What in hell did you have to hit him for?” “How were we going to get him out of there?” “You said we were just going to talk to him.” “I lied.” “What did you give him? What did you have in that syringe?” “Something to knock him out, that’s all.” “Do you even know what it is? You stole it, didn’t you? It’s illegal.” “Don’t stress. They’ll never miss it.” “Is he bleeding?” “A little. He’s going to have one hell of a headache when he wakes up, but he’ll be fine.” “What is that drug exactly? Are there any side effects? Could he have a concussion, go into a coma, or…?” “Mark, stop asking so many damn questions? He’ll live.”

“Well, I want to know what to tell the judge before they pass sentence.” “Stop it, you won’t be telling the judge anything. He’s not going to go to the police. He’s the guilty party. You’ll talk to him, get him to do the right thing by our sister, and then let him go.” “And what if he wakes up … or worse, doesn’t wake up at all?” “He’ll wake up in a few hours. Stop feeling guilty. I gave him plenty of chances. When Julie called this guy and told him she was pregnant, he said some horrible things to her, basically told her she was on her own. And I called him three times on the phone and left messages. He never returned any of them. Once he did answer, he told me where to get off when he knew it was me, and he hung up on me. Now, the minute he saw us, he tried to attack us.” “I don’t deny that he’s a creep, Frankie. I … I don’t think this is the way to…” “Trust me. It will work out.” “Did you tie him up good?” Mark asked nervously. “Yes, and if you don’t want him running off on you, you better tie him up damn good and tight once you get there, because this guy is big. He’s like six foot three, and all muscle, and from the size of that bump on his head, he’s going to be pissed. Okay, pull over,” Frankie told him. “Let me off here.” “Where are you going?” “To the pool hall.” “Great.” Mark pulled over suddenly. “You play pool while I kidnap someone.” “Make sure he gets the message. I’m depending on you to do this right, Mark,” Frankie said. “It’s for Julie.” His head was spinning. “Okay. I’ll try to talk some sense into this guy over the weekend, and hope to God he’s not into pressing charges.” Frankie got out of the car. “I told you, he won’t press charges.” When Mark was alone on the highway, he tried not to give in to that nagging little voice asking what in hell he was doing. He switched it off and tried to justify what he was doing. He thought about his sister. She was important to him. She didn’t deserve to be treated like this. This guy in the back seat had told her he loved her, slept with her, then when he found out she was pregnant, told her he never wanted to see her again. And to add insult to injury, he’d fired her. He had to try to get this guy to listen to reason, not only for Julie’s sake, but for Frankie’s. It was better he did this, than Frankie, who could lose his temper completely and do something crazy. Maybe Christopher Hawkins was as scared as Julie was. A baby was a big responsibility; or maybe he was just an irresponsible prick. Whichever he was, at the very least, he should be made to acknowledge his responsibility. “It will all be okay,” Mark told himself. When this guy found out why he’d done what he did, he’d understand. He’d probably do the same thing for his own sister. It wasn’t as if he intended to hurt him. He just wished Frankie hadn’t gotten so carried away. If he had stayed calm, maybe they could have talked to this guy at the diner and then left. A half hour later, Mark was opening the back door of Frankie’s car in front of his parents’ cottage. He pulled the unconscious man from the car, and half dragged him inside. He was heaving from the exertion when he finally managed to get him onto the bed. He pulled the man’s legs apart and tied his ankles tightly to the bedposts, then lifted

his arms and tied each wrist securely. “There, you won’t get away until you hear what I have to say,” he muttered, separating the dark hair and checking the gash on his head. It was still bleeding a little. He went to the bathroom and got a wet washcloth. He applied a bit of pressure on the wound. He wasn’t sure which had done the worse damage, the brass knuckles or the door. Satisfied that the wound was going to be okay, he stood back and looked at him, trying to calm the trembling in his gut. This man wasn’t at all the kind of man he would have pictured Julie with. She usually went for those skinny kids with their pants below their underwear and their hair streaked orange. This was no skinny kid. He had a gorgeous face, square jaw, one of those dark shadows that was always a turn-on, and the way he was lying there shirtless was pretty provocative; great chest, well-muscled and sculpted, muscular biceps, and not exactly poverty-stricken when it came to the equipment between the thighs. He seemed way too much man for his sister. When the sun went down, Mark took the bag of supplies he’d brought with him out of the car trunk, and made himself some supper. He’d been writing down various versions of what he would say to Christopher Hawkins when he was conscious. When he heard a deep groan, he froze. Dear God, he was waking up. His hands started to shake. Mark stood up and walked slowly to the bedroom. He tried to tell himself he had to play tough. He’d even put a bit of scare into him if he had to. He cleared his voice and walked into the room, squaring his jaw. “What in the fuck!” The man on the bed pulled furiously against his constraints, glaring at him. “Untie me right now.” “You … you won’t get loose,” Mark said hesitantly, keeping his distance. “I’m pretty good at tying knots.” “Who in the hell are you? Why did you hit me? What did you stick me with?” “I don’t think it was anything that will leave any permanent damage, although it wouldn’t hurt for guys like you with your lack of morals to be impotent.” “Impotent!” His eyes widened. “What did you give me again?” “Don’t worry about that. We need to talk.” “Answer my question, who in the fuck are you? Who do you work for?” “I’m a veterinarian. You must know who I am now?” He narrowed his eyes. “Why in the fuck would I? I don’t even have a cat.” “There’s no need to be hostile, to swear at me like that.” “What are you, some kind of crazy missionary?” “I just want to talk to you about Julie.” “Who in the hell is Julie?” He pulled against the ropes again. Mark took a step backwards. He could see the muscles straining across his chest, in his biceps. He was really pissed. He hoped to hell he would calm down. “You’re wasting your strength. I’ll release you eventually when you’re prepared to listen to reason.” “Reason? What reason? This defies all reason. I’m going to kick your ass.” “Let’s say it was your sister,” Mark said, trying to keep his voice controlled, swallowing the fear. “I don’t have a sister,” he growled. “And your sister isn’t going to have a brother when I get done with you. What in hell do you want? Do you have any fucking idea how much trouble you’re in?” “I’m sure you’ll forget all about this after we talk.”

