Tell No Lies

Tell No Lies

G. H. Worth

Tell No Lies Copyright © August 2010 All rights reserved. This copy is intended for the purchaser of this e-book ONLY. No part of this e-book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without prior written permission from Loose Id LLC. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author's rights. Purchase only authorized editions. eISBN 978-1-60737-839-6 Cover Artist: Justin James Printed in the United States of America

Published by Loose Id LLC PO Box 425960 San Francisco CA 94142-5960 www.loose-id.com This e-book is a work of fiction. While reference might be made to actual historical events or existing locations, the names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author‟s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

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Dedication To Mickey, who has always supported me in everything I've done.

Chapter One “I don‟t understand why you‟re being so difficult, Dad. I‟m trying to help.” Win Morgan groaned at the word help. Help? He loved his daughter, but did she really think her meddling—her nosiness—into his private life was helpful? He didn‟t think so, since she didn‟t seem to understand. “How many times do I have to tell you? I don‟t want or need your help, Emily. I‟m an intelligent, responsible adult and able to find dates on my own.” “But you don‟t.” The voice coming through the cell phone sounded cajoling, which set his teeth on edge. “I know several women who‟d love to go out with you. I‟d be happy to give you their numbers.” His mouth dropped open, then slammed shut again, his teeth clacking together so hard, Win was afraid he‟d cracked a tooth. Women? Emily had suggested he date women, as in more than one. He didn‟t want one woman, much less two or more. What he wanted was for his friends and family to stay out of his private life. “I understand you want to help, but it doesn‟t change the fact that I‟m not interested in going on another blind date. More importantly, I don‟t understand your persistence when you know it pisses me off.” Win‟s sweating palms slipped on the steering wheel as he looked up the street and to the left, staring at the line of cars and trucks waiting to turn into the large fenced parking lot ahead. He jerked his gaze back to the traffic around his SUV, signaled to change lanes, and took his place in the slow-moving line. “Because you deserve a little happiness,” Emily snapped back, “and I‟m determined for you to get it.” Win gritted his teeth and recited the first ten elements in the periodic table to keep from yelling at his daughter like a frustrated lunatic. How many times did he need to say her help wasn‟t wanted before it sank in? A hundred? A thousand? A million? Despite his annoyance, Win kept his voice calm and his inflection neutral. “Emily, listen carefully. Your attempts to set me up with a so-called suitable woman need to end now. I‟ve tried to be a good sport and, against my better judgment, played along with your harebrained ideas, but I‟m done. That means no more accidental meetings at the bank, market, or bookstore, no more divorced women bringing their healthy kids into the office just so their mommies can ask me on a date, and no more hand-delivered cakes, pies, and cookies.” “But—”

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“I suggest you contact all the women you‟ve talked to and let them know I‟m off the market.” “You can‟t be serious.” Win barely paid attention as his daughter continued to drone on. He flipped on the turn signal, watched the oncoming traffic, and waited for his chance to cross the two congested lanes that separated him from the parking lot. It took only seconds before the light at the next intersection changed to red, stopping traffic, and Win followed three others vehicles into the crowded lot. As he drove through the entrance, he passed a young Hispanic man dressed in black, who was directing traffic away from the building‟s entrance. Win saw the digital readout on the dash—8:35—and was surprised the popular club appeared jam-packed so early on a Thursday evening. Win was driving down the last row of parking spaces, looking for an open slot, when he heard Emily‟s voice coming through his phone line. She sounded upbeat and happy, which made him realize she‟d ignored everything he‟d said. “So what do you think?” “I think I wasn‟t listening.” “Dad!” Win exhaled as he spotted an open parking slot ten feet ahead. He drove forward, backed into the space, and then turned off the engine. “I‟m done talking. I have plans for the evening and intend to enjoy myself. So this is where I say goodbye.” “Wait! Where are you taking Sarah for dinner?” “There isn‟t going to be a dinner with Sarah, tonight or ever. I phoned her early this morning, explained what you were doing, and apologized for canceling.” “No,” she yelled so loudly it made his ears ring. “The woman is perfect. You just need to spend some time with her.” Jerking the offending piece of technology away from his ear, Win stared at the cell phone, unable to believe what he‟d heard. He felt his face heat and his temper boil seconds before he slammed the phone back against his ear. “That is enough. I don‟t want to hear another word out of you.” He took a couple of deep, heaving breaths. “I‟m the parent, you‟re the child, and this ridiculous conversation is over.” Without waiting for a response, Win flipped the phone closed, ending the call. He looked through the windshield at the men walking across the lot, all thoughts of the previous conversation forgotten when he was faced with what he hoped was his future. After thinking about it for several weeks, Win could hardly believe where he was. He, Dr. Winston Morgan, sat in the parking lot of Denver‟s most popular gay club, The Batting Cage, shaking in his shoes. Whatever had made him think driving nearly sixty miles from Colorado Springs to Denver was a good idea? Should he go in, should he go home, or should he pound his forehead on the steering wheel until he beat some sense into his forty-three-year-old self?

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Decisions. Decisions. What to do? What to do? Leave or stay? That was crux of the problem and explained why Win still sat in his vehicle five minutes after he‟d arrived. He didn‟t know what to do. Well, that wasn‟t entirely true. His body wanted to get lucky, but his brain said something else. His brain said he was stupid for coming here and should pull out of his parking space and leave, as quickly as possible. He saw the long line of men snaking around the building and slumped back against the leather seat. What did he know of the gay bar scene? Nothing. He took a quick glance at his tailored gray silk shirt, black jeans, and imported black Italian boots. What did he know about dressing to attract a man? Again nothing. Especially if the clothes worn by the men walking toward the building were examples of what he should have worn. Make that what they weren‟t wearing. Despite the chilly temperatures, some of the men weren‟t wearing shirts at all. Then there was his age to consider. A quick look was all Win needed to see most of the men heading for the line were fifteen to twenty years his junior, and none had his faint sprinkling of gray hair at their temples. Who was he kidding? He didn‟t have a chance with the huge number of men parading past his SUV. He might as well go home to avoid the humiliating rejection. What was wrong with him? Where had his self-confidence gone? “Hey, handsome.” Win jumped and swiveled his head to the left. As he peered through the open window into the darkness, he saw a thin, brown-haired man dressed in skintight faded blue jeans and a long-sleeved red T-shirt standing five feet away. “Are you talking to me?” The guy made a big production of looking all around and even bent down to peer under the navy pickup truck parked next to Win. “Who else would I be talking to? There‟s nobody here but us.” Any misgivings Win felt fled in the face of the younger man‟s interest, giving him the confidence boost he needed to go inside instead of slithering home like a loser. He couldn‟t help but return the man‟s sexy smile. “So, you think I‟m handsome?” The younger man stepped closer. “I wouldn‟t have said so if I didn‟t mean it. My name‟s Tyler. What‟s yours?” “Win.” His gaze darted from Tyler to the building and back. “This is my first time here. What‟s the club like?” “Fun, loud, sexy, and a little raunchy. There are lots of guys who have a kink for older men. Trust me. You won‟t have any trouble hooking up.” He moved closer to Win‟s car and waited for Win to shut the window, then opened the door. “Come on. We‟ll go in together, and I‟ll introduce you to a few people.” “Thanks, Tyler.”

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“It‟s my pleasure.” Win climbed out of his SUV and slammed the door. He turned, faced the building, and jumped a foot when he felt a hand on his shoulder. “Tyler! Give a guy a little warning. You scared the crap out of me.” The man chuckled and threw his arm around Win‟s shoulder. “If I weren‟t so crazy about my boyfriend, I‟d give you a try myself.”

*** D.J. Faulkner leaned against the bar, a warming longneck bottle of beer dangling from his right hand. He peered through the semidarkness, watching as several couples did a slow bump and grind on the small dance floor to music loud enough to cause deafness. The club was hot and dank; the scents of stale smoke, sweat, and sex permeated the crowded room. He took a sip of beer and then another. The room looked the same as it had years ago, when he‟d come in during the winter holiday break of his senior year of college, the last time he‟d stepped through its doors. In fact, it didn‟t look much different from any number of gay bars he‟d visited since he‟d graduated from West Point and gone off on his first military posting. That first posting in Texas seemed long ago—and it was. It had been ten years of being alone, doing his duty, keeping his secret, and having unfulfilling, meaningless sex with a stranger every few months. He was much more familiar with his own hand than he was the taste or touch of another man‟s skin. If anyone had told him how lonely his life would be serving his country while ignoring his own wants and needs, he‟d have called them crazy. He finished his beer with a big gulp and dropped the bottle onto the bar. D.J. signaled the bartender. “I‟ll have another.” The young redhead popped the cap, set the sweaty bottle down, and picked up the cash D.J. had thrown on the bar. “I don‟t think I‟ve seen you here before.” He looked at the eager face and almost growled. Why was it he always attracted guys who looked as if they‟d never shaved a day in their short lives? The answer wasn‟t difficult to figure out. It was his height, bulky muscles, and broad shoulders that drew sweet young men like flies to honey. “You haven‟t. The last time I was in this dump, you were still in grade school.” The bartender‟s effort to catch his eye was obvious, but unwelcome. Instead of continuing the conversation, D.J. gave him his “thanks, but I‟m not interested” smile and turned to look out into the room. What or whom he was looking for, he wasn‟t certain. It was possible coming to the Batting Cage wasn‟t a good idea after all. Just because he hadn‟t had sex in over six months didn‟t mean he couldn‟t wait a little longer. It might make him cranky, but it wouldn‟t kill him. After years in the army adhering to the government‟s “don‟t ask, don‟t tell” policy, he‟d become a pro at handling the sexual needs of his body.

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Movement to his extreme right jerked his attention back to the present, reminding him of why he stood inside Denver‟s hottest gay bar. He wanted to get laid and had come looking for a partner, but so far hadn‟t found a man who interested him. And that included the tall, thin blond dressed in skintight blue jeans who was coming his way. A frown crossed D.J.‟s face, the dark and dangerous expression causing the young man to swerve around a table and head back in the other direction. No sooner had the kid turned away than another started toward him, and this one wasn‟t stopped by a scowl. Crossing both arms over his chest, D.J. watched as a short, stocky man, naked from the waist up, came to a standstill in front of him. “Can I help you?” The stranger‟s manicured hand grasped his wrist. “Handsome, I was hoping I could help you out. Spend some time with you in one of the back rooms, scratching our mutual itch.” D.J. arched an eyebrow. He had to give the little shit points for trying. Too bad he wasn‟t in the mood to play games. “What makes you think I‟m even interested? I might be a straight coming to see if the wild rumors about the bar are true.” The guy laughed and moved closer, rubbing his semierect dick against D.J.‟s left leg. “You may look straight, you may even act straight, but you can‟t hide your interest.” He closed his hand around D.J.‟s cock, squeezing and kneading the long, thick flesh. “This monster tells me you‟re hot and ready to go. All you need is the right partner.” Another night the other man would have been right, but tonight D.J. had changed his mind; he didn‟t want a quick fuck in a dingy, anonymous room. He‟d rather go home with blue balls than rut like an animal with a stranger. A quick twist of D.J.‟s wrist, and he was free of the young stranger‟s grip. “Thanks, but no, thanks. I‟m not interested.” “Liar. I could see your cock pushing against your zipper from across the room.” “Unlike many men, my little head doesn‟t tell my big head what to do. I said I‟m not interested, and I meant it.” “Oh, you‟re interested all right.” He moved closer. “You just need to relax and let me make you feel good.” “What‟s your name?” “Ben.” He batted his eyelashes. “What‟s yours, stud?” “It doesn‟t matter.” D.J. leaned down until they were almost nose to nose, his voice rumbling out deep and menacing. “Ben, you‟re an attractive guy, and if you want to stay that way, you need to leave me alone before I lose my temper. You‟re not what I‟m looking for.” “Sugar, you‟re exactly what I’m looking for, so stop playing hard to get.” “I‟m not playing hard to get. I‟m not sweet.” “I bet your dick tastes real sweet.”

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“Trust me. My dick is never getting that close to your mouth.” As Ben rattled on, D.J. peered over his head, locking eyes with an attractive, dark-haired older man sitting at a table near the far back corner. His location in the room was too distant, the lighting too dim to tell the color of his eyes, and the table blocked the view of his lower half. From what D.J. could see, the man was likely five-eight or five-nine and weighed no more than one sixty. The guy might be small, but with his well-trimmed beard and mustache, there wasn‟t any doubt he was all male. He looked fit, toned, healthy, and just the right size to fit against D.J.‟s larger frame. The well-tailored shirt was a dead giveaway that he was classier and more successful than the bar‟s usual clientele, and by the way his fingers fidgeted on the tabletop, it was a good bet he‟d never visited a gay bar before. D.J. found his obvious nervousness oddly cute and endearing. Little Mr. Sexy, as D.J. quickly had come to think of him, pulled at his collar while he looked around the room. He was obviously nervous, and if the man didn‟t bolt soon, it would be a surprise. That meant D.J. needed to get rid of Ben and get across the room before some other roving eye got to his man first. D.J. felt a hand caress his ass, causing him to frown. “Are you still here?” Ben grinned. “Where else would I be, darling?” D.J. reached down and removed the hand rubbing his left butt cheek. “Ben, go away. I don‟t want you.” He nodded toward Little Mr. Sexy. “That‟s the guy I want.”

*** Win Morgan couldn‟t stop staring at the gorgeous hunk standing next to the bar. It didn‟t matter that a cute, half-naked young man—dressed in nothing but a pair of black leather pants tight enough to cut off the blood flow to all his important bits and pieces—had already approached him. He couldn‟t tear his eyes away, not even when the kid started rubbing the man‟s jeans-encased cock. He gulped down half his beer and started to squirm as his dick filled and pressed against his zipper. For the first time in twenty years, Win had gone without underwear, and he already regretted the decision. What he wouldn‟t give for a soft layer of silk sandwiched between his overheated flesh and the harsh fabric of his jeans. He leaned back in his chair, trying to ease the pressure on his aching balls, never looking away from the scene playing out at the bar. Win sipped his beer, looking over the bottle at Mr. Hunky as he removed the kid‟s hand from his backside. He didn‟t look angry, more like annoyed and unhappy. A broad figure stepped in front of Win, blocking his view of the bar. He looked up past heavily muscled thighs to a wide silver belt buckle that hugged a pair of lean hips, and then up a little farther to a set of tattooed biceps, a leather vest, and a bald head. The stranger had the thickest black mustache Win had ever seen set above thin lips, accenting a crooked nose that could have only resulted from at least one break in the past.

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Win found this type of man scary and not the least bit appealing, which would explain why his voice came out in a squeak. He might have been saying “hello” aloud, but his mind was screaming, Stupid…stupid…stupid. Where the hell are Tyler and his boyfriend when I need them? “Is your voice always that high-pitched, or are you nervous?” “Nervous. I‟ve never been in a gay bar before.” “Well, sweet thing, this is your lucky evening. Why don‟t you grab your beer and join me and my friends?” He motioned to a group of three like-dressed men a few feet away. “I bet one of us could show you a good time. Make you glad to be here.” When Win saw the tattooed guy‟s right eyelid twitch, his heart pounded faster. “I think I‟ll pass, if you don‟t mind.” “Oh, I mind.” “I‟m with someone, so you should go before he gets back.” Win said a quick prayer, hoping the man would take the hint and leave before it became obvious he was lying. The guy snorted and crossed his arms over his leather-clad chest. “I‟m not stupid, sweet thing. I‟ve been watching your sexy ass since my friends and I came in ten minutes ago, and I haven‟t seen any sign of your date.” The panic Win had experienced since the tattooed stranger approached quickly morphed into anger. As he stared up at the leering face, it didn‟t even register that he‟d moved around the table and was standing toe-to-toe with a man at least four inches taller and thirty pounds heavier than him. Before he could consider the possibilities, he jabbed his admirer in the chest with his index finger, pressing deep into the muscle. “My name isn‟t Sweet Thing.” He jabbed him again. “It‟s Win. I‟m not sweet, I‟m not easy or a pushover, and I‟m—” “Taken,” finished a deep, gravelly voice coming from behind him. The voice rumbled, sending chills racing down Win‟s spine straight to his dick, which took immediate notice by trying to stand up and salute. His attention had been so fixated on the man bothering him that Win hadn‟t looked to see if the tall, hunky man was still standing next to the bar. He wasn‟t. He was right behind him. His eyebrows shot up when the word taken registered. Was it possible this gorgeous guy, this sex on legs, wanted him? His rescuer moved closer, pressing his chest against Win‟s back, one bulky arm wrapping around his waist, pulling him closer. “I said he‟s taken, so if you don‟t want to get the shit beaten out of you, I‟d suggest you get your hand off my date.” It wasn‟t until he heard the words hand off my date that Win saw the broad palm wrapped around his wrist. He pulled. “Let go!” “Not going to happen,” Tattooed Guy answered. “I saw you first.”

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Win didn‟t know what to do or what to think, so he looked over his shoulder and mouthed a single word: help. The warm rush of air against Win‟s neck almost made his knees buckle. “I suggest you convince the fool that we‟re together,” Sex on Legs whispered in his ear. “Give it your best shot. I dare you.” Win did the only thing he could think of. He rubbed his ass against the groin behind him and got the reward he was looking for—a deep, raspy groan. A hard ridge of flesh nudged forward, causing him to squirm and twitch. Win hesitated a moment, grinning wickedly, then rubbed again. “You‟ve made your point,” his sexy rescuer purred in Win‟s ear. Win smirked, enjoying the press of jeans-clad flesh against his ass as much as he hated the tattooed stranger‟s hand on him. He turned his attention away from the man standing behind him to the man holding his wrist. “My date‟s bigger and stronger than you.” Win tried to pull free. “Let me go.” Win didn‟t see the quick movement of Sex on Legs‟s free hand until it had clamped around the leather-clad man‟s arm, a thick thumb pressing into the tender flesh at the base of his wrist. The thumb pressed harder, and he watched the man‟s face turn pale and his eyes widen in pain. Tattooed Guy grimaced but didn‟t release his grip on Win‟s wrist. “Friend, if you don‟t want me to snap your fucking wrist, you‟d better let him go.” As Tattooed Guy‟s grasp loosened, Win pulled his hand free. He wiggled his wrist to get the blood flowing again. “Go play with your friends and leave us alone.” A warm tongue ran up the side of Win‟s neck. “You tell him.” “I‟m outta here,” Tattooed Guy said as he backed away. “I don‟t need this shit.” All it took was a half turn and Win had his arms wrapped around the waist of his rescuer. He gave him a quick squeeze. “What‟s your name?” “Damien, but you can call me D.J.” “How about I call you my hero instead?” His unease and nervousness were gone now that he was safe in D.J.‟s arms. “Did that sound as stupid aloud as it did in my head?” A deep chuckle rumbled under his cheek. “Only a little.” “Well, so long as it was only a little.” Certain he would die of embarrassment, Win stood plastered against the man he‟d lusted after, and instead of sounding like the educated and sophisticated man he was, he felt as nervous and uncertain as a naive schoolboy. D.J. shifted his weight from one foot to the other and nodded toward the tiny dance floor. “The music‟s changing to something slower. If I promise not to step on your toes, will you dance with me?” Win‟s head popped up so fast that his neck creaked. “Excuse me?”

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D.J. bumped his groin against Win‟s hip. “Don‟t look so surprised. I knew some other guy would try to snap you up before I could get away from that kid, and I was right. Now, what about that dance?” Win grinned stupidly as the question sank in. “Dance? You want to dance?” “I‟d rather get horizontal with you, but I‟ll take dancing, if that‟s all you want.” “A dance sounds wonderful, but how about coming home with me after? It‟s about an hour‟s drive back to Colorado Springs, but I‟ll make it worth your while.”

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Chapter Two “I have a bottle of red wine. Would you like a glass?” Win asked as he walked toward the bar area on the far side of his living room. “Or I have beer in the refrigerator, if you‟d prefer.” D.J. followed, the flex and play of muscles in his new friend‟s ass drawing him like a magnet. After being celibate for months, he would soon get the sex he craved, and with a man he genuinely liked. He grinned as his cock twitched. When the leather-clad moron had refused to release Win—scared him—D.J. had wanted to punch the arrogant bastard. He‟d wanted to drag the creep outside by the nape of his thick neck and pound his leering face into the concrete until he begged for mercy. He‟d wanted to see him bleed, to feel his bones breaking. D.J. had only met Win a couple of hours ago, hadn‟t even kissed him yet, but felt possessive enough to punch another man for touching him. D.J. stopped midstride. What was wrong with him? “D.J., have you changed your mind? Do you want to leave?” Seeing the unhappy, worried expression on Win‟s face was like a kick in the teeth. D.J. noticed him twisting the large gold ring on his right hand and shifting his feet as if he was ready to bolt from the room. He stepped closer and pulled the smaller man into his arms, grinning as shivers racked Win‟s body. “I‟m not going anywhere but to the bedroom with you.” A soft nuzzle under D.J.‟s chin was followed by a tongue running up his neck. “Good. I don‟t want you to leave. I want you to stay.” Just as D.J. bent to kiss his new lover, he spied a fancy silver picture frame sitting on the mantel. Inside was a high school graduation photo of a beautiful young woman standing next to Win. “Who‟s the girl in the photo with you?” “My daughter, Emily. Is that a problem for you?” “Only if you‟re playing games with me.” He looked from the snapshot to Win. “Have you ever been with a man?” “I‟m not playing with you, at least not the way you mean.” Win laughed shakily as he stepped out of D.J.‟s arms. “It doesn‟t make much sense, and I hate to admit it, but I‟m nervous. I dated a man named Stephen a few times after my divorce, but it ended badly before the relationship moved past kissing. I haven‟t been with a man sexually in over twenty years.” He walked to the fireplace and plucked the frame from the mantel. “I‟ll give you the short version. I‟m bisexual. Always have been. Always will be. My now-ex-wife picked me to father her child

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and didn‟t care about the consequences of her actions on my life. She wanted to get her grubby hands on a hefty trust fund from her paternal grandparents. So one night during a campus party, she got me drunk. As soon as I discovered she was carrying my child, we married and tried to make a life together. At least I did. I raised our daughter while she played with her rich society friends. Five years ago, I came home early from work and caught her in my bed with her lover. I divorced the bitch.” “I take it marrying her wasn‟t part of your life plan.” Win snorted. “Hardly. I was in love with my boyfriend, Jack.” He set his daughter‟s picture back on the mantel. “Maybe this wasn‟t such a good idea after all.” “Shut up and come here.” Win licked his lips but stepped nearer. D.J. snagged the smaller man‟s wrist, pulling Win into his arms. “Trying to get rid of me so soon? I thought you wanted me here. Was I wrong?” “No, you weren‟t wrong, but you seemed a little unsettled to learn I have a child. That I had a wife.” Wrapping his hand around the back of Win‟s neck, D.J. leaned forward until their lips almost touched. “I think you‟re nervous and thinking too hard. I also think you need to kiss me before you chicken out.” Without waiting for a reply, D.J. slammed his mouth down onto Win‟s. The kiss was fierce, possessive, commanding, and the feel of Win‟s soft lips went straight to D.J.‟s half-hard cock, making it push against the zipper of his jeans. Using one hand to pull their hips closer, he raised the other to caress Win‟s soft beard. He nibbled Win‟s lower lip, then tapped the corner. “Open your mouth and let me in.” When Win‟s lips parted, D.J.‟s tongue surged inside, deepening the kiss, tasting, stroking, and caressing the sensitive tissues, causing Win‟s hips to buck and grind against his thigh. He pulled back a little and grinned when Win‟s mouth followed his as if he didn‟t want to let his lips pull away. The sweet moan, the soft purr were the sexiest sounds he‟d ever heard. “You‟re so damn hot.” D.J.‟s gaze roamed over the other man‟s face, his hands sliding downward to cup Win‟s rounded ass, his fingers kneading and rubbing. Win moaned and pushed back into his palms, trying for greater contact, more pressure. Without warning, Win interlaced his fingers behind D.J.‟s neck and gave a small, jerky hop, then wrapped his legs around the bigger man‟s hips. Win shivered and moaned low in his throat as their cocks rubbed against each other. “It‟s been so long since I‟ve felt the touch of another man.” He shivered again. “I‟d almost forgotten how good it feels to rub cock to cock.” “Trust me. When I get you naked, it‟ll only get better. I promise.” They both groaned as their swollen flesh brushed across their zippers. “I‟m counting on it, if my heart doesn‟t explode first.”

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On hearing that comment, D.J. stumbled and nearly dropped his soon-to-be lover as his knee connected with a large, brown leather footstool. “You don‟t have a bad heart, do you?” Win stopped kissing the skin behind D.J.‟s right ear. “Of course not. I had my yearly physical two weeks ago, and I‟m in perfect health.” “Good, since I intend to give your body a workout tonight.” “Oh God,” Win moaned as his forehead dropped to D.J.‟s shoulder. A chuckle rumbled from deep within D.J.‟s chest. “I might be good, but I‟m not that good.” “Shut up, you…you…” D.J. grinned. “You what?” “You sexy SOB.” Win returned the smile. “Are we going to stand here all night talking about my physical, or are we heading to the bedroom? It‟s your choice.” “Some choice.” D.J. took a step toward the open doorway leading into the hall, when the cell phone attached to Win‟s belt started playing the rocket explosions from the 1812 Overture. “Don‟t answer that.” “I have to.” Win groaned and let his legs drop from around D.J.‟s waist. “It‟s my daughter‟s ringtone.” “I don‟t believe this,” D.J. grumbled. “Don‟t whine, handsome. It‟s not becoming.” “I wasn‟t whining.” Resting a hand on D.J.‟s chest, Win grinned up into his face. “Yes, you were.” Although D.J. wanted to know what was going on, he stepped back to allow the other man some privacy. Win flipped his phone open and talked in soft, urgent tones. A month ago, if anyone had told him he‟d stand around waiting after having his sexual motor slammed from full throttle into idle, D.J. would have said they were nuts. As the expression on Win‟s face changed from irritated to concerned, he started to worry about his new friend, who was clearly upset. Win sighed, the inflection holding a note of resignation and regret, which D.J. knew meant an abrupt end to their evening. “What happened?” D.J. asked as the call ended. “Is your daughter all right?” “She‟s shook up, but not hurt.” “And…” Win rubbed his fist across his beard. “She had a blowout on the freeway and is sitting on the side of the road about halfway between here and Denver. Her fiancé is out of town on a business trip, so I need to ride to the rescue and change her flat tire.” A grin spread over D.J.‟s face as a vision flashed into his head of Win changing a dirty tire while standing on a busy interstate, struggling with a tire iron, lug nuts,

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and an uncooperative jack. The picture in his mind‟s eye just didn‟t fit with the puttogether and sophisticated image the man presented to the world. “I‟m thrilled you find my daughter‟s breakdown amusing.” Win bristled with annoyance. “You deserve a little end- of-the-evening entertainment since you won‟t—” “Don‟t be an ass,” D.J. hastened to interrupt. “That‟s not what I meant.” “Then why don‟t you explain it to me?” Win snapped back. “And stop grinning.” “Calm down. I was smiling at the image of you standing on a busy roadside, covered with dirt and grease.” D.J. shrugged. “On the surface, you seem more like a call-the-auto-club kind of guy.” “Hey, I know how to change a tire.” “I‟m sure you do.” As the tension in Win‟s shoulders relaxed and his reddened facial color returned to normal, D.J. removed his hands from his jeans and stepped closer. Win didn‟t resist, instead went willingly into D.J.‟s arms. “I guess I had a minor meltdown. Sorry.” “You think?” “Hey, I said I was sorry.” D.J. chuckled as he cupped one ass cheek. “You‟re just lucky I don‟t tan your backside.” “You wish.” Win gave him a leering wink. “You don‟t know me that well.” “Yet. I don‟t you that well yet.” He rested his chin on top of Win‟s head. “Which is something I intend to correct as soon as possible.” “I‟m glad to hear it.” Win stepped back. “But it won‟t be tonight. It‟s getting late, and I don‟t want to leave Emily stranded. There are too many crazies running around for my peace of mind.” “Hey, do you want me to come along and help with the tire?” He nodded to Win‟s spotless hands. “I‟d hate for you to ruin your pricey manicure.” Win flushed and shook his head. “As much as I‟m thankful for the offer and would love to spend more time with you, I don‟t think your coming along would be a good idea.” “Why? Afraid my tire-changing skills will put yours to shame?” “No, that‟s not it.” Win reached up and placed a quick kiss on D.J.‟s jaw. “Since I agreed to marry my ex-wife, I‟ve led a heterosexual life, so I‟ve never had a reason to tell my daughter I‟m bisexual. She still doesn‟t know. The only person who does is my best friend, Lyndsay.” D.J. pulled back so he could see Win‟s face. “Do you plan to tell her, or are you going to keep it a secret?”

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“Of course I‟m going to tell her at some point, but I know she‟ll be upset. Since she and Wyatt announced their engagement, she‟s been driving me crazy trying to find me the perfect new wife. I just need to get her married and settled.” “I can accept that.” He kissed the top of Win‟s head. “For now.” “Then I guess we‟d better exchange cell phone numbers and get the hell out of here.” D.J. kissed Win again, except this time he nibbled the side of the man‟s neck and licked the curve of his ear. “Before we leave, there‟s one other thing we need to take care of.” Win pressed closer and tipped his head to the side. “What‟s that?” “You need to change into another pair of jeans. Precum‟s soaked the zipper area on the ones you‟re wearing.” “Damn.”

*** Leaning down, D.J. peered under the white lace curtain covering half the backdoor window, allowing him to see into his cousin‟s kitchen. He could see two enormous ceramic mugs, spoons, a pint of half-and-half, and a little glass bowl holding yellow packets of artificial sweetener sitting on the center island. Across the room on the opposite counter sat a stainless-steel coffeemaker with black coffee dripping into a glass pot. A few feet away a plastic-wrapped loaf of bread, a tub of soft margarine, and a glass jar of what looked like orange marmalade sat next to the toaster. D.J. wanted coffee. Now. He pounded on the wood, rattling the door in its frame. “Hey, Ellis.” He pounded again. “Ellis, let me in before I break down the door. I need coffee, and I need it now.” Looking across the kitchen, D.J. saw his cousin round the corner at a near run, bare chested and with his dark blue jeans still unzipped. He skidded to a stop when he saw D.J. staring into his window. He advanced to the door, his brow furrowed, his hands on his hips. “What the hell is wrong with you?” he yelled through the glass. “It‟s not even eight yet.” “I know what time it is. Open the door and let me in.” Ellis arched a brow. “No.” “What do you mean no? I need coffee.” “And you passed at least one Starbucks, two convenience stores, and couple of doughnut shops on your drive over here. You can buy coffee at all those places.” “Damn it, Ellis. Don‟t be a smart-ass. Let me in.” D.J. smiled. “Please?” Ellis rolled his eyes as he jerked the door open. “You‟re pathetic.” “Whatever.” D.J. brushed past his cousin, making a beeline for the nowfinished coffee. He pulled a third mug from the overhead cabinet and picked up the pot. “Would you like a cup now, or are you waiting for Camille?”

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“I was going to wait for my wife, but since you‟re here and she isn‟t, I guess I‟ll have my first mug now.” D.J. snorted, almost spilling the hot liquid on his hand. “You mean the first mug of what, five or six pots? I thought Camille wanted you to drink less coffee.” “Mind your own business.” A door slammed in another part of the house. After walking to the door, Ellis stuck his head into the hall. “Babe, don‟t come out unless you‟re dressed. D.J.‟s here.” “What difference does it make?” she called back. “It‟s not like he‟s attracted to women.” She paused for a second. “And he‟s seen me naked before.” Ellis snapped his head around and glared at his cousin. “Would you like to explain why and how you saw my wife naked?” Sipping his coffee, D.J. stared at Ellis‟s red face and wondered if he‟d taken his high-blood-pressure pill that morning. “There‟s not much to say. I saw her naked.” He shrugged. “It was an accident.” “So seeing my wife naked was an accident, but showing up on my doorstep at this hour isn‟t? What‟s got you worked up? Did you get lucky last night?” “Can‟t I stop in and see my favorite cousin and his wife?” “I‟m your only cousin.” “You are?” D.J. questioned innocently. “I must have forgotten.” There was no way D.J. was going to make this easy on his cousin, not after what he‟d gone through when Ellis started dating Camille three years before. There‟d been more phone calls than he liked to remember, and when the couple had broken up for a few weeks, the number of calls had tripled. He shook his head and smiled. Camille was the best thing that had ever happened to his cousin. Now, if he could be as lucky. “You‟re smiling.” The mug in Ellis‟s hand hit the counter with a bang. “You met a guy.” D.J. frowned at the unexpected statement. “What? How‟d you know?” “I said you met a guy. Getting lucky is the only explanation for a sappy smile this early in the morning. I knew getting laid would relax you.” It took all his willpower not to groan. “I met a guy. We didn‟t have sex.” “Excuse me?” Ellis frowned in confusion. “Wasn‟t getting laid the point of driving into Denver last night?” “Yes, it was.” D.J. heaved a long-suffering sigh as he tried to decide what to tell his nosy cousin. For all of five seconds, he thought of telling Ellis to mind his own business but knew he‟d only question, prod, and badger until he got an answer to his question. “Remind me again why I came over here this morning.” “Because I‟m a good listener and will provide you with a cup of good coffee while you spill your guts.”

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“I‟m not too certain about the coffee being good, but you‟ve always been a good listener.” “I don‟t have all morning.” Ellis looked at the clock. “Start talking.” “You‟re a pushy bastard.” “But you love me anyway.” While Ellis sipped his coffee, he waved his hand, suggesting his cousin should start talking. After setting his mug in the sink, D.J. pushed away from the counter and started to pace. “I admit I went to the Batting Cage for a quick hook-up so I could get my rocks off, but I changed my mind after I arrived.” He stopped midstride. “What do you want me to say? I rescued this cute little guy from a big, burly leather wannabe, and we hit it off.” “Define „cute,‟ because I don‟t think I‟ve ever heard you use that particular word when describing a guy.” D.J. glared. “Don‟t be an ass. He‟s about five feet nine and one hundred sixty well-put-together, well-dressed pounds. Coal black hair with just a sprinkling of gray at the temples, and he has a well-trimmed beard and mustache. His eyes are the brightest, clearest green I‟ve ever seen.” “What the hell was he doing at the Batting Cage? He sounds more like a guy you‟d find at a country club.” “I never got the chance to ask.” D.J. pulled out a chair and plopped onto the seat. “Anyway, we ended up at his house. I was walking us to the bedroom when his cell phone went off.” “Don‟t tell me he answered.” “What can I say? It was his daughter‟s ringtone. He‟s a responsible father.” “What?” D.J. arched his eyebrow at the shocked expression on his cousin‟s face. “I didn‟t know your voice could sound as high-pitched as a five-year-old girl‟s. I don‟t know whether I‟m shocked, appalled, or impressed.” “Keep it up, and I‟m going to knock your ass out of that chair.” “Do you want to hear this or not?” Ellis leaned back against the cabinet while flipping him off. “Are you sure he‟s not just bi-curious and using you to test the waters?” He couldn‟t help but grin. “Trust me. I‟m certain.” And D.J. was certain. He might have had a moment of doubt upon discovering Win had a daughter, but it didn‟t last long. Not with the way the other man had humped his thigh before locking both legs around D.J.‟s waist. Not to mention the large precum stain, which necessitated a change of jeans before the men left the house. Oh yeah. He was certain.

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“Are you going to see him again or blow the whole affair off and move on to greener pastures with the next guy who catches your eye?” D.J. snorted in disgust while giving his cousin a scathing look that could have peeled wallpaper off plaster. “Contrary to what you may believe, I‟m not a horndog.” “No, you‟re not, and I apologize, but you don‟t do more than one-night stands either.” “Well, I want to change that,” D.J. mumbled. “Not getting involved might have worked in the past, but I‟m tired of being alone.” When he didn‟t hear a smart-ass comeback, D.J. wasn‟t certain what to think. The silence and the stunned expression on his cousin‟s face took him by surprise. Ellis opened and closed his mouth a couple of times like a beached whale gasping for air, then swallowed so hard his Adam‟s apple bobbed up and down. The other man marched to the desk on the opposite wall and, after rummaging around in the top drawer, grabbed a stubby yellow pencil. “I‟ve got to write this date down on a calendar.” He looked up and grinned. “Hell, I have to tell Camille. She‟s not going to believe it.” “Not going to believe what?” the tall, willowy brunette inquired as she walked into the kitchen. She looked from one man to the other, her gaze settling on her husband. “Are you picking on your cousin again? You should be ashamed of yourself.” “Hey, what‟d I do?” She snorted delicately, flipping a long strand of hair away from her face. “Don‟t try that innocent act with me, Mister. It doesn‟t work. I know you too well.” Seeing the stupid I‟ve-been-caught expression on his cousin‟s face made D.J. grin and then chuckle. “It appears your lovely wife has your number.” Ellis ignored his wife and her hands-on-hips stance, and turned his attention back to his grinning cousin. “Are you going to call him or not?” “Wouldn‟t you like to know?” D.J. turned his attention to Camille. “Thanks for letting Ian stay the night. Is he about ready for school?” “We love spending time with your brother.” Camille smiled at her husband. “Ian may be a teenager, but he‟s good practice for when we have kids of our own.” D.J. pointed at Ellis and laughed. “Cousin, you don‟t look too good. Your color‟s a little green.”

*** It never failed. Never. The one morning Win needed a little peace and quiet to recoup his flagging energy, the office was an out-of-control madhouse, complete with crying, wailing, and gnashing of teeth. He heaved a tired sigh and rubbed his eyes. Fridays were always busy, but this one was more so than usual, as his small patients and their parents prepared for the coming weekend. The office staff was cranky, his patients whiny, and the parents short-tempered, causing him to consider running from the building screaming, never to return. Unlike most days,

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they hadn‟t had a single cancellation. Damn the bad luck. Instead the receptionist had fielded multiple calls begging to get a sick child squeezed into an already tight schedule. Win kicked off his leather shoes, leaned back in his chair, and propped his sock-clad feet on the cluttered desktop. He was so exhausted from his late-night tire-changing fiasco he could barely keep his eyes open, causing him to yawn so wide his jaw ached. He just had to get through the rest of the day, and then he could collapse for a few hours or even all weekend if he wanted. It wasn‟t as if he had any plans for his two days off, and after what had happened the night before, Win doubted he‟d hear from D.J. again. He snagged the brown paper bag from the floor and pulled out his lunch: an extra-large cup of French-roast coffee and a pastrami with Swiss on marbled rye from the little family-run delicatessen down the street. After popping the lid on the cup, Win sipped his coffee, shivering as the surge of caffeine from the triple shot of espresso hit his system. “Ah, perfect.” He took another sip and felt his head clear. “If I mainline this stuff, I can get through the rest of the day without falling on my face.” “Talking to yourself? Isn‟t that an early sign of schizophrenia?” At the sound of Lyndsay‟s voice, Win‟s head snapped up. He saw her smirking smile, flipped her off, and took another sip of his coffee. “I‟m having the day from hell, thank you very much. I‟m entitled to a little schizophrenic rambling and as much caffeine as my body will tolerate.” “You drink too much coffee. It‟s not good for you.” Win decided to ignore her coffee remark since they‟d had the same argument at least once a week since they were in college. It never changed. She thought he drank too much, and he couldn‟t get enough. “What are you doing here? I thought you had jury duty this week.” “They didn‟t want me, which means I get to spend the rest of the afternoon shopping.” The tiny redhead flounced through the open door and plopped onto the couch across the room from Win‟s desk. “So, how did your date go?” Win‟s feet hit the carpet with a dull thud. “There wasn‟t one. I canceled it.” “I still don‟t believe you let Emily set you up.” “The idea was hers,” Win grumbled in frustration. “It seems that since she and Wyatt are blissfully happy—her words, not mine—she‟s gotten it into her dreamy, twenty-year-old head that dear, lonely old Dad should remarry.” Truthfully, after his disastrous fifteen years with Janet, getting married again was the last thought on Win‟s mind. Seeing D.J. again and getting lucky—yes; married—no? It wasn‟t as if he‟d given up on the idea of finding someone to love. He‟d wanted that for years. He just wasn‟t looking for it in someone of the female persuasion. “She loves you and thinks you‟re alone and miserable. She wants you to be happy. You divorced five years ago and need to get on with your life.”

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“Hey, I‟m happy.” Well, mostly. “I‟ve dated since my divorce. Many times. I just haven‟t found anyone I want to see a second time. It‟s not like I‟ve given up on looking.” Which was true. He just wasn‟t looking where his daughter expected. A disbelieving humph was his friend‟s first response, and he looked up in time to see her roll her eyes. “You might not be miserable, but that doesn‟t mean you‟re happy either,” she said in a singsong, we‟ve-already-had-this-conversation tone. “You spend too much time alone or in the office. Would dating a woman Emily picked be so bad?” Win shivered in horror at the suggestion. “Have you seen any of the women she‟s tried to get me involved with? My deluded daughter‟s only selection criteria include unattached, under fifty, which I might remind you is seven years older than me, and breathing.” “It can‟t be that bad.” “Don‟t bet on it,” Win snapped back, remembering the six-feet-tall, redheaded, green-eyed Amazon whom he‟d had a short but miserable date with the week before. “I‟m done with Emily interfering in my life. I‟ve told her to butt out. I only hope she listens this time.” Lyndsay kicked off her heels. She rose to her feet and walked the few steps to Win‟s desk. She snaked her dainty hand in front of his face and plucked half his huge sandwich off its open wrapping. “Are you going to sit there and grumble, or are you going to eat this?” She bit into the sandwich and wiped a smear of spicy mustard off her lip. “Yum. Very tasty.” “I‟m glad you‟re enjoying it.” It always amazed him. Lyndsay was small, almost delicate, but the woman had the appetite of a starving linebacker. He grinned as she took another bite. “You can have half.” Win caught her eyeing his pickle spears. “You can have those too.” “Thanks. So, if you canceled your date with the next Mrs. Morgan, what did you do, and who did you do it with?” She arched an eyebrow and tried to smirk, but failed miserably. “Talk.” “There‟s not much to tell.” Which was a lie from the pit of hell. “I went to a local bar, met someone, and we wound up back at my house.” “And?” she asked hopefully. “And that‟s about it. Before we could go any further, my cell phone rang.” She rolled her eyes. “Please tell me you didn‟t answer it?” “It was Emily‟s ring.” Win shrugged. “I didn‟t have any choice. She was stranded on the highway because of a flat tire.” “Yes, you did. She‟s a grown woman and could have called a tow truck.” After the way Emily had acted, Win almost wished he‟d left her sitting on the side of the road instead of racing to help her. It might have taught her a wellneeded lesson.

