Promise of the Heart

Promise of the Heart ♥ Chrissy Munder

I

JACOB woke slowly, sifting through the floating layers of his dreams for the cause. Hot. He was too hot. Sweat rolled along his neck, pooling in the hollow of his throat and then spilling over the curve of his shoulder toward his bare back. His legs shifted and kicked out in his search to toss off the cause of his discomfort. The body above Jacob covered him, warm and heavy like a comforter without the down. The muscular weight pressed him deeper into the firm mattress even as Alan’s familiar cologne surrounded his senses. One lean thigh slid between his, the brush of short and soft hair instantly arousing. Despite his closed eyes, Jacob smiled his appreciation at his lover’s aggressive touch as Alan’s hand tightened with remembered strength on his cock. “Wakey, wakey.” Alan’s singsong voice was in his ear, a whisper of hot breath against his neck; Jacob’s morning suddenly sparkled with possibilities. Oh yeah. Jacob grunted and let his legs fall open on the crisp sheets. Alan began humming his favorite pop song. Jacob’s smile widened at the vibration and the tickle of the

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resonating buzz. Alan kissed his way slowly across Jacob’s chest and down his stomach, all the while his hand stroked Jacob with a languid and rhythmic motion. Jacob’s belly tightened with approval at Alan’s coordination. Goose bumps raised the fine hair on his skin as his nerves tingled. Alan’s lips paused in their deliberate purposeful path long enough for him to wiggle his tongue playfully into Jacob’s belly button. “Is this for me?” Alan gave Jacob’s cock a gentle, questioning shake. Jacob was already hard. He had been dozing, drifting and dreaming about the welcoming heat of Alan’s mouth. Now that Jacob could anticipate the reality, his morning wood hardened into pure steel. Jacob didn’t have to open his gray eyes to see Alan poised above him. Long hours spent memorizing his lover’s face let him picture the familiar lines in his sleep or any other time he pulled it to the front of his mind’s eye. Jacob’s camera loved the sharp angles of Alan’s cheekbones, the strong line of his jaw. And what his camera loved, Jacob loved. Repetition had its merits. Early on Jacob had learned the way the overly long strands of blond hair fell and covered Alan’s forehead, shielding his soft green eyes. The way Alan’s full mouth curved, sensuous and wanting. The way he treated Jacob’s body as his private playground. Each moment shared a starring role in Jacob’s fantasies.

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Temptation beckoned, urging Jacob to reach out to Alan in return, but Jacob raised his arms up and over until he pillowed them under his head. Alan would be getting to his favorite part soon enough, and he loved nothing more than to drag the moment out even longer when Jacob interrupted. All Jacob had to do was show a little patience, and he would be rewarded. “Do you have any idea what a smug bastard you look like when you do that?” Alan’s voice muffled against Jacob’s hipbone as he teased his lips along the defined muscles. Jacob’s cock twitched again, bobbing with eager expectation. Not long now, Jacob hoped. “Tell me,” Jacob demanded in a rough undertone. He could hear the steady drone of the refrigerator from the kitchen and smell the fabric softener on the cotton sheet beneath him. Jacob struggled to center his thoughts on these little details. Anything to keep himself in check. He was hungry for Alan and craved a less mischievous caress. He lacked the patience to play their usual game. “Such.” Alan’s tongue licked along the side of Jacob’s cock, and Jacob couldn’t help the instinctive movement of his hips at the moist caress. “A.” This time Alan’s tongue veered frustratingly close to the drops of clear liquid at the swollen tip. Appreciating the value of torture, Alan traced the outline against Jacob’s stomach with one gentle finger. “Smug.” Jacob groaned, his anticipation. “Bastard.”

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Right then Alan’s mouth closed down over Jacob’s cock. Hot and wet, the closest thing to perfection Jacob had ever known. God. He loved the way Alan sucked his cock. “Love you.” Jacob couldn’t help but groan again. He started babbling, words spilling out of his mouth in no particular order, but then he usually did when Alan worked him like this. “I love your mouth. You can do things with that mouth I never imagined.” Jacob shifted, his back arching as he tried to lift himself higher into the hot suction of Alan’s saliva-slicked lips. “Suck me,” Jacob pleaded as want took him past pride without a second glance. Alan grunted and forced Jacob back down onto the bed. His ragged breath Jacob’s only clue, Alan echoed the effect he had on his lover. Jacob trembled as Alan’s fingers dug into his hip, and his thighs tightened. Close. So goddamn close. The phone rang, a shrill, unwelcome interruption to the moment. Jacob blinked as his head turned to discover the origin of the insistent noise. Denial swiftly followed awareness. He didn’t want to leave his reverie. Jacob hated to wake alone in his empty bed with Alan nothing more than a fading memory in his dream of a dream. But the persistent ring refused to give up. Accepting the inevitable Jacob reached out to his nightstand and picked up his cell phone. “Wynn,” he grunted. His dark head fell

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back against the pillow, one arm flung over his eyes to keep reality at bay for a little longer. “’Bout time you answered.” Jacob recognized the caller. Harry Osborn might be his closest friend, but their relationship didn’t help as emptiness and loss filled his gut. The last remnants of Alan slipped away. “What do you want, Harry?” His voice echoed the tiredness within. “Is that any way to talk to me?” Harry sounded too damn cheerful for Jacob’s sour mood. “Here I am calling with the opportunity of a lifetime.” “What do you want, Harry?” Jacob repeated. Better to get this over with. Harry wouldn’t leave him in peace until Jacob heard him out. “I’m hoping you’ll take a job for me. It looks like the grandbaby is finally going to make an appearance this weekend.” Harry kept talking, his words falling into the space left by Jacob’s stunned silence. “Come on, Jacob. You know Anna will have my head if I miss this one.” “Hell, Harry.” Jacob rolled over onto his side, the better to ignore his stiff leg. Too bad he couldn’t do anything to stop the memories that flooded back along with full consciousness. “You don’t want me, any hack would do.” “I don’t need any hack,” Harry protested. “I need Jacob Wynn. This is an important client.” His voice lowered in an