“I wouldn’t count on it.” “There are consequences to having sex.” Mark walked over and looked down at him. You told her you loved her. She’s heartbroken. And there’s the baby. What do you intend on doing about the baby?” “Baby?” he mouthed. “I don’t know this Julie, and I certainly don’t know anything about a baby. You got the wrong guy.” Mark sighed and shook his head. “I expected a lot of things, but I never thought you’d sink this low. Now you’re saying you don’t even know her? She worked for you.” “She never worked for me. I work by myself. Who in the hell do you think I am?” He winced. “Shit, my head hurts. What did you hit me with?” “You hit yourself with the door and … there were some brass knuckles. I didn’t hit you, my brother did, and you’re lucky he’s not here right now. He wouldn’t have used them if you hadn’t tried to attack us. As soon as you saw us, you knew who we were, and—” “I’ve never seen you before in my life, you or that other hothead.” “I’m sure Julie showed you pictures.” “Julie didn’t show me fuck all nothing. Hell, I don’t even know a Julie!” “You’re getting hostile again. I’m not going to talk to you if you don’t talk nice.” “Nice?” “I’ll put some ice on your head, and—” “Don’t touch me. You’re nuts. Listen,” he said, looking like he was trying to get ahold of his temper, “just let me go. I won’t kill you, and I won’t haul your ass to jail, okay?” “Your jaw is clenched.” “Fuck,” he growled. “Come on, guy, please.” He pulled against the constraints again. “I really got to go. I was just in the middle of … something important.” “The diner will wait. This is more important.” He sighed. “The diner? I don’t work at the diner.” “Another story, Christopher?” “Dane. My name is Dane.” “So, Dane,” Mark mocked, “what other names do you use to seduce poor, unsuspecting young women? You know, the more I know about you, the less I like you.” “The feeling is mutual, believe me. And I don’t seduce poor, unsuspecting young women.” “So, just for the sake of allowing you to weave your fairy tales, what were you doing then, if not managing the restaurant?” “None of your business.” “Here, let’s prove who you are. Where’s your driver’s license?” Mark patted the pockets of his pants. “I don’t have any ID on me, and watch the hands.” “Why don’t you have ID?” He didn’t answer. “You are a bad liar, Christopher.” “My name is not Christopher. I told you, it’s Dane. Do I look like a Christopher to you?” “You don’t look like the kind of man my sister would go for either, but miraculously,

she’s pregnant.” “Yes, it is a miracle. And if I don’t look like the kind of guy your sister would go for, why in the hell do you think I’m this Christopher guy?” “The waitress told me. And you have dark hair.” “Oh, well then,” he sneered, “there you go. I have dark hair. That’s certainly enough evidence to convict me.” “I can’t talk to you this way. And believe me,” Mark pointed at him, “we are going to talk. I’m pretty pissed at you, you know.” “Apparently so, and do you want a news flash, I’m pretty pissed at you too.” Mark sighed. “I’ll get something for your head. Wait here.” “Is that a joke? Where in hell do you think I’m going to go? And don’t bother. I told you, I don’t want you touching me.” “Try to be nice,” Mark said, going into the bathroom and coming back with a damp cloth. “Be nice? Be nice?” he mocked. “You have me tied up here like a Thanksgiving turkey, calling me by some strange name and going on about some girl I never heard of, and you want me to be nice?” “You’re yelling. There is no reason to yell. All I want is for you to accept your responsibility. My sister is pregnant.” He sighed. “If I do accept this responsibility, will you untie me?” “When I say all I have to say, and if you’re sincere.” “What are you, a preacher?” “I’ll ignore that comment. Look, even if you don’t want to marry her, you could at least offer to help with the baby.” “Fine, I’ll send a baby gift, will that make you happy?” “Don’t you care? It’s your son, or daughter. It could be twins.” “Holy Christ, now they’re twins. Look, just call your sister. Get her over here … where in hell are we anyway?” “She doesn’t know I took you out here. She wouldn’t approve.” “What a shocker. Most people don’t approve of kidnapping and assault.” “I’m not kidnapping you, and you weren’t assaulted.” “This bump on my God damned head says different.” “It was self-defense. And you are not a prisoner. When I find that I’ve touched some degree of sentiment in your soul, I’ll release you.” The man on the bed closed his eyes. “My soul now? Okay, you’ve touched my soul. I didn’t mean it. I’ll, ah … do anything … say anything … just, untie me, let me go. I was so close. I almost had what I wanted and then you…” “You have to learn to think of others sometimes. Not everything is all about you and what’s between your legs. I’m going to leave you alone to think about that for awhile.” “No, don’t. Don’t leave me. Listen, tell me more about Julie … please. Ah, does she want to keep the baby?” “I don’t know. A lot of that will depend on you. Are you willing to help her? It’s a big sacrifice on her part.?” “Right. Okay. I’ll write a check but you have to untie me.” “You think throwing money at this will solve the problem?” “Yes. No … I…” He sighed heavily. “I don’t know. What’s your name?”

“You know my name.” “Remind me. I’m forgetful.” “Mark.” “Mark, please, listen to me. I am not this guy. I am not this insensitive ingrate who knocked up your sister and then pretended not to know her.” “There,” Mark said, smiling. “We’re getting somewhere. Go on.” “That’s it. I’m not him. I’d never do that for a variety of reasons. I’m the last guy who—” “Back to that. Fine. I have all night, all weekend.” He shook his head. “Frankie was right. You’re pathetic.”

Chapter Three A string of curses rang off of Dane’s tongue as he watched that crazy guy leave the room. How unlucky could he get? He pulled again on the ropes which encircled his wrists and ankles, and swore in frustration. It was no use. Unless he could convince this guy to release him, he was stuck here, and any chance he would have of looking in those crates was getting scarcer by the minute. He told himself to calm down. He was so angry he was afraid he was going to explode, and he needed to think. He was helpless to do anything tied up like this, and this Mark guy was so gung ho on getting the irresponsible jerk that had victimized his sister, he wasn’t even thinking straight. The only positive thing in this whole disaster was that he didn’t sense any malice from Mark. Dane truly believed that eventually he’d set him free, but he had to try to convince him to do that now. His best strategy, then, was to play along, to lie and admit that he was this Christopher and … Christopher Hawkins? Shit. Now that he’d calmed down a bit, he recognized that name. He was the manager of the restaurant. He was the buyer. So, it looked like good old Christopher was more than just a no-good Romeo; he was one of the guys he was looking to nail. “Are you hungry?” Mark asked him, walking back into the room a few minutes later. Dane looked at him. He did look like the reluctant abductor. He wondered who had put him up to this. Obviously the other guy, but where in hell was he? Not to mention that he was really cute, about five-ten, nice body, slender but toned, sandy blond hair, eyes were dark blue … maybe even greenish. Too bad Mark was such a lunatic, and on Dane’s “to beat the crap out of” list. “I’m fine. Look, I’ve been thinking about what you said. I shouldn’t have lied to you about Julie. I’m ashamed.” He turned his face to the side. “Do you love her?” Mark asked. “I don’t love any of those women,” he said. That wasn’t that far from the truth. Change the sex, and he was describing himself. God knows how many men he’d slept with, and he couldn’t honestly say that he had loved any of them. “Then you lied to her?” “I did. I wanted to have sex.” He looked at him. Mark looked as if he might hit him. He marched around the room. “That was low. She loves you. You broke her heart. I don’t understand. You are a good-looking man. Why do you have to lie to get laid?” “Would it help if I said I was sorry?” “You need to say that to her.” “Yes, yes. Take me to her and I’ll tell her.” He lifted his head off the pillow, nodding enthusiastically. “Not so fast. What about the baby?” “I’ll talk to her about that. I’ll help out any way I can. Okay? Won’t you untie me now?” he asked hopefully. “Look, I’m callous. I’m a big jerk, really. I’m not a nice guy. I’ll do the right thing. I’ll give her money, go to prenatal classes, even change diapers.” Mark tilted his head. “You’ve got to stop thinking with your cock.” “I will. I will stop thinking with my cock. I’ll forget I even have a cock. I promise. Now, could you please untie me?” He gave Mark a big smile.

