Philippa Grey-Gerou & Michael Barnette

Hearts Afire: September Philippa Grey-Gerou and Michael Barnette (c) 2009 ISBN 978-1-59578-583-1

Hearts Afire: September Philippa Grey-Gerou and Michael Barnette Published 2009 ISBN 978-1-59578-583-1 Published by Liquid Silver Books, imprint of Atlantic Bridge Publishing, 10509 Sedgegrass Dr, Indianapolis, Indiana 46235. Copyright © 2009, Philippa Grey-Gerou and Michael Barnette. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, recording or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the author. Manufactured in the United States of America Liquid Silver Books http://LSbooks.com Email: [email protected] Editor Terri Schaefer Cover Artist April Martinez This is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents and dialogues in this book are of the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is completely coincidental.

Blurbs High Heat - Philippa Grey-Gerou With a flourishing catering business and an acclaimed restaurant to his name, chef Roman Geary had finally made it. Until his dreams go up in smoke, literally, when a fire devastates his kitchen. He finds a temporary home at the catering hall of the local fire company, putting him in close quarters with the attractive firefighter Jacob Niemczyk, who proves himself as adept in the kitchen as he is at fighting fires. While Roman is skilled in the kitchen, he finds romance a bit trickier, but the two find their way into each other’s arms despite missteps and inconvenient interruptions. Their relationship looks to be off to a smoking start until a massive fire makes Roman question how willing he is to risk his heart to a man who constantly risks his life. They say that if you can’t stand the heat, you should stay out of the kitchen. But when food is your life and your heart is on the line, sometimes it’s the safest place to be. **** Five-Alarm Lover - Michael Barnette On Rowland Mining colony Moon Three Delmar ‘Del’ Preston responds to a mine fire. What he doesn’t realize is the fire will lead to the one thing he needs most in his life… love. Rowland mining executive, Aaron Halford has been called a freak—and worse—his entire life. Born with psi-talent Aaron doesn’t need any added trouble in his life. But he finds trouble in the form of a mysterious man made of flames and a hot firefighter he wants worse than he’s ever wanted anyone. The fire isn’t the only heat these two men experience. Sparks of lust ignite and burn hot for them both, but the risk of a ‘suit’ and ‘grunt’ having a relationship has consequences, consequences more dangerous than either of them realize.

High Heat Philippa Grey-Gerou Chapter One Roman Geary didn’t notice the first time the traffic light at the busy intersection of Arthur and Montgomery cycled through without ever giving him a left turn arrow. He had too much on his mind. Summer in Pennsylvania was winding down, and even though he still had the top down on his Lexus, he was already thinking about swapping out the frise salads and fresh gazpacho for something more substantial on the menu for his restaurant. Maybe a warm pear salad on romaine with walnuts and feta. The lamb stew, his bestseller last fall when he’d opened the place, was a no brainer. He also had to finalize the last preparations for the Gulbransen wedding. It was still two weeks away, but he needed to start the stocks and get the last orders handled before they had to start advance cooking next week, assuming the bride didn’t change her mind on the entrees again. Of all the catering work he did, weddings were the worst. But they paid the best, so he soldiered on. The second time the lights cycled through without letting him go, he started to notice. No one was moving, and when he leaned out, he saw all the lights were stuck on red. “Oh, come on!” He threw a hand up in disgust. A horn honked behind him, its owner equally frustrated. Roman was just about to risk a ticket and an accident, his foot already coming off the brake to run the light, when the sirens started, a low alto wail that quickly escalated to a screaming coloratura. A minute later, the first fire engine appeared up the street opposite, barreling its way towards him, its revolving lights nearly lost in the afternoon brilliance, before throwing itself into a screaming right turn at the intersection and tearing away down Montgomery, another truck and the marshal’s car following close on its bumper. Just as the cross traffic light turned green, Roman’s cell phone rang. He tapped his Bluetooth. “This is Roman.” “Roman, it’s Tobie.” His normally unflappable house manager sounded tense. “Where are you?” “I’m on my way in. I got stuck at a traffic light. Why, what’s wrong?” “Honey, the restaurant’s on fire.” The light changed and Roman peeled out in front of the oncoming traffic to slew into the turn, ignoring all speed limits as he raced in the direction the engines had gone. The scene at the restaurant was a nightmare. Firemen and hoses overran the converted Victorian that housed Geary’s. The windows had blown out and flames licked past the sills, turning the white trim a sickening black. Tables and chairs had been tossed out through the doors and windows onto the porch and lawn and the front door had been kicked in. Even the careful landscaping had been crushed beneath heavy boots and dragged hoses. Everything he had built over the last year and a half was literally going up

in smoke. There was an ambulance parked on the side street across from the chaos with a small knot of people clustered around it. Roman pulled up behind it and clambered out of the car. “I’m here,” he announced, swinging around the ambulance. “Is everyone accounted for? Who’s hurt?” The second question was redundant. Jamie, his pastry chef, was sitting in the back of the ambulance, his right arm immobilized, his normally pale face a deep scarlet, his eyebrows and the long bangs he always spiked up gone. “Hey, boss,” he said sheepishly without opening his mouth far as the EMS tech gingerly applied salve to his burns. “Jesus, Jamie. Are you okay?” “Yeah, I’m good.” He winced. Tobie got Roman’s attention, setting her hand on his shoulder. “I’m just glad this didn’t happen while you were home. If it had happened in the middle of the night while you were asleep upstairs…” He pulled her into a quick embrace. “What about the others?” Tobie shook her head. “It was just me and Jamie. I was going over the bookings while he was starting on tonight’s baking. The oven just kind of gulped twice and then exploded in back. A second later, the door of the other oven blew off and Jamie got caught in the explosion. I don’t know what the hell happened. I just got him out as quick as I could. The girls started showing up just a couple of minutes ago.” Lisa and Ami, his two servers, were standing by anxiously. “Thanks for coming, ladies, but I doubt we’re going to have service tonight. You can take off.” “No way,” Ami insisted as Lisa shook her head. “You might need us to help clean up.” Roman looked back at the disaster that had been his home and livelihood. “I don’t think cleaning up is going to cover it.” With a nod to Tobie, he headed back across the street. One of the firemen at the front walk stopped him. “I’m sorry, sir, you can’t go any closer.” “I’m Roman Geary. This is my business. How bad is it?” The man pulled his helmet off and ran his hand through shaggy, blond hair. “I’m sorry, Mr. Geary, it’s still going to be a little while before we get this fully contained.” “Contained.” Now that the initial concern for his staff had passed, panic was starting to set in. “Is that a fireman code word for ‘finished burning down’?” “I’m sorry, Mr. Geary.” Roman was surprised to see real compassion in the other man’s eyes. “We got here in time to save the house, but the addition on the back went too fast for us to save.” “The kitchen. My staff say that’s where it started.” “I’m sure the investigator will want to talk to them. I’m sorry for your loss.” “Thank you, Officer…” “Niemczyk.” He pronounced it “Nem-zik” in a way that implied it was spelled harder than it sounded. “Jacob Niemczyk. And it’s not officer, that’s for policemen. People just call me Jake.” “Well, thank you, Mr. Niemczyk. Do you know when I might be able to get in to look at the damage?” Jacob checked his watch. “I doubt it will be today. It will take a while to cool down

enough for the investigator to take a look. He can call you at home when he’s done.” “No, he really can’t.” Roman gestured to the smoking building. “Shit. I’m really sorry. Do you have a place to stay? We can work with Red Cross to get you set up if you need—” “No, I can probably crash with my front of house manager until we get things worked out with the insurance company.” He knew for a fact Tobie would kick his ass if he tried to stay anywhere else. “Okay then. I should get back. Good luck, Mr. Geary.” Roman suspected his luck had run out. **** Tobie brought Roman a mug of tea as he sat at her dining room table checking his email on her laptop. Tobie’s house was always comfortable, and her husband Ty was always glad to see him, but even so, Roman felt uncomfortable imposing on them. Hell, he didn’t even have any clothes of his own anymore. “At least the insurance will cover it,” Tobie said encouragingly, sitting down beside him. “That doesn’t get the restaurant open any faster. You remember how long it took to build that addition in the first place. If we’re open again in six months, we’ll be lucky. We’re going to miss Christmas, New Year’s, and Valentine’s. That’s half of our big take nights. Not to mention the attrition of our reputation when there’s no word of mouth.” Sighing, he shoved the laptop aside. “We’ll be starting from scratch when we do open.” “So we start from scratch. You’re young, Roman, you’ve got the time.” “I was so close, Tobie. That review in last month’s Philadelphia Magazine had started to get us some real attention.” “And you’ll get there again, sweetie. You’ve just gotta believe.” Roman didn’t want to. Right now, after all the work he’d put into building his business, he just wanted to wallow in self-pity. Tobie wasn’t one to allow that. “What about the catering business?” “Shit.” He pulled the laptop back and called up their event schedule. “We’re going to have to start making calls. If we can at least find some decent substitutes for people, maybe we can preserve at least some of our reputation.” “What about doing it ourselves?” “Tobie, we don’t have a kitchen. We can’t make a grilled cheese sandwich right now, let alone cater for a hundred or more.” She rolled her eyes. “So get a kitchen, Roman. Don’t be obtuse. The insurance covers temporary facilities while the restaurant is being rebuilt.” “It would take a month to get something like that operational. I’d have to find a space, order the equipment, get it installed and inspected—” “So do it already! What are you planning to do for the next six months, sit around and feel sorry for yourself?” Her outburst pulled him up short. “Well, no, but…” “No buts, Roman. You’re really good at seeing the glass half empty. If you’re serious about keeping this business afloat, you don’t have time for that. We can get the word out, contact all the local vendors, make the connections we need to make the catering the primary focus of the business and keep your name out there, but you have to

make the decision to do it.” She was right and he knew it. He’d been letting self-pity cloud his judgment and he told her as much. “I’ll call the realtor in the morning. And I’ll ask Jamie and Mo to stay on, but tell the girls they’re free to move on if they need to. We’ll give them good references, but maybe they’ll still do service at the events for us.” Tobie relaxed back into her chair, cradling her tea. “There. Doesn’t that feel better?” “Not really. We’re still going to take a hit on the Gulbransen wedding. The food’s already ordered and there’s no way we can be ready in two weeks.” “So we need to find another kitchen.” “Where are we going to find a restaurant-grade kitchen on that kind of short notice?” “There are kitchens all over the place standing empty more often than not. My church has almost as good a set-up as Geary’s did.” Roman shook his head. “No way the health inspector would buy that. Besides, the wedding’s on a Sunday afternoon.” “Well, what about a fire hall? Those are inspected and approved.” “They’re not going to loan out their facilities to a private business.” “Roman, you’re throwing up roadblocks again. You don’t know what they will or won’t do until you ask. Besides,” she took a sip of her tea, looking innocent, “it would give you another chance to talk to that cute fireman who was flirting with you.” “What? What fireman?” “The blond one I saw you talking to.” “He wasn’t flirting with me, Tobie. He was just telling me the status of the fire.” She sighed. “Roman, you are a handsome, intelligent man and a talented chef, but your social skills are laughable. That boy was hitting on you.” “He wasn’t.” “No? Prove it. Go talk to him about renting their kitchen.” “Fine, I will. But you’ll see. You’re imagining things.” “Oh, I’m imagining things alright.” Her leer was positively wicked.

Chapter Two Bald Hill Fire Company served all of Morgan Township and a fair portion of the borough of Llannerch, where until three days ago Geary’s had stood. As such, they had a big facility built into the side of what was presumably Bald Hill, with five truck bays and all the related facilities. Roman felt a bit overwhelmed pulling up into the designated parking spaces in front of the office. “This is never going to work,” he swore to the absent Tobie as he climbed out of the car. The office had a quiet, almost lazy feel to it, the only sound in the room the hum of the fluorescent tubes overhead, painfully bright even in the brilliant afternoon sunlight. The office itself consisted of two desks and a long counter, with a smaller room behind. From the door propped open at the other end, Roman could hear voices and rough laughter echoing through the garage. There was only one guy on duty in the office, and he seemed more interested in what was going on on his computer than in Roman. “Excuse me,” Roman called across the counter finally. The man didn’t look up. “Yeah?” “I’d like to speak to whoever’s in charge of your catering hall.” “Chief!” he called back over his shoulder, still not looking away from the monitor. “Someone to see you.” An older man appeared in the door from the inner office, tall and imposing despite being dressed casually in jeans and a polo. Before acknowledging Roman, he went over to the other man and cuffed him on the back of the head. “Reilly, what have I said about playing solitaire on duty?” “Not to limit my options?” “I’ll limit your options. Work first, or you’ll be desk bound another week.” Reilly winced. “Yes, sir.” “Now.” The chief finally turned to Roman. “I’m Chief Brabanek. How can I help you?” “Roman Geary.” He shook the hand Brabanek offered. “I wanted to find out about renting your hall.” “I’m sure we can help you with that, Mr. Geary. What date were you looking at?” “The next two to three weeks.” “Any particular day?” “No, you don’t understand. I need it, or I need the kitchen at least, for all of the next two to three weeks.” Brabanek still looked confused. “I’m a chef, but my kitchen burned down the day before yesterday. Unfortunately, I have several catering obligations I need to fulfill in order to stay solvent. To that end, I’m hoping to rent your facilities.” “How much time are we talking here?” The chief sounded doubtful. No point lying about it. “At least four hours a day for the next week and then eight hours or more leading up to the event. Plus full possession of the walk-in and storage.

Basically, we’d need it full time.” Each step of the evaluation of the implications of Roman’s demands showed on Brabanek’s face until finally he said, “I don’t think we’re going to be able to accommodate you, Mr. Geary. I’m sorry.” “You might want to think about that, Chief.” They both turned to the newcomer, who Roman recognized as the firefighter he’d spoken to the other day. Niemczyk. Jacob. He was smiling, blond hair falling just above his eyes, which were watching Roman even as he spoke to Brabanek. “Mr. Geary here is one of the hottest rising chefs in the region. It might be good for our reputation if it were known he was using our kitchen for fancy catering.” “You seem to have a fan, Mr. Geary. Have you met my deputy chief?” “I did, at the restaurant the other day.” He offered his hand to Niemcyzk. “Nice to meet you again.” “Under better circumstances.” “You have a good point, Niemczyk,” Brabanek continued the conversation, “but it just won’t work. We’ve got an anniversary party scheduled this weekend and two weddings next week. The committee will never agree—” “Come on, chief, you know the coordinators’ committee does whatever you ask. And I’m sure Mr. Geary and his staff can work around our other bookings. It’s not like they’ll be cooking from scratch. They won’t need the whole kitchen.” Brabanek still looked doubtful. “I don’t know…” Jacob caught Roman’s arm and led him towards the back door. “Come on, let me show you the facilities. Maybe you’ll decide we’re too primitive for your needs and save the chief a tough decision.” They were through the door and into the garage before either Roman or Brabanek could protest. “Don’t mind him,” Jacob insisted, leading Roman past the ends of the fire trucks to a utilitarian staircase climbing one wall. “He always puts up a tough guy front. If you want it, I can talk him around, and he can talk the committee around.” “Committee?” “Holdover from when we were a volunteer company. The fire hall and the committee running it.” The stairs were steep and endless, rising the equivalent of two stories, but Jacob didn’t even seem winded. “As the city started creeping up into the suburbs, there were a lot more demands put on the company, too many different kinds of structures and environments, too many structures altogether. The township commissioners decided to make us and Llannerch West both professional companies, but because of the relationship we had with the existing community, they agreed to leave the old fire hall system in place. We just got a much nicer hall is all.” He shoved open the door at the top of the stairs. “Take a look for yourself.” The room was huge, with a full stage on one end and a bar most nightclubs would envy on the other. The floors and all the trim were beautiful dark oak, but there were so many windows, it kept the place from feeling like a cave. They could probably serve two hundred and fifty people without worrying about dance space. “Don’t worry,” Jacob went on, “you won’t have to carry all your supplies up those stairs. There’s a drive to the upper parking lot out back. Come on. The kitchen’s this way.”

The kitchen was more than adequate, with two large eight-burner stoves and corresponding ovens, as well as two long counters in addition to the servers’ station. “Whoever designed this had delusions of grandeur,” Roman said, checking the cabinets. Minimal pots and pans, bare bones tools. That could all be picked up easily enough at a restaurant supply store. Jacob shrugged. “Blame the donor. They gave us a ton of money earmarked for the hall. It’s more than we ever use, but it made them happy.” “Sad what some people consider a legacy.” “They turned around and gave us two hundred and fifty grand towards a new ladder truck. We aren’t complaining.” “Well, I won’t, either. This kitchen is fabulous. How’s the walk-in?” Jacob levered open a heavy wood-paneled door to reveal a refrigerator as large as some small bedrooms, lined in wire racks with another row down the middle, one small corner framed out into what was presumably the freezer. The power consumption had to be unreal, but Roman resisted saying anything. “There’s a pantry the same size on the other side of the stoves,” Jacob added. “Well, I certainly can’t complain about the storage space.” Roman stepped back out and Jacob shut the walk-in door behind him. “If you think you can convince Chief Brabanek, we would definitely be able to work here.” Folding his arms over his chest, Jacob nodded. “I’m pretty sure I can talk him into it.” Jacob’s posture drew Roman’s attention to his strong arms and the definition of his chest under his close-fitting t-shirt. “My house manager thinks you were flirting with me the other day,” he said without thinking. One pale eyebrow went up. “I told her she was crazy.” “What if I was?” That wasn’t a response he’d expected. “If you were, then I’d have to wonder if you were helping me out with this just to get a chance to do it again.” “And?” “And I’d have to say no.” “No to the kitchen? Or no to me?” “One’s the same as the other, isn’t it?” “Boy, you don’t think much of people, do you?” Roman instantly felt guilty. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean—” Jacob waved him off. “Yes, you did. But don’t worry about it. I’m not going to screw your business just because you aren’t interested in me.” He headed back out into the hall. Roman knew he should stop Jacob, apologize somehow. Instead, he stood there stupidly, unsure exactly where he’d stepped wrong. He got the contract, but he didn’t feel good about it. Jacob was nowhere to be found when Roman went back down to the office, but Chief Brabanek had obviously been convinced, despite his slightly bemused expression. The contract followed the company’s standard terms, carving out the time for other events and giving Roman a small discount in exchange. Once it was signed, Brabanek offered his hand. “Good luck to you, son.” Knowing what Tobie’s reaction was going to be, Roman suspected he’d need it.

**** “You are such a jackass.” Tobie was pulling a casserole out of the oven, the air redolent with cheese and chicken and onions and just a trace of mustard. “I know.” He slouched pathetically at the table, ignoring a mug of coffee turning cold at his elbow. Setting the baking dish down on the stove top, she pulled off her hot mitts. “That boy was doing you a favor, and you threw it up in his face.” “I know.” “Just because he’s interested in you is no reason for you to treat him like he’s beneath you.” “I know, Tobie! Jesus, don’t you think I feel bad enough about this?” “Do you?” She sat down across from him. “The minute the words came out of my mouth, I knew I’d screwed up. I just couldn’t figure out how to take it back.” “So how are you going to make it up to him?” He slumped again. “I don’t know.” “Well, you’d better figure something out, sweetie, or you’re going to be in for an uncomfortable few weeks.” She stood up again to begin pulling plates down from the cupboard. “I suggest pie. The way to a man’s heart and all that.” “Most men aren’t that easy.” She raised an eyebrow. “Who knows more about men, you or me?” The sad thing was, she had a point. **** He thought about her advice all the next day as he and Jamie, arm still in a sling and face looking like he’d fallen asleep in the sun, shopped for pots and pans, knives and serving pieces, all the paraphernalia they needed to set up shop in their new, temporary home. The bittersweet experience of purchasing all the tools of his trade, albeit on the insurance company’s dime, only served to emphasize his sense of failure. His eyes scanned the open bays of the fire house as he steered the black minivan they used as a catering truck up the steep drive to the upper parking lot. If Jacob was there, Roman didn’t see his fair head anywhere. Jamie grabbed two bags out of the back with his good arm and stood by while Roman loaded up with pots filled with more bags. “We’ll have to set up with a pretty small footprint,” Roman explained as they headed in. “We’re going to have to be able to get out of the way of the other caterers who come in.” “As long as they don’t steal our food out of the cooler and try to pass it off as theirs, we’ll be fine.” Roman shook his head at Jamie’s humor, appreciating the loyalty behind it nonetheless. It took them three trips to bring everything in, hampered as they were by Jamie’s arm. Mo would be in as soon as her husband got off work to take over with the kids, but in the meantime they would just have to make do. While Jamie set up workstations and unpacked the bulk spices they’d use to

supplement the fresh herbs they got in, Roman began filling the sinks, one with hot soapy water and the other equally hot with bleach. He unpacked and unwrapped each new pan, carefully washed and rinsed them, then set them aside to dry in advance of curing. He was almost grateful for the catering time before the restaurant reopened. It would give the new pans a chance to build up the patina of the old ones. Food cooked in raw pans, no matter how good, still had a subtle bitterness to them that a well-used pan didn’t. A little oil and high heat would take the edge off, but only time and use would finish the job right. They were both startled when an alarm sounded—two high, short tones followed by a low, longer one that repeated. It stopped after five rounds even as the floor beneath them quivered as the big doors rolled up. A moment later, a heavy diesel engine roared to life, quickly counter-pointed by the sirens warming up as a single truck surged across the tarmac and out onto the road. Roman watched it from the long window above the sinks, but in their gear, one firefighter looked like another, making it impossible to tell if Jacob was with them. Jamie looked at him uneasily. “Think we’ll have a lot of that?” “It’s a fire station.” Roman shrugged and went back to washing. “I doubt fires will take a holiday just because we’re here.” “It’s a bit unnerving, though.” Roman agreed. **** Even as busy as they were restarting the business, the sense of shame lingered in the back of Roman’s mind. He never seemed to manage to run into Jacob accidentally, and he didn’t want to be too obvious about tracking him down for fear of endangering Jacob’s reputation with the company. But Tobie’s advice came back to him. Maybe acting on it would give him an in. By the third day, they were in full swing, Jamie and Mo rendering soup bones and working up puff pastry as Tobie sat on the sidelines, calling every fire hall, church, mansion, and winery in the area that might possibly need catering in the next six months. None of them noticed Roman’s little side project until he was shaping bread dough into loaves. Jamie nodded at it, his hands full of butter and flour. “That for the new menu?” “More of a peace offering.” Still on the phone, Tobie looked from the bread to Roman and then back again meaningfully. Oblivious to the exchange, Jamie said, “I was wondering what the roasts were for.” The “roasts” were beef, pork, and lamb that Roman had slowly roasted before setting them to simmer in a thick broth of tomatoes, beef stock, onion, garlic, and spices. He debated throwing potatoes and corn in, but decided the bread was starch enough. When it was ready, he and Mo carried it, the bread, bowls of grated cheese, and raw chopped onion down the precipitous stairs to the front office. Another firefighter was on duty, this one female and much more gracious than Reilly had been when she looked up and smiled at him. “We thought you folks might like to eat someone else’s cooking for a change,” he explained as a greeting, holding up the pot.