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effort to be cajoling. “You know I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t have to.” Jacob stared at the blank, white wall before him and tried to concentrate on a likeness of Alan’s face once again. Anything other than Harry’s pushing. “I didn’t mean that. I’m sorry.” “It’ll be like riding a bike, Jacob.” Smelling weakness, Harry played his trump card. “You owe me.” “Just blackmail me, why don’t you?” Jacob said. He mentally acknowledged the truth of Harry’s claim. Jacob did owe him. He could never repay Harry and Anna for their unquestioning support during the long months of rehab following the accident. “Whatever it takes.” Harry managed to sound gracious in his victory. “But it’ll do you good to hold a camera again.” “I’ve held the damn things,” Jacob replied bitterly. “I’ve just not been able to do anything else with them.” “No time like the present. Remember, any hack can do this.” Jacob flinched as Harry tossed his own words back at him. They held a bitter tang, the same as the stale and sweat-stained sheets beneath him. Jacob longed for the freshness of his dreams. “With you as my friend, I don’t need any enemies.” Jacob sounded harsh, but he didn’t want to cave too easy. Deep down Jacob knew Harry was right. He had hidden long enough; the time had come to put the past behind him.

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Like always, Harry understood and didn’t take offense. “I’ll have Ray give you a call later and send over my notes. Remember, it’s my reputation on the line here, not yours.” “Yeah, yeah.” Jacob rubbed at his forehead. Did Harry think knowing that would make him feel better? How had he let himself be talked into this? “Good luck with the family, and be sure you tell Anna hello for me.” “You know it. The Osborn dynasty continues.” Jacob couldn’t miss the pride in Harry’s voice, and he briefly let himself feel the sting of his own loneliness. But he had made this mess, Jacob thought as he placed the cell phone back down on the nightstand and settled back in his empty apartment. Now he just had to live with it.

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II

THE bench outside the expensive hotel offered welcome rest. Jacob sank onto it with a muttered curse and rubbed at his stiff leg. The damn thing better not let him down today. Part of his rehab had involved rebuilding the strength in his broken limbs, but even after two years Jacob had yet to regain his full mobility. A young, well-to-do couple couldn’t ask for a more perfect location for their special day than this, and Jacob soaked up the atmosphere with appreciation. A tasteful mix of gleaming marble and quiet, understated elegance surrounded him. Jacob admired the fountain in the center of the main drive as he made a mental note to get some shots of the limousines lined up around the curve. Despite his determined attempts at denial, the vision in his head insisted on sharing. Whispering to him how if he angled it, the balance would keep the focus on the foreground and the drops of water sparkling in the sun. Softer focus on the background and the gleaming automobiles completed the composition. Jacob’s brain kept busy cataloguing which lens to use, what exposure would work best to bring the mental image to life. Damn Harry for being right once again.

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Jacob checked his watch for the second time in the past five minutes. Thirty still to go before the actual assignment started. Lucky for him he didn’t have to change locations or worry about running from the bride’s house to the groom’s and then rushing to the church and reception hall. Jacob brushed his dark hair away from his still too-thin face and stared down at the open folder on his lap. Thorough as always, Harry left nothing to chance. Everything from the initial contract with the happy couple to their expectations filled the typed pages. It helped lessen the hindrance of being a fill-in and not having had time to develop any kind of rapport with the clients. Jacob appreciated the way the required shots were clearly spelled out, as were the other details of the shoot Harry had outlined for the couple. Jacob fixed his attention on the groom’s last name and then shrugged. He didn’t have time to figure out why it seemed familiar. Harry had made his usual preliminary trip to the wedding’s location. He had earmarked several prime locations and sketched out shots. There were even notes on the couple, their likes and dislikes, and Harry had highlighted a few little personality quirks as well. Those always translated into more interesting and exciting photos. The itch at the back of Jacob’s skull intensified as the longsuppressed urge to create broke free. A true professional, Harry deserved his reputation as one of the area’s premier wedding photographers. Most people didn’t grasp the scope involved in a successful

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wedding shoot. If everything went right, they never would. Only when things went wrong did the client catch a glimpse of the intense planning. Jacob rubbed at his leg again, hoping he wouldn’t let Harry down. The last time he had attempted to pick up a camera, he hadn’t been able to look through the viewfinder, much less press the shutter release. Every time he tried, the memory of his last professional shoot crowded his mind. “Hi, Mr. Wynn.” The blond spikes of Ray Turnbull, Harry’s assistant, popped into Jacob’s view and interrupted his thoughts. “I’ve finished checking through all the equipment. Where do you want to start?” Ray’s blue eyes blinked nervously behind their round, wire-framed glasses. Like Jacob, his clothing reflected a casual yet professional appearance. The dark color of his accessory vest matched his sharply pressed slacks. Jacob had only met him a few times before, but he knew Harry wouldn’t put up with a slacker. “Call me Jacob, please,” Jacob replied automatically as he struggled to keep his thoughts from returning to the spectacular failure of that last shoot. Jacob frowned; he was haunted despite his efforts by the memory of how everything had gone wrong. He couldn’t forget the screaming match between himself and Marco, his model that day, and in a major example of his prior stupidity, briefly something more. Damn it. Jacob