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She‟d been happy to see him when he first arrived, and had even helped move her shopping bags, jumper cables, and cat litter to the backseat so he could get to the tire iron, jack, and spare. It was while he‟d been changing the left rear tire that the conversation changed from how glad she was to see him to criticizing him for canceling a date she‟d worked so hard to arrange. A date Win hadn‟t wanted, with a woman he didn‟t like. What had his daughter been thinking? He gritted his teeth at the memory. She hadn‟t been thinking—that was the problem—at least not past the syrupy-sweet vision of him in a tuxedo with the “Wedding March” softly playing in the background. Win slumped down in his chair. “I should have let her call the auto club; I pay enough for the service, but it was dark, and she was alone.” “I can‟t fault you for wanting to keep her safe,” Lyndsay mumbled around the pickle spear she‟d just stuck in her mouth. “You‟re a good father.” “Thanks, I try.” The corners of Win‟s lips curved up at his friend‟s praise. “Hell, if she‟d called the auto club, they might have gotten there before I did.” He was a good father. A father who‟d devoted twenty years to making certain his only child was healthy, happy, emotionally strong, and well cared for. The question was whether he could make his daughter understand she needed to keep her cute little nose out of his private life. “She‟s a lucky young woman.” “Any idea on how I can get Emily to listen to me?” His gaze swept from the picture of Emily sitting on the desk to his friend and confidante. “Any suggestions at all?” Lyndsay pointed at Win with the remains of her pickle. “She‟s an adult, so you might try telling her the truth. Tell her you‟re bisexual and looking for Mr. Right, not Ms. Wrong.”

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Chapter Three Another busy day at the office meant Win felt as if a truck had hit him, and all he wanted was to change into comfortable clothes and have a good meal that included one or more ice-cold beers. Instead he sat in the café of his local bookstore a few miles from his house. Against his better judgment, he waited for Jack‟s younger brother, Grant, whom he hadn‟t seen since the morning of his former lover‟s funeral. When Grant had called around noon to say he was in town for a business seminar and wanted to meet for a few minutes to clear the air, Win was shocked. At first, he‟d declined with the excuse they had nothing to say to each other. They‟d been close once, but having Grant hold him responsible for Jack‟s death made Win uneasy to meet with him. He took a sip of hot cinnamon tea and pulled the J.L. Langley book he‟d bought three weeks before out of his pocket. He‟d been eager to read My Fair Captain since he‟d learned of its release in print, but every time he tried to read a few pages, something interrupted him. Since he was fifteen minutes early for his meeting, now was his chance. Taking a firm grip on his bookmark, Win flipped the book open to page 30, the beginning of Chapter Two, and began reading. He‟d barely managed to get past page 34, where Nate shot Trouble, when his cell phone rang. Win slammed the book onto the table, sloshing hot tea onto the tabletop. “It‟s a conspiracy. I‟m never going to finish this book.” Still grumbling, Win pulled his phone from its holder and flipped up the lid. “What do you want?” “Is that any way to greet a man calling to ask you on a date?” “D.J.?” Of course it is. Who else would it be? He‟d wanted to talk to the man for days, and at his first opportunity, he sounded like an idiot. The man chuckled, the deep sound going straight to Win‟s balls, causing them to draw up tight against his body. “You didn‟t look at the caller ID, did you?” Win heaved a sigh, his tired shoulders drooping. “No, I didn‟t.” “What‟s wrong…busy day?” As much as Win wanted to confess that yes, he‟d been busy all day and wanted nothing more than to collapse on the couch for the rest of the evening, he didn‟t. “Nothing more than usual.” He suddenly perked up. “You said something about a date?”

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“I wondered if you‟d caught that.” He grinned at the smile in D.J.‟s voice. “What did you have in mind, stud?” “I was thinking miniature golf, followed by pizza and beer.” It was hard keeping the excitement out of his voice. “That sounds like fun. The last time I played miniature golf was with Emily and six of her friends at her tenthbirthday party.” The memory made him chuckle. “The girls had a great time, but I should‟ve asked another parent to go along. It was too much for one adult alone.” “I can imagine. So, that means avoiding groups of giggling little girls.” “Yes, please.” He looked up and saw a tall, thin man walking in his direction. “When is this date taking place?” “Tonight, if you‟re free. How about I pick you up at seven?” “That should work.” Win looked at his watch. “You remember my telling you about my ex-boyfriend, Jack? His younger brother‟s in town and wants to meet for a few minutes to catch up. He should be here any second. Can we meet at the bookstore instead of at my house?” The silence on the other end of the phone line was deafening. “D.J.?” Nothing. “D.J., are you there?” He shouldn‟t have mentioned one man when agreeing to a date with another. “It‟s a meeting, not a date.” The voice on the other end came across with a snap. “I‟ll see you in ninety minutes.” Just as the call ended, the man he‟d seen crossing the room stopped at his table. “Win?” The shock of seeing Grant up close would have knocked him to his knees if he‟d been standing. Win shoved back his chair and lurched to his feet. “I‟d forgotten how much you look like your brother.” A smile broke over Grant‟s face as the men shook hands. “I know.” Grant turned toward the crowded counter. “Let me get a coffee, and I‟ll be right back.” “Sure. Take your time.” Win needed every minute to get his pounding heart under control. Grant didn‟t just resemble his brother; it was like looking at a Jack clone. Even their mannerisms were the same. As he watched Grant join five other people at the busy counter, Win sank into his chair, certain meeting Jack‟s brother had been a huge mistake and wondering how fast he could leave without looking like an idiot. His cell phone beeped with a text message, and he jerked, almost dropping his book. After pulling out the phone, he held it up to read the screen. Sorry I snapped. With a limited skill at texting, Win took his time with the reply. You’re a nut! Grant was standing at the register, a venti cup in one hand and a brownie in the other, when Win‟s phone beeped again. Territorial. Don’t share.

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D.J.‟s text surprised Win, and his eyebrows shot up so far they nearly disappeared in his hairline. Interesting. The big man didn‟t like to share. Me either. Talk details tonight. The reply from D.J. came quickly. Want more. Work in fun, beer, and sex! Win grinned. The man was going to make him crazy. Count me in. “Sorry about that,” Grant said as he slid into the other chair. “I didn‟t have lunch.” He looked down at his brownie. “I‟m sorry. I should have asked if you wanted anything.” Win shook his head. “No, that‟s fine. Eat. I have a date in a little while.” The fork Grant held dropped to the floor as he zeroed in on Win‟s bare left ring finger. “What happened to your wife?” He could see the questions flashing across the now-pale, strained face on the other side of the table. “We divorced five years ago, after I caught her in bed with another man.” “I want to ask whether you‟re involved with a man or a woman, but it isn‟t any of my business and it‟s not why I came here today.” “It‟s a man, and why did you want to meet me? We haven‟t talked in years.” “That‟s why I called when I got into town.” Grant threaded his fingers together, his snack and drink forgotten. “I‟m sorry for all the terrible things I screamed at you after Jack died and for my meltdown during the funeral. I interrupted the service and made a terrible scene.” “Grant, you scared the crap out of the entire congregation, punched me in the face, and knocked me into the casket,” Win said before he could stop himself. “Your uncle had to pull you off me.” “I know. I know. I went a little crazy that morning.” “Crazy.” Win was rendered speechless for a few seconds. “Have you forgotten that the police hauled you away in cuffs while you screamed obscenities that would have made a sailor blush?” He peered at the area around their table to make certain no one was sitting close enough to hear. “You spent three days in a damn psych ward.” “How could I forget? The episode‟s burned into my brain. I embarrassed my family so badly, my parents couldn‟t face their friends for weeks.” “That‟s not a surprise. I saw your parents‟ faces. They were horrified.” “I acted like an out-of-control jerk and shouldn‟t have hit you.” “You‟re right, the scuffle shouldn‟t have happened. But…” Win held up a finger when Grant opened his mouth to interrupt. “But you were also young, upset, and angry because your only brother was dead. I don‟t condone what you did, but I understand that I was the easy target to blame.” “It took me years of therapy to accept that you weren‟t the cause of Jack‟s death. My brother decided to end his life. He‟s the one who slit his wrists, not you. Him. Can you forgive me, Win? Can we be friends again?”

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You could call him an easy touch, but Win was a sucker for sincerity mixed with a few tears. “Of course I forgive you.” He squeezed Grant‟s hand. “Jack would want me to. He loved you. I‟d like us to be friends.” “Thank you.” He grinned. “Let me get another fork.” Feeling emotionally drained, Win slumped in his seat and watched Grant walk away. He sipped his coffee, thinking how oddly the day was ending. Well, not ending, at least not yet, since he had a hot date later. When was the last time he‟d had a date he could consider hot? He couldn‟t even remember. His cell phone beeped again. Meeting over? Countdown. Thirty minutes till date. Had he and Grant been talking for over an hour? It didn‟t seem possible. He glanced at the time. Yes, they had. Win texted back, his speed increasing with practice. UR a nut. Almost done. In café. C U soon. He grinned and closed the phone. After placing the phone back in its holder, he saw Grant approaching. “Are you okay?” he asked as the other man resumed his seat. “You look a little green around the gills.” “Don‟t go all doctorish on me. I‟m fine.” Win smiled at Grant‟s expression. “You don‟t look fine. You look like you want to puke.” “I already did that today—several times. I was afraid you wouldn‟t forgive me.” “All you had to do was ask.” Grant reached inside his jacket pocket and pulled out a small card. “This has both my home and cell phone numbers on it.” He laid the card on the table and slid it across to Win. “I‟d like for us to stay in contact, and when I come back to town next month we can get together for dinner. I‟d like to meet your man.”

*** “Leave the blindfold in place.” D.J. slapped Win‟s hands away from his face. “Patience. We‟re almost there.” “How much longer?” Win heaved an exasperated sigh. “You‟re just lucky I don‟t get carsick.” “I didn‟t even consider motion sickness when I decided to use the blindfold. It‟s more a fun item for the bedroom, if you have the right partner.” Even though he was unable to see, Win swiveled his head toward D.J.‟s voice. “The things that come out of your mouth amaze me.” “How do you feel about being blindfolded and tied to the bed?” D.J. turned right and pulled into a parking slot. “Would that be a bedroom activity you‟d be interested in trying?” “Maybe,” Win admitted. “I‟d have to think about it.”

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“We‟re here.” D.J. reached across the stick shift and untied the cloth that covered Win‟s eyes. He mentally crossed his fingers. “What do you think?” Win squinted, blinked and rubbed his eyes, and D.J. could tell by Win‟s sudden smile that he‟d seen the colorful sign on the front of the building. “I don‟t believe it. You were serious about the miniature golf. I thought you were kidding. It sounds like fun.” D.J. couldn‟t keep the goofy smile off his face. He‟d never been on a date before, so Win being thrilled with his selection made him feel good. “I‟m a pretty straightforward kind of guy, and you seemed excited about playing miniature golf when we talked about it. I haven‟t played since I was a kid, so you‟ll have to go easy on me.” “Right. Not going to happen.” Win unbuckled his seat belt. “You‟re probably some kind of marksman. There will be no going easy on you, Mister. When it comes to winning at this game, it‟s all-out war. Every man for himself.” Both men climbed out of the car and slammed their doors. Win was almost bouncing with barely contained excitement. D.J. had never imaged a man who looked as wealthy and successful as Win would get so much pleasure out of the prospect of playing a silly outdoor kids‟ game. It was unexpected, refreshing, and even a little hot. When they reached the entrance, D.J. paid the fee. They grabbed their clubs and headed outside. “Now remember to go easy on me. You may not have played for years, but you still have more experience at this game than I do.” “Give it a rest, stud. I play to win.” They dodged a group of six girls, the smallest of whom was arguing with her mother about the color of her club, and managed to get to the first green as the kids surged out of the building and onto the course. “Take your shot.” D.J. looked over his shoulder. “If you don‟t hurry, we‟re going to be surrounded by giggling girls.” “No way.” Win putted. The ball rolled smoothly along the artificial grass, through two sets of hoops, past a twirling windmill blade, and stopped two feet from the hole. “Top that.” D.J. growled, the confident, sexy grin on Win‟s face making his cock start to fill, “Show off.” He lined up his first shot. “This is war. May the best man be victorious.”

*** It didn‟t appear Win was going to volunteer any information about his earlier meeting, so D.J. knew he‟d have to ask, even if it did make him look pushy. “How‟d it go with Jack‟s brother?”

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“His name‟s Grant, and it went well. We were able to mend fences and he wants to keep in contact.” Win grinned and nudged D.J.‟s ankle. “He wants to meet us for dinner the next time he comes to town.” “He does?” That was unexpected. “I think you‟ll like him.” “Hmm.” D.J. knew his mind was wandering away from their conversation but suddenly he couldn‟t concentrate, not with Win‟s foot running up and down his calf. He gazed across their corner table, his chin resting on his upturned hand. There was little doubt he looked like a lovesick sap, but he couldn‟t keep his eyes off Win. Everything about the man fascinated him: his bright green eyes, his hands, and his mouth. Oh God, his mouth. The plump lips D.J. wanted wrapped around his cock. What a mental visual. “You‟re staring.” Win swiped a napkin across his mouth. “Do I have pizza sauce on my face?” “No. I was thinking what a healthy appetite you‟ve got for someone your size.” Win grinned and picked up his beer. “I don‟t believe you. What were you thinking?” Leaning forward, D.J. dropped his voice to a whisper. “How good your hot mouth would feel around my dick.” A sharp intake of air and Win choked, coughing from an inhaled mouthful of beer. He struck his chest with a fist, his eyes tearing as he gasped for air. “Asshole. Are you trying to kill me?” he sputtered. In a flash, D.J. stood behind him, pounding on his back. “Of course not. Are you all right?” He coughed again. “Do I sound all right?” “You sound like a man who sucked down a lungful of beer.” “Prick.” D.J. leaned down to whisper in Win‟s ear. “Talking about my prick caused this little problem.” That comment earned him a cough and a tiny grin. “You are nothing but trouble.” “Let me get you back to your house, and I‟ll show you trouble.” A shiver racked Win‟s smaller body, making D.J. wish they were somewhere private instead of inside his soon-to-be lover‟s favorite pizza place. He looked at his watch and wondered how long it would take to pay their bill and drive to Win‟s house halfway across town. Being in public with the man for hours and unable to touch him was driving D.J. crazy, and it was getting worse as the evening progressed. Win moved closer. “Please tell me you stopped and bought supplies.” “I have all the stuff we‟ll need.”

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“Then let‟s pay our bill and get the hell out of here.” Win scanned the room for their waiter. “I think I hear my big bed calling our names.” “I‟d like nothing better,” D.J. agreed, “but before we go, I think we need to talk about a couple of things first, so there isn‟t any confusion.” “Such as?” “How do you feel about dating more than one man at a time? Is that something you‟d be interested in doing, because I don‟t share. At least not you.” Win‟s mouth dropped open, and his eyes narrowed. “Are you saying that I can‟t date anyone else while we‟re seeing each other?” D.J. knew by the pinched expression on Win‟s face that he‟d blown it. His domineering and possessive streak had already bitten him in the ass and pissed his date off, so there wasn‟t any reason not to tell the truth. “That‟s exactly what I‟m saying. I don‟t share, and if that‟s what you‟re looking for, I think we should probably call it quits before we go any further.” “Okay.” “Okay what? You agree not to see anyone else, or we call it quits now?” Win threw his wadded-up napkin at D.J.‟s head. “Don‟t be dense. I agree not to see anyone else while we‟re dating, so long as you agree to the same condition.” “I agree.” D.J. winked and reached across the table to shake Win‟s hand. Win saw their waiter approaching. “Check, please.” After coming to an agreement, the wait to pay for their pizza and beer were the longest minutes of D.J.‟s life, and the short drive back to pick up Win‟s vehicle wasn‟t any better. The traffic was heavier than usual; they passed a fender bender where two police officers had cars pulled off to the side of the road, and even managed to hit every red light. By the time the two vehicles pulled up Win‟s driveway, D.J. was ready to snarl with frustration. His blood pounded, his cock throbbed, and the need to plunge into Win‟s body was so strong, D.J. knew he needed to stay away from Win until he could gain more control. He waited, his fingers drumming on the steering wheel while Win pulled his SUV into the garage and climbed out. As soon as Win moved aside, D.J. pulled his truck into the second parking space. Trying to tamp down the lust threatening his ragged control, D.J. inhaled deeply and pressed hard against his erection, willing it into submission. He planned to spend hours driving Win crazy with his lips and hands, and blowing his load like an untried schoolboy wasn‟t how he wanted their date to end. He grabbed the bag of condoms and lube sitting on the floorboard and climbed out of the truck. “Come on, stud. Let‟s go inside.” “Right behind you, Win. Right behind you.” The door opened into a dimly lit kitchen and had no more than closed behind them, when Win shoved D.J. against the door frame. Win‟s smaller chest pressed hard against his; those lips that made him crazy nibbled at the soft skin at the base

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of his throat. At the same time, warm hands snaked under his shirt, blunt nails digging into skin, sending chills racing up his spine. Hot, pulsing blood pooled in his groin, his already hard cock growing tight, almost painful. “I had a great time at the miniature golf place,” Win said between nibbles. D.J. groaned and arched his neck, giving his lover better access. “I‟d hoped you wouldn‟t think it was a lame first date.” “I loved it,” Win said right before running his tongue up under D.J.‟s ear. “The night air was cool and crisp, I won both games, and you even protected me from the hordes of screaming children and their parents.” “I told you I‟d keep giggling kids away from you.” D.J. moaned and thrust his hips at the sensation of Win sucking up a bruise on his neck. Marking him. “You‟re going to make me blow before we even get to the bedroom.” A final swipe of his tongue and Win stepped back. “No coming until your cock is buried in my ass.” D.J. grabbed the other man‟s wrist and jerked him back into his arms. “Are you trying to drive me crazy?” Win grinned up at him. “Perhaps. Is it working?” He pulled back enough to look D.J. in the eyes. “I‟m too old for sex on the kitchen floor. We need to move this upstairs.” “Bossy man. I think you might need to have your ass spanked.” His eyes grew wide at the threat. “You wouldn‟t dare.” D.J. slapped Win on the ass, causing him to jump. “Don‟t tempt me. Now get your sexy little butt upstairs before I‟m forced to put you over my knee.” Seconds passed as the two men stared at each other. Then Win crooked his finger in invitation, but before D.J. could take more than a step, Win turned and headed for a doorway that led to the other parts of the house. As he walked from the room, he stripped off articles of clothing and dropped them on the floor or on pieces of furniture as he walked by. Win looked over his shoulder. “Am I getting naked alone, or are you going to join me?” “Both of us naked, now.” The word now was still echoing in the room when Win took off up the stairs at a brisk trot. D.J. followed at a less hurried pace. When he stopped at the open bedroom door, he found Win in the middle of his intricately carved four-poster bed, without a stitch of clothes on, propped up on his elbows, and with his legs spread. “You‟re still dressed. What‟s the matter?” Win suddenly looked uncertain. “What‟s taking you so long?” “Just enjoying the view.” Which was exactly what D.J. was doing as he stared at his new lover— enjoying the erotic view. Lickable pale skin spread wantonly over dark blue sheets, well-shaped fingers wrapped around a swollen, leaking dick, and pupils blown so

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wide with lust, he couldn‟t see the green any longer. The smaller man was willing, ready, and laid out like a luscious, all-you-can-eat buffet just waiting to be devoured, one delicious bite at a time. And D.J. was like a starving man at a feast. Win chewed on his lower lip. “Hurry up. Get naked.” Moving closer, D.J. tossed the brown bag containing their supplies on the bed next to Win‟s hip. “Pushy bottom.” “Can‟t help it,” Win panted. D.J. groaned, his cock rising and filling, getting longer and harder as he watched Win. Willpower alone kept him rooted in place instead of leaping onto Win‟s naked body while he was fully clothed. Win watched, his eyes growing wild as D.J. put on a show, slipping each button through its tiny hole, flexing and rippling his muscles as he opened and removed his shirt. By the time D.J. had toed off his shoes, pulled off his socks, and gotten rid of his last piece of clothing, Win was almost vibrating off the bed, clutching the sheets under him. Each moan, groan, pant, and shiver coming from Win pushed D.J.‟s lust a notch higher. The need to mark his writhing lover, to claim him, to let any man who got close to Win know he had a lover and was taken consumed D.J.‟s thoughts. Still standing at the foot of the bed, D.J. fisted his cock and rubbed the precum over his already painful shaft. “I could just eat you right up.” “Yes, please.” D.J. chuckled. “Aren‟t you the polite one?” “Would you rather I said get your ass in bed and fuck me before I go crazy?” After he‟d climbed over the footboard, D.J. settled between Win‟s spread legs, shoving them farther apart with his shoulders. He inhaled deeply and caught the faint scent of sandalwood soap mixed with the toe-curling aroma of musky, aroused man. D.J. cupped Win‟s lightly furred balls, rolling them gently across his palm, smiling at Win‟s soft moans. He tapped Win‟s hip. “Hand me the lube.” Leaning closer, D.J. sucked one ball and then the other, enjoying the warm weight resting on his tongue. At least until a cold plastic tube flew over Win‟s knee and hit D.J. on the head. The ball he was sucking on popped out of his mouth. “Are you trying to blind me?” “Not if it‟s going to delay having you fuck me.” Win shivered and moaned. “Please, D.J.” Easing away from Win‟s balls, D.J. ran a damp finger over the soft, warm skin of his lover‟s perineum and chuckled at the full-body shiver that rattled the bed. “What do you want?” Win moaned. “I want you to fuck me into the mattress.” There was no need to ask twice. Rising to his knees, D.J. grabbed the lube and squirted a glob onto his fingers. He reached under Win‟s balls and used a fingertip

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to brush over the dark pink puckered skin, which turned his lover into a babbling puddle of goo. After he added more lube, he breached the first ring of muscle, moving his finger around in slow, gentle circles to relax the flesh, while he watched Win‟s face for any sign of pain or distress. By the time D.J. had inserted the second finger, Win was panting, thrusting back against the digit invading the tender channel, and D.J. was so hard he had to grip the base of his cock to keep from losing it. He pushed his finger in twice more, a little rougher, each inward thrust grazing the little lump of flesh guaranteed to send his lover flying. “What the hell?” D.J. frowned, but left his fingers in Win‟s ass. Win popped his head up from the pillow. “Why‟d you stop? What‟s wrong?” “I thought you said you hadn‟t been with a man in twenty years?” “You think I lied to you?” “Maybe.” D.J. knew it was crude, but couldn‟t stop the caustic words that spilled from his lips. “Would you like to explain why your ass isn‟t tighter?” “Don‟t tell me you‟re jealous.” A bright red flush crept from Win‟s chest to his face. “There might not have been any men in my life, but that doesn‟t mean I haven‟t had anything up my ass.” He nodded toward the nightstand. “The top drawer holds my collection of toys.” Toys? The man has toys? Who would have thought? “That still doesn‟t explain…” Win groaned. “I kept wondering what it would feel like to have your cock up my ass, so a few days ago, I drove to Denver to buy a plug I imagined was about the size of your dick. I put it in this morning and took it out before I left the office to meet Grant.” He heaved an exasperated sigh. “That‟s why I‟m stretched.” D.J. saw the pain on his lover‟s face and felt like a judgmental asshole. “I‟m sorry. I can‟t stand the thought of you with another man. Can you forgive me for jumping to conclusions? I shouldn‟t have doubted you.” “Well, don‟t do it again.” “Gotcha. No doubting.” He winked and leaned closer. “I like the idea of you wearing a plug for me.” An accidental flex of D.J.‟s finger against Win‟s prostate and the man howled and bucked. “Oh my God. Forget the plug and do that again.” He squeezed D.J.‟s wrist. “No. No. Fuck me.” “Are you sure you‟re ready?” D.J.‟s voice sounded strained, his lust ratcheting sky-high as he thought of his lover wearing a plug all day. That Win had primed his ass for D.J.‟s dick. “Please say you‟re ready for me to fuck you.” “Oh yes.” D.J. plucked a condom off the bedspread, fumbled with the wrinkled foil packet, and finally got it open and stretched over his aching shaft. He squirted a glob of lube into his palm, slathered it over his dick, and slid closer, the swollen

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head resting against Win‟s twitching rosette. As his lover pushed out, he pressed in, one agonizingly slow inch at a time, until his groin rested against Win‟s ass. He gritted his teeth. “Shit. Although stretched by the plug, D.J. couldn‟t chance hurting Win, so he held still, even though the need to move, to thrust, was killing him. Finally, when D.J. thought he couldn‟t remain immobile another second without losing his mind, Win gripped his hand. “You can move. Go. Do it.” Win slid his legs up high on D.J.‟s sides, clasped his ankles together, and pulled his lover closer. At the same time, D.J. grasped Win‟s hips in a brutal grip guaranteed to leave him black-and-blue. They moved together. Each thrust and withdrawal mixed with grunts and moans, the primal sounds filling the room and echoing off the walls. D.J. stared, never taking his eyes off the object of his lust. Sweat beaded across his forehead and dripped to land on Win‟s heaving chest. They advanced and retreated as one, the fast, desperate rhythm shaking the bed, pounding the heavy wooden headboard against the wall. Seconds later, D.J. shifted positions, and suddenly every muscle in his body seemed to tenses. “Win.” He threw back his head and slammed in deep, then flooded the condom with seed. The warmth pushed his lover over the edge into his own shuddering climax; his cock spewed long, thick streams of cum over their stomachs and chests. After his breathing had smoothed, D.J. grasped the condom and slid free. He tied off the end, dropped it into the trash can, and collapsed onto the bed next to Win. The blissful and contented expression on his lover‟s face said it all, but he asked anyway. “Did I hurt you? Was I too rough?” “Wow! Can we do that again later?”

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Chapter Four “Who the hell could be calling so early?” Win grumbled as the phone next to the bed rang. He opened his eyes, then slammed them shut as the sunlight streaming in through the partly open window shade blinded him. He slapped his hand over his eyes and reached for the phone. “Watch the elbow. I need that body part.” Win cringed, stopping midreach. “Sorry, I didn‟t realize I was sleeping on you.” D.J. chuckled and wrapped his arms around Win‟s waist. “You‟re a sound sleeper. You didn‟t wake when you rolled across me at three this morning.” He groaned and hung his head. “Sorry—” “Nothing to be sorry about,” D.J. interrupted. “It‟s actually kind of cute.” Cute. The handsome hunk in bed with him had called him cute. Was that good, bad, or somewhere in between? Win frowned as he reached for the phone again. He was forty-three years old. Could a man his age be cute? Somehow he didn‟t think so. Not with his lean build and pale complexion. At least his mustache and beard hid part of his face, but his neck and ears remained visible when he turned beet red every time someone embarrassed him. A sharp slap landed on his ass, causing him to yelp and jump. “Stop thinking so hard and answer the phone. Then we can play for a while or take a shower together.” The idea of a shower perked up Win‟s cock; it started to fill, which only caused D.J. to chuckle harder. “Horndog.” How did he respond to D.J.‟s comment without sounding like a slut? He couldn‟t, so he picked up the phone instead. “Hello?” “You need to rein in Emily. She‟s spending too much money on her wedding.” Hearing the voice of his ex-wife caused Win to bristle with irritation. “Janet, what the hell is wrong with you?” He peered over D.J.‟s shoulder at the clock. “It‟s not even eight yet.” “I wanted to catch you before you went into the office.” Win gritted his teeth to keep from snarling. He didn‟t like Janet, and he‟d certainly never loved the woman, but for their daughter, he tried to keep the peace. He was doing his best not to fight with her until after the wedding, if he didn‟t kill her first.

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He heaved a sigh and settled in for another heated chat about Emily‟s wedding and how much it was costing. “Why does Emily need reining in, and more importantly, why are you calling me about it? She‟s your daughter too. You might try talking to her if you‟re having a problem with the amount of money she‟s spending.” “I‟ve tried several times, but she hasn‟t taken the hint.” “Don‟t hint. Tell her she needs to revise her plans and consult you about future expenses.” “I can‟t do that. She‟s too excited,” his ex-wife whined. “I don‟t want to upset her.” “You just don‟t want to be the bad guy who pisses her off. Well, if you think I‟m going to be the heavy in this wedding mess, you‟re crazy,” he snapped. “I told you to put a limit on how much she could spend, but no, instead, you told her she could do whatever she wanted. I suggest you either live with the expenses or tell her to cut costs. Either way, it doesn‟t concern me. I‟m paying for a three-week honeymoon in Italy. The wedding is your problem.” “Do you have any idea how much she‟s already spent?” Win was so angry he was afraid his head would explode. It was always the same with Janet. It was fine if she spent thousands of dollars on something she wanted, but if it was someone else, even her only child, she turned into a tightfisted miser. It wasn‟t as if she couldn‟t afford every penny Emily was spending and much more. The woman had inherited millions when they‟d gotten married, and had made millions more since, with wise investments. She had more money than she‟d ever be able to spend, yet a few thousand still worried her. “I don‟t care. It‟s not as if you can‟t afford it.” Win laid his cheek on D.J.‟s chest and felt D.J. kneading the taut muscles in his shoulders. He looked up and mouthed thank you, then shivered as one hand strayed over his back and slid down his side to his ass. The slow, rhythmic caresses up and down his crack caused his cock to take notice. He opened his legs in invitation as warm fingers stroked over his balls. As an invading finger pushed past the first ring of muscle, he shoved back against D.J.‟s hand and whimpered into the mouthpiece. “Winston, what was that noise? Are you ill?” A shiver raced up Win‟s spine as D.J.‟s thick finger moved slowly in and out of his hole, and he popped his head up as a knuckle brushed over his prostate. He thrust his hips, rubbing his erect cock against the muscular thigh under him. “You are in so much trouble,” he whispered as the finger grazed his prostate again. D.J. chuckled. “Promises, promises.” The finger continued to drive him out of his mind as he struggled to put together two connected thoughts. “I‟m fine, Janet. There‟s nothing for you to worry about.” He‟d just gotten those words out when D.J. inserted a second digit and the

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strokes picked up speed. He groaned loud and long, shuddering as his balls drew up tight against his ass. “Do that again.” “What the hell is going on?” Janet yelled. Win couldn‟t keep his eyes open. He could only feel as a third finger joined the others stretching his puckered flesh. He bucked his ass back, trying to get more friction where he needed it. “You‟re making me crazy.” “What are you talking about? I‟ve haven‟t done anything.” “Not you, Janet.” Win groaned again, then started to pant. A light tap on his hip and D.J. slipped out from under him. Win watched as his lover grabbed a condom and tore open the foil packet. “If you don‟t want to give her an earful, get off the phone.” His eyes popped open when he realized D.J. intended to fuck him while he was still talking with his ex-wife. Win pulled his attention away from the man kneeling behind him and back to the woman babbling on the phone line. “Janet, don‟t call this early again unless it‟s a true emergency. I have a life that doesn‟t revolve around you, what you want, or the bastard you married.” D.J. slicked up his cock and rested it against Win‟s spasming hole. “I‟m done waiting, Win. Say good-bye. Now.” No sooner were the words “good-bye, Janet” out of Win‟s mouth than a warm, wet tongue ran up his spine. He dropped the phone on the bed, then pressed back, trying to impale his ass on D.J.‟s cock, and when the cock he needed pulled away, he was ready to beg. “Do something. I need you inside me.” Win reached behind him to grasp D.J.‟s knee. “Please, please fuck me.” D.J. ran his hands up and down Win‟s back. He reached around to twist his lover‟s nipples. His voice took on a deep and harsh edge. “How do you want it? Slow and gentle?” He flexed his hips and slammed inside, all the way to the root. “Or hard and fast?” Win screamed. Every nerve ending in his body was on overload as pain and pleasure flew up his spine at the speed of light. His mind was on fire, and his vision blurred, the edges turning black. “I don‟t care,” he snapped. “Just fuck me!” “Then hard and fast it is.” D.J. began a fast, pounding rhythm; he thrust in and out, his cock making a relentless invasion, as Win whimpered and moaned. Each deep stroke pushed Win farther up the bed until he had to rest his palms against the headboard. It also gave him the leverage he needed to flex, to shove back in time to each of D.J.‟s brutally hard thrusts. “Yes, yes. I need—” “Did you say I needed to slow down?” Win gritted his teeth and tried to hurry the speed by slamming back against D.J.‟s groin. “You son of a bitch, stop teasing me.” “Okay.” He gripped Win‟s hips. “Not teasing,” D.J. growled. “Not going to last much longer either.”

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D.J. continued to thrust as he reached around to grasp Win‟s throbbing cock, jerking in time with each stroke. “Come for me, Win. Give it to me.” Less than a dozen strokes later, D.J. clamped his teeth onto Win‟s shoulder hard enough to draw blood. He stiffened and emptied his seed into the condom. They sucked air into their lungs like billows, and Win felt sweat droplets fall from D.J.‟s face onto his damp back. Win‟s arms trembled as he struggled to keep from collapsing under D.J.‟s weight. “Fuck it!” And down he went. It was official. D.J. and sex equaled an addiction he was thrilled he‟d found, and didn‟t plan to give up. Win shuddered as he realized being with D.J. made him happier than he‟d been in years. Since the last time he‟d been with Jack, the morning his life had changed forever. Before Janet had shown up on his doorstep and dropped her pregnancy bombshell. He loved Emily—he did—but discovering he was going to be a father had changed his life in ways he had never imagined. Instead of having a lover and partner, he‟d gotten a cold and calculating wife who didn‟t care if he lived or died. As long as she could shop, play, party, and travel with her friends and family, she‟d essentially left him to raise Emily alone, for months on end. D.J. kissed his neck with soft lips and ran his strong hands down Win‟s arms to briefly intertwine their fingers. “Win, you‟re going to hurt yourself thinking so hard.” D.J. slipped his softening cock free, disposed of the condom in the wastebasket sitting next to the desk, and slid back into bed before spooning his lover against his chest. “Tell me what‟s wrong.” Win turned his head so he could look at D.J.‟s face. “Nothing‟s wrong per se.” He reached back to touch D.J.‟s face. “Were you serious about last night being our first date?” “Very serious. I thought I‟d been clear last night that I wanted to continue seeing you, that we should date, which is something I‟ve never done before.” He leaned down to nibble Win‟s lips. “I might not be any good at it, but I‟d like to try.” “That‟s what I want too. Hell, I might not be good at dating either—but I‟d like to try.”

*** Meeting Emily for lunch at Win‟s favorite restaurant sounded like a great idea, until he almost fell asleep at the table waiting for her to arrive. Instead, he could have skipped lunch, curled up on the comfortable leather couch in his office, and taken a short nap to recharge his batteries. It wasn‟t as if he was twenty years old any longer and could stay up all night without paying the price the next day. Spending the night with D.J. had been worth every sleepless minute of his night, and he didn‟t regret a second of their time together. What Win needed was a mainline infusion of caffeine inserted straight into his jugular, not the weak iced tea with lemon the restaurant served. He shook his head as the image of a naked D.J. popped into his mind. Damn, but the man was a genuine hunk. As much as he‟d loved Jack, even he hadn‟t measured up to D.J. in

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the looks department. Win yawned wide and rubbed his eyes. Yeah, he should have ordered a triple-shot espresso instead of the tea. Win looked at his watch and groaned. Emily was late as usual, and if she didn‟t arrive soon, he wouldn‟t get lunch. He picked up his glass to take a sip, when he saw his daughter walk through the front entrance. After setting down his drink, he stood and signaled; his frown was replaced by a small smile when she waved back. He had some regrets in his life. Emily wasn‟t one of them. She‟d been an adorable child and a frustrating teenager but had turned into a loving and beautiful young woman. He couldn‟t ask for more, except for her to have a happy life and for her and Wyatt to give him a couple of grandchildren to spoil. When the word grandchildren flashed through his mind, Win zeroed in on her still-flat stomach, and his shoulders relaxed. At least he hadn‟t had a teenage pregnancy to worry about like so many of the other parents he knew. When Emily got to the table, he pulled out her chair and kissed her cheek. “How‟s my girl?” “I‟m fine, Daddy.” She looked at his face as she took her seat. “You, on the other hand, seem a little tired. Didn‟t you sleep well?” Win sank onto his chair. Did he have a sign on his forehead that said D.J. had fucked him within an inch of his life? Damn, he hoped his face wasn‟t red. “Why do you ask?” “I talked to your neighbor this morning,” Emily said. She opened her napkin and placed it across her lap. “She saw a black truck with tinted windows pull out of your garage at nine this morning.” Win slammed his mouth shut and narrowed his eyes. Emily leaned closer. “Tell me, Dad. Who is she? Do I know her? How did you meet her? Have you known her long? How old is she? Does she have kids?” Win‟s mind reeled under the onslaught of questions he was not going to answer. He held up his hand and waited until she stopped talking. “Emily, I love you, but who I date isn‟t any of your business, and I‟m not going to discuss it with you.” “Why not? It‟s not like I asked if you had sex.” “What did you say?” Her eyes got big, and a grin broke over her face. She pointed across the table. “You did have sex,” she whispered, “or you wouldn‟t have that horrified look on your face. Dad, you‟re a hound.” Talking about sex with his daughter was something he‟d never been comfortable with, which accounted for Lyndsay being the adult who‟d explained the birds and the bees to Emily when she‟d turned thirteen. It wasn‟t as if her mother had been around to do the job. He also wasn‟t telling her his lover was male and that he‟d experienced the best sex of his life with what had started as a gay bar pick-up.

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“Emily Marie Morgan, this conversation is over,” Win snapped. “We have always been close, but I‟m not one of your friends. I‟m your father, and I demand that you respect my privacy. I know you mean well, and I hope you‟re only kidding around, but I won‟t talk to you about my sex life. Do I make myself clear?” She sniffled and wiped her nose. “Daddy, I want you to be happy. If you like her, I will too.” Win wanted to believe her and hoped Emily remembered her claim when she discovered the sex of his lover.

*** After a month of emergency leave, putting on a uniform and reporting to his new duty station at Fort Carson was like walking into another world for D.J. One that now felt alien, foreign, as if his skin had become too tight and uncomfortable. He wanted to say that his change of heart was because of his brother, but he knew that excuse wasn‟t the entire truth. The other truth was that hiding his sexuality and living a lie made him tired, angry, and lonely. The US Government policy commonly known as “don‟t ask, don‟t tell,” which banned openly gay individuals from serving in the military, had been demeaning and discriminatory from the beginning. It wasn‟t fair that straights could love and marry who they pleased, and at the age of thirty-two, D.J. wanted the same chance at a loving, monogamous relationship. As sad as it was, even with the new stopgap measures in place and policy change on the horizon, Congress could still decide to leave the old regulations in place. There wasn‟t any guarantee. Even if the ban was repealed, it might be a year or more before the changes went into effect. D.J. shook his head and kept walking, following the signs down a series of hallways until he found the office of his new commanding officer. He rapped on the door frame and walked inside. He waited until the clerk behind the desk looked up. “I‟m Captain Damien Faulkner.” D.J. held out his papers. “I have an appointment with Major Collins at two.” The clerk took the papers and nodded toward the door on the opposite wall. “You can go in, sir. He‟s expecting you.” D.J. walked through the door and stopped in front of the large desk that dominated the room. He stood at attention and saluted. “Sir, Captain Damien Faulkner reporting as ordered.” The major turned from his computer screen. “At ease, Captain.” “Thank you, sir.” The major leaned back in his chair. “I spoke with your commanding officer at Fort Bragg last week. Major Nelson was positively glowing in his praise of you and your talents.” “Thank you, sir.” D.J. hadn‟t expected that since he and Nelson had butted heads often in his two years stationed at Fort Bragg.

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“Have a seat, Captain.” Major Collins picked up a file and flipped it open. “I was looking at your service record this morning, and I have to say it‟s impressive. Graduating West Point second in your class means you‟re not only intelligent, but an outstanding officer, likely headed for promotion in the years to come.” “Thank you, sir. It was always my intent to retire from the army.” “Is that no longer your plan?” D.J. stared across the desk and saw only sincerity, so even though it might not have been the wisest choice, he decided to tell the truth. “The deaths of my mother and stepfather last month have forced several unexpected changes in my life, including a crash course in what it takes to be a good parent. They‟ve also shown me that my brother, Ian, and what‟s best for him have to be my first priorities.” “I take it you don‟t believe you can care for your brother and remain in the army?” “No, sir. I don‟t.” “What about rest of your family? Is there anyone who could help out?” “My family options are limited. My stepfather‟s parents died years ago, and my maternal grandparents are both in their midseventies. I can‟t and wouldn‟t ask them to take over the care of a thirteen-year-old boy who is heading into adolescence when I‟m able to do it myself.” D.J. leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees. “My cousin and his wife live nearby and are good backups when needed, but Ian is my responsibility, and I won‟t turn my back on him. I have to think of what‟s best for him. He‟s already lost his parents and doesn‟t deserve to be uprooted from his home so I can move him from one duty station to another.” “It sounds like you‟ve decided.” D.J. was certain he had. Yet he still wasn‟t ready to take the final step that would end what he had worked and strived for his entire adult life. He didn‟t take the decision to end his time in the army lightly and needed to talk to Ian about his plans. “I still have a few ideas to consider before I make my final decision.” “I would like to know as soon as possible, preferably before your emergencyleave period ends next week.” “Yes, sir.” “Dismissed.” “I‟ll give you my decision as soon as possible.” “See that you do.” D.J. had just risen to his feet when the cell phone in his right jacket pocket started to ring with the tone he‟d assigned to Ian‟s school. He started to answer, then remembered his commanding officer. “Sorry, sir. I neglected to put my phone on vibrate.” The phone continued to ring. Yeah, having Ian as a responsibility could affect his focus and change how well he did his job. He didn‟t know how single parents

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managed in the civilian world, and it was worse for those in the military. “It‟s my brother‟s school. Do you mind if I take this call?” Collins looked annoyed but nodded. The expression on his face was dark and stormy, but D.J. ignored it. He flipped open his phone. “Faulkner here.” “Captain Faulkner, this is Claire Robinson, Ian‟s English teacher. He and a couple of his classmates got into a scuffle a few minutes ago, and I‟m afraid he‟s having an asthma attack.” “Is he all right? Didn‟t he use his emergency inhaler?” “He did, but he‟s still having difficulty breathing.” D.J. looked at his watch at the same time he saluted with the other hand. After hearing a quick “get out of here,” from Major Collins, he was out the door and running to his car.