Inhaling, her eyes grew wide. “Oh, that smells amazing!” Jumping up, she pushed open the gate in the counter. “Come on back. I think Chris was just getting ready to cook. I’m Annie, by the way. Annie Reeves.” They went through a small rec room, mostly containing couches and a large TV, and towards one of two doors on the opposite side. “Chris!” she called before she even went through the door. “Turn off the stove, dinner’s here.” “Oh, thank God,” a smoky male voice welcomed them into the kitchen. Chris was a lanky young man, maybe in his early twenties, who looked about as at home in the kitchen as Roman would on the back of a fire truck. “Don’t thank him yet, kiddo. This just pushes your turn off until tomorrow.” “Aw, come on, Annie, you know I can’t cook.” “Just the same, you’ve got to take your turn like the rest of us.” “We might be able to help,” Roman suggested, setting the heavy stock pot on the stove to re-warm. “I’d be happy to loan you one of my sous chefs for a few lessons, if you’d like.” Chris’ nose wrinkled. “I can’t cook any of that fancy stuff.” “Jamie knows more ways to grill meat than you could eat in a month. I’ll send him down to talk to you.” The young fireman looked mollified. “Well, thank you. That’s real nice of you.” Others were starting to flock into the room, sniffing and poking through the box Mo had deposited on the long table that ran down the middle of the room. “You order takeout again, Chris?” one of them teased. “Yeah, that doesn’t smell like anything you could make.” “We’ve got manna from heaven tonight, boys,” Annie chimed in, saving Chris any further embarrassment. “Or at least from the chefs upstairs. What have you folks got for us?” “It’s nothing fancy,” Roman admitted. “This is chili stew,” he took the lid off the pot and gave it a stir, releasing the smell of it into the room, “and we brought all the fixings for it, plus two different kinds of bread, and Mo threw together her famous apple cobbler for dessert. I’m sorry we don’t have any ice cream to go with it.” To show their disapproval, all seven fire fighters pulled out chairs and sat down, already distributing the contents of Mo’s box. Mo laughed and rescued the cobbler. “You guys want bowls for that?” she teased, shoving the pan in the oven and turning it to warm. “Or do you just want to fish it out of the pot with your hands?” Sheepishly, Chris and one of the other younger men got up again to pull out bowls and utensils, setting them on the table with bottles of milk and soda. Roman took the chance to ask Annie, “Is Jacob around?” “Jake?” She shook her head, reaching for the milk. “He and the chief are down in Baltimore at a conference. I don’t think they’ll be back until this weekend sometime.” She was already digging into the stew and didn’t see Roman’s look of disappointment. “I’ll tell him you were asking about him, though.” “Oh, that’s not necessary.” He didn’t like to think how this would look if she did. Like he was trying to buy forgiveness or something, when in reality all he wanted to do was talk to the man. Mo checked the oven before nodding to Roman. At least he had a graceful exit. “You

folks enjoy,” he said in his most avuncular restaurateur voice. They all saluted him with spoons, bread and mouths full of food as he and Mo left. Tobie was watching him when they got back to the kitchen. Roman didn’t give her so much as a shrug. She seemed to know, anyway. Shaking her head, she went on to her next phone call.

Chapter Three The other task he managed to accomplish was leasing a temporary apartment. Tobie had been adamant that he was welcome as long as he wanted to stay, but Roman wasn’t used to being answerable to someone else’s rules and schedules, or even just having the constant presence of another person. When the realtor called to tell him about a shortterm rental available in one of the new condo complexes, he had jumped at it and moved in that Saturday Calling it a furnished loft was stretching things a bit. It had a couch and television, table and chairs, and a bed, but they were all stark and beige, with no character or life to them. He salvaged sheets, comforter, and pillows from his apartment, getting them professionally cleaned to remove the smoky smell from them, and made up the bed in burgundy and blue to give the place at least some color. The pots and pans were Tefloncoated aluminum, making him wince. But they’d be good enough, especially since he would do most of his cooking at the firehouse. There were some staples he did need, though, so after he got his few belongings settled in, he headed to the grocery store. He stopped at the state store first for several decent bottles of wine, white and red, as well as a good vodka for cooking and a bottle of scotch for drinking. Apparently he’d fussed over the wine longer than he’d intended, because it was already dark out by the time he loaded the bags into his trunk. Night was coming earlier and earlier now, but the thinning crowds at the grocery store told him it was past the time people were home having dinner with their families or planning their evenings out. Geary’s would have fit into those plans a week ago. Now Roman was reduced to grocery store fare and cooking for one. Crushing down a wave of panic, he grabbed a half-size shopping cart and headed into the store. Half a dozen eggs and a quart of milk went into the cart, followed by an unsliced loaf of challah and several bagels, cream cheese added as an afterthought. The coffee selection was better than he’d expected, the spice aisle worse. At least kosher salt was in vogue and easy to find. He picked out a couple of cheeses as well, a Gruyere and a locally made chevre, and was just turning toward the butcher counter when he crashed into a cart that he hadn’t noticed moving around to pass him. “Pardon me,” he apologized instantly. “I wasn’t looking—” Which was obvious. If he’d been looking, he would have noticed that his victim was Jacob Niemczyk. “Imagine meeting you here,” Jacob drawled, his expression unreadable. “Slumming?” “I needed some staples. I thought you were in Baltimore.” Jacob’s eyebrow went up. “Keeping tabs on me?” “Annie told me.” “I see. Well, for your information, I was in Baltimore, but I got back this afternoon.” He glanced at the contents of Roman’s cart. “So they’ve let you back into your apartment?” Roman shook his head. “Temporary housing. It’ll be a few weeks before the new paint and rugs are done. In the meantime, I’m in a condo over near Pennsford.”

“Nice.” Roman shrugged. It was his turn to study the contents of Jacob’s cart. To his surprise, there were very few frozen or prepared items in his selections. “You cook?” “Well, we can’t all be master chefs,” Jacob answered, equal parts amused and defensive. “But yes, I cook some. It’s my turn to feed the company Monday, so I’m making my grandmother’s pierogis and sausages and sauerkraut.” “From scratch?” “Yes, from scratch.” He sounded irritated now, making Roman realize he’d spoken without thinking again and was in danger of repeating his earlier offense. “That’s very impressive,” he hurried on, trying to correct any presumed slight. “I have a difficult time with doughs of any kind. There’s a magic to getting them just the right consistency that I’ve never been able to master. That’s why I have Jamie, my pastry chef. I’d be lost without him. I have enormous respect for anyone who can do what you do.” And now he was rambling. Brilliant, Roman. Just confirm that you’re an idiot. But Jacob seemed mollified. “Thank you.” “Well.” Unable to think of anything else to say that wouldn’t sound inane, he started to move on. “Good luck with your meal.” “You could come watch me cook, if you’d like.” Jacob’s invitation surprised him. He didn’t let himself overthink it. “Thank you, I’d like that.” Jacob’s smile made his rugged face look almost boyish. “Great. Let me just get a few last things and we can get out of here.” Roman looked sheepishly at the perishables in his cart. “Maybe we’d better not.” “Don’t worry about it.” Once decided, Jacob was hard to put off. “I’ll follow you home. You can drop off your stuff and then follow me back to the station.” “Not your place?” He was surprised to feel disappointed. Jacob grinned. “Not on a first date. Finish your shopping. I’ll meet you out front.” And he headed off towards the dairy section. Date? Was that what he’d just committed to? Was it what he wanted? Judging by the speed he went through the produce section, apparently it was. He checked out just as quickly, grabbing the bags and leaving the cart in the entry. As promised, Jacob was waiting for him, his own groceries in two green reusable bags near to overflowing. “Where are you parked?” Lifting his keychain, Roman turned off the alarm on his coupe, making the lights flash. “I could have guessed you’d drive a Lexus.” There was no malice in his teasing. Roman tried to play along. “Yeah? And I suppose that pick-up’s yours?” “Actually, no.” Jacob’s key fob triggered the lights on a late model Jeep parked one row over and four spaces further back. “That would have been my second guess.” He was embarrassed, but Jacob just laughed, a surprisingly comforting sound. “I’ll follow you,” Jacob called behind him as he headed to his car. Roman put his own groceries in his trunk along with the wine and slid into the driver’s seat. Was he really doing this? Was he really going to spend an evening with Jacob? Never mind that it was at the firehouse, where there were sure to be people around even at this time of night. If he did this, he was telling Jacob he was interested. It had

been a long time since he’d had the inclination, let alone the time. Even at culinary school, amongst all the divas and the drama queens, he’d been much more interested in the food than in dating. When he’d actually gotten his first job, he’d been too busy keeping his chef happy to even think about it, and when he’d opened his own place, his limited free time plunged to nothing. But the restaurant was gone, and there was no one to cook for but himself. So why shouldn’t he do this? Starting the car with a decisive twist of the key, he backed out of his spot to find Jacob already waiting in the lane, his headlights reflecting in Roman’s mirror. Adjusting it to reduce the glare, not to catch a look at Jacob, he nodded and turned out of the lot. It was a ten minute drive to his complex. By the time he pulled in, Roman’s nerves were starting to get the better of him. Jacob pulled in right next to him and shut off the Jeep’s engine, climbing out before Roman did to stand by the Lexus’ trunk. Roman popped the latch and went to join him. “I can get this.” Jacob eyed the contents. “Not without two trips. You get the delicate stuff. I’ll get the food.” Between the two of them, they managed the wine, liquor, and groceries into the townhouse, where Roman elbowed the light on before heading for the tiny kitchen. Jacob looked around as Roman began putting the food away. “Nice place.” “If you like beige.” The vodka went in the freezer, but he hesitated with the wine. Finally, feeling daring, he held up two bottles. “What goes with pierogies, white or red?” Jacob wrinkled his nose. “Beer.” “White it is.” He grabbed the cheese and a box of water crackers and threw them in a bag with the wine. “Ready?” “What about the rest?” “It’ll keep. I want to see this cooking talent of yours.” “Oh, really.” He said it in such a way that it seemed almost dirty. Roman didn’t let it fluster him. “Unless you’re all talk.” The corner of Jacob’s mouth twitched. “Get in the car, kitchen boy.” Unfortunately, it made too much sense for both of them to take their own cars. Jacob wasn’t on duty, but there was always a chance he’d be needed, and if Roman rode with him, he’d be stranded. So instead, he followed the jeep, red beneath the streetlights, through the curves and turns back to the firehouse. The building was lit like a layer cake, dark on the bottom, brightly lit and noisy above where one of the catering events Roman’s team had to make room for was in full swing. Following Jacob’s example, Roman pulled around the building to a small lot beside the office. Leaning around the seat, Jacob pulled out the grocery bags and climbed down. “Is it always this loud?” Roman asked, his own bag in hand. “It’s quieter inside. The sound proofing’s pretty good. Come on.” Instead of going through the office, Jacob led him around the back, past a high end and very large gas grill, and through a door that led directly into the kitchen. “Honey, I’m home!” Jacob shouted through the open door that led to the rec room and was answered by several half-hearted obscenities. “Night shift,” he explained. “They’ll doze out there most of the night, except Annie, who’s watch chief tonight. You met Annie?” He started unloading his bags onto the long table. “The other day.” Following suit, Roman put the wine in the oversized refrigerator. Jacob looked at him sideways. “She told me you were looking for me.”

No point in avoiding it. “I’d wanted to apologize. I was impossibly rude to you the other day. It was unforgivable.” “Then I guess you have a problem.” “Why’s that?” “If it’s unforgivable, then how can I forgive you?” He hesitated. “I’m not really sure.” “Well, I am.” Jacob handed Roman a potato peeler and a ten pound bag of potatoes. “Get to work, kitchen boy.” Roman laughed and took them. It was a small price to pay. While Roman fished around in the cabinets for a large pot and filled it halfway with water and a large pinch of salt, Jacob carefully sifted most of a one pound bag of flour into an enormous bowl with an old tin sifter Roman thought could have been handed down along with the recipe from Jacob’s grandmother. Finding a paring knife to replace the peeler, Roman began peeling and cubing the potatoes, dropping the white cubes into the pot he’d prepared. “So, your grandmother taught you to cook?” Jacob nodded. “Her only granddaughter lived out in Ohio, and my mom had learned how to cook from her mother, so she wasn’t really interested in learning Gran’s recipes. I was the only one of my brothers to show any interest.” He added three beaten eggs and mixed it through deftly, following it quickly with a container of sour cream and a pile of small cubes of butter, working it in steadily as the batter turned to a thick paste. “How many brothers?” “Two,” he grunted, forcing the spoon through the thickening dough. “Charlie’s two years older than me, works at a law firm down in the city. My younger brother, Stephan, is an accountant.” “And you’re a fireman. Every boy’s fantasy. How do your parents feel about that?” “Depends on who you ask. My dad’s glad to have at least one son who has a real man’s job, although he doesn’t mind accepting the expensive gifts they give him. Mom wishes I’d become a doctor.” “Did you want to be?” “Hell no!” He snorted. “I was never good at the whole school thing. The thought of spending another eight years in school…” He grimaced. “What about you? Have you always been crazy about food?” “Not according to my mother.” The last potato peel came off in one long strand, and Roman diced up the white flesh and dropped it into the pot. Drying his hands, he hefted the pot over to the stove, turned the heat on underneath and clapped a lid on it. “She insists I was an incredibly picky eater. To this day she refuses to believe it was because she overcooked everything.” “Ouch.” “Oh, yes. I started cooking out of self preservation when I was fourteen. By the time I left high school, I was committed.” “And look how far you’ve come.” Roman leaned back against the counter. “Yeah, great. A burnt-out restaurant. Do you know how hard it’s going to be to convince people the fire wasn’t because of our cooking?” “It wasn’t, you know.” Jacob dumped the dough out of the bowl onto a large sheet of plastic, shaped it into a neat ball and put it in the fridge. “I checked. The fuel line to the

stove was faulty, and when it ruptured, the fire back-fed into the line and blew out the other oven. Your insurance company’s going to have a field day with your contractor.” Roman was surprised at how relieved he was by that. Part of him had been worried that it had been their fault, that they hadn’t cleaned the ovens well enough or some other stupid thing they would have to take the blame for. “Thank you. For finding out, I mean.” “No problem. Look,” Jacob glanced from the stove to the fridge, “we have to wait a bit now. You want the grand tour? More than just in passing this time?” “Sure, why not?” It was the right answer, earning another one of those grins from Jacob that Roman found himself looking forward to more and more. “Well, this is obviously the kitchen.” Jacob gestured around him. “Normally we serve eight to ten guys in a night, but in a crisis, we can manage up to fifty if someone brings paper plates. More if we open up upstairs, but we’ve only had to do that once, during the flooding three years ago. Fourth of July gets kind of crazy, since we have to call almost everyone in on fireworks detail, both approved and illegal. So we have a big, all-inclusive barbecue in the afternoon, all the families and such. It’s a hell of a time.” Roman reminded himself to send over something special the next summer. Just as a thank you. Leading him out, Jacob went on. “You’ve seen the rec room. The barracks are back through there.” He indicated the other door next to the kitchen. “I’d take you back there, but a couple of the guys are sleeping right now.” “What are your shifts like?” “Usually we’re two days on and three days off, but everyone’s pretty much on call all the time. Unofficially, of course.” “Can you ever just walk away from it?” He shrugged. “Not really. That big apartment fire last summer? Brabanek came back from vacation to help with it. His wife was not pleased.” “Scary.” “Sometimes. But it’s one of those jobs where, at the end of the day, you know you did some good. That makes it worth it.” Jacob had mistaken Roman’s meaning, but Roman didn’t correct him. Besides, he was hardly one to talk. This was the first break he’d had from the kitchen in over fifteen years, and here he was, cooking again. Leading the way into the office, Jacob pointed out the monitor board. “Whenever a call comes in, it automatically goes up there,” he indicated the crawl screen currently welcoming them to the Bald Hill Fire Company, “and pops up on the screen for whoever’s on watch duty with all the details. He sounds the gong for whichever truck is going out and prints out the specs for the driver. It’s all automated at central dispatch between the cops, fire, and EMS, right down to which trucks go out on what runs.” “That seems a little…detached.” “Maybe, but it means there’s always a truck responding. You don’t end up with a truck being called that’s already out. Every minute faster we can get to a scene can mean the difference between saving someone’s home or losing someone to asphyxiation.” This time when Jacob led him into the garage, he noticed for the first time the long rows of cubbyholes stuffed tight with the heavy protective gear, each slot carefully labeled with the owner’s name, with a helmet sitting on top, looking for all the world like

school lockers. “I hadn’t realized there were so many guys.” “We have fifty-three on staff, either full time or on-call. That doesn’t count the volunteers we get in for training and backup.” If he hadn’t noticed the gear before, it would have been hard to miss the trucks, towering over them both nearly as high as the ceiling above. “Impressive, aren’t they?” Jacob grinned. “Just a little. I haven’t been this close to one before. That seemed to be encouragement enough for Jacob, who began opening doors all over the truck, showing off air compressors and hoses, Halligan bars and chainsaws, water thieves and high-rise packs and hose adaptors until Roman’s head spun. Jacob caught himself and laughed. “Sorry, it gets to be a little ‘boys with toys’ sometimes.” “No, it’s okay, I just never really thought about how much equipment it takes to fight a fire.” “Kind of like how much it takes to run a restaurant. I’d probably be just as overwhelmed.” “This truck is about as big as some kitchens I’ve worked it. How many guys does it carry?” “Eight. Two up front and six in the back.” “There’s a back?” “Haven’t you ever been in a fire truck before?” Jacob was astonished. “Not even as a kid?” “No, not ever.” “Well, get in!” Unable to find a logical argument against it, Roman hauled himself up the steep steps into the crew compartment, helped along by Jacob’s hand on his behind, giving him a boost. He turned back to glare. “Jacob.” “Yes, Roman?” Butter wouldn’t melt in his mouth. “Do you help your colleagues up like that?” “Of course not.” He waited until Roman turned back to add, “None of them have as fine an ass as you. Except Annie. And she’d deck me if I tried.” “What makes you think I won’t?” By now they were both in the intimate confines of the crew cab, Jacob uncomfortably close. “I don’t know. Do you want to?” His nearness had a predictable effect on Roman, who shook his head faintly. “Can I ask you a question?” “Sure.” Roman dampened his thick, dry lips. “Why do you call me Jacob? I told you, my friends call me Jake.” “I didn’t know I was a friend.” “I’d like you to be.” Reaching up, he fingered lightly along Roman’s jaw. Roman wanted it, too, wanted a lot more than friendship right in that moment. But it was too fast. “The potatoes are going to burn.” Jacob jerked away. “You’re right. We’d better get back.” Roman ignored his disappointment as he followed Jacob back to the kitchen. It was just as well. The potatoes were just on the border of mushy when Roman drained them out. Jacob was turning the dough out onto a floured counter. “That needs

sautéed onion,” he instructed, “and there’s a bag of grated cheese in the fridge.” “How much?” “A couple of onions.” He was already rolling out the dough in firm, deft strokes. “The whole bag of cheese.” He didn’t seem angry, for which Roman was grateful. They worked quietly, Roman dicing and sautéing onions in a generous amount of butter before dumping them in with the potatoes to mash, Jacob cutting out neat circles, kneading the remnants together and rolling it out again. Once he was done, he checked on Roman’s progress. “Not bad, kid. You could make a living at this.” “Gee, thanks.” Jacob added bacon and parsley, a couple of pinches of salt and a heavy dash of pepper, and mixed it all through. Then without any measuring tool, he started pinching out small balls of the filling and folding them into the dough circles, sealing the edges with deft pinches to make neat half moon packets. “You want to try?” Roman attempted to copy his motions, but the edges didn’t stay together well. Jacob slid a bowl of water closer to him. “Wet the edges. They’ll stick better. Shouldn’t you know this?” “I told you, dough is not my thing.” “Well, as Gran says, you can only get better from here.” The second one came out a little tighter. “I should put your gran on my payroll. These look delicious.” “Thank you. The dough is her recipe, but the filling is actually mine. She puts cabbage in hers, but that’s too much work for a bunch of guys who hate vegetables.” In almost no time, they had finished over a hundred pierogi, some neater than others, all precisely laid out on cookie sheets. “Now we’ll wrap these up in plastic and—” Jacob was interrupted by the mechanical bleat of the station alarm, two quick blasts followed by one slower one, a pause, and then it was repeated. Both of them paused, listening. The door next door banged open as whoever was in the barracks joined those already awake and ready for action. “Do you need to go?” Roman asked quietly. Jacob shook his head, but his shoulders stayed tense. “It’s not an all call. They’ve got it covered.” “You want to, though, don’t you?” Jacob shrugged. “Hard not to. It’s part of the training, jumping when we hear the bells.” “You must be a good firefighter, then.” The look Jacob gave him was unreadable. “Let’s get these wrapped up.” They fell into comfortable conversation as they packed the food away and cleaned up. Jacob boiled half a dozen of the pierogi and fried them up in butter and onions for Roman to try. They were very good, and Roman was already toying with ways to adapt the recipe for the restaurant when it reopened. Adding the cheese and wine he brought made it almost a full meal, and for half an hour they relaxed in each other’s company. When they heard the truck come back, Roman took that as his sign to leave. “I’d better get home. You probably want to get the report.” “Let me walk you out.” They rinsed out their wineglasses, tidiness a must in someone else’s kitchen. “I’ll get

the rest,” Jacob said, holding the door for him. “Okay.” It was a clear night, a huge orange moon just starting to show through the bare trees, outshining the stars around. The party upstairs was winding down, the DJ playing the last few slow songs before it broke up entirely. They were halfway around the building when Jacob spoke. “Roman.” Jacob could go from completely open to inscrutable faster than anyone Roman had ever known. Now he was unreadable, the moonlight shadows making the task even more difficult. Roman didn’t need to read his face to know his intention when he stepped closer in the darkness. Pulse racing, Roman took a matching step forward. He was slightly taller than Jacob, he realized for the first time, his nose just above the bridge of Jacob’s. In this light, he couldn’t make out the color of his eyes, but there was no doubting their intensity. “I know I keep moving too fast,” Jacob went on, talking low and soft, as though to a skittish horse, “and I know you’re a bit awkward with all this, but if I don’t take this chance, I’ll never be able to sleep tonight.” Roman licked his lips, anticipating. “Okay.” “Yeah?” Rather than answer, Roman took the initiative, leaning in to capture Jacob’s mouth, praying he’d read the signs right. Apparently he had. Jacob’s strong arms folded around him, pulling their bodies even closer as he opened his mouth beneath Roman’s, inviting more. Such a simple action shouldn’t steal his breath, but Roman was mindless in that instant, the gentle kiss twisting into a fiery assault. Jacob was hard everywhere, which Roman determined with his whole body. The two of them struggled for dominance, their mutual desire undeniable. Roman didn’t remember moving, so he was surprised to find brickwork against his back. He used the added leverage to grind his cock against Jacob’s, making them both groan. “Roman.” Jacob sucked along the column of his neck before Roman caught his mouth again. He allowed it for a moment before pulling away again. “I have to go in,” Jacob forced the words out painfully. Roman was mortified and let his hands fall from Jacob’s shoulders. “It’s not like that.” He reinforced the vehement words with another brusque kiss. “They know we were here, and I don’t want them talking shit about you. Even if it’s going to kill me to walk away.” With a low growl, he took another full-bodied kiss. “Jesus. So much for awkward.” “Just out of practice.” Roman stole one more apologetic kiss before letting his head rest against the bricks. “Thanks. For this.” Jacob caressed Roman’s jaw, catching the stubble of Roman’s five o’clock shadow. “Don’t get me wrong, I want you so bad right now, I can hardly see straight. But I want it to be right, you know?” “Can you come by later?” “I want to. God, I want to. But there’s no telling when I’ll get out of here now. And it might be better if we both had some time to cool down and think about this rationally.” “Hoping you’ll think better of it?” Jacob caught Roman’s chin. “No, but I’m afraid you will.”

“Then why wait?” “Because I know once won’t be enough.” “Christ, Jacob. You don’t make it easy to walk away.” “Tell me about it.” Jacob kissed him again, hard and fierce, before taking his hand and leading him away from the wall and back towards his Lexus. Roman dutifully unlocked it and opened the door, even though it was the last thing he wanted to do. “How about tomorrow? We can maybe talk about it over dinner?” Jacob winced. “I’m on the next two days.” “Two days?” Now he looked genuinely pained. “I know, I know. But if this is going to be as good as I’m thinking, it’ll be worth the wait.” “You’re optimistic.” “Roman, were you just sharing the same kiss I was? If the sex is half as good as that,” he leaned closer, his breath warm against Roman’s cheek, “it’s going to be amazing.” Roman shivered, his fingers tightening on Jacob’s forearm. “And you expect me to leave after that?” Jacob chuckled. “At least you get some privacy. I have to go in there and talk to those guys while I’m sporting the hardest wood I’ve had in a long time.” “Sorry.” “Don’t be.” Daring, he teased Roman’s lips. “Just think about how you’re going to take care of it for me later.” Roman sucked in a breath. “I don’t think that’s helping either of us.” Shaking his head with a rueful chuckle, Jacob stepped back. “Go home, Roman. You’re too much of a temptation here.” Roman climbed in and started the engine before leaning out the window. “Tuesday night, though, yes?” “It’s a date.” A date. Roman couldn’t remember the last time he’d had an honest-to-God date. He pulled out of the lot, anticipating a long two days. Jacob’s figure was silhouetted under the parking lot light until Roman was out of sight.