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swore to himself. He owed Harry, and he refused to let his demons screw up this job. “Let’s go look at the gear.” Like the rest of his life, Jacob’s photography equipment stayed dormant and gathering dust in storage. Someday he would go back to New York and deal with it. Eager once Jacob had conceded, Harry offered up his own gear for Jacob’s use. Jacob had no choice but to agree. Ray had set the trunks up in a small room off the main ballroom where the wedding and reception would be held. Jacob reached in and picked up one of the cameras from the trunk. As he did for Harry, Ray had them ready for use. Each was a slightly different model, and Harry had marked which one he favored in various settings, and with what lens, along with a couple that were extra just in case. Jacob approved of Harry’s caution. He preferred to have excess equipment on a shoot. He hated to need something and not have it available. Far easier to have excess equipment he didn’t use. He cradled the camera in his hand and manipulated the controls with care. A nice piece. Harry liked using Canons. It was a fullframe unit with a relatively compact body. Jacob thought it felt a little chunky compared to the Nikons he had used almost exclusively in the past, but he’d had an endorsement contract back then. Jacob examined the settings and poked around the lens assortment in the trunk. The flash units and diffusers were all in another trunk as were the portable tripods and

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expandable reflectors that would come into play later. “I see you have all the units set for JPEG mode.” Jacob commented softly. “If you’d change them all to RAW, I’d appreciate it.” “But Mr. Osborn—” Ray broke off as he remembered Jacob’s experience. Ray fidgeted, his feet restless with the words he held back. “I understand.” Jacob kept his tone mild as he explained his request. He needed to rely on Ray for help today, and the prima donna attitude he once carried hadn’t won him any favors in the long run anyway. “But while a JPEG has a smaller file size and we won’t go through as many memory cards, the compression lowers the image quality. I prefer to shoot RAW. We can then do some postexposure processing.” Harry hadn’t said if Jacob would be involved in the actual processing of today’s shoot, but it was better not to take any chances. “Oh.” Ray looked surprised. Based on his silence, Jacob was sure that Ray never expected Jacob to explain his request. “Well, I don’t know if you’ve used the Canons before, but we can actually store a JPEG image along with the RAW file. That may save you some time later.” Ray became more agreeable, dropping the challenging attitude he had shown so far. “Fantastic.” Jacob smiled at Ray with genuine pleasure, unaware of how the expression lifted the shadows from his face and made his dark blue eyes sparkle. Jacob watched, surprised as Ray started hustling with more enthusiasm than he had shown so far.

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Jacob checked the time again; they still had some to spare before the two of them were due in the bride’s room. “Let’s get some shots of the tables and reception area. I’d like to get a feel for the units.” “Sure… Jacob.” This time Ray smiled tentatively back. It pleased Jacob that Ray had relaxed enough to use his name. All this Mr. Wynn stuff was making him feel old. “I just want you to know what an honor this is for me today. To work with you, I mean. I followed your career right up to the accident. I’m really glad you’re okay.” Jacob froze at the rush of words, overwhelmed by memories. The screech of metal, the sound of glass as it shattered into shards of crystal, the pain. He forced himself to smile politely despite the sudden pounding of his heart. Okay? Ray couldn’t be more wrong. “Thank you, Ray. But let’s just concentrate on today.” Ray nodded, eager to contribute. “Sure. The main reception area is through here. There’s a seating arrangement right before that, with a fireplace I’m thinking we might be able to use for some of the group shots. I mean, if you think that’s all right.” Ray flushed and tugged at the collar of his striped, buttoned-to-the-neck dress shirt. “I’m sure it will be fine, Ray.” Jacob took a deep breath. He had learned how to walk again. He had learned to face and live with his mistakes. Hell, he had learned how to live without Alan. He could do this. “Lead on.”

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III

“THAT will do nicely, ladies.” Jacob forced a professional smile to his face as he and Ray picked up the rest of their equipment and prepared to exit the bride’s hotel room. “I appreciate your patience with us during such a stressful time.” “Thank you, Mr. Wynn.” The bride’s mother clutched at his hand again. Jacob struggled to hide his distaste at her possessive grasp. “I can’t tell you what an honor it is to have to you as the photographer today. We were quite upset when we heard Mr. Osborn wouldn’t be able to fulfill his obligation, but I have to tell you that the privilege of having you take the photographs of our Amanda—well, I just don’t know what to say.” “She’s a lovely girl.” Jacob knew the smile pasted on his face appeared stiff, but if the woman didn’t stop gushing over him, he would say something both he and Harry would regret later. “You must be very proud.” Jacob wasn’t being polite. Young Amanda did look lovely, and the camera found her easy to photograph. It had made the difficult moment surprisingly simple. Of course, the task of photographing Amanda getting dressed in her

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bridal finery was a far cry from the raucous shoots he was used to. Those days had been full of overpaid and underfed fashion models. Instead of music blaring and gaunt figures that swayed in a faked mimicry of violence, here instead flowed a quiet and pleasing intimacy that had allowed Jacob to relax and feel at ease. Jacob once again mentally blessed Harry for his notes. They had given him enough insight into Amanda to find some poses that expressed more of her individual personality. He had made sure to get all the standards first, of course. No wedding album could be considered complete without photographs of the bride’s dress hanging on the back of the door, the bouquet resting on a side table, and her shoes wrapped in their colorful tissue paper. Jacob had also captured Amanda’s friends as they bustled about to finish her hair and makeup. But sweet little Amanda had a wicked edge to her and wanted something more. Ray had kept her mother occupied while Jacob utilized the baroque mirror in the dressing room and Amanda’s surprisingly erotic undergarments to take some shots that he was sure the groom would appreciate later. Jacob’s hands had trembled at first. He couldn’t deny it. Down in the reception hall where there hadn’t even been any