“You won’t hurt me if I untie you?” “You taught me a lesson. I won’t forget. You’d make a great preacher. Your sister should be so proud. Please untie me.” Mark moved closer. “You really understand why I did this? You won’t call the police or anything?” “No. That would be too embarrassing.” “I knew that. It’s what I told Frankie.” “Who’s Frankie again?” “My brother.” “Oh. Where is he right about now?” “Not here,” Mark said. “I won’t go into that. He told me not to worry, said that you wouldn’t go to the police. I was worried, you know … it’s not like I do this kind of thing every day.” Mark began to untie one ankle. “I hope we can be friends, Christopher. If Julie decides to keep the baby, you’ll want to be in the baby’s life and well, you’ll be family.” “Right, right,” Dane said, watching anxiously as Mark undid the other ankle, then moved up to his wrist. When he had undone one wrist, it was all Dane could do not to reach out and grab him and choke the shit out of him, but he controlled himself. When he was finally free, he sat up on the side of the bed, rubbed his wrists and looked at him. The anger came bubbling up inside suddenly like a volcano. “How’s your head?” “It hurts,” he said between clenched teeth, feeling his pulse throb in his jaw. He stood up. That little bastard had probably made him blow this case, a case he’d been working on for months now with that ingrate Charlie. Mark took a step back. “Are you scared of me?” He gave him a sinister smile. “N … no.” “Well, you should be, you stupid fucking little prick, because I’m about to kick your ass!” Mark cast one alarmed look back at him, then headed out of the bedroom on the run. “You said you wouldn’t hurt me,” he called out, bolting out the door with Dane on his heels. “Wrong,” he bellowed, chasing him down the stairs, “you said I wouldn’t hurt you.” * Mark’s heart was racing. The enraged man on his heels was a hell of a lot bigger than he was. Twice he’d already grabbed hold of Mark’s T-shirt. There was no way he was going to be able to outrun this guy; not to mention, he was fighting mad. Mark ran in the direction of the lake, probably not the best plan. He stopped when he reached the water, looking desperately around for any type of weapon. The only thing he could find was a short, stubby piece of wood. He held it out in front of him, waving it in a way he figured at least looked threatening. “Come near me and I’ll use it.” Dane came to a dead halt. Suddenly, a smirk appeared on his mouth. “What exactly do you plan on doing with that?” “I … I … don’t know, but don’t try me.” The man folded his arms across his chest. “Do you have any idea how much trouble you’ve caused me?”

“You didn’t mean anything you said back there, did you?” “Not a word of it. I’m not your sister’s lover. Mark, I don’t do women. I’m gay.” “Gay?” “Yeah. And would a straight man say that, given how homophobic and paranoid some of them are?” “I … I … I don’t know.” Mark waved the stick at him. “You’re desperate enough to say anything to get out of your responsibility.” “Mark. Put down the stick.” He came towards him. “You’re going to…” “It’s okay. Put it down because if you whack me with that, I will kill you.” “Okay.” He took a step back. “Do you believe that you got the wrong guy?” “I … I’m not sure, but I’ve done all I can. I give up.” “Now, you’re going to drive me back to that diner.” “So, you are Christopher,” Mark accused, narrowing his eyes. “I’m not Christopher. Stop calling me that,” Dane snapped. “Then what do you want to go back to the diner for?” “That’s my business. Come on. On top of that,” he held out his hand, “give me your car keys.” “I’m not giving you anything.” “Mark, give me your car keys.” Mark took another step back, just as Dane took hold of his T-shirt. “No. I can’t let anyone drive Frankie’s car.” He resisted. The other man held on tight. Mark stumbled back and they both fell into the lake. They struggled. Dane began frantically searching Mark’s pockets. When he took out the car keys, Mark grabbed at his hand, trying to take them back. Suddenly, they went flying through the air and landed in the middle of the lake. Dane let out a howl of frustration. “Shit!” He dived under the water, trying to find the keys while Mark waded out of the lake, trying to catch his breath. “Fuck, God damn it!” Dane roared, coming out of the water, his jeans soaking wet. Mark stood there, glaring at him. “That was bright,” Mark accused, “now we’ve lost the car keys.” “You’re the dummy who backed up into the goddamned lake,” Dane said, undoing his jeans. “What are you … what are you doing?” Mark demanded as the man in front of him pushed his jeans over his hips. Dane paused and looked at him. “I’m taking off my pants, then I’ll going to hot-wire that car.” Mark turned his back. “You can’t get naked here.” “Why, Mark,” he sniggered, “are you getting turned on?” “Get real. You’re not that cute.” “Yeah, well, I saw you checking out my package back there. You mentioned my cock twice, maybe even more than that.” “I was not…” Mark turned around to see him standing there stark naked, wringing out his underwear. Oh my God! He had the cutest ass, not to mention the substantial size of his … Mark cleared his throat. “Anyway”—he averted his eyes—“just because a man

has a … you know … is well … let’s say equipped, doesn’t make him attractive … I mean … totally attractive. It’s all right if you like that kind of thing, but…” Dane was looking at him curiously, eyes narrowed. “Well,” said Mark, throwing up his hands in frustration, “you’d understand what I was saying if you were really gay, like you claim.” When a hand reached out and grabbed his arm, Mark didn’t expect it. He was snatched up against a strong, naked chest, and held fast. The man’s mouth came down hard on his, the kiss hard and passionate. He found his mouth opening to his hungry lips, meeting his tongue in a fiery dance of need. Suddenly, he was released. Mark stood there dazed. He was speechless. “Are you convinced now? Is that gay enough for you? You need more proof? I can give it to you if you want.” “Ah, give it to me…” Mark murmured, still lost in that kiss. “I mean, ah, no … don’t, that’s okay.” He took a few steps back, slowly returning to reality. “There is still enough sun,” he said, as if nothing at all had happened. “I’ll just stretch my jeans out on the rock and they should dry.” “Why don’t you have a shirt on?” Mark blinked. “I lost it when you clobbered me with the door. I was in the process of putting it back on. You owe me a T-shirt.” “I have something for you to … wear.” Mark headed for the cabin. Shit, he couldn’t just let the guy parade around naked in front of him, although he didn’t seem to be at all shy about it. Then why should he? The guy had the body of a god: hard, all muscle, all those hills and valleys in just the right places. And he’d kissed him. Jesus. He’d actually kissed him. Mark hunted in the bedroom closet and found some bathing trunks. He supposed he’d have to take off his wet clothes as well. His eyes went to the blanket. He’d wrap himself in that. There was no way he was prancing around naked in front of this guy. Gay. He said he was gay. Well, he had to be at least bisexual, because that was no straight man kiss, not that he’d ever been kissed by a straight man. “What are you doing?” Mark turned around to see him standing in the door. He averted his eyes and held out a pair of bathing trunks. “Here. You can put these on?” “You think?” He took them, stretching them out in the air. “What are these, child’s size?” “No. They belong to me. It’s better than being naked. And I resent that remark.” “Sorry.” He gave him an innocent smile. He was too damn good-looking for his own good … pure, one hundred percent male and pure, one hundred percent trouble. He could understand why Julie fell for him. “Does Julie know you’re bi?” “Does Julie know I’m what?” He was still examining the bathing trunks curiously. “Bi. You don’t kiss like a straight guy.” “Thanks, I guess.” He laughed. “And how many straight guys have you kissed exactly?” “Will ya … please put those on,” Mark said, turning his back. “I’m going to take off my own clothes, so give me some privacy.” “Mark, they’re too small. It will be worse, believe me. Give me the blanket then,