Chapter Four Tuesday did not go the way Roman had planned. Most of the prep for the Gulbransen wedding was done, only the last-minute salads to chop and the chicken and prime rib to roast the day of the event. Their makeshift setup had done the job, to the point where Roman was actually starting to feel comfortable here, despite the occasional sirens that made his heart stop. Another week and they’d be gone, moved into their own catering kitchen in a reclaimed industrial park on the other side of town. Another new kitchen to get used to, and without the tempting distractions downstairs that this one had. It was just after eleven thirty. He had plenty of time to get things cleaned up here, get home to shower and change before meeting Jacob for dinner. He’d picked a quiet little wine bar with an amazing wood-fired grill run by a friend of his from his days as a sous. It was closer to the city, which had the dual benefit of protecting their privacy, as he still wasn’t certain how out Jacob was, and giving them quiet time on the drive to talk. He was looking forward to getting to know Jacob a little better. There was no denying the chemistry between them, but Roman really hoped they had more in common than that. Tobie snapped her cell phone shut. “You are either going to love me or hate me.” “Well, that can’t be good.” “I’ve just scored us a plum job, doing an intimate dinner for ten for the CFO of TarnaPharm, that drug company near Landersville.” Roman frowned. “That doesn’t sound too bad.” “I know! And you know if they like it, she’ll talk us up to all the execs there. We might even be able to score some of their bigger events, maybe their shareholder meeting. And think of the exposure that could get us!” After all this time working with her, Roman could tell when Tobie was stalling. “What’s the bad news?” She winced. “The dinner’s tonight.” “Tonight?” Roman wasn’t the only one shouting in disbelief. Mo and Jamie both converged on them, voicing their own disapproval. Roman held up a hand. “Tobie, there’s no way we could be ready for a dinner tonight. We don’t even have a menu. It would take hours just to get that settled, and then we’d need to get the ingredients and put it all together. If we were in our own kitchen, sure, maybe. But here?” “You can skip that first step,” Tobie placated him. “Her secretary’s put the entire menu in our hands. Ms. Weir’s husband has a strawberry allergy and one of the guests is Jewish. Those are the only restrictions.” “Tobie—” “Come on, Roman. You’ve worked on worse deadlines in the restaurant. Dinner for ten should be no problem.” He wanted to scream at her that he had a date for the first time in years, a date with the guy she’d been shoving him at, but his chef brain had already kicked into gear. He grabbed the phone away from her with a glare and punched in a number. “Hey, Russ,” he said when his butcher picked up the phone. “This is Roman Geary.” “Roman!” Russ’ bluff voice was tinged with surprise and pleasure. “I hadn’t

expected to hear from you for a while. I was sorry to hear about the restaurant.” “Thanks, Russ. We’re rebuilding, but in the meantime, we’re working out of temporary quarters. I’m hoping you can help me out.” “Sure, man, anything. What do you need?” “Dinner for ten tonight. What have you got that’s not frozen?” “Ouch. That’s cutting it a little fine, isn’t it?” “Blame my house manager,” he said with a pointed look at Tobie, who just rolled her eyes. “Well, let me see.” His voice had gone a bit hollow, telling Roman that Russ had stepped into his cooler to look around. “I’ve got some nice pork chops.” “Can’t do. What have you got that’s kosher?” Russ was quiet for a minute, obviously looking around. “Okay, this is kind of out there, but I actually have a dozen partridges in on special order that the buyer backed out on. I can give you a good price if you can use them.” “That’s perfect. I’ll be out to get them in half an hour.” “You got it.” “Mo,” he ordered, snapping the phone shut and tossing it back to Tobie, “we’re doing partridge. Head over to that farm stand on Draper Road. See what they’ve got in the way of winter squash. We can do soup for an opener. And see what else they’ve got fresh to do sides and a salad. Jamie—” “Already ahead of you, boss. What about crème brulee and fruit crisps? We can keep it simple, do it in some of the coffee cups.” “Perfect. And steal the rolls from the cooler. We’ll have enough time to replace them before Saturday.” “See?” Tobie smiled brightly. “No problem!” Feeling his plans for the evening slipping away, he wrapped his hands around her throat loosely and shook her. “If that shareholder meeting doesn’t materialize, you’re a dead woman. You know that, right?” She didn’t look worried in the least. **** The pressure built as the afternoon wore on. Timing everything to be ready to pack and go at the same time was only half the challenge. Tobie and Mo had to coordinate the service, leaving Roman only Jamie to help with the prep. The partridges and butternut squash were roasting, but there was still the dressing to put together, salad, sides, and starters. Jamie pulled double duty where he could, chopping apples for the stuffing as he prepped the desserts, but there was only so much he could do, leaving Roman cleaning and chopping for himself. He hadn’t done this much work since his sous days. “What the hell is taking Mo so long?” he grumbled. “I need her on those salads.” “Anything I can do to help?” Jacob’s voice was almost surreal in the intensely focused kitchen. Roman had forgotten all about their date, had forgotten about everything in the pressure of their deadline. And to be honest, he wasn’t grateful to be reminded at this point. Pulling out the tray of squash, he forked it to test the doneness. “Are you any good with a knife?” Jacob thankfully didn’t waste time with boasting. “Not bad. Better than most. Not as good as you.”

“Good enough.” Pulling the tray out, Roman dropped it on the stove top and tossed the oven mitts back in their box before grabbing a large paring knife and the box of blood oranges. “Peel and section those. When that’s done, I’ll show you how to seed a pomegranate.” If he was surprised at Roman’s brusqueness, Jacob didn’t show it, settling onto a stool to begin peeling three dozen delicate oranges with a care belied by his big hands. Roman didn’t have time to watch, minding the pot stewing apples, onions, and raisins in butter and cognac for the stuffing as he scooped out the orange flesh of the squash into a pot of chicken stock with another shot of cognac for seasoning. The alcohol was the running theme through the menu, tying together all the different elements. He had even gotten an extra bottle to serve with dessert to finish the meal, either to drink warmed or splash in their coffee. Speaking of coffee… “Mo!” he shouted behind him. “Do we have a decent coffee maker yet?” “On it, boss. Relax.” “That’s a joke, right?” “Which part? The coffee maker or the relaxing?” Roman shook his head. His intensity during service was a running joke among his staff. They all took it seriously, but that didn’t stop them from prodding him about it. He turned to reach for the stick blender and found that Jacob had finished with the oranges and had moved on to the three large pomegranates Mo had found at the grocery store when she was filling out their ingredient list. Using the paring knife, Jacob carefully peeled back the leathery skin before using his finger to coax the tender crimson seeds from each chamber into a bowl without rupturing the delicate membranes. Roman couldn’t help but respect a man who knew how to properly seed a pomegranate, but he didn’t have time now to acknowledge it, just giving a nod when Jacob looked up. They all continued to work at a brisk pace, Jacob integrated into the practiced team like any new assistant would have been, willingly doing any task set to him, asking for guidance when needed, but mostly just diving in with a nod. By four forty-five, everything was packed in warmer boxes or coolers and crates and loaded into the van. Ami had been available to help serve, and Mo had already changed into a crisp black chef’s coat embroidered with the restaurant logo. With a sigh, Roman reached for one of his own. “I’m very sorry, Jacob. I should have said before, but I won’t—” Tobie took the jacket from his hand. “He won’t have a chance to freshen up before your date.” “Tobie, I need to be there—” “No, you don’t. Mo handles the catering when you’re busy at the restaurant, she can handle this. Ami will be there, and so will I. Now go on, you two, and have a good night.” She hopped up in the passenger’s seat next to Mo, and Roman could only watch as they pulled away. Jamie was the first one to sigh. “Well, that’s the fun part over. Time for clean up.” Roman started to follow him back into the kitchen, but Jacob caught his arm. “We’ll be right there,” he said to Jamie, who just nodded. As soon as the door swung shut behind him, Jacob pulled Roman into the dining room and backed him against the wall. “That was the sexiest thing I have ever seen,” he insisted, his mouth brushing against Roman’s.

The adrenaline rush Roman had been functioning on the last few hours transformed instantly into white hot lust. This was the reason so many chefs ended up with addictions. Coming down from the high of service was too much of a crash for them, and they needed to replace it with something. Food, drugs, sex, anything. Roman had always managed to avoid that before. But with Jacob here, his hard body pressed against Roman’s, it was hard to think why. He reached up and caught Jacob by the back of his hair, jerking him closer. “You like that, do you? Like seeing me in charge?” Jacob ground into him harder. “Fuck, yeah.” Roman let himself return the action, savoring the feel of Jacob’s bulge against his own swelling erection. “I’ll have to remember that for later.” “Later?” Jacob’s growl was pure animal. “Yes, later. Jamie’s got his arm in a cast, remember? I can’t leave him with all that washing up.” He pulled Jacob a little closer. “No matter how tempting the offer.” Blowing out a soft moan, Jacob let his head fall against Roman’s shoulder for a moment before forcing himself away. “All right. But we’re talking about this later.” Roman raised his eyebrows. “Do you really want to talk about it?” “No.” Grabbing Roman’s shoulders, he shoved him into the kitchen. Jacob very nobly took washing, keeping Jamie between them rinsing and leaving Roman to dry and put away. It was probably for the best, as it gave Roman a chance to regain some control. Maybe he was old fashioned, but he’d really been looking forward to this evening, having a chance to get to know Jacob a little better. And from the amused looks Jacob was giving him over Jamie’s head, he suspected that maybe Jacob felt the same. It took about an hour before the last pot was scrubbed and the last tray dried. Jamie looked wiped, and Roman thought he could see twinges around his eyes that indicated he’d overdone it. “Go on home,” he insisted. “We can finish up here.” Jamie protested, but Roman could see he was relieved. “Are you sure? I really don’t mind—” “Go home, Jamie. And don’t come in tomorrow. I’m going to need you for Saturday and don’t want you overdoing it.” “All right, boss, whatever you say.” Taking his coat down from the rack, he pulled it on one armed. “Thanks for the help today, Jake. We couldn’t have done it without you.” Jacob pulled the plug on the sink. “Oh, you’d have managed. You guys are good.” “Thanks anyway. Have a good night.” Roman watched Jacob watch him leave. “I thought firemen were the only ones who did that.” “Did what?” “Pushed too hard too long.” “He probably didn’t even notice.” Roman put the last baking tray away and dried his hands, throwing the towel in with all the other soiled linens. “Once the endorphins kick in, you forget about everything.” “I just never thought of cooking as a high adrenaline activity.” “That’s because you’ve only ever done it at your own pace. The way we do it?” Roman shook his head. “There’s no bigger rush that doesn’t involve risk to life and limb.”

“I’m starting to see that.” Jacob finished wiping out the sink and threw his towel in after Roman’s. “Look, I understand if you want to back out on tonight. You must be exhausted.” “I’m not. And I don’t. Really. But would you mind if we went by my place first? I’d really like to grab a shower.” “Sure, if you want. Or you could just use our showers downstairs if you wanted. Might save a little time.” Roman did keep a spare shirt and slacks on hand in case of accidents while he worked, and the promise of getting their date going that much sooner decided him. “That would be great, thanks.” Once he’d grabbed his duffel, he followed Jacob downstairs. Chris and Annie greeted him, as well as a couple of the other guys he didn’t recognize but who had obviously heard about him. “When are you going to cook for us again?” one of them called. “Give me a couple of days,” he shot back, surprised by the sense of camaraderie he felt with these guys. “We’ll give you a we’re-going-away party, how’s that?” He was pleasantly surprised by the groans of disappointment. Jacob led him back into the barracks and pointed him towards the men’s showers. “I’ll be out in the rec room when you’re done. Take your time.” “You don’t want to wash up, too?” The look Jacob gave him was enough to get Roman’s libido going again. “If I come in there with you, there won’t be a lot of washing going on.” “You say that like it’s a bad thing.” His own answer surprised him, so flip and casual. Roman liked the sound of Jacob’s laugh. “Hurry up. After all that cooking, I’m hungry.” Roman showered quickly and shaved just to be thorough before dressing again, grateful he had packed himself a spare pair of slacks rather than jeans. A quick check in the mirror on the back of the door showed every dark hair in place, shirt slightly creased but otherwise crisp and tucked neatly into the black slacks. It wasn’t quite the look he’d been planning for the evening, but it was good enough. Despite his words to the contrary, Jacob had taken the opportunity to change as well, the dark blue dress shirt complimenting his eyes, his pale hair damp where he had attempted to slick it back. “Feel better?” “Much, thanks.” He checked his watch before looking around to be sure he wouldn’t be overheard. “I had made dinner reservations, but I don’t think we’ll make them now. I’m sorry.” “Don’t worry about it. Come on. I know a place where we can get some great beer and steaks.” “Right now, as long as I don’t have to cook it, it sounds great.” Roman thought he heard murmuring behind them as they headed out to the car, but if Jacob heard it, he paid it no mind. Once they were in the privacy of Jacob’s Jeep, Roman had to ask, “Aren’t you worried about being seen with me?” That startled Jacob enough to stop him with his hand on the ignition. “No. They all know about me.”

“And you don’t get any trouble because of it?” Jacob started the car and backed out of his parking space. “We all rely on each other for our lives every single day. If anyone causes trouble, Brabanek gets them transferred out.” He paused to check traffic, continuing after he’d pulled out onto the main road. “I’m not obnoxious about it, which is why I didn’t join you in the shower even though there’s a separate stall and it could have been completely innocent. I show them that kind of respect and they return the favor.” “You’re lucky.” “I know. Brabanek’s a good commander.” Roman suspected the feeling was mutual. The steak and beer place Jacob meant was a bar on the other side of town. It wasn’t the sort of place Roman would have ever gone to on his own, but once again Jacob surprised him by being right on the money. The cuts of beef were tender and perfectly grilled, and Roman was surprised to find himself genuinely enjoying the simple food. If it weren’t for his companion, he might have asked to speak with the chef, such as he was. He was sure Jacob wouldn’t mind, but Roman wasn’t really interested in leaving his company at the moment. Their conversation was small talk, all the little things you talk about on a first date that they hadn’t gotten around to on theirs, just comfortable and easy. Afterwards, they shot a couple of rounds of pool, which they split, before Jacob took a long drink of his beer and set the empty mug on the table. “Ready to go?” And just like that, Roman felt like a teenager again. “Yeah, sure.” Jacob peeled off a couple of bills and paid their tab. Roman didn’t protest. If plans had gone the way he’d intended, he’d have been the one paying. Once they were back in the car, Jacob turned to him. “I’d really like to take you back to my place, if that’s okay, but if you’d rather, I can take you home.” “No, that’s okay.” Roman hoped he didn’t sound too eager. “I’d like to see where you live.” Jacob smiled wryly and started the car. “Well, don’t get too excited. It’s not much of a place.” “I’m sure it’s fine.” It was a small rowhouse in the middle of town, not too wide, not too tall, and fortunately on the end of the block, so it had side windows and a small yard, unlike the others on the block which only had postage stamps out front. “It was Gran’s,” Jacob explained. “She left everything in it to the rest of the family, but the house she left to me. Guess she was worried about where I’d live in my old age.” It was hard to see much in the dark street. Any details of the house were lost in the too-bright flare of the streetlight next to it. “She really must have cared about you.” “Come on in.” Jacob led the way up the short walk and unlocked the door, snapping on the inside light when he got it open. If he was expecting an old lady house inside, Roman was disappointed. The front hall was fairly modern, the walls stripped of any of the original wallpaper and painted instead a warm mustard color. Roman turned to compliment Jacob on it, only to find him right at his back, reaching up to catch Roman’s head and pull him into a slow kiss. Roman didn’t resist, this time taking the lead himself to back Jacob up against the door. It wasn’t the overheated assault of earlier, which he might have expected. Instead, both of them seemed content to take this part slow, exploring each other’s mouths,

touching gently. There was no doubt they would both get what they wanted, so for now there was no reason to rush it. “This is why I wanted to bring you here,” Jacob murmured against Roman’s mouth. “My place, my car, you can’t leave until I’m ready for you to go.” Roman caressed his hands up the front of Jacob’s shirt and started undoing the buttons there. “I’m good with that. I don’t foresee wanting to leave for a long, long time.” “One more thing we agree on.” Jacob slipped out of his shoes and started for the stairs, leading Roman by the hand. Roman kicked off his own shoes and followed. Roman didn’t really notice much about Jacob’s home, more aware of the feel of his hand in Jacob’s and the lingering remembrance of their mouths together. As soon as they reached the room at the top of the stairs, Roman pulled him back, letting Jacob’s weight press him against the doorframe as Roman pulled him in for another kiss. It was passionate and intense, but never overly aggressive. Jacob slipped his arms out of his shirt and started working Roman’s buttons, their mouths too busy together to allow for speech. For his part, Roman caressed Jacob’s bare chest, savoring coarse hair against his palms and the sculpted musculature it covered. When his hands skimmed down over Jacob’s stomach, Jacob shivered. “Too fast?” Roman pulled back long enough to ask. Shaking his head, Jacob recaptured his mouth. “Not fast enough, maybe,” he admitted guiltily. Roman chuckled. “We’ve got all night. Plenty of time to make up for too fast later.” Jacob grinned. “I like the way you think.” The way Roman was thinking now had him unbuttoning Jacob’s fly even as he pushed him backwards towards the half-made bed. Jacob shoved him away and shucked jeans and underwear in one smooth move before settling back on the bed, drawing Roman with him. Even naked, Jacob remained well proportioned, his cock firm and proud as it jutted up invitingly. Roman accepted, wrapping his hand loosely around it like a familiar knife handle. Jacob hissed and arched into it. “Better than I’d imagined.” Roman leaned down to tease his lips. “Did you imagine it often?” His blue eyes were so dark. “Every day since I met you.” Jacob surprised him by slipping his hand into Roman’s slacks to return the caress, rough calluses making for delicious friction. “Take them off,” he ordered. Roman chuckled. “Who’s in charge here?” “Well, you’re the one on top.” “So I am.” Roman pushed himself up to his knees and undid his slacks, pushing them down to expose himself to Jacob’s hungry gaze. “Better and better.” “You like?” Leaning back down, he let their cocks come into contact for the first time. They both groaned aloud. Jacob wrapped an arm around Roman’s waist and pulled him down further, increasing the friction as he rocked his hips. “Definitely going to have to make up for this later.” “I’m rather enjoying this.” Which was an understatement. He could barely see straight for the pleasure coursing through him. “Roman, if you don’t fuck me soon, I may explode.” “That would be messy.”

“You have no idea. Condoms and lube are in the drawer.” He gestured with his head towards the bedside table. Taking the less-than-subtle hint, Roman yanked open the drawer and found box and bottle. Jacob took the bottle from him as Roman fumbled out one foil packet and ripped it open. The latex was cold when he rolled it into place, but Jacob’s hand was there a moment later, warming it with thick, slippery lubricant before tightening his grip to draw him in. Roman surrendered and allowed Jacob to place him, taking over as the tight clutch of muscles parted to allow him entrance. “Christ,” he breathed, forcing himself in slowly, Jacob a glove tight fit around his aching cock. “God, that’s good,” Jacob breathed against his ear. “Worth not waiting?” “Definitely.” It had been too long, and Roman could feel his control slipping. “Jacob, I can’t…” Jacob curled arms and legs around him, lifting his hips higher. “Let it go, Roman. Plenty of time, remember? Oh, fuck yeah, just like that.” “Just like that” was hard and fast and robbed Roman of what little reason he had left. “Jesus, Jacob, you feel so damn good. So strong and tight and Jesus Christ!” He came just that fast, his whole body going rigid as though he’d been electrocuted, shooting off in hot, fierce spurts that left him weak as a kitten, collapsing into Jacob’s embrace. Chuckling, Jacob held him until he slipped out, his satisfied cock going slack. Easing him face down on the mattress, he placed quick kisses along Roman’s spine. “Feel better now?” “Jesus, Jacob,” was all he could manage. Jacob chuckled. Cocking his head, Roman looked up at him. “But what about you?” Speaking was almost too much work. “I know you didn’t come.” “Yet.” Roman shivered. Rising from the bed, Jacob made certain Roman was watching as he pulled out another condom and sleeved himself. It shouldn’t arouse him so soon after coming so hard, but already Roman could feel his cock twitching in response. Jacob kneeled on the bed next to him, dropping wet, sucking kisses along Roman’s spine, one hand massaging his ass as he went. With a quick swipe of his tongue across the crease, Jacob grabbed both Roman’s hips and lifted his ass up in the air. “You okay with this?” Roman clutched at the sheets. “Better than okay.” “Like this, do you?” There was just the barest sensation of cold before Jacob’s broad head began working in, overwhelming Roman with heat and pleasure. “Wasn’t sure if you were one of those guys who only liked to give.” His words were tense with restraint. “God, no, this is good.” Roman arched his back, taking Jacob even further in. “Oh yeah.” With a jerky thrust Jacob finished the job, his balls slapping against Roman’s from the force of it. “Gotta say, I can’t decide what feels better.” Wrapping his arm around Roman’s chest, Jacob levered him up until they rested back to chest, only Jacob’s strong embrace keeping Roman balanced. “It felt so good having your cock up my ass,” he growled softly in Roman’s ear, “but this is amazing.”

Still holding Roman, Jacob pulled back and started thrusting, each stroke more powerful than the last, earning groans and curses of pleasure from each of them. Roman clutched blindly for the headboard, using the extra purchase to meet each thrust with a matching force of his own. “Christ, Roman!” Jacob jerked, each plunge faster and wild until he roared out one last ferocious surge and came. Roman gasped in surprise, his own unexpected orgasm spilling out on the bedding beneath them. Jacob held him for long moments afterward, arms snug around Roman’s chest, face buried in his shoulder until finally he withdrew with a soft sigh. Shoving the soiled sheets out of the way and tossing out the spent condom, he collapsed on the pillows, pulling Roman down with him. Roman let Jacob tug him into his arms, too relaxed to resist. “Feels good,” he admitted against Jacob’s shoulder. “I should hope so,” Jacob chuckled. “You came twice to my once.” Roman looked up. “Are we keeping score?” Jacob’s blue eyes got more intense. “By the time tonight’s over, we’ll both have lost track.” He caught Roman’s mouth in a slow kiss. Roman took control of it, rolling Jacob beneath him, determined to do his part to make Jacob’s promise a reality.