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people, just the gleaming table settings and candles, Jacob feared he would fail once again. He couldn’t manage to see the refined elegance of the hotel furnishings. Instead Marco filled the viewfinder every time he brought the camera up to his face. He relived again and again the screaming match that had been their last terrible fight. He saw the way Marco had destroyed the set, ending the shoot, and finally, Marco’s face covered with blood as he died just a few feet from where the crash of their vehicles had left Jacob trapped and helpless in his car. How amusing the fashion world would find it if the great Jacob Wynn couldn’t even manage a basic wedding shoot. But he refused to embarrass Harry. With experimentation Jacob found that he could look through the lens and focus on the smaller details instead of the entire image. The small measure of triumph at his ability to press the release and take the shot surprised him. Once the mechanics were past him Jacob’s years of experience took him the rest of the way. Every creative instinct still lingered, and coupled with his technical skills, it made the process of posing Amanda and her friends to highlight their best assets effortless. Jacob had even managed to catch some candid shots of the mother-of-the-bride that he thought would be a big hit. His favorites were the ones where he had snapped her sneaking sips off the whiskey sour she had hidden behind the empty pieces of luggage.

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“Are we ready for the groom?” he asked Ray once the door to the bridal suite closed. “Sure you don’t want a drink first?” Ray had laughed; a positive sign he had finally loosened up. Jacob laughed back in rueful agreement. “I’d love one. But not until the day is done.” “Could you believe her?” Ray confided. “Man, there’s just something about a wedding that makes people crazy. Maybe it’s all that love in the air.” Jacob brushed at the light wool of his dark trousers. The hotel carpets had a tendency to shed, and despite the stiffness in his leg, he had used the floor to achieve some interesting perspectives. It would seem old habits never died. Alan used to tease him about the way he crawled on the floor during a shoot. Stop that, Jacob warned himself. There would be no love in the air for him. Alan was long gone, and despite Jacob’s longing dreams, there wasn’t a chance of his ever coming back. Not after the way Jacob had treated him. Ray knocked on the door to the groom’s suite, and they were unceremoniously ushered in. Unlike the hushed and tearful atmosphere in the bride’s area, the men gathered together in a more casual fashion. Several had glasses in hand, drinking while they sat on the couch in their shirtsleeves watching some event on the local sports channel.

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To entertain them the groom posed in his bright, yellow boxers. He preened and flexed his lack of muscle in front of the mirror to the hooting admiration of those not caught up in the game. Peanuts and balled-up napkins were tossed at him while he tried to catch them by holding out his waistband. Jacob couldn’t help but snap a few shots. He tried not to wonder at the potential Amanda saw here. “At least we got here when he still had his shorts on. I know we are supposed to be taking candid shots, but this is ridiculous.” Ray pushed his glasses higher up his nose as he whispered his disgust to Jacob. “Where do you want to start?” “You see if you can get the groom cleaned up, and I’ll get some backgrounds of the groomsmen.” Jacob pasted back on his professional smile and patted his young assistant on the back with a shudder. Being on autopilot made this part easy. Jacob knew the basics required, and so did most of the men. The bride’s father obliged him by posing with his empty pockets pulled out to show the expense of the wedding, and once the groom was reined in, he and his friends cheerfully lined up to pose in their morning coats and top hats. Jacob still didn’t trust himself to look directly at his subjects. He feared the return of the strange paralysis that overcame him after his past, ill-fated shoot. He continued to let his eyes focus on the background and details. Anything but the human subjects.

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Amanda or her mother had chosen a neutral champagne color for the waistcoats. The material had a subtle sheen that drew his artistic eye. Jacob’s finger hit the auto-shutter release as he let the lens find its way down the male half of the wedding party. Most men looked attractive when dressed to their best advantage, but Jacob found one of the men especially fascinating. Jacob knew he should spend more time on the groom, but he trusted Ray would take enough filler shots to make up for his lack. Jacob’s long-absent muse insisted he come back again and again to the blond with the short cropped hair at the end of the line of groomsmen. The tailored fit of the wedding finery accented the lean breadth of his shoulders and the narrowness of his hips. But he was more than just a striking figure. The camera in Jacob’s hand loved him. It caressed the curve of his cheekbone and the shadows that filled in the hollows beside his full mouth. Jacob seemed to instinctively know how to frame each shot. He would kill to get this guy for a separate shoot. That mouth alone amazed him. Jacob could picture the full lips swollen with passion, and the artistic force within him suddenly layered the image against smears of ochre, chartreuse and vermilion. The emotions that mouth raised reminded him uncomfortably of Alan so to distract himself Jacob let the lens drift upward to the clear green eyes that even through

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the distance of the camera lens seemed to look right through him. Jacob faltered. Here at last, the moment he had been afraid of for so long. He froze; his finger motionless on the shutter. But recognition stayed his hand, not memories of his last photo shoot or the accident that followed. Jacob had photographed this man before. He knew the angle of those cheekbones; that curve of the full lips. Jacob had seen them through his lens before, photographed them a hundred times. It was Alan.

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IV

“JACOB? Mr. Wynn?” Ray dared to tug at Jacob’s arm as he stood there with the camera held motionless against his face. “Are you okay?” “What?” Could his hopes be playing tricks on him? Jacob stared through the camera lens before he tried superimposing his mental image over the man that stood so silent directly in front of him. If he ignored the difference in the hairstyle and the loss of weight, then it had to be Alan. Except, upon seeing Jacob, this Alan’s face stayed smooth and calm, an emotionless mask rather than being happy and open like Jacob remembered. More than anything, that bothered Jacob. There had been a time when Jacob had known Alan’s every thought just by looking into those eyes. “Yes. Sorry.” Jacob forced his fingers to relax their grip. He let the camera hang from the strap around his neck as he turned to face Ray. “I’m sorry.” He apologized for a second time, unsure as to which of the two men he addressed his words. When he found the courage to turn back, Alan had disappeared into the groom’s bedroom.