since you’re such a prude.” “I am not a prude,” Mark snapped, glaring at him. “It feels icky, that’s all.” “Icky?” “Yes, icky. I don’t feel like walking around naked with my sister’s bisexual lover.” “I’m bisexual now?” “Does Julie know?” “Hell, I didn’t even know myself.” He tossed the bathing suit on the bed. “Can I call you Chris?” “No. Call me Dane. That’s my name.” “Okay, we’ll pretend. Dane. It’s after your dog, right?” “I don’t have a dog.” He took the blanket off the bed and wrapped it around him. “And it’s short for Damien. And don’t make any reference to that devil movie.” “What devil movie?” “Never mind.” “A lot of people are bisexual, you know.” “Really. Good for them. That’s because they don’t know who in hell they are. I’m not one of them. I like cock. Next subject.” Mark pointed to the door. “I’m going to take these clothes off now.” “Can I watch?” “No, you can’t watch.” Dane laughed. “Damn.” Mark sighed. He was so damn cute. He had to get out of here, away from that guy. The last thing he needed to do was fall for his sister’s no-good boyfriend. **** When Mark came back outside wrapped in his own blanket, the man was sitting on the stoop, the blanket settled on his lap. “You don’t have a cell phone, do you?” he asked. “No. I don’t believe in them. I have more control when I do the calling.” He looked up at him. “How did I know you were going to say that? Who are you hiding from, your criminal contacts?” “Ha, ha. If you must know, my family. Anyway, they’ll manage without you.” “Who?” “The staff at the diner.” “I should hope so,” he muttered. “I’m not much of a cook.” “You can’t cook?” “I do takeout.” “At the diner?” Mark sat down beside him, pulling his blanket around him. He wrinkled his nose. The man beside him gave him a look. “Oh, we’re still pretending, are we, Dane?” “You’re in fairy-tale land, brother, not me. All I want to do is get my pants and go back to the diner. Any idea how we’re going to get out of here if I can’t hot-wire that thing?” He indicated the car. “You’re not hot-wiring my brother’s car, and don’t worry, if I don’t come back by tomorrow, someone will come out to get us. My family is weird that way.”

“Weird, I can believe, if they’re related to you.” “That’s not nice. I’m actually the normal one.” “Really? How fascinating. What are they, serial killers?” “Of course not.” “Anyway, I can’t wait until tomorrow.” “You might not have a choice. Are you planning to call Julie?” “I give up.” He shook his head. “I just don’t have time to do this now. It might already be too late. I’ve probably blown it, thanks to you.” “You’re talking in riddles. Let’s talk about something else. I want to know if you’ve been intimate with men.” He glanced at him. “Excuse me?” “Am I being too personal?” “You are too much.” “What? I’m worried about my sister. I have no idea where that…” he looked at his groin, “that has been.” “It’s called a cock, and I don’t think you have to worry about me infecting her with anything.” “You’ve been tested.” “Every six months.” “That’s good.” There was silence for a few minutes. “Is that the reason you don’t want to be with Julie?” “Huh?” “She doesn’t know about the men?” “Mark, please.” He took him by the shoulders. “Stop. Look, after we get back to the city and I do what I need to do, I’ll come by to see Julie, and you’ll see that she doesn’t know me.” Mark nodded as he released him. “So, until then just pretend that my name is Dane.” “Why Dane? I still think you chose it because of a dog.” “So, you don’t like my name. I get that. I don’t have a dog.” “It’s very male.” “Well, if you haven’t noticed, I am one.” “I noticed.” He smiled faintly. “Where are we anyway?” “Lake Silk, about an hour from the city. This is my parents’ cottage.” “So, I bet you did a lot of making out up here.” “Of course not,” Mark said. “This place belongs to my parents. It’s a family thing.” Dane laughed. “Now what’s funny about that?” “It’s like you walked right off of a Disney set.” “Very funny. I’m not some innocent, you know.” Dane lifted an eyebrow. “A virgin soul with the heart of a criminal. How poetic.” “I’m not a virgin,” Mark muttered, feeling stupid. “But you’re a criminal?” “Of course not.” He didn’t need to tell him that his father and brother were, or used

to be. “You assaulted and kidnapped me, not to mention almost preached me to death.” Mark glanced up at him. “I didn’t mean to do any of that, except maybe the preaching. You attacked us. We didn’t have a choice. And technically, it was my brother who hit you. He tends to be a little … well, he has a bad temper. He didn’t mean it.” “Well, that’s comforting. And I did not attack you. You slammed the door in my head, then I got stuck with some drug, and your crazy brother hit me on the head with … what was that anyway? It felt like steel?” “Brass.” “He hit me with brass knuckles? You could kill someone with those. No wonder my head hurts like hell.” “He didn’t mean for that to happen.” He stood up. “But he brought them with him, which means he meant to use them. And you still didn’t answer me. What did you inject me with?” “I’m not sure. I think it was a drug used for insomnia. Frank said it was harmless. It just makes you sleep.” “And this impotent stuff you talked about?” “Oh, I just said that to scare you.” “Well, it worked. Don’t even joke about that stuff.” “I know Julie is a grown woman, and it may seem like we’re being a little overprotective but … you’d have to know my family. You’re lucky it’s me up here with you. I came because I knew you’d be better off with me than with Frankie.” “Funny, but I don’t feel very lucky.” “Let’s just make the best of it, okay?” Suddenly, Dane was headed for Frankie’s car. “I wouldn’t fool with my brother’s car if I were you. He’s a little temperamental about his vehicle.” “He’s a little temperamental about a lot of things, it seems.” He glanced at him. “I’ll need a screwdriver, wire strippers, and a pair of insulated gloves.” Mark raised an eyebrow. “I don’t have any of those things … maybe a screwdriver, but … Frankie will be really pissed. You’d better not.” “Ask me if I care.” He opened the driver’s side and bent into the car. Mark jumped up and ran over to the car. “What are you doing? Do you know what you’re doing?” Dane turned around and looked at him. “Where’s the screwdriver?” “I don’t … inside, I guess.” “Get it. Otherwise, I’ll have to rip out the—” “Don’t rip out anything! My brother will kill me.” “Then if you want to live, you better get me that screwdriver.” Mark raced into the house and hunted for the screwdriver. When he came back out, Dane was hunched over in the front seat fiddling with something. “What … ah … are you doing?” Dane glanced at him. “Give me the screwdriver.” “Not until you tell me what you’re doing.” Dane sighed. “I’m going to remove the covers and panels around the tumbler.” “That doesn’t sound good.” Mark shook his head.