Chapter Five Roman woke up to Jacob’s fingers lightly outlining each rib, his lips caressing along Roman’s collarbone and down his sternum. Still half asleep, Roman settled his hand on Jacob’s head, toying with the coarse strands absently. “You know what I like best about you?” Jacob murmured against his skin, his breath warm and faintly damp. “Hmm?” “The way you always call me Jacob. Like I’m important or something.” Tightening his grip, Roman pulled his lover up for a kiss. “You are important to me,” Roman whispered the words into Jacob’s mouth. Jacob pulled him closer, deepening the kiss. When it shifted from intimate to aggressive, Roman pulled away, trapping Jacob beneath him. “When do you have to go in to work?” He swiped the sensitive vein in Jacob’s neck with his tongue. “Two days on, three days off, remember?” He flipped them, taking his turn trapping Roman with a wicked leer. “I don’t have to be anywhere until Saturday.” Roman grinned back. “Funny, neither do I.” It wasn’t entirely true. After a pleasant morning of mattress calisthenics, a steamy shower, and one last quickie for good measure, Roman finally called in to Tobie while indulging in the luxury of Jacob making pancakes for him. “How’d it go last night?” “Great!” Tobie’s enthusiasm was in no way faked even through the filter of the phone. “They booked us again for Christmas and one of the guests is going to call us about a wedding booking. I told you this was a good idea.” “You’re just lucky we were able to pull it off.” Jacob threw sausage into a hot pan, the smell enough to make Roman groan aloud. “I never doubted it for a second.” He didn’t think Tobie noticed his inappropriate sounds until she said, “Enough about that. How did last night go? It sounds like I’m interrupting something.” “Just breakfast, you dirty minded woman. I called you, remember?” “Breakfast is good. Breakfast at one in the afternoon is even better.” He dreaded to think what she’d say about breakfast at one in the afternoon with Jacob wearing nothing but a pair of loose sweatpants. He knew what he thought of it. “I gave Jamie the day off,” he deflected, knowing that sooner or later she’d badger all the details out of him. “Do you need anything else from me today?” “Nope. Mo and I have the cleanup from last night done, so I think we’re set here.” “Great. I’ll be in tomorrow morning to sign for the last deliveries and get the meat prepped. If you need anything in the meantime, call me.” “Will do, boss. Enjoy breakfast.” This last was singsonged in twelve-year-old innuendo. He hung up on her. Jacob set a plate down in front of him before sitting down across the table with his own plate. “She seems like a pistol.” “I couldn’t run the restaurant without her.” He cut into the pancakes, savoring the

fragrant steam that escaped. “I just wish she didn’t think that extended to my personal life.” The first bite was gorgeous, fluffy and tender and just sweet enough. “This is really good.” “All those pancake breakfast fundraisers at the firehouse. Wait until you try my Italian sausages.” With his mouth full, all Roman could do was waggle his eyebrows suggestively. Jacob poked at his own plate. “But that’s settled now, yeah? Your personal life? At least for a while?” The question made Roman forget about his plate. “What are you asking?” “Nothing. Forget it. It’s just me moving too fast again, that’s all.” Roman took the fork away from him. “Are you asking me to go steady? That’s a little intense for a first date, don’t you think?” Jacob looked at him without blinking. “So was last night. And technically, it’s a second date.” He was right on both counts. “I just… I hadn’t thought…” “No, that’s fine, I get it.” “No, you don’t.” Roman caught Jacob’s hand before he could pull away. “I’m not saying no, Jacob. I’m just saying I need to think about it.” He blew out an exasperated breath. “You really don’t know how to go slow, do you?” This time Jacob’s handsome smile was sheepish. “Hazard of the job. You never know when something might happen, so when an opportunity comes along, you have to grab it. Can I have my fork back now?” “Depends. Are you going to kick me out now?” “What? No! Why would I do that?” “Just making sure that wasn’t an ultimatum.” He handed back the fork. “No ultimatum. Just…hopeful optimism.” “Well, I’m hopefully optimistic that I can get you to make some more of these pancakes.” He took another bite. “And then I’m optimistic I can get you out of those sweats again.” Jacob grinned. “That’s not optimism. That’s a sure thing.” And just like that, they were fine. **** The rest of the week went by in a flurry of prep, cooking and lots of time with Jacob, both in and out of their clothes. It didn’t leave a lot of time for thinking, but in the rare quiet moment, Roman couldn’t help but consider what Jacob had said. In any other situation, they never would have worked. Their worlds were so radically different, it was almost impossible to imagine how they could have found each other in the first place, let alone what they could possibly have in common. But being forced to rent the firehouse had given each of them entrée into a small corner of the other’s world. Now Roman could see as many similarities as differences between the two, the adrenaline, the sense of service, the satisfaction of a job well done. Roman could never do what Jacob did, but he understood it better now. As for getting involved more seriously, that was a step Roman just wasn’t sure he was ready to take. Saturday came, and with it the long awaited Gulbransen wedding and Jacob’s two

days back on shift. Roman might have been relieved if he had even a moment to think on it. Catering for a hundred and forty didn’t allow that, though, and all of his staff were in a well-orchestrated frenzy right along with him. There were disasters to avert and magic to create and a demanding bridezilla to satisfy, and Roman threw himself into it with a single-minded gusto that guaranteed success. By the time they turned the kitchen at the mansion where the wedding was being held back over to the regular staff, they had more than lived up to the reputation they all had worked so hard for before the fire. Roman and his crew all collapsed in chairs around a table in the back corner of the bar, ignored by wedding guests and staff alike. Tobie turned up last with a tray of flutes and a bottle of champagne. “They paid for that,” Roman protested half-heartedly as she peeled back the foil. “No, we did, and they haven’t finished paying us back yet. We’ll comp them for it if it makes you feel better.” She popped the cork, earning a weak but heartfelt cheer. When Tobie poured out glasses for everyone, Roman took one and stood up. “We’ve had a rough few weeks,” he said surprised to feel his throat tightening with emotion, “and for a while there I thought we were done for. But you all pulled together and made this happen. If it weren’t for you, Geary’s would be just a memory. Thank you all for sticking with me, for kicking my ass when I needed it,” they all laughed when he saluted Tobie, who saluted right back with a grin, “and for being the best team I could have ever asked for.” He looked to Mo and to Jamie, finally out of his sling and with downy blond eyebrows starting to come back in, to Tobie and Ami and Lisa, who had come back tonight to help Tobie coordinate the extra wait staff they had brought on. His family. “To you.” They all raised their glasses, but Tobie chimed in, “To all of us. None of us would be here without you, Roman.” That earned a louder “Here, here,” before they all drank down the expensive champagne. Roman sat back down, propping his tired feet up on an empty chair. “The new temporary kitchen is just about done,” he told them, sipping at the wine left in his glass. “Health inspector’s coming in on Monday, and if she gives it a clean bill, we can be cooking out of there by Tuesday. I hate to ask, but I need all of you to come in tomorrow to help pack up to move us out of the firehouse.” “Someone’s going to be sorry to leave all those sexy firemen,” Tobie smirked into her wineglass. Roman was about to protest when he noticed Ami blushing. “Chris and I only went out once. It’s not a big deal.” “Uh-huh.” “Hey, who can blame her?” Mo chimed in. “Some of these guys are mighty fine. If I weren’t married…” Jamie glanced at Roman with a good-natured eye-roll that shouted, “Women!” Roman grinned and saluted him with his glass. He didn’t want to disillusion him by telling him he was the only one at the table who didn’t appreciate the finer qualities of the Bald Hill fire company. Tobie caught Roman’s eye and winked. He went back afterwards to his own empty, Spartan apartment, showered and crawled into his cold, solitary bed, trying not to think about the past few nights when he

went to sleep curled up in Jacob’s warm embrace. It would be easy to have that every night. The reasonable part of him said it was too fast, too risky, but he was cold and alone, and what was the point of any kind of success without anyone to share it with? He flopped over and punched down his pillow. Later. Once he had his own place back, when the business was more stable, then he could think about it. Right now, though, what he had with Jacob was enough, and he was content to leave things the way they were. If he kept reaching out for Jacob in the night, it didn’t mean anything.

Chapter Six Everyone showed up by ten-thirty the next day and they started the long process of washing and packing everything up for the move to their new home for the next six-toeight months. Roman had promised a going-away party for the company, so he had steaks marinating and was working on stuffed baked potatoes while Jamie had put together a chocolate cake that would leave them longing for more. Roman had ordered a couple of cases of beer as well as soda and coffee for the guys who were still on duty. Jacob would be coming off-shift by dinner time, so Roman hoped he’d appreciate the beer. After working around it so long, none of them noticed the alarm downstairs at first. Roman registered the difference just as the bay doors started rolling open. All five of them. Everyone stopped working, looking nervously at each other as two of the large trucks rolled out, making the floor rumble. A moment later they heard cars screaming into the parking lot, their brakes squealing and doors slamming before another truck pulled out. And another. And another. Ami’s face was white, indicating things with Chris weren’t quite as casual as she’d implied. Roman hoped his own face hadn’t gone as pale. “That can’t be good,” Tobie said, half reverent, half horrified. “Back to work, people,” Roman snapped. “They’re doing their jobs, we’ll do ours.” Slowly they went back to their tasks. Jacob was on duty. Roman kept packing and organizing, ignoring the thought that ran through his head on a constant loop. Jacob was on duty. Whatever was happening that required five fire trucks, Jacob was right in the middle of it. In danger. Roman kept working. He didn’t notice Jamie’s disappearance until he stuck his head back in the kitchen. “You guys had better come see this.” They followed him back out into the hall, where there was an enormous flat screen television mounted over the bar. Presumably it was there for people at events to keep an eye on whatever sporting event they were being forced to miss, but Jamie had found the remote and turned it to the local affiliate. “The fire broke out sometime this morning,” the reporter explained, his voice as tense and shaky as his grip on the microphone, “but officials on the scene suspect it had burned unhindered for almost an hour before it was noticed.” The camera cut away to a long, panoramic helicopter shot showing a huge industrial complex, black smoke rolling out of it in waves, choking out the bright fall sunshine. Flames licked up through the heart of the smoke like some demon lord shrouded in darkness, alive and hungry. “The eight-alarm fire is drawing in companies from all over the Northeast and the nearby suburbs. At the moment, it is contained in two large warehouses, but authorities are concerned about the risk of chemical poisoning if the fire should reach the main manufacturing building and the chemical vats housed there.” He droned on, his audience rapt in awe and horror. It wasn’t until they cut to the reporter on the ground, broadcasting from in front of the fire trucks there, that it became

horribly real. “My God,” Mo breathed. “That’s one of ours.” The Bald hill logo was clearly visible on the truck over the reporter’s shoulder. “They’re in that?” Lisa sounded incredulous. “We have to help them,” Jamie insisted. “Don’t be ridiculous,” Tobie protested. “What are you going to do, steal some gear from downstairs and go over there? You’ll just get in the way and get the real firemen killed.” The rest started arguing, but Roman didn’t hear any of it, eyes searching the screen for any sight of Jacob, any sign that he was safe and whole. There was nothing, just firemen running back and forth, the heavy protective gear making them all anonymous. Finally he couldn’t take it anymore. “Stop it!” he cut into the bickering, startling everyone. “We can’t help with the fire, but we can help the firemen.” He sounded more reasonable than he felt, the controlled fugue he fell into during service taking him now. “Tobie, take the girls to Costco. Get cases of water and boxes of granola bars, nuts, anything to help keep their energy up. Mo, you and Jamie go downstairs. I know they have at least two monster coffeemakers down there. Get them up here and we’ll get those and the three up here brewing. As soon as those are done, we’re going, so don’t waste time, Tobie.” With jobs to do, everyone focused on their duties, grateful for Roman’s leadership. As soon as Tobie pulled off in the van, Roman followed Mo and Jamie down the steep stairs to the now-empty garage and across to the office. The white-haired man behind the counter wasn’t anyone Roman recognized, but Roman had learned the direct approach worked best with these guys. “Hi, I’m Roman Geary. We’re in the kitchen upstairs. Did my people come through?” “Yeah, they said they were getting something they’d left down here?” “We’re going to take stuff down to the guys. We just need to borrow your coffeemakers.” That seemed to reassure him. “That’s kind of you. The Red Cross gets so busy with the victims they tend to give the firefighters short shrift.” “Is there any way you can let the chief know we’re coming? I don’t want to have any trouble getting to them.” “No problem. I’ll call it in and let the cops know to let you through the cordon.” He grabbed a pen and paper. “What’s the make and license number?” Roman recited it, feeling overwhelming relief at the man’s simple acceptance. When he finished, Roman offered his hand. “Thank you so much. I really appreciate it, Mr…” The man took his hand in a firm grip. “Brabanek. Peter Brabanek.” “Oh! Then you’re—” “Bill’s my son, yeah.” He shrugged. “I never even made it to deputy. We’re proud of what he’s done here.” “Even on a day like today?” Roman had to ask. “Especially on a day like today. His mother and I are scared to death, but we know he’s got a good crew, well trained, who can count on each other. They’re good men doing a hell of a job.” Peter cocked his head to study Roman a moment. “This your first time involved with a firefighter, son?” “Is it that obvious?”

“Only to someone who’s been around a while. Let me give you some advice.” He leaned forward on the counter. “Accept it or get out now. These guys are all the same, and the women no different from the men. This is who they are, and you aren’t going to change them. If you can’t live with that, then it’s best to get out now and save you both a lot of heartache.” Roman was taken back by the blunt observation. “I’ll…keep that in mind.” The elder Brabanek shrugged again. “You will or you won’t. Young people never listen to the voice of experience. Better get going. They’ll have use for those supplies.” He turned and limped painfully to the communication desk, Roman dismissed. Peter Brabanek had put the situation in pretty simple terms. All the rest, the petty stuff like who paid and where they slept and if they got a dog, all that was meaningless trivia. The real question was could he be involved with a man who one night might not ever come home from work again. Roman followed the others back upstairs. The TV was still on, unwatched as it replayed the same film clips again and again. Roman switched it off, half afraid of it showing anything new. The coffee finished just as Tobie pulled up with the other supplies. “Mo,” Roman directed when they got out of the van, “you’re with me and Tobie. Jamie, you and the girls finish up here. You’re in charge.” “But, boss—” “No buts. Your arm’s too weak, and I won’t put Ami or Lisa in harm’s way. If you want to help, talk to Mr. Brabanek downstairs and see what you can do to help him.” Tobie and Mo had thrown the last case of Styrofoam cups from storage into the back of the van. He followed them, taking the driver’s seat. “We’ll call when we can.” They were tense and silent on the drive, following the black plume of smoke down the highway. Tobie glanced back at Mo in the jumpseat before saying quietly, “I’m sure he’s fine.” Roman tightened his grip on the wheel. “You don’t know that.” “Still—” “No, Tobie, don’t pretend. This is what it is. He’s putting his life on the line, and for all I know, he’s already hurt. Or worse.” “They aren’t all like this.” “No. Most of them are small and pointless. Trash fires, cats up trees, idiots who set their garages on fire frying turkeys. But there will be one, there will always be one like this.” She couldn’t argue with him. He wished she would. The police stopped them half a mile from the fire. Roman rolled down the window. “We’re from Bald Hill. They called it in.” The officer consulted someone on his walkie-talkie, then waved them through. “Go straight down Archer and turn onto Twenty-Third down to the end. You can set up in the street there, but stay out of the lot. And stay out of the way.” Roman nodded and pulled through. “Friendly,” Mo snarked from the back. “He’s just doing his job,” Roman warned, “and he’s right. Once we get down there, we stay where the man said. We’re here to help, not interfere.” He hoped he could take his own advice.

They found the place the officer had indicated and pulled into a spot left empty in the evacuation of the surrounding houses. While Mo and Tobie set up the coffee urns in the sliding door and the water and snacks out the back, Roman went in search of the white helmet of the chief. Brabanek was watching for him. “Letting you rent from us is paying off in unexpected ways, Mr. Geary.” He accepted the coffee Roman had brought him. “Sure I can’t convince you to stay on?” “Emergency support service is a little out of our line. But I’m glad we could repay your kindness.” Brabanek sipped at the coffee, wincing at the heat. “Hope you don’t mind, but we’re going to send you guys from some of the other companies, too. They need it as much as ours do.” “Not a problem. We brought plenty.” It didn’t take long for word to get out, and they were inundated with fire fighters grabbing a drink and a snack before heading back in. There were familiar faces among all the smoke-stained strangers, but Jacob wasn’t one of them. Roman kept pouring coffee and smiling. One wall of the warehouse collapsed. All the men at the van froze for a moment until Roman swore he heard the building swallow. Suddenly all of them were in motion, shoving Roman, Tobie and Mo behind the van, shouting at them to get down, cover their heads. The warehouse exploded. The firefighter sheltering him, a woman from the Falls company, muttered “Backdraft,” to him as though that would mean more to him than the title of a Kurt Russell movie and then took off, running back towards the resurgent fire, following all the others who had been on break, leaving the restaurant people on their own. “Jesus,” Tobie breathed. “Our insurance agent is going to hate us.” Sure enough, the explosion had blown out the windshield and all the windows on the side of the van facing the fire. “Was anyone inside that?” Mo asked, horrified. They hadn’t seen Jacob all afternoon. Roman couldn’t stop his feet from taking him back to the lot gate, staring desperately into the inferno for any sign of his lover. The men on break were charging back in now, returned to anonymity by the safety equipment they had thrown back on in practiced haste, shouting orders and instructions back and forth and quickly lost against the backdrop of the fire. He only noticed the three figures coming out of the fire because they were going the wrong way. Two people, one smaller than the other, helped a third along, his left leg dragging along behind him. EMS workers were already waiting with a stretcher as Brabanek joined them, confirming they were Bald Hill crew. They helped the injured man onto the stretcher, removing his helmet to reveal Chris, his face a rictus of pain. The other two pulled off their gear to reveal Annie and, finally, Jacob. Roman couldn’t decide whether to laugh or cry. Brabanek spoke to both of them briefly, whatever he said making Jacob’s head snap up to find Roman with unerring precision. The chief turned his attention back to Chris as

Annie and Jacob shrugged out of their heavy coats, heading in Roman’s direction. “I hear you have coffee,” Annie shouted over the roar of the fire as she got closer. “Only for heroes,” Roman quipped. “Think you qualify?” “Nah. All in a day’s work.” She grinned. “Well, I suppose we can make an exception for you. Go ask Tobie for the special.” She clapped him tiredly on the shoulder as she passed him. “What about me?” Jacob asked with more restraint. “I’ll see to you myself.” Jacob didn’t seem to be in a playful mood. “What are you doing here, Roman?” “Seeing if I can live with this.” He gestured at the conflagration raging behind them. “And can you?” “I don’t know.” When Jacob’s face hardened, he hurried on. “But I do know that I can’t live without you. When I thought I’d lost you before we’d even gotten started… I guess what I’m saying is yeah, my personal life is pretty settled. If you still want me around, that is.” Jacob stared at him as though he’d lost his mind. “If we weren’t in public, I’d kiss you senseless right now.” Roman grinned. “How about the next best thing. Coffee?” Instead Jacob caught Roman’s arm and pulled him into a fierce embrace, burying his face in Roman’s shoulder. “About time the damned fire gave me something back,” he said just loud enough for Roman to hear. Thinking of his own restaurant, a burnt out shell, he held Jacob hard. It had given them both something. The End About the Author: Grey was born the eldest daughter of a Protestant minister in New England and was raised in various small towns throughout the USA Northeast and Midwest, where there was little to do but live in her imagination. She was a voracious reader, and started writing at an early age, settling on that as her life’s work before higher education led her astray. After attending state and Ivy League universities to earn degrees in History, Anthropology and Folklife Studies, she settled in suburban Pennsylvania to start her own family. There she rediscovered her love of the written word, and has been writing ever since, putting out seven novels and three stories in anthologies since 2005. She’s been in love four times, had her heart broken twice, broke another’s heart once, and is currently working on her happily ever after. For more on Grey and her thoughts and experiences on writing and the big wide world of publishing, visit her website at www.greygerou.com or on MySpace at www.myspace.com/authorgreygerou

Five-Alarm Lover Michael Barnette Chapter One Smoke spun in a sinuous dance through the mine shaft, the glow of the distant fire turning the particle-laden air a ruddy orange. Delmar ‘Del’ Preston drove the firecar. His partner Rio Martinez worked the fire control system, which wouldn’t be activated until they reached the actual blaze. Del’s gaze was on the scanner, searching for any sign of survivors. He saw nothing to indicate anyone alive in the immediate vicinity and sent the vehicle rolling forward. The communications suite crackled. “Fire containment team one, this is containment base, do you copy?” His commanding officer’s voice was distorted by the endurium ore through which the mine shaft was sunk. The fact it was the Fire Operations manager, Mr. Sullivan, talking to him alerted Del that something unusual was going on. Del tapped the side of his helmet to activate the outgoing communications signal. “This is team one, go ahead base.” “Team one, be advised we have a report executives of Rowland Mining were on a tour when the fire alarms sounded.” “We copy, base. What are their positions?” “Unknown, team one. No itinerary was filed.” Del turned to Rio, and knew his own expression matched her troubled one. She shook her head in disgust. “Suits,” she muttered. Del nodded his agreement. The corporate types never understood how dangerous a mine could be; all they noticed were profit and loss margins. He keyed his comm again and asked, “Base, has anyone heard from the executives since the fire started?” “Negative team one. There’s been no communication from anyone since the alarms began.” He expected no less. Endurium in the raw ore stage burned hot, and the smoke it gave off was toxic enough to prove fatal in an instant to anyone without the proper breathing equipment. Fatal, for instance, to a bunch of suits roaming around in an ordinary transport. “Those fools probably didn’t have protective gear over their suits,” Rio remarked. “Probably not. But we have to locate them anyway.” She snorted. “You mean whatever’s left of them.” “Yeah.” Del slowed the firecar to a crawl as they reached the junction between the main shaft and three descending shafts. Two of the mine tunnels were fully involved while the third, and last, appeared cool with no trace of flames visible. If they couldn’t get the other fires contained, it would be a simple matter of time before the whole mine was on fire and if that happened the entire operation would be a

loss. Worse, the fire could spread through the entire moon. Their job was to see that didn’t happen. “Team one, this is base do you copy?” “We copy base, go ahead.” “Scans show the fire is moving toward the main tunnel. Our information indicates the fire is widespread and heating up.” “We’re at the junction of the tunnels, base. We can see the fire in two of the shafts. The third shaft is cool. Request a second team to assist. We can’t tackle two fires alone.” “Base to team one, requesting approval for a second team to assist. Stand by.” Rio shook her head. “Bureaucrats will be the death of everyone. We’ve got a huge fire here and they want to discuss it in committee.” “Same crap, different day,” Del replied. He let the car creep forward, heading down the central shaft. If they could contain the central fire it could prevent the last shaft from igniting. “They said to wait.” He glanced at Rio. “When have I ever obeyed a stupid order?” She grinned. “Never.” “So you think I’m going to start now?” She chuckled. “Silly me. Guess that would be a ‘Hell no’, as usual.” “Damn straight,” he agreed, as the firecar entered the mineshaft. Though the vehicle was designed to penetrate and contain mine fires, the heat inside increased as the car rolled into the inferno. “We’re not going to find anyone alive,” Rio stated matter-of-factly. The walls were burning, the endurium beginning to ooze from the ore as droplets of cherry red liquid. In its natural form, endurium melted at about the same temperature as iron, which was still more than hot enough to sear the flesh from a person’s bones. “You never know. If they’re in the third shaft they might be fine. If they made it to one of the safe rooms off any shaft, they could be alive.” Rio snorted her opinion of his remark. “How’s the hull temperature?” Del asked. “Good. The external temperature is right at fifteen hundred and ten degrees Celsius.” “Damn hot,” he remarked. The pinging sound of melted endurium as it hit the hull of the firecar made Del glance at the readouts on his side of the firecar. The hot metal caused the car’s exterior armor to unevenly heat which created the sound. They both knew the sound from far too many mine fires, but with such fires, one could qualify as too many. It could be the fire that killed you. “Rio, are you going to get the foam spraying or do you like the thought of us overheating and burning down here?” “Sorry. “ She pushed the buttons to activate the firecar’s foam jets. “I forgot they don’t automatically activate anymore.” “You forgot?” he shook his head in disgust, but let it drop. There wasn’t any point in getting into an argument. Distractions like that could get them killed. A hellish rain of ash mixed with instantly solidified bits of endurium pattered on the firecar as they continued forward. The jets of flame-suffocating chemicals damped down the fire as soon as it touched the superheated rock. Loud pops and crump sounds filled

the mine from the sudden cooling. Del triggered the forward force field to protect the viewscreen from damage, and glanced at the power readout as he drove. It remained in the green which was good because the last time they’d dealt with a mine fire the thing had redlined before they’d finished the job. “Team one, this is team two, do you copy?” “We copy, team two.” “We’re at the junction of the three shafts. Which one do you want us to take?” “The first one, team two. We took the central shaft.” “We copy, team one, we’re taking the first shaft.” He peered at the seething flames. The fire danced and wove in his sight. He blinked, stared, not sure what he was seeing, but it looked just like a man moving through the fire. “What the hell!” Rio gasped, crossing herself as someone, or rather something composed of fire ran toward the firecar. Del got a good look at it too. A burning human shape made of fire ran past the viewscreen and vanished from his line of sight. Del and Rio exchanged looks. “I’m not going to ask if you saw it,” Del stated. “Saw what?” Rio remarked. “Exactly.” The firecar climbed over a pile of debris, the treads crushing the burning stone beneath them. Something else rushed past them, heading into the burning mine. Del noticed Rio push the foam sprayer button, upping the flow of the stuff. “Dial it back down. We’re probably seeing eddies in the fire from the chemicals we’re blasting the ore with.” She stared at him. “Sure Del. That’s what we saw, an eddy in the fire,” she agreed, with about as much conviction as he felt, which was none. They’d both seen something running through the fire. A man who appeared to be composed of fire. Neither of them were about to mention it in their report. You didn’t report things that made no sense in official paperwork. Not if you wanted to stay out of the mental rehabilitation ward. Their firecar shuddered and rocked an instant before a boom roared around their vehicle. More debris fell onto the firecar from overhead. Del exchanged a look with Rio, the woman’s eyes wide with nervous shock. “What the hell? Was that an explosion?” “Yes,” Del replied. Teeth gritted, body breaking out in a cold sweat the fire itself hadn’t caused, he gripped the control yoke of the fire car tighter. He’d spent a few years in the unified military, he knew explosions and the sounds they made. The firecar rocked wildly a second time. Rocks and molten metal spilled off the forcefield in superheated hunks. Del glanced at the power reading which remained steady. “No fucking way is anyone alive down here,” Rio remarked as she checked the readings on her console. “We’re undamaged.” “Power’s holding up,” Del informed her as he slowed the firecar. Visibility was getting worse. He could feel the control yoke jerking in his hands as the car plowed through piled debris.