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“Could I glance at the notes again, just for a moment?” Jacob asked. Ray gave Jacob an odd look but pulled Harry’s folder from his equipment bag. Jacob rested the spine in one unsteady hand and quickly flipped through the pages. There, just like he thought. The listing of the members in the wedding party. His finger traveled down the typed page and stopped above one name. Alan Haynes. His Alan. “Oh yeah.” Ray stood beside Jacob, peering over his shoulder at the open folder. “I recognize his name. Weren’t you guys together years back?” “What?” Jacob looked up, dazed. “After your accident they did a great retrospective on your life and career. You couldn’t turn on the television or go online without seeing that stuff.” Ray’s enthusiasm bubbled over. “The story was everywhere for weeks.” Jacob felt sick. He shouldn’t be so surprised, but he had been old news in New York by the time he had left the hospital. He hadn’t been aware the media circus had made it all the way back home. “Does he know?” Ray asked. His eyes reflected his enthusiastic desire for some inside information, something juicy that hadn’t been reported in the tabloids.

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Jacob’s head jerked at Ray’s eager question. “Know what?” “That you were leaving the man in New York before the accident. Does Alan Haynes know?” The blue eyes didn’t blink nervously anymore; they gazed steadily at Jacob avid and full of knowledge and curiously. “Where did you hear that?” Jacob whispered, horrified at hearing something so personal tossed casually out into the open. He looked around and wondered if any of the men gathered in front of the television had heard Ray’s question. “Why would you possibly ask that?” “I don’t know. Probably one of the entertainment shows.” Ray shrugged as if the answer should be obvious. His disappointment at Jacob’s lack of forthcoming information made him sulky. “It’s not a big deal. Everybody there that day did an interview.” He took the papers from Jacob’s slack fingers, oblivious to the havoc his words left in their wake. “It’s time to head down and check the setup for the service.” “Fine.” Jacob had difficulty uttering his reply. His dry throat barely managed to produce the one word. How could Ray be so matter of fact over the event that had all but ruined Jacob’s life? “Oh wow. I’m sorry.” Ray finally noticed the look on Jacob’s face. “I didn’t mean to upset you. It’s hard sometimes to remember that the stuff on television is about real people.”

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“I’m fine, Ray.” Jacob swallowed his anger at having his life reduced to “the stuff on television.” “You go ahead and get started; I’ll finish up here.” Ray looked like he might protest his dismissal, but in the end he nodded and headed to the main hall. Jacob took a few shots of the remaining groomsmen to calm down. They finished off their drinks and made a couple more toasts before they finally left without paying him any more attention than they would a chair. For a few, brief moments, quiet filled the suite. He knew he should join Ray, but Jacob refused to leave the room until he had a chance to talk to Alan. Jacob had to see him again. His hands clenched, and Jacob stared down at them with bemusement. He always wondered what he would do if he ever got a second chance with Alan. This might be as close as Jacob would ever get. “Shouldn’t you be downstairs?” Jacob closed his eyes in gratitude when he heard the familiar voice, the voice that spoke to him in his dreams behind him. “I wanted to talk to you.” “Why?” The steel underlying Alan’s quiet question stunned Jacob as he turned to face his biggest failure. “What do you mean why? After everything we meant to each other?” Jacob’s eyes traveled hungrily over Alan’s body, adding each change in detail to his mental collection.

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“From what I remember things were pretty one-sided. At least near the end.” Alan walked over to the window, and Jacob wondered what he saw when he looked out. What did this Alan dream of in the dark of the night? Did he have someone to hold close and chase away his nightmares? “You cut your hair.” Jacob spoke first. Anything to break the silence that had fallen between them. “You’ve changed.” He winced after he uttered the stupid statement. Of course Alan had changed. It was Jacob who was stuck in the past, unable to let go. Alan had obviously moved on in more ways than one. “So have you. Jacob Wynn the wedding photographer. That’s a new one.” Alan kept his back turned away, and Jacob had to content himself with staring at the pull of material that accented the remembered line of Alan’s back and hip. “Or should I say: How the mighty have fallen?” Jacob ignored the mocking note in Alan’s voice. “I’m filling in for Harry Osborn. You remember him?” He couldn’t make himself shut up. “I didn’t know you would be here.” Jacob winced. Of course he didn’t, how would he? “Why wouldn’t I be here? It’s only my cousin’s wedding. You might have recognized his name.” Alan shook his head at Jacob’s awkward statement, his voice staying hard as he countered Jacob’s response. It hammered away at Jacob, forcing him to face the memory of the man he had been. “But then, you couldn’t ever be bothered to pay attention to anything that wasn’t about you.”

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“I’m sorry.” Jacob said. Here, finally, was his chance to apologize. “I’m so sorry for what I did to us, the things I said.” He swallowed the lump of hope and nerves in his throat. They were obstacles in his search for enough moisture in his dry mouth to finish what he needed to say. “I’m especially sorry for the things I didn’t do, the things I didn’t say.” Alan leaned his back against the window with his hands shoved deep in his pockets. Jacob felt dizzy and disorientated. Alan looked the same, he even sounded the same, but a different man fit over the top of everything Jacob remembered like an overlay. Jacob could almost see his Alan through the haze of change, but not quite. “You know, there’s a lot I imagined you might say if we ever ran into each other. That wasn’t one of them.” Sunlight streamed in through the window, backlighting Alan and hiding his face. He hadn’t walked away. Jacob consoled himself. Alan was still invested enough in their relationship to listen to him. “I tried to find you.” Jacob ran his hand over his tousled dark hair. “I looked for months. No one knew where you had gone.” “What did I have to stick around for? You had made your feelings plain. Mr. Small Town, I think you called me?” Alan shifted, the light behind him falling away and bringing the sharp angles back into view, but his face stayed closed with his emotions hidden. Jacob struggled to find any trace