Dane held out his hand. “Will you give me the damn screwdriver?” “What are you going to do with it?” “I know what I’d like to do with it.” “You’re not nice.” “I know that. Okay, I’m going to find a panel with some wires clipped to the rear of the tumbler. I might be able to manually turn the ignition switch.” “What if you can’t … manually do … that?” “Then I have to strip the wires.” “Don’t strip anything.” Dane motioned with his hand. “Screwdriver.” Mark sighed and handed it to him. He took a step back, almost tripping over his blanket. This had not turned out at all like he had thought. He wasn’t sure who in hell this guy was anymore. “Damn it,” Dane cursed, lifting up his head. “What? Did you break something?” He glanced at him. “No. Forget it. And if you hadn’t thrown the damn keys in the lake, I wouldn’t have to…” “I didn’t throw them into the lake. I … wait,” he said, hearing the sound of a car coming up the road. Dane sat up in the car. “What?” “A car’s coming. It must be my brother. He probably—” Mark stopped. He didn’t recognize the vehicle at all, a dark blue New Yorker with tinted windows. “It doesn’t look like one of Frankie’s friends.” Dane got out of the car, hugging the blanket around him. The car came to a halt. The tall, dark-haired man who got out of the driver’s seat was wearing a black suit and sunglasses. He nodded at them with a wide grin. He reached over and opened the passenger door. Frankie got out, followed by another man in a blue suit. “Shit,” Dane said under his breath, “I don’t much care for the looks of this.” “Frankie,” Mark said, “what’s going on?” The man behind Frankie shoved him forward. Mark spotted the gun and glanced at Dane. “What’s this about?” “What are you asking me for?” Dane muttered. “I don’t know.” “Frankie?” Mark said. The smiling man took off his sunglasses. He walked over to Dane. “This gets more interesting all the time,” he said. He looked at Frankie. “You’re involved with this as well? This is my lucky day.” He looked at Dane. “Where’s my stuff?” “Stuff?” Dane echoed. “Don’t get smart,” he growled, doubling up his fist and hitting Dane in the jaw. The impact drove him back a few steps, but he remained standing. Mark gasped as the blood flowed from his mouth. “Your accomplice took off with half of my merchandise. I want it.” “I can get it back,” Dane said. “Get what back?” Mark asked, looking from one to the other. He looked at Frankie. “What’s going on?” “Let my brother go,” Frankie pleaded. “He’s a doctor. He’s a good man. He’s got

nothing to do with it.” “Until you give me the money you owe me, he’s my insurance.” He looked at Dane now. “And you, you bastard, you’re going to find my stuff.” “Should I take them inside, Chris?” Blue Suit asked, pushing Frankie forward again. “Chris?” Mark echoed. He noticed that the man’s black hair touched his collar. “Oh my God, you’re Christopher Hawkins?” He smiled and nodded. “At your service.” “Then who is…?” He looked at Dane in amazement. “Obviously not Christopher Hawkins,” Dane mocked. “Then who is this guy you made me bring up here?” His gaze settled on Frankie. Frankie shrugged. “I don’t know.” “I’ll tell you who he is,” Hawkins growled, “he’s a fucking double-crossing thief, that’s who he is, and if he doesn’t find his partner who stole my stuff, he’s going to be a dead double-crossing thief. Get those two inside. Frankie and I got some digging to do.” Blue Suit flashed his gun at them while Hawkins dragged Frankie off. “Get inside,” he barked. Once they were inside, he ordered them to sit together on the sofa. “Where are your clothes?” “Drying,” Mark said. “You see, we…” Dane looked at him. “He doesn’t care.” Mark sighed. The man with the gun marched around. He went over to the window and looked out. “I’m sorry,” Mark said in a whisper. “I apologize for—” “You thinking I was the guy who knocked up your sister is the least of my worries right now.” “Why did you rip off this guy?” “I didn’t rip off anyone.” “So you’re going to deny that too?” Dane sighed. “Just shut up, okay?” “You shut up.” “Both of you shut up,” the guy with the gun grunted, walking back over to where they sat. “You know,” he said, looking at Dane, “you’re a real looker, pretty, pretty, boy.” “Oh, great,” Dane muttered under his breath. “I might be interested in seeing what you got going on under that blanket.” “Do you want to live?” Dane glared at him. He laughed. “I have the upper hand. I have a gun.” “I promise you, you try it, one of us will be dead before you even cop a feel.” Mark saw the dangerous glint in Dane’s eyes, and he guessed the gunman saw it too, because he laughed again nervously, but backed off. “How did your brother get mixed up in this stuff?” Dane glanced at Mark. “He’s not. He’s straight. I mean, he’s legit. He’s straight, too.” “Yeah, I got that.” “All of this is a mistake.” “Doesn’t look like it.” “He tries.”

“I guess he needs to try harder.” “Like you can talk. You’re a thief.” Dane didn’t reply. His attention was on the guy with the gun. Without warning, he sprang off the sofa and jumped the guy. Mark froze. The guy turned around and Dane grabbed the gun, wrestling for it. He hit the guy on the head, who then fell. “Come on,” he said to Mark, the gun in his hand. “We got to get out of here.” He glanced out the window, his chest heaving. “I have to get my pants. Go and get your clothes on. Now!” “You … look what you just did. I’m not going anywhere with you. You’re a criminal.” “It’s either me or them. Make a choice!” Mark raced to the bedroom and jumped into his pants. He yanked on his T-shirt inside out. When he came back out of the bedroom, Dane grabbed him and put Mark behind him. He had on his damp jeans. “Now,” he said softly, “when I say to go, you go, okay?” “My brother, we can’t just leave him here.” “Never mind your brother. We got to get out of here.” He glanced around the door. “Okay, go, get into the car, the passenger seat. Keep your head down.” “Why don’t we take their car?” Mark looked at him. “Hawkins took the keys out of the car. It’s too far away. I’m halfway to hot-wiring that one … and stop asking me so many goddamned questions. You’re going to get us killed. Just go.” Mark scrambled out the door. A few seconds later, Dane was in the driver’s seat, his head down, fiddling with the wires. “Ouch, God damn it,” he swore. “What are you doing?” “The wires, they’re hot. I’m trying to start the damn car.” “Stop fiddling with them, then.” Mark glanced around nervously. “Hurry up.” “I have to fiddle with them … twist them together to start the … there…” The motor roared to life. Dane slammed his foot on the gas and backed up. Suddenly a shot whizzed through the windshield. “Shit!” Mark yelled out. Dane reached over and pushed his head down. “Stay down.” He pulled the wheel to the left, then to the right, careening backward down the road. Mark was sure they were going into the ditch. They were still driving backwards at breakneck speed, twisting from side to side when suddenly the road widened. Dane jerked the car around in the other direction and managed to keep it on the road. “Oh my God,” Mark gasped. “I can’t breathe.” Dane kept his eyes on the road. “They’ll be right behind us. Just keep your head low.” “Oh my God, I’m a fugitive. You’ve made me a fugitive.” “You’re not a fugitive. You’re a kidnapper, remember?” “I’m not a kidnapper! We’ve got to go to the police.” “We can’t go to the police. Not yet.” “Oh, that’s right,” Mark sneered, “you’re a thief, a criminal, even worse than Hawkins.” “And what are you and your brother, good fairies?”