“Jets are all working, temperature is at fifteen hundred and seventy Celsius.” The car rocked as they collided with something that almost pitched Rio from her seat. “Shit!” Del sighed. Rio had a bad habit of never putting on her safety harness, but she was frantically strapping in now. “What I want to know,” Del remarked, “is exactly what’s exploding down here. They’re not using any explosives in the mine, so what’s going on?” “No clue,” Rio remarked. “Maybe some gas pockets the fire’s setting off?” “Yeah, maybe,” Del agreed. He keyed his comm to make a report to their base. “Team one to base.” “This is base, go ahead one.” “We heard several explosions. We surmise gas pockets which blew when they got too hot.” “Copy team one, we heard the blasts also. Proceed with care, base out.” Del frowned. “Ooookaaaay then.” “Thanks for permission to get ourselves killed,” Rio commented, her annoyance on par with Del’s irritation. They reached an area their maps said held one of the safe rooms which were, technically, designed as havens within the mine in case something catastrophic happened. Del knew the specifications for the rooms, and didn’t count on anyone being alive. The fire was too intense for the safe room to keep anyone safe. No one could survive this. And yet he had to make sure. He stopped the firecar to allow the chemicals to extinguish the flames nearest the safe room door. “I’m checking for survivors,” he informed Rio as he swung his seat around. The gear to help them get survivors out of the place, as well was the airlock system which allowed them to leave the car without exposing anyone inside the firecar to toxic fumes, was located in the rear. “You’re nuts, Del. There isn’t anyone left alive down here and you know it.” He did know it, and yet he had a hunch there were survivors inside the room. “We’ve got to do our job, Rio. Which includes looking for survivors even if we know it’s a waste of time.” “Yeah, sure, whatever. I’ll wait while you toast your buns.” “Thanks,” he replied. Del grabbed a set of protection gear for any living person he managed to locate. Ready, Del stepped into the airlock, cycled it shut, and waited for the air to be evacuated from the tiny chamber. He cranked open the exterior door. The heat of the fire hit him through his suit, sweat standing out instantly on his face, trickling down his back and along his ribs. He activated the suit’s cooling unit. The thing wouldn’t give him more than ten or fifteen minutes of respite from the heat, but the lowered temperature was a blessing for that short time. He hurried to the safe room door, finding the door warped, rivulets of melted endurium flowing down the surface in a glowing red stream, forming a deadly serpent of molten metal. He put his faith in his suit and shoved at the door, which buckled, metal giving, but not fully ready to surrender its place in the doorframe. More hot metal spattered over his suit. Del shoved harder, felt the door give again, but it wouldn’t fall. He put his shoulder

into it and shoved, the metal groaning, another shower of molten endurium spattering over his protective gear. Del muttered a curse under his breath as the heat of the liquefied metal raised the temperature inside his suit. Though it couldn’t burn through, the more metal that landed on him the less time he would get out of the cooling unit. The door tumbled inward to collide against the inner door of the airlock. Drops of hot metal spattered his suit as he stepped inside. A warning indicator flashed to amber in the right corner of his helmet. The cooling unit was starting to fail and wouldn’t hold up much longer under these conditions. Rio’s right, no way is anyone alive inside here. But that didn’t negate the fact it was his job to make sure. Del stepped over a glowing pool of liquefied endurium inside the door of the safe room. Toxic smoke swirled around him, the ore inside the room smoldering, but not yet burning. He reached the inner door. If he opened it and there were living people inside, the deadly smoke could kill them. But if he didn’t get any survivors out soon, the safe room itself could catch and burn. “Damned if I do, damned if I don’t,” Del muttered and tried the door. It was stuck, the heat already warping the metal. If they were serious about protecting anyone down here they’d use endurium plates for the doors and walls. Like everything else, it’s for the sake of appearances, not to save anyone. The corporation doesn’t care about anything but profit margins and let’s face it, people are cheap to replace. He shoved the door, tried the lock on the hatch again and felt it give, the metal groaning as he turned the lock. “Okay, we do this the other way… maybe.” He focused his mind and made a shoving motion with both hands at the door. Nothing happened. “Damn it,” he grumbled and tried again. This time the door shook, though he wasn’t touching it. He gave the thing a push, this time with his shoulder and his limited telekinetic ability combined. This time the door swung inward. The room beyond was dark, the power outage a result of the fire. After the blast furnace of the mine shaft, this room felt cool, not that it would remain cool for long. He stepped into the space, switching his suit from fire dampening visuals to allow him to spot the cooler bodies of people. “Holy…” A man staggered toward him, coughing, eyes watering. “Help us…” the suit begged, his arms out to Del in supplication. All Del had time to register was a handsome, sootsmudged face, blond hair and pleading blue eyes. He whipped out a protective suit, got it opened and practically shoved the man inside. The blond sagged in his embrace, trembling with shock. Del picked him up. “It’s okay. You’re safe now and everything’s going to be fine.” “My assistant. He’s hurt. Please, I’ll be all right. Go find him. Please go find Frank.” He’s worried about someone else. That’s unusual for a suit. They’re usually worried about no one but themselves. “Don’t worry, I’ll find him. But I have to get you to safety first.” Del tapped the side of his helmet. “Rio, we’ve got a survivor. Start up a medical pod, we’ve got to get him inside to mitigate the affect anything he’s inhaled. Drop another protective suit in the lock. I’ll be there in a few.” “Holy crap!” Rio’s voice said though his comm. “Leave me here. Go find Frank,” the suit begged. “I can’t do that. Regulations. But I’ll find him as soon as you’re safe,” Del informed

the blond guy. He hurried the man he’d rescued to the firecar, put him into the airlock and left him there for Rio to deal with. Grabbing the other package of protective gear he hurried back to the safe room and found another man lying on the ground. He shoved him into the protective suit and carried him to the firecar. “Got another delivery for you, Rio.” Del shoved the man into the airlock of the firecar and raced back into the safe room. He searched, scanning the room, walking around inside, but found no one else. He returned to the firecar and closed the airlock behind him. “How are they doing?” He glanced at the rear of the firecar where the small medical bay was contained. He could see their patients in the plastic bubbles of the medical pods beyond Rio who took up the rest of the cramped space. “They both have smoke inhalation, no surprise there, but I think they’re going to make it, God alone knows why,” Rio told him as she attached an IV to the pod of the second man she’d rescued. Del moved closer to the medical bay, peering over Rio’s shoulder at the two men. The second man he’d rescued had a few nasty burns on his arm, the fabric of his suit melted to the skin, the other man appeared in much better shape, though he coughed and his eyes teared profusely. “Are they stable enough for us to work the fire, or do we need to call for team three and get out of here?” “They’re stable, go fight the fire, Del. I’ll take care of them. If you need me, holler and I’ll come run my station.” “Will do.” He returned to the driver’s seat, his mind drifting to the handsome blond, wondering who he was, what his job with Rowland might be. Not that it mattered. He’d never see the guy again. Which was a damn shame; the guy was really good looking with a very kissable mouth. He touched the side of his helmet, to make a quick report to base. “Base this is team one, come in.” “This is containment base, go on team one.” “We’ve rescued two men, they appear to be part of the executive branch as they’re in business suits. Names unknown, they’re alive and in stable condition.” “Team one, proceed with efforts to contain fire. Return to base when the fire is out, or if the condition of the men deteriorates.” “Roger that, base, team one out.” Del put the firecar into gear and rolled forward, leaving the pool of chemicals which had suffocated the fire, and probably added to the respiratory distress of the two men they’d found. “On the good side, that puddle of stuff we’re leaving there will keep the fire from reigniting in that area.” “Yeah, until it dries out from the heat.” “Should give us a little extra time to work the deep fire,” Del commented. “We were going to do that anyway, weren’t we?” “Unless this car starts to give out on us, or I start to see cave ins, yes.” The car lurched, the treads hitting an uneven surface that pitched the nose of the car downward at a steep angle. Del stopped the firecar and reversed it, studying the seething flame, trying to determine both how large and how deep the hole might be and if they dared keep going. The ore burned at a steady rate, so there shouldn’t have been any holes

in the floor of the shaft. Unless of course one of the booms they’d heard had been a gas pocket contained under the bottom of the shaft. He activated the scanner and frowned. The hole was deep, too deep for the firecar. “Team one to fire base, come in,” he said. “We read you team one,” Mr. Sullivan at the other end replied through the crackle and pop of static. “We’ve got a hole in the floor, fire base. Readings indicate it’s almost fifty meters deep and one hundred meters wide, with a steep climb on the far end.” “Team one, await instructions.” “Roger base.” “How are they doing, Rio?” “Good enough. I’ve administered painkillers to the guy with the burns. Blondie was trying to talk to me but I’ve got him to stay quiet, finally. I pumped them both full of detoxifiers because of the smoke. They seem to be breathing better.” “Good.” “We’re stuck until they give us permission to turn around?” she asked. “If they let us turn around. I don’t think the firecar can climb the grade on the far side of this hole,” Del admitted. “And if they tell me to go forward, I’m telling them more of the floor is giving way. No way in hell are we going into that pit.” * Aaron could hear the two firefighters talking, but he couldn’t sit up to look at them. The medical pod he was inside prohibited any movement more extensive than breathing. Which was just as well since breathing didn’t qualify as the easiest thing to do at the moment. His chest felt tight, and his lungs hurt with each breath he took. The odor of the fire clung to his clothes, a bitter, acrid stink which made him slightly nauseous. Or perhaps the nausea came from being scared out of his mind for…however long he’d been trapped in the room. He tried to peer at the man in the pod beside him. Aaron thought it might be his personal assistant, Frank Cordwainer, but he couldn’t be sure. His eyes were streaming a constant flow of tears from the irritation of being in the smoke. He shut them, trying to ease the hurt, but open or closed hardly mattered. They both felt as if powdered glass had been poured in them. His head ached, from the smoke—or maybe from the horror of his coworkers’ deaths—Aaron didn’t know. What he did know was that he didn’t want to try reaching out with his psi-talent to see if the man beside him was Frank or not. Who else could it be? There wasn’t anyone else in the safe room but the two of us. He lay there while whatever drugs were in the IV flowed into him. Some of the terror had begun to fade, but the terrible memories of the event remained etched into his mind as if they’d been burned inside his head by a laser. The images he would never be able to forget played through his mind like a vid on endless loop. His bosses, Jamison Leigh and Fred Stanton got out of the car to speak to a pair of miners. The four men had been talking about the uneven quality of the ore in this set of shafts. Everything had been perfectly normal. Just another day in the mine, another boring trip to check on the progress of the workers with he and Frank mostly along for the ride. The other two men were the quality control experts. Aaron himself knew little about that side of the business. His job was to help control operational costs versus profits

from the final product. Lately there’d been a drop in overall profits, the mine no longer giving them a ten to one return on the investment. Something had to be done, of course. But first they had to discover why the mine wasn’t returning the profits it had even three weeks ago. Since he wasn’t knowledgeable about the ore or the metal itself, Aaron and Frank had remained in the car together. They were inside the car discussing… trivial things. Aaron couldn’t remember exactly what they’d been talking about. Something to do with sports, he was almost certain. Jamison and Fred were examining core samples from the shafts at a narrow table set up to one side of the mine. Nothing appeared different from the last four times they’d come down the shafts. But something was different. Aaron felt it crawling through his thoughts. A strange hostility coming from somewhere nearby. He’d tried to pinpoint the location, but it was as though his telempathic ability was being blocked. Diverted from the source of the anger, the rage. He could feel it, but he couldn’t figure out who it was coming from. He’d been about to say something to Frank when a brilliant red and orange flash caught his attention. The rage he’d sensed had become a conflagration. When he turned toward the overpowering hate, the mine was filled with flames and the screams of Jamison and Fred as the pair of men caught fire. They and the two miners burned in front of their eyes. He’d never forget the anguish and terror on Fred’s face, or the way Jamison had screamed as the fire took him. He’d also never forget the screaming agony blasting into his mind from their deaths. He’d never experienced death through his psi-talent, and he hoped he’d never go through such an horrific ordeal as long as he lived. He remembered the first blast of heat, the intensity of the flame, but he didn’t understand how it started. Aaron couldn’t, for the life of him, figure out what caused the mine to erupt into a lethal inferno. He’d been afraid, screaming for his life, panicked and scared, and not paying a lot of attention to the world around him. Not with the intense agony of death by fire etched into his psyche. Frank, who’d been driving, struggled to turn the overheating tour car around in the mine shaft, but he was so terrified he couldn’t keep the car from colliding with the walls. How they’d gotten out of there Aaron didn’t know, all he remembered was echoing pain as Jamison and Fred died, and the tour car ricocheting off the walls a few times. Frank sent the car barreling down the corridor so fast the motor screamed and the treads of the vehicle left gouges in the floor. They still had twenty meters to go before they reached the safe room when the tour car’s motor baked, the plastic components melting from the strain on the motor. On foot they’d run from the fast-approaching flames, Frank almost dragging him along. They’d gotten the airlock closed as the first licking tongues of death seared the door. It had happened so fast they’d both stood in the narrow space between the fire raging outside and the safe room, too stunned to move. Aaron, horrified over what he’d experienced, had turned away from the door and vomited, the shock and terror too much for him. They’d stood there until they heard the airlock door starting to buckle, and a few drops of hot metal spattered Frank, who’d screamed in pain and run for the second door. They’d no more than spun the lock of the interior door of the safe room closed when the lights went out, leaving them in pitch darkness, with a holocaust of destruction rampaging through the mine.

Scared, alone and with Frank who was in terrible pain from his burns, they’d lost track of how long they’d been down there. He remembered hearing the sound of the fireman coming in to rescue them. He remembered running toward the sound that promised help and safety. He also remembered powerful arms catching him, sure, gentle hands putting him into the protective gear and carrying him to the firecar. He remembered a handsome face the color of coffee-with-cream smiling reassurance at him, assuring him he was safe. Safe… They’d been rescued. And now some idiot in charge of fire containment was hesitating to give the order to bring them back to safety. “Hey, mister fireman!” he called, his voice sounded strange. A rough whisper of sound. The deep voice that went with the gentle hands called back, “What is it?” “Tell them Aaron Halford says you’re coming in. My assistant is hurt, he needs medical care, and I want out of this mine.” “The man has spoken,” the woman Aaron thought might be named Rio said. “Containment base,” he heard the man say, “this is containment team one, we’re coming in per orders from an Aaron Halford. He’s one of the people we rescued.” The reply, when it came, was hard for Aaron to understand, there was so much static and distortion. He was able to make out the words, “Return to base.” Relieved, he let whatever medication the pod was feeding him through an IV take hold and pull him into a troubled sleep where a being of flame ran through a mine shaft, its hands setting fire to everything they touched.

Chapter Two Del pressed his way through the crowd in the club, heading for the bar and the cold beer. He felt he deserved a little relaxation after three days of hard work getting the fire in the mine under control. Not to mention saving the lives of four very grateful executives. He smiled at the thought of the bonus he’d been given though he’d just been doing his job, nothing more. He bet Rio had hers spent. The woman went through more clothes and shoes than a family of twelve, but that was her joy in this usually dull and joyless place. Living on a mining colony could get painfully boring, and it made for depressed people. There were no outdoor spaces, no greenery to look at, no pets to play with. Not even fish because the corporation running the colony didn’t want to spend the money on ‘luxuries’ for their grunt workers. The one exception they’d made was the combination bar, club and restaurant where everyone went to unwind. Del missed animals, and trees. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen a tree or listened to the wind rustling the leaves, or the sigh of a breeze through pines. He glanced up at the neon palm trees which were scattered through the club. They hardly counted. They were nothing but wire frame works and lights. In a way, Del thought they made it worse because they tried to look like a tree and served to remind the viewer about real, honest-to-God growing things. When Del got to the bar, he waved to the woman behind it, indicating his choice of beer by pointing at the tap in front of him. She poured him the beer and he passed his hand over the scanner, the identity chip—IDC—embedded in the back of his hand deducting the cost of the beer from his corporate account. Ten bucks for a beer. Like everything else at the mining colony, the price had increased overnight. The corporation had to make back their losses from the mine fire somehow, even if it bled their employees dry. Del searched the room and found an empty table, dropping into the cheap synthleather covered seat which squeaked beneath his behind. He took a drink of his beer and took up his favorite pastime, people watching. It was one of the few free entertainments around. Everything else cost money, but the corporation hadn’t figured out a way to charge anyone for watching their fellow workers. Not yet anyway, though Del supposed the clever money grubbers were probably working on that too. They’d already figured out a base charge for every breath you took, so it made sense they’d figure out other ways to get fees from their workers. Pretty soon, if things kept up, everyone would be working for nothing but room and board. At that point Del would move on. He was a firefighter, not a miner, and he’d long since completed his minimum two-year stay on-world. Del watched a couple of miners, deep diggers from their heavy builds and pale skin. They were in fine shape, their jeans clinging to hard butts, t-shirts stretched across broad, muscular chests. He could even overlook the fact they had faces like ogres from a fantasy vid, because their bodies were such a turn on for him. I could go for some of that, he mused. Hell, I’d settle for a skinny piece of ass in a suit if he’d come back to my place and let me fuck him. Which reminded him of the

sweet-mouthed little blond he’d rescued from the mine fire. He sure was damn pretty. And not a bad guy for a suit. He was actually worried about that other guy down there. I can so picture that sexy mouth of his wrapped around my cock. Too bad it won’t happen anymore than me taking one of those deep miners home will happen. His cock went hard and he looked away from the miners before they noticed him staring at them. If they were gay or bi, his staring wouldn’t matter, but if they were straight… well he’d rather not lose his recent bonus over a fight in the club. The mining company had been careful to select people who fit every sexual orientation, but no matter how cautious they were, some boneheads managed to slip through the cracks in their personality assessment process. He’d been in one fight with a homophobe already and he didn’t want to risk another confrontation. While he wasn’t the biggest or strongest man at the mining colony, he was probably the only one with actual combat experience. Though miners were a tough lot, their sort of rough and tumble didn’t prepare them for the kind of fighting he knew, all of it dirty and deadly as a mine collapse. Sure, there were a lot of gay men on the colony, but most of them were in relationships. He’d been in one too, until Lon had pulled stakes and moved to another colony a few months ago. The asshat hadn’t even said goodbye. So much for love, Del mused, lips twisted into a bitter frown. He’d loved Lon, but apparently the other man’s declarations of mutual affection were a load of shit. Del picked up his beer and took a couple of swallows, almost choking when a slim hand touched his shoulder and warm breath tickled his ear. “Del, babe, what are you doing alone on a Friday night?” Rio, playing games. She knew he was gay, and she also knew how difficult it was for him to find a date, regardless what night of the week he had off. He swallowed the beer, set the glass down and wiped his mouth. “Rio, one of these days I’m going to screw up when you do that and hit you.” She grinned. “I’ll risk it, because I love startling you.” She took a seat across from him. “Want to hang out together?” He shrugged, trying to ignore the fact she had enough cleavage showing to leave little to anyone’s imagination. In fact, the scant bits of fabric she wore left hardly any of her to the imagination. And the clear plastic coat she wore over it managed to make her appear even more indecent. He wondered why the local cops never picked her up. Then again she’d dated most of them at one time or another. He set his beer down. “You don’t have a date either?” She shook her head. “Not anymore.” Del raised an eyebrow, silently urging her to explain. At least talking was something to do on a scale slightly better than sitting there feeling lonely, which was rapidly shading toward a mental pity party complete with ‘should haves’ and ‘wish I coulds’. “I had a date with this suit from the front office. Real jerk. He didn’t even want to take me to dinner. He wanted to go right to my place to fuck. My place, not his. Skuzzbucket. Probably gets off on slumming with the workers.” She sniffed as if she might be on the verge of crying and picked up Del’s beer. She took a sip and set it down. “He makes good money; he could at least take a girl out first.” Del frowned at his almost-empty beer and shook his head. Ten creds a glass and she helps herself. He sighed and finished off the beer, considered having a second one while

Rio muttered obscenities about the suit who’d expected something for nothing. He couldn’t be too mad at Rio. Hell he couldn’t really be mad at the only real friend he had in this place. When Lon had dumped him, it had been Rio who showed up at his place with an illicit bottle of whiskey and two plastic glasses. “Some people,” he murmured in commiseration. “Yeah, some people,” she agreed, her eyes following a miner with shaggy dark hair not unlike the way Del wore his. I hope she isn’t going to come on to me again. She knows I’m gay, not bi. Her gaze returned to Del and she gave him a slow, little smile meant to be sexually appealing. Here it comes. Any second she’s going to make a pass at me. Maybe I need to request a different partner. Someone who can take a hint, or a guy who isn’t interested in hooking up. She’s my only real friend, and I wish she’d stop trying to grant me a mercy fuck. I don’t need it. Time to change the subject, and fast. “I bet you can find someone else before the night’s over,” Del suggested, wishing she’d take the hint. He didn’t have a hope of picking up a guy for the night with Rio sitting across from him. It wasn’t that he didn’t like Rio, he did—as a friend, his best friend—but he spent his workdays with her. When he was off shift he wanted to spend time with other people, not with the same crew he saw every day. He also made it a rule not to get involved with a direct coworker. “I’m looking,” Rio replied. “I’m just not finding. I’m sure you’re familiar with the problem.” “Yeah,” he agreed. “But if you sit here with me people will think we’re together, which won’t help either of us.” Her smile slid into a frown. “In other words, get lost, huh Del?” “That’s not what I said.” “Sure it was, you’re just a lot more polite with your ‘get lost’ than most guys are.” She slipped out of the booth. “See you later.” “Later,” he agreed as she sashayed away, hips swaying in a way that made him wonder how she could actually make forward progress. He shook his head and glanced around, trying to spot any of the gay or bi men he knew who might be looking for a night of fun and games between the sheets. Cameron, a lanky redhead he’d bedded a few times, was making his way through the crowd, his shocking bright orange hair caught Del’s attention. No one could mistake Cameron for anyone else at the colony. He had the brightest red mop of hair. Unfortunately Cameron had another man following him. A tall, dark-haired guy who worked as a mechanic for the fire teams. Del knew him, but he couldn’t place the guy’s name. He turned his gaze elsewhere, not for the first time wishing the corporation would allow the workers to place personal ads on the intranet for the colony. It would have made things so much easier. Single Racially Mixed Gay Male seeks Gay or Bi Male any race for fun in the bedroom. Must be a willing bottom for a dominant top. Yes, it would be so much easier if they could place ads. He picked up his empty glass and headed toward the bar for a refill. The crowd around the bar forced him to wait until a few people cleared out of the way. A discordant

sound drew his attention and he turned to see the live band getting ready to play. He frowned. He didn’t like the music these guys played, and he’d heard every one of their songs more times than he cared to count. Yet, he wasn’t ready to head to what passed as ‘home’ here either. Not alone. He pushed his way closer to the bar and was about to put his glass down when he noticed tousled platinum blond hair. Well I didn’t expect to see him here. He pushed his way closer to the pretty blond suit he’d rescued, a warm smile curling his mouth. Let him be bi at least. The slender man was bumped by a big miner, the man almost knocking the smaller guy off his feet. Del caught him, his hands gripping the suit’s biceps to keep him from going down under the feet of the crowd around the bar. He discovered the man’s arms were firm, the muscles more apparent than he’d expected for someone who sat behind a desk all day. When he’d rescued the guy he’d been in a fire suit so he hadn’t been able to tell much about either of the people he’d put in the rescue vehicle. The only thing Del had noticed was the man’s face, which was more than enough to put a spark of interest into his mind. And my cock, because it’s aching for something besides my hand and the simvids I’ve been linking with these last couple of months. Startled blue eyes looked up at him from behind gold rimmed glasses. “Oh, it’s you!” Del nodded. The executive hadn’t been wearing glasses when he’d rescued him, but he decided they added to the suit’s appearance of intelligence. He kind of liked the way they made the guy look. Smart, yet somehow vulnerable at the same time. “This is twice I’ve rescued you.” he wanted to lean down and kiss the blond, wondering if his lips would taste as sweet as they looked. The crotch of his tight jeans became uncomfortable at the thought of what might lay beneath the dark grey suit. The blond nodded. “So it seems,” he admitted. “I did nearly fall, and I guess with so many people in here, I might not have been able to get up.” He glanced at the hands holding him. “I’m all right now though, so perhaps you could release me?” “Sure.” Del felt a faint flush warm his cheeks. Blushing like a kid. That’s not like me at all. * Lust thrummed through the body of the man who’d saved him for the second time in a week. Aaron knew he shouldn’t have come to the club, he’d known it for a mistake the second he’d gotten into the elevator and headed for the entertainment floor where the workers came to unwind. People like him, the executives of the mining operation, didn’t belong among the workers. He could feel resentment bleeding off of the people around him, and the sheer number of people packed into the space was a guarantee of a pounding headache if he stayed too long. But he’d wanted to have a drink, and only the highest echelon executives could keep alcohol in their rooms, and he wasn’t that far up the corporate food chain. Not yet anyway. He could have gone to the executive club, but the place was boring, and usually empty of anyone he could socialize with even on the best of days. Though he shouldn’t be here to socialize either. It wasn’t a good idea for a suit to mingle with the grunts, as they referred to one another. Suits and Grunts. Upper echelon and ‘lower class’. The slurs

were a part of their world. A part Aaron didn’t like, but had to live with regardless how he felt. Better than any drink was the presence of the firefighter. The man had a body that left Aaron’s mouth dry with desire. His face, sharp planes, masculine angles, and firm lips drew Aaron’s gaze, as did the fireman’s eyes. They were hazel, full of green highlights which were warm and welcoming in a way that left Aaron aching to be touched, to feel the man’s kisses. A man who still hadn’t let him go. Think this over carefully. Do I really want to go back to my place with one of the workers? A firefighter to be sure, but still far below my education and upbringing. No. I can’t bring him to my place. People would notice. They’d talk. Then where would I be? Where I was when I got here, that’s where. But the overpowering need the firefighter felt for him couldn’t be denied. Neither could his own desires. He wanted this man, wanted to feel that coffee-and-cream skin, wanted to kiss it, and taste it. And yet… He had to deny the feelings, the needs. He couldn’t afford to make any more mistakes. The band changed songs, this one loud enough to rattle his teeth. Aaron had to shout to be heard over the pounding beat. “I have to go,” he told the other man, and pulled free of the powerful hands which held him so gently. He regretted the necessity, but the physical contact had begun to erode his willpower to stay out of entanglements with other people. Sexual relationships were the worst sort of entanglements. They were the things that got you fired from your job, and Aaron couldn’t afford to lose his position with Rowland. No more fiascos. “Please, wait, I…” the firefighter stood there, staring at him. Desire hammered at Aaron’s mind, making an offer the man had yet to speak aloud. But Aaron didn’t need to hear the words, he could feel the man’s lust, feel it bleeding off of him the way the endurium ore had bled hot metal in the burning mine. Aaron remembered the feel of the fireman’s arms as he’d been carried to safety, but right now there was nothing safe in being close to the bigger man. He had to go. Go before his resolve crumbled and he made a mistake. A big mistake that could hinder his rise through Rowland Mining’s executive branch. I’m so close to a promotion. I can’t let passion ruin my chances. “Really, I do have to go.” He felt the weight of heartache, the loneliness the firefighter experienced as he insisted on going. It cut his soul like a knife. He owed this man his life, possibly twice, certainly once, and here he was, ramming a blade of sorrow into him. What choice do I have? If I stay I’ll make a mistake, and any more mistakes will end my career. Aaron closed his eyes, stood there, debating. Unsure what he should do, but knowing what he should do at the same time. He should go. He should retreat back to the safety of his own world, his own dismal, lonely life. But he didn’t want to do that, which was the crux of the problem. He wanted to let this handsome, virile man kiss him, touch him, yes, even fuck him. He’d saved his life. He owed him something. I don’t have to pay him back. He was doing his job. “Buy you a drink?” the fireman asked. I can offer a suitable compromise. “No, let me buy you one,” Aaron replied.