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of expression, any hint of hope in the veiled eyes. “How’d that big city work out for you?” Metal. Glass. The rich bold color of Marco’s blood. The room spun around him. Jacob swayed, his hand grasped at the back of the closest chair for support. “Are you okay?” Alan finally pulled himself away from the window and walked closer to Jacob. His hands reached out in the empty air, hesitated, and then dropped back to his side. “Do you need to sit down?” This close Jacob could begin to see the small changes time had wrought; the network of tiny lines at the corner of Alan’s eyes and the faintest hint of gray in the short blond hair. Did he prefer Alan’s reluctant concern or his coldness? “I heard about the accident and what happened to your—to him. I am sorry.” Then again, Jacob didn’t want Alan’s pity. “It wasn’t an accident, you know.” The wooden back of the chair felt sharp beneath the grip of his hand, biting into his flesh. Alan stared at him, his green eyes darkened with an emotion Jacob didn’t recognize. But he stayed close, and that gave Jacob enough hope to continue. “Marco deliberately ran into me.” His leg trembled. Jacob gave into his momentary weakness and sat down in the chair with visible effort. He couldn’t miss the exquisite irony inherent in the reversal of their positions after all this time. Alan standing tall and proud while Jacob for once was

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in the subservient position. “I was leaving him, going back to you.” Jacob shook his head. Even after two years the raw memories held the power to hurt, but he needed to get this out before Alan walked away. “I used Marco as your standin, and he knew it. He reacted badly. We never finished the shoot. I—I couldn’t. When I left he was so angry—” Jacob wiped his palm over his eyes. “He tried to stop me.” “Jesus, Jacob,” Alan said. His hand gestured helplessly in the air before it closed into a fist. “Why are you telling me this? What do you want me to say?” “Nothing.” Jacob’s lips twisted in an imitation of a smile at the anger in Alan’s voice. “There’s nothing for you to say. I just promised myself if I ever got the chance, I’d tell you one last time how much I loved you then.” Invisible bands clamped across his chest, making it hard to inhale, but Jacob pushed himself to finish. “How very much I still do.”

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V

AMANDA’S wedding planner had directed the decorating of the interior of the hotel ballroom with the same tasteful care as everywhere else. Billows of draped white netting artfully covered the ceiling, lending it a more intimate feeling. The cavernous space had been divided by partitions of white lattice, flickering candles, and huge urns of flowers that kept the raised stage set aside for the ceremony separate from the tables and dance floor for the reception. Jacob stumbled as he assumed his position at the front of the stage, the long day and stress already taking its toll. The lovely Amanda apparently favored a traditional look despite the modern location. Wood pews had been brought in to match the stage, creating a warmer atmosphere. On the side that faced the aisle, each pew was adorned with ribbons and flowers. Ivy trailed onto the pristine rice paper as they waited for the ceremony to begin. “What took you so long?” Ray hissed the words under his breath as he exchanged the camera Jacob wore around his neck for one with the controls set for the change in lighting. “They’re ready to start.” Jacob ignored him and focused on the logistics. He needed to concentrate on the approaching ceremony. Harry

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had sketched out some angles to shoot from that Jacob wanted to be sure would work in this space. One look told him he shouldn’t have worried. Once again Harry had come through. He couldn’t stop thinking about the way Alan had walked out of the room without another word, leaving Jacob sitting there alone. But what had he expected? Neither one of them had expected to see the other after all this time. Was Alan with someone now? Had he brought a partner to the wedding? Even if he had, Jacob took comfort from the show of anger he had managed to jolt out of Alan. Anger was at least an emotion, and any emotion was better than bored indifference. A string quartet was playing softly off to one side. Their music filled the background as the ushers walked the wedding guests up the outside aisle to the pews, seating them according to some master plan Jacob had never been able to figure out with the few weddings he had attended. He and Ray were kept busy with their cameras. Amanda and her husband-to-be (Alan’s cousin, Jacob’s brain inserted helpfully) had asked for pictures of the guests. Thankfully the experienced ushers knew just where to pause long enough to allow the photographs to be taken. All too soon the guests were seated. Jacob snapped shots of the groom and his party as they mounted the steps to the stage and took their places. He felt a surge of pride at Alan’s appearance and poise. Once he would have been able

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to point and say, “he’s with me”; now he just made sure to take the best shots of his ex-lover that he could. The music changed, signaling the beginning of the procession. Jacob had to smile at the flower girls. The youngest had dark curls that bounced with each step. Obviously unhappy with how her rose petals landed, she carefully reached down after each toss to adjust them individually. When urged to hurry up by her embarrassed mother she retaliated by dumping her entire basket over her head. Jacob got the shot with a smile. As strange as it seemed, being able to openly acknowledge his love for Alan once again had released something inside of Jacob. He felt rejuvenated and at peace, almost giddy as he let himself ride the waves of emotion filling the ballroom. Unbelievably, just seeing Alan had made him happy for the first time in years. Jacob focused the camera on Amanda and her father as they paced down the aisle in perfect measure to the march. Amanda’s smile was blinding beneath her frothy veil. Jacob wondered what it would feel like to know his love was returned so unconditionally. He had that once and let it slip away. With Amanda handed over to her groom, Jacob and Ray moved to the back of the pews for the actual ceremony. A videographer stood there as well, and they made sure to respect each other’s space.