“Cute.” “Thank you. You’re pretty cute yourself.” “Not you. Look, my brother has had a few problems but—” “That’s Frankie Merchant. I should have recognized him. You’re Timothy Merchant’s son.” “What do you know about it?” “Small-time hoods, both of them. Your dad was up in the pen for fraud and—” “Okay, okay. Frankie promised me he’d go straight.” “Once a criminal, always a criminal.” “Guess there’s no hope for you then. Oh shit.” Mark glanced behind him. “They’re coming.” “Put your seat belt on.” “What?” “Seat belt. Put on your seat belt.” Dane began to accelerate. Mark closed his eyes. “Can you use a gun?” “Gun? No. No gun. I’m not shooting anyone.” “I can’t drive and shoot at the same time.” “Shoot? You’re not going to shoot anyone, are you?” “Do you want to live?” “Yes, I…” “Then take the wheel,” Dane urged, picking up the gun by his side. “What?” “Put your foot on the gas and grab the wheel,” he shouted, putting his head out the window and aiming the gun. Mark grabbed the wheel, slamming his foot down on the gas pedal. He was trying to keep the car on the road. Dane let off a shot. “Go from left to right.” “What?” Mark gasped. “Left to right … from one side to the…” He shot again. Another shot came back. Mark turned the wheel a little. “I got the front tire. Let me have the wheel,” he said, settling back down into the seat. Mark collapsed into the passenger seat, his heart slamming in his chest. “Are they still following?” “They’re way behind us. The flat will slow them down. I need to find Charlie.” “Who’s Charlie?” “My partner in crime,” he grinned. “I have to get that merchandise.” “Good. You get your merchandise. I’m going home. Just let me off somewhere … anywhere, at the next…” “Can’t do that.” He shook his head. “What do you mean, you can’t do that? I have to call the police, try and save Frankie.” “Frankie will be all right as long as he pays Hawkins.” “I need to call the police.” “If you do that, your brother will go to jail.” Mark sighed. “Shit.”

“Yeah. It’s shit all right, and if you hadn’t of kidnapped me, none of this would have happened. Look, I’ll find Charlie and I’ll make a deal with Hawkins. We’ll get Frankie back.” “Why should I trust you?” “You don’t have a choice, do you?” He looked at him. “Besides, your life is in danger right now. I’m the best chance you got.” “Great. Do you have any idea where this Charlie guy is?” “I have a gut feeling he’s—” “Gut feeling? We can’t go on your gut.” “Just let me worry about that, will ya? Now, please, just be quiet, let me think.”

Chapter Four It seemed they had been driving for hours. Mark closed his eyes at one point and when he opened them again, it was dark. “Where in the hell are we?” He sat up and looked around. “About halfway to Boston.” “Boston? Why in the hell are we going to Boston?” “Because that’s where Charlie was heading, and if I don’t find him, I can’t finish what I need to finish.” “You’re going to kill him, aren’t you?” “No.” “What then? What is this merchandise you’re after, and what does Hawkins want with it? He’s a mobster, isn’t he?” “There you go with the questions again. Are you sure you’re a vet?” “Yes, damn it, I’m a vet. I can’t believe that the guy who got my sister pregnant is a mobster.” “Why not? Your family are hoods.” “If you weren’t driving, I’d punch you.” “Oooh, I’m really scared.” He made a face. “And he’s not a mobster really, he’s just a wannabe mobster, buying up illegal goods and selling them on the black market.” “What kind of goods?” “Guns, drugs.” “And don’t you feel guilty doing that stuff?” “No.” “You have no conscience.” Dane laughed. “And by the way, I don’t want to go to Boston. I never wanted to be involved in any of this.” “That’s too bad. It’s a little late now.” “Why do I have to go along again?” “Maybe I’d miss your company.” “Try again.” “You could be in danger.” “Yeah, right. You’re afraid I’ll blab. That’s the real reason.” “That too. We have to stop.” “Good, I got to pee.” “Not for that. To sleep. I’m beat. I haven’t slept in two nights. I can’t drive the whole way.” “I’ll drive, you sleep.” “No way. I don’t trust you. Besides, you don’t know the way. There’s a little hotel up here on the highway, about ten miles, we’ll stop there.” “I’m not going to any hotel room with you.” “Don’t worry, Pollyanna, your virtue is safe with me.” “Pollyanna?”

“Forget it. I haven’t got the energy to fuck anyway. I need to sleep.” “And what’s to say I won’t try to get away while you’re sleeping?” “Don’t worry. I’ll take care of that.” Mark regretted saying anything. As soon as they got into the room, and he came out of the bathroom, Dane told him to lie down on the bed. “I’ll sleep on the floor.” “No, you’ll sleep beside me in the bed. Lie down on the bed and put your wrists over your head.” “What?” “I’m going to tie your wrists to the bed so you can’t get away.” “A little extreme, isn’t it?” “Either that, or you give me a big, juicy kiss.” He gave him a meaningful look. Mark lay down on the bed and lifted up his hands. “That never worked for me before.” He smirked. “I must be losing my charm.” “Are you sure you ever had any?” “Very nasty,” Dane said, shaking his head. He took the cords off the curtains and tied them around his wrists. He paused for a moment. “I am sorry about this. I don’t have a choice. I can’t risk blowing this. Anyway, consider it poetic justice. You did tie me to the bed. Sleep tight. It will be over soon, I promise.” Mark gave him a dirty look. “Kiss my ass.” “I’d love to”—he grinned—“but I told you, I’m too tired, and besides, you wouldn’t let me. I’d have to add rape to my long list of supposed crimes.” “If you try anything…” Mark threatened. “You’ll preach me to death?” Mark felt the weight of Dane’s body as he got into bed. How in the hell had he ended up in this situation? This man wasn’t even the man who’d gotten Julie pregnant. He was worse. He was some thief who was chasing another crook with some stolen goods, and Frankie was caught in the middle of it. His brother had lied to him. He had sworn to him that he’d gone straight. All the while, he was involved in this smuggling operation. Did that mean he knew all along that Dane wasn’t Hawkins? Mark turned his head and glanced at the man lying beside him. He was deeply asleep, his clothes on the floor, a blanket covering his lower limbs. Handsome. Oh yes, he was handsome, gorgeous really, and gay. The only problem was his profession. Damn it, was he destined to fall in love with someone exactly like his brother and father? He’d been fighting to be his own person all of his life, to stay the distance. Anyway, there was no danger of that. Dane didn’t even like him, and Mark certainly didn’t like him, did he? Suddenly, Dane groaned and rolled towards him onto his side. His arm slid around him and he snuggled up close. Mark tried to nudge him off with his body, but to no avail. “Bloody hell,” Mark muttered. There was no budging him. It looked like he had settled in for the long haul. Eventually exhaustion overtook him and he fell off to sleep. **** When he opened his eyes, Dane was perched on his elbow, looking down at him. “Damn it, what do you want? Do you know what it’s like to have to look at your ugly face first thing in the morning?”