“Sure, sounds good to me,” the firefighter agreed. “My name’s Delmar Preston, by the way. My friends call me Del.” He held his hand out and Aaron took it, feeling the warm, strong hand close around his. A jolt of desire burned through the connection, tingling along his mental pathways, sending a thrum of need through his entire body. Need that settled in his groin, pulsing with his heart beat, coiling in his balls. “I’m Aaron Halford,” he stated as they shook. He was barely aware of their surroundings. Barely cognizant of anything but the raw, primal emotion coming off of Del. Desire which filled Aaron as if it were his own. The fireman wanted him. Wanted him in the worst way. He caught a mental image of his lips wrapped around the firefighter’s cock, the man’s hand tangled in his hair. Aaron heard himself gasp as his cock went hard. He instantly ached for the man’s touch, for the reality of what he’d seen in the other man’s mind, eager to give that, and more to his handsome rescuer. Yes, he was willing to give so much more to Delmar. Eager to taste his cock, to suck the firefighter’s erection until the man yielded up his man-cream for Aaron to swallow. Aaron had no illusions about himself. He knew he was a toy waiting for the right man to claim him for some very adult games. Games he would be more than happy to play with the tall, well-muscled firefighter. The hand let go, but the desire humming through him did not. He wanted Delmar Preston. Wanted him in a way Aaron had avoided wanting anyone since he’d arrived. But being a telempath had certain disadvantages. One of which—in his case—was being unable to fully disconnect from emotion. Right now, he would have given anything, perhaps his own soul, to be able to create the distancing other executives could make between themselves and their employees because, much as he desired Delmar, he didn’t dare act on the need. Maybe this isn’t such a good idea. But it was too late to back out. The fireman gently pushed his way through the press of people and Aaron followed. He’d offered to buy the man a drink; he could very well turn and walk away. I shouldn’t have come here; I shouldn’t have offered him a drink. I shouldn’t have come here to fraternize with the workers. I should have gone to the executive club. Why didn’t I go there instead? Why? “What will you have?” Delmar asked, turning a smile on him which left Aaron wanting to run. Or wanting to strip naked and throw himself at the firefighter. He knew he’d lost the battle of willpower with himself. He was going to go to the firefighter’s cubbyhole apartment and let the man do whatever he wanted to do, so long as he got a hard cock inside him. A glance down told him what he’d be getting himself into. The man had a cock that would put a bull to shame. At least Aaron thought so. He’d never seen a live bull but if he ever did, he was pretty sure the poor beast would come in second in a contest of masculine attributes. He smiled at Del, struggling with his decision, trying to fight off his own lust for the man. “I’ll have a wine chiller.” And about twenty pounds of ice in a tub big enough for me to sit in. Pull yourself together. This cannot happen between us. I cannot take a lover, especially not one of the working class. “One wine chiller, one beer, and my friend is paying,” Del said to the female bar attendant. He’d leaned against the top of the bar, the muscles in his back flexing beneath the tight t-shirt. Aaron swallowed, his gaze roaming across the expanse of powerful muscle down to the man’s firm behind under the tight jeans. Aaron held out his hand so

the scanner could read his IDC. He saw the price of the two drinks. Twenty seven credits. He’d expected their order to cost more, but Delmar had gotten a beer, rather than something more expensive. Del got their drinks and turned. “Come on, let’s find a table and talk.” “Okay,” Aaron agreed. He didn’t want a table. He didn’t want to talk. Talking meant becoming acquaintances, and that took him one step closer to a different, more personal sort of association. One that would happen horizontally, frequently minus any clothing. I can’t do this again. Not again. I’m doing so well with Rowland; I can’t blow my chance here the way I blew it with Morishita Corporation. If I’d never met that guy in shipping I’d still be working for them, and being paid better than I am now. Del found them a table and set their drinks down. The tall firefighter sat down. Aaron wanted to bolt, to hurry out of the club and not come back. “Something wrong?” Del asked. “I’m psi talented. A telempath, I… I’m sorry I didn’t tell you before.” He felt the blush of embarrassment heat his cheeks, felt the shock as it registered in Delmar’s mind. Here it comes. He’ll reject me for being a freak. It will save my career, and I can leave and not worry about how much I want to have his cock in me. Instead of anger or disgust, the man shrugged. “No big deal. Lots of people out here on he fringes of human space are psi.” Aaron stared. Of course his bosses knew about his ability, it was in his file as a matter of record wherever he went. Psi talents couldn’t be hidden or lied about. And his bosses put his talent to good use, anytime they felt an employee might be lying about thefts or other nefarious deeds, like murder. But he could feel their distrust, the skin crawling disgust over what he was, what he could do. “You… don’t care? You seriously don’t care?” Del shrugged, took a sip of his beer. “No. I’ve got a touch of psi talent myself.” The man chuckled. “I can manage to roll a pen across a desk one out of six tries. It’s totally hit and miss, really. Unreliable, and not worth a damn thing to me job-wise.” “Oh,” Aaron remarked as he dropped into the seat across from Del. “Telempath. That’s reading emotions and picking up on people’s thoughts, right?” “Yes.” The man nodded, his expression gone serious. “So you’ve picked up on how much I want…” Del hesitated and Aaron noticed he’d changed the direction of his remark midsentence. “You know what I’m feeling?” Aaron couldn’t help it, his face went hot. “Yes.” He picked up his wine chiller and gulped a mouthful, choking slightly in the process. He started coughing. His lungs, still sore from his ordeal in the fire, hurt with each hard expulsion of breath. “Take it easy. I’ve already had to save you twice now, let’s not go for three. Besides the last thing I want to do is perform CPR on you. Too much like kissing.” Aaron also couldn’t help the smile that tugged at his lips at Del’s teasing. He stopped coughing, and wiped his mouth with the napkin which had come with his drink. “Okay, so you know I’m interested,” Del went on, speaking bluntly. “I’m not going to pressure you. It’s totally up to you how this goes.” Aaron sighed. “That’s just the thing, it can’t go anywhere.” He felt the wash of disappointment flow over him from the other man. He’d rejected Del’s offer and he’d hurt the other man in the process.

“That’s okay. I’m not going to push, like I said.” Del took a drink of his beer. “In case you change your mind though, I’m in Sector Seven, Blue Street, apartment nineteen.” The man downed the rest of his beer, Aaron staring at Del as he drained the glass. Done, the firefighter stood. “See you around.” Aaron stared at his wine chiller. I want him so bad. I do. But… “Yeah, sure, see you around,” he replied, numb, wishing things could be different. He watched Del vanish into the crowd, his chest gone tight as his own loneliness closed around him.

Chapter Three Del frowned at himself in the mirror on the back of the bathroom door, and tugged at the jacket of the only suit he owned. A suit that no longer fit him the way it had when he’d come to the mining colony two and a half years ago. Now what do I do? I can’t go to the deposition about the fire looking like this, and I also can’t afford a different suit. The pants were all right, it was the way the coat of the suit, and the shirt underneath, strained across his chest that had become an unsuspected issue. They were too tight, the hours at the gym lifting weights to stay in shape for his job—one which often required heavy lifting—had done their job. Unfortunately he’d put on more muscle than he’d realized. Annoyed, he sat down on the edge of his bed. There’s no way I can afford another suit, and I don’t think this jacket can be let out enough to make a difference. So now what? I can’t go to the deposition in a t-shirt and jeans. He took the three steps from his bed to the datacomp in the wall, brought up his credit balance and sighed in disgust. His bonus for saving the lives of the two suits would just about pay for a new suit for himself. He’d wanted to save the majority of the bonus money as a start toward the funds he’d need to get off this rock and find a better job. A job that had nothing to do with mines or fringe world colonies at the edge of explored space. As usual, his luck ran counter to his desires. Del took off the unusable suit and hung it in the closet. He could try selling it later to make back some of the money he’d be spending. If he could find a buyer. There were few reasons for any of the workers to wear suits, so the supply often exceeded the demand. Del put on his usual attire and headed for the shopping level of the colony to find a suit. He had to have something by the time he was scheduled to speak to the investigation committee tomorrow or they’d fine him for being ‘disrespectful’ of the proceedings. Good thing I didn’t wait until tomorrow to try it on. I wouldn’t have had enough time to get a new suit if I had. He headed for the lift to take him to the shopping level, paying the five credits it cost to go up by waving his IDC over the reader beside the door. The car carried him and three other guys up, all of them leaving the lift on the shopping floor. Del got out and headed toward the only store that sold suits on the whole colony. Most of the executives shopped there. He’d seen it, but until today he hadn’t had reason to go inside. He glanced at the sign, noticing the store’s name for the first time: Executive Suit. Pretty much sums it up I guess. The second he stepped inside a man hurried up to him, his mouth pinched into a moue of distaste as if he had a lemon in his mouth. “I’m sorry, but this store only sells business suits,” the man explained, his arms out as if he sought to usher Del back outside. Del frowned, annoyed by the man’s efforts to make him leave. “Yeah, that’s the reason I’m here, for a suit.” The clerk stared at Del as if he’d grown a second head. “What would a miner need with a suit?” he asked as if he couldn’t wrap his mind around any of the ‘lower class’

needing business attire. “First off,” Del began, voice tight with irritation, “I’m not a miner. I’m a fireman. Second, it’s none of your damn business. I came in here to buy a suit and your job,” he glanced at the man’s name tag, “Jim, is to help me find a suit, not decide if I should be here to buy one or not.” The man recoiled as if he’d been punched. “I… uhh… that is…” Del headed for displays of conservative attire. Business suits in boring grey, black or brown. He loathed the things, but a man had to do what a man had to do when it came to meeting with corporate types. The man followed him, his expression one of near panic, as if he might be worried Del would start wrecking the place. What a prissy SOB, Del thought, wondering if that wasn’t part of the reason Aaron Halford had refused his efforts to get him into bed. Suits do tend to be an uptight bunch of class-conscious asshats. Would have been a damn mistake, getting involved with a suit. Nothing good ever comes of trying to have a relationship with someone like that. As many times as I’ve seen Rio crying over some jerkoff suit, why in hell did I think it would be a good idea to bed Aaron? Sure, he’s got that pretty mouth, and he’s hot as hell, but I’d be better off with a pugugly miner than one of them. A suit on a rack caught his eye and Del removed it from the display. He studied the cut and style. Noticing that it resembled the suit he could no longer wear he checked the label and found it was made by the same company. The one he held was even the same size as his own. “Please, I must insist you not handle the merchandise. These aren’t t-shirts and jeans. They’re expensive and someone like you…” Del’s frosty stare shut the man up. He hung the suit up and checked the next one. The jacket would fit, but the pants were also a size larger, which would make them a size too big. “Really, you shouldn’t be here,” Jim muttered, his hands fluttered like lost birds. Del stared at him and the man took a step away. “I told you, I’m buying a suit. You can let me get this over with, pay and get out of here, or you can keep annoying me and make this take twice as long. Think it over. Either way I’m staying until I have what I need.” Another man—the tag on his chest said his name was Martin—joined them. Del glanced at him and noticed Martin waving Jim away. The fussy man frowned but departed for the other side of the store. “I don’t suppose you sell just the jackets? My pants fit, but the jacket doesn’t.” “We do, but there’s a ten percent surcharge for breaking a suit up.” Del glanced at the price tag on the entire suit. Almost thirteen hundred. Three hundred more than his entire bonus. “What would the jacket alone cost?” Martin glanced at the tag. “Seven hundred credits, plus the ten percent and the sales tax of course.” “I’ll need a shirt too.” Martin nodded. “We have some that are on sale. Only two hundred credits. A real steal. Full price they run close to five hundred.” “I’ll need one of those too, then.” Goodbye bonus.

“Did you want to try this on first? To make sure it fits?” “Yeah, that’s probably a good idea.” Martin slipped the coat off the hanger and handed it to Del. He pointed. “The fitting rooms are there.” “Thanks.” Del headed the way Martin had pointed, following the signs for the fitting rooms. He reached for a door knob and jumped back when it swung open. Aaron stared at him, lips parted in an ‘O’ of surprise. Del couldn’t help himself, he smiled. “Hello, Aaron,” he said automatically, instantly forgetting his resolve to stay out of relationships with suits. The blond had on a pair of dove grey pants. Obviously a pair he was trying on because he was barefooted and the trousers were a couple inches too long. He also didn’t have on a jacket or shirt. Del stared at the man’s exposed chest and belly. If Del hadn’t known better he’d have mistaken Aaron for another worker. His body had the hard, sculpted lines of someone who spent their days doing hard physical labor. “Not bad, for a suit,” Del commented. Aaron blushed at Del’s frank appraisal. “What are you doing here?” Aaron blurted out. He sounded as if he might be accusing Del of something underhanded. “I need a new suit coat. Mine doesn’t fit anymore,” Del remarked fighting to keep himself from doing something stupid, like leaning down to kiss Aaron. Powerful as the urge to kiss Aaron was, Del retained control of his libido. Barely. “Oh…” Aaron darted into the fitting room and grabbed his shirt. His pupils were wide, hiding most of the bright blue of the irises. Startled. Shocked by the lust he must feel coming from Del. And Del was in lust. No denying it. He wanted Aaron. Wanted him bad. Suits and grunts don’t mix, he reminded himself. Aaron nodded as if he’d heard what Del was thinking. Being a telempath, maybe he did. They stood there, silent, aware of each other in a ways only two people in lust with one another could be. While Del wasn’t a telempath he could tell Aaron wanted him, the hard line of his cock beneath the pants gave evidence of Aaron’s desire. “It can’t work,” Aaron whispered. “I know,” Del agreed. They were right, and yet… “Hell with it,” Del growled. He grabbed Aaron’s biceps and walked him backward into the fitting room. His mouth closed over Aaron’s, the kiss possessive, hungry. Aaron didn’t push him away or try to escape. He stood still, allowing the kiss, his lips parting under the touch of Del’s tongue. Del kicked the door of the fitting room shut as he continued the kiss. I shouldn’t be doing this. I’d lay odds neither of us can afford the complication. But I want him, and he wants me. Aaron’s arms slipped around his waist, the blond pressing closer, responding to the kiss. His tongue writhed against Del’s in a way which proved Aaron wanted him as much as he wanted Aaron. Del reached behind himself, turned the lock on the door to give them

guaranteed privacy. He held Aaron closer, their kiss intense, heart-pounding desire unleashed. Del’s balls ached for release; he yearned to sink his throbbing cock inside Aaron’s body. He wanted Aaron now, right there in the dressing room of the Executive Suit. The blond pressed himself tightly to Del, leaving no doubts in Del’s mind that Aaron wanted him as much as he wanted Aaron. Aaron’s hands fumbled with the button of his jeans. Del ended their kiss, met a passion-heated gaze as Aaron looked up at him. Del wasn’t a telempath, but it didn’t take a psychic to know what the blond wanted. Not with his hands on Del’s crotch, undoing the zipper of his jeans. Hands that shook with excitement as they freed his cock from confinement. “Oh my… God…” Aaron whispered, voice tight with desire as he dropped to his knees at Del’s feet. The blond had his cockhead in his eager mouth before Del had a chance to argue against the risk they were taking. And once that wet, eager mouth closed on his aching flesh, all thought of being discovered vanished from Del’s mind. He braced a hand on the wall to steady himself, his other hand stroking through Aaron’s pale hair, caressing him as the man sucked and licked the head of his erection. The very image he’d had in his mind at the club had turned into reality. “Yeah, that’s good,” he murmured. Aaron took his full length, sucking, pleasuring him. Del gritted his teeth against the groan he wanted to voice. This sure as hell wasn’t the place to get noisy. Not when they were risking a public indecency charge and the fine that went with the crime. “Hello? Mr. Halford? Are you in there?” Del knew the voice. Jim the Jerk. Figures it would be him. The intense sensation of a hot mouth and tongue stroking his cock stopped abruptly, and Del gritted his teeth against the annoyed sound he’d almost made. For both their sakes Jim the Jerk could not know they were together in the dressing room. “Yes, I’m in here. I’m trying to decide if I like these pants or not,” Aaron replied, as he got to his feet. His gaze held panic, but his voice remained calm. “Oh, well, take your time, sir.” “Thank you.” Frustrated, Del realized their brief lapse in judgment had come to an abrupt and much-needed end. “This was…” Aaron shook his head and put his shirt on. “A bad idea,” Del finished as he shoved his cock into his jeans and forced the zipper up. It hurt, but the pain helped relieve the desire and lessened the stiffness. Aaron nodded, mute, pale, as if he’d gone into shock. Maybe he had. They’d come close to being caught doing something really stupid. Like a couple of horny school kids in the boy’s bathroom. Del hadn’t even been this stupid in school, but here he was, twenty-nine years old, playing a game of ‘snake in a tunnel’ in the dressing room of a store that catered to people like Aaron. They could both wind up paying heavy fines over having sex in public. Hell, we could be fired over this if anyone finds out what we were doing. Del leaned closer and murmured, “This isn’t a good place, I agree. But there’s no reason we can’t have what we both want.” Aaron shook his head vehemently. “There’s every reason in the world we can’t do…

what we were doing. Here or anywhere else.” Del grabbed Aaron’s arm. “You’re the one who unzipped me!” he reminded, voice a harsh whisper. If there was anything he hated, it was a cock tease, and this was the second time Aaron had gotten him hot and wanting. Aaron’s voice was the barest whisper as he replied, “I’m a telempath with an inability to fully shield myself from powerful emotion.” Aaron’s tone held anger and fear. “You fill me with the lust you feel and it makes me…” Aaron broke free of his grasp. “It makes me stop thinking about anything but you.” Del stepped away. “I haven’t stopped thinking about you since the fire,” he admitted. The surprise Aaron felt over his remark was an almost palpable force. A fog of emotion settled over Del’s mind from the telempath. Confusion, uncertainty, the red hum of lust. Aaron turned away. “I… can’t. I can’t.” Del couldn’t help himself. He gripped Aaron’s shoulders, not to shake him, but to try and offer…something. Comfort. Understanding. He didn’t know. All he knew was the man he wanted in ways he hadn’t wanted anyone in a long time was trying to end a relationship they hadn’t even begun. Del understood why Aaron didn’t want to be involved. Hell, he’d been telling himself why they couldn’t have a relationship not fifteen minutes ago. Yet, coming face to face with Aaron, having felt the blond’s eager mouth on his cock, he couldn’t let what might happen between them end before it had a chance to start. “You go ahead and leave. I’ll try on this jacket and wait a while to come out.” Aaron nodded, but said nothing as he took off the pants he’d been trying on. Del stared at the man’s long, lean thighs, the swell of his calves, his narrow ass. He wanted to grab it, wanted to sink his cock into it. Aaron glared at him over his shoulder with a stricken look. Del changed mental subjects, turning his thoughts to basic maintenance of the firecar he drove. Aaron’s expression became one of relief. He finished dressing and put his shoes on. Done, he headed for the fitting room door. “You know where I live. Meet me there,” Del urged, voice rough with desire. Aaron nodded, but Del knew the other man wouldn’t come. Aaron would do what he’d done the night before. Want and need, and turn his offer down cold. * Aaron went to the register to pay for the pants and the tailoring needed to make them fit. His mind wasn’t on the pants anymore. His thoughts lingered with the man lurking in the dressing room. He could still taste the salt musk of the other man’s cock inside his mouth, clinging to his lips and tongue the way a savory meal would. And what a meal that cock could be. Big and thick. Del’s pulse throbbing against his lips as he’d sucked it. Aaron could feel his groin tighten, and desire flushed his face. He blanked his mind, thinking about drafting contracts and the dull business of the deposition he had to give tomorrow afternoon. What could he tell them? That he’d seen a man of fire walking through the mine burning people to death? Frank had blurted it out and look where it had gotten him. Locked up in the mental rehabilitation ward of the hospital, sedated out of his mind. Aaron shuddered and presented his IDC to the clerk at the register. “We have your measurements on file, Mister Halford. When do you want them?”

“Tomorrow morning. I have an appointment in the afternoon.” He barely noticed the price, barely noticed anything beyond the lingering desire which filled his mind. He wanted the firefighter and nothing was going to quench the burn of need inside him but having what he wanted. “Thank you, Mister Halford. We’ll have them to you first thing in the morning.” “Thank you,” he replied, his mind on autopilot. His thoughts wrapped in a violet haze of desire, Aaron left the store, letting his feet take him where they would as the vicious fangs of anxiety nibbled at him. What if someone found out about what he’d started to do with the firefighter in the dressing room of the Executive Suit? What if he lost his job? Aaron felt sick inside. He rode the lift down, thinking he was going to the club for a drink. Instead he wound up on a totally different floor where the walls were crowded with doors and the corridor held people in work-stained clothing. Miners. Smelters. Cooks and janitors. The general laborers who kept the colony functioning, dug the ore, turned it into metal, made the meals and cleaned the place. These people, the grunts, were the bread and butter of the mining operation. Without them the place would be nothing. A useless rock floating through space. He felt their eyes on him. Aaron felt the stew of their emotions spilling into him. Disgust, jealousy, contempt and hate as he walked along the corridor. By the time he’d taken three steps from the lift his brain was devoid of his own thoughts. The poison of other people’s emotions washed through him until he felt nothing at all. He stopped, stared at a dull blue door. There were numbers on it. He could see them, but his mind wouldn’t accept the data his eyes provided. Dull witted as if he was drunk, Aaron stared at the door. Some sector of his mind knew where he was, but the part of his psyche which could recognize the place refused to acknowledge anything. He stood there, dazed by the flood of emotions etched into his thoughts, stealing away his sense of self. People moved through the corridor. He was bumped, jostled, almost knocked off his feet. But he stayed where he was, staring at the door until he felt a big hand close on his shoulder. “Hey, Aaron, are you okay? You look… confused.” He knew the voice and it shook him out of his apathy. He turned, looked into greentinted hazel eyes. The face was a familiar one, but it took a while for his rattled mind to engage and supply a name. “Hi Del,” he said, voice distant, as if someone else spoke through his own mouth. The firefighter leaned closer. His hazel eyes peered at Aaron as if trying to find something meaningful written on his skin. Aaron stared. Del certainly was a good looking man. “What’s wrong with you? Did you eat or drink anything you shouldn’t have?” The concern in the man’s gaze was quite touching. He actually seemed to care about him, which was a refreshing change. No one really cared about Aaron Halford except Aaron Halford himself, and some days even that came into question. “Let’s go inside.” Del touched the print scanner on the door with his right thumb. The door opened with a soft hiss. With less willpower than an automaton would possess, Aaron let Del guide him inside. He obeyed the touch of the hands that turned him and made him sit down.