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“Are you sure everything’s okay?” Ray pressed. “You’re acting really weird.” In the past Alan had accused Jacob of using his camera as a way to distance himself from the rest of the world and as a buffer in their relationship. He had been right. Jacob realized that he didn’t want to view this moment, perhaps his last glimpse of Alan, through the lens of a camera, and he turned to Ray. “I need you to go ahead and cover the ceremony solo.” Jacob smiled calmly at Ray’s shocked reaction. “Are you nuts?” Ray shook his head. He had expected Jacob Wynn to be eccentric, but this was ridiculous. “You’ll do fine. Harry has shown me your work.” Jacob felt nothing but relief as he dropped his camera down to his chest and stepped to the back despite Ray’s disbelieving huff. He refused to let go of the opportunity to really experience this ceremony. With Ray frantically snapping away, Jacob let his gaze rest on Alan. An overwhelming sense of love and peace flooded through him. He could hear the soft music which was perfectly pitched not to overwhelm the pastor as he spoke, and Jacob’s fear and uncertainty from the last two years disappeared. Even though they were in a hotel ballroom rather than a church, there was a hush in the air that reminded Jacob of the last time he had attended a service. He didn’t know what

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to call it other than a sense of being touched by something greater than himself. Jacob stood there, silent and still, and let the feeling sweep over him. Was this the magic of weddings? He couldn’t help but look at the man he had loved and lost through his own selfishness. The man who too late he realized meant more to him than anything he had ever thought important. For the first time, Jacob understood just what he had walked away from. Freed from his camera and ignoring everything else, Jacob gazed directly at Alan. Easy enough with all attention centered on Amanda and her groom. He grinned and was rewarded when Alan neglected the ceremony taking place before him and stared back with an exasperation that changed to puzzlement. After all these years they still connected on an almost tangible level. Jacob knew it, and he could tell Alan did too. When Amanda spoke her vows it seemed natural for Jacob to let his lips move. It was easy to let the meaning resonate within as he repeated the words of commitment just under his breath. Jacob did what he should have done years ago; he consciously dedicated his life fully to Alan. All too soon the ceremony ended, and Alan’s attention turned back to his part in the proceedings. It was enough though; Jacob was confident there was something still between them. But before he could explore it he had to get

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back to work, and that meant first he needed to soothe Harry’s irritated assistant. “Relax, Ray. You did a great job.” “I’m glad you’re taking this so lightly, but this client is a big deal for Mr. Osborn, and I can’t think he’d appreciate your cavalier attitude.” Ray’s hero worship had vanished, replaced by irritation. The ceremony might be over, but the hardest work still needed to be done. “You’re right.” Jacob couldn’t stop grinning. Ray’s aggravation made him much easier to deal with than his fannish interest had. “I promise I’ll give the rest of the afternoon my full attention.” “Well, you should.” Ray instantly deflated. He looked miserable and more than a little scared. “I mean, well—” “Let’s get the portraits over with, Ray.” Jacob gave the embarrassed young man an out. “We shouldn’t keep the happy couple waiting.”

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VI

WEDDINGS were funny things, Jacob decided as he looked around the ballroom. On one hand they were full of wonder and excitement, a way to celebrate one of life’s most amazing and mysterious forces, the attraction between two people and the connection that entwined their lives. On the other, at no other time did humans gather together and act in such an embarrassing manner. “Do you think it’s the booze?” Jacob asked Ray as they snapped some candid shots of the couples out on the dance floor. If he were in another profession, those photos would be considered ammunition for blackmail. Harry made a good drinking buddy, with plenty of stories to spark a ready laugh. Jacob was beginning to understand where some of them came from. “I don’t know what it is.” Ray wiped at his forehead. “I’ll just be happy when this is over.” Jacob could only echo his sentiment. The wedding itself had been hard work, energizing as it was to know that his abilities hadn’t deserted him. Harder still had been forcing himself to stay away from Alan and concentrate on the rest of the day. Like most of those with pretensions toward serious art, Jacob had sneered at his colleagues who had fallen into the

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old standbys of wedding and child photography to pay the bills. Even during his friendship with Harry, he had privately looked down on his friend for taking the easy way out and for what Jacob perceived as the lack of creativity in Harry’s work. He had been wrong once again, and Jacob knew he owed Harry an apology when this was over. He and Ray had taken an enormous amount of shots. As much as Jacob missed the physical and hands-on aspects of working with film stock, he had to admit that the digital age made this job easier. He couldn’t imagine how much film they would have gone through. Portraits of the bride and groom and the family groupings were the most important to some families. Jacob knew that events such as weddings were the only time they gathered together. He must have paid more attention to Harry’s constant bitching than he thought, because suddenly the shoot began to gel for him, each segment merging seamlessly into the larger gestalt. Since just being near Alan had his senses tingling, Jacob did his best to stay professional when posing the wedding party. He darted in and out among the party, adjusting and urging them to relax and let their enjoyment of the day show through. There was so much to be aware of, like making sure a bridesmaid’s dress hung correctly and that the groomsmen hadn’t loosened any of their buttons or ties. The slightest detail could throw off a shot, and there were no second chances.

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Difficult didn’t begin to describe what it was like for Jacob to be close enough to Alan to smell his familiar cologne. When he let his hand rest on Alan’s shoulder, the better to angle him toward the man beside him, Jacob actually got hard at the warmth of Alan’s body under his touch. Alan appeared to be conscious of him as well and refused to meet Jacob’s eyes. Knowing his leg was already overstressed, Jacob had made sure to divide up the rest of the needed shots with Ray once the difficult portrait work was done. Ray was feeling his oats now, eager to take care of the dinner candids and the cake cutting as well as the bouquet and garter toss while Jacob had sat back. He had lost track of Alan along the course of the afternoon, concentrating as he had on the work. Jacob was almost proud of himself, putting the job above his personal desires for once. An old dog could learn new tricks. “You seem like you’re in a much better mood than you were earlier.” Ray stopped by Jacob to mark his filled memory card and put it carefully away. Ray fairly swaggered with his new confidence, and Jacob realized he owed Harry a lot more than he thought. He grinned. Harry was going to have a hard time reining the young photographer back in. “It must be the air.” Jacob gestured toward the crowd. “Take a look at them, how can you not be moved?” Amanda and her groom were slowly circling the dance floor. They held each other close and didn’t pay attention to