Dane smiled. “I think you might like it.” “Hah! You’re full of yourself.” “I have to be, I suppose.” He laughed. “Now, should I undo your wrists or…” “Please. I’d like to pee.” “In that case…” He reached up and undid the ties. Mark lowered his hands and rubbed his wrists. “You’re an animal.” “Well, then, you should know just how to deal with me.” “Put you down.” “Cruel, cruel, vet.” He shook his head, and stood up Mark sat up, suddenly realizing that Dane was standing there stark naked. “Where are your…?” “All I have are my pants and they’re hanging on the chair. We’ll stop somewhere for clothes today.” Mark tore his eyes away as Dane put on his jeans. “You slept naked beside me.” “Yep. See, you missed your opportunity.” “I couldn’t do much with my hands tied.” “Next time I’ll leave one free.” “Yeah, well, I wouldn’t … you know.” “No, I don’t know.” He grinned. “Tell me.” “Fuck off, okay?” He laughed. “Okay. I’m hungry, Doc. Let’s eat.” “I don’t have my wallet. I left it…” “I have money. While you were snoozing, I stopped and got some.” “You stole it?” Mark went to splash water on his face. “No,” he replied. “Honest work, okay, Mr. Moral?” “I should take a shower.” “Go ahead. But hurry up.” Mark went into the bathroom. “This door doesn’t lock.” “Relax. I won’t come in.” Mark turned on the shower and pulled off his clothes. He got under the spray, pulled the see-through curtain across, and rinsed. There was no soap and no shampoo. “Hey, last of the big spenders,” he muttered, “there’s not any soap or—” “Here you go,” a voice said, handing him one of those little bars. “Hey, you’re not supposed to…” Mark stiffened. “I have my eyes closed.” “You do not.” “No, I do not.” Dane laughed. “In fact,” he opened up the curtain and grinned at Mark, “I’m not so tired today.” “What in hell does that mean?” Mark backed up against the tile, his heart pounding in his chest. Dane unzipped his jeans and took them down. Mark swallowed. “What are you…?” “I think you know,” he said, stepping into the shower. He pulled Mark up against him. “You don’t really like me, and hell, I really don’t like you either, but you’re certainly cute.” He grinned. “And I think you have a weakness for bad boys, Doc.” His arms tightened around Mark’s waist. “Kiss me. And if you don’t like it, I’ll leave you

alone. Fair?” Fair? Nothing about this situation was fair. To have this big, handsome, muscular, naked hunk pressing him against the cool tiles, ordering him to tell him if he liked his kisses or not was unfair as hell! Dane’s mouth came down on his hard, tongue darting in between his teeth, engaging his own in a wicked dance. Mark’s hands came up and moved over the smooth muscles of his back and his biceps. God, he was such a hunk. The kiss deepened. He could feel his cock stiffen and brush against Dane’s erection. Suddenly, Dane released him. He pushed some of his wet hair back off his forehead. Mark was a little stunned. He let his gaze run the length of him, then settled back on his face. “So, what’s the verdict?” He smiled. “Verdict?” He was in a daze. “What verdict?” He licked his lip. “Fuck the verdict!” He grabbed him by the shoulders and pressed Dane against the tiles. He kissed him again, hard, one hand on his chest, the other reaching down between his thighs to fondle his erection. Mark’s mouth moved down Dane’s jaw to his chest. Dane murmured, “I guess you liked it.” Mark let his tongue move over one of Dane’s nipples. He circled it, laved it, nibbled it a little, while he stroked his cock. Dane placed a hand on Mark’s ass, fingers curving into his crevice, finding his entrance. Mark moaned a little as Dane’s finger found its way up inside of him. He pushed his finger in and out of him until Mark begged for mercy. Dane smiled at him. “Come on,” he said, turning off the shower. He took Mark’s hand and led him to the bed. Without warning, he took Mark by the shoulders and pushed him onto the bed, face first. He grabbed his hips and lifted them, spreading Mark’s ass cheeks, then he replaced his fingers with his tongue. Mark gasped. No one had ever rimmed him before. The things this man was doing with his tongue were not to be described. Mark cried out. Dane flipped him over and pinned his arms above his head. He kissed him hotly, licking down the length of his chest. Mark left his arms in place, allowing Dane to lick and taste him. When he took his cock into his mouth, Mark had all he could do not to come. He held on as long as he could, and just when he got to the brink, Dane rolled a condom onto his cock. “Hey,” Mark gasped, “where in hell did you get that?” “I told you I made a stop.” “And you assumed that…?” “Shut up, will ya?” Dane grinned as he began to ease his cock inside of him. Mark closed his eyes, licking his lips, feeling the sensation of being truly fucked, at first gentle, then Dane let out all the stops. Mark felt his teeth rattle in his head, his cock shooting in the air. It was like the goddamned Fourth of July. Dane smiled down at him, lowering Mark’s legs. Mark reached up and touched his face. What a beautiful face, none of that arrogance apparent now, just a sweet, almost humble smile. Who was this beautiful stranger? No. Suddenly he didn’t even want to know. All he could do was stare up at him with wonder, his entire body aching to have him inside of him again.

Mark caressed his hair, his gaze settling on his mouth. He wanted to kiss him. Dane moved down on top of him, his breathing somewhat labored. His chest was wet with sweat. “Um,” he murmured. “That was good. That was so damn good.” Mark closed his eyes. “No argument from me,” he whispered, letting his hands move over Dane’s back and down to his ass. “You have an incredible body.” “You too,” he replied. “Great ass.” Mark laughed a little, holding him closer. Dane met his gaze. And as if he read his mind, he gently kissed his mouth. Mark’s heartbeat sped up. Dane kissed him again, the kiss a little deeper, more passionate, and Mark rolled him over on the bed. He looked down at him and smiled. “I think I like this.” “Good, want to do it again?” He raised an eyebrow. Mark laughed and then he nodded. They made love quite frantically, and then slept for a little while.

Chapter Five Dane shook him awake a few hours later. “We have to go,” he said. “It’s almost noon. I didn’t expect to…” Mark felt a little embarrassed all of a sudden. Oh God, what had he done? He jumped off the bed. “Yes, well, let’s go.” “I’m hungry,” Dane said. A few minutes later, they were out the door. Mark didn’t say anything until they reached the diner on the side of the road. They quietly ordered breakfast, and Dane sipped his coffee. Mark stared out the window. It had started to rain. He wasn’t sure where in the hell they’d end up. He glanced over at Dane. God, being with him like that had been incredible. But he couldn’t lose his head. This man was a criminal. He’d spent his entire life trying to stay clear of these types of people. He couldn’t let anything like that happen again. In the car, he said, “I need to call my practise.” “You’ll be back soon.” “Dane. We need to discuss what happened. It can’t happen again. It was a one-time thing.” “Technically, it was twice, but okay,” he said, turning on the windshield wipers. “Okay? That’s it?” “What do you want me to say, Mark? You don’t want it to happen again? If you say no, well, I can’t very well fuck myself, although you might tell me to do that.” Mark tried not to laugh. “You know what I mean. Aren’t you going to protest?” “Do you want me to?” He glanced at him. “Yes, God damn it.” “So you can tell me to screw off? You’re weird.” “It didn’t mean shit to you.” “What did it mean to you?” “Ah … nothing.” “There you go,” he said. “So, let’s not talk about it.” “Suits me. Where in hell are we going?” “I told you, to find Charlie. If I find Charlie, I’ll let you go.” “In Boston?” “No, I’ll take you home.” “What a fucking gentleman. Then you’ll get arrested.” “I’m not going to get arrested.” “You’re going to run then?” “I’m not going to run either.” “You’ve committed a crime.” “No, I haven’t.” He looked at him. “Mark, I’m a cop.” Mark looked at him as if he’d lost his mind. “A cop? Is this your newest delusion?” “It’s not a delusion. I was working undercover when you grabbed me. I was this close to solving a crime, but you scared Hawkins off. I didn’t get your sister’s boyfriend.