Bed. He identified where he was sitting, unease sliding through him. The unease took root and added to his growing awareness. He glanced around at the cramped cubicle. A tiny sink in one wall, a microwave over it, below it a small refrigerator. A narrow doorway led into the bathroom. A wall lined with doors and drawers. Why did I come here? The answer flitted around in the shadows filling his mind. I shouldn’t be here. I… I should go home. Aaron stood, but big hands pushed him down on the bed, stopping him. “Talk to me, Aaron. What’s wrong?” Is there something wrong with me? He thought about it, but his mental processes were slow, as if each idea, every word had to pass through a pool of thick glue. “Aaron, seriously, I’m about a second away from calling a med team.” Aaron shook his head, searched for the words he needed. “I’m… all right. Just need to find myself.” Del gave him a confused look. “Telempathic ability… lost who I am in other people’s feelings.” “Shit,” Del muttered. He stepped away and opened a cabinet, took out a plastic drinking glass, filled it at the sink. He grabbed a small bottle from another cabinet. “Hold out your hand.” Aaron stared at Del’s broad chest, watched the play of muscle beneath the tight shirt, the way it stretched across rippling muscle. He licked his lips, remembered the flavor of Del’s cock in his mouth, and realized he wanted another taste. Not thinking Aaron grabbed the waistband of Del’s jeans and undid the button. He was about to pull the zipper when Del stepped out of his reach. “Nothing doing. You aren’t acting like you’re all here, Aaron. Until you can hold a conversation, you’re not getting near my dick.” Aaron frowned, brows pulled together as he watched the man retreat. “I don’t want you to snap out of whatever’s going on in your head and have you claim I raped you. Understand?” “Rape?” Aaron blinked, glanced at Del, winced as the overhead light glared in his vision and blasted a new awareness through him. “My head hurts.” Del shook the bottle. “Painkiller here. Why do you think I wanted you to hold out your hand?” “Oh,” Aaron replied dully and complied. Del shook a pill into his palm and offered Aaron the glass. Aaron took it, downed the pill and scooted back farther on the bed, careful not to bump his head on the cabinets above the bed. “Why are you here anyway?” Del questioned. Aaron, his nerves raw from the ordeal he’d undergone when he’d lost control of his psi-talent, flinched at the man’s tone. Anger simmered behind those hazel eyes, the lust seething like lava beneath the surface. “I want…” Aaron stopped himself. “You want what?” He gave up, surrendering to the thing he wanted. “You,” he replied, voice gone soft, hesitant. “Yeah, I noticed that in the fitting room. But before we do anything, I want to make damn sure you’re not going to change your mind.”

“I wouldn’t have changed my mind if we hadn’t been in a public place. I don’t need the reputation of being a sexual deviant, and I don’t like paying fines.” “Fair enough,” Del allowed. Aaron closed his eyes, wishing the painkiller he’d been given would work. Dear God, I took a drug from a complete stranger. The thought jolted him into full awareness and he grabbed the bottle from Del’s hand, staring at the label and opening the bottle to make sure the pills inside were what the bottle claimed they were. Del chuckled. “I’ll take that as an indication you’re okay.” Aaron looked up at him, saw the man’s mouth curled into a sexy smile. “I’m not going to hurt you. The psychology tests weed out most of the ax murderers and anti-social killers long before we’re hired,” Del told him. A wry smile curled his lips and somehow Aaron found that to be even sexier than the earlier expression. “I… know but…” “Why don’t you lie down and rest for a while. When you’re feeling better you can head home. If you don’t think you can make it, you can either stay here with me,” Del’s sexy smile widened into a grin, “or if you can’t handle sleeping in my bed, I’ll walk you home.” Lust beat at Aaron’s rattled nerves. “Please Del, you’re thinking about what I was doing in the fitting room. I… can’t handle that much emotion right now.” “Too bad. But I’m not going to push you.” Images of complicated gear Aaron couldn’t begin to understand flooded his mind. He recognized the oxygen mask because he’d had one over his own face not so long ago. “Thank you.” “I told you, I’m not going to push.” Aaron managed a wan smile. “Are you hungry?” He thought about it. Then he thought about how expensive food was on a worker’s budget. “I’m okay.” “You sure?” “I ate lunch before I went to the Executive Suit. I’ll be okay until breakfast tomorrow.” “Really?” Aaron nodded. He usually didn’t eat dinner, and it saved him a few hundred credits a month which he used to fund his gym time. It also kept him from getting a case of executive belly wobble or desk jockey ass spread. “Tell me something.” Aaron offered Del a questioning look but no spoken prompt. “Don’t you suit types usually work at this time of day?” “Work!” he glanced at his watch and bolted for the door of Del’s tiny apartment. “I was at lunch. I… forgot. I’m going to be in so much trouble with my boss. I have to go!” He got the door open and hurried out. Del’s hand stopped him. “Can I have the pills and the glass back?” Aaron glanced at the things in his hands. “Sorry, here,” he said and shoved the things into Del’s hands. He stopped, looked at his watch. “I forgot, I’m on a few days medical leave. I didn’t go to work today.” “Do you want to stay then?”

Aaron paused, considering whether he wanted to at least remain until the worst part of his headache was gone. If you stay you know what’s going to happen. You’re going to wind up with a hard rod of hot flesh in your mouth, up your ass, or both. The thought that both things could happen sent a thrum of desire through Aaron. This doesn’t have to be a relationship. I can have some fun with a grunt, and then go home in the morning and forget him. It will take the edge off my sexual frustration and then I’ll go back to work. Aaron turned around and stepped inside Del’s apartment. “You’d better be worth it, that’s all I’ve got to say.” The taller man chuckled and patted his butt as he closed the door. “I think you’ll be satisfied. That is, if you can still walk when I’m done with you.” Aaron tipped his head to look at the man. “Your cock’s big, and you talk big, but can you live up to the expectations?” “Oh yeah, I sure can,” Del assured him, the man’s sexy mouth opening in a wide grin that showed off perfectly white teeth.

Chapter Four Without hesitation, Del took Aaron into his arms and kissed him, Aaron responded, no sign of lingering reservation apparent in the way he leaned closer. Their tongues writhed intimately. It felt good to have Aaron in his arms. As if the younger suit belonged there, should have been there his whole life. Which surprised Del. He wasn’t looking for a permanent relationship, and he knew Aaron wasn’t either. Yet he couldn’t deny the way Aaron felt in his arms. Or the way his dick went hard every time he saw Aaron. The thoughts that filled his mind, erotic, lustful thoughts of Aaron sucking his cock. Of Aaron on his knees as he fucked him. Of Aaron in the shower, sleek and wet, as he took him, pounding his stiff flesh into Aaron’s yielding body. He ended the kiss when they were both breathless, their erections pressing against each other through the barrier of their clothes. “Your thoughts are…” Aaron shook his head, his breathing rough, cheeks flushed with passion. “Are what?” Del prompted. He took Aaron’s chin in his hand, forced the blond to look up, meet his gaze. Aaron actually blushed. Del couldn’t believe it. But it didn’t take him long to figure it out. Aaron wasn’t a virgin, but he also wasn’t very experienced if his reaction was any indication. Being openly psi, there would be a lot more people afraid to get close to Aaron than there would be people willing to hop in bed with him. “Bad as a porn sim.” Del grinned. “But you’ll find a live person is a lot better than any porn sim.” He leaned in and set his lips to Aaron’s mouth, the blond’s lips parting for the second invasion of Del’s tongue. Aaron leaned into him, and Del tightened his arms around Aaron, holding him, his fingers kneading the blond’s firm behind. Aaron arched his back, pressing his butt into Del’s grasp, a soft moan trickling from him down Del’s throat. Del broke their kiss for the second time and reached for Aaron’s suit jacket. “I want to touch skin,” he said as he unbuttoned Aaron’s jacket. The blond slipped out of the jacket and undid his tie. “Please hang it up.” Del nodded and got a hanger from his tiny closet where his own suit hung. The rest of his clothes were folded up in drawers. He took Aaron’s shirt, hung it up, put the coat over it and draped the tie around the neck of the hanger. He could see glimmers of perfect, though slightly too pale skin from the corner of his eye. Del wanted to look, but he had to get Aaron’s clothes in the closet first. He knew if he looked, the clothes wouldn’t get hung up. He’d be too busy kissing and touching to care about the young executive’s expensive suit. He reached for the suit trousers, keeping his eyes on the open door of the closet. He hung the pants up then turned to take in the sleek form of the blond. He didn’t speak, he stood there looking at Aaron, drinking in the masculine lines, the curve of solid muscle and the harder shape of bone. Del felt his heart hammering in his chest, the beat of it flowing through his veins, thrumming through his stiff cock. His cock wasn’t the only stiff rod of flesh in the room. While Aaron’s wasn’t as thick

or long, that didn’t mean the man didn’t have a fair sized hunk of man-flesh jutting from the nest of spun gold at the junction of his nicely muscled thighs. “I can see you work out,” Del remarked as he took off his t-shirt. Aaron nodded, blushing, gaze lowering. Embarrassed, perhaps a little shy, Aaron stood naked before him, head lowering as if he couldn’t meet Del’s gaze. Del slipped off his shoes, removed his jeans and tossed them aside, smiling as something inside him, some primeval instinct he didn’t understand and couldn’t name, urged him to do whatever he had to do in order to possess Aaron. To keep Aaron as his lover. Impractical, bordering on insane, and yet Del knew he wanted Aaron. Not for a night, but for all his nights and days in the world of the living. The why of it didn’t matter. The obstacles between them didn’t matter. What mattered was making Aaron his. His for as long as they both lived. As if on some unseen signal they stepped into one another’s arms, Del’s going around Aaron’s waist, Aaron’s lifting to twine around Del’s neck. Their lips met in a passionate clasp, Del’s tongue thrusting into Aaron’s mouth, claiming the blond in a conquest of lust over caution. Of desire over the artificial distinction of class that stood between them. Aaron’s fingers caressed Del’s shoulders, slid along the nape of his neck and into his hair in a lover’s caress which further incited Del’s resolve to keep Aaron. Perhaps Aaron’s telempathic abilities picked up on his feelings, or maybe Aaron had something inside himself that meshed with Del’s needs. An intrinsic desire for something solid and good in his life. Del didn’t know, and the only thing that mattered to him was finding a way to keep the slim blond executive. Their tongues tangled, touched, retreated in a game of passion. Del broke the kiss to stare into Aaron’s eyes. Breathless, gaze alight with lust, Aaron pulled away, sinking to his knees at Del’s feet. “I started something in the Executive Suit’s dressing room that I’d like to finish, if you don’t mind.” Del smiled. “Hell no, I don’t mind, Aaron.” He caressed the blond’s cheek, ran his fingers through short-cropped hair soft as silk. “I’m glad you remembered.” Aaron’s hand closed around the base of his cock. “How could I forget a monster like this?” he asked, licked his lips and opened his mouth. Del’s cock jumped in anticipation of what Aaron intended to do. The sensation as Aaron’s mouth closed around his hardened flesh was every bit as incredible as it had been in the store, minus the thrill of fear at being caught. He braced his legs and put one hand on the wall to keep himself steady as the wet heat of Aaron’s mouth sent a cascade of pleasure though him. The sensations coiled in his balls, sang through the nerves of his cock, hummed up his spine to dance through his mind as red bursts of desire, electric sparks of passion. Aaron’s tongue swept across the head of his cock and Del groaned at the flash of ecstasy. “So good,” he murmured, his hand caressing along Aaron’s shoulder, up the side of his neck to cup his cheek. Aaron’s skill at sucking cock surpassed anything he’d experienced with Lon, and the majority of his prior sexual partners. Telempath, he probably feels what he’s doing to me. The idea intrigued him and he wondered exactly what Aaron could do as a

telempath. The ‘tel’ part implied he could read thoughts, but could he project them too? The need to come was building, but Del didn’t want to come in Aaron’s mouth. He wanted to come with Aaron as they fucked. “Stop.” Aaron gave a final suck and teasing lick to Del’s cock and looked up. “You taste good, why did you make me stop?” “I want to fuck you, Aaron.” His lover’s blue eyes sparkled. “Oh, well, I guess that’s okay, then.” Del chuckled. “Good thing you agree.” “I do have an ulterior motive,” Aaron admitted. “I happen to enjoy being fucked.” “Good man,” Del said as he opened a cabinet over the bed and extracted the lube. They wouldn’t need condoms. Everyone on the station was clean of anything that could be sexually transmitted. Diseases like that were a thing of the past with new vaccines and treatment methods. Aaron stood. He appeared nervous, as if he might be reconsidering what they’d started. “You’re not planning to run out on me, are you, Aaron?” The blond shook his head. “No, Del. I…” He sat down on the bed, the strange expression turning to one of distress. “I just… well I’m not like other guys.” Del frowned. “What, you used to be a girl or something?” Aaron’s eyes widened. “No, that’s not it. But… I’m a psi-talent. A pretty high-end one, to be honest.” Del shrugged. “I already told you, I don’t really care that you’re psi-talented. I’m low end psi, remember?” Aaron nodded. “You said, but…” Aaron’s gaze fell to the floor. “I don’t think you understand the full scope of what you’re in for with me.” Del put the lube down on the bed and knelt in front of Aaron, pushed the man’s chin up with the tip of his index finger. “You feel what I feel, right?” Aaron nodded. He’d paled, gone mute the way Del was beginning to identify as a sign of nervous anxiety. He’s gone through hell being a strong psi-talent. Instead of saying anything else, Del leaned in and kissed Aaron, giving him the touch of his lips as a sign of his acceptance. An effort to reassure Aaron that he accepted whatever the blond might be afraid of in himself. Aaron’s kiss was hesitant, his response fragile as spun glass. Del embraced him, his arms pulling Aaron closer, deepening the kiss. His tongue moved between Aaron’s parted lips. He could taste himself there, the salt musk of his cock filling Aaron’s mouth. Aaron relaxed, the tension draining away as he responded without reservation, his arms going around Del’s neck. The blond clung to him as if Del were an anchor in the middle of a raging storm and Del tightened his hold on Aaron, giving him the safety he wanted. I want you, Aaron. He felt the lightest touch of telepathic power brush through his mind. A sense of acceptance woven with threads of fear and desire came through the contact. He relaxed, ignoring the odd feeling of another mind drifting across his surface thoughts like mist across a lake. Del focused his own thoughts on the touch of their lips, the slow dance of their tongues. He held Aaron tighter, pulled him closer and reached between them to touch Aaron’s cock. He brushed his thumb across the head, smearing the wetness of precum, feeling the blond react. A low moan came from Aaron, the sound sliding through

Del’s awareness to send a tremor of intense need through his body. The faint touch of Aaron’s mind against his changed, strengthened into something as intimate as their kiss, and he had a second of disorientation as he experienced the dual sensations of kissing and being kissed, of being held and holding. Of his cock aching to be sunk into welcoming flesh, and a hand around his cock stroking him, giving him pleasure. Del broke the kiss, dazed and gasping for breath. His gaze met Aaron’s, the man’s blue eyes filled with anxiety. “I… I’m sorry.” Del shook his head. “Don’t apologize. You’re not doing anything wrong. Really.” Aaron’s stared at him. “You’re… okay with what was happening?” Del’s answer was to gently guide Aaron backward into bed. He climbed in beside the younger man, the two of them sharing the narrow bed. He knelt above Aaron and leaned down to place a reassuring kiss on his lips, his cheeks, his closed eyelids. His kisses moved downward, over Aaron’s jaw to his neck and shoulders. Crossing to his chest and the dusky, rose-colored nipples which turned to hard pebbles beneath his tongue. Every kiss, every touch was mirrored in Del’s mind. He could feel each touch, every caress he delivered to Aaron, at the same time, Aaron’s touches on him were mirrored to him through Aaron’s mind. Strange, yes, the entire experience did have a sort of surreal feel to it. And yet, Del found he was enjoying the strangeness, the unique experience that only Aaron could offer. By the time he reached Aaron’s cock with his lips the blond’s breaths came in gasping moans and his hands were fisted in the sheets as if they held him to the bed, because in his mind he soared, rising upward on a column of blue and white sparks that blazed comet trails through Del’s brain the same way they lit up Aaron’s mind. Slowly, bit by bit, he was losing himself in the bewildering intensity of being touched and touching, of being kissed and kissing. “Please, Del, fuck me,” Aaron gasped. His hands left the sheets to grip Del’s shoulders, and his eyes fairly glowed in the dim light of the room. Del rose on his hands and knees above Aaron, their gazes locked as Del regarded Aaron in stunned silence. A hand touched his cheek, the caress gentle, the touch of a lover, not that of a quick fuck. This relationship wouldn’t be something he’d willingly let go. Not after this, not when he felt the essence of Aaron, the core of his being all the way to the center of his own mind, his soul. “Are you sure? You know I won’t ever want…” Aaron’s fingertip touched his lips, silencing what he’d been about to say. “Shhh…” We don’t need crude words, the speech of mouths when he can read the very emotions within my mind and heart. Aaron smiled at him. *Fuck me.* And this time Del heard the words spoken directly into his mind. He smiled and reached for the lube and slicked his cock, then dropped the closed bottle to the floor. “Whatever you want, Aaron. I’m here for you,” Del said. He crouched between Aaron’s legs. He gripped Aaron’s knees and lifted him, bending his body, glad to discover that Aaron was also quite flexible. Aaron lifted his head and they kissed, Aaron’s hand closing on his aching flesh and

guiding it to the tight ring of muscle. He slid into Aaron with a slow, gentle push, encountering little resistance. Aaron wanted him all right. Good thing too, because I want him so much it hurts. * The hot lust blazing within Del was like an aphrodisiac to Aaron. A siren’s call his mind couldn’t block, couldn’t resist, didn’t want to deny. The cock sliding gradually sliding into him, the feel of Del’s pleasure as he took Aaron surged through his mind, flowing across the telempathic link forming between them. Aaron groaned as Del’s big cock sank into him. He wanted this man so much nothing could deter him, not the worry over his job, not the fear of his own psi-talent getting away from him. He’d never had full control of his telempathy, so losing control was something that happened regardless. He exhaled and let the slight burn of entry vanish beneath the intense sensation. His mind reached out to the passion which filled Del as his cock slid into Aaron’s body. The smooth slickness of flesh, the tingle of it brushing over his prostate, the sharper jolt of pleasure as it filled him and nudged the nerves a second time wrenched a gasp from him. Aaron needed this and he could tell Del wanted it too. He needed to feel Del’s impressive cock as it moved inside him, as it gave him what he desperately desired from the firefighter. To feel wanted by another man, to experience the touch of someone else’s hands, to have the solitude of their lives dispelled, if only for a few hours, was worth any risk. What they were sharing went beyond normal sex. Del was strong of body, but he was also surprisingly strong of mind, accepting the touch of Aaron’s telempathic abilities in ways no other lover had done. Aaron had never been able to fully shield himself from the thoughts of others. And during intense physical pleasure, he found it impossible not to drift into the mind of the man he was having sex with. He also found it impossible to keep his own feelings, the sensations of being fucked, from the mind of his lover. In the past he’d been punched, backhanded and even kicked for his lack of control. Few men wanted anyone inside their mind, regardless how good it could feel. But Del had been different from the start. He accepted the contact, welcomed it without any reservations. The feelings flowed in an unseen tide between them. Being fucked and fucking, the touch of skin on skin, the feel of hands caressing, tongues tangling in breathless kisses. Their minds touched, danced in silent movements. A cascade of images from their pasts rippled on their awareness; Del with another man, the two of them arguing; Aaron’s last lover kicking him until ribs cracked; Del drinking at the club, tears burning his eyes; Aaron sitting alone in his apartment his chest tight with the ache of a life devoid of meaning. The images were quickly consumed by the growing passion, the power of the telempathic connection growing between them. Aaron moaned, Del groaned, their cries blending the way their minds did, their bodies striving for the same prize, release and completion. A cessation of lives lived in a void of aching emptiness. An existence they’d both wanted to fill with another man. Del’s kiss, the way he touched Aaron, wasn’t the touch of someone in it for a night. The emotions rampaging along the mental connection promised more than sex, they promised stability, safety, and the desire for more than sex. Del’s mind spoke to him of loneliness, of the need for companionship, a craving for love. Love the firefighter was

eager to offer Aaron without any hesitation. His psi-talent really didn’t matter to Del, in fact, he accepted it, and the link forming between them, with a welcome and acceptance he’d never encountered from anyone in his life. Even his parents hadn’t fully come to terms with the fact their only child was a genetic freak. Aaron knew himself for a fool, or an utter moron, but he reached out through the link and accepted everything Del could offer in a silent agreement which required no spoken words. Not between a telempath and his lover. He didn’t know what would come of their relationship, and right now he didn’t care. What mattered was Del’s offer of love and companionship and the incredible experience they were sharing, their minds and bodies joined. Crying out, their bodies rocking to instinctual primitive needs rooted in thousands of years of humanity they went from having sex to being lovers in every sense of the word. Aaron felt tears blur his eyes and saw a smile of beatific happiness on Del’s face. No words, just love and the pleasure filling them as they rose higher and higher through the tiers of ecstasy, the link between them growing, strengthening becoming an unshakable bond they would never willingly break. Del gazed at him, and Aaron could feel the love flowing from the firefighter. He reached out with his psi-talent, pouring his own love into the other man’s soul as the growing power of Del’s emotions merged with his into something strong and pure, composed of ultimate trust and love. Their bodies moved to the quickening pace of desire, the slip and slide of Del’s cock inside him a counterpoint to the sensual caress of their thoughts, their emotions. Something warm, a glow like sunlight on a cold winter’s day, the warm rain of summer, the sweetness of spring, filled Aaron, spilling into the desolate loneliness of his existence. His own yearning filled even as he filled the emptiness within Del. They were two halves of a whole, two melodies which changed to become one song. Del’s hand closed around his cock, the duality of stroking and being stroked like a room of mirrors filing his mind. Each movement of hand and cock, of lips and tongue took Aaron farther and farther from his own mind. At the same time the experience sent him deeper into himself than he’d ever been. They knew one another as few lovers could. They knew one another’s minds and souls. Their fears and hopes, their jealousies and dreams were laid bare to one another. Every memory and aspiration, their very souls were bared, exposed and accepted. Del kissed him, their breaths mingling, tongues entangling. Sparks of passion lit Aaron’s mind as his release drew nearer with every stroke of Del’s cock within him, with every touch of Del’s hand around his erection. They were closing in on the final moments of their incredible journey of the mind and body, of their souls. The link between them alight with bright motes, embers of passion, of joy, of love filled their minds, suffusing their bodies with a warmth, a beauty neither of them had ever known in the arms of anyone else. Aaron gasped as his body and mind filled with a nova of expanding sensation, the crest of orgasm lifting him higher, taking his mind soaring amid the burst of matching ecstasy spilling into him from Del as his lover’s seed spilled into his body. Aaron cried out as his own semen spattered his belly as the link between them burst into a billion pinpoints of light. A galaxy of stars spun through their minds, dancing in their vision as bright constellations which spelled out a thousand names for love.