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Chapter Five D.J. admitted he wasn‟t always a patient man, and that was particularly true when it came to waiting for a doctor‟s appointment. By the time he‟d arrived at the school nurse‟s office, Ian‟s breathing had improved enough that seeing his pediatrician was no longer urgent. To look at him now, you wouldn‟t know the kid had had an asthma attack at all. His breathing was deep and regular, his skin color pink and he‟d asked to stop for a snack after leaving school. The kid might have had some defensive training, but had never been a fighter. Yet since his parents died, he‟d gotten into at least three fights. Ian was a little small for his age, but he clearly didn‟t know when to back down from a fight. Somehow, D.J. felt he was at fault, but for the life of him didn‟t know how. He was willing to talk to his brother, but every time he asked Ian a question, all he got was a quick brush-off, followed by an angry “leave me alone.” Was Ian afraid something would happen to him? D.J. looked at his brother, suddenly realizing Ian had frowned a lot the last couple of weeks. D.J. ruffled his brother‟s hair and held out his hand. “Hey, buddy. Hand over your portable game. We need to talk.” “Don‟t have anything to talk about.” Judging by the way Ian lowered his eyes and squirmed, he didn‟t want to talk. Normally D.J. wouldn‟t push, but he needed to know what was going on in his brother‟s head. The waiting room of the doctor‟s office wasn‟t the ideal place for a serious conversation, but now seemed the time to deal with Ian‟s problem. “I don‟t happen to agree.” D.J. squeezed Ian‟s shoulder. “Look at me, Bro.” He waited until his brother had given him the portable game and looked him in the face. “Ian, what‟s gotten into you? What‟s going on?” “Nothing.” “Why won‟t you tell me what‟s bothering you? I love you and want you to be happy, and I can‟t fix what‟s wrong if you don‟t talk to me.” “I don‟t want to talk about it.” D.J. heaved a frustrated sigh. “Are you trying to get the principal to expel you from school? Because that‟s where you‟re headed if you don‟t stop fighting.” “The fight wasn‟t my fault.” D.J. snorted and crossed his arms over his chest. “I want to believe you, but I can‟t if I don‟t hear your side of the story. Tell me what happened.”

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“Whatever.” Now he was more frustrated. “I‟ll let it drop for now, but we will discuss your fighting again later. Let‟s talk about where we should live instead. Do you want to—” “You‟re going back to the army, aren‟t you? You‟re leaving me behind.” Ian‟s eyes widened, and his lower lip started to tremble. “What‟s going to happen to me when you leave again?” Hearing his brother voice his fears was a relief, but it also made D.J. sad to have his suspicions confirmed. He put his arm around his brother‟s thin shoulders and pulled him into a hug. “I‟m not leaving you, buddy. Why would you even think that?” Ian pushed him away. “Because you never stay home for long. You always leave. You‟ll leave like always, and I‟ll be alone. I don‟t want to live with anyone but you.” “Calm down and listen for a second.” D.J. grabbed his brother‟s wrist. “Ian, I said I‟m not leaving you. I promise. In fact, what would you say if I left the army and stayed here in Colorado Springs with you?” A small smile brightened Ian‟s face. “Do you mean it? You‟d leave the army? You‟d leave for good?” “Yeah, I would. I‟ve been thinking we should sell the house and get something smaller and easier to keep clean. What do you think?” “Okay.” One little sentence and Ian looked ready to jump out of his chair. Seeing his brother happy made D.J. feel like a weight had lifted off his shoulders, and let him know he‟d made the right decision. “Ian, calm down. I don‟t want to explain to your doctor how I let you get so excited you had another asthma attack in his waiting room.” “I‟m fine.” Ian grinned. “Don‟t worry about Dr. Morgan. He‟s a great guy and real friendly. You‟re going to like him.” “I‟m sure I will.” D.J. looked at his watch and frowned when he realized their appointment had come and gone twenty minutes ago. “I wonder what the delay is.” A nurse holding a chart opened the door to the patient-care area. She smiled in their direction. “Ian Jeffries, get your butt in here.” “Hi, Shelly.” Ian jumped to his feet and rushed across the room, and D.J. trailed behind him. “Hurry up, D.J.” “Hold your horses.” When D.J. reached the door, he extended his hand. “Hi, Shelly, I‟m Ian‟s brother. You can call me Damien or D.J. I‟ll answer to either.” They shook hands, and she closed the door behind them. “It‟s nice to meet you. I was sorry to hear about the death of Ian‟s parents.” “Thank you.” D.J. wrapped his arm around Ian‟s shoulders. “I‟m glad to say that aside from the fighting, he‟s doing well. Today‟s the first time he‟s had even a hint of an asthma problem.”

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“Good.” Shelly led the way down the hall. “Ian, you‟re going to be fourteen in a few months, and fighting will get you into trouble or hurt.” “I know I‟m not supposed to fight, Shelly, but what am I supposed to do? Those two guys have been bothering Zack for weeks and I‟m sick of it. They‟re older and bigger, and when they knocked him down and took his backpack, I lost it.” “And who exactly is Zack?” she asked as they reached the exam room door. They walked inside and closed the door. She gathered up supplies while Ian continued to talk. “His name‟s Zachary Wright and he‟s been my best friend since the second grade.” Shelly pointed to the exam table. “Hop up, Ian, and we‟ll get started. Dr. Morgan should be here soon. It‟s been a busy day and he‟s running a little late. Lucky you. You‟re the last patient of the day.” “I don‟t even know why the school nurse freaked out and made me come. I told her I was fine.” “I‟m sure you are,” D.J. agreed, “but humor me and let Shelly check you out.” Ian rolled his eyes. “Whatever.” She turned to D.J. “Since you‟re unfamiliar with the office, let me tell you the treatment plan. I‟m going to listen to Ian‟s lungs, take his vitals and temperature, do a breathing treatment, and walk him down the hall for a chest X-ray. Then after Dr. Morgan examines your brother, he‟ll decide if Ian needs any additional treatments or take-home medication. Do you have any questions?” D.J. shook his head, grateful for the explanation. “No, I‟m good. Thanks.” “Okay, Ian. Let‟s get this show on the road.”

*** As he opened the door, Shelly was saying, “…should be here any minute.” He continued inside. “And here I am, young man.” “Hi, Dr. Morgan.” “How are you feeling?” Ian heaved an exasperated sigh. “I‟m fine and nobody will believe me.” “Give it up, Ian. The school nurse thought you needed to be seen.” The familiar deep voice coming from behind him raised the hairs on Win‟s nape. He turned and found exactly who he expected—D.J. “Hello, Dr. Morgan.” He stood and stuck out his hand, a pleased grin on his face. “My name is Damien Faulkner, but you can call me D.J. I‟m Ian‟s brother.” They shook in greeting. “It‟s nice to meet you.” Win hoped his voice didn‟t sound as shaky and high-pitched as he feared, but if the cocky grin on D.J.‟s face was any indication, it was. “I didn‟t know Ian‟s brother was in the military.” He looked closer at the nametag on D.J.‟s shirt. “You‟re a Captain? In the army?” “Yes. I‟ve been on emergency leave since the accident.”

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“I‟m certain your brother appreciates you being here.” Win moved closer to Ian, an encouraging smile on his face. “Even though you don‟t think you need it, let me take a listen to your lungs.” He pulled his stethoscope from around his neck and put in the earpieces before leaning down to place the bell on Ian‟s chest. “Take a deep breath.” Win moved the bell from place to place, listening closely in each quadrant. “Not bad—no wheezing.” Shelly stepped forward. “When he arrived he wasn‟t in any distress and his vitals and breathing capacity numbers were within normal limits. He‟s had one treatment, per our protocol. I was waiting for your approval before starting the second, and his X-ray should be up for you to look at.” Win looked at his nurse. “Good work. We‟ll give him one more treatment and prescribe a round of prednisone as a precaution.” “Very good, Doctor. I‟ll get the second treatment started.” Ian made a grumbling sound, and he sat up straight. “Do I have to get another treatment? Zack needs my help to work on our science project.” “School is just getting out, so you couldn‟t go over to Zack‟s for a while anyway,” D.J. said. “So, relax and let the medical professionals do their jobs. Okay? I don‟t want anything happening to you.” “Fine.” He jumped down from the table. “I‟m going down the hall to the restroom first. I‟ll be right back.” A quick turn and Win was facing D.J. again. “By all appearances, your brother‟s fine, but I want to take a look at his X-ray to make certain. If you‟d like to join me in my office, we can talk.” The edges of D.J. lips curled up, and he nodded in agreement. “That sounds like an excellent idea.” Without saying another word, Win left the exam room. The sound of D.J.‟s leather shoes followed him down the hall to the large digital X-ray computer screen area. He clicked on Ian‟s file and opened the newest chest film. “It looks good. This confirms it. He‟s fine.” The relief in D.J.‟s voice was easy to hear. “That makes me feel much better. I have to admit he looked so good when I picked him up at school that I almost didn‟t bring him in, but the school nurse was so adamant I felt I had too.” Win smiled and patted his arm. "Knowing when to call the doctor will get easier with practice.” He nodded to the office. “We need a little privacy.” He walked into his office and waited until the door clicked shut. “Damn, Win.” D.J. winked. “I never imaged the Dr. Winston D. Morgan listed on Ian‟s inhaler and prescription bottles was the same sexy Win I‟d met. It‟s a small world.” “Isn‟t it.” The man leaning against the closed door wore a pleased grin, and his chocolate-colored eyes twinkled, the picture going straight to Win‟s groin. “After meeting you in Denver, it never occurred to me that you might live in Colorado Springs.”

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D.J. stepped closer until he towered over him. “I guess I should have told you I was in the army, but I‟m used to keeping the whole gay-man-in-the-military part of my life quiet.” Everything about this man made him crazy and aroused. Win licked his lips and took a step back. “Do I make you uncomfortable?” D.J. taunted him in a deep, husky voice. “Why are you backing away?” Win stopped. Why was he backing away? It wasn‟t as if he needed to be shy around D.J.; the man had seen him naked. The man had spent hours licking and nibbling every inch of his body and then spent more hours fucking him senseless. Win grinned at the memory, shrugged out of his lab jacket, and removed his tie. A quick slip around D.J. and Win was at the door, flipping the lock. Ian was fine, getting his second treatment, and he was the last appointment of the day, so he and D.J. had a few minutes before Shelly would come looking for them. It was time to play. If D.J was interested. Circling the silent figure, Win ran his fingers over his lover‟s shoulders and down his spine until he could cup, then squeeze, his tight ass. “You look hot in your uniform. Very sexy.” D.J. groaned. “You think so?” “I know so.” Continuing around to the other side, Win stood on tiptoe to nuzzle his ear. “You make me ache. You make me need.” As Win stepped around him, D.J. pulled Win‟s hand down to his groin. “You make me ache too.” The sensation of his lover‟s engorged dick throbbing against his palm set Win‟s blood on fire, making him hump against D.J.‟s thigh. Win groaned with pleasure. Knowing others were just a few feet away made their actions even more wicked and taboo. He‟d locked the door, no one could get in, and Win wanted to get D.J.‟s cock down his throat before they left the office. Win dropped to his knees at D.J.‟s feet. He rubbed his beard against the long, hard erection under the zipper. He inhaled deeply and nuzzled D.J.‟s groin again, the scent making his balls draw up tight against his body. “You smell intoxicating. I bet you taste even better.” D.J. unbuckled his belt and dropped his trousers and underwear to the floor. “Let me know.” “Smart-ass.” Win licked his lips in anticipation, staring at the precum beading from the slit. He leaned forward to catch the large droplet with his tongue before it hit the floor. “Yum, just like I remembered—spicy and musky. My favorite flavors.” D.J. tapped Win‟s jaw. “Less playing and more sucking.” “Cheeky bastard.” He wrapped his lips around the head. It was soft, spongy, and hot, and the small moans of encouragement coming from D.J. made Win as hard as a rock. D.J. buried his hands in Win‟s hair and tugged. He looked up into D.J.‟s dilated eyes,

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took a deep breath, shoved D.J.‟s cock down his throat, and swallowed. Win heard D.J. moan as he felt the man‟s thighs tense and start to tremble. They‟d just begun, and it felt like D.J. was already close to blowing. “I love your mouth.” Win closed his eyes, savoring the feel of D.J.‟s thick cockhead resting inside his mouth. He stroked and swirled his tongue over and around the head. He pressed against the slit and got the reward he‟d been after: another spicy spurt of precum. His penis throbbed and jerked inside his trousers; his balls ached for release. Win deep throated D.J. one more time, then pulled off and fumbled to get his dick out before he blew in his pants. “So help me, if I stain my slacks, you‟re going to be in trouble.” Win struggled with his belt. “We still need to go back to Ian‟s exam room so I can make a final check on him, and I don‟t want to do it with a huge wet spot on the front of my pants.” “You should have thought of that before shoving my dick down your throat.” D.J. pulled him to his feet, then unbuckled Win‟s belt and shoved his slacks to the floor. “You could always button your lab jacket.” “You‟re not helping.” D.J. pulled a foil packet out of his jacket pocket. “I‟d be happy to help.” He toed off his shoes and kicked his pants to the side. “Bend over the desk, honey.” Win‟s heart pounded, and his eyebrows shot up when he heard the endearment. “Honey, huh?” “Yeah, I think so. Is that all right?” “It‟s more than all right.” D.J. grinned and tapped Win‟s hip. “Good. Now bend over the desk so I can fuck you before we‟re caught with our pants off.” While Win got his briefs down, D.J. tore open the prelubricated condom packet, rolled it on his throbbing shaft, and stepped behind him. D.J. ran his hands up Win‟s back as Win wiggled his butt in invitation. A quick peek at the clock had Win frowning. “Hurry it up and fuck me. We‟re running out of time. Shelly‟s going to come looking for me any minute.” “I don‟t want to hurt you.” “You won‟t.” D.J. lined up his cock and pressed slowly forward until his balls rested against the back of his lover‟s legs. “This more what you had in mind?” “Yes. Move. Move.” A deep chuckle was D.J.‟s only response as he began to stroke. First, he moved slowly, each long slide past Win‟s prostate making him whimper and shake. Then faster, as he changed the angle and pegged Win‟s gland with each pounding thrust of his hips.

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Draping his body over Win‟s, D.J. intertwined their fingers. “I could fuck you for hours.” Win groaned and shoved his hips back. “Sounds wonderful, but I don‟t think Shelly would approve.” “And I‟d have to explain to Ian why I had my dick stuck up your ass.” A powerful thrust hit his prostate, and it was all Win could do not to scream. “Finish me. Please.” D.J. reached around and encircled Win‟s cock with his fist and started to stroke in time with his thrusts. “Come for me, lover. Let me feel you.” The heat radiating onto his back and D.J.‟s words sent Win over the edge. He buried his mouth against his arm as his muscles clamped down on the cock that impaled him. Another half a dozen thrusts and D.J. moaned and shook. The unsteady, weak legs of both men trembled. As D.J. pulled his softening cock out of Win‟s rear passage, they both moaned at the loss. He took a step back, helped Win off the desk, and pulled him into his arms. “I can‟t get enough of you.” D.J. kissed him hard, and their teeth clacked. “Have dinner with me tomorrow night. I can leave Ian with my cousin and his wife for a few hours.” “I can‟t. Emily‟s coming to dinner.” Win looked up and grinned. “I‟m cooking.” He bumped their bodies together. “If you‟re a really good boy, I‟ll cook dinner for you one night soon.” D.J. grinned back at him. “I‟m always a good boy.”

*** Win stood at the kitchen sink rinsing dishes, his hole pleasantly sore from the pounding D.J. had given him at his office. He shook his head at the memory. What had gotten into him? He‟d never done anything so out of control and reckless in his entire life. No, the most outlandish place he and Jack had had sex was an empty bathroom of a Mexican restaurant in the middle of a New Year‟s Eve party. At least he could use the excuse they‟d both been a little drunk. Win couldn‟t say the same about office sex with D.J., because they‟d both been stone-cold sober. He might as well admit it—something about D.J. made him lose control of his judgment and libido, and he wasn‟t entirely sure it was a good thing. All he had to do was think of the man, and within seconds he‟d be rock hard and throbbing. Without a doubt, D.J. got his motor running faster than any other man he‟d ever met, and it was a ride he intended to enjoy again and again. The high-pitched beep of the oven signaled that his lasagna was done and ready to eat. Win turned off the water, dried his hands, and walked across the kitchen, grabbing a set of pot holders off the counter on the way. He opened the door and caught the enticing scent of spicy, sweet Italian sausage, cheese, and tomatoes. “Damn, that smells good.” Using the pot holders, he pulled the pan out of the oven and shut the door, then carried the bubbling dish to the granite countertop. He set down the lasagna

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pan, picked up his beer, and drained the last few swallows. After checking his watch, he set the bottle down with a bang, grumbling at his missing daughter. It was eight o‟clock. Emily was thirty minutes late, and he was starving since he‟d missed lunch again. If he‟d known his daughter wasn‟t going to show up, he could have spent the evening with D.J. instead of eating alone. Emily could have at least called to let him know she had other plans. Plans that were likely with her fiancé. He chuckled as he thought of his soon-to-be son-in-law and the sappy “I‟m in love” look the man got on his face every time he looked at Emily. It was cute and, as a father, made Win feel better about his daughter getting married so young. As he pulled out a dinner plate, Emily opened the door from the garage. “Daddy, I‟m sorry I‟m late. There was an accident on I-25 that had traffic backed up for miles. I‟m sorry I didn‟t call you, but the battery on my cell phone is dead.” “I was beginning to think you‟d ditched me for your fiancé.” “Wyatt knew we‟re having dinner together.” Emily dropped her keys and purse on the counter. “He and his brother are playing pool this evening with some friends.” “I should have known I was second choice.” Win laid a plate and fork onto the counter next to Emily. “I guess at some point Wyatt coming first with you won‟t feel so unnatural.” Emily wrapped one pale arm around his neck and pulled him closer so she could rub their noses together. “You‟ll always be my best guy.” She stepped back and reached for the metal spatula to cut a piece of lasagna. “Now that I‟m getting married, you need to find someone of your own and stop worrying about me. You deserve a little happiness in your life. Someone to love—which brings to mind the car your neighbor saw. When am I going to meet this person?” Win rolled his eyes. What did he tell her? Did he tell her anything? It wasn‟t as if she was aware his sexual interests were toward the male persuasion, or that he‟d had male lovers in the past. As far as Emily knew, he was straight, heterosexual, and didn‟t have a gay bone in his body. In the five years since his divorce, he‟d only dated women. There wasn‟t any way for Emily to know he preferred the hard, muscular body of a man to the soft curves of woman. He watched Emily carry her plate to the table and pull out her chair. Did he tell her or not? No, the wedding was only a few weeks away, and there wasn‟t any reason to cause her any extra stress. Why chance disrupting their close relationship when he didn‟t know if what he had with D.J. would last? If they continued dating, he‟d reconsider. After placing an enormous portion of lasagna on his plate, he followed Emily to the table. “When the time is right, I‟ll tell you about it. That‟s all I can promise.” “That‟s not fair.” She pouted. “You know all about me and Wyatt.” Win laughed. “That might have something to do with the fact I‟ve known Wyatt since he was five.”

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“I still say it‟s not fair.” “Too bad. Drop it and pick another topic of conversation.” “Daddy.” “Don‟t „daddy‟ me, young lady. My private life is private, so change the subject.” Emily plopped into her chair. “Fine. Keep me in the dark like a damned fungus.” The expression on his daughter‟s face was priceless: pained, annoyed, irritated, and exasperated. He set his plate on the table and slid onto his seat. “Don‟t be so dramatic. It reminds me of your mother.” “You know I hate it when you tell me I‟m acting like Mom.” “Sometimes the truth hurts.” Win stared at his daughter and tried not to smile, which he knew would only annoy her. She was such a small woman that he sometimes forgot her fiery temper, which he had to admit she‟d inherited from him. The only difference was that over the years he‟d learned to control his, rarely allowing it to explode as hot as a supernova as it had numerous times when he‟d been young, idealistic, and naive. In fact, the last time Win had lost his temper was the night he‟d met D.J., poking that leather-clad guy in the chest. He shook his head, ignoring his daughter as she rambled on in the background. What was I thinking getting in the face of that guy? The truth was that he hadn‟t, which was unusual for him. If D.J. hadn‟t come along and played knight, he could have wound up injured or dead if his tattooed admirer and his friends had gotten him into the alley behind the bar. A quick peek at Emily assured Win she was still talking, so he nodded at her question and went back to thinking about D.J. The man made him crazy. Win couldn‟t stop fantasizing about him. How he kissed, how his skin tasted, or how it felt when he fucked him. D.J. was tall, gorgeous, protective, and everything he‟d ever wanted in a lover, or partner—a life partner. It was too soon to be thinking of a future together, but he couldn‟t stop the hope from taking root. Win liked D.J.; he liked him a lot. After wasting years married to Janet, he deserved a little happiness, even if it was only for a short time. D.J. was in the army, which meant he might not be around for long. Hell, he could leave any day. Win sighed and set down his fork, his appetite suddenly gone. “So, what do you think?” Emily asked with a broad smile. “Think about what?” “The food for the wedding dinner.” She heaved an exasperated sigh. “You weren‟t listening, were you?” “Of course I was,” Win lied without hesitation. “You still need to decide on the entrées.” “And…”

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“And I think you‟re spending too much money on the wedding, much more than your mother expected when she agreed to pay all the bills. So, before you make any further decisions, I think the two of you need to talk about how much more you‟re allowed to spend.” “Has Mom been talking to you? She said I could spend whatever I wanted.” “Just talk to her. Please.” “Daddy, it‟s not necessary. I promise. She doesn‟t care.” If only that were true. “Don‟t bet on it.”

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Chapter Six D.J. carried the last two bags of groceries into the kitchen and set them on the counter next to the other dozen. He hadn‟t found time to hit the grocery store in two weeks, and between him and Ian, they‟d eaten virtually everything in the refrigerator, freezer, and cabinets. That morning they‟d resorted to eating peanut butter on toast, and he‟d used the last of the coffee the night before, which had made him unhappy when he‟d reached for the empty pot that morning. He looked around at the bags piled on the counter and wondered how two guys managed to eat so much food. Ian came through the door carrying two twelve-packs of diet soda. “Can we have pizza for dinner tonight?” D.J. plucked a box of out of his arm with one hand while ruffling his hair with the other. “Not just no, but hell no. We had pizza yesterday night. Ellis should be here anytime with Chinese.” A smile flashed across Ian‟s face. “All right. I love crab rangoon. Is he bringing crab rangoon?” Ian grabbed his brother‟s wrist. “Call him. Make sure he gets at least two full orders—and lots of duck sauce.” D.J. watched his brother jump around the kitchen. “I said Ellis was picking up Chinese. I didn‟t say he was picking it out.” Ian gave his brother a playful shove. “What‟s he bringing?” “Beef with broccoli for you, along with an order of crab rangoon.” “Can I eat in my room so I can talk to Zack?” “Only if you have your homework finished. I don‟t want another note from one of your teachers.” D.J. arched an eyebrow. “Do I make myself clear?” “Yes, sir.” “And I want you to bring your plate down after you eat, and don‟t spill food on the rug again. I forgot the carpet cleaner.” “Okay.” While they waited for their dinner to arrive, the two brothers worked in an easy, companionable silence, removing groceries from the bags and putting the food in its proper place. When they finished, D.J. gathered the plastic bags and shoved them in a holder for later reuse. While Ian emptied the dishwasher and put away the clean dishes, D.J. rinsed the dirty ones sitting in the sink and reloaded the dishwasher for the next wash cycle. That finished, he scrubbed the sink and wiped

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down the surrounding countertop. As Ian walked behind him, D.J. turned and snapped him on the butt with the end of a damp dishcloth. Ian yelped and jumped, rubbing the spot hit by the towel. “Why‟d you do that?” A quick move and D.J. had his brother in a headlock with one arm, the other rubbing his scalp with his knuckles. “Because you‟re being too quiet, that‟s why. It‟s not normal for you to be so cooperative.” He moved his hand to Ian‟s forehead. “Are you sick? Do you have a fever?” Ian laughed and pushed him away. “Har, har. You‟re so not funny, man.” “I don‟t know,” Ellis said from the doorway. “I‟ve always thought your brother was funny looking.” “Don‟t listen to him,” D.J. said as he flipped off their cousin. “He thinks he‟s funny.” “It takes one to know one.” Ellis placed two sacks of food on the island and pulled out several large white cardboard food containers. “He only says that because we grew up together, and I know all the stupid stunts he pulled as a kid.” The food containers were Ian‟s only interest, and he ignored both adults as he opened one after another. When he got to the carton that held his crab rangoon, he snagged one and popped it in his mouth. “Hot. Hot. Hot.” D.J. shoved a glass of water into his hand. “Take a drink, and next time check the temperature before cramming food in your mouth.” “Okay.” They spent the next five minutes in a wild scramble, pulling out plates, utensils, and paper towels. Next, they got Ian a soda and themselves beers. In a flurry of shuffling boxes and clanging utensils, most of the food landed on the plates and only a little on the floor. Ian grabbed his filled plate, fork, and soda. “Can I go upstairs now? I told Zack I‟d call by seven o‟clock.” D.J. nodded toward the doorway. “Go. Get out of here. Call your friend.” As Ian raced for the stairs, D.J. grimaced as he nearly dropped his glass. “Slow down!” “Sorry,” Ian called back as he disappeared around the corner. Ellis shook his head. “He‟s a handful.” “So I‟ve discovered.” Ellis raised his beer and took a sip, then picked up his dinner before following D.J. to the table. “How does it feel suddenly becoming a parent?” “Scary, if you want to know the truth.” And D.J. wasn‟t kidding. He liked kids and enjoyed playing with the children of his friends, but as a gay man, he‟d never expected to have children—had never even considered it. So instant parenthood and the realization he was responsible for not only Ian‟s physical needs but his emotional ones too scared him to death. How did other single parents survive raising a child? Ellis grabbed his fork. “You‟re scared.”

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“Damn right I‟m scared. If I do something wrong, it could scar Ian for life.” “Now you‟re just being ridiculous. You‟d never do anything that wasn‟t in your brother‟s best interests.” D.J. picked up his beer and took a sip. “That‟s why I don‟t think a life traveling from one army base to another is right for him.” He raked his hand through his hair. “Hell, I don‟t think it‟s right for me anymore either.” As difficult as it was to admit, D.J. was telling his cousin the truth. He lived a closeted military life, unable to openly admit his needs, and for what? So that even after years of faithful service, the army could throw him out on his ass if they learned he was gay. It wasn‟t right, and it wasn‟t fair he couldn‟t serve his country and love the person of his choice without fear of discovery and ridicule. Ellis leaned back in his chair. “You‟ve finally met a guy and you‟ve decided to leave the army.” “Yeah, I have.” A pleased smile spread over D.J.‟s face. “Between finding him and doing what‟s best for Ian, I‟d be stupid to stay where I‟m not happy.” “It‟s the guy from the Batting Cage, isn‟t it?” “Yeah. He lives here in Colorado Springs, and I got the surprise of my life when I took Ian to the doctor for an asthma attack.” D.J. understood his cousin‟s look of confusion. “He‟s Ian‟s pediatrician, Win Morgan.” Ellis‟s mouth hung open for a few seconds before he slammed it shut. “I didn‟t know he was gay.” “He isn‟t gay. He‟s bi.” “So, is your decision to leave the military behind you final?” “Yeah, it is. I‟ve thought of leaving the army for several months. I‟m tired of always being alone, and it‟s boring and frustrating to eat, sleep, and vacation by myself year after year.” “Didn‟t I see something on the news about a policy change? That‟s good, right?” “Of course it‟s good. The problem is the changes they‟re implementing only affect cases currently under investigation. They don‟t address the rest of us and won‟t for months. Don‟t get me wrong. It‟s great they can‟t use hearsay or your own doctor against you any longer, but for me, it‟s too little, too late. I deserve to be happy, and I haven‟t been for three or four years. I‟m done.” “It‟s about time you came to your senses and quit.” Ellis sat up straight. “Hey, that means we can run Sharpe Photography together now instead of waiting until you retire. That‟s great. I‟ve been so busy lately, I‟ve been thinking of hiring help. I can‟t do it all myself. You wouldn‟t believe how many clients I‟ve turned down in the last six months.” D.J. held up his hand. “I plan to turn in my papers as soon as possible, and I have several weeks of leave piled up.”

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“Great. That means you can start immediately. Why don‟t you stop by the studio in the morning? We can discuss our shared duties and go over the list of potential clients, as well as the ones already on the calendar.” “Sounds good. I‟ll get there as soon as I can after dropping Ian off at school.” “Great. We‟ll need to get another office desk and chair, a new file cabinet, a computer for you to use, and whatever else you think you‟ll need. I‟ll get you a new set of keys to the front and back doors tomorrow.” Ellis sipped his beer. “I‟ll talk to my attorney in the morning about changing your status from silent to active on our partnership papers.”

*** Win rubbed his eyes and squinted at the clock sitting on the mantel. What was that pounding noise? He rubbed his eyes again and tried to focus on the numbers. The thought he might need glasses flashed through his mind, making him shudder in horror. The thought was stupid, egotistical and vain, but it didn‟t change how he felt. As Win struggled to free his legs from the afghan wrapped around him like a boa constrictor, the pounding stopped, and his cell phone started to ring on the coffee table. “Now what?” He slipped on the afghan as he tried to stand, and landed on the floor. “Shit!” Win closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. He was worn-out and cranky, and all he wanted was to pull a pillow off the couch, stuff it under his head, and go back to sleep. “Stop ringing,” he snarled. Except it didn‟t, and the pounding started again. “Son of a bitch.” When Win jerked the front door open, he was hanging on to his temper by a thread. “What the hell do you want?” “Well, hello to you too, Win.” “What?” he sputtered. “Lyndsay, what are you doing here?” “I take it you forgot I was coming over for drinks this evening.” She tapped his forehead. “It‟s Wednesday. I come over the same night every week. You‟re really are out of it.” “I did forget.” He groaned as he shut the door. “It‟s been a bitch of a week; I haven‟t slept well the last couple of nights.” “That would explain why you look like something the cat dragged in.” She looked him up and down. “I guess it also explains why you‟re answering the door without your pants on.” Win‟s face heated as he realized that he was standing in front of his best friend dressed in a tattered red T-shirt and a pair of black silk briefs. Could life get any worse? Of course, it could. D.J. could come walking up to the door and find him nearly naked in front of a beautiful woman. Wouldn‟t that thrill his new lover?

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When he reached the couch, Win grabbed his pants and hurriedly dressed. “Lyndsay, will you please stop staring at my ass?” he snapped. She had the nerve to giggle. “I‟ve always thought you had a cute butt.” “TMI, TMI. I don‟t want to hear that my best friend likes my ass. That‟s just gross.” “You‟ve only improved with age, my friend. Janet was just too stupid to notice.” Win grinned, then turned toward the kitchen with Lyndsay following. “Thankfully, D.J. isn‟t stupid.” “When do I get to meet him?” “Maybe never if you don‟t behave.” “Bastard.” Lyndsay glared and tapped her foot. “Details. I need details.” “I didn‟t say anything because it‟s new and I don‟t want to jinx it.” Lyndsay sat the wine bottle on the countertop with one hand while opening a kitchen drawer with the other. “I‟ll pour if you get the glasses down.” After Lyndsay poured the wine, he grasped both wine glasses. “Bring the bottle.” He led the way back to the living room. As soon as they settled on the couch, Win passed Lyndsay her glass. “What do you want to know?” “Height, weight, eye and hair colors, what he does for a living, and his full name. Maybe I know him.” Win arched an eyebrow. “D.J.‟s only been in town a few weeks, so I doubt you‟ve met.” He watched his friend and wondered how long he could drag out his description before she tried to strangle him. She never had had much patience, and the tic in her left eye meant it was running out fast. “Okay, the truth.” He paused and took another sip. “Get on with it already!” After setting down his glass, Win spread his hands. “Imagine shoulders this wide, a nicely muscled chest, gorgeous chocolate brown eyes, and short, wavy brown hair.” He leaned back on the couch and grinned at his friend‟s shocked expression. “Did I mention he‟s six feet two and weighs in at probably two hundred and ten luscious pounds?” “Hallelujah!” Lyndsay threw her arms around Win‟s neck. “I didn‟t think you were ever going to get over Jack‟s death.” Win kissed her on the cheek. “You don‟t seem surprised.” “I‟m not. I always knew you preferred men to woman, so Janet‟s pregnancy is the only explanation for your marrying that snob. Enough about her. Tell me more about D.J.” “He‟s the older brother of one of my patients, and before you ask, I don‟t see it as a problem.” He smiled suddenly. “He doesn‟t either.” “Have you told Emily yet?”

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“No. I don‟t plan to explain to my daughter how the father she always thought was straight isn‟t. At least not until I see where this new relationship is going.” “How is Emily?” “Bubbling over with happiness while driving me crazy with wedding plans. I can‟t wait until the ceremony is over so I don‟t have to deal with Janet any longer. I never imagined getting married took so much time and energy.” “Most men don‟t.” “Janet doesn‟t either, or she‟s chosen to forget. If that woman calls me one more time to complain about the money Emily‟s spending, I might resort to bloodshed.” Lyndsay laughed and saluted him with her glass. “If you do, let me know. I want to watch.”

*** By nine thirty, Ellis was gone, D.J. had cleaned up the kitchen, readied the coffeepot for the next morning, folded a load of towels, and sent Ian to his room to get ready for bed. D.J. sipped a beer and stared into the darkened backyard. How did single parents manage to raise a child while juggling a job and a private life without going crazy? Without thinking several times a day that everything they did or said could screw their child up for the rest of his or her life. D.J. felt like banging his head against a wall. He had to stop second-guessing his parenting skills and his ability to make intelligent, sound decisions about what was right for his brother. D.J. walked upstairs to his bedroom, a cold bottle of beer dangling from one hand. He turned on the television, barely noticing the news program playing across the screen, the flash of color the only thing registering as he took another sip of beer. He settled on the bed when a commercial featuring Ian‟s new asthma inhaler caught his attention, which made him wonder whether his brother had taken his medication before going to sleep. D.J. was almost out of bed when he stopped, remembering Ian had swallowed the pill, then given him the empty bottle. At least getting a prescription refilled was simple. Nothing else about being a parent was as easy, which he had discovered his first day home from Fort Bragg, when a sobbing Ian had thrown himself into D.J.‟s arms. His brother deserved the best, and D.J. wanted him to get it. Should he go to the library and check out some parenting books? He plopped back on the pillow. If there was one thing D.J. hated, it was being wishy-washy, uncertain, and inadequate, which was exactly how being a parent made him feel, and he didn‟t like it. What he wanted was for his brother to be healthy, happy, and well-adjusted. D.J. looked at the empty spot on the other half of his bed. Hell, why lie? He wanted to be healthy, happy, and well-adjusted too, but right now, all he had going for him was his health. With his imminent departure from the military and the beginning of his permanent position with Ellis, his life was in limbo for the first time since

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graduating from West Point. It was unsettling, scary, and exciting all at the same time. As he glanced at the television again, the image of a dark-haired doctor flashed across the screen, triggering a memory of his new lover and his shocked expression when he‟d found D.J. with Ian. Then he remembered the blowjob in Win‟s office. Damn. Win was not only a sexy man, but bold and daring enough to keep their sex life from getting dull or boring. Without stopping to check the time, D.J. grabbed his cell phone off the nightstand. He scrolled through the numbers, dialed, and then waited for an answer as it rang and rang. D.J. frowned as he reached for his beer. “Hello.” “Hey, Win. I was beginning to think you weren‟t home.” “I was in the shower.” D.J. sighed, imagining Win wet and soapy. “You‟re killing me.” “I‟m damp, naked, and getting ready to climb in bed. Alone.” He’d better be alone. “Glad to hear that, honey.” “Sounds like you‟re staking a claim on my ass, Captain.” “Damn straight.” The silence lasted so long that D.J. wondered if Win had ended the call. He listened carefully, afraid he‟d overstepped his bounds with his possessive remark. “Are you still there, Win, or did I piss you off?” “Not pissed off, just surprised you want me despite what you‟ve said.” Music came on in the background, and D.J. heard a drawer slam. “I guess I‟m a little more insecure than I realized.” “You‟re a great guy and fun to be around. Who wouldn‟t want you?” D.J. heard a heavy sigh. “I‟m glad you think so, because my ex-wife never did.” That didn‟t make any sense until D.J. remembered Win saying she‟d only gotten pregnant and married to get her hands on her trust fund. Talk about coldblooded and calculating. “That only goes to show how stupid she is—not knowing a good man when she had him.” “You‟re good for my ego, D.J.D. Yes, you are.” “Adding initials to my name, are you?” “Since you call me honey, it only seems fair I call you darling.” The purr in Win‟s voice as he said the word darling had D.J.‟s cock filling and pressing against his zipper in five seconds flat. It probably shouldn‟t surprise him that Win pushed every one of his sexual buttons: self-assured, confident, sexy as hell, and just the right size. Let‟s not forget his lover‟s thick beard and mustache. He‟d always had an attraction to men with well-groomed facial hair and loved the way it felt dragging across his skin and cock.

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“Sounds fair, honey.” D.J. glanced at the clock and cringed as he saw the time. “I didn‟t realize it was so late. Am I keeping you up? You sound tired.” “No. I usually start early on Thursdays, but I‟m not going into the office until after lunch tomorrow, so I can sleep late for a change. I agreed to go with Emily to talk with the wedding photographer in the morning.” “You‟re a good father. She‟s lucky to have you.” “Damn straight, or she‟d be meeting with the owner of Sharpe Photography with her mother.” D.J. choked on his beer. “Are you all right?” He choked again and started to cough. “Beer went down the wrong way.” It was fortunate he hadn‟t taken a bigger swallow, or he would have sucked an entire mouthful down his lungs instead of just a sip. D.J. continued to cough, trying to drag air into his lungs while pushing the beer out. “Don‟t take such deep breaths. Try slow, shallow ones until your throat and lungs relax and stop spasming.” Following Win‟s suggestion, D.J. tried to relax and was surprised when it worked. A couple of minutes later he was breathing normally again. He swiped the tears from his eyes with the sleeve of his shirt and plumped the pillow behind his head. “Beer and breathing don‟t mix.” “No? Really?” Win paused for a second, and his change of subject caught D.J. by surprise. “How about meeting me for breakfast in the morning?” “I can‟t. I promised my cousin that I‟d stop by his office as soon as I dropped Ian off at school.” “That‟s fine,” Win replied hastily. “It‟s not a big deal. I just thought I‟d ask.” Did he hear a note of disappointment in Win‟s voice? D.J. wasn‟t certain. “Can I have a rain check for another morning?” “Just name the day, D.J.” “I‟ll talk to you tomorrow, and we‟ll decide when to meet for breakfast.” After he‟d replaced the phone on the nightstand, D.J. stripped, then settled back on his pillows and turned off the light. The best course of action would have been to confess that he was half owner of Sharpe Photography and that they‟d be seeing each other in the morning, but D.J. wanted to see the surprised look on Win‟s face, so he‟d kept quiet. It might not be the best decision he‟d ever made, but it seemed fate was determined to throw them together, so who was D.J. to argue with events clearly out of his control? Life was interesting, and it looked like he was just along for the ride.

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Chapter Seven Using the new key Ellis at dropped off at the house earlier that morning, D.J. let himself in through the back entrance of Sharpe Photography and closed the door behind him. The back hall was nearly pitch-black. The only light was a small beam of sunshine coming in through an opening in the heavy, dark curtains Ellis used to block light from his darkroom door. The blackout curtains made for great light control, but it was dangerous walking down the hall, since the light didn‟t work when he flipped on the switch. He looked up at the overhead fixture, betting Ellis hadn‟t changed the bulb since he‟d visited the week before. D.J. shifted the weight of his camera case to the other shoulder. “Ellis, are you here?” He heard the words “I‟m in the kitchen” seconds before the faint scent of freshbrewed coffee hit his nose. Ah, caffeine, just what he needed to get his day started right. Well, that and some food. “Did you stop at McDonald‟s for breakfast?” Ellis stuck his head out of the doorway. “No, I stopped at that great little bakery down the street and picked up a couple of their giant cinnamon rolls—with extra icing.” D.J. strolled into the kitchen. “Great, I‟m starving.” “Nothing‟s changed. You‟ve always been able to eat anything you wanted and have it turn to muscle. It‟s not fair.” “That‟s because I take after my father‟s side of the family,” D.J. answered as he dropped his case on the table. “You, unfortunately, take after the maternal side of our family.” He flexed his muscles and smirked. “I get muscle; you get the threat of flab.” “Jerk.” “True. So true.” D.J. walked to the counter, poured his coffee, and took a sip before turning back to his cousin. “Now, where‟s my cinnamon roll?” Ellis held up the bag and bobbed it up and down. “You get the roll after you tell me you‟ve turned in your papers.” “When would I have time to do that? I came here right after dropping Ian off.” He made a grab for the bag but came up empty as Ellis moved back. D.J. made another grab. “I‟m hungry. Give me that roll.” “No can do.”

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“Don‟t make me take it, Cousin.” Ellis bobbed the bag again. “They‟re still warm.” He inhaled deeply. “Can‟t you just smell the butter and cinnamon?” He lunged to the right just as Ellis tripped over a chair while trying to get around the table. D.J. snagged the bag and gave out a victory hoot. “Sucker. Never stand between me and any pastry from Brewer‟s Bakery.” Ellis raised his hands in surrender. “I give up, but promise me you‟ll hand them in soon.” “I can do that.” D.J. pushed a piece of cinnamon roll into his mouth and quickly changed the subject. “The house is too big for the two of us and holds too many memories for Ian. I need to sell it and find us something smaller, so I need the name of a good real estate agent. Is there anyone you‟d recommend?” Ellis nodded. “I‟ll get you the name of the agent Camille and I used when we purchased our house late last year. She‟s great and easy to work with.” “That‟s what I need. I wish everything else were as easy.” He took a sip of coffee. “I signed the final papers for the sale of Ian‟s father‟s medical practice to his partners yesterday.” “That‟s a little fast, isn‟t it?” “That‟s the way they wanted it, and to tell you the truth, so did I. The offering price was far more than I expected, and will pay for Ian‟s college education, no matter where he wants to go, and I‟ll still have money left over for anything he‟ll ever need.” D.J. dropped the remains of his cinnamon roll onto the countertop. He still couldn‟t believe his mother and stepfather were dead, and he‟d prefer not to think about it. Who would have imagined an experienced pilot would fly his plane into a mountain? Not him, but then he hadn‟t expected to hear the FAA tape of the accident either or his mom crying as her husband told the airport tower that oil was pumping onto his windshield—that he couldn‟t see. He shook his head in disgust. It wasn‟t right. Because of a stupid, preventable mechanical error, Ian was without both his parents. Thankfully, D.J.‟s posting was stateside, and he‟d been able to get from North Carolina to Colorado only hours after their deaths. Without warning, D.J. wrapped his arms around Ellis and pulled him into a hug. Ellis patted him on the back. “What‟s going on?” Dropping his arms, D.J. moved back. “Just wanted to make certain you knew how much I valued your help with Ian until I could get here from Fort Bragg.” “That‟s what family is for, jerkface.” “Dickhead.” “Freak.”