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anything or anyone around them, wrapped as they were in a bubble that locked the rest of world out. “That’s definitely magic.” Ray didn’t answer, and Jacob looked up to find Alan standing there instead. “Hi,” Jacob said huskily. He hadn’t heard Alan walk up, and he certainly hadn’t noticed Ray leave. He wondered where Ray had gone but decided just as quickly he didn’t care. “Hi.” Alan had lost his morning coat somewhere along the course of the long afternoon, and his hands were thrust into his pants pockets once again. He stared intently at Jacob. “That didn’t sound like the Jacob Wynn I knew.” “A lot has happened to that man,” Jacob replied. “I don’t think you’ll find much the same.” He stared at Alan’s deliberately casual pose and wondered if it were real or just show. Did Alan’s hands shake like Jacob’s? Did he have to hide them to keep from giving himself away? Oh, how Jacob hoped. The candles on the tables flickered, their acrid smoke filling the air on top of the mix of perfume. The music and laughter of the crowd surrounded them. The lights had been lowered, lending the moment a sense of intimacy for which Jacob was grateful. “That’s too bad.” Alan said. “I kind of liked that man.” “Well, he was a bit of an ass.” Jacob’s head fell back against the top of the chair. “Or so I’ve heard.”

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“What do you want from me, Jacob?” Alan asked. “Nothing.” Jacob couldn’t help but smile tiredly at his lie. “And everything.” “How can you just appear out of nowhere and talk like this? Why now? What about my life? What about the things I’ve accomplished after you left me? Do I just toss those away to trail after you?” Alan paced back and forth in front of Jacob. His lean body almost vibrated with the strength of his feelings. “I didn’t do it before, what makes you think I’d do it now?” Jacob reached out and put his hand on Alan, halting his agitated movements and enjoying the feel of Alan’s skin under his once again. “I don’t expect anything, Alan. The things you’ve done, I’d like to hear about. The man you’ve become, I’d like to get to know.” “Just like that?” Alan shook his head again. “I don’t know.” “No, I understand there’s a lot more to it than that.” Jacob finally stood up. He needed to be Alan’s equal for this moment. He took both of Alan’s hands in his and held them to his chest. “But I meant the words I spoke today. They were a promise from the heart, and I mean the ones I’m saying now.” The music changed to a softer, more romantic number, and the younger, energetic crowd gave way as older couples drifted onto the dance floor. Jacob pulled at Alan’s unresisting arm, urging him into the swaying crowd. Sure, it

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might just have been an excuse to hold him, but Jacob was going to grab at everything he could. “I shouldn’t have let you walk away from me, Alan. I’ve not been the same without you.” Jacob could feel the twinge in his leg as they slowly circled the floor, but he ignored it. Alan’s back was warm under his fingers, the muscles strong and the heartbeat steady. For the moment Jacob had everything he wanted. “Who are you, and what did you do with Jacob Wynn?” Alan asked as he let his head come to rest on Jacob’s shoulder. It wasn’t a concession as much as an acknowledgement of the past behind them and the possibilities of the future. “You never used to run off at the mouth like this.” “Another one of my mistakes.” Jacob laughed softly. He let his fingers trail over the thin skin of Alan’s ears and into the soft brush of his hair. “I’ve made so many.” “What if I told you I was with someone? What would you do?” Alan’s words were softly spoken, but Jacob heard them all the same. “I’d have to live with it.” Jacob sighed and lowered his cheek, brushing for just an instant against Alan. “I’d have to give you the chance to be happy without me.” Alan’s arms tightened around Jacob’s waist and pulled him closer. “And if I’m not? What now?”

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“Now you give me your phone number and tell me where you live, and we take it from there.” The song ended, and they stopped dancing to look at each other. “Do second chances ever really work?” Alan asked wistfully. “Maybe we’ll just call it something to look forward to instead,” Jacob joked. He raised his hand and laid it carefully against Alan’s cheek. He wanted so badly to kiss Alan and stake a claim, but he knew he needed to take this slow. “I can’t think of anything I want more than this.” The flash of the camera was bright, directed at their faces, and Alan’s head jerked out of Jacob’s touch as they turned to where Ray stood, smiling nervously at his own daring. “It appears I should get back to work.” Jacob said with a rueful grimace. He hesitated, afraid of the similarity with the old days. “This time, I’ll wait.” Alan turned Jacob’s face to his and smiled that wide open smile Jacob had thought he’d never seen again. “You promised me something to look forward to.”

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The joke in CHRISSY MUNDER’s family is that she was born with a book in her hand. Even now, you’ll never find her without a book or seven scattered about. Forced to become a practicing realist in an effort to combat her tendency to dream, her many years of travel and a diverse assortment of careers have taken her across most of the U.S. and shown her that there are two things you can never have enough of: love and laughter.

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Promise of the Heart ©Copyright Chrissy Munder, 2009 Published by Dreamspinner Press 4760 Preston Road Suite 244-149 Frisco, TX 75034 http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com/ This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the authors’ imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental. Cover Design by Mara McKennen This book is licensed to the original purchaser only. Duplication or distribution via any means is illegal and a violation of International Copyright Law, subject to criminal prosecution and upon conviction, fines and/or imprisonment. This eBook cannot be legally loaned or given to others. No part of this eBook can be shared or reproduced without the express permission of the publisher. To request permission and all other inquiries, contact Dreamspinner Press at: 4760 Preston Road, Suite 244-149, Frisco, TX 75034 http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com/ Released in the United States of America June, 2009

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