Chapter Five Del awoke with the weight of another man half on top of him. He smiled at the memory of last night and the mind-blowing sex he’d had with Aaron. He lay there with the blond in his arms, enjoying the feel of another man pressed to him. Relishing the soft tickle of each breath as Aaron continued to sleep, his cheek pillowed on Del’s chest. His cock was hard from more than a simple case of morning wood. He’d awakened wanting Aaron. Wanting more of the incredible experience they’d shared last night. I don’t want this to be over. And I don’t think Aaron does either. Being lovers is going to be complicated, but we can work something out. See one another when we’re both off work, whenever we can. My schedule is hell with so many days on shift, so many days off shift. I’ve got some seniority, I can request no more night duty shifts. Try and set my schedule up so we get some time together. Aaron muttered something Del couldn’t understand, and scooted closer, his body pressed tight to Del, the throb of Aaron’s erection against his thigh ramping up Del’s desire. I wonder if he’s hearing my thoughts in his sleep? Or if he’s sensing how much I want him? Are we going to always be connected? Or is it just because we’re touching? He could feel Aaron’s aroused state, the desire thrumming up from the telempath’s dreams, whispering passion and the promise of love and devotion directly into his mind. Del wanted Aaron, not for another round of pleasure, and not simply as his lover either. He wanted Aaron to be with him always in bond of marriage. But he wasn’t sure, under the circumstances, exactly how to ask, much less how they could get it through the approval process at Rowland. We can’t. They’re too worried about profits. They’d be losing the rental of this crap apartment and all the other charges that stem from it. Cheapass bastards. Aaron’s hand twitched where it lay on Del’s belly and he tried to clear his mind of everything, letting it go blank. He didn’t want to move, and he didn’t want to wake Aaron. The telempath had undergone quite an ordeal last night. They both had, really. A glance at the clock sent a jolt of shock through him. It was late morning, a few hours before he had to appear before the executives to give his deposition about the mine fire. There were a lot of things he had to do before then, not the least of which was picking up the jacket to his suit. The fit had been close, but not perfect, so he had to return to the store and get it. He could do it on the way to the deposition, he’d could leave a little early, which gave him more time with Aaron. What if he’s supposed to be at work right now? “No work,” Aaron mumbled, his arm sliding across Del’s waist, holding him in a way Del thought of as possessive. He wants me as much as I want him. And after last night it wasn’t a question. He knew it for fact. Aaron was as lonely as Del himself. Worse, because he couldn’t manage to take even an occasional casual lover. Too many of the suits knew about and were scared of his psi-talent. Or maybe they have things to hide.

Del had nothing to hide because he’d never cheated, stolen or lied about anything important to anyone. Executives, from what he knew about them, regularly did all of the above on a regular basis. Except Aaron. He’d seen everything that lay in Aaron’s mind. Knew Aaron’s fears, his hopes and dreams as well as he knew his own after last night’s encounter. They both wanted away from this mining colony. Rather, they both wanted out of Rowland Mining Corporation entirely. Del wanted out of it because he’d gone as far as he could with his job here, and Aaron wanted out because he was being suffocated by their underhanded business practices. The telempath didn’t have a shred of dishonesty in him, and the way Rowland screwed their workers out of their hard-earned pay grated on Aaron’s sense of fair play and his desire for honesty. They both wanted a fresh start at a good job away from the mining industry. Too bad they had no way to get off of the colony and go anywhere. It took money to leave a job, and that was something neither of them had in abundance. Too bad I had to blow part of my bonus on the stupid jacket and shirt. I’d almost have enough saved if it wasn’t for this stupid deposition. Del felt something—a hum or an odd vibration—fill his mind and he glanced down to find Aaron’s blue eyes regarding him. “Morning,” the blond said. Aaron smiled. “Morning,” he replied and stretched. The hard rod of Aaron’s cock bumped Del’s thigh, as if the telempath was trying to give him an unspoken hint. Del grinned, eager to take Aaron up on it if it was a hint. “What? Didn’t you get enough of my cock last night?” The telempath favored Del with a tiny smirk. “I won’t ever get enough of what we shared last night, Del. But—” the smirk faded into a tiny frown, “I don’t know what we’re going to do. Relationships between the executive branch and the work division aren’t exactly something upper management is going to approve of, no matter what we do.” “Well, despite the fact we’re working for Rowland, we do have a few rights left as human beings. There’s no actual rule about executive branch and working class being involved in a relationship. No fooling around between the divisions is one of those unspoken rules everyone knows, but it doesn’t actually exist because it would be an illegal violation of our rights.” “Yeah but those unwritten rules have a way of being enforced through other channels,” Aaron remarked, a trace of bitterness in his voice. “Like lateral promotions to a dead-end job with no hope of pay increases or working your way up to something better.” Del slipped his arms around Aaron and hugged him close. “I know you’re worried, but I’m sure we can figure something out. You know what they say, where there’s a will to do something, there’s a way to do it.” “I hope so, Del. I don’t want to lose this job. My career can’t take being fired again.” Del chuckled. “Well, think of it this way, if you do get booted off this rock they’ll ship you out to one of the space stations. Fired by Rowland or not, I’m sure you’ll find a better job.” “Yeah, great,” Aaron muttered and Del could feel the bitterness that filled his new lover over the last time he’d lost a job. “I’ll be shipped off and you’ll be stuck here. Being light years away from you is sure to make me feel better.”

Del hugged Aaron and gave him a kiss on the cheek. “My contract is fulfilled, Aaron. If they ship you out, I can make sure I’m on the same transport off this ball of misery.” “You make it sound so simple, but you know it’s not.” Del frowned, the feeling of bitter regret and unhappiness lapped at his mind. The emotions bleeding off Aaron flowed freely as if being poured out of a fatal wound. I’ve got to get him somewhere better than this, find better jobs for both of us at a corporation or somewhere they’ll let us live together. Somewhere that isn’t full of slimy worms like the executive branch of Rowland Mining. Aaron deserves a better job than this one, he really does. But where that job might be I have no clue. Most of the corporations don’t give a shit about anyone that works for them, especially people like me. “Don’t worry about it, Aaron. I’ll figure something out before the shit hits the rotary oscillating device.” Aaron arms tightened around Del and he gave a sigh. “I hope so, Del. I don’t know what I’m going to do. I want to be with you, but if we’re discovered and I lose my job—” “Don’t worry about it.” “I can’t help it. I could wind up in trouble over my relationship with you.” “They’ve got a lot of other things to worry about.” “Yeah, the fire, but it won’t take them long to find out about us. While most people don’t like suits down here, there are still enough people looking to make a fast buck that word will get to my bosses sooner or later.” “I’ll make the money to get us off this ball of rock soon enough,” Del remarked, and turned so he could place a light kiss on Aaron’s mouth. Aaron broke away from the kiss and shook his head. “Can you make it in two weeks?” Del frowned. “Two weeks? Probably not, but what makes you think we’ll need money so fast?” Aaron sat up, rubbing his temples as if his head ached, though Del couldn’t tell if the telempath was in pain or not. The unhappiness filling Aaron superseded every other emotion coming from him. “After that fire they may close the mine down. Profits were already falling and they were considering cutbacks or closure before the fire. Now that the mine is ruined, they’ll be much more inclined to close this operation down than to start another shaft. If they do close this place down, we might wind up transferred to different operations.” Del frowned at Aaron’s bad news, then he shook his head. “They have to get my approval for any transfer they want to make. My contract term is over, like I mentioned, so they have to send me where I want to go. If they transfer you, I’ll ask for an assignment wherever you’re being sent.” “You’re sure they’ll honor your request?” “It’s in the terms of the contract. I paid a firefighter’s union representative to get me the best deal the union could. The contract’s solid all the way through. I go where I want to go, not where they want to send me. Hell, I rotate to night duty here for the extra pay, not because they can force me to rotate. Now that my term’s over, I have the right to refuse night shift detail.” Del chuckled. “Not that night or day makes any difference since it’s black as pitch outside regardless.” Aaron nodded, but he still visibly appeared disheartened to Del. The feelings

churning inside him, the uncertainty, came through their temempathic bond as a grey pall Del could all but see hanging over his pretty blond lover. He cupped Aaron’s chin in his hand and forced the telempath to look at him. “I want you to listen to me.” Aaron’s blue eyes gazed at him, dulled by worry. “Are you listening?” Aaron nodded again. “We’re not going to be separated. No way in hell. After what happened between us last night I’m not letting anyone or anything come between us. I love you, Aaron. Now what we’re going to do is get cleaned up and have something to eat. I’ve got a deposition to take care of today, and so do you, I imagine.” Aaron’s eyes widened. “Oh shit!” he glanced at the digital clock glowing in the wall at the foot of the bed and bolted out of it, the sheet flying. “I’ve got to get going. I have to get showered, dressed and up to the meeting, and I’ve only got two hours before it starts.” Del watched Aaron as he scrambled round for his clothes, his firm butt and sleek body sending a jolt of pure lust through Del. Aaron smiled as he pulled his trousers on. “I’ll take you up on that offer tonight, Del. But right now I’ve got to get the hell back to my place and get ready or I will be in a lot of trouble with my bosses. And that, my beautiful firefighter, is an added complication our relationship does not need.” “I hear you, Aaron. And you’re right, the fewer things we do to call negative attention to us, the longer we’ll have to figure out what we’re going to do about everything.” Aaron pulled on his shirt. “We can talk more later.” Del got out of bed and handed Aaron his tie. “I can think of a few things I want to do,” he remarked, grinning. He searched the floor and found Aaron’s socks. “But they’re going to have to wait until later.” “I don’t know if I can make it back tonight or not. It will depend on when, and if, I have to be at work tomorrow.” Aaron put his tie on, tying the knot and straightening it quickly. “I’d come see you at your place but… that would call attention to us,” Del commented as he handed Aaron his socks. Aaron sat down on the bed and put on his socks and shoes. “I’ll call you and we can talk. I can get your number easily enough from the database.” Aaron stood and Del pulled the blond into his arms, kissed him and gave him a hug. “I’ll give you my schedule for the next few days when you call me. I’ll see you when you can get back here.” he said as he opened the door for Aaron. “You can count on it,” Aaron told him as he hurried out. Del closed the door, stared around the empty cubicle apartment. With Aaron gone it felt even smaller, emptier than it had when the telempath was sharing it with him. He just left and I miss him already. * Aaron listened to the woman who was replacing Jamison Leigh as she discussed the future of the operation on Rowland Mining’s Endurium Moon Three. “So the Board of Directors has decided to shut this operation down in the next four weeks. Employees are going to be moved to other mines as directed by our teams here, of

course.” Ms. Entwistle waited for the people gathered at the conference table to digest what she’d said. There were a few murmurs of agreement, none of them enthusiastic. The mine had only been in production for three years, and closing up operations would represent a large loss of investment for the company in equipment and modules used for mine operations and worker housing. And no one liked a red line in their executive resume. No matter the reason for it being there, the higher ups at any corporation always saw those as somehow being an interviewee’s fault, even if they were at the bottom rung of the decision making process. Wonderful, I get to add this to being fired from my last job. I’ll never find work at any reputable company. Might as well apply for whatever manual grunt work I can perform, like cleaning toilets and be done with it. The black mood filled him, eating into his hope for a better future like a worm gnawing out the inside of an apple. What am I going to do? I’m going to lose Del. That’s the worst part of this mess. And it’s not our fault. Not mine, not his, no one’s… The memory of the men burning, the humanoid shape in the flames returned and he blanked out on the present, lost to the horror of the fire, the screams. “Mister Halford, I know you’re probably finding my words boring, but could you do me the courtesy of pretending to pay attention?” Ms. Entwistle remarked, her tone biting and full of contempt. Her mouth pinched into a moue of disapproval and she added, “Unless you’d rather tell us what you were daydreaming about, Halford. Is she at least pretty?” Mister Sullivan, the fire operations manager, coughed gently. “Pardon me, Ms. Entwistle, but Mister Halford was one of two survivors of the fire which burned out the mine.” The woman’s disapproving expression didn’t change. “Then that’s all the more reason for him to be paying attention to what I’m speaking about, isn’t it, Mister Sullivan?” The room went silent as the legendary grave. Aaron, unsure where the words came from—he’d never been very brave when it came to speaking to superiors—looked her in the eye and said, “Actually, Ms. Entwistle, I was remembering my boss, Mister Leigh burning to death in the mine fire.” Ms. Entwistle’s jaw worked, a flush staining her cheeks. He could feel the embarrassment and anger simmering beneath the surface of her corporate mask. The false smiles and feigned concern, the knowing nods. They all had them, those faked expressions, everyone in the room wore them, hid behind them until they no longer knew their real feelings and those engendered by their job. Everyone but Aaron himself. “He nearly died, as did his assistant, Frank Cordwainer,” Sullivan added. “That’s right,” the manager of ore quality—Aaron thought his name was Parker or Perkins—added. “And Frank is in the mental health ward because the fire was too much for him to take.” Entwistle cleared her throat. “I see,” she picked up her glass of water and took a sip. “No sense in dwelling on this anymore. We’ve got work to do gentlemen. The mine’s being shut down, and the workers are being relocated. The equipment, and anything else that can be moved, will be moved.” She gave a curt nod. “That is all, you may return to your duties.”

“What about the depositions regarding the fire?” Sullivan asked. She shrugged. “What’s the point of an investigation? The mine’s being closed.” Aaron could feel the disgust coming from Sullivan. He even caught a thought, Another cover up. When will it end? Sullivan switched his attention to the woman’s thin figure. The thoughts after that didn’t bear intercepting. There were glances exchanged and Aaron got the distinct impression that most of the higher-level executives thought something was wrong with the closing and the investigation being cancelled. No one said a word though. Not a single word. He knew how those men had died. There’d been a pyrokinetic in the mine. That was the only explanation Aaron had for what had happened down there. He’d thought all morning about the fire, the feeling he’d had of someone filled with rage, the way he’d been unable to pinpoint the person’s location. It all added up. A psi-talent had started the fire. Frank wasn’t crazy, he was telling the truth, but no one would believe him. Aaron knew better than to say anything. He’d only wind up in the mental health ward beside Frank. Never mind he was a psi-talent also and had felt the other psi in the mine before the fire started. It wouldn’t matter. The mine was being closed and Rowland’s executives didn’t care how or why Jamison Leigh, Fred Stanton and fifty-three miners had burned to death. The investigation would take time, and time, as they said, was money. Rowland didn’t intend to spend any more money, or time, on Endurium Moon Three. They’d close it, take the hit to their profit margin, write it off in taxes, and that would be it. Men were dead, and they didn’t care. Employees were the cheapest thing Rowland had in their pool of assets. Impotent anger filled Aaron, but he fought the emotion down, not wanting any trace of it to get away from him and touch those around him. He didn’t want anyone to know how he felt about the terrible injustice taking place. Those people had families. Loved ones on distant worlds, perhaps even Old Earth, who were waiting for them to come home. Deep in his heart Aaron knew Rowland wouldn’t even provide the required death benefit and insurance payments. They’d wiggle their slimy selves out of paying anything to the families of their deceased employees. They’d keep money to pad their profit margin. It’s what they did. I don’t want to work for them anymore. I can’t keep watching this stuff happening. Workers being fucked out of their pay, their medical benefits and now their death benefits. Aaron followed the others out of the conference room. He started for his cubicle, but a voice stopped him. “In my office, Halford!” His heart thudded, beating a wild erratic rhythm in his chest. Aaron turned to see Mister Osmar, the manager of human resources, standing at the door of his office, glaring at him. They’ve found out about us. They must have had someone report I was in Del’s apartment all night. He stepped into Osmar’s office. “Sit,” the man barked. He dropped into the chair and waited. Osmar closed the door of his office, went around his desk and sat down. Leaning back in his chair he said, “I’ve been authorized to extend your sick leave for a few more

days. Do you want the time or do you want to get back to work?” I want the time so I can be with Del. But if I take it, that’s going to be a sign I’m not a team player. At this point in the game I can’t afford anymore blots on my resume. But… they’re closing the mine… “To be honest, the management team wants you to take the time, Halford. You don’t look well.” Aaron shrugged. “I feel—” Osmar shook his head. “You’re going to tell me you feel fine, but we both know what a load of BS that is, don’t we?” Aaron sighed. “I—” The manager cut him off again, “Aaron, come on, we know you saw Jamison and Fred die. That’s the one believable bit from Frank’s story we can all accept. It’s what cracked his mind, according to the psych department. His mind is confused, but they’re sure he’ll come out of it given some time and therapy.” Aaron nodded, not trusting himself to speak. He could blurt out that Frank had seen a man of fire, tell them he’d sensed the pyrokinetic but not understood who he’d been sensing. Of course that would be the end of his career and the end of any hope he’d have of a life with Del. But it would also draw attention to the truth, or at least what he thought was the truth. I have no proof, none. Suspicion, yes but… without proof it’s hopeless to bring it up to anyone. The mine was being closed, and that wouldn’t change no matter what he said or did. Del. What are we going to do? I just found you, and now I’m going to lose you. There’s got to be a way for us to stay together. Maybe we’ll both be going to Moon Four. “It’s the mine closing that’s got you bothered, isn’t it?” Aaron snapped out of his reverie. “It’s a lot of things, sir.” Osmar gave an understanding nod, though Aaron could tell the man really didn’t have a clue about what Aaron was feeling. The fire had been horrible, nightmarish. Bad as it had been, the thought of losing Del was so painful he was having trouble breathing. “Go home. Get some rest. If you feel like it, come back in the morning, do your job and don’t worry about the closing. They’re probably going to ship the entire crew to Endurium Moon Five, which they just announced would be set up and ready to go in four days.” “Moon Five? When did they decide to open Moon Five?” “About a week ago.” “Oh.” The reply hid a volume of suspicion, of terrible speculation going on in Aaron’s mind. Moon Three wasn’t producing the volume of ore that Rowland’s top executives wanted to see pouring out of it, but they couldn’t justify moving the operation to the government. As long as the mine was producing the critical ore needed for their military contract, it had to stay running twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week with no holidays. But with the mine burned out, the shafts ruined and the easily mined ore turned to slag, it meant they could move to a moon with better potential. It meant they could shut down a losing venture and work on something more profitable. Fifty-five people dead including the miners, Mister Leigh, Mister Stanton and the

mine supervisors they were talking with when the fire started. If Frank and I hadn’t gotten to the safe room, and if the fire crew hadn’t come for us, the death toll would have been fifty-seven. “Go on, get some rest. Come back when you’re ready.” Aaron nodded and stood. “Thank you sir,” he said leaning across the desk to shake hands with Osmar. The manager didn’t move to shake hands, further adding to Aaron’s suspicions. They wanted the mine to burn. They wanted to move these people to another colony so they had someone burn the mines. That way they didn’t have to run a losing operation. People died for their bottom line and there’s not shit anyone who knows what happened can do about it. Sick to the bottom of his soul, Aaron left the offices and headed for the lifts. He’d go home, change clothes and head for Del’s place. He couldn’t do a damn thing about the people who were dead, but he could at least talk to the firefighter, vent his frustration and let the older man soothe his anguish to some degree. I hate this place. I hate this company and I want out of it. He got home and went inside. He felt ill, and he wanted to feel the arms of his lover around him. Del couldn’t change things, but being with the firefighter made Aaron feel better. And right now he couldn’t think of anywhere he wanted to be other than in the arms of his lover. Lover. The man he loved and who loved him. After the way their very thoughts had meshed he knew how Del felt about him. The two of them were one in a way which amazed and shocked Aaron as much as it thrilled him. Another man loved him, freakish psi-talent and all; Del actually loved him. He took off his suit, hung it in the dry cleaning compartment, pushed the button and headed for his closet to find something he could wear in the workers area without calling attention to himself. He had a ratty pair of jeans he’d worn in college and an equally rundown t-shirt or his workout attire which looked exactly like what it was: the workout clothes of a suit. He chose the jeans and t-shirt and slipped into his gym shoes. He considered eating but thought better of it. He could take them out for a meal—if such places existed on the worker’s levels—if Del wanted to go out. Aaron stepped out of his apartment and headed for the lift. He got there, pushed the button and waited. After a moment he frowned. Something brushed along his telempathic awareness. Something angry and resentful. He turned, saw a flash of red hair and a fist coming for his face. *Del!* He instinctively screamed his lover’s name across their mental bond. Stars blazed through his vision and Aaron’s last conscious thought was of his most recent encounter with stars. The glitter of telempathic stars which had spelled out a thousand words for love.

Chapter Six All depositions had been cancelled, so Del was only too happy to get a refund— minus a restock fee, of course—for the coat and shirt he’d bought. Happy to have most of his bonus funds returned to his account, he headed home to relax. He planned to enjoy a couple hours of playing a sim or getting in some much-needed study for the next set of exams which would up his pay grade, and possibly get him a better job… elsewhere. He stepped off the lift two blocks from his cubicle, and was three steps down the corridor when his mental connection with Aaron surged into hyperactivity. He’s in trouble! filled his thoughts as the telepathic shout reached him. *Del!* Del stumbled and it was all he could do not to fall over in the hallway. He crashed against a wall and leaned there with his back pressed to the cool structural plastic. Each breath came in a panicked gasp, and his entire body shook from the sensation which had blasted him through the link. He’d gotten a glimpse of something red, felt the impact of a fist against his jaw, saw a burst of spinning stars shoot across his vision as blackness closed around him. But it wasn’t him, it was Aaron who’d experienced the attack. Del’s heart hammered in his chest and he stood where he was, waiting for the shakes and the fear to pass. While the fear wasn’t his, the blast of emotion from Aaron had rattled him. Aaron, who’d been in lots of fights, had never even tried to defend himself. He was too scared of what he might do, what might happen if his psi-talent got away from him. Aaron was hurt. In danger. Del knew it. Why anyone would attack his lover he didn’t know, and it didn’t matter. What mattered was finding Aaron before it was too late. I should get the cops. No, that won’t help. I don’t have time to explain any of this to them. Something told him Aaron was in deep trouble. Deadly trouble and every second he spent was a second Aaron no longer had. He closed his eyes and focused on the thread of connection he could feel linking them. How he did it Del wasn’t sure, but he sensed where Aaron was. In a lift, heading down toward the fire-ruined mine. Del shoved away from the wall, stumbled the first few steps and he headed for the miner’s lifts farther along the corridor. The pull of the bond between Aaron and him led Del onward with a sense of increasing urgency. A hand closed on his forearm and he spun, lashing out with a fist. “Shit!” Woman’s voice. His mind wrapped around and identified it before his fist connected. He froze, his fist less than an inch from Rio’s nose. Her mascara-rimmed brown eyes were wide and showed a trace of fear. “Damn it Del. That would have hurt.” “I told you not to fucking sneak up on me, didn’t I?” He turned and stalked toward the lifts. “Yeah, okay, point made,” Rio said as she followed him. “Where are you going? Those are the mine lifts.” “I don’t have time to explain,” Del replied as he punched the call button.

“Del, why in hell are you going down there?” He turned and met Rio’s confused gaze. “My boyfriend’s in trouble.” She blinked. Stared, her mouth forming a surprised ‘O’ then closing with a click. “I thought you were unattached.” “I was until last night.” The elevator beeped as the door opened. A digital voice said, “The mine is closed. Please await further instructions on your new job detail. Thank you. This has been a message from the Rowland Mining Company management. Have a nice day.” Del stepped into the lift. “If he’s in trouble you might need help,” Rio stated and stepped into the lift. Del set his hand over her sternum and pushed her back, gently but firmly. “Not this time, Rio. He’s in real trouble.” She batted at his hand. “Del, we’re partners. If your guy is in trouble, then it’s my trouble too.” “Go tell the peacekeepers, then. We’ll be in the mine somewhere.” She opened her mouth to protest but Del shoved her out of the lift roughly and hit the ‘close door’ button. “Damn it, Del you—” but the door shut and that was all he heard. The lift dropped rapidly, heading into the depths of the moon, slowing when it reached the most recently mined level. The acrid stench of the fire hit Del like a physical blow. The fumes burned his throat with the first breath he took but it wouldn’t deter him from finding Aaron. He closed his eyes and concentrated on following the mental bond. He took a few steps into the darkened mine and stopped. The lights near the lifts were operational, but their glow didn’t reach very far into the Stygian gloom of the shaft. Once out of their radius he’d be unable to see. Whoever took Aaron and brought him down here would have been prepared for that eventuality. Del stepped away from the lifts and hurried toward the equipment room, praying it held the usual assortment of spare gear miners might need if something broke during working hours. He found the room, tried the door, it was locked. Now what? He knew the answer. Aaron’s life depended on him. He focused his unreliable psitalent the same way he’d done during the fire. Del made a shoving motion which ended with both his palms pressed flat to the metal door. He heard a faint groan of sound, but the door didn’t move. Aaron doesn’t have much time. Del tried again, setting his shoulder against the door this time. He used his psi, pushed with his mind and body this time. It creaked and something gave with a loud crack of sound. The door swung inward. Del went in and dug around on the shelves. All he came up with was a supervisor’s headlamp but it was better than nothing. It