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“Dork.” D.J. gave him a shove, almost toppling his smaller cousin. “What are we, in grade school again?” “If I didn‟t think I‟d get my ass kicked, I‟d tackle you.” D.J. laughed as a childhood memory popped into his head. “And you know what happened the last time you tried that.” “Yeah. I got tied to a chair and shoved out onto the patio in the rain.” “Which only proves you‟ve gotten smarter with age.” Ellis checked the time and grabbed his coffee and cinnamon roll, then headed for the door. “We‟ve got about thirty minutes before our first client arrives, and we still need to go over today‟s schedule and the event calendar for the next month.” D.J. grinned at the reminder that Win would be getting a big surprise when he and his daughter came in to speak with Ellis. “Okay by me.” “Well, hurry up. We‟ve got a busy day ahead of us.” “I haven‟t finished my coffee yet.” “Too bad.” D.J. slung his camera bag over his left shoulder, dodging Ellis as he walked down the hall. “You do remember that I‟m bigger than you? Right?” Ellis kept walking. “Yeah, I know. You could snap me like a twig, but you won‟t.” When the two men reached the front desk, D.J. set his camera case on the counter and pulled out his photographic-sample portfolio. He looked down at the five-inch-thick binder, then back to Ellis, who was pulling another book from the right-side desk drawer. A grin spread over D.J.‟s face a split second before he dropped his heavy book on the empty desktop with a bang. His unsuspecting cousin jumped about a foot off the ground, squealing in fright. “You scream like a girl.” “And you know I have a high startle reflex.” “Yeah, I know. That‟s what makes scaring you so much fun.” After flipping D.J. off, Ellis set the book he was holding on the desk and opened it to a page marked with a huge paper clip. He tapped the page. “Our first appointment is a young bride, Emily Morgan, and her father. The wedding‟s scheduled for the second week of September at…” His voice trailed off at the same time his eyes widened. “You jerk. Her father is your new squeeze!”

*** “Dad, how many times do I have to say I‟m sorry?” Win glared at his daughter and ground his teeth so tight together that his jaws ached. They were late for Emily‟s appointment with the wedding photographer because she‟d arrived at his house nearly thirty minutes behind schedule. It was

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rude and inappropriate, especially when they were meeting with the man who‟d be responsible for making the permanent record of Emily and Wyatt‟s wedding day. Win signaled and pulled into the parking lot at the front of the building. As he turned off the engine, he unhooked his seat belt and shifted positions to face his daughter. “I know you‟re sorry, and I‟m not angry; I‟m disappointed. You‟re nearly twenty-one years old and only weeks away from getting married.” “And I need to stop acting like a kid and more like a responsible adult.” “Exactly. I couldn‟t have said it better myself.” Emily rolled her eyes as she gave his shoulder a playful shove. “Okay, Dad, I get the message. I get the message.” “Good.” Win patted her cheek. “Now get out of the car. We‟re late as it is.” “The fault‟s mine.” Emily held up her hand. “More responsible, less adolescent. I can do that.” When Win pulled open the glass-fronted door, a small chime sounded—the soft, clear tone welcoming in the bright, open space. He looked toward the back, smiling at the brown-haired man coming through the open door behind the counter. “Mr. Sharpe, I‟m sorry we‟re late.” “Dr. Morgan, please call me Ellis.” The men shook hands. “I‟m glad you were able to take time away from your busy schedule to come in with your daughter this morning. She was eager to have you included in our meeting.” “My daughter and I have always been close.” “Will her mother be joining us?” Emily snorted. “My mother might be paying for your services, but she hasn‟t shown much interest in the details. I‟m not expecting her.” A look of confusion flashed across Ellis‟s face, but a small grin quickly replaced it. He led her to a small sitting area near the front window. “Why don‟t you get comfortable, and I‟ll show you a couple of sample books so you can pick out the techniques and styles you‟d like included in your photographs.” “That sounds like an excellent idea,” Win said as Emily opened the first book. “I‟ve heard nothing but good comments about your work, so we‟re pleased that you‟ll be taking the photographs of Emily and Wyatt‟s wedding.” “My partner and I are happy Emily picked Sharpe Photography to record this important event.” The comment puzzled Win. No one had mentioned Ellis Sharpe having a partner. “I wasn‟t aware you had someone working with you.” “He‟s only recently returned to town from North Carolina. I assure you, his work won‟t disappoint you.” Ellis pointed to the area they‟d just left. “Let me introduce you to my cousin and partner, D.J. Faulkner.” When Win turned and saw D.J., he spoke without thinking. “What the hell?” “Dr. Morgan, why don‟t you let me take you to the kitchen for a snack and a glass of juice?” D.J. moved closer. “You look a little pale.”

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The only event that was going to make Win feel better was an explanation of why D.J. hadn‟t mentioned seeing him this morning. “That might be best.” He turned to his daughter. “Will you be all right?” “I‟ll be fine, Dad,” Emily answered without taking her eyes off the book open on her lap. “Go…get a drink.” She looked up and frowned. “He‟s right. You do look a little pale.” D.J. gripped Win‟s elbow and pulled him to his feet. “Don‟t worry, Miss Morgan. I‟ll take good care of your father.” “I just bet you will,” Ellis mumbled. Win didn‟t have a chance to respond, because D.J. propelled him across the room so fast his feet barely hit the floor. Before he could say a word, they were down the hall, standing in the middle of a small kitchen. He blinked a couple of times, and a frown formed when he noticed the grin on his lover‟s face. “What are you doing here?” D.J. just grinned bigger. “Don‟t you like my little surprise?” “Your surprise just about gave me a heart attack. Why didn‟t you say something last night?” “If you‟ll remember, honey, when you mentioned Sharpe Photography last night, I choked on my beer.” Now it was Win‟s turn to grin. It served the guy right for being so closemouthed and sneaky. He poked D.J. in the chest with his finger. “I don‟t like secrets.” A fist wrapped around Win‟s wrist. “I recall that you don‟t like the name sweet thing either. Sweet thing.” “Thanks a lot for reminding me of one of my most stupid ideas.” His snippy, sarcastic tone earned him another grin from D.J. that he couldn‟t help but return. “Are you saying that meeting me was a stupid mistake?” As D.J. moved closer, Win planted a hand on his chest. “Don‟t put words in my mouth. Explanations first. Kissing second.” Scowling down at Win‟s hand, D.J. stepped back before answering. “Ellis and I started Sharpe Photography the year after I graduated from West Point, and during that time I‟ve been a silent partner. Now that I‟m back in town, I‟m taking an active part in our business.” Did D.J. have any idea how cute he looked when he pouted? Probably not. A tough army officer would likely take offense at the mere thought of looking cute, cuddly, and good enough to take a bite out of. Win cocked his head to the side at the realization that D.J. was pouting. Could it be because he hadn‟t gotten a kiss as soon as they were alone? “You look cute when you pout.” D.J. raised his eyebrows. “I do not pout.” “I hate to break it to you, D.J., but you pout like a champ.”

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“I do not.” They were standing in the kitchen, and Ellis or Emily could walk in any moment, but Win didn‟t care. The need to kiss D.J. overwhelmed his good sense. Win grabbed a fistful of shirt. “You pout. Deal with it.” He pulled his lover forward until he could wrap both arms around his waist. “Kiss me.” D.J. nibbled on Win‟s upturned lips. “Aren‟t you afraid someone will see us?” The words “I don‟t care” were barely out of his mouth when D.J. kissed him, thrusting his tongue inside Win‟s parted lips. He dived into the kiss, taking control, tangling their tongues together, deepening the contact, stealing Win‟s power to think and a few of his inhibitions. He buried his fingers in D.J.‟s hair and brought their lips together, tugging his lover‟s hair, trying to get closer, to crawl inside the other man‟s skin. D.J. backed Win into the table and spread him out flat, covering the smaller man with his body from hip to chest. Grasping Win‟s wrists in one hand, D.J. held them in place over his head. Win shivered, groaned, and bucked his hips. “Is this more what you had in mind, honey?” Win nipped at his ear. “You‟re making me crazy.” A chuckle, quickly followed by a warm, wet tongue running up Win‟s neck, was D.J.‟s only answer. “Fuck,” Win moaned, grinding his pelvis against the heavy weight leaning over him. “I‟d rather you didn‟t,” Ellis said from the doorway. “I think it might upset your daughter and her shrew of a mother, who are having a heated argument in the front showroom.” “Let me up, D.J.” Win shoved against his lover‟s shoulder. “I have to get in there before they kill each other.” D.J. pulled back but didn‟t let Win up from his position on the table. “I take it they don‟t get along?” Win shoved again. “That‟s putting it mildly. Now let me up.” A loud bang followed a high-pitched squeal and a shout. “Cousin, let the man up before Emily‟s mother comes looking for him.”

*** Standing at the bottom of the staircase to the second floor, D.J. listened as the music from his brother‟s stereo got louder. He couldn‟t help but grin, even if Ian should have been asleep an hour ago. While growing up, D.J. had stayed up past his bedtime on numerous occasions. He‟d just been more careful and avoided discovery by either of his parents. His dad would have blistered his hide or grounded him for a week if he‟d been caught listening to music after bedtime on a school night. D.J. waited in the dark. There. The creak in the floorboard just inside Ian‟s bedroom door—his old room. “Ian, get in bed and turn off the music and lights. Now!”

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“Shit!” “Ian Michael Jeffries, watch your mouth.” He heard Ian‟s door open, and the floorboard squeaked again. “Don‟t you ever sleep?” “If you flunk your math test in the morning because you didn‟t get enough sleep, you‟re not spending the night at Zack‟s tomorrow.” D.J. looked up at Ian standing at the top of the stairs. “You promised me.” “And there are consequences to not following the rules. You know studying comes first.” “I remember.” Ian started toward his room but stopped. “You seem happier lately. What‟s going on? “Can I answer that question another day? You need to go to sleep, and I need to take a shower before I turn in for the night.” “Sure, but don‟t forget. I still want an answer.” “I won‟t.” He smiled in his brother‟s direction. “Good night, Ian.” D.J. waited until he heard Ian‟s bedroom door close and the music turn off before he walked back to the kitchen. What to tell Ian and when? Should he wait until his brother was a little older to tell him he was gay or do it now? Ian would turn fourteen his next birthday. Would he know what being gay meant? What would he think when he learned his brother‟s boyfriend was his pediatrician, a man he liked and trusted? D.J. shook his head and groaned. This was not a conversation he‟d imagined having with his young brother for several more years, but D.J. didn‟t have a choice, and he knew it. It wasn‟t long before D.J. needed to be in bed himself. He started the dishwasher, cleaned out the sink, took out the trash, and filled the coffeepot. After he finished his end-of-the-day chores, he checked the doors, grabbed his beer, and headed upstairs, hating that he would sleep alone. Again. He had sex with men, but he never woke up with them. In fact, he hadn‟t spent an entire night with a guy, except Win, since sometime in high school. D.J. and the football team had been away overnight for an out-of-town regional meet during his senior year. He‟d had to sleep with one of his teammates and had spent a fidgety night afraid of waking up plastered to the other guy‟s body. The thought of getting the crap beat out of him by the other players had kept him on edge, and they‟d almost lost the game. Life hadn‟t gotten much better while he was at West Point. Sharing a room with his stud of a roommate had been murder for the first few weeks, but eventually, seeing the man naked became routine. Between long hours of class and more studying, D.J. had had little time to think about sex—at least not much. When he did have a few free hours, he spent them sleeping. No, the luxury of sex was reserved for long weekends miles away from home or while on vacation. D.J. walked into his bedroom and closed the door. He looked around the room and the first thing he saw was the rumpled sheets on half the empty bed. Win

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belonged there. It wasn‟t natural to expect a person to pretend they were something they weren‟t. For years, the government‟s unrealistic policy had put men and women dedicated to serving their country in jeopardy by needlessly forcing them to sneak around for sex, love, and companionship. Shaking his head in disgust, D.J. set his beer bottle on the dresser and headed to the bathroom, shedding his clothes as he moved through the room. His shirt landed on the chair, his jeans and briefs on the carpet, and his socks on the tiled floor next to the tub. A quick twist of his wrist and hot water spewed from the showerhead and steamed up the room, fogging the mirror. He stepped inside and let the hot water run down his body, relaxing the tense muscles in his neck and upper back. “Damn, that feels good,” D.J. groaned into the empty room. Planting one hand on the tiled wall in front of him, he leaned forward and wrapped his free hand around his rising erection. He stroked from tip to base and back again, feeling the tingling pleasure roll down his cock and up his spine. As the water continued to pound on his neck, his hand moved faster over his shaft. The burning friction drove his need higher, and he pumped his hips erratically. The sensation made his cock feel as if hundreds of tiny needles were pricking his overstimulated skin. His balls tightened against his body as his climax loomed closer. He was hot. Sweat rolled off his skin and dripped off his nose. He moved his hand faster and pressed a thick fingertip into the slit, pulling a deep rumble of pleasure from his chest as long, pearly streams of semen sputtered from his cock onto the ceramic tile. “Win.” D.J. grasped frantically for the towel bar as his knees buckled and gave out, and he landed in a crumbled heap on the floor. He turned off the faucets and pulled himself out of the tub. After grabbing a towel off the heated rack, he dried his skin so briskly that it caused a pleasant but stinging bite of pain. The thought of Win was in D.J.‟s head, and he couldn‟t get it out. What Win‟s skin felt like under his hands as he rubbed and stroked the heated flesh. What it smelled liked—sweet and musky, an addictive scent that made D.J.‟s nose twitch. Win‟s scent when he was aroused or had cum plastered over his chest and stomach was imprinted on D.J.‟s brain. He pulled another towel off the rack to wipe the vapor from the bathroom mirror and stared at his streaked reflection. “You‟re pathetic, Faulkner,” he mumbled as he jerked off his towel that encircled his hips. “Mooning over a man. Who would have thought.” The sound of his cell phone ringing pulled D.J.‟s attention away from the whatifs and whys swirling through his brain and back to the present. Dropping the wet towel on the bathroom floor, he strode back into the bedroom and stopped next to the nightstand. It had to be his cousin. Without looking at the caller ID, he flipped up the lid and barked into the phone, “What the hell do you want, Ellis?” “Ah…”

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“Ellis, I don‟t have all night.” There was silence for a few more seconds before a tentative “this isn‟t Ellis” came over the line. “I can talk to you later. I didn‟t mean to bother you.” “Shit. Win, honey. I didn‟t realize it was you. You‟re not bothering me.” “Are you certain? I probably shouldn‟t have called so late.” D.J. rolled his eyes. “Win, it‟s never too late to call me.” As he waited for Win to answer, D.J. pulled back the sheets and climbed into bed. “Did you call to hear my voice, or was something else on your mind?” “Your voice is very nice, but I was really calling to apologize for my ex-wife‟s behavior this morning. She was rude and inappropriate, which is unfortunately how she acts most of the time. That‟s why Emily doesn‟t have much to do with her.” “You‟re not responsible for her behavior, so don‟t apologize. I admit I can‟t understand how you stayed married to her for so many years.” Win snorted. “Stupid, I guess.” “I‟d say loyal and determined to protect your daughter.” “Why didn‟t you tell me you were a professional photographer?” D.J. grinned. “You‟re trying to change the subject.” “Answer the question, D.J.” “I guess it didn‟t occur to me. I haven‟t had a chance to use my camera since I flew home. Hell, I only brought one camera with me. Everything else is still back in North Carolina.” “So what kind of photographs do you take? Anything special?” “A little bit of everything; weddings, parties, a few graduations. Most of my clients are military.” He heard music and knew Win must have turned on some kind of sound system. “Are you self-taught, or did you take classes?” “Neither. My maternal grandfather was a professional photographer, and he gave me and Ellis our first thirty-five-millimeter cameras in junior high. He encouraged us to improve our techniques and even let us take shots at his hired events. We learned a lot from him, and by our senior year in high school, we were making money on our own.” “It must have been great getting to spend so much time with your cousin and grandfather.” “It was, and it built an unshakable bond between me and Ellis. He‟s my best friend, and I couldn‟t ask for a nicer guy to be partners with.” “You‟re damn lucky.” “That‟s for sure.” D.J. yawned so wide his jaw popped. “Sorry, honey. I didn‟t realize I was so tired.” “I didn‟t realize it was so late. I‟d better say good night so you can get to sleep.”

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It was true that he and Win both needed to get some rest, but he wasn‟t eager to end their conversation either, so he changed the subject before his lover could say good night. “Go out with me tomorrow night?” “Another date? You‟re asking me out on a date?” The amazement in Win‟s voice caused D.J. to smile. “Yes, another date, and don‟t ask—I‟m not telling you where we‟re going this time. It‟s going to be a surprise.” “On Fridays, the last patient scheduling block is at four o‟clock, and I should be able to leave by a quarter to five, if I‟m lucky.” “Good. I‟ll pick you up at the office, and we‟ll hit a bar for drinks and appetizers, and we‟ll go to dinner afterward. It starts at seven.” There was silence for a few seconds, and then Win sighed. “I hate to sound like a girl, but what should I wear to this secret location?” “Nothing fancy, but not jeans and T-shirts either. Think middle-of-the-road— slacks and a nice shirt or sweater. You‟ll look good no matter what you wear.” D.J. wasn‟t throwing out praise Win didn‟t deserve. Win did look good in whatever he wore, but he looked even better naked, spread out on a bed waiting for him, and naked was exactly how he planned to end their evening. “You‟re good for my ego, D.J. Yes, you are.” “Just call them as I see them, honey.”

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Chapter Eight When the elevator outside Win‟s office opened, D.J. stepped aside to allow inside a haggard-looking young mother who was pushing a stroller and dragging an uncooperative toddler. She looked up and smiled. “Thank you.” “It‟s my pleasure.” D.J. waited until the woman controlled her toddler before stepping out into the hall. He watched as she selected a floor, then grabbed the back of the child‟s shirt as he tried to bolt. That kid was a handful. No wonder the poor woman looked like she hadn‟t slept in a week, maybe even two. She probably couldn‟t turn her back before the little hellion was getting into trouble. D.J. shook his head, grateful Ian was long past those troublesome years. The door to Win‟s office opened as he reached it, and a small girl left holding the hand of a man who D.J. assumed was her father. His watch beeped. It was five o‟clock, which would explain why the waiting room was empty except for a grayhaired older woman straightening chairs and magazines. “I‟m sorry, but everyone has gone home for the day. Office hours are over.” D.J. moved farther into the room. “I‟m not here for an appointment. I‟m a friend of Win‟s—I mean, Dr. Morgan‟s.” “I‟m Ellen, his receptionist, and that must mean you‟re Captain Faulkner. Dr. Morgan‟s expecting you.” She moved toward the door leading to the back area. “Why don‟t I show you to his private office, and you can wait for him there. He‟s showering and changing clothes.” They walked through the door and into the hall, where D.J. caught a foul odor that made him cover his nose. “What‟s that terrible smell?” Ellen grinned and kept walking. “That‟s why he‟s showering. The last patient came in with a stomachache, and she threw up all over him.” “That little cutie I met leaving? She didn‟t have a spot on her.” “I know. I can‟t say the same for Dr. Morgan. I‟d be willing to bet his clothes went into the trash.” D.J. stopped in his tracks. “I hope he can get rid of the odor, or the evening isn‟t going to be too enjoyable.” “I heard that,” Win said from his office doorway. “And yes, I got the disgusting smell off, so you don‟t have to worry about it ruining your evening or your appetite.”

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He wasn‟t worrying. At least he wasn‟t now. D.J. stared at Win‟s chest and watched him button his shirt, thinking how much he‟d like to wrap his lips around one of his lover‟s little pink nipples and suck and lick until Win was screaming for mercy. D.J. moved closer, and their eyes locked briefly before D.J.‟s gaze strayed lower to the growing bulge in Win‟s dark gray trousers. “Have a good evening, Dr. Morgan,” Ellen said as she turned to go. “Don‟t forget to lock up and set the alarm when you leave.” “Yes, Mother.” Win waited until Ellen was out of sight before he grabbed D.J.‟s hand and dragged him inside his office. “Get in here so I can kiss you.” “Great idea.” As soon as the door closed behind them, D.J. slammed his mouth down over Win‟s. He pressed his tongue forward, demanding entrance. Win opened with a ragged sigh, and D.J.‟s tongue surged inside, tangling, stroking, and caressing the sensitive tissue within. He gripped Win‟s face in both hands and tipped his head, taking the kiss deeper, licking, nibbling, and biting until they were both panting. He pulled back enough to rest his forehead against Win‟s. “You‟d better finish getting dressed, or we‟ll never get out of here.” Win nipped at his jaw. “Would that be so bad?” “I asked you on a date, and we‟re going on a date.” A quick step back and a salute earned Win a sharp slap on the ass. “Hey, that hurt,” he said as he rubbed his buttock. “Don‟t bruise the goods.” “If you don‟t get moving, we‟re not going to have enough time for drinks and appetizers before seven. So move it, honey. Time‟s a-wasting.” “Are you certain you don‟t want to tell me where we‟re going?” D.J. crossed his arms over his chest and scowled at his lover. “I bet you‟re a real nag during the holiday season. You probably drove your mother crazy every year begging for hints and shaking your Christmas presents, trying to figure out what your family got you. I bet you even turned over the tree at least once.” Win unzipped his pants and tucked his shirt inside. “I‟m a successful medical professional, not a nag.” “Trust me. You‟re a nag.” Win glared for a few seconds before his lips tipped upward in a smile. “I prefer to think of it as prepared and informed.” “I just bet you do.” After he fastened his belt, Win stepped closer and wrapped his arms around D.J.‟s waist. “What‟s my reward if I don‟t ask you again where we‟re going this evening?” “Drinks and appetizers followed by two or three hours of enjoyment in a public place.” No matter how much Win hinted and whined, D.J. wasn‟t telling him exactly where they were going. “Afterward, I thought we‟d finish with dinner and a bottle of wine, or even two. Then we‟ll end the night as many other couples do.”

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“With wild, pounding, sweaty sex?” D.J. almost moaned. “No. I thought I‟d be a gentleman and take you to the door, kiss your cheek, and say good night.” “What?” Win squeaked. “Why would you want to do that?” “Because I‟m trying to show I‟m not interested in you only for the great sex.” After grabbing the front of D.J.‟s pants, Win pulled him forward until they were standing toe-to-toe. “If I didn‟t believe you were a good guy, I wouldn‟t have gotten involved with you, and…” “And what?” D.J. asked as he leaned down for another kiss. “I‟d like the night to end with wild, pounding, sweaty sex!” Win had thought of little else but D.J. and sex since he‟d crawled out of bed alone that morning, and jerking off in the shower had only helped for a few minutes. So much so, that during lunch he‟d had to thump his dick several times just to get his misbehaving erection to go down enough to see his next patient. Even then, it was a constant battle to keep his mind off his lover and on the patients, which had made for a long and tedious afternoon. D.J. laughed and leaned down for a quick peck on the lips. “I like how you think.” Win shoved against his chest. “If I‟d been thinking about anything but you and sex, I might have managed to jump back before little Amanda Younger threw up all over my clothes.” The strange, high-pitched wail of an alarm sounded, and D.J. automatically put himself between Win and the doorway. “What the hell is going on?” “Shit.” Win tried to move around the solid body standing in his way but stopped in his tracks when D.J. wrapped his hand around his wrist. “You‟re not going anywhere until I know it‟s safe.” “I had several panic alarms installed in the office in case of danger. The one going off is coming from the reception area.” He pulled but couldn‟t break free. “I need to see what‟s going on.” D.J. opened the door. “You stay behind me, or so help me, I will paddle your ass so hard you won‟t be able to sit down for a week.” When they moved into the hall, Win heard Ellen yell, “You can‟t go back there.” As the door to the front opened, D.J. shoved Win into a nearby alcove, which housed an open linen closet and electronic baby scale. “Stay put.” “Are you always this bossy?” “Yes!” D.J. kept his eyes on the doorway. “What I wouldn‟t give for a gun right now.” “I have one locked inside my right-hand desk drawer. Should I go get it?”

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“No!” D.J. snapped as he grasped his elbow. “Why didn‟t you say something before we left your office?” “I‟m not comfortable with it.” D.J. rolled his eyes. “Trust me. You will be after I drag your ass to the firing range a few dozen times.” Win tried to look around the corner, but D.J. jerked him back. Before Win could try again, his cell phone started to ring. After pulling it from the holder attached to his belt, Win glanced at the caller ID view screen. “It‟s the alarm company.” Without waiting for D.J. to answer, he flipped open the lid. “Hello.” “Dr. Morgan, our computer shows something triggered the alarm in your reception area. Is anyone hurt? Is everything okay?” “I‟m fine, but I don‟t know what‟s going on out front.” “I‟ve notified the police department, and officers should be arriving on the scene any minute. It would be best if you stayed on the line until they arrive. I‟m turning off the alarm now.” “Thank you.” Putting his hand over the mouthpiece, Win turned toward D.J., only to find him gone. “D.J.” He looked down the hall. “D.J.” Then he looked back toward the reception area door when he heard raised voices. “Shit!” The sound of his lover saying, “Just calm down. You‟re going to make yourself sick,” had Win racing up the hall. He stopped in the open doorway to the reception area, shocked to see his exwife huddled in a chair, tears rolling down her red, blotchy face. Win glanced around the room, and his shoulders sagged with relief when he saw Ellen and D.J. unharmed. He walked across the room and knelt next to Janet‟s chair. The strong odor of alcohol almost knocked him over. What was Janet doing in his office, and why was she drunk? She couldn‟t tolerate alcohol, and a couple of small glasses of wine made her tipsy, even on a full stomach. Her tears showed she‟d had far more than two drinks. More like a full bottle. Win couldn‟t understand what could have happened to cause her to resort to drinking. It didn‟t make sense. What made even less sense was why she sitting in his office instead of at home crying on the shoulder of her husband. “Janet. Tell me what‟s wrong.” “Emily hates me.” Just as Win was about to answer, two armed police officers stepped through the open outer door with guns drawn. “Everybody stay where you are.” Even though he expected them, the arrival of the police startled Win, and he lost his balance. He hit his head on a nearby heavy wooden table leg. “That hurt.” “Win, are you all right?” D.J. moved toward his lover but stopped when he saw a gun pointed at them. Hands raised, D.J. stepped closer to his lover. “Answer me. Are you hurt?”

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The older of the two officers moved farther into the room. “An alarm sounded. Would one of you please tell me what‟s going on?” Ellen stepped forward. “I guess I overreacted and hit the panic button.” She pointed at Janet. “Mrs. Bennington stormed in while I was getting ready to leave for the evening, demanding to speak with Dr. Morgan. I tried to tell her the office had closed for the weekend, but she wouldn‟t take no for an answer and knocked me into one of the chairs.” Win turned a horrified face on his ex-wife. “What is wrong with you, Janet?” “I told you,” she wailed. “Our daughter hates me.” So much for having drinks and appetizers before going on their date. At the speed the evening was slipping away, they were going to be lucky to finish with the police and get rid of Janet before their date‟s seven-o‟clock-start time D.J. had mentioned earlier. The older officer nodded in D.J.‟s direction at the same time he lowered his gun. “Give the man a hand. Which one of you is Dr. Morgan?” “That would be me,” Win said as D.J. helped him to his feet. He touched his temple, wincing as his fingers connected with a small raised knot. Janet continued to cry and rock, paying little attention to what was going on around her. The other officer stepped behind D.J. “I suggest someone starts explaining. Now!” “Are you blind?” D.J. glared at the younger officer. “Can‟t you see the woman‟s upset?” Win touched D.J.‟s wrist to get his attention. “Look, I don‟t know exactly what happened, but my guess would be another argument between my daughter, Emily, and my ex-wife. They‟ve had an uneasy, volatile relationship, and it‟s only gotten worse since our daughter became engaged. The wedding plans and expenses are driving them both crazy and taking me along for the ride, if you know what I mean.” As Win stepped forward, the older officer extended his hand. “I‟m Tim Patterson, and I know exactly what you mean. My wife and daughter are fighting like cats and dogs over the wedding they‟re planning. At this point, I‟d be grateful if the kids eloped and saved me the headache.” Win and the officer shook hands. “I understand perfectly. I feel the same way about my daughter‟s wedding most days.” D.J. pointedly ignored the younger officer and instead turned his attention to Tim Patterson. “The alarm sounding was a mistake. Do you think Ellen could go home for the night?” “And I‟ll call Janet‟s husband to pick her up,” Win finished. “They don‟t live far.”

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All eyes shifted across the room at the sound of retching. “Win, I think I‟m going to be sick.” Janet clasped her hand over her mouth and retched a second time. “I don‟t feel well.” “Ellen, grab a basin.” Win pointed to the ledge of the reception window. “Quick.”

*** The headlights from an oncoming bus lit up the car‟s interior, giving D.J. a brief look at Win‟s face. His eyes were closed, and his head was back against the headrest. His breathing was deep and even, as if he was sound asleep. As frustrated as he was by the way the evening had started, D.J. couldn‟t help but smile. Win was an attractive, sexy man when he was awake, but when he was asleep, the first word that popped into D.J.‟s mind was cute. What surprised D.J. most was how much he enjoyed the cuddling, considering he‟d never had the luxury of spending the night with another man. In fact, he was usually uncomfortable with any physical contact he had with his sex partners that wasn‟t related to foreplay or the sex act itself. Which explained why he never slept with the men he hooked up with. It might have been a professional and emotional defense mechanism to keep his military career intact and heart whole, but it still left him feeling disjointed, alone, and unsettled. That wasn‟t the case with Win. With Win, he wanted to do all the normal things his years of military service had denied him, while the government supported in others: love, home, family, and commitment. It was a life he‟d rarely considered in the past, at least not until he‟d finished his military service and retired, and now that long-dreamed-of life was staring him in the face. He just wished his mother and stepfather hadn‟t had to die for him to get it. A quick look at the digital clock on the dash caused D.J. to groan. It was almost 8:15, and they were late for the opening. It had taken longer than expected to finish with the police, but what took the longest was locating Janet‟s husband and then waiting almost forty-five minutes for the man to arrive to collect her. If Janet had had her house keys, they could have driven her home themselves. “Stop thinking so hard,” Win mumbled from the other side of the car. “You‟re going to give yourself a headache.” “I thought you were asleep.” Win yawned. “You thought wrong. I was resting my eyes.” “Yeah, right.” D.J. grinned. “That‟s why you were snoring.” “I do not snore.” Without taking his eyes off the traffic, D.J. reached over the stick shift to Win‟s left leg. “I hate to burst your delusional bubble, but you snore—loudly.” He removed his hand, signaled, and pulled to the side of the road. "It‟s getting late, and you‟ve had a long, hard day. Would you prefer to postpone our date until another day?”

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Win sat upright. “After the little episode with Janet and the police, are you trying to get rid of me?” “I never said that. Don‟t put words in my mouth.” “I‟m not. I‟m giving you a chance to change your mind, if that‟s what you want.” “It‟s not. I‟m trying to be thoughtful.” To keep from growling in frustration, D.J. clamped his teeth together so tight his jaws ached. He took a series of slow, deep breaths and relaxed his white-knuckle grip on the steering wheel. D.J. didn‟t want to back out of their date, but he knew Win was exhausted or he wouldn‟t have spent the last twenty minutes napping. The man hadn‟t even woken when a motorcycle revved by. Instead of arguing, he decided on another course of action. He‟d kiss some sense into his irritated lover‟s mind. With that intent, he leaned over the area separating their seats, grabbed Win‟s jaw, and pressed their mouths together, then shoved his tongue inside. Tipping Win‟s head, he stroked and teased the tissue behind his teeth, until they were both panting and the windows had begun to fog over. He pulled back without releasing Win‟s face. “I‟m not the bad guy here, and I‟m not trying to get rid of you.” “Good. I‟ve been looking forward to your surprise.” D.J. kissed him again. “Good. So have I.” He shifted the truck into drive, flashed Win a smile, and signaled to move back onto the roadway. “Try to stay awake. I don‟t want you to miss anything.” “At the moment, all I‟m missing is your lips on mine.” “If you keep talking like that, by the time we get to our destination, I‟ll be hard as a rock.” “I‟m so sorry,” Win replied in a tone that suggested he wasn‟t. “I‟d hate for you to get blue balls.” He reached between D.J.‟s legs. “Oops. Feels like you‟re already there.” The firm touch of Win wrapping his fingers around his balls caused D.J. to jerk the steering wheel to the right. “What is wrong with you?” he growled. “Are you trying to kill us before we get to the exhibit?” Win stilled his fingers but left them between D.J.‟s legs. “What exhibit?” D.J. turned off West Dale into an overflowing parking lot. “Tonight, a special traveling exhibit of Egyptian artifacts opens at the Colorado Springs Fine Art Center.” “What made you think I‟d want to go?” “I saw a brochure on your kitchen cabinet, and you had the date circled on the calendar hanging next to your desk.” “How‟d you get tickets for opening night?” Win asked. “There weren‟t any available when I called a few days ago.”

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D.J. turned off the engine and climbed out of the car, then waited until Win stood next to him before answering. “One of my stepfather‟s best friends is on the board of trustees. When I discovered you wanted to go, I called, and he got me the tickets.” “It‟s a great surprise. I couldn‟t be happier.” Win pulled D.J. away from the walkway. He stood on tiptoe and placed a quick kiss on D.J.‟s cheek. “Thank you.” “You‟re welcome, honey. I wanted to do something special for you.” Moving through the huge throng of people to the brightly lit entrance, D.J. was grateful he hadn‟t been wrong about Win‟s interest in the Egyptian artifacts. An error in judgment could have ruined his surprise fast, but between the brochures, several books on Egyptian history sitting on Win‟s nightstand, and the DVDs on the coffee table, the art center exhibit was a great surprise date. His man‟s gorgeous green eyes were almost glowing as he moved through the crowd, stopping and staring at each display they passed. He spent countless minutes reading each information card before moving on to the next case. D.J. watched as Win‟s fingers ghosted over several of the glass cases, causing a security guard to glare at his man each time he raised his hand. When he reached for another case, D.J. sighed and wrapped his hand around Win‟s wrist at the same time D.J. nodded to his left. “If you touch one more display case, that surly-looking guard is going to throw us out of here.” Win jerked his hand away. “Sorry. Egyptian history‟s fascinated me since I was in high school. I‟d love to spend several weeks exploring Egypt and to see the Cairo Museum of Egyptian Antiquities someday.” “That‟s kind of difficult when you have patients and an office staff depending on you.” “I know. That‟s why my vacation next spring is to the University of Pennsylvania‟s Museum of Archaeology and Anthropology. It houses one of the largest collections of Egyptian and Nubian artifacts in the United States.” D.J. squeezed Win‟s hand. “I‟d kill for a glass of champagne. Would you like one?” Win squeezed back, then let his hand drop. “I‟d love a glass—” “Of champagne,” said a small redhead as she handed Win a glass flute. “I thought I recognized your backside from across the room.” “Lyndsay, for crying out loud, do you have to talk so loud?” The strange woman‟s comment turned D.J.‟s blood to ice, and it took all the self-control he had not to jerk Win away from the grinning, pale-skinned beauty. He and Win might have an exclusive agreement, but that didn‟t mean he liked having a former lover thrown in his face. It wasn‟t good for his ego or his heart. She took a sip of champagne, then stood on tiptoe to kiss Win‟s cheek. “Don‟t be such a prude. You know I think you have a cute butt.” “Are you trying to embarrass me to death in front of my boyfriend?” Win whispered. He looked around. “Where‟s Greg? You need a keeper.”

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“I‟m hungry. He‟s getting a plate of appetizers.” Greg? Who the hell was Greg? “Would you like to explain why Lyndsay is kissing you?” “What kind of question is that?” “One I need an answer to.” “You can‟t…” Win gulped down the remains of his champagne and placed the empty glass on the tray of a passing waiter. “After agreeing not to share, you can‟t possibly believe I‟m involved with Lyndsay.” A large fist wrapped around D.J.‟s heart. “It‟s okay, Win. You don‟t owe me an explanation.” “I‟m not being evasive, D.J. You just surprised me with the question.” “Stop.” Lyndsay rested her hand on D.J.‟s arm. “Stop it. Both of you. I wasn‟t trying to start trouble with the drink or the kiss. Win and I have been best friends since we met in high school. We went to college together. He‟s like a brother to me.” Win scanned the area immediately around them as if afraid someone would overhear. “Yes, like a brother, you big, oversize jerk. Stop acting like a jealous idiot or you‟re going to ruin our evening.” D.J. frowned at Win‟s irritated tone. “Oh hell, honey.” Ignoring Lyndsay, D.J. backed Win closer to the wall. “I‟m an idiot.” “Tell me something I don‟t already know.” D.J. stared at Win for a few seconds, taking in the angry flush of his cheeks, the tight jaw and narrowed lips, hoping what he had to say would make him understand. “I‟ve never had a boyfriend, and it hurt seeing another person kiss you.” Win‟s eyes widened. “What do you mean you‟ve never had a boyfriend?” “I couldn‟t take the chance of having my sexuality exposed and getting thrown out of the army, so scattered one-night stands are all I‟ve ever had.” “At least I had Jack for a few years. I‟m sorry you‟ve been alone for so long.” “Doesn‟t matter. It‟s not as if your life was any picnic married to Janet. God, what a nightmare that must have been. How did you stand it?” Win shrugged. “I don‟t know. I just did.” “You‟re a stronger man than me.” “Emily was worth the sacrifice.” “I had my own sacrifice. I wanted to stay in the army and serve my country. My life was lonely by choice.” Win fisted the front of D.J.‟s spotless gray shirt and pulled him closer until only inches separated their chests. “And now?” “As I‟ve recently learned, circumstances change and I need to decide what‟s best for Ian and me.” “I hope it‟s a decision I‟ll like.”

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“You‟ll be one of the first to know.” “Okay, that‟s enough sappy stuff for one evening,” Lyndsay said as she pulled on D.J.‟s shoulder. “If I hear another comment sweet enough to cause tooth decay, I‟m going to slap both of you.” A grin brightened Win‟s face. “She would too.” “She would what?” asked a black-haired, green-eyed man, holding a plate loaded with small appetizers. Greg looked from Win to Lyndsay. “What‟d I miss?” Win snagged a cube of cheddar cheese and popped it in his mouth. “Your lady friend—sweet little Lyndsay causing a misunderstanding between me”—he grinned at D.J.—“and my man.” “I swear, woman. I can‟t leave you alone for a minute without trouble rearing its ugly head, and it‟s got your name written all over it.”

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Chapter Nine Win had never experienced make-up sex before, but what people said was true. It was the best sex imaginable, and he had the sore ass, cock, and nipples to prove it. It wasn‟t a bad sore, but a bone-deep “I‟ve had the best sex of my life” feeling that left him happy, content, and satisfied. More at ease in his own skin than he‟d ever been in his life; even more than when he and Jack had lived together during college. There wasn‟t a square inch of his body that hadn‟t felt the tender caresses and gentle nips of D.J.‟s teeth, lips, and hands. Just thinking of the hours he and D.J. had spent making love on nearly every available surface in his house had his penis thickening and pushing against the sheet that lay across his thighs. He palmed his erection and stroked up the shaft. A groan of pleasure ripped from his throat as the throbbing pressure sent a zing racing up his spine. D.J. slapped his hand away. “Hey, that‟s mine.” “Oh really.” Win wrapped his hand around D.J.‟s erect cock and squeezed. “I guess that makes this mine.” “God, yes. Just don‟t stop what you‟re doing.” “Like that, do you?” Win gave the dick in his hand another squeeze. “How‟d you like to share a shower this morning, stud?” “Aren‟t you sore?” D.J. stroked Win‟s hip. “I was pretty rough on you last night.” Win swung his legs over the edge of the bed and pulled on D.J.‟s wrist. “You didn‟t do anything I didn‟t ask you to.” He tugged on his wrist again. “Move it, Mister.” D.J. yawned and let Win pull him off the bed. “Are you always so pushy first thing in the morning?” “I want you to fuck me, and if we don‟t hurry, we‟ll run out of time before you need to leave in an hour.” D.J. glanced at the clock. “That means if we play for thirty minutes, I‟ll still have thirty to get dressed and make coffee.” He shoved Win toward the bathroom. “Start the shower, and I‟ll get a condom.” Now that Win had decided to start the morning off with a frisky shower romp with D.J., all he could think about was getting the man wet and soapy under a stream of hot water. He strode into the bathroom like his tail was on fire, grabbed the towels off the rod, and threw them on the edge of the sink.