So, he got your brother, and you got me.” Mark blinked. “Undercover?” “You got it.” Mark laughed. “You don’t believe me, do you?” “Look, there’s a hell of a lot of guys who walk around thinking they’re cops. It’s a real problem.” Dane shook his head. “Mark! Can you please believe me one fucking time? I told you I wasn’t that Hawkins guy. Am I Hawkins?” “No. Okay, I made a mistake, but Hawkins accused you of stealing stuff and—” “Yes, because I’m undercover.” He sighed. “How can I make you believe me?” “Okay, what’s a police officer’s oath?” “This is ridiculous. To serve and protect.” “You can read that off of any police car.” “I’ll stop the car right now. Call my mother.” “Your mother?” “I do have a mother.” “It could be a setup. You could have a fake mother.” “Jesus, Mark.” He glared at him. “Give me a break. I’ve never gone that far to get a fuck before.” “So”—Mark gave him a suspicious look—“why are you holding on to me? Why can’t I just go home?” “You could be in danger. What if Frankie didn’t pay up and Hawkins came after you? I was protecting you. When we get to Boston, I’ll get you home. Then I’ll find Charlie, and see if I can salvage this case.” “Then that means you might not be a criminal? That’s good.” Dane looked at him. “‘Might not be’? Anyway, does that mean you might like me a little?” Mark laughed. He reached over and placed a hand on his. “Yeah. That means I might like you a little.” Dane grinned. Mark removed his hand. He fell asleep before they reached Boston. When he woke up, they were surrounded by cop cars. Dane was standing outside the car, talking to the police. Mark got out of the car. Dane walked over to him. “They’ll take care of you,” he said, indicating the police cars. “They’ll make sure you get home.” Mark followed. “You are a cop.” “Yep.” “My brother?” “He’s being held for questioning in New York. He’ll be all right. They’re going to pick up Hawkins now.” Mark reached out and clutched his arm. “And what about you?” “I’m going after Charlie.” “Be careful.” Dane smiled at him and walked away. It dawned on Mark a few minutes after Dane

had disappeared from his view that he hadn’t asked him if he’d ever see him again. **** A week later, things had pretty much returned to normal, as much as things could be normal in his crazy family. Mark was back at his clinic. Hawkins’ restaurant was up for sale, and Christopher Hawkins was awaiting trial. Frankie was scheduled to be a key witness for the prosecution. On the third Sunday of the month, two weeks later, Mark went to his parents’ house, as usual. Julie met him at the front door. “Hey, bro,” she said. “How are you, Julie? How’s everyone?” he asked. He wasn’t sure he wanted to know. He missed Dane. He found himself thinking about him all the time. Was he safe? Would he ever see him again? “It’s tense, what with Frankie in trouble again,” Julie said. “He was lucky this time. How do you feel about Christopher and what happened?” “He was no good.” She shrugged. “Oh, and by the way, no baby,” she mouthed. “No baby?” “It was false, the results. I took another test and … I got my period.” Mark didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. All of this, for nothing. At that moment, his mother came into the hallway and hugged him. “Come, there’s lots of food,” she said. Wasn’t there always lots of food? Frankie was quiet throughout the meal. His father talked about the ball game, and mother was just mother, going on about the neighbors and how they could use a good doctor. At seven o’clock, he was back in his empty apartment across town and glad to be there. He had a dream about Dane, that he was kissing him. He woke up with the taste of him on his mouth. **** First thing Monday morning, he had an emergency, a dog with a broken leg, and a cat who’d slugged it out with a raccoon. He was ready to call it a day by three when his receptionist popped her head in the door of his examining room. “Got room for one more?” “Is it an emergency?” “I … well, I don’t know. He doesn’t have an animal. Says he needs to see you.” “He?” “Oh, definitely a he,” she smiled, then waved her hand in front of her face like a fan, “gorgeous.” “Ah, okay, send him in.” Dare he hope? Dane definitely fit the definition of gorgeous. He held his breath until the door opened. Dane smiled at him. “Hi, Doc,” he said, walking in. Mark swallowed. He’d missed him so much. “Hello.” He cleared his throat. “What can I do for you?” “Oh, lots of things.” He grinned. “Do you have an animal with you?” He tried not to look too enthusiastic, but he couldn’t stop smiling.

“I’m thinking about getting one. Will I be able to book regular appointments with you if I get a … let’s say, a goldfish?” He raised an eyebrow. Mark laughed. “Well, I don’t usually do goldfish.” “What about lonely cops with a name that sounds like a dog’s?” He closed the door behind him and moved closer. “Maybe. What’s your name again?” He held out his hand. “Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Dane, Dane Fitzgerald. You spell that D-a-n-e.” “Mark Merchant.” He took his hand and as he did, Dane pulled him forward. “I want to kiss you, Doc Merchant. Is that allowed in here?” “Definitely, Detective,” Mark murmured against his mouth. Dane drew him closer, kissed him tenderly, then released him. “What? Why’d you stop?” Mark asked. “I’ll be back,” he said coyly. “I’ve got to go and buy that goldfish.” Mark pulled Dane back into his arms, running his hands over his delicious biceps. “Plenty of time for goldfish later; right now, I’m in desperate need of a cop.” “You did break the law a while back,” he mused. Mark pulled closer. “You’re right. I do need to pay for my crime. Let’s get out of here, shall we? You can punish me.” “What do you have in mind?” “How about the cabin? I have fond memories of being up there with you half naked.” “Are you going to tie me up again?” Dane kissed his forehead and gazed deep into his eyes. “Definitely.” Dane backed away, fished in the pocket of his jeans, and threw him the keys. “This time, baby,” he said with a wink, “you drive.” The End About the Author: D.J. Manly is first and foremost a writer, but is also a college professor, a small business operator, and a sociologist who works as a consultant on research projects. D.J. is a proud Canadian who lives in French Canada, and is fluent in both English and French. Human rights are a great concern, and D.J. longs for a peaceful world free of sexism, racism, and homophobia. D.J. writes for the pure love of writing, and always with the reader in mind. If D.J. doesn't enjoy reading it, it won't be written. Great characters, great sex, and a great love are the elements you'll find in D.J's work. There is nothing quite as exciting as beautiful men falling in love. Come taste D.J's work, but be careful—you may become as addicted to reading it as D.J. is to writing it. One reviewer wrote that reading D.J. can give you "third degree burns in an air conditioned room." That says it all. E-mail D.J. any time with questions or comments. Visit D.J. online at www.djmanly.com

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