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Next he opened a new squeeze bottle of herbal pine soap, hoping D.J. liked the smell as much as he did. It might have been a juvenile idea, but the thought they‟d carry the same scent on their skin all day made his already erect cock even harder and more painful. “Where the hell is D.J.?” he mumbled as he reached down to turn on the water. “We‟re wasting time. Hurry!” By the time the faucets were adjusted to a skin-tingling hot temperature D.J. was still absent. Where‟d the man go? “D.J., what‟s taking so long? Get in here.” “I can‟t find the condom box,” he yelled back. “Look under the bed.” Seconds later, a very aroused D.J. appeared at the door. “We only have two left.” “Enough for now.” Win pointed at his leaking dick. “Get in before I jump you.” D.J. arched an eyebrow but stepped into the tub and pulled Win in after him. “We don‟t have much time. Turn around. This is going to be hard and fast.” While D.J. struggled to tear open the small foil packet, Win poured a small amount of waterproof lubricant onto his fingers. He didn‟t wait for it to warm but slammed two fingers into his hole, the burn and stretch perfect. “I‟m ready. Do it.” Win leaned his forehead against the tile and used both hands to pull his ass cheeks apart. “Give it to me.” “Gladly.” D.J. pressed the head of his cock against Win‟s waiting hole. The anticipation of being filled with D.J.‟s long, thick cock almost made Win light-headed. He bore down as the mushroom-shaped head slipped past the first ring of muscle. His body tingled as fire raced along his spine, turning his nipples into hard pebbles. With a grip on Win‟s hips guaranteed to leave bruises, D.J. slowly sank in to the root. “Fuck me hard,” Win whispered. “I want to feel you all day.” “I don‟t want to hurt you.” “You won‟t.” He pulled away slightly and slammed back in as hard as he could in the small space. “Give me what I need.” D.J.‟s withdrew his cock and pushed back into Win‟s chute, going deep. Win moaned in satisfaction. There wasn‟t anything he liked better in the morning than hard, rough sex, even if the last few years that meant him, lube, and a dildo. The hard in-and-out rhythm D.J. set was brutal, but just what Win wanted, and when D.J.‟s inward thrusts lifted him off the ground, Win knew he wasn‟t going to last much longer. A perfectly timed thrust pegged his gland so hard that lights flashed in front of his eyes. “That what you want?” D.J. grunted between strokes. “Can you take more?” “Bite me,” Win begged. “Bite me.”

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A hard bite on the shoulder was just what Win needed to push him over the edge without ever touching himself. “Fuck,” he yelled as his cock erupted in stream after stream of warm seed. “You like that.” After two more fast, hard thrusts, D.J. buried his cock ballsdeep in Win‟s ass before calling out Win‟s name. Win was carefully lowered to the floor, and D.J.‟s cock slipped free, causing them both to groan at the loss. “As much as I loved that, now I need a nap.” “Bastard. I‟d like nothing better than to crawl back in bed with you, but I told Ian I‟d pick him up at ten. I just hope he‟s awake and dressed when I get to Ellis and Camille‟s.” “What are you and Ian doing over the weekend?” D.J. toweled his hair. “I don‟t know. I thought I‟d let him decide after I find out how much how homework he has to do over the weekend.” “Slave driver.” Win yawned. “If he wants to get in a good school, he has to get good grades.” D.J. wrapped the towel around his hips. “One thing I do need to do is take him to the mall for new jeans. He‟s growing like a weed and his favorite pairs are getting too short, and he‟s been complaining his shoes are too tight.” “He‟s at that age.” Win yawned again. “Yeah, I think a nap‟s definitely in order.” “That‟s so not fair,” D.J. grumbled.

*** Monday morning, D.J. came out of the store with a large steaming cup of coffee in one hand and a package of gum in the other. Thank God for combination gasstation/convenience stores. He hadn‟t realized he‟d run out of coffee until he‟d tried to make a pot that morning and found the can empty, so stopping at the convenience store served a dual purpose. It filled up his gas tank with fuel and his body with its needed jolt of caffeine. As he climbed into the truck, his cell phone started to ring. He managed to get the coffee into the drink holder without splashing the hot liquid on anything but the back of his hand. “Shit, that hurts like a son of a bitch.” “What the hell do you want?” he snarled into the phone. “Well, good morning to you to, Cousin.” After grabbing some tissues, D.J. wiped the coffee off his hand. “I burned myself, thanks to your ill-timed call.” “Glad I could get your morning off to such a blistering start.” “Not funny, Ellis.” He grinned. “That‟s a matter of opinion. Anyway, I called to find out what time I can expect you at the studio. We‟ve got a couple of brides coming in this morning for a look-see of our work.”

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D.J. turned on the engine, signaled, and pulled out onto the street. “After I drop off my discharge papers at the base, I‟ll need to go by the house to change out of my uniform. It shouldn‟t take too long. ” He looked at his watch. “It‟s nine now, so with any luck, I should get to work by eleven.” “Perfect, you‟ll make the second appointment.” Ellis cleared his throat. “I‟ve been meaning to mention it, but you might want to consider talking to Ian about who you‟re spending time with. Every time he comes over here, he hounds us, and Camille and I don‟t know what to tell him aside from ask you. It‟s obvious he hasn‟t, so you need to tell him.” His brother was a smart kid, and it surprised D.J. that he hadn‟t asked more questions sooner. “Thanks for the heads-up. I‟ll take care of it.” And he would, the first chance he got, which he hoped meant tonight, but first he needed to talk to Win. “See you soon.” Immediately after his call to Ellis ended, D.J. scrolled through his phone list until he found Win‟s number. He hoped his lover wasn‟t in with his first patient, since his question needed an answer. “Hello?” “Hey, honey. Do you have a minute to talk?” “D.J.” The warmth he heard in Win‟s voice made him smile. “Yes, my next patient isn‟t for five minutes.” “I have a question for you, and it‟s all right if you say no.” “You sound serious.” The line was silent for a few seconds. “Okay, ask me.” “I need to have the „I‟m gay‟ talk with Ian.” “That‟s not a question.” D.J. groaned and drove around a slow-moving van. “He‟s starting to ask questions, and I want to know if I have your approval to tell him we‟re involved.” “I‟d like that. I‟d like that a lot.” D.J. smiled so wide his jaws popped. “Great. I‟ll talk to him tonight.” “Call me after you talk to him. I don‟t care how late.” “I will, honey. I‟ll let you get to your patients. Have a good day.” After the call ended, D.J. pulled through the base front gate and drove to the parking lot assigned to his department. He turned off the engine, grabbed the file with his paperwork, and left the truck, then locked the door behind him. When D.J. entered the room, Major Collins‟s clerk was sitting behind his wide desk. D.J. dropped the file folder on the cluttered desktop, startling the young clerk. “The major is expecting these papers. Can you make certain he gets them?” “I‟d be happy to, Captain, but he said he wanted to see you when you came in.” Great. He‟d wanted to get in and out of the office without seeing or speaking to his soon-to-be ex-commanding officer. It wasn‟t that D.J. didn‟t like the man, because he didn‟t know him well enough to have formed an opinion. It was more

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that he was ready to move on, and saluting and maintaining military protocol no longer held any interest for him. Today was likely the last time he‟d ever have his uniform on, which was fine with him. D.J. walked to the closed door, knocked, and waited until he heard, “Enter,” before opening the door. He stepped inside and before moving farther into the room, stood quietly until Major Collins recognized his presence. D.J. saluted. “You wanted to see me, sir?” “At ease. Have a seat, Captain.” He said, “Yes, sir. Thank you, sir,” when what he wanted to do was ignore the order, turn around, and walk back out the door. The major leaned forward, resting his elbows on the desk surface and steepling his fingers in front of his face. His hands dropped to his desktop. “Have you made your decision?” “Yes, sir. I gave my paperwork to your clerk.” “Very good. I think it best, considering.” D.J. schooled his face to remain solemn, uncertain what the major was talking about or where the conversation was going. “How‟s that, sir?” “Despite your outstanding record and dedication, I‟ve heard rumors floating around about you and your personal conduct that I find disturbing.” He held up his hand as D.J. started to speak. “I know our government‟s policy concerning gays in the military is in danger of being repealed, but it doesn‟t change my belief that your kind hasn‟t any business in sensitive military positions.” “My kind?” D.J. gritted out. “I have no idea what you‟re talking about, sir.” Major Collins leaned back in his chair. “I think you know exactly what I‟m talking about, Captain. You‟ve been careful throughout your military career, but it doesn‟t change what you are, and unlike Nelson, I believe the rumors.” “What I am is a dedicated soldier, but it seems you don‟t see me in that light.” “Oh, I have no doubt of your loyalty and training. That‟s not the point.” “Then please explain to me what the point is.” Collins called for his clerk. “Bring in Captain Faulkner‟s papers.” “Yes, sir. Right away, sir.” D.J. waited while Major Collins signed the papers and the clerk left the office again. “So, even though I‟m highly trained, loyal, and decorated, you‟d rather I leave the army—stop serving my country?” “Yes, I would.” “Even though public-opinion polls and Congress favor the change, you still think Nelson is better suited for a command position?” “Definitely.”

***

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D.J. had learned a lot since he‟d become a single parent, including how to plan and prepare well-balanced, nutritious meals a growing boy with fussy tastes would eat. Tonight was no different, except for his wanting the meal to be Ian‟s favorite foods. D.J. figured if he fixed food his brother really enjoyed, Ian would be in a good mood for their talk. As he waited for Ian to get home from his after-school visit with Zack, D.J. mixed up the ingredients for his mother‟s chicken-parmesan meatballs, stopping off and on to stir the doctored-up spaghetti sauce simmering on the stovetop. He dipped a spoon into the bubbling sauce for a quick taste before turning off the burner and sliding the pan off the heat. As the sauce cooled, he pulled the cookie sheet holding the meatballs out of the oven. Ever since Ellis had mentioned Ian asking questions, DJ knew he had to tell his brother the truth, but that didn‟t make it easy. He‟d thought about what to say since and once he‟d gotten to the studio, he and Ellis had talked through several different scenarios to explain how long he‟d known he was gay, and who his boyfriend was. D.J. hated to admit it, but he worried that his brother wouldn‟t understand or would reject him in disgust. D.J. shook his head, refusing to believe his sexuality would make a difference to his little brother. Thinking a beer might improve his anxious mood, D.J. grabbed a beer from the refrigerator. He‟d just twisted off the lid when he heard the front door open and Ian call out, “D.J., I‟m home. What‟s for dinner? I‟m starving.” “You‟re always starving,” D.J. yelled back. “Sometimes I think you have a bottomless pit for a stomach.” Ian walked into the kitchen and dropped his backpack on the floor next to the desk. “Mom used to say I ate so much because I‟m a growing boy.” “She used to say the same about me.” “I‟ve been thinking about Mom and Dad a lot lately. Do you care that we don‟t have the same father? I mean, you still love me. Right?” D.J. set his beer on the counter and pulled Ian into his arms, even if, at his age, his brother might not like it. “Of course I love you, you dork. It doesn‟t matter that we have different fathers. We‟re family. That‟s what important.” He ruffled his brother‟s hair. “Don‟t you think so?” Ian grinned back. “Yeah, I do.” He sniffed and moved closer. “So, what‟s for dinner?” “Your favorites. Chicken-parmesan meatball subs, and chips.” “Great, let‟s eat. I told Zack I‟d call him after dinner.” The two siblings worked in companionable silence, making their subs and topping each with mozzarella before sticking them under the broiler for a few seconds. After he‟d removed both sandwiches, D.J. placed a large handful of chips on each plate and poured Ian a glass of diet soda. He grabbed his beer and nodded toward the table. “Okay, Ian, have a seat. We need to talk.”

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Ian narrowed his eyes suspiciously. “You‟ve changed your mind about leaving the army, haven‟t you? I don‟t want to move. You said we could stay here.” “Stop putting words in my mouth.” D.J. ran his hand through his hair, still uncertain how to start. “I‟d planned on having this conversation after dinner, but now will work as well.” He shoved Ian‟s plate closer to him. “Eat while I talk.” “Fine, whatever.” Ian picked up his sandwich. Here it was, the conversation he‟d been dreading, and D.J. still couldn‟t decide how to start. How did other people do this? How did they explain to their loved ones that they were different? Were they as uncomfortable as he was this second? Did they fear rejection, or did they expect understanding and support? Would Ian freak out, or would he shrug it off and say fine, whatever? The questions raced through D.J.‟s mind like a fast-moving car on a racetrack as he stared across the table, watching his brother take the first bite of dinner. “Much of what makes a person special, like their eye color, hair color, whether their teeth come in straight or crooked, and how tall they‟ll be as an adult, is determined before they‟re born. The same is true of whether someone is good at math, sports, music, or art. You can study for all of them, but natural or inborn talent…” D.J. stopped midsentence, seeing the bored expression on his brother‟s face. “Can I have more cheese on my sandwich?” “What?” He held out his plate. “More cheese, please.” After taking Ian‟s plate, D.J. climbed to his feet. He walked the short distance to the kitchen island. While he put cheese on Ian‟s sandwich and placed it back under the broiler, he started talking again. “Anyway, the same goes for whether a man has an attraction to a woman or another man, but there are some men who like both. It just depends on the person.” He looked up, hoping his brother understood. “Does that make sense?” Ian picked up a chip and shoved it in his mouth, watching his brother as he chewed. “Are you trying to tell me you‟re gay?” Had he heard right? D.J. shook his head and stared. “Wha-what?” he stammered. “You‟re gay…right? “How‟d you know?” “Remember when you came home on leave last spring for my birthday party?” How could I forget? Ian‟s party was huge, with no fewer than fifty of his closest and loudest friends. “What I remember is the mess I helped clean up after everyone left.” “Hey, I helped.” Ian grinned. “A little.” “A very little.”

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Ian swallowed and took a sip of soda. “Anyway, after you flew back to Fort Bragg, I asked Dad why you never brought a girlfriend with you, and he told me you‟d never bring a girl home since you were gay.” D.J. slumped against the cabinet. How was that possible? He‟d never told his parents, had never mentioned his sexuality to any of his relatives, except Ellis, who‟d discovered it by accident when they were seniors in high school. “I can‟t believe they knew. I never told them.” “Dad said being in the army meant you had to be extra careful, or they‟d throw you out.” A look of confusion crossed Ian‟s face. “I don‟t understand. Why would they do that if you were doing your job? That‟s just stupid.” “Sometimes people are afraid of change, so they make decisions that are selfserving and try to punish people they feel threatened by. That‟s what your dad meant by being careful. It meant keeping my mouth shut and not letting others know I didn‟t like women as anything other than friends; that I like men. I couldn‟t say anything without the risk of getting thrown out.” He shrugged. “Sounds dumb, doesn‟t it?” “Yeah, it does. So, why are you telling me now?” “I turned my papers in today. Being a civilian means I don‟t have to be so careful.” He paused for a second. “But I want to talk to you about something else too.” “You‟ve got a boyfriend, don‟t you? When do I get to meet him?” Ian chewed on his lower lip. “What happens if he doesn‟t like me?” “I don‟t see that as a problem,” D.J. rushed to reassure him. “He already knows you.” “Who is it?” Ian demanded loudly. “Tell me. Tell me!” This was going to be fun, if his brother didn‟t puke from excitement first. “Guess.” “No! Tell me.” “I‟ll give you a few hints, and don‟t forget you know him.” D.J. tapped his chin. “He‟s older than me and is several inches shorter. He has bright green eyes and black hair, a mustache, and a beard.” “That sounds like Dr. Morgan.” Damn, his brother was sharp. “That‟s because it is Dr. Morgan.” “Are you kidding me?” “No, I‟m not.” D.J. chuckled and shook his head. “Do you remember me telling you some guys liked both men and woman? Well, liking people of both sexes has a name; it‟s called bisexual, and that‟s what Win is. He was married for a few years and has a grown daughter, but now he‟s divorced.” “And he‟s your boyfriend?” “Yeah, he is. What do you think?”

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“I told you at the office that Dr. Morgan was a great guy.” His brother‟s easy acceptance over his choice of a lover caused D.J. to smile. He‟d worried about this talk all day, and it had gone much better than he‟d ever imagined. Not to mention, he‟d learned that his stepfather, the man he had admired most in the world, had known about his sexuality and loved him nonetheless. Now that his “gay talk” was over, D.J. was starving. He walked to the table, picked up his sandwich and took a huge bite, getting sauce all over his mouth. “This is good.” “Have you told Grandma and Grandpa yet?” “Not yet,” D.J. admitted. “But I will.” “Are we going to live together?” D.J. wanted to say yes, but couldn‟t. “Maybe someday.” “What should I call him?” “Until he says otherwise, I think it best to continue calling him, Dr. Morgan.” “Okay.” Ian stuffed another chip in his mouth. “I don‟t know what breed I want, but can I have a dog? Please?” “Yes, but not until we move.” Ian‟s whoop of happiness just about deafened him. D.J. swallowed, wiped his mouth, and drained his bottle of beer. “After you finish your homework and take a bath, I‟ll try to answer every question you have. What I want you to remember is that for now you can‟t tell anyone, and I mean anyone, about me and Win.”

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Chapter Ten Coffee. He needed his coffee, and the coffeemaker wasn‟t working fast enough. Instead of cleaning up the breakfast dishes, D.J. stood over the machine, staring and urging it to work more quickly. “Come on, come on. Faster!” Maybe he could get a long, flexible straw that would reach from the pot to the table or a small, thin hose so he could drink the entire pot like one huge mug. Just as D.J. grabbed a box of artificial sweetener from the cabinet, the doorbell rang and rang and rang. “Forget it. I need my coffee.” He picked up the pot and poured. Except the person leaning on the bell wasn‟t giving up. He‟d just added creamer to his mug when the pounding started. D.J. decided to ignore it, drink his coffee, and read the paper. “What the hell is going on out there?” When the pounding continued, he grabbed his coffee and stalked to the front door. Holding his mug in one hand, D.J. jerked the front door open with the other. “What‟s going on?” he asked sleepily. “I probably should have called, but I was worried when you didn‟t call last night.” He blinked in confusion. “Honey, what are you doing here?” Win stepped inside. “You said you‟d call after talking to Ian. Why didn‟t you?” D.J. closed and locked the door. “I‟m fine. Relax. Calm down,” D.J. replied as he wrapped an arm around Win‟s shoulder. “It‟s too early, and I‟m too tired to fight.” He kissed Win‟s forehead as they moved down the hall. “I need to drink my coffee.” “What‟s wrong with you? Your hair is standing on end, and you have dark circles under both eyes.” “That‟s why I didn‟t call you.” D.J. yawned. “I didn‟t finish my talk with Ian until late, and I was afraid I‟d wake you. I was going to call after I got dressed.” “Well, thanks to you, I barely slept all night.” He‟d promised to call, so finding Win on his doorstep wasn‟t really a surprise. What he didn‟t expect was his need to make it up to Win, to make the misunderstanding right. D.J. grinned and pulled Win closer. “Well, despite your lack of sleep, you look good enough to eat.” A red flush spread over Win‟s cheeks. “I love your mouth.” His face got redder. “Forget I said that.” “Not likely.”

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Win was almost running to keep up. “Slow down.” When they reached the kitchen, D.J. set his mug on the table, dropped into a chair, and pulled Win onto his lap. Sliding a hand into Win‟s hair, he reeled the smaller man in for a bone-melting kiss. Win went willingly, looping his arms around his lover‟s neck and pressing his body close. His shirt rubbed against bare skin, the brush of soft cotton against D.J.‟s hardened nipples causing D.J. to groan. While Win stripped out of his slacks, D.J. unzipped his jeans, shoved them down his legs and off, and then kicked them across the room. With his shoulders resting against the chair, he scooted his hips to the chair‟s edge. D.J. stroked his shaft and shuddered at the pleasure as he raked his hand over the sensitive plum red head. Precum already leaked from the slit. “Ride me, honey.” “Yes. I want to feel you deep.” D.J. grinned and pulled him closer. “Then get your luscious ass over here and straddle me. Take me into your tight heat.” “Oh, fuck!” Win leaned in and wrapped his lips around D.J.‟s nipple, sucking and licking around the tight bud when he heard his lover moan. “Fuck is right. Fast, hard, and deep, so you feel me for hours.” Win‟s sweet ass, which fit his shaft like a hot glove, was what D.J. had been dreaming about when he woke to the alarm at seven that morning. Like Win was made for him, both physically and emotionally, which made D.J. realize he wasn‟t giving the smaller man up. He was keeping him. Period. Win shivered. “Keep saying stuff like that, and it‟ll be all over before you get inside me.” D.J. fisted his cock. “I guess that means you‟re ready for your ride?” “Oh yeah.” Win moved to straddle the long, thick cock reaching for him. D.J raised his hands to rest them under Win‟s straining thighs, taking his weight and guiding him to the pleasure both of them were waiting for. Their eyes met, and neither looked away as Win trembled and his rear opening twitched with need. Planting both hands on D.J.‟s shoulders and his feet on the chair rungs, Win lowered his body until D.J. felt his leaking cockhead at Win‟s opening. “Wait.” D.J. gritted his teeth. “We don‟t have a condom or lube.” “You‟ve got to be kidding me,” Win wailed. “How can you not have a condom?” “I have them.” D.J. struggled, his arms trembling from the strain of keeping Win from lowering onto his cock. “They‟re just not in the kitchen, where Ian could find them.” “That would be bad.” Win looked into D.J.‟s eyes and raised a hand to cup his face. “Do we need the cover? I swear you‟re the only person I‟ve been with in over two years, and my last check six months ago was clean. I haven‟t gone bareback since Jack.”

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A smile flashed across D.J.‟s face, and he nuzzled Win‟s hand. “If you trust me, I swear I‟m clean too. I‟ve never failed to use a condom, not once in my entire life.” He paused for a second and took a deep, raspy breath. “Is that what you want, honey? To ditch the condoms?” Win kissed him, skimming his tongue over his lips. “Yes. You‟re the only man I want in my bed, so getting rid of the condoms sounds perfect.” “Good answer.” He nodded toward a bottle on the table. “Grab the olive oil and slick me up.” “Hold your horses.” Win pulled out his wallet. “I think I might have a single use lube package. I don‟t intend to spend the rest of the day smelling like an Italian salad.” D.J. tapped his lover‟s hip. “Well hurry it up, honey. I can‟t wait to get inside you.” A grin spread over Win‟s face as he held up a little foil packet. “Got it.” “Then what are you waiting for? Slick me up.” Win ripped open the lube and poured the packet contents onto his palm, then slathered it over D.J.‟s cock. As he lowered his body, Win locked gazes with his lover. “God I love your cock.” Growling, D.J. pushed up his hips, sliding in until Win‟s buttocks rested on his thighs. “You feel good, honey. Tell me when I can move. I don‟t want to hurt you.” Win shivered and licked his lips, his gaze locked on D.J.‟s face. “Fuck me, please. You won‟t hurt me. I need, D.J.…please!” “Your wish is my command.” Digging his fingers into Win‟s soft flesh hard enough to leave bruises, D.J. moved slowly upward at the same time he pulled Win‟s hips down. Win was so tight that D.J. thought he was going to lose his mind from the firm squeeze wrapped around his cock, pulling him in, sucking him down to the balls with each thrust, each pounding stroke. He shook and panted as his climax started; the tingle at the base of his spine burned him from the inside out. His eyes went wide as Win slammed down hard, as he flexed and ground onto the cock impaling his ass. “More,” he begged. “More, D.J.…more.” D.J. nodded. The tight grimace on Win‟s face spurred him to thrust faster and harder, tilting his pelvis until each thrust pegged his lover‟s soft, sensitive gland, making him shiver and moan. He gritted his teeth and kept thrusting. “Come for me, honey.” D.J. moved a little faster, and his words came out as a low-pitched growl. “Let me feel you come on my cock.” Without warning, Win yelled, his voice nearly a sob. “I‟m coming, D.J. I‟m coming. It‟s so good…so damn good!” The painful squeeze of Win‟s ass muscles threw D.J. over the edge into his own release and ripped a deep, rumbling roar from his throat as he flooded Win‟s channel with heat.

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“Honey, are you trying to kill me?” Win fell onto D.J.‟s damp, cum-covered chest. “I think you melted my bones.” D.J. kissed his cheek. “Melted is a good look for you.” He glanced at the clock. “You‟re going to be late for work.” “Only a few minutes.” Win tucked his face into D.J.‟s neck. “I can‟t move right now.” Wrapping his arms around his man, D.J. trailed soft kisses over Win‟s jaw. “Ian‟s thrilled we‟re involved.” “He is?” “Yeah, and the little shit surprised the hell out of me. It seems Ian‟s Dad told him last year that I was gay.” “No kidding?” “And he wants to see you. I thought the three of us might have dinner and then a movie. What time does your office close tomorrow afternoon?” Win snuggled closer, nibbling at the soft skin behind D.J.‟s ear, causing him to shiver. “Tomorrow is the shortest workday of the week. The office closes at four if we don‟t have any disasters.” “Perfect. There‟s some kind of teacher‟s workshop tomorrow afternoon, so Ian only goes to school for a half day. Why don‟t we pick you up at your house at five so we can have an early dinner, and then we can go to the movies or hit a bookstore afterward?” “Sounds great.” Raising his hips, Win allowed D.J.‟s softened cock to slip free. “What about school tomorrow for Ian?” “No school. Starting Wednesday afternoon, he‟s on school break.” “Which means we can stay out late.” “Yeah, I know.” D.J. watched Win walk to the sink and dampen a paper towel. “My cum looks good dribbling down your thighs, honey.” “Pervert.”

*** “Drive faster, D.J. We‟re going to be late.” “Stop moving around. It‟s distracting. Do you want me to wreck the blasted car?” A horn blared, causing D.J. to swerve. “Ian, put your damn seat belt back on. Right this second!” “Yes, sir.” “Ian!” D.J. glanced over his shoulder and then back at the crowded roadway. “Do you want me to take you back home?” “No.” “Then I suggest you do as I say. Now!”

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“I don‟t want to go home, so I guess I‟ll behave.” The last words verged on angry, but Ian grabbed his seat belt and buckled it in place. “Fine.” After flipping on the turn signal, D.J. turned down Win‟s street. “Remember, if you see us close, holding hands or even kissing, don‟t make a big deal out of it. We‟re dating. We‟re a couple.” The words “got it” were barely out of Ian‟s mouth before he was leaning forward and pointing. “There he is.” D.J. pulled into the driveway and came to a stop. “What the hell?” “What‟s wrong?” “I don‟t know, but I intend to find out.” Before D.J. could turn off the engine, Win opened the passenger door and climbed inside. “You‟re on time.” Getting a closer look at Win‟s face didn‟t make D.J. any happier. Far from it. There was a large dark purple bruise around Win‟s left eye, a cherry red-colored abrasion on the right side of his neck, and a fine line of black stitches at his left temple. He looked bruised and battered. Like someone had struck him with a baseball bat. Shifting in his seat, D.J. grabbed Win‟s chin and turned his head from side to side. “What the hell happened to you? And don‟t lie to me.” Ian stuck his head between the seats. “Yeah, Dr. Morgan, you look terrible.” “You‟re not helping, Ian,” Win growled. “I‟m fine. Just a few bumps and bruises.” “Which I want an explanation for. Now!” D.J. snapped. “Who hurt you?” “Wha-what?” Win‟s deer-in-the-headlights look only made D.J. angrier. Either Win didn‟t know or he didn‟t want to confess who‟d beaten him. D.J. wanted to rant and rave, he wanted to grab Win and hold him tight, but between Ian sitting in the backseat, watching every move he made, and the stick shift separating him from Win, all he could do was grind his teeth. “I said who hurt you?” “No no no.” Win shook his head and waved his hands back and forth in front of his face. “Nobody hurt me, D.J. This morning my SUV got hit when I drove through an intersection three blocks from my office.” “Why didn‟t you call me?” D.J. asked, his voice tight with anger. “What were you thinking?” Reaching over the stick shift, Win grabbed D.J.‟s hand. “I was trying to keep you from getting upset.” He nodded in Ian‟s direction. “Can we please discuss this some other time?” What? D.J. cringed. He inhaled deeply, forced his breathing and heart rate back to normal, and plastered a bland, fake smile on his face. “You‟re right. This isn‟t the time to discuss your accident.” “Are you two going to argue?” Ian asked quietly.

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“No, we‟re not.” Win jumped in to reassure him. “Your brother‟s upset because I was in a wreck. Isn‟t that right, D.J.D.?” “Absolutely.” D.J. turned so he could look his brother in the face. “I didn‟t mean to give you the impression I was angry, because I wasn‟t. When I saw Win had gotten hurt, it scared me.” “Does that make sense?” Win asked. “Then prove it. Kiss.” “What?” Win squeaked. “If you‟re not mad, I want you to kiss and show me you‟re not angry.” D.J. looked from his brother to Win and back. “You want us to kiss. In front of you?” With his lower lip thrust out, Ian looked about ten instead of a young man fast approaching fourteen. “I remember what we talked about—about the gays in the military thingy. I get that you have to be careful until things change, and that other people might not like seeing you with Dr. Morgan, but I‟m not other people. I‟m your brother, and I want to see you kiss your boyfriend.” “You‟re sure?” D.J. stared at Ian. “You‟re absolutely certain. “Yes.” D.J. had to ask. “Why?” Ian paused for a few seconds as if deep in thought. “Mom said that someday you‟d find someone—someone special.” He bit his lip and glanced at Win. “That she and Dad didn‟t care who we loved as long as we were happy.” Ian smiled, reached between the seats, and punched D.J.‟s shoulder. “Mom said that this next part was the most important—that I should remember it forever.” This time Ian paused so long that D.J. wanted to snarl with frustration. “And?” he managed to ask calmly. “You‟re doing fine, Ian,” Win encouraged him. “Tell us the rest.” “Mom said two people—even two guys—who loved each other didn‟t go to bed mad. Ever. That you had to kiss and make up before bedtime.” This time Ian‟s lower lip quivered. “Just like she and Dad did when they had a fight. Remember?” “Yeah, Ian, I remember.” They‟d had a fight over sending Ian away to summer camp. “Please, D.J. Kiss Dr. Morgan—make up.” Win poked D.J. in the ribs. “Hey, involved person here. Ask first.” “Since when do I have to ask to kiss you?” “You‟re not asking. Your brother is telling you to kiss me.” “Why do you call him D.J.D?” Ian asked suddenly. “Yeah, honey. Tell my brother why you call me D.J.D.” Ian looked at his brother. “Hey, what‟s with calling him honey? He‟s a guy.”

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“If your dad could call Mom sweetheart or babe sometimes, I can call Win honey.” Ian‟s voice quivered. “I love you, D.J., but I miss Mom and Dad.” “Of course you do, Ian,” D.J. was quick to respond. “If we keep them alive in our hearts, they won‟t ever die.” “I won‟t forget them—ever. I promise.” Trying to lighten the mood, D.J. reached between the seats and flipped Ian on the end of the nose. “Now, no more depressing talk. We‟re going out to dinner, and we‟re going to enjoy our evening together. Okay?” Ian batted his brother‟s hand away. “Okay.” He stared at his brother. “I still haven‟t seen you guys kiss.” Win leaned closer. “Yeah, D.J. You still haven‟t asked to kiss me.” “Not asking, just kissing.” He pulled Win forward until their lips were only inches apart. “I can fix the missing smooch.” And he did by planting a brief, soft kiss on his lover‟s lips. “Ah, that‟s sweet,” Win mumbled. “You‟re not kissing Grandma, D.J. Kiss him like you…like you like him.” “You heard your brother. Kiss me like you mean it.” One single kiss followed. “That‟s the only kiss you‟re getting in front of my brother.” “You‟re right. I wasn‟t thinking.” Win looked over his shoulder at Ian. “I think you should stop calling me Dr. Morgan. Win will do just fine.” “Okay. I can do that.” Ian sat back in the seat and pulled his MP3 player out of his pocket. “Can we go for dinner now? I‟m starving. I want a bacon cheeseburger and fries.”

*** Win glanced at his plate and groaned. He still had half a baked potato, a small piece of steak, and a few bites of his salad left. “How can the two of you eat so much?” He rubbed his stomach and pushed his plate away. “I can‟t eat another bite without puking.” D.J. stopped his fork halfway to his mouth. “That‟s some yummy visual.” Ian stuffed another ketchup-coated french fry into his mouth. “I told you I was starving.” “Don‟t talk with your mouth full.” “Okay. Can I have dessert?” “Maybe later.” D.J. nodded. “Ian‟s always had a healthy appetite.” “You have a healthy appetite yourself.” Win took a sip of coffee, savoring the rich, warm liquid as it filled his mouth. “And I drink too much strong coffee. It‟s my

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one vice, my weakness. It has been since my first year of medical school, and it only got worse during my residency years.” D.J. gave him a lopsided grin. “I guess that means I need to invest in a top-ofthe-line coffeemaker, a grinder, and some fancy gourmet beans if I‟m going to keep you happy and satisfied.” A burst of blinding-hot lust rushed down Win‟s spine and settled in his balls. He slipped a hand beneath the table to thump his rising dick. “Stop it, D.J.” “Stop what?” he asked innocently. “I don‟t know what you mean.” Grateful they had a corner table so that most of what went on was hidden from view, Win slipped off a shoe and ran his sock-clad foot up D.J.‟s thigh until it reached his lover‟s cock. He curled his toes around the growing bulge, pressing and rubbing, and watched in amusement as a faint sheen of sweat broke out across D.J.‟s forehead. “Are you getting a little warm, D.J.? Do you need a fresh glass of ice water?” “You are so going to pay for that, honey.” Ian stopped eating, his attention on the adults at the table for the first time in several minutes. “I need to use the restroom before we leave.” He looked around the room. “Where is it?” “In the other corner.” Win pointed to the opposite side of the room. “Don‟t dawdle, don‟t talk to strangers, and don‟t forget to wash your hands. Your brother and I will watch the door.” “You sound like Dad.” “That‟s because I am a dad.” As Ian walked away, D.J. grabbed Win‟s foot and pressed it harder against his erection. “If I have a cum stain on the front of my jeans when we leave, you can expect to get your ass paddled the first chance I get.” “You wouldn‟t.” Or would he? D.J. didn‟t seem like a man who made idle threats, even about something as simple as a spanking. No, he was a man who did what he said, making him straightforward, honest, and reliable. A man you could trust to follow through, which likely meant there was a spanking in Win‟s future, because the fabric under his foot felt a little damp. “Win… Win Morgan. What are you doing here?” Wonderful. Win turned toward the sound of his ex-wife‟s voice. He cringed when he saw her coming toward their table, her disagreeable younger sister trailing several steps behind. “Hello, Janet. What are you doing here?” Besides interrupting my date, he wanted to add. Instead he smiled and tried to be pleasant. “Amanda, how are you?” He and Amanda had never gotten along, and their strained relationship had only become worse after he and Janet divorced. It hadn‟t mattered that he was the injured party or that he was the one betrayed by Janet‟s long-term adultery. What

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had mattered to Amanda and her extended family, her father, in particular, was the hefty monetary settlement he‟d forced Janet to pay him to avoid a messy public scandal. “Good evening, Winston.” Amanda sneered. “What happened to your face?” As if she cared. “A truck broadsided my SUV this morning.” “Well, thank goodness it happened now and not closer to the wedding,” Janet said. “You don‟t want to ruin Emily‟s wedding photos. Your face looks positively terrible. Does it hurt?” “I don‟t look that bad, and yes, it hurts.” Leave it to Emily‟s mother to gloss over his injuries and fixate on the approaching wedding. “Exactly how damaged is your car?” The deep, rumbling growl coming from the other side of the table set the hairs at Win‟s nape on end. He glanced at D.J. and winced when he saw D.J.‟s narrowed eyes and pressed-thin lips. “Uh…the insurance company will probably total it,” he squeaked. “Win, you‟re lucky to be alive.” Janet stepped closer. “We might have needed to find someone else to walk Emily down the aisle.” “Yeah, Win,” D.J. grumbled at her comment. “You could have died.” “I promise to be more careful in the future.” Win stared into D.J.‟s eyes. “Much more careful.” D.J. glared. “You‟d better.” “He‟s right,” Janet added. “Emily would be upset if something happened to you.” “I don‟t understand why, but the child loves you.” Amanda snorted like an asthmatic bull. “I don‟t care what happens to you.” Win gritted his teeth and prayed for patience. “I‟m well aware that you hate my—” “She doesn‟t hate you,” Janet interrupted. “Yes, I do. I‟ve hated him since you married him.” “Would you please move?” Win craned his neck and tried to see around Amanda. “We can‟t see the restroom door.” “Prowling for dates?” she asked sarcastically. “You‟re pathetic.” Win couldn‟t keep from rolling his eyes. Amanda‟s attitude never changed, and she was turning into a bitter, lonely woman who any sane heterosexual man should run from—screaming. “Don‟t be a bitch, Amanda; we‟re watching for D.J.‟s thirteenyear-old brother.” “Like I believe that story.” D.J. pushed back his chair and stood, then moved closer to Win. “Ladies, as much as I‟ve enjoyed listening to you rake Win over the coals, I think it might be best if you left before I have the manager throw you out.”

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Janet gasped. “You wouldn‟t dare.” “Trust me. He would.” Win stood. “I‟ve tried to be nice because we‟re in public, but I‟m done. We didn‟t invite you to join us at our table but you barged in anyway, and you‟ve done nothing but make callous and malicious remarks since you arrived. I‟m sick of it.” “Go for it, Win.” D.J. gave him a big smile of encouragement. “Let her know what you think.” “You have a mean and unhappy personality and showing up at my office drunk after a fight with Emily was totally inappropriate.” This time he got in her face— was standing toe-to-toe with her until she finally took a step back. “If you ever do anything like that again, I‟ll need to have a chat with your father. You know how he feels about bad press.” He paused for a second. “Do you understand me?” The pale, shocked expression on her was priceless. “Yes.” Amanda hit the table‟s edge, turning over a glass of tea. The liquid splashed over the tablecloth and onto D.J.‟s jeans, somehow managing to miss Win. “Let‟s get out of here, Janet.” Win stared after the women until they exited the dining room, then winced when he noticed several other diners watching them. “I‟m sorry to have dragged you into this mess.” “You didn‟t drag me anywhere, honey. If I didn‟t want to be here with you, I wouldn‟t be. Between Ian and the death of my mom and step-father for me, and Emily and Janet for you, I‟d say we both have our fair share of issues to deal with.” Win rested his hands on the table. “You‟re right. We do.” “Speaking of Ian…” D.J. looked toward the restroom. “Where the hell is he?” He and D.J. should have been watching the door, but Janet and Amanda‟s unwelcome arrival had distracted them. “One of us should check on him.” As Win stood, D.J. gripped his hand. “Wait. I think I see him.” Ian was halfway across the room when Win noticed the large wet stain covering D.J.‟s fly and extending down both thighs. “At least we don‟t have to worry about a cum stain.” “True, but you‟re still getting spanked for not telling me the whole story about your wreck.” Win chewed his lip nervously. “D.J., I don‟t know about a spanking.” “We‟ll discuss this more later. Here comes Ian.” Ian stepped next to his brother, then slid into his chair. “Sorry it took so long.” He looked over at Win. “Who were those women? They didn‟t look happy.” Win winced. “My ex-wife and her sister, who hates me.” “Why doesn‟t she like you? You‟re a great guy.” “Thank you. I like you too.” It wasn‟t a lie; he did like Ian, felt protective of him and his big brother, but he couldn‟t answer honestly, as the truth wouldn‟t be

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appropriate for someone Ian‟s age. So he settled for a simplified version that Ian would accept instead. “I don‟t know for certain. She‟s always seemed an unhappy woman.” Hearing D.J.‟s voice jerked Win back to the table and the two people with him. “That‟s still not a reason why she doesn‟t like you.” While Win understood why D.J. wanted to know, he wasn‟t willing to answer with Ian listening. “I think the unabridged details should come at another time.” D.J. nodded knowingly. “Ah, another one of those answers.” “Hey, that‟s not fair,” Ian piped in. “I want to know too.” “Maybe when you‟re older.” “Yes, when you‟re older,” Win agreed.

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Chapter Eleven Except for the little episode with Janet and Amanda in the restaurant, D.J.‟s date with Win was going better than expected. He grinned and moved closer to the movie theater‟s concession counter, where Ian and Win stood buying diet sodas and popcorn. It was only the third real date D.J. had ever had, and he was having a great time. He just hoped his lover felt the same way. Weaving his way through the crowd of people, D.J. was within ten feet of Win when two women stepped into his path. He tried to move around them, but an elderly woman using a walker blocked his path. “Excuse me,” D.J. said as he tried to move around her on the other side. “Can I get by, please?” D.J. watched from a few feet away as a young, blonde-haired woman stopped next to Win. “Dr. Morgan, what are you doing here?” She peered down her dainty, upturned nose at Ian. “I didn‟t know you had a son.” “Mrs. Wilson, what a surprise to see you here.” If the tone of Win‟s voice meant anything, just running into this woman wasn‟t a pleasure. “This is Ian, the brother of a friend.” The woman laughed, her voice warm and husky like the best blues singer‟s. “You naughty man, you never answered my invitation to dinner.” Dinner? The woman is after my man. D.J. dodged several people who separated him from Win and Ian. He moved closer and cleared his throat to catch Win‟s attention. Get rid of her, he mouthed silently. “It‟s my policy not to date the parents of my patients.” “Couldn‟t you make an exception in my case, Dr. Morgan?” D.J. wanted to puke at the sound of her seductive tone. Get rid of her, he mouthed again. She batted her obviously fake eyelashes and tried again. “Please?” “I should have been honest, Mrs. Wilson—” “Please call me, Patricia,” she interrupted. Win stiffened. “As I was saying. I should have been more forthcoming and told you I‟m already involved with someone.” Her face fell. “Couldn‟t we still have dinner? I‟ll even cook.” D.J. waited silently for Win‟s answer, when what he wanted to do was grab Win and jerk him away from the barracuda currently baiting his waters. No railthin, bleached-blonde soccer mom was taking his man. Not now. Not ever.

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As soon as the thought flashed through his mind, D.J. mentally hit himself in the head. I’m jealous. Again. He was jealous because another person—a woman— was touching what was his. D.J. knew his jealousy was unfounded and irrational, but he couldn‟t stop himself. So seeing Win put his hand over hers and squeeze, still hurt. He coughed and sputtered and was so upset he almost missed Win‟s reply. “I‟m sorry, but that won‟t be possible. I‟m in a committed relationship, and this is an inappropriate conversation to be having in front of a teenager.” She had the good sense to look embarrassed. “You‟re right. I shouldn‟t have approached you in public, but are you certain?” Patricia asked hopefully. Win focused on D.J., his voice clear and firm. “Very certain.” D.J.‟s shoulders sagged. He‟d never been so glad to hear the word no in his life. It was time to end this bizarre conversation, reclaim Win, and get on with the rest of their evening. D.J. moved forward and placed his body between Win and the woman. He reached out and ruffled Ian‟s hair. “The movie‟s starting in fifteen minutes. Don‟t you think we should find our seats?” D.J. took the box of popcorn out of his brother‟s hand and grabbed Win‟s arm. “Come on, let‟s go. I want to get a good seat.” “Okay.” Win turned to the woman. “Patricia, have a good evening.” The words were no sooner out of Win‟s mouth than D.J. was herding their little trio down the hall toward the movie Ian selected. He followed closely, lightly brushing against the luscious ass in front of him with his hand. He grinned when Win jumped. “How do you feel about tattoos?” he whispered. “Excuse me?” “Tattoos. How do you feel about them?” “I‟ve never given them any thought. Why?” Win whispered back. “I was thinking I might need to get „property of Damien Faulkner‟ tattooed on your ass.” Win stopped without warning, and D.J. slammed into his back. “I can‟t believe it. You‟re jealous of that woman.” “Am not.” “Are too.” A shove got Win moving again. “Keep walking, or we‟ll lose sight of my brother.” When they reached the stairs, Ian was waiting, scanning the area above his head and waving at a boy on the other side of the auditorium. Within seconds of the adults joining him, they climbed to the top, where three seats were still available together. They quickly settled in and changed their cell phones over to vibrate before the lights dimmed and the previews started.

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The sound coming through the speakers made it difficult to hear, and Win needed to lean close for D.J. to understand him. “I still say you were jealous of that woman.” It was true; he was jealous, but D.J. hated to admit it. Instead he concentrated on the idea of Win getting a tattoo, of literally marking him as taken. “Are you afraid of needles, Win?” He peered through the dim at Win. “Would you prefer black ink or color?” “You‟re a little obsessed about marking me as your property, D.J.” “I am.” D.J. scanned the area around them before intertwining their fingers and pulling Win‟s hand into his thigh. He slowly ran his thumb around and around Win‟s palm in small, lazy circles. The warmth of Win‟s skin sent searing-hot heat radiating up his arm, until it settled in his groin, tightening every muscle below his waist. “Would it so bad if I marked you, if I claimed you as mine?” Win sighed and squeezed his hand. “No, of course not, but you‟re still in the army and will probably be leaving town again soon.” “I‟m not, you know… I mean, leaving town. I‟ve decided to stay.” “What?” Win replied, his voice cutting through the now-silent theater. “Shhh,” snapped an older woman in front of them. “If you want to talk, go outside. Otherwise be quiet so the rest of us can enjoy the movie.” “Sorry,” Win said to no one in particular. He squeezed D.J.‟s hand again. “Does that mean you‟re leaving the army too?” “Yeah, it does.” “Young man, if you don‟t keep quiet, I‟ll call the manager and have you both removed.”

*** Win wanted to club D.J. over the head with a baseball bat for waiting until they were in a crowded theater, surrounded by strangers, to confess he was not only staying in Colorado Springs, but leaving the army too. How did D.J. expect him to get the answers he needed, when every time he opened his mouth, the gray-haired woman sitting in front of them threatened to have them ejected from the theater? He‟d sat through the entire movie gritting his teeth so tight together to keep from asking another question that his jaws ached from the constant pressure. Win was unhappy, uncertain, nervous, and tense, and he knew if he didn‟t start to ask questions soon, he was going to implode. “You are in so much trouble,” Win mumbled as they walked out of the theater and down the sidewalk to the nearby bookstore. “I‟ve been stewing for nearly two hours.” “Did you say something, Win?” D.J. asked “No. Why would I have something to say?” He continued to talk, just loud enough for the trailing D.J. to hear. “I would have preferred you to wait until we

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could talk about it, instead of dropping your bombshell seconds before the movie started.” “You‟re right. I should have waited, but I thought you‟d be pleased. Was I wrong?” D.J. asked, his voice taking on a tone Win had never heard before. “No, you weren‟t wrong,” Win answered without taking his eyes off the people walking ahead of them. “But your timing could have been better.” Ian moved ahead of his brother to walk next to Win. “If you guys are going to fight, we might as well go home, but not until after we go to the bookstore. I have something I want to look for first.” “No, I‟m not mad,” Win answered, “and we‟re not fighting.” “You act mad.” “Yeah, Win. You act mad,” D.J. repeated. Win stopped at the door and pulled it open, allowing D.J. and Ian to enter first. “Let‟s forget my crabbiness and enjoy the rest of our evening. Please?” Ian looked up at him, his face solemn and unsmiling. “If you‟re sure you‟re not mad.” “I‟m certain.” Win threw his arm around Ian‟s thin shoulders. “I‟m not mad.” He was certain; he just hoped he hadn‟t pissed D.J. off. He peered ahead and found D.J. staring back at him, his expression just as unsmiling and solemn as his brother‟s. “D.J.?” D.J. lightly touched Win‟s arm. “Promise me you‟re not mad.” “I promise you, I‟m not mad.” He turned to Ian. “Would you like to spend some time looking around while your brother and I sit and talk?” “Yes. I know exactly what kind of book I want. I‟ll find you.” Ian took off at a trot. “Walk, please,” Win called after him. “You‟ve got this parenting stuff down pat.” Win shrugged. “I‟ve had years of practice.” “And I‟m going to need help surviving Ian‟s teenage years and getting him through college.” More words of commitment had Win coming to a standstill. He watched D.J. turn down the aisle between the history and art sections but didn‟t move to follow him. His heart pounded, his palms started to sweat, and he had trouble breathing. Without warning, D.J. stuck his head around the corner. He scanned the area. “What‟s wrong, honey?” “Nothing…nothing. Let‟s sit in the chairs outside the cafe and talk.” Nodding in agreement, D.J. turned and led them to the back of the store. Luckily there were two empty chairs grouped close so they could talk without worrying about anyone overhearing their conversation. “Are all your days so strange?”

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“What are you talking about, D.J.?” Before he asked the question, Win knew the answer, because his usual dull and boring days had been anything but that recently. D.J. ticked off his comments with his fingers. “One—there was your accident. Two—the confrontation with your charming ex-wife and her sister at the restaurant. Three—the barracuda on the hunt in the lobby, and finally, the elderly woman who wanted us thrown out of the theater.” “It has turned out to be a rather peculiar day.” Win shrugged. “Very peculiar.” He looked over his shoulder and saw Ian was flipping through a book. “Please tell me your news. I‟ve waited for over two hours, and not knowing is killing me.” “You‟re right.” D.J. nodded in agreement. “You deserve to know my plans.” Win‟s eyebrow arched. “I would certainly hope so.” He paused for second. “I‟m sorry. I shouldn‟t have snapped. I don‟t want to fight with you. Please tell me.” “I don‟t want to fight either.” D.J. sighed and leaned closer, resting his elbows on his knees. “I‟d rather we have this conversation curled up on a couch somewhere private.” “Yeah, I know, and I‟m sorry.” What did he say that didn‟t make him sound like a desperate, lovesick idiot? “Of course I‟m happy you‟re staying. Did you expect me to be thrilled thinking you and Ian were leaving town? That a few nights sharing a bed would satisfy me and then I‟d cheerfully wave good-bye when you drove away? I don‟t think so, Mister. I don‟t take just anyone into my bed.” “I don‟t want anyone else either,” D.J. whispered softly, his voice taking on a dark, possessive edge. “You‟re the only man I want.” Win wasn‟t certain why he felt such a sense of deep satisfaction, but he couldn‟t deny it either. “You were serious about the tattoo, weren‟t you?” “Damn right I was. You. Are. Mine. Do you have a problem with that?” A smile brightened Win‟s face. “No. D.J.D. No problem.” “Good, because when that woman touched you, I hate to admit it but I was jealous.” “I knew it.” “What it does is earn you a second spanking.” “Hey, there was no cum stain on your jeans,” Win whispered. “Maybe not, but you didn‟t call me about your wreck or the hospital and made me jealous.” Win chuckled. “Apart from holding my hand while I got my head stitched up, there wasn‟t anything you could have done about my wreck.” He shrugged. “I didn‟t see any point in bothering you or disrupting your day.” “You‟re more important than interrupting my day. In the future, if you have a problem, you call me. That‟s what couples do. Now spill. I want the truth about your accident, and then I‟ll tell you my plans.”

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This was the moment he‟d been dreading. Win took comfort in the knowledge his lover wouldn‟t create a scene in public. “The driver of the truck had a heart attack and died at the scene. My injuries were minor, but they still insisted on transporting me to the hospital by ambulance. I‟m fine.” The muscle in D.J.‟s jaw twitched. Win started to rise. “Maybe we should check on Ian?” “No, I think you should sit back down.” “Or what?” D.J. squeezed the bridge of his nose. “Truthfully, I don‟t know. You could have died, and I wouldn‟t have known. The very idea scares the crap out of me.” “But I didn‟t. I‟m fine except for some bruises and a few sutures. Please, let‟s not fight. Tell me your plans.” “Okay…plans. As you know I‟ll be working full-time with Ellis starting immediately. But my first task is to find us another photographer to pick up the extra clients Ellis has been turning away the last few months.” “That sounds promising.” “It‟s actually pretty exciting, and might mean moving into a bigger studio. I‟ve decided to put the house on the market and find something smaller—a house or condo more suitable for the two of us. Selling could take months.” “You‟re right. The real estate market is terrible now, and you‟ll likely have trouble finding a buyer who can afford it.” D.J. sighed and leaned back in his chair. “I just want to do what‟s best for Ian.” Win nodded in agreement. “You‟re doing a great job with Ian and don‟t need my help to be a good parent.”

*** It was a relief to hear from a real father that D.J.‟s inexperience wasn‟t messing up his brother. It was one thing to learn how to be a parent at a child‟s birth, but another to take up the job of raising a growing boy. He‟d need help and advice getting Ian through high school, graduation, and into a good college. On the surface, his brother might appear quiet and easygoing, but at times Ian‟s personality was too much like his own. “Hey, look what I found.” Ian rushed up with a book and plopped it open across Win‟s lap, keeping his body between the book and his brother. “Interesting.” Win flipped through a few pages. The grin on his face as he and Ian looked at the photos made D.J. a little nervous. “Which one is your favorite?” “I don‟t know. I can‟t decide. What do you think?” “I think it‟s a big decision, and that you should take your time.” Ian flipped back two pages. “I‟ve been thinking about this for months.” He pointed at the next page. “What about this one?” “I‟d say you might consider a smaller size and less hair.”

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D.J.‟s eyebrows shot up. “What are you two looking at? Do I have to take that book away from you?” “Ooh, I‟m shaking. I‟m so scared.” Win nudged Ian‟s foot. “What about you?” “Yeah, D.J. I‟m shaking.” D.J. held up his hand. “That makes three, Win.” Win‟s slack jaw and wide-eyed look told him Win knew exactly what he meant. “Wait a minute. You can‟t be serious,” he sputtered. He couldn‟t keep the grin off his face. “You heard me. Three.” “Well, darn!” “Paybacks, honey.” Ian grinned at Win. “Are you in trouble?” Win shook his head. “No, of course not.” “Only a little,” D.J. replied just as quickly. “I don‟t like secrets, so one of you start talking.” “Go ahead, Ian. Show your brother.” He flipped back a few pages. “Show him your three favorites.” Win bumped Ian‟s shoulder at the same time he nodded toward D.J. The uncertain look on his brother‟s face was his undoing. D.J. motioned Ian closer. “Come here. Show me what‟s got you so excited.” “Are you sure?” “Yeah, come here, buddy.” As soon as the book was on his lap, D.J. knew why his lover was smirking. A dog. Ian was asking about getting a dog again, and this time it looked like he had Win in his corner. D.J. looked up. “Please tell me you aren‟t serious. That animal is huge.” “And has too much hair, as I mentioned earlier, if you‟ll remember,” Win added. “He had a couple of other choices to show you.” “Smaller ones, I hope.” Ian rolled his eyes. “Yes, D.J., they‟re smaller.” He grinned. “At least a little smaller.” Win moved around behind D.J.‟s chair. “Ian, show him the one on page ninetytwo. I think it‟s the best choice of the three.” While Ian turned the pages, D.J. looked over his shoulder. He reached back to pat his hand. “What makes this dog breed the best choice for Ian?” After a quick squeeze in return, Win pulled his hand away. “Standard schnauzers are great dogs. Emily had one when she was little, and I know from experience that they‟re agile, intelligent, reliable, and are great companions and watchdogs.”

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Ian pointed at a color photo of four puppies in a basket. “I want a black one, D.J. Can I? Can I please have a dog? I promise I‟ll take good care of it. I‟ll feed him, walk him, and clean up after him if he pees on the floor.” D.J. tried to look stern. “You‟re damn right you will.” “Don‟t be such a hard-ass.” “Hey, can‟t a guy kid around a little?” D.J. looked at Ian‟s hopeful face. “I told you that as soon as we moved into the new house we‟d get you a dog.” “Really?” Ian asked. “Yes, really.” After taking the book from his brother, D.J. closed it and put it on the floor. “I‟ve never lied to you, Ian, and I don‟t plan to start now. I said you can have a dog, and I mean it. You‟ll just have to wait a few weeks, but until then, I bet Win can help you get ready.” Win slipped onto the chair arm on his right side. “I‟d be happy to help, and there‟s a lot to do before you get your puppy. We need to find a reputable breeder, talk to former customers, find a good veterinarian with a kennel, and pick out bedding, toys, food, and dishes. We could even check into getting you a rescue dog.” A look of horror appeared on D.J.‟s face. “Oh crap. I didn‟t think about Ian‟s asthma.” Ian frowned. “What about my asthma?” “Dog hair and asthma patients can be bad combinations. Relax, both of you.” Win chuckled and reached out to ruffle Ian‟s hair. “That‟s why a standard schnauzer is the perfect breed for you. Not only are they great with kids, but they‟re easy to train and, unlike most breeds, don‟t shed.” As D.J. watched, the happy smile on Win‟s face faded and turned into a tightlipped frown. “Damn it.” Win‟s angry tone set off D.J.‟s protective instincts and had him scanning the immediate area. “What‟s wrong?” “Is something wrong, Win?” “No, Ian, of course not,” Win said, his gaze never leaving the tall, lean, redheaded man coming in their direction. “Why don‟t you see if you can find a book on taking care of your puppy?” The word “okay” was out of Ian‟s mouth, and he was off again. “I asked you what‟s wrong.” D.J. waited, his eyes narrowing when an attractive stranger stopped next to Win. “Win, it‟s good to see you.” The man extended his hand. “I‟d heard you‟d become a bit of a hermit after we broke up.” “We didn‟t break up.” Win ignored his greeting. “What do you want, Stephen?” “I got back into town a few days ago and thought you might want to give us another go. How about dinner on Friday?”

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Win‟s mouth dropped open, then closed, and then opened again. “Are you nuts? I thought I made it clear that I didn‟t want to see or talk to you again.” “You heard the man.” D.J. climbed to his feet. “Back off.” “Who‟s your new friend, sweetheart?” “The guy who wants you to back away from his boyfriend—and don‟t call him sweetheart.” Win put a hand on D.J.‟s arm. “Not so loud. People are staring.” He turned his attention to Stephen and lowered his voice. “We dated exactly twice and, I‟m happy to say, never had sex.” The look Stephen gave Win made D.J.‟s skin crawl. “I can assure you. It‟s not a sentiment I share.” “And I don‟t care.” Win stepped closer to D.J. “I didn‟t interest you, Stephen. I probably never did. You‟re a user, who was only interested in my money, and when I discovered your little game, I got rid of your deceitful ass.” “That‟s not true. I did like you. It was just a bonus that you had money too.” A hiccupping laugh bubbled out of D.J. “Damn, honey. Besides me and Jack, your taste in men and women sucked.” Win smiled back. “That‟s for damn sure.” “I resent that remark,” Stephen replied in an offended tone. “And I don‟t much care,” Win said. “I want you to go away, far away, and never contact me again.” Stephen stepped back and put his hands on his hips. “You can‟t mean that.” “We‟re done and have been for years. Go away and don‟t come back.” D.J. moved away from Win and stepped into Stephen‟s space. “Look, man, Win doesn‟t want you, so why don‟t you run along while you can still move under your own power.” “Yeah, Stephen. Run along and find someone else to con.” Stephen looked wounded, as if he couldn‟t believe Win had rejected him. D.J. almost felt sorry for the man. Almost. D.J. shook his head. “You‟re a chaos magnet.” “Hey, it‟s not my fault.” Win glared at Stephen. “Why are you still here?” “Fine. I‟m leaving.” Stephen pointed at Win. “You‟ll regret sending me away.” “Honey, you are so getting your ass tattooed.”

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Chapter Twelve Another day was done and Win was left with a small stack of charts piled on the corner of his desk that needed to be completed before he left for the day. It took only minutes to make detailed notations in each, then he moved on to reviewing lab work and returning phones to parents who were uncomfortable speaking about their children with anyone but him. He was deep in thought when he heard a sharp knock on his office door. “Come in, Ellen.” A deep chuckle sounded. “I‟m in real trouble if you can‟t tell the difference between me and your receptionist.” “You have a heavy hand like Ellen.” Win rose from his chair. “You don‟t look like Shelly either, thank god.” D.J. stepped inside and closed, then locked the door. “Shelly let me come back. She said you were done for the day, but by the number of charts on your desk I‟m not certain that‟s true.” He pointed to the door. “Do you want me come back in a few minutes?” “What?” Every time Win caught sight of D.J., his brain short-circuited, and seeing the bulge behind his zipper wasn‟t helping. “No, stay. I‟m almost done.” A cocky grin tweaked D.J.‟s lips. “You‟re thinking about me naked again, aren‟t you?” The area above Win‟s beard turned beet red. “What if I was?” “Just asking. If you don‟t find it too distracting, I‟ll stretch out on the couch while you finish.” Win made a disgusted harrumphing noise. “I find everything about you distracting, and you know it.” “We‟ve had a little change in plans. Ian is staying the night with Ellis and Camille, so I don‟t have to be home at any particular time.” “Was it his idea?” Win bit his lip. “I don‟t want him to think I‟m monopolizing your time. I know he needs you.” D.J. fluffed a couple of throw pillows and got comfortable on the couch. “Camille may look like a model but she cooks like a gourmet chef, and when Ian found out she was experimenting with some new Italian recipes this evening, he almost begged to spend the night. The kid‟s turning into a foodie.”

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“Okay, then. I just wanted to make sure he‟s okay with us spending so much time together.” “Win, you worry too much.” He heaved an exasperated sigh. “I know it hasn‟t been that long but I don‟t like the idea of taking cabs and bumming rides, especially if I need to make a dash to the hospital. I can‟t wait for my new car to be delivered by the middle of next week. Do you mind dropping me off back here at the end of the evening? The insurance company promised delivery of my rental by Thursday, and they did. It arrived after lunch, and I‟ll need it in case there‟s an emergency during the night.” “Of course not. I don‟t mind. Don‟t ask silly questions.” While D.J. relaxed, Win worked, and in less than five minutes, he‟d filed the charts in his done box and set aside the few things he needed to check on in the morning. The day was done, and he was ready to get on with his evening with his lover. “Are you awake?” “Awake and raring to go, honey.” D.J. swung his legs over the edge of the couch. “How does your head feel this afternoon?” “Fine. I don‟t even have a headache. Haven‟t had all day.” “Good. There‟s something I need to do if you‟re feeling up to it.” “What?” “This.” Before Win knew what was happening, D.J. was across the room, nibbling on his neck. Win shook, he shivered, and then he groaned as sharp teeth tugged on his earlobe, causing his toes to curl. Win pressed closer and turned his head, allowing D.J. greater access to the tender flesh where his neck and shoulder met. “You‟re making me crazy, D.J.D. Kiss me.” “Demanding little shit, aren‟t you?” D.J. smiled and pulled him closer. “But then, you‟re my demanding little shit, so I don‟t care.” “I am.” Win tapped D.J.‟s lower lip. “More kissing.” “Pushy man.” Almost immediately, Win was drowning in a haze of need as D.J. took possession of his mouth. His pulse skyrocketed, throbbing, his heart pounding like a drum in both his chest and groin as he struggled to breathe, to suck enough air into his lungs that he didn‟t pass out. They stood plastered together, but it wasn‟t nearly close enough to satisfy Win‟s need to feel skin on skin without the barrier of fabric between them. He wanted more and was ready to climb up D.J.‟s body and wrap his legs around his waist when the pressure on his lips lessened, then stopped. D.J. groaned and pulled his mouth away, then rested his forehead on Win‟s. “We‟ve got to stop.” “You‟ve got to be kidding me.” “If we don‟t, we‟ll never get out of here, and I‟m starving.” Win‟s stomach picked that moment to rumble.

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“You‟re right.” D.J. grasped Win‟s hand and led him to a chair opposite the desk. After he sat, he unzipped and shoved Win‟s pants down, then draped Win across his lap. Seconds later, D.J. lowered his large hand in a sharp slap across Win‟s ass. “That‟s one.” Win bucked and tried to get away from the arm that pressed across his back. “What the hell are you doing?” D.J. lowered his hand again. “That‟s two swats.” “Are you fucking crazy? Let me up.” “I don‟t think so, honey. I said three swats, and that‟s exactly what you‟re getting.” Bucking and pulling away weren‟t working. D.J. was too strong, and Win was in a position that didn‟t allow him any leverage. He groaned and dropped his head. “I didn‟t think you were serious. I thought you were kidding.” “Well, I wasn‟t.” “Believe me, I get that now.” “Good.” D.J. slowly caressed Win‟s flesh. “I owe you one more swat.” Win squirmed and pressed up into the hand. The sensation went straight to his groin. “Do it. Get it over with.” D.J. chuckled and continued to move his hand over Win‟s ass. “If I didn‟t know better, I‟d think you were enjoying this.” “I am not! It hurts.” But Win‟s moans and pants were a dead giveaway, as was his throbbing cock against D.J.‟s thigh. “Well, perhaps a little.” “Don‟t lie.” The rubbing continued. “A good hurt or a bad one?” “A good one, I think.” “I‟m glad to hear that, since you‟ve got one more swat coming.” “D.J., get it over with.” “Okay.” D.J. lowered his hand; the last slap was the hardest of the three. “We may have to explore this little spanking revelation later.” “Whatever. Have we finished?” Please let D.J. be finished, or Win was going to explode at any second. “I believe so, unless you‟d like another.” “I think I‟ll pass.” D.J. lifted the arm holding Win down and allowed Win to climb to his feet. “You have a heavy hand. My ass hurts.” D.J. stood and trailed his fingers along Win‟s jaw. “It was supposed to.” Win‟s stomach rumbled again. “I know I said I was starving, but I need to make one stop first. Do you mind?” “Honey, anyplace you want to go is fine.”

***

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Spending time with Win was fast becoming one of D.J.‟s favorite things to do, but blindly agreeing to do anything the man wanted that evening was something he would have never done under normal circumstances. It also explained why they‟d been wandering through a high-priced art gallery looking at paintings, prints, and bronzes for what seemed like hours, but was in reality more like sixty minutes. Win was enthralled by every piece of art he saw, no matter what the artistic medium or style, and he‟d even talked to one of the gallery assistants a couple of times. Then he‟d seen something else that caught his eye, and off he‟d gone in another direction. D.J. wanted to show Win he cared and that they shared a common interest, but he was so bored and frustrated with the artwork he wanted to growl. Instead he paced back and forth from one side of the gallery to the other, determined to find just one piece of art that appealed to his inner eye. His sense of color or style. Call him old-fashioned, but he‟d always thought a painting or a sculpture was supposed to actually look like something—not a few random squiggles or streaks of brightly colored paint or clay that an artist called a house or a dog or a flower vase. He‟d seen finger-painted pictures from kindergarten classes that looked better than some of the expensive crap on the gallery‟s walls. And the prices—those were nothing short of insane and criminal. D.J. stopped in front of a particularly ugly painting covered in large metallic swirls. He leaned closer, then stepped back. He tipped his head in first one direction and then the other. It didn‟t matter what the distance or angle: the artist was crazy, and his painting was butt ugly. “Who buys this stuff?” he muttered. Out of nowhere, Win appeared next to him. “So what do you think of that one?” Win pointed at the painting. “You must like it. I‟ve been watching. You‟ve been staring at it for five minutes.” “I think I don‟t know anything about modern art and don‟t have an opinion worth sharing. At least not a viewpoint an art lover would appreciate hearing.” Win moved closer. “Come on. Tell me what you really think. It can‟t be that bad. I can tell by the expression on your face that you have an opinion. How does it make you feel?” “Are you jerking my chain, or do you really care what I think?” “I want to know.” Win grinned and bumped hips with him. “Come on. Didn‟t your mother ever tell you that honesty is supposed to be the best policy? I know you‟re not shy. Spill it.” D.J. looked from his lover, to the painting, and back, trying to decide what to say. He hated the painting—hated everything he‟d seen in the gallery—and he did believe in honesty, but he also didn‟t want to piss off his man if he enjoyed modern art. To hell with it. Win deserves honesty. “I think it‟s the most hideous thing I‟ve ever seen.” He pointed to the tag. “Who would pay that price? I mean anybody in their right mind.”

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Win shrugged. “Several people I know own paintings by this popular artist, but that‟s what‟s so great about the art world. There‟s something for everyone. But you still haven‟t answered my question. How does the painting make you feel?" Win touched his abdomen. “Deep down. In your gut?” “Nauseated.” “Let me tell you a little secret.” Win crooked his finger. “I think it‟s awful too. I hate modern art, but I was just curious how long it would take before you said something.” “You little shit.” D.J. narrowed his eyes. “You set me up.” Win looked at his watch. “Yep, and it only took seventy minutes.” Win nodded to a doorway across the room. “I‟ve spent my time looking at pastoral oils and a couple of nice bronzes. I even bought a painting to hang over the fireplace in the den.” “Does that mean we can leave this overpriced hellhole?” “Yes, and because you‟ve been so patient, I‟m taking you to dinner at my favorite Mexican restaurant, which just so happens to be right down the street.” “Good. Let‟s get out of here. All this ugly art is making my skin crawl.”

*** “Having a little problem? You seem to be squirming around on your seat a bit, honey.” Shaking himself, Win jerked his fingers away from the sensitive area on his neck that D.J. had bitten two days before while they were making love. A tender spot he couldn‟t keep his fingers off. “You know there is. My butt throbs and is probably red.” D.J. leaned closer. “But I don‟t hear you telling me to never spank you again either.” “That might be because I never imagined I might like it.” He felt a nudge against his ankle. “Stop thinking so hard. It was fun and hot, but if it makes you uncomfortable, we don‟t have to do it again.” Win cursed under his breath and tried to ignore the hurt expression on his lover‟s face. His stomach rumbled, shattering the intimate moment. He rubbed his hand over his beard. It had been too many hours since he‟d eaten, and suddenly all he wanted was food. Occasionally he‟d catch a whiff of something wonderful as the door to the kitchen swung open and closed, and the tantalizing aromas had him salivating like Pavlov‟s dogs. “Damn, Win. It sounds like your stomach‟s trying to escape so it can go looking for dinner on its own.” He looked down at the menu and ignored the remark. “Have you decided what you want to order yet?”

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“There are too many choices.” D.J. nudged Win‟s menu with his. “What do you recommend? What‟s good here?” “Everything‟s good, although my all-time favorite is the el grande burrito. It‟s filled with super-tender shredded roast beef, beans, and rice and then covered with a thick and spicy white cheese sauce.” “I‟ve had lots of burritos in my life but never one with that type of beef, but it sounds like something I‟d like.” D.J. ran his foot up the inside of Win‟s leg. His voice dropped to a whisper. “I like the sound of making a meal out of you more.” A fire-hot burning sensation spread over Win‟s neck, and he suddenly felt like using the menu for a fan. “You‟re incorrigible. Absolutely incorrigible.” “Yeah, but you like it when I talk dirty and what it insinuates.” What D.J. said was true. Win couldn‟t deny it. While he wasn‟t comfortable using off-color words outside the bedroom, Win was man enough to admit that hearing those same words uttered by D.J. made him hot. Mind-blowing, eyes-rolledback-into-his-head, rock-hard-in-five-seconds hot. Thank God. Here came their waiter to take their orders. As soon as the waiter left, Win tried to change the direction of their conversation. “I know modern art isn‟t for you, but I know something that might interest you.” D.J. arched an eyebrow. “Are you trying to distract me from talking about sex, licking every inch of your body, or what I‟m going to do to you the next time I get you in bed?” “Yes. No. Yes.” Win pointed at his leering date. “Stop it. I‟m trying to have serious get-to-know-you-better conversation.” “By all means, don‟t let me stop you. Please, go on. Ask your question.” “I will. There‟s a young, talented gay artist with a studio here in town who does the most amazing bronze sculptures of men in passionate embraces or making love.” “That does sounds like something I‟d enjoy.” He leaned forward and rested his elbows on the table. “Have you seen this guy‟s work before?” “Yes, at a friend‟s home. The detail and expressions on the figures are so alive you can almost imagine them breathing. They‟re stunning and arousing, and I‟ve wanted one for the bedroom ever since I saw it. I‟ll need to call my friend for the artist‟s number, but if I make an appointment for a private showing, would you be interested in going with me?” D.J. winked and nudged Win‟s knee with his foot. “Honey, don‟t you know by now that I‟ll follow you anywhere?” His heart pounded, and Win gripped his hands together under the table. “Tell me exactly what that means.” Two diners moved toward their table, and D.J. waited until they passed to answer. “As you know, relationships are new to me—as is the jealousy—which I feel

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the need to apologize for again. The only thing I can say in way of explanation is that I love you.” “Did you say you loved me?” “Yeah, I did.” A broad smile broke over Win‟s face. “Good, because I love you too. You don‟t know how happy hearing that makes me. I was afraid my feelings were one-sided, and I can‟t imagine you not being in my life.” Win winced at the sappy sentiment. If anyone had told him six months ago that he‟d find the love he‟d always wanted and be acting like a lovesick puppy, he‟d have called them crazy, but Lyndsay had told him for years to never give up, and it looked like she was right. Thank god for a good friend.

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Chapter Thirteen “Where the hell have you been?” Ellis asked as D.J. walked through the studio‟s front door. He tapped his watch. “Fridays are always busy, and you‟re two hours late. Where‟ve you been?” “More accurately, it‟s an hour and forty-five minutes.” “Don‟t quibble. Where have you been?” It was obvious by his attitude that Mr. Always Punctual wasn‟t going to let D.J.‟s being late slide like he‟d hoped. “Do you want your damn pastry or not?” D.J. set the small white bag on the counter. “I‟ve had a hectic morning. You‟re lucky I got here as soon as I did.” Ellis grabbed the sack and led the way back to the kitchen. “By the looks of it, I‟m lucky you got here at all.” He groaned as he pulled out a German-chocolate twist. “I hate you.” D.J. laughed as he picked up the mail off the table. “You just hate that you have no willpower when it comes to any dessert that crosses your path.” Which was the truth, but D.J. wasn‟t much better, which was why he‟d only bought them one doughnut apiece. Both cousins had a sweet tooth, and the years since childhood had only made Ellis‟s worse. If D.J. had bought a dozen, by the end of the day, the box would have been empty. He couldn‟t win, so why was he trying? D.J. grinned suddenly because he liked hearing Ellis complain. “I‟ll have you know I have an iron will.” “Not even close.” D.J. took the doughnut Ellis handed him. “What you have is a cast-iron stomach, or else your dietary habits would have put you in the ground years ago.” “This rehashing of my food consumption is interesting, but it still doesn‟t answer where you were and why you didn‟t call me.” “When Camille dropped Ian off at school, he forgot his homework, so I had to run by your house and pick it up. After dropping his papers off at the administration office, I headed to the base to sign a few more papers. My dickhead, homophobic commanding officer is pushing my separation papers through at the speed of light. He wants me gone and forgotten as soon as possible.” “How does he know you‟re gay?”

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D.J. shrugged. “He doesn‟t know; it‟s just speculation. I‟m certain it drives him crazy he can‟t ask or investigate me because doing so would violate government policy.” “I never did understand why anyone ever imagined being gay made you less able to serve your country. It doesn‟t make any sense.” “It doesn‟t. And the idea that homosexuals aren‟t as dedicated and determined to serve this country to the best of their ability is nothing but insulting.” Ellis grabbed the wadded-up pastry bag and tossed it at his cousin‟s head. “Calm down. You‟re getting red in the face.” “I can‟t help it. The idea that I‟m not reliable or that my presence could undermine a military mission is crazy.” “Okay, okay. Let‟s get back to why you didn‟t call.” D.J. gathered up the trash and tossed it in the bin next to the sink. “Because on top of everything else that happened this morning, I ran over my phone with the truck. I had to find a cell phone store to buy another one.” “Are you kidding me?” He snorted. “How the hell did you manage that?” “I didn‟t realize I‟d dropped it until I felt the tire roll over it as I backed out of the parking slot on the base.” “You are such an idiot.” “Oh, shut up, Ellis.” D.J. picked up his coffee, and the two men made their way to the front of the store. “Okay, it was possible running over the phone was a bit klutzy, but I‟d had a lousy morning.” “Yeah, you big dork. You were probably thinking about your guy and not paying attention to what you were doing, and don‟t try to deny it.” D.J. flipped him off, grinning the entire time. “Fine, you‟re right. I was thinking about Win.” His smile faded. “I dropped a bomb on him yesterday with the news I love him.” “Are you kidding me, man? That‟s great. I‟m happy for you. That‟s good, isn‟t it?” “Yeah, it is. We‟d planned to spend the night at his place since Ian was with you and Camille, but he got a call as we left the restaurant and he had to go to the hospital.” “Damn. Too bad.” D.J. shrugged. “At least he didn‟t get paged in the middle of my declaration of undying love and devotion.” Ellis gagged. “Freak.” He flipped his cousin off. “Win‟s cooking dinner for me and Ian this evening.” D.J. held up his hand when Ellis started to speak. “And no, he hasn‟t told his daughter about us yet.” “Why the hell not?”

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“She doesn‟t know her father‟s bisexual; that‟s why.” “I suggest you put a smile on your face and try to make a good impression, because duty calls.” He nodded toward the door. “Here comes his daughter now. She called this morning and wanted to talk about the wedding again.” D.J. groaned. He couldn‟t help it. He looked from the car parked in the lot outside their studio back to his cousin. “How about I let you handle Emily, and I‟ll start the search for the other photographer we need.” “Don‟t even think about it.” Ellis wrapped his hand around D.J.‟s wrist. “She doesn‟t want to talk with me. She asked to speak with you.” “Excuse me?” D.J. felt his stomach plummet. “What could she possibly want to talk to me about that she can‟t with you? Did she say?” The question brought one possibility to mind. Her father. Had she somehow discovered Win‟s sexual orientation and their involvement? Those questions swirled around in D.J.‟s mind as he watched Emily climb from behind the wheel of her silver Lexus and slam the door. “Miss Morgan thinks her father has something special planned for her wedding and wants you to tell her what it is.” “Why would she believe…?” He stopped suddenly and looked over his shoulder at Ellis. “Surprise, Einstein. You. Her father. And the back room.” “We‟ve got a surprise, all right. It‟s just not one she‟s expecting or one I‟m willing to tell her. That nuclear-bombshell piece of information is coming from her father.” The front door swung open, interrupting their conversation. D.J. took a long look at Emily and realized for the first time how much she resembled her father. She had the same fair complexion and big bright green eyes, but her facial features were finer, more delicate. While her mass of thick hair was the same stunning color as Win‟s, Emily‟s had a slight curl that hung well past her shoulders. He opened his eyes wide. Emily wasn‟t strolling casually into their place of business. No, she was striding forward as a battalion advancing on a fortified enemy position, ready to blast away with all guns, and D.J. was on the muzzle side of the gun. As Emily neared the counter, D.J. plastered a smile on his face, stepped forward, and extended his hand in greeting. “Miss Morgan. What a pleasure to see you this morning. My partner said you wanted to talk to me.” “I do if you have a few minutes free.” Emily smiled, and the sparkle in her eyes reminded him of Win. “I‟d like to ask you a couple of questions.” Instead of saying, I’ll just bet you do, as he was thinking, D.J. directed Emily to a small group of chairs across the room. “Please have a seat. Ellis tells me you‟re under the mistaken impression that your father told me a secret when you and he were here the other day.”

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She leaned forward eagerly. “Yes, about my wedding. What did he tell you?” “I‟m sorry to disappoint you, but I don‟t know of any plans.” “You don‟t?” He shook his head. “I‟m afraid not.” At least not about the wedding. “You‟re certain there‟s no secret?” “Not that I‟m aware of.” Can she tell I’m lying? DJ scanned her face and only saw disappointment. “I don‟t know where you got the idea there was a secret but maybe you should ask your father.” Emily heaved a sigh and tossed her bag onto her shoulder. “Thank you. I‟m sorry to have bothered you.” As she walked across the parking lot and climbed into her car, Ellis turned to his cousin. “What are you going to do if she turns up at Win‟s house tonight when he‟s cooking dinner for you and Ian?” D.J. shrugged. “I guess we‟ll deal with it if and when it happens.”

*** Win looked at the white box sitting on the edge of the counter. He smiled as he lifted the lid, inhaling the scent of sinfully rich Black Forest cherry cake. Yum, his favorite. He just hoped D.J. and Ian liked chocolate as much as he did; otherwise, he‟d be eating the decadent three layers—chock-full of calories and fat—alone, probably for the next week. As he drooled over the cake, Janet walked through the door leading to the garage. “Wipe your mouth, Winston. You‟re drooling.” Without thinking, Win reached for a tissue, touched his mouth, and was relieved that spit wasn‟t dripping down his chin. “How the hell did you get in? The garage door should have been down. Make it quick; I have plans for the evening.” “I‟ll just bet you do. You didn‟t see me, but I saw you yesterday outside the gallery. So my guess is you‟re spending the evening with that man I saw you salivating over.” “I don‟t drool or salivate,” Win said in outrage. “I was happy—enjoying our day together.” “You were on a date. In public. With a man. What were you thinking?” Janet asked, her voice harsher than normal. “What if Emily had seen you, or one of our friends? Did you think of that? Of course you didn‟t. You were thinking with your dick and not how your actions could affect our daughter.” Win couldn‟t help but roll his eyes. Janet had always been excessively dramatic, and she was in one of her self-righteous, indignant moods. “First, you gave up the right to complain about my behavior after you climbed between the sheets with another man. Second, Emily is an adult. She‟s getting married and starting her own life, and it‟s time I finally got on with my life too.” “What the hell‟s that supposed to mean?”

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“It means that I don‟t care what you think. I sacrificed my future when you tricked me into getting you pregnant, and I‟m done worrying what other people think. From now on, what I want is going to come before anything else.” Win meant every word he said. Emily had been his priority for as long as he could remember, but no longer. Doing what was best for his daughter now fell to her soon-to-be husband, and his was taking care of D.J. and Ian. “I can‟t believe how selfish you‟re being.” “Excuse me? Did you just say I was selfish?” Win advanced across the room, his hands clenched at his sides. “After what you did to my life?” His whole body shook with anger. “Fuck off, Janet. Take your spiteful attitude and go home.” The look of fear on his ex-wife‟s face was almost pathetic. Janet was used to giving orders, not being on the receiving end, and it looked like she didn‟t know if she should stand her ground or run in the other direction. “I saw you kissing him,” Janet snapped. “I‟ve not leaving until we settle this. You need to be more careful. More discreet.” “There‟s nothing to settle. I‟ve got a life, it doesn‟t involve you, and your opinion doesn‟t matter. I suggest you get used to it.” “I can‟t accept that.” “And I‟m done listening to you complain. Go home, woman! I need to finish dinner before D.J. and his brother arrive. Get out before I throw you out.” She stomped to the door and turned. “I‟ll be watching you. Don‟t think I won‟t.” Win took a deep breath and paused to gather his thoughts. “Not only are you annoying and condescending, but you‟re admitting to being a voyeur, which is illegal. Let me be very clear so there‟s no misunderstanding my meaning. If I find out that you‟re spying on D.J. and me or that you‟ve hired anyone to spy on us, I won‟t just tell your father, I‟ll sue you for invasion of privacy.” “You wouldn‟t dare.” Win pointed to the door leading to the garage. “Take your ass and walk it out of my house and don‟t come back. You weren‟t invited, you aren‟t welcome, and I don‟t want you here.”

*** It was nearly seven when the kitchen door banged open and Ian stormed inside carrying two bulging grocery sacks. “Win, we stopped and bought soda, beer, chips and dip. Where do you want it?” Win pointed. “The island is fine.” He turned off the water running from the kitchen faucet and grabbed a towel. “You must be hungry.” Ian plopped down the sacks and pulled out a bag of chips. “My brother‟s a growing boy and always hungry,” D.J. said as he trailed behind Ian. “You may not have notice but the kid eats constantly.” He slid a plastic

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domed platter next to the now open package of nacho chips. “I didn‟t want to show up for dinner empty-handed, so I picked up a meat and cheese tray, too.” Win closed his eyes and savored the moment as the emotions of being part of a family swamped him. His feelings of happiness and contentment simmered to the surface as did his tears, and he had to blink them away to keep from appearing over-sensitive in front of Ian and D.J. He opened his eyes and looked up to find both brothers staring at him. Wonderful. “Are you okay, Win?” Ian wiped his mouth across his sleeve. “Are you upset because I ate before dinner without asking?” “If you‟re asking whether I‟m mad, the answer‟s no.” Win stepped closer and pulled Ian into a loose-armed hug, and knew he had to be honest. “Seeing you and D.J. standing in my kitchen makes me happy, that‟s all.” He peered at D.J.‟s concerned face, then gave Ian a playful shove to lighten the somber mood. “Why don‟t you help your brother put the food you brought out on the counter and we can snack until dinner is ready.” “Great.” He sniffed as he turned toward the oven. “What are we having?” “Italian meatloaf, twice baked potatoes, garlic bread and side salads.” Ian pumped his fist. “Yes. Italian‟s my favorite.” “That‟s my brother, always thinking with his stomach.” D.J. nudged Ian aside so he could get to the food resting on the island. He pulled out his purchases. “Ian, can you open the bags and containers of dip and then put the soda and beer in the refrigerator, please?” “Sure, D.J.” While Ian puttered around his kitchen, Win naturally drifted to his lover‟s side. It was like the man was his Earth and he was the moon pulled close by D.J.‟s higher gravitational field. Win let D.J. pull him tight against his side, and when D.J. kissed the top of his head, Win knew he was content for the first time in his adult life. The arms that held him were home. “Are you all right, honey?” D.J. whispered against his ear. Win nodded against his shoulder. “I‟m fine. Just feeling at peace with my life, thanks to you.” The sound of Ian‟s voice asking “how much longer until dinner” had Win jumping away from D.J. as if he was a criminal. “God, I‟m sorry. I promised myself I‟d be careful of showing too much affection in front of Ian until he had a chance to get used to us being together.” He stepped farther away from his lover, scanning Ian‟s face for any signs of distress. “Did I upset you?” “Huh?” Ian look confused. “What do I have to be upset about?” “I hugged your brother and said affectionate stuff in front of you.” Ian stuffed a chip in his mouth. “So?” “You don‟t care?”

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D.J. made a grab for Win‟s arm. “You worry too much. Ian‟s fine with us being together.” Is it really this simple? A smile started at the corners of Ian‟s lips, spreading and growing, until it brightened his entire face. “I am going to be fourteen in a few weeks. I might have acted like a jerk when Mom and Dad died, but that doesn‟t mean I‟m totally immature.” He crossed his arms over his lean chest, looking at that moment like a serious miniature version of his brother. “I can tell you guys love each other, so if you want to hold hands and smooch in front of me, it‟s okay. I don‟t mind.” He didn‟t know what to say, and Ian‟s word held Win rooted in place. He wanted it to be that uncomplicated, but knew it might take him awhile for the reality to sink it, and until that happened he might be a little jumpy. “Thank you, Ian. I guess I didn‟t give you enough credit.” “Yeah, thanks, Ian, for trying to put Win‟s mind at rest. It seems he‟s a worrywart.” Ian‟s stomach rumbled, and he stepped closer to the counter, elbowing his brother aside. “Don‟t hog the snacks.” He grabbed a bag, shoved his hand inside, and pulled out a fistful of nacho-flavored chips. He handed the sack to his brother. “Win‟s not the only worrywart. You‟re almost as bad. Now when‟s dinner? I‟m still starving.” “I waited until Ian was out of the room to tell you that Janet dropped by while I was cooking dinner.” “What did Ms. Charm-and-Personality want?” “It seems she saw us the other evening—was outraged that we were in public—on a date.” D.J. stepped closer and backed Win‟s smaller body against the kitchen counter. “I hope you told her to mind her own damn business.” “I did, but it gets better.” Win reached up on tiptoe and nipped D.J.‟s jaw. “I told her if I found out she was spying on us, I‟d do worse than get her father involved. I‟d sue her for invasion of privacy.” “Good. I hope understands you‟re serious.” D.J. stared Win in the eyes. “You were serious, weren‟t you?” “Hell, yes, I‟m serious, although I hate sounding like a vindictive ex-husband.” Win grinned like a Cheshire cat. “I did enjoy seeing her ready to have a stroke.” “And you call yourself a doctor.” Win harrumphed and stepped back. “I‟ll have you know I‟m a good doctor, but I‟m also human, and that woman has made my life miserable.” “You know I won‟t let her hurt you, right?” “I‟m a man, not a kid who needs protecting. I can take care of myself. I have for years.”

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D.J. nibbled at the soft skin at the side of Win‟s neck. “I know, but you‟re my man. I want to take care of you. I know plenty of guys who were or still are in the military who‟d help me out if we found the need to do a little investigating of our own.” Win snuggled closer. “Does it make me a bad person to want her miserable?” “Of course not. Just remember she‟s out of your life as soon as the wedding is over.” “Do you have a fever?” Win placed one hand on D.J.‟s forehead. “Janet and I share a child, who someday soon will give us grandchildren. Do you think we won‟t come into contact and conflict in the future? The holidays alone could be a nightmare.” D.J. grimaced and shrugged. “When you put it like that, I guess it was a naive statement.” “Not naive, D.J., just a little out of your realm of experience.” Win wrapped his arms around D.J.‟s waist. “I guess that‟s a good thing, or I wouldn‟t have found you in the Batting Cage. You‟d already have a partner.” “I am a great catch. Who wouldn‟t want me?” “I‟m ignoring that question. Do we have time for dessert before we drop Ian off at Zack‟s? I have Black Forest Cherry Cake.” “Ian loves chocolate cake, but I love chocolate syrup even better.” D.J. flicked his tongue against Win‟s ear, causing Win to do a full-body shiver. “Especially warmed, drizzled over your nipples and cock, and dripping around your balls and down the sweet crease that leads to your tight little hole.” “Stop, D.J. Ian could walk in any minute.” “It doesn‟t matter. He knows we‟re a couple, and he told us earlier he likes seeing us together. Besides, he‟s in the living room talking to Zack.” Win shrugged. “I know. I‟m being silly.” He wasn‟t stopping, no matter what Win said. D.J. needed to see, to feel what he did to the man he loved. “Imagine my lips on your body, nibbling every dribble of syrup off your skin until not a single drop remains.” He blew softly across the skin of Win‟s neck and grinned when Win started to pant. “Your cock so hard it‟s tapping your belly as you move, your hole clutching, throbbing, wanting my tongue, wanting my dick to fill you.” D.J. watched Win squirm. Win‟s eyelids were already heavy, and his eyes were glazed with lust. He loved seeing his man this way—hot and needy, twitching and shuddering as he pressed close, rubbing his cock against D.J.‟s thigh. “You‟re making me crazy.” Win groaned. “And I plan to make you crazier after we‟re alone.” He looked at his watch and winked. “Which should be in thirty minutes, after we drop Ian off. Do you think you can hold out that long?”

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Before Win could answer, Ian yelled from the living room and then tore down the hall. “D.J. Win.” Win‟s eyes flitted from the doorway to D.J. and then down to the bulge pushing against his zipper. “Do something. Hit me, pinch me. Make it go down.” “I don‟t think there‟s time.” D.J. shook his head. “What am I going to do with you?” D.J. took a step back. Win bolted toward the kitchen table. He jumped behind a chair seconds before Ian rounded the corner and slid into the room. “Zack‟s mom has to pick up a prescription at the store.” He looked from Win to his brother. “She said since she was already out that she‟d pick me up, so I gave her Win‟s address, and she‟ll be here any minute to pick me up. Is that all right?” It was more than all right. In fact, it was perfect, and D.J. couldn‟t keep from smiling. The sooner Zack‟s mom picked up Ian, the sooner he could get his lover stripped naked and under him, which he‟d been looking forward to all day. Since the idea of licking chocolate syrup off Win had popped into this head, D.J. couldn‟t get his brother out of the house fast enough. “Of course it‟s all right. Isn‟t it, honey?” “Thanks for inviting us to your house and cooking dinner. It was great. I had better get my stuff.” “Are you sure you don‟t want cake before you leave?” Win yelled after him as he ran from the room. “No, thank you. Zack‟s mom‟s stopping for Rocky Road ice cream,” Ian called back. “Ian, I brought your backpack in from the car and put it near the door,” D.J. said as he followed his brother out into the hall. “Did you get your portable game out of the living room?” “I got it.” “What about your cell phone? You know you can call if you need anything, right?” “I know, and it‟s in my pocket.” “What about your inhaler?” “It‟s in my backpack.” D.J. started to open his mouth again but stopped when he noticed the frown on his brother‟s face. “What‟s wrong? Did you forget something?” “I‟m not a kid, you know. I‟m almost fourteen, and I‟ve stayed with Zack before.” D.J. winced at the hurt expression on his brother‟s face. “Sorry. I just want to make certain you have everything you need, that‟s all.” D.J. grabbed Ian‟s backpack when he heard a honk. “There she is. Have a good time, and call to let me know when you‟ll be home.” “I will. I promise.”

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The front door slammed, leaving D.J. in the hall alone. He walked to the window and watched as Ian waved good-bye before he climbed into the car and shut the door. He rested his hand on the light switch and waited until he saw the car round the corner and drive out of sight before he turned off the porch light. D.J. practically ran to the kitchen, eager to get his mitts on Win. “Ian‟s gone. It‟s time to play, honey.” “Then get in here, and make it quick.” The eagerness in Win‟s voice had D.J. sprinting down the hall. He stopped at the kitchen door, and his cock became hard as nails at the sight of a naked Win leaning against the closed refrigerator door. “Damn, honey. You look good enough to eat.” “That‟s what I intended.” Win waggled his eyebrows. “There‟s no chocolate or whipped cream, love. I forgot I threw them out when I cleaned the refrigerator. Sorry. You‟ll have to make do with a naked me.” D.J. stepped closer until they were mere inches apart. “I think I can handle a naked you.” He touched Win‟s cheek and trailed his fingers lower until he was able to cup Win‟s cock and balls. “The things I want to do to you.” “Tell me.” “I want to touch you, to fill you up. I want to hear you scream.” D.J.‟s cock throbbed as he thought of Win writhing and moaning under him as he tunneled in and out of Win‟s body. He rested his hands on Win‟s hips. “Are we going to stand here, or are you taking me to bed?” His honey was getting lippy. “I pick option number two: bed.” D.J. grabbed Win‟s right wrist and tossed the smaller man over his shoulder like he weighed nothing. He grabbed Win‟s clothes and stuffed them under his free arm. “Let‟s get this show on the road, honey.” As he moved down the hall and up the stairs to the bedroom, Win started to slip. “Don‟t drop me, or the evening will end much faster than either of us wants. I don‟t need more stitches.” “I wouldn‟t dream of dropping you.” D.J. stopped at the end of the bed. “Except on the mattress.” He grinned and flipped Win off his shoulder, then laughed as his man bounced. “Hey, give a guy a little warning.” “I can do that.” D.J. dropped Win‟s clothes on a chair, toed off his shoes, pulled the T-shirt over his head, shoved his jeans down his legs, and kicked them aside. The words “here I come” were barely out of his mouth when he pounced and landed between Win‟s spread legs. Before Win could move, D.J. sucked one of his tightly drawn-up balls into his mouth and rolled his tongue over and around the muskyscented flesh.

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“Oh. Oh my. Don‟t stop. Please. Please don‟t stop.” He loved the scent and taste of Win‟s skin, and there wasn‟t any way he was stopping. Not even if the house was on fire. Well, if the house was on fire—maybe. D.J. snickered as he switched to the other succulent nut. “Quit laughing, D.J.” Win tried to wriggle away. “Don‟t make me hurt you.” “Okay, okay, honey. I‟m sorry; I shouldn‟t have laughed at you.” He kissed Win‟s inner thigh and nuzzled his balls. “I love your scent. It makes me hard.” “Everything about you makes me hard.” Win bucked his hips, and his cock hit D.J.‟s chin. “Suck me.” “Say please.” Win buried his fingers in D.J.‟s hair and pulled. “Don‟t tease. Suck me. Please.” Leaning up on his elbows, D.J. ran his tongue up the bobbing cock in front of his face. Not only was his honey lippy, he was testy too. “You get grumpy when you‟re deprived, honey.” Win frowned and blew the air out of his lungs, fluttering his bangs off his forehead. “Then ungrump me by sucking my cock.” “Is ungrump a word?” “D.J.,” Win wailed in frustration. “Suck me!” “No.” D.J. pressed down on Win‟s hips, holding him in place. He bent and inhaled deeply, the scent a pleasant mix of scented body wash and aroused man. His man. When D.J. touched Win‟s hole with his tongue, Win bucked and moaned and pressed closer. Then he let out a ragged moan. “You‟re driving me crazy.” D.J. pulled away and then gripped Win‟s cock. “I intend to make you a lot crazier before the night is out.” He nuzzled and licked, then swallowed Win down to the root and grinned when his lover screamed. “Oh my God.” Win thrust his hips. “Oh my God.” D.J. pulled back far enough to take small bites from the sensitive area directly under the crown for a few seconds. He twirled his tongue around the sides of Win‟s cock and swallowed, pleased at Win‟s moans and whimpers. “You‟re trying to kill me.” Win fisted the sheets. “You‟re definitely trying to kill me with sex.” After another deep breath through his nose, D.J. swallowed again and then pulled off with an exaggerated pop. “Not even close, but I could try.” “Are you kidding me?” Win wiped the sweat from his eyes. “No. No more. Just fuck me before I lose my mind.” D.J. pulled back and kissed the tip of Win‟s cock, uncertain whether the taste of his lover or the man‟s sounds of pleasure turned him on more. “Your wish is my command.” He tapped Win‟s hip. “Hand me the slick.” Win slapped his hand away when he tried to small tube of lubricant off the nightstand. “Let me taste you first.”

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“No. You can‟t. If you don‟t want me to blow before I get inside, don‟t touch my cock any more than you have to.” “Don‟t you dare. Sit up.” Win leaned forward and ran the flat of his tongue over the tip of D.J.‟s cock. “I‟ve waited all day to get your cock up my ass.” D.J. gritted his teeth. “Then I suggest you hurry.” He grabbed the lube bottle and poured a large amount over the condom. D.J. slowly pushed past the first ring of muscle and into the welcoming heat of Win‟s body until he was fully sheathed. “Is it all right to move?” “Yes.” Win gripped his wrist and nodded. “Do it. Move. Now.” D.J. didn‟t need to be told twice. He pulled out until only the head of his cock was still inside and then surged forward. After the initial inward stroke, he set a brutal pace, each flex of his hips thrusting his cock into Win‟s channel hard enough to slam the headboard against the wall. “I‟m almost there.” Win tugged on D.J.‟s wrists. “Harder.” “I don‟t want to hurt you.” “You won‟t.” Win‟s eyes closed, and suddenly D.J. felt the small body under him writhe at the same time he screamed, “I‟m coming. Oh God, it‟s good, D.J. So good.” The muscles of Win‟s channel clamped down on D.J.‟s cock like a vise, the milking, rippling pressure sending D.J. over the edge just seconds later. His arms collapsed, and D.J. slumped onto Win‟s chest. “Are we still alive?” D.J. asked. “Damn. That was good.” “I couldn‟t agree more.” A smile curved the corners of D.J.‟s mouth as Win wrapped his arm possessively around his back. He sucked air in and out of his lungs like a bellows. “Are you sure we‟re still alive? I can‟t feel my toes.”

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Chapter Fourteen Waking up with Win in his arms was fast becoming one of D.J.‟s favorite ways to begin each day, whether Win was snuggled up against his side or lying half across his chest like he was this morning. While sleeping, his man was a cuddly bear who radiated waves of heat, and he didn‟t believe in staying on his half of the bed either, which was just fine with D.J. At least he didn‟t hoard the sheet and blanket. Stifling a yawn, D.J. reached out and swept aside the stray hairs brushing across Win‟s eyelashes. Win started to stir, his lips nuzzling, his tongue flicking out, tasting, and touching D.J.‟s skin. “Honey. You‟re killing me here.” D.J. bit back a moan. He ran a hand up and down Win‟s back in small, soothing circles and smiled as Win quieted. D.J. scooted up in bed and leaned against the headboard. “Wake up, honey.” Win mumbled and snuggled closer. “Lazybones, are you going to sleep all morning?” Win buried his fist in his left eye and rubbed vigorously. “What time is it?” D.J. glanced at the clock on the dresser, which showed it had been almost four hours since they‟d fallen into an exhausted sleep after making love for the third time. The last time had been the best, and lights had flashed in front of his eyes when he climaxed. “It‟s almost seven.” “Are you crazy? We didn‟t turn out the lights until three.” Win yawned and rubbed his eyes again. “I‟m not as young as you. You wore me out. I need my beauty rest.” D.J. wrapped his arms around Win‟s shoulders and leaned down to press a kiss to his lips. “I can guarantee I‟ll keep you in bed. I just can‟t promise you‟ll get any sleep.” Win nipped D.J.‟s chin. “You‟re insatiable.” “Shut up and kiss me.” Win crawled up onto D.J.‟s lap, grabbed the headboard, threw his leg over D.J.‟s muscular thighs, and settled atop the cock he loved so much. Win leaned forward to nibble the tender flesh under his ear. “I love you.”

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“I love you too, honey. More than I ever imagined.” Did that sound as girlie as he thought it did? He shrugged. Probably, but he was so happy he didn‟t care. The door leading to the hall opened with a squeak, and the sound as it swung inward caught D.J.‟s attention. He peered over Win‟s shoulder and groaned. “Just great.” He slid Win onto the mattress and pulled the sheet over them both. “Honey, we have company.” “Excuse me?” D.J. nodded toward the far side of the room. “I said we have company.” The color rushed from Win‟s face, leaving him pale as death. “Please, tell me it‟s not Emily.” “I wish I could, but I can‟t.” Win tugged the covering more firmly around his hips. “I thought I told you to call before you dropped by.” Emily took a step back as if slapped, and D.J. winced and doubted whether Win‟s going on the offensive while naked was the right tactic. He pulled his shaking man closer and ran a hand down Win‟s side before resting it on his hip. “Oh my heavens. You‟re one of the photographers we hired to shoot my wedding.” She turned to her father. Tears shimmered in her eyes, and her lower lip quivered. “How could you?” “I have a right to a life that makes me happy.” “When Mom called this morning and said you were gay, I called her a dishonest bitch.” She chuckled bitterly. “I guess I owe her an apology.” “You don‟t owe your meddling mother anything.” Emily‟s face was as pale as her father‟s, and tears trickled down her cheeks. “You lied to me.” Emily brushed the tears away. “You told me you were involved with a woman.” “I did not,” Win snapped. “I just didn‟t correct your assumption.” “You‟re my father. I deserved to know!” Win rolled his eyes, and D.J. could hear him grinding his teeth together. His honey‟s temper was ready to explode. “Now you‟re being ridiculous. How many times have I told you I‟m the parent and you‟re the child? I don‟t owe you an explanation for my actions, and I won‟t make excuses for falling in love.” “What?” Emily shrieked. “I said I was in love.” Win grasped D.J.‟s hand, his expression begging his daughter to understand. “We‟re in love.” The more Win moved, the more the sheet covering them slipped, until D.J. was forced to make a grab for it to keep from exposing their naked bodies. “I think we should get dressed before this conversation goes any further.” “Exactly what I was thinking,” Win agreed. “Emily, wait for me in the living room.”

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“Fine. Just don‟t take all morning. I have stuff to do.” Pulling the blanket up from the foot of the bed, D.J. wrapped it around his hips. He looked up and Emily was still standing there. “Would you do as your father asked? I‟d like to put on my clothes.” A bright flush spread across her cheeks. “Fine.” She looked at her father. “I‟ll be downstairs.” As soon as Emily tromped from the room, both men jumped from the bed and grabbed their pants. As he was shoving one leg into his jeans, Win lost his balance and needed to take several hopping steps to avoid falling on his face. He righted himself at the last second and finished dressing without further incident. “D.J., I‟m so sorry. I never imagined Emily would show up this morning.” “There‟s no reason for you to apologize. It‟s not your fault.” “Yes, it is.” He groaned. “I should have told her myself. Thinking Janet would mind her own business and keep her mouth shut was just stupid.” D.J. stared at him a few seconds and then shook his head. “Not telling her about us wasn‟t your most rational decision.” “Don‟t remind me.” Win slipped on his shoes. “Come one. Let‟s get this over with.” D.J. followed Win down the stairs. “Should I make coffee while you talk to Emily?” They stopped at the bottom of the stairs. “Would you please? Make it extrastrong.” “I‟d be happy to.” D.J. leaned down and kissed Win‟s cheek. “Talk to Emily, and if you feel up to it after she leaves, we‟ll go out for waffles. If you don‟t, I‟ll make breakfast here.” As Win turned right to walk into the living room, D.J. turned left and went down the hall to the kitchen. He stood next to the microwave and listened, and considered it a good sign that he didn‟t hear yelling or crying. After pulling the grinder and beans from the upper shelf, he measured out enough for half a pot. D.J. stared out the window while the grinder whirled, hoping Win‟s talk with his daughter was going better than he feared. When the machine shut off, he heard the first hint of trouble in Emily‟s shrill voice. “I can‟t believe you didn‟t tell me you were gay. Didn‟t you think it might be something I needed to know?” Win‟s answer was just as loud, and D.J. could hear his pain and anger with each word. “I‟m not gay; I‟m bisexual. My sexual preference isn‟t the issue. You overstepping your boundaries is. The gender of my bed partner isn‟t your business.” “How can you say that?” Emily screamed. “What are people going to say? What are the parents of your patients going to say?” She paused for a second. “What are Wyatt and his family going to say? What if his parents insist he cancel the wedding?”

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“Don‟t talk nonsense. Wyatt loves you, and he isn‟t going to break your engagement because I have a male lover. What you need to understand is that I don‟t give a damn what people say about my sexuality. I will not have my life dictated to by anyone—and that includes you, Emily.”

*** “Am I the last person to know?” Emily frowned and wrung her hands. “When did Mom find out? Is that why she started seeing her husband—because you liked men?” He couldn‟t help it. Win rolled his eyes, which was a safer, saner response than yelling like a lunatic. His heart hurt, his head was pounding, and he could feel his pulse throbbing in his neck. “It wasn‟t a secret. She knew I enjoyed the company of both sexes, and I, unlike your mother, was faithful during the years of our marriage. You‟ll have to ask her why she felt it was necessary to commit adultery.” Win was having a difficult time believing the stressed young woman standing in front of him with tears running down her face was his normally calm and rational child. Emily was pale, shaking, and looked as if she was on the verge of an emotional collapse, and Janet and her half-truths and lies were behind it. Instead of lashing out, Win stepped forward and pulled Emily into his arms. “You have to calm down, or you‟re going to make yourself sick.” He tried to smile. “You know how much you hate making a scene.” “I hate vomiting more.” She rubbed her stomach and leaned into her father. “You know I love you, but I don‟t understand how you could do this.” He groaned and let his hands drop, knowing nothing he could say would make a difference. “You don‟t have to understand or even like it. What you do need to do is accept my decisions and let me live my life on my terms.” Pulling her sweater tighter around her body, Emily sighed and shook her head. “I don‟t know if I can. I mean, accept your decision to love a man.” It felt like he‟d taken a punch to the gut, but it didn‟t change his determination to make a life with D.J. and Ian. “How would you feel if I‟d told you I didn‟t want you involved with Wyatt?” “What? Why would you?” she sputtered. “My loving Wyatt is different.” “Excuse me?” Now he was getting angry again. How could his normally openminded daughter make such a two-faced remark? “Explain to me how it‟s different.” “We‟re getting married and want to start a family.” Win snorted in disgust. “What makes you think I wouldn‟t marry D.J. if I were able?” Emily‟s eyes widened, and her already pale skin became even more washed-out and sickly looking. “You can‟t be serious?” “Why wouldn‟t I be? People in love want to share their lives, and that means living together and getting married. Why would you think I‟d be any different?”

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“I can‟t talk about this anymore.” She clamped a hand over her mouth. “I think I‟m going to be ill.” Emily‟s reaction sickened him to his core as nothing else ever had. “I don‟t think we have anything else to say. I think you should leave. Now!” Her mouth dropped open. “Daddy. You can‟t mean that.” Win raised his hands as he stepped back and put the coffee table between them. “I do and I can. You should leave and spend a little time thinking about the dangers of judging others.” She didn‟t answer. “Leave your key. I don‟t want you showing up unannounced again in the future.” From where he stood, Win watched unmoving as Emily picked up her purse from the sofa and walked slowly to the front door. She pulled the single key out of her purse and dropped it onto the small table next to the door. Her shoulders hunched as she turned the knob and opened the door. “I do love you, you know.” “By your actions and words, I doubt you know the meaning of love.” After Emily stepped off the porch, Win shut and locked the door. He heaved a disappointed sigh, turned on his heel, and headed for the kitchen, D.J., and his first mug of caffeine for the day. Despite the emotional upheaval, Win had felt like the weight of the world had been lifted off his shoulders, and he was suddenly ravenous. He rubbed his hands together in anticipation. If they hurried there was time to stop for breakfast before D.J. went into work. A couple of blueberry-pecan waffles with real maple syrup, orange juice, and coffee with side orders of fresh fruit, maple-cured bacon, and cheesy scrambled eggs sounded just about perfect. “Hey, D.J.D. Is the coffee ready?” Win stuck his head into the kitchen, then stopped at the doorway. The room was empty. “D.J.? Where are you?” That‟s when he saw the grinder filled with partially ground beans and the cold, empty coffeemaker. He moved back out into the hall and listened to the complete silence. There wasn‟t a creak, squeak, or thud of movement to show he was anything but alone. What was going on? Win went from room to room, beginning with the half bath down the hall. When he‟d finished with the first-floor rooms and found them empty, he was angry, but he was frantic by the time he reached the master bedroom. “D.J., this isn‟t funny. Where are you? Answer me!” No answering laugh. No jumping out to surprise him. Nothing but a lonely, gloomy silence. Where was his lover? That‟s when he remembered how well voices carried in his big, old house, and he and Emily hadn‟t been quiet. Win looked around the bedroom. Apart from the rumpled bedding hanging off the mattress, pillows thrown on the floor, and the faint scent of sex, there wasn‟t any evidence of D.J. ever having been there. None.

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After taking the stairs two at a time, Win rushed down the hall and into the kitchen, nearly falling as he slipped on the throw rug. When he reached the door to the garage, he stopped and rested his head on the door frame. “Please let his truck be in the garage… Please let his truck be in the garage… Please let his truck be in the garage.” As much as he wanted to believe that D.J. was hiding somewhere, Win knew he was gone, even without seeing the proof of an empty spot next to his rental. He stood up straight and jerked open the door. “You bastard. If you think I‟ll let you get away with walking out on me, you‟re out of your damn mind.”

*** How had he gotten himself into such a mess? “Getting involved with a divorced man; that‟s how,” he grumbled. “I‟m such an idiot. It was an unrealistic pipe dream to think Win‟s daughter would accept me or our relationship.” That‟s what hurt the most—Emily‟s close-minded and hateful attitude, which he hadn‟t expected. The child Win cared for more than anyone else in the world had dismissed the love he shared with her father as something disgusting. D.J. wanted to hate her, but he just couldn‟t. She was scared, upset, and lashing out in anger and fear. D.J. signaled, changed lanes, and almost slammed into the back of a red SUV that swerved into his path. “What the fuck do you think you‟re doing?” D.J. yelled through the open window as he laid on the horn. “Where‟d you learn to drive, moron? Stupid damn kid.” D.J. glared at the young driver who was flipping him off. “He‟s going to kill somebody if he‟s not careful. Where are the cops when you need them?” Seconds later, D.J. saw a police car pull behind the kid‟s car with red lights flashing. “Serves you right, you little prick.” D.J. laughed, his mood improved for a few seconds. He continued down the street, passing the post office, dry cleaners, and bank before reaching the entrance to his neighborhood. After pulling into the driveway, he waited until the garage door rose, then drove inside and turned off the engine. As the door descended, he rested his head on the steering wheel and pounded his forehead against it lightly. “What the hell am I going to tell Ian? Shit. I don‟t believe this.” Groaning, D.J. climbed out of the truck and went inside. He looked around the kitchen and thought how quiet the house seemed without Ian and Win moving around in the other rooms. Being alone was normal for him and had been for years, but today he didn‟t like it. Today he minded being alone a lot. D.J. rubbed his neck. The mild throb in his head that had started with Emily‟s yelling was now a steady, painful pounding behind his eyes. He hadn‟t had a headache since—he pondered for a moment—It had been so long he couldn‟t remember. Praying there was a pain killer in the medicine cabinet, D.J. shielded his eyes from the light blaring in through the back window and crept to the small half bath.

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After jerking open the cabinet, he rummaged through the contents and came up with antibiotic ointment, bandages, tweezers, and one of Ian‟s old inhalers, but no painkillers. Next he searched through the small basket of miscellaneous stuff crammed under the sink, and there, buried at the bottom, was a small bottle with four little caplets. Clutching the bottle, D.J. walked back to the kitchen. He‟d just pulled a clean glass from the dishwasher when the phone rang. “Shit.” D.J. hastily filled the glass with water, slammed back the pills, and picked up the phone. “Faulkner. Talk.” “Good morning, Cousin. What‟s got you in a foul humor? Did you have a disagreement with your cute little doctor?” “Is there a reason for this call, Ellis? I mean, besides annoying me?” Ellis laughed. “Do I need another reason?” On a typical morning, it wouldn‟t have mattered if Ellis called so early, but between the episode at Win‟s and his throbbing head, D.J. wasn‟t in the mood for banter. “Ellis,” D.J. rasped as he shifted the phone from one ear to the other. “I‟m not in the mood. Did you need something?” “You sound funny. What happened?‟ If it weren‟t for the pain in his head, D.J. would have laughed. Instead, he grumbled and moved to the counter to start a pot of coffee, thinking the caffeine would help his headache. “I don‟t want to talk about it, if you don‟t mind.” “And if I do?” “Too fucking bad,” D.J. snarled before he could rein in his temper. “I said I don‟t want to talk about it!” “I get it,” Ellis said, his voice tinged with concern. “You don‟t want to talk, but it sounds to me like you need to. Come on, D.J.; tell me what‟s going on. Why are you upset? Is it Win? Did you have a fight? What?” D.J. didn‟t answer any of his cousin‟s questions but continued to hold the phone next to his ear as he poured water and coffee into the coffeemaker. He flipped on the switch. “You still there?” “Where else would I go? Did you hear the door slam?” “You are in a mood.” His cousin had been nothing but supportive and didn‟t deserve to bear the brunt of his ill humor. D.J. paused while he counted to five. “Sorry. What couldn‟t wait until I got to the office?” “I wanted to let you know I got a call from the moving company you hired. I know it‟s a little unusual to make a delivery over the weekend, but they‟re supposed to be here with your photography equipment this morning, and I wanted you to be here when it arrived.” “No problem. I should be there on time.” “Good. Now, are you going to tell me what happened or make me guess?”

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D.J. poured his coffee. “I‟d like to make you guess, but I‟m not in the frame of mind to play guessing games.” “Just tell me. Or do I have to come over there and beat the information out of you?” “My head is already pounding, and a beating would only make it worse, so no.” “Get on with it.” Where to start and what to say in order to avoid sounding like a spineless moron for walking out on Win? There was nothing. “I didn‟t have a fight with Win.” “Then what happened?” “Nothing much. Early this morning, Win‟s daughter burst into the bedroom. As you can imagine, the poor young woman got the shock of her life when she found us naked and her father straddling my hips.” “Are you kidding me?” “I wish.” “So, what now?” The memory of Emily‟s horrified expression settled like battery acid on D.J.‟s stomach. He pushed his mug away. “I think I might be sick.” “It couldn‟t be that bad.” “You didn‟t see her face or hear the hateful things she said to her father. To make matters worse, I sneaked out of the house like a coward while they were still arguing.” “What kind of moron are you?” “One who doesn‟t want Win‟s relationship with his daughter destroyed,” D.J. snapped back. “I think you‟d better be worrying about your own relationship with Win and forget what his daughter says or thinks. You need to go back to Win‟s and apologize. Right now!” And that‟s what bothered D.J. the most. Instead of staying and talking to his lover about Emily‟s concerns and fears, he‟d fled the house as if his ass were on fire, afraid Win would pick his daughter over him. D.J. had let fear cloud his judgment, and he‟d left before Win‟s rejection could rip out his heart and stomp on it. Now he had to deal with the results of his actions, and that meant going to Win and saying he was sorry—that he was a jerk for running away. “You‟re right—begging and groveling.” “So what are you waiting for? Get your ass back over to Win‟s and grovel, on your knees if you have to.” As D.J. picked up his coffee mug, the doorbell rang, followed by thuds on the front door. He hung his head and groaned. “I don‟t think I‟ll need to hurry over to Win‟s after all.” “Why not?”

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“Because I‟d guess by the pounding on the door that he‟s standing on my front porch.” “You‟re screwed.” “Don‟t I know it?”

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Chapter Fifteen “Answer the door,” Win snapped. “I know you‟re in there.” He pounded again. “I can see your truck through the garage window.” After walking to the other side of the porch, Win peered through the miniblinds covering the living-room window but only got angrier when he didn‟t see any sign of movement. “Where are you?” He cupped his hand over his eyes and looked through the glass again. “I swear I‟m going to beat your very fine ass.” He stared at the newspaper lying on the porch, opening and closing his fist as he imagined hitting his man over the head with it. It wasn‟t as if the plastic-covered roll would do any damage to D.J.‟s thick skull, but hearing the satisfying thud would go a long way toward improving his mood, at least for a few seconds. Maybe. Maybe not. Walking back to the door, Win hit the heavy wood with his fist, then kicked aside the rug when his pounding went unanswered. “I don‟t believe this.” Win knew he was mumbling aloud, and any of the neighbors who could see or hear him would likely think he was a raving lunatic, but he didn‟t care. It also didn‟t stop him from looking up and down the street to see if anyone was paying attention to the crazy bearded man pacing back and forth. The longer he stood on the front porch, the more frustrated he grew. Why wasn‟t D.J. answering the doorbell? Was he asleep? Was he in the shower? Was he even home? “Shit!” Was the motorcycle he‟d seen on his first visit even parked in the garage? Win stomped to the right side of the porch so he could lean over the railing to see inside the attached garage again. He heaved a sigh of relief when he saw the black and chrome motorcycle next to the upright freezer, the helmet resting on the leather seat. “Thank God.” He looked over his shoulder at the door. “So why isn‟t he answering?” Knowing D.J. was inside the house and refusing to come to the door made Win‟s vision haze over in a sea of red as his temper and blood pressure soared. He balled up his fist, putting all the strength of his upper body behind each pound and making the door shake in its heavy frame. “I‟m not leaving until you talk to me,” he yelled. Win pounded again. The door opened without warning, and he fell through the entry and landed on his hands and knees next to a pair of large bare feet.

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He glanced up past a hole in a pair of faded jeans, then higher to an army belt buckle and higher still to a chest clad in a tight gray T-shirt, until his gaze came to rest on D.J.‟s face. Instead of the doubt and concern Win saw on D.J.‟s face calming his anger, they only ratcheted his anger higher. “Are you hurt, honey?” “Don‟t call me that.” Win lashed out and struck D.J. on the mouth. D.J. stumbled back and hit the small hall table, overturning it and sending the stained-glass lamp crashing to the floor. When he raised his hand to his lip, it came back covered in blood. “What the hell is wrong with you? You split my lip.” “Why‟d you run out on me?” Win snapped back. He planted both hands on D.J.‟s chest and shoved. “You said you loved me. Instead, at the first hint of trouble, you ran like your hair was on fire. You‟re lucky I didn‟t split your thick skull. Talk.” “I‟m not discussing this so that the whole neighborhood can hear our business.” D.J. shut the door and slipped past Win. “If you want to talk, follow me to the kitchen. You didn‟t get your early morning caffeine fix.” Oh, he‟d follow all right. If for no other reason than to smack D.J. on the head for making him wait—again—for answers. Win scowled at D.J.‟s retreating back. “Shit,” Win mumbled as his cock started to rise and press against his zipper. He was not letting his libido take control. “Are you coming or not?” D.J. asked. “What I want is an explanation about what happened this morning. Why you left.” D.J. opened the cabinet and pulled out a mug. “Do you want it or not?” “Quit stalling and answer the question.” D.J. ignored the comment and poured the coffee, followed by creamer and sugar—just the way Win liked it. “Sit. Do you want toast? I have strawberry jam and orange marmalade.” Win hit the table with his fist. “What I want is for you to sit down and talk to me.” After placing both mugs onto the table and sliding one to Win, D.J. pulled out a chair and sat down. “I don‟t know what to say except I‟m sorry.” “That‟s not good enough.” Win counted to five—twice—and tried to keep his voice even when he replied. “I want an explanation for why you took off.” When D.J. didn‟t answer fast enough, Win couldn‟t stop himself. He snapped, “Now!” D.J. sipped his coffee, staring over the rim of the cup, his fingers wrapped around the sides. “You and Emily were loud, so I couldn‟t help but hear you. She made it crystal clear how she feels about our involvement. Saying she hates it is putting it mildly.” He set his mug on the table and leaned forward. “Honey, never doubt for a minute that I love you, but—”

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“But what?” Win interrupted in a sudden near panic that had his heart thudding like he‟d jogged a mile. “You‟re dumping me because my daughter is having trouble accepting her father is in love with a man?” “Don‟t be ridiculous. I never meant to hurt you and didn‟t say anything about dumping you.” Win‟s relief lasted seconds. “Then why did you say but?” “The but is that catching us together freaked your daughter out.” “Catching me naked with anyone would have freaked her out.” “From what I overheard, it‟s pretty obvious it‟s going to be difficult for her to accept our being together; she might not ever accept it. I also know how much you love your only child, and I refuse to be the cause of destroying your bond with her. I can‟t do it.” “Emily will eventually come around.” “As much as I want you to be right, what if you‟re wrong? What then?” “I know my daughter, and I‟m telling you she‟ll get over it. She just needs time to process what she‟s learned and realize we‟re happy together.” “What if she doesn‟t? Emily‟s wedding is only weeks away, and she and Wyatt will want to start a family. Don‟t you want to be part of your grandchildren‟s lives?” “You‟re making this more difficult than it needs to be.” D.J.‟s resigned expression froze Win‟s heart like a block of ice. “What I am is being sensible because I don‟t want you to hate me for ruining your life.” “I could never hate you.” “You say that now, but I can‟t—I won‟t—take that chance.” D.J. stood. “That‟s why I want you to take a few days and think about what you want.” “I know what I want,” Win answered. “You.” “And I want you to be able to live with a decision that might include a future without your daughter.” Win gripped the edge of the table. It had taken him years to find a man to spend the rest of his life with, and the noble bastard was pissing him off while breaking his heart and scaring him to death all at the same time. Giving him time to think didn‟t make sense, at least none his rattled mind could make out. “D.J.D., please don‟t do this to me.” He locked eyes with his lover. “Don‟t do this to us.” D.J. moved away from the table. “I‟m doing this for you. You‟re getting a chance to change your mind, and if you decide to dump me, it will hurt, but I‟ll also understand.” “Well, good for you, you arrogant bastard. Have it your way. I can see I‟m not going to change your mind.” Win rose to his feet. “Get it through your stubborn head right now, Captain. A few days apart isn‟t going to change my mind. You‟re the only man I want in my life and in my bed.”

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*** After opening the unlocked studio back door, D.J. walked down the hall and headed toward the room where he and Ellis planned to store the pieces of photography equipment he‟d had shipped from North Carolina. D.J. would have preferred to move his belongings himself, but the distance and the weight and bulk of the equipment when padded and boxed made it unsuitable for transport any other way than by insured freight. When he stuck his head through the doorway, he saw Ellis standing across the room as two men unloaded the boxes from a large dolly. “Hey, Cousin. Sorry I‟m late. I got here as fast as I could.” Ellis was lucky he‟d shown up at all. After he‟d watched Win walk out of the door, climb into his rental car, and drive away, coming into work was the last thing D.J. wanted to do. Except a promise to his cousin was a promise, and the fact he was miserable wasn‟t anybody‟s fault but his own. “I‟ll be right with you,” Ellis called back without looking up from the paperwork he was examining. He squared his shoulders and walked into the room, determined to pretend nothing was wrong. “Is there a problem?” “According to the list you left me, we‟re missing the large box with your backdrops.” Ellis pointed to the table. “And the box with your filters and lenses looks like a gorilla sat on it.” When he got close enough to the crushed box, he tugged the inventory sheet out of his cousin‟s hand and started to swear. “Son of a bitch. I told those morons at the freight office that some of this stuff needed special care. Don‟t they know what the word fragile means?” “Don‟t blow a gasket, D.J. It might not be as bad as it looks.” “Right.” He pointed at the older of the two deliverymen. “Don‟t even think about leaving until I‟ve checked the box, and I suggest one of you gets on the phone and finds my missing backdrops.” D.J. pulled out a pocketknife and cut through the tape holding closed what remained of the torn lid. He dropped the knife onto the table and opened the first flap, then growled at the sight of shattered glass and bent metal sitting on a bed of dirty bubble wrap. He pulled one broken lens after another from the mangled box, which only made his growling worse. Ellis was wrong. The box didn‟t look like a gorilla had sat on it. It looked like a truck tire had run over it, and the telltale evidence was the dirty tire print on the cardboard underneath the otherwise clean packing tape. He dug through the box, one layer at a time, and when he‟d reached the bottom, he found one intact lens. “How the hell did this happen?” D.J. snapped at the younger deliveryman. “Did you think I wouldn‟t notice a smashed box of photography equipment?”

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“Look, Mr. Faulkner. My partner and I didn‟t have anything to do with running over your stuff. All we did was unload the freight already on the truck. The damage must have happened on the other end. I‟ll be happy to supply you with the forms you‟ll need to file a claim with the company, and give you the information on where to send the paperwork.” “What about my missing box?” “According to the home office, it‟s sitting in Austin, waiting for the next truck heading this way.” “Which will be when?” “Sometime next week.” “Son of a bitch—” “D.J., leave the man alone,” Ellis interrupted. “None of this mess is his fault, and you getting upset isn‟t helping.” Ten minutes later, the claim paperwork listing details of the damaged property was completed and D.J. had made a copy for his records. After a brief apology and handshake, the cousins herded the movers out the back door and locked it behind them. The damage to his belongings only compounded an already painful and frustrating morning, so D.J. wasn‟t paying attention when Ellis halted in the middle of the hall. “So are you going to tell me what happened to your face?” Without thinking, D.J. lifted a hand to his mouth and winced as he touched his throbbing lip. “I guess you could say Win and I had a difference of opinion.” “I don‟t believe it. He hit you?” “Believe it. The man‟s got a mean uppercut.” “Your squeeze doesn‟t seem the violent type.” Ellis narrowed his eyes. “Wait a minute. What happened?” D.J. ignored the question and continued walking to the front of the store. Thinking Ellis would leave him alone was too much to hope for, so it didn‟t surprise D.J. when his cousin grabbed his elbow. “I asked you what happened.” “I told you Win‟s daughter showed up at the house unexpectedly this morning.” “Yes, but that still doesn‟t explain why the doc hit you.” The logical part of D.J.‟s brain didn‟t want to talk about it, because he knew he should have handled Emily‟s horrified reaction better. But he hadn‟t handled it well, and he wasn‟t certain who irritated him more: himself for running away or Emily for being homophobic. D.J. rubbed his hand over his lower jaw, taking care not to touch his mouth. “Leaving without telling him isn‟t the only stupid thing I did this morning.” Ellis walked to the nearest chair and plopped into it. “All right. Let‟s hear it. How stupid were you?”

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“Certifiable. I was afraid Win would hate me for destroying his relationship with Emily, so I told him to take a few days to decide what he wanted.” “What the fuck were you thinking?” Ellis snapped. “You‟re right. You‟re nuts.” “Gee, I can‟t thank you enough for your support.” “Well, guess what, Einstein?” Ellis jerked his thumb toward the front window. “I can see his daughter getting out of her car now.” “Great!” D.J. covered the short distance to the front counter, where he waited for Emily to enter the store. He watched as she slammed the car door, straightened her shirt, dropped a key ring inside her large shoulder bag, and marched up the sidewalk and through the front door. When D.J. didn‟t greet her, Ellis stood and moved around the counter. “How can we help you, Miss Morgan?” “Yes, what can we do for you today?” D.J. studied her frown. “Did you have something you wanted to say?” “I came in for two reasons.” Emily kept her gaze on Ellis. “One, to tell you the services of your studio are no longer needed for my wedding. I‟ve contacted another photographer.” She turned her attention to D.J. “And I wanted to tell you to leave my father alone.” Hearing the venom dripping from Emily‟s voice as she demanded he stay away from the man he loved made D.J. angry, giving him a desire to put the young woman and her holier-than-thou-attitude in her place. “If you and your mother decide to cancel your contract, that‟s your privilege, but it doesn‟t mean you get out of your financial obligation to pay the fee she agreed on.” “Excuse me?” Emily‟s shocked expression was priceless, and it took all D.J.‟s self-control not to laugh in her face. “It‟s a legally-binding document.” “He‟s right, my dear,” Ellis interjected. “You should always read the fine print. Your mother signed the contract.” “You‟ve got to be kidding me.” This time D.J. did laugh. “I couldn‟t be more serious. She owes us the money whether we photograph your wedding and reception or not.” “That‟s crazy,” she replied weakly. “If you don‟t believe Ellis, you could always check with a lawyer.” D.J. gave no outward hint of the simmering anger and frustration he was feeling, he just continued to stare. “Second, whether your father and I remain together isn‟t your concern. I suggest you butt out and mind your own business.” “Anything to do with my father is my business.” “So, why‟d you barge into the bedroom without knocking, when you knew your father would be inside with his lover?” If he was honest with himself, D.J. knew the answer before he even asked Emily the question, but that hadn‟t stopped him from asking.

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“I don‟t know,” she stammered. He glared at her. “You‟re a fucking liar.” The look he got in return wasn‟t friendly. “And you‟re a bastard who took advantage of my confused father.” “And you‟re a voyeur who hoped to catch your father having sex.” “I just wanted to know who he was dating—” “Because he wouldn‟t tell you,” D.J. finished for her. Emily slumped against the counter, refusing to meet his eyes. “Yes. I asked, but he told me I needed to stay out of his private life.” D.J. growled so loudly that she jumped. “So, instead of doing what your father asked, you came into the house, the bedroom, and caught us naked.” “I don‟t care what my father says. I don‟t believe he‟s gay.” Tears trickled down her face. “He‟s not.” D.J.‟s patience had reached its limit. What harm would it do to tell her the truth? None, he hoped, since he didn‟t handle histrionics well. “He‟s told you the truth. You should listen. He has no reason to lie.” “If I hadn‟t brought him here, you wouldn‟t have had the chance to corrupt him.” “I hate to break it to you, but I didn‟t meet your father here in the shop,” D.J. responded. “I met him in a gay bar in Denver. Trust me; he‟s definitely gay. You should ask him about Jack.”

*** D.J. hadn‟t eaten or slept in hours. Sunday morning he‟d climbed out of bed before the sun rose and cleaned nearly every surface inside the house. When he finished indoors, he‟d moved to the yard and mowed the lawn and used the weed trimmer to destroy each offending weed and piece of tall grass he found in both the front and backyards. With sweat dripping off his forehead and his shirt plastered to his back, D.J. pushed the mower back into the shed. After grabbing an almost clean rag from the workbench, he wiped his forehead, then slammed the door and headed for the garage. When he reached the entrance, he pushed the door up, looked into the dark interior, and noticed for the first time the overflowing dirty cardboard boxes his stepfather had shoved under the battered old workbench. He spent hours sorting through box after box of tools, nails, screws, and halffinished projects, putting the items he was saving on the bench top and the junk he was discarding in boxes to take to the city dump. After hauling the trash to the curbside, D.J. worked mindlessly, polishing the chrome and cleaning the leather on his black Harley. By five in the evening, exhaustion made D.J.‟s knees wobble, and he could barely put one foot in front of the other as he trudged back into the house. Once inside, he staggered to the kitchen sink, turned on the cold-water faucet, and stuck

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his head under the running water, allowing it to flow down his neck and soak his already damp shirt. “I‟m such a moron,” D.J. grumbled as he turned off the water and wiped the water off his forehead. “What am I going to tell Ian when he gets home?” Groaning, he grabbed a towel off the kitchen counter, wiped his face, and stood, slinging water up onto the window above the sink and the floor. Ignoring his mess, D.J. headed for the pot of stale, overwarmed coffee and twisted his ankle as he slipped on the damp tile floor. “Son of a bitch.” D.J. leaned down and used the towel to wipe up the water before he slipped again. “What else can go wrong?” he muttered. He jerked his eyes heavenward. “Ignore that last remark. Just forget it. I didn‟t mean it.” After a last swipe at the floor, D.J. threw the towel onto the table. He looked longingly at the coffeepot, then turned away to hobble up the stairs to his bedroom. After toeing off his tennis shoes, he stripped off his dirty socks, ripped his damp shirt over his head, and shoved his jeans to the floor. Leaving his clothes in a pile at the foot of the bed, he twisted from side to side, trying to relax the tight muscles across his shoulders. “I‟m not used to this type of physical labor.” He stopped at the dresser mirror and stared, shocked at the dark-circled eyes in a pale face that peered back at him. He rubbed his face and leaned closer, grimacing when he realized the sunken eyes and pallor weren‟t his imagination. “I‟m miserable, and it‟s my own fault.” Shaking his head, D.J. turned away from his offending reflection and its painful, unwelcome truths and headed for the bathroom to take a shower. Win‟s absence was like a raw, festering wound, which explained why he‟d tried to work himself into the ground all day. Stumbling through the bathroom door, he could almost hear Win‟s voice telling him what an idiot he was for sending him away. You deserve to be miserable, you dumb-ass, because this mess is your fault. You couldn’t leave well enough alone and let me deal with Emily in my own way. Oh no, not you. No, you had to be noble and self-sacrificing. “I wasn‟t being noble,” D.J. mumbled. He turned on both faucets, flipped the shower lever, and adjusted the temperature before he stepped inside. I have to disagree, Win said in a sarcastic tone that set his teeth on edge. Otherwise you wouldn’t be exhausted from working all day, or standing here alone. “At least you got that part right,” D.J. muttered. Don’t be an asshole. I’ve got the whole thing right. I know my daughter. She might have been upset at finding us together, but she loves me and would have come around in time. “She‟s homophobic, and I was afraid to take the chance. I didn‟t want you to hate me.”

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After grabbing a washcloth and a bottle of sandalwood-scented body soap, D.J. lathered up and proceeded to scrub his filthy skin raw as Win continued to drone on inside his head. I could never hate you, you crazy man. I love you, or did you forget that along with your common sense? By the time he‟d showered, dressed, and made his way down to the kitchen to start dinner, the voice rambling through his head had convinced him that yes, he was out of his mind for sending his lover away. D.J. pushed away from the sink and glanced up at the clock—two minutes till six. Trying to forget that his brother would be arriving at any second, he opened the refrigerator and pulled out lettuce, tomatoes, Colby-jack cheese, roast turkey, and mayonnaise. He was removing a loaf of twelve-grain bread from the pantry when Ian burst through the door from the garage. “What‟s for dinner?” Ian dropped his backpack. “I‟m starving.” “Why am I not surprised?” Ian moved closer, grabbed a slice of cheese, and shoved half in his mouth. “Where‟s Win?” He looked around the room as he chewed. “I thought he‟d be here for dinner tonight.” D.J. grabbed a towel and dried his hands as the moment he‟d dreaded reared up and slapped him in the face. “I‟m afraid he won‟t be coming.” “Did he have an emergency with one of his patients? Did he have to go to the hospital?” The remaining half slice of cheese went into Ian‟s mouth. As he stared down at his brother, D.J.‟s stomach churned and cramped. “No, what I meant was he isn‟t coming at all.” “Why?” Ian stammered. “He‟s not sick, is he?” “No, it‟s nothing like that,” D.J. hastened to explain as Ian started to wheeze. “Look, it‟s like this. Win‟s daughter found out about her father and me, and she freaked out. She doesn‟t like gays—” “So, she doesn‟t like you.” Ian wheezed even louder and coughed twice—a tight, deep, barking sound that made D.J. feel uneasy. “Why does she hate you?” D.J. winced at the word hate, knowing from the expression on Emily‟s face that it was true. “It‟s the whole gay thing—a man liking a man instead of a woman— that has her upset.” “But what about Win? He‟s into guys. You.” “Yeah, he is, but she didn‟t know about her dad liking men. He hadn‟t told her yet.” Ian barked again. “Why… Why didn‟t he tell her?” There wasn‟t any reason to talk or think about Emily and her little tirade. D.J.‟s concern was his red-faced brother, who was wheezing loud enough for the neighbors on the next block to hear him. He grabbed the backpack off the floor and

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slung it onto the table. “Where is it? Where‟s your inhaler?” He kept digging while he waited for Ian‟s answer. “Is it in here?” “In the front…front…pocket. Under the…under the…” “Try to relax and let me find your inhaler.” D.J. kept looking. “It‟s under”—Ian gasped for air—“under the…red…T-shirt.” Just as Ian said shirt, D.J. found the inhaler buried under the T-shirt, two pair of dirty socks and an empty granola bar wrapper. He pulled it out, shook it, and shoved it into Ian‟s hand. “Take a puff. Hurry!” He watched as Ian stuck the mouthpiece between his lips, pushed to release the medication, and inhaled. His shoulders drooped at the same time he coughed, the sound high-pitched and tight. “I think it‟s… It‟s empty.” D.J. jerked the inhaler out of Ian‟s hand and shook it again. Shit. “Ian, why didn‟t you tell me? I could have reordered it.” “I‟m sorry. I…I forgot.” His lower lip quivered. “I‟m scared, D.J. I can‟t… I can‟t breathe very good.” D.J. wrapped his arm around Ian‟s thin shoulders and pulled him close. “I know, buddy.” He guided Ian around the island, toward the garage door. “We‟re going to the hospital. You just need to hang in there for a little while longer.”

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Chapter Sixteen The hours since Win had stormed out of D.J.‟s house had been spent sitting in his den, staring out the window, stewing over what had happened and why. He couldn‟t eat and couldn‟t sleep, wondering why the love he‟d always wanted was slipping from his grasp, no matter how hard he tried to hang on. Win hit the leather chair arm with a thud. “Damn! Damn! Damn!” The fact he‟d hit D.J. out of anger was disturbing in itself. It didn‟t, however, stop the idea of hitting the irritating man on his hard head, with a well-seasoned two-by-four, from creeping into his mind. His lover needed his “I know better than you” attitude taken down a notch or two. “Fuck it.” Win jumped to his feet and stormed down the hall, up the stairs, and through his bedroom door. He stopped at the end of the bed and looked at the disheveled bedding hanging off the side and the pillows still showing the hollows where he‟d tried unsuccessfully to punch them into submission. “I can‟t stay here. I‟ll go crazy if I try to sleep in this house another night.” He took out a small black carry-on from the rear of the closet. Then he reached for the wire overhead shelf and pulled down a pair of jeans, two T-shirts, and a lightweight cabled sweater in case it got cool once the sun went down. Next, Win grabbed his tennis shoes and a brown leather belt and then carried everything to the bed. Lastly he yanked open the bottom chest drawer and pulled out sweatpants, socks, and two pairs of briefs. No soon had Win opened his bag and placed the jeans inside than his cell phone rang. Looking at the cover display, he snorted in disgust when he saw the caller was Emily, who he‟d been ignoring since he arrived home the morning before. She‟d called four to five times an hour, on both the house and cell phones, and left several whining messages. None of which had cooled his anger or made him willing to listen to whatever she wanted to say. He just didn‟t care. Stabbing a button, Win ended the call and stopped it in midring. “It‟s not gonna happen, Emily,” he muttered to the empty room. “Not gonna happen.” A tight fist wrapped around Win‟s heart, causing him to almost double over in pain. “This is your fault, daughter, and if D.J. and I don‟t work out our problems, I may never forgive you.” Trying to ignore the pain threatening to swamp him, Win stomped to the bathroom, where he pulled out his already stocked shaving kit. Looking in the

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mirror, he saw dark circles under his eyes and a haunted expression staring back at him. He gripped the edge of the sink. “Congratulations, Morgan. You look like death warmed over.” After several seconds he shook his head in disgust, turned on his heel, and headed across the room. When he reached the bed, he stuffed the toiletry case inside the carry-on and then zipped it closed. Next, he grabbed his laptop and electronic reader from the small bedroom desk and put both into his padded computer case. He‟d just slung both cases over his shoulder and checked the room to make certain he hadn‟t missed anything, when the doorbell began to sound. He carried his bags down the stairs while the bell continued to ring, each additional peal making his blood boil. After dropping his bags on the floor, Win yanked open the front door. “Good evening, Wyatt. I‟m happy to see you.” He turned to his daughter. “What the hell do you want, Emily?” Win snarled. “Come to see how much more you can fuck up my life?” In the face of his anger, Emily took a step back and then another. “Dad, I‟ve been trying to talk to you for hours. Why haven‟t you answered my calls?” “Because—big surprise—I‟m pissed and not interested in talking to you.” “I told you he was angry,” Wyatt said. “You don‟t know when to keep your nose out of other people‟s business.” “Why do you keep saying that?” she asked. “Dad is my business.” Win lifted his keys, cell phone, and wallet from the dark walnut bowl resting on the hall table. “I think you should leave. I don‟t have anything to say to you.” “Why?” She glanced down at the bags. “Where are you going?” “My plans, my business, and they don‟t concern you.” “How can you say that? Your happiness means the world to me.” Win snorted. He supposed in her own way Emily did want him to be happy. Unfortunately, that happiness needed to fit into a mold of her making and not his. “Your actions say otherwise.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “Daddy, I‟m not leaving until you talk to me.” Emily‟s familiar stubborn expression made Win realize she wouldn‟t willingly leave. “Wyatt, please lock the door. If we‟re going to have this conversation, we might as well get comfortable.” Without waiting to see if they followed, Win headed for the kitchen. The couple trailed behind him, the soles of their shoes echoing off the tiles floor, and took seats at the kitchen table. Once they were seated, Win spun a chair around and straddled it. He looked at Emily for so long she started to squirm. “What do you want to know?” “I guess, why you didn‟t tell me you liked men?”

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“To start with, as I‟ve said until I‟m blue in the face, my personal life and who I have sex with isn‟t your business. After I divorced your mother, I dated one man briefly, and I emphasize the word dated, and until I met D.J. it didn‟t matter that I liked men better than women. There wasn‟t any reason to mention it.” “What about Mom? Did she know you liked men when you were dating?” Win shivered at the thought. “Oh, Emily. Your mother and I never dated.” “Excuse me? Of course you did.” “No, we didn‟t.” “I‟m confused.” Wyatt admitted. “If you didn‟t date, how did you get together?” Here it came. The chance to explain what he‟d been wanting to for years. “Do you want the easy, sugar-coated version or the ugly truth?” Emily flinched, color leaching from her already pale complexion. “I want the truth,” she answered more firmly than she looked. Her voice might have sounded fine, but her pupils had dilated until they looked like saucers. As Win stared at his daughter, a wave of calm swept over him. It might be painful, but she deserved to hear the truth. “Before I start, you have to know that everything I say will make your mother sound cold and calculating.” “Mom‟s attitude and personality aren‟t a secret.” Win winced. “I‟d finished my midterm exams and was leaving on a springbreak trip with a few friends the next afternoon. Anyway, there was a huge party at one of the frat houses before everyone left campus, and I‟d had too much to drink—” “Which explains why you always ride my ass about not drinking.” “Can you please not interrupt so I can tell this story?” When Emily didn‟t respond, Win continued, “The next morning I woke up with a queasy stomach and a pounding head in a strange bed with an unfamiliar young woman lying next to me.” “Mom.” “Yes, your mother. Emily, I didn‟t know your mother, hadn‟t even talked to her. We didn‟t have classes together and didn‟t run in the same crowds. We were strangers.” “Oh, Dad.” “I‟d seen her occasionally as I crossed campus, but I didn‟t know her name.” “Oh, Dad.” “Stop saying that,” he snapped. “A week before our college graduation ceremony, your mother showed up at my apartment claiming she was pregnant with my child and demanding we get married. I didn‟t want to believe her; I had plans for my life that didn‟t include becoming a father.” He held up his hand when she started to speak. “Don‟t ever doubt that I love you, Emily, but your mother getting pregnant changed everything for me. “I told my parents immediately and, despite their misgivings about your mother and her pregnancy, they agreed to the wedding. What I didn‟t know until

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several weeks after the wedding was that your mother had set me up. She had planned to get pregnant and picked me to be the lucky sperm donor.” Wyatt squeezed Emily‟s hand. “That doesn‟t even make sense. Janet doesn‟t like kids.” “It does when you learn that with a husband and a child on the way, she didn‟t have to wait until her twenty-fifth birthday to take control of the millions sitting in her trust fund.” Emily jumped to her feet, her eyes wide. “That underhanded, conniving bitch.” “Sit down, young lady.” “How can you be so calm?” Emily asked as she slid back into her chair. “How can you not hate her for messing up your life?” “I did for a long time after I learned the truth, but I had you to raise and medical school and then a residency program to get through. I didn‟t have the time or energy to spare.” Her next question shocked Win. “Tell me about Jack.” He stared at her for several seconds. “Excuse me? Where did you hear that name?” She refused to meet her father‟s eyes. “After our fight, I was angry and wanted answers you refused to give me. It might not have been the smartest thing I‟ve ever done, but I went to the photography studio to confront that man—the photographer.” Win hit the table with a bang. “How dare you! You had no right. What did he say?” “He said I should ask you. I‟m asking you, Dad. Who is Jack?” “He was my best friend and lover, and we shared a little apartment all through college. We were in love and planned a future together.” Wyatt and Emily were speaking so fast they were talking over top of each other, making them difficult to understand. “Shit,” Wyatt gasped. “Fucking shit!” “Oh, Daddy. How terrible. I can hardly believe it. What happened to Jack? Did you keep in contact after the wedding?” “I didn‟t get the chance. Jack was a man who felt things deeply. I could lie, but I don‟t think that‟s good so I guess the truth wins out, and the truth is that Jack didn‟t want to live without me. He committed suicide the day I married your mother.” “Oh, Dad!” Emily walked around the table and threw her arms around Win‟s shoulders. “I‟m sorry. He‟s dead because I exist. Because of me.” Win patted her hand and tried to smile through the old pain. “It‟s not your fault, Emily, but you have to know, I love D.J., and I won‟t give him up, not even for you.”

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“Dad…” Before she could finish, Win‟s cell phone began to play the theme from M*A*S*H. “It‟s the hospital. I have to take this.” Win listened to the person on the other end for several minutes, gave orders for medication, respiratory treatments, and X-rays and then ended the call. He rose to his feet and pulled his keyring from his pocket. “I need to leave. D.J.‟s little brother, Ian, is one of my patients, and he‟s in the emergency room having a severe asthma attack.” “Dad, please let Wyatt and me drive you to the hospital.” Emily walked around the table and laid a hand on his arm. “Please. Let us do this for you.” Even though Win knew he was too upset to drive safely, he thought about Emily‟s offer for several seconds before making a decision. “Okay,” he finally agreed. “Let go.”

*** When an X-ray tech rolled Ian back into the room, D.J.‟s shoulders relaxed on seeing his brother‟s color had improved and his breathing had eased since they‟d wheeled him to radiology. “How are you doing, buddy?” A small smile brightened Ian‟s face. “Better.” He rubbed his chest. “It doesn‟t hurt so much to breathe, and I‟ve stopped coughing. That‟s good, right?” “Yeah, I noticed, and it‟s great that you‟ve stopped coughing.” D.J. grinned back at him. “You don‟t sound like a croaking frog any longer either.” “I didn‟t sound like a frog.” “What about a strangled chicken?” “No.” “Maybe it was a honking goose?” “No.” “A barking dog?” “D.J., you‟re just being silly.” Ian laughed. It was good to see his brother smile and laugh since only an hour before he‟d been scared and pale. The trip to the hospital had been an agonizing experience D.J. never wanted to repeat. If he was honest, watching Ian‟s fingers and lips turn blue while he gasped for air was the most frightening event of his life. D.J. also felt guilty. Ian was only thirteen, not a responsible age under any circumstances. As the adult, he should have asked if the inhaler needed to be refilled rather than relying on his brother remembering to tell him. That particular mistake wouldn‟t happen again. Ever. After climbing to his feet, D.J. walked the short distance to the bed. He reached out and ruffled Ian‟s hair. “What I am is relieved you‟re all right. Kiddo, you scared the crap out of me.”

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“It scared me too, and I promise to never, never, never let my inhaler run out again,” Ian said as he crossed his heart and held up two fingers. “I‟ll tell you before it‟s empty so you can call the pharmacy.” He stroked his brother‟s hair. “You‟d better, if you know what‟s good for you, you little twerp.” “I‟m not a twerp.” “Are too.” “Are not.” “Are too!” In seconds, the smiling and happy expression on Ian‟s face changed to teary, sad, and solemn. “I wish Win was here with us, D.J.” He sighed. “That makes two of us, buddy. You don‟t know how I wish it was true.” “Can I ask you a question?” Ian nervously plucked at the thin white blanket covering his legs. “You don‟t have to answer if you don‟t want to.” D.J. pulled the small, uncomfortable gray plastic chair closer to the bed. “Of course you can. You can ask me anything you want.” “Why doesn‟t Win‟s daughter want her dad to be happy? Doesn‟t she love him?” He picked up the glass of water sitting on the table and passed it to his brother. “I‟m sure she does, but I think she‟s just a little confused right now.” “She doesn‟t sound nice. Why can‟t she leave him alone so he can be happy?” “I wish I knew.” Such a surprisingly thoughtful question from a kid his brother‟s age. “Emily is angry and upset; she‟s scared of something she doesn‟t understand and lashing out.” D.J. squeezed Ian‟s hand. “There are many people all over the world who think loving a person of the same sex is wrong or even sinful. They don‟t understand that love is a special gift everyone should cherish if they‟re lucky enough to find it.” Ian looked at him with hope in his eyes. “And you found it with Win.” “Yeah, I did.” “Do you think you and Win will get back together? That he‟ll be part of our family?” The question had been on D.J.‟s mind a lot the last couple of days, and he just didn‟t know the answer, and waiting for Win to decide had him on edge. D.J. pulled his chair even closer, until he and Ian were sitting side by side. “I wish I could say yes, but I can‟t. I don‟t know.” There was a light rap on the door frame. D.J. stood when he saw Dr. Greenway, the emergency-room doctor treating Ian, in the doorway. “Doctor, how did Ian‟s chest X-ray look? Any problems?” “There‟s no sign of scarring or infection that I can see.” The doctor walked to Ian‟s bedside and pulled out his stethoscope. He listened to Ian‟s chest, moving the

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bell from one quadrant to another, then draped the stethoscope around his neck. “His airways are still a bit constricted, but he‟s breathing so much easier, I don‟t see any reason to admit him to the hospital.” “That‟s great news.” He glanced at Ian for a few seconds, then back to the doctor. “This panicked trip might have not have happened if I‟d known Ian‟s inhaler was empty, so in the future we‟re going to work together. He‟s promised to let me know when it needs refilling and I‟ll be checking periodically as well.” “That sounds like an excellent plan.” Dr. Greenway squeezed Ian‟s shoulder. “That‟s good. You‟re old enough to take more responsibility with your asthma medication, young man. It might be hard to believe, but your brother can‟t read your mind. No matter how much he‟d like you to think he can.” “Are you sure?” Ian asked with a grin. “He always seems to know when I‟m doing something I‟m not supposed to. It‟s like he has eyes in the back of his head.” The doctor grinned back. “That‟s because not so many years ago, he was your age and, if I had to guess, got into a fair amount of trouble himself.” “Did you, D.J.? Did you get into trouble too?” “Of course I did. That‟s why I always know when you‟re up to no good.” D.J. laughed at the openmouthed, dead-guppy expression on Ian‟s face. “I was in so much trouble, it‟s surprising my mother and father survived my teenage years with all their hair.” “D.J.!” “Both sets of our parents even agreed Ellis and I couldn‟t play together for a few months. So, fair warning, I suggest you and Zack stay out of trouble.” “Okay.” Ian coughed and looked up at the doctor. “When can I go home?” “Soon. I‟d feel more comfortable if you had another respiratory treatment first. The respiratory therapist is also going to bring down a nebulizer and show you and your brother how to use it.” He turned his attention to D.J. “They‟re easy to use and clean, and having one at home should prevent most asthma-induced trips to the hospital in the future.” D.J. extended his hand. “Thanks, Dr. Greenway. You and the staff have been great.” “You‟re welcome. I‟m sending you home with prescriptions for his inhaler and the medication needed for his nebulizer. I wanted to let you know I called Dr. Morgan about Ian‟s condition, and you‟ll need to call the office and schedule a follow-up appointment in the next few days. Good luck.” Immediately after Dr. Greenway left, a short redheaded woman carrying a toaster-sized cardboard box entered. Over the next several minutes, Ian got his last treatment, and D.J. listened as the perky respiratory therapist explained how to place the medication in the nebulizer unit and clean the machine after each use. Before the therapist left, D.J. signed a stack of forms that allowed the hospital to file a claim with the insurance company for the machine. “How much longer before we can go home?” Ian yawned. “I‟m sleepy.”

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D.J. looked at his watch. “I imagine it should be soon. You‟ve had your final treatment, your prescription, and we have the machine. All we need are your prescriptions and dismissal paperwork.” “Can I call Zack after we get home and tell him what happened?” “It‟s a little late. You‟ll see him at school in the morning.” “Okay,” he agreed reluctantly. Without warning, Ian sat up in bed and tossed his pillow at his brother‟s head, surprising him so much he almost fell out of his chair. “When we get home, you need to call Win and talk to him. Make him come back. I miss him.” “I miss him too, Ian. I miss him like crazy.” “You don‟t have to miss me,” Win said from the open doorway. “Win,” Ian said. “You came. I was afraid D.J. had screwed up so bad I‟d never see you again.”

*** Win had made the trip from his house to the hospital dozens of time over the last few years, but knowing this time someone he loved was the patient waiting made the drive seem longer than normal. He couldn‟t get the picture of Ian struggling for air out of his head and had no interest in listening to Emily, who‟d insisted she and Wyatt would drive him to the hospital. As she rambled on, he half listened to her with one ear while he talked on the cell phone to the emergencyroom charge nurse, discussing Ian‟s condition after his second breathing treatment. Every time Win paused to listen, his daughter began asking questions again. “Emily!” “Woman,” Wyatt snapped. “Will you leave your father alone?” “Fine.” While Emily argued with her fiancé, Win took a quick look out the car window. “I‟ll be there shortly, so please make certain his X-ray is available when I arrive.” Wyatt signaled and turned the car onto the main drive leading to the emergency room. Win pointed at a glass door to the left of the ambulance entrance. “You can drop me off over there.” The car slowed, and Win had the door open before it had come to a stop. As Wyatt put the engine into park, Win was up, out, and standing on the concrete apron leading to the sliding electric door. He leaned down so he could see inside the car. “Thanks for the lift. We‟ll talk again later.” “Dad, wait.” “Emily, I don‟t have time. I need to get inside.” “No. Wait. How are you going to get home?” He looked across the drive to the street sign for the hospital taxicab zone. “Don‟t worry. I‟ll manage.”

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Without waiting for an answer, Win slammed the car door and bolted through the hospital entrance and up to the keypad. He punched in his access code, twitching with impatience as he waited for the wide double to swing open. Movement was everywhere as men and woman in scrubs and lab jackets hustled from one task to another. Win hadn‟t reached the desk when he saw John, the evening-shift charge nurse, approaching, carrying a navy blue chart. “How‟s my patient doing?” A broad smile spread over John‟s face. “After his third respiratory treatment, his oxygen saturation‟s in the high nineties, and he‟s breathing easier.” John handed over the chart. “He‟s a great kid.” “Yeah, he is. I just wish I knew what set him off this evening.” John shrugged. “I couldn‟t tell you, but if you‟d like, I‟ll find his nurse, and you can ask him.” “Don‟t worry about it. I‟ll check his X-rays and ask his brother what happened.” Fifteen minutes after speaking with John, Win had reviewed Ian‟s chart and spoken at length to Dr. Greenway. Despite his relief that Ian was doing so well, Win was dragging his feet on going to the room, apprehensive at the prospect of seeing his lover. He closed Ian‟s chart and pushed back his chair, when John came up behind him. “I thought you might like to see Ian‟s last peak flow.” Win took the paper. “These look almost normal.” John grinned. “He does too. He‟s also tired and eager to go home.” Win was willing to bet John was right. “I‟ll stick my head into the room for a minute.” Leaving the charge nurse, Win left the dictation area and headed for Ian‟s room. He stopped at the doorway and stared inside. When he saw D.J., Win‟s heart began to pound until it felt like it was going to burst out of his chest, leaving a gaping, bloody, painful hole. His palms were damp with sweat, and it took every ounce of his self-control to stay rooted in place. He looked at D.J. for another second, then shifted his attention to Ian. “Dr. Greenway called to tell me you were having trouble breathing.” He walked to the bedside. “What happened?” “I‟m afraid that‟s partly my fault,” D.J. said from where he sat on the opposite side of the bed. “When he got home from Zack‟s this evening, he asked where you were, and I had to tell him Emily had found out about us and freaked. That you might not be—” “I forgot to tell D.J. my inhaler was empty,” Ian interrupted before D.J. could finish. “I‟m sorry.”

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Win gritted his teeth. “Don‟t worry, Ian. Even though we talked about never letting your inhaler go empty when you started the medicine, I‟m sure you didn‟t do it on purpose.” “I promised D.J. and Dr. Greenway I‟d never let it happen again.” “Good. I‟ll hold you to that promise.” He turned to face D.J. “We need to talk.” Win grasped D.J.‟s wrist and pulled him to the far corner of the room. “You‟re right,” Win said softly. “You are partly to blame. If you hadn‟t sent me away to think, this wouldn‟t have happened.” “I was being considerate and trying to put you and your daughter before my own wants and needs,” D.J. whispered back. “I was thinking of you.” “Stop thinking of me and start thinking of us, and let me deal with my daughter.” “Well, excuse me,” D.J. grumbled back, “for trying to be thoughtful and putting your needs first.” The stress of his short separation from D.J., irritation at his daughter, and worry about Ian had Win‟s stomach rolling. “I thought you loved me and that you wanted to be together. Did you mean it, or were you stringing me along and using Emily‟s homophobia as an excuse to get rid of me?” “Have you lost your mind? How‟d you come up with the stupid notion I was trying to get rid of you?” “It just popped into my head.” “Well, it can pop right back out.” After wrapping his hand around Win‟s wrist, D.J. pulled him closer. “Ridiculous, crazy man.” Win reached down to grasp D.J.‟s free hand and intertwined their fingers. “What‟s it going to be, lover. Do I stay? I need to hear you say it.” D.J. sighed and squeezed Win‟s hand, his twinkling brown eyes giving Win hope for the first time in almost two days. “Never doubt I want you to stay, but it‟s still your decision to make. I can‟t and won‟t tell you what to do.” Win tried to pull his wrist free. “You‟re a very stubborn man. Why can‟t you just say, „Win, I want you to stay‟?” “Will saying it make you happy?” “It will.” Gripping Win‟s shoulders with both hands, D.J. leaned down to whisper in Win‟s ear, so only he could hear. “I love you, honey, and want you to stay.” Win began to grin, the wide, jaw-popping smile of a man given the best of gifts, the gift of a lifetime. “Good. I‟m here and not going anywhere unless you tell me to go away, that you don‟t want me, that you don‟t love me anymore.” “That‟s never going to happen, honey. I‟m never letting you go. You‟re stuck with me.” He turned to look at his brother. “You‟re stuck with us.”

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Win wrapped his arms around D.J.‟s waist and rested his cheek against his lover‟s broad chest. He sighed. “Never getting rid of me.” “What about Emily? What‟s she going to say about our being together?” “Let me worry about Emily. She‟ll come around in time.” “He did tell me, you know,” Emily said from the doorway. “I mean, Daddy already told me he wouldn‟t give you up. Not for any reason.” “Emily, what are you doing here? I thought you and Wyatt had gone home.” “We couldn‟t just leave you and go, Daddy.” “You made some hateful statements when you came to the studio,” D.J. reminded her. “Can you tolerate us being together—being a family, without making your father‟s life miserable?” “Why don‟t you like my brother?” Ian demanded. “Don‟t you want your dad to be happy?” He glared at Emily. “You should go away and leave them alone!” Emily stepped into the room, Wyatt at her back. “Of course I want him to be happy.” “Then don‟t be mean!” D.J. kissed Win‟s forehead. “Out of the mouth of babes. A thirteen-year-old is defending the right of two gay men in love.” “One gay, one bisexual,” Win corrected him. “Whatever, honey.” Emily moved away from Wyatt and walked the few steps to Ian‟s bedside. “You‟re Ian, right?” She extended her hand. “I‟m Emily. Can we please be friends?” Ian started to raise his hand, then pulled it back. “Only if you promise to leave Win and my brother alone.” She tried again. “I love my dad. I promise.” Emily smiled as Ian grasped her hand, then she looked over her shoulder to D.J. “I didn‟t understand before, but I do now. I cross-my-heart promise.” “I told you,” Win muttered. “She‟s smart. I knew she‟d come around.” “I‟m sorry, Daddy. I do want you to be happy. Can you forgive me?” Emily extending an olive branch to Ian and his lover caused Win‟s shoulders to sag with relief. Everything was going to be all right. Life would probably be a little rocky from time to time, as he, D.J. and Ian worked at being a family, but there wasn‟t anything they couldn‟t get through. “If you‟re serious, of course I forgive you.” “Likewise,” D.J. agreed. “But if you hurt your father again, I won‟t be so pleasant or understanding. Got it?” “I understand. Be nice to Dad, or I‟ll regret it.” “Exactly.” D.J. sighed and wrapped his arms tighter around Win‟s shoulders. Ian was so excited he almost bounced off the bed. “Kiss him, D.J. Kiss him.” Win lifted his face for a kiss. “Yeah, D.J.D. Kiss me like you mean it.”

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Epilogue Emily and Wyatt‟s wedding was a huge success, even if the day was a little draining. The members of both families and the wedding party, all forty-five of them, had met at a small popular restaurant for breakfast at seven thirty. After they had finished the last bites of eggs and drained a dozen cups of coffee, they‟d broken up into small groups. The women and girls headed off to pedicure, manicure, facial, and hairstyling appointments, and the men escaped to do whatever they wanted until it was time to dress in their tuxedos for the evening wedding. Win was feeling content and happy as he sipped a glass of champagne, his eyes roving across the dance floor before coming to rest on Emily and her smiling new husband. They looked good together, happy to be standing in each other‟s arms and oblivious to the dancing and socializing going on around them. From the heated looks passing between the newlyweds, Win was willing to bet his next paycheck that Emily and Wyatt would be sneaking out to start their honeymoon as soon as Ellis finished taking the last pictures. “What are you smiling at, honey?” D.J. stood next to him, a thirty-fivemillimeter camera on a broad black strap hanging around his neck. Win looked his lover up and down, taking in the broad shoulders, lean hips, and long legs encased in the custom tuxedo he‟d ordered for the wedding. It fit his well-toned body flawlessly, and remembering the scent and taste of the luscious skin—skin he wanted to get his tongue on—hidden underneath the prim-and-proper exterior made Win‟s mouth water. “Just happy is all, and glad the wedding is finally over.” D.J. nodded toward the newly married couple. “I‟d say you‟re not the only one to be glad it‟s over. Did you get a look at the size of Wyatt‟s—” Win clamped a hand over D.J.‟s mouth. “I don‟t want to talk about it.” “I guess I wasn‟t thinking of it from your viewpoint.” “In the future, please try to avoid lewd and graphic sexual images involving my daughter.” He shivered violently. “It gives this loving father the creeps.” “Okay, honey,” D.J. agreed. “I‟ll do my best.” Ian walked up looking like a young version of his brother in his rented tuxedo and shoes, and Win was happy to see there wasn‟t a single stray dog hair in sight. He was carrying a small plate in one hand. “This is the best cake I‟ve ever eaten.” D.J. grabbed for the plate and grinned as his brother danced out of his reach. “I would have never guessed. That‟s your third slice.”

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“Do you think we can take some home?” Win laughed and pointed to the caterer. “There‟s plenty of cake left. Go tell Mr. Carter that I said to wrap up several slices for you.” “Thanks, Win. You‟re the best.” Win and D.J. watched as Ian wove through the crowd and headed for the table holding the small plates of cake and the man behind it. Win shook his head and turned back to D.J. “You do realize that when he fills out and matures, we‟re going to be beating the young women off with sticks.” “Considering how close he is to Zack and how much time they spend together, we might be beating the boys off with sticks too.” “He‟s only thirteen—well, fourteen since his birthday last week, but you could be right.” Win took another sip of champagne. “I‟ve wondered about him and Zack for a while. They do spend all their free time together.” “I know. It first occurred to me that day in the car when he wanted us to kiss, and I‟m going to talk to him about it. I just haven‟t figured out what to say yet, but I will. I guess I keep hoping he‟ll come to me first.” “And if you find out he likes Zack as more than a friend?” “Then we have a more in-depth talk about what it means to be a gay man in today‟s world.” D.J. snapped another photo. “We‟ll be his example of a successful gay couple. He‟ll need that.” “We are successful. Business at Sharpe Photography is booming, and I haven‟t lost a single patient. I‟ve actually gotten a few more gay parents who feel more comfortable having a bisexual doctor treat their children. It never occurred to me.” “Me either.” D.J. plucked the crystal flute out of Win‟s hand. “I‟ve got my own business news to share and it‟s called Intimate Expressions of Love.” He grinned at the confused expression on Win‟s face. “I‟ve been in negotiations with Jeffrey Harmon, the young bronze artist who did the piece in our bedroom.” “You‟ve been hiding things from me.” “I didn‟t want to say anything until we‟d finalized the details. The idea is to take dozens of intimate photographs of a couple, and allow them to pick the photo to be used for the model of their bronze sculpture. I‟ll use the remaining photographs as well as others taken in their home to create a personal album of their life.” “What a wonderful idea.” Win grabbed D.J.‟s arm. “I think we should do it.” “I was hoping you would.” Movement near the door caught Win‟s attention. “Speaking of other successful couples—here comes Lyndsay and Greg—and she looks happy.” “Good, because when Emily threw the bridal bouquet straight into her arms I thought she was going to have a stroke.” “Wait. She looks happy.” Win reached for D.J.‟s hand. “Maybe she finally agreed to marry him.” “It‟s about time. Greg‟s been after her for months.”

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They stood in companionable silence, and after finishing the champagne, D.J. placed the flute on the tray of a passing waiter. He raised the camera viewfinder to his eye and twisted the lens ring to focus on Win‟s face. “Smile for the camera, honey. Say cheese.” He squeezed the shutter. Win looked to where Ellis was taking pictures across the room, then back to his lover. “Why do I suddenly get the impression you‟re not just taking photos because it‟s what you like to do? What‟s going on?” D.J. clicked off another shot. “Your ex-wife was making Ellis crazy. He needed the help, and I was afraid he might kill her if I didn‟t. Playing nice with the other guests and snapping photos keeps my mind occupied and my hands off your sweet ass.” “Get that look off your face. We‟re in public, and my parents are sitting ten feet away.” D.J. stepped closer and crowded Win against a table. “What look would that be?” “The one that says you want to drag me into an empty room and strip me naked.” “You‟d be exactly right.” He winked and leered. “Don‟t forget the part about licking every inch of your body.” “Whoa. Stop it.” Win looked around to see if anyone was close enough to overhear. “Not another word about being naked, your tongue, or licking,” he said quietly. “We‟re standing in the middle of Emily‟s wedding reception, and you‟re giving me a hard-on.” “Poor, baby. It‟s not my fault your tux makes you look so lusciously lickable.” Win‟s cheeks felt boiling hot, and because they were in public, he couldn‟t do anything to get back at his lover. He looked up into D.J.‟s smiling face, then around at the nearest tables. “Will you stop teasing me?” He nodded at his mother, who had turned in their direction. “See. Mom is looking right at us. She knows you‟re making trouble.” D.J. waved, his lips curling into a smile when she waved back. “Your parents like me. Your mother even bakes me chocolate chip cookies.” “My parents want me happy and would like anyone who isn‟t Janet.” “That was cold, honey. Sub-zero cold.” Win grasped his lover‟s hand and brought it to his lips for a quick kiss. “You know I‟m only kidding. My parents are crazy about you.” Which was true. From the second Win had introduced D.J. to his parents, D.J. had poured on the goodwill and humor, and in less than ten minutes, his normally reserved parents were treating D.J. like the returning prodigal son. His father had wanted to know D.J.‟s political opinions, and his mother had been ecstatic at the prospect of cooking for her new son. He, D.J., and Ian had even taken to eating at his parents‟ once a week.

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The older Morgans might not understand their son having a male lover, but they accepted it without question, thrilled that Win was happy and content for the first time in his life. That they got D.J. and Ian in the bargain was like chocolate icing on the best fudge cake. Win took a quick scan of the room and found Ian eating another slice of cake while listening as Ellis explained something about the new camera they‟d bought for his birthday. “I think it‟s my brother they‟re crazy about.” His partner might just be right. “Remember the first time he called Mom Grandma? I thought she was going to cry.” Win chuckled. “They‟re pretty fond of Ellis and Camille too.” D.J. looked in the direction of the newlywed couple still dancing a few feet away. “How are you going to feel when Emily and Wyatt give you your first grandchild?” Win cocked his head and stared at his daughter. “Anxious, excited, and nervous, but I‟m hopeful it won‟t happen for several years.” “I don‟t know,” D.J. purred as he leaned down to nuzzle the skin behind Win‟s left ear. “You‟re going to be one super-sexy grandpa.” “You‟re only saying that because you want in my pants.” “Honey,” he whispered in Win‟s ear, “I‟ll always want in your pants, but right now, I want a look at the new tattoo on your lovely ass.”

G. H. Worth G.H. Worth has been an avid reader since childhood, and believes there‟s no such thing as owning too many books. She‟s a non-working ER nurse who writes M/M erotic contemporary romances, and has so many characters in her head screaming for attention, it‟s a wonder she ever gets anything done. You‟ll most often find her sitting at her trusty computer, writing or working through ideas for future projects. GH currently lives in the mid-west with her husband and dog, where it gets darn cold every winter. Keep up with GH at http://ghworth.blogspot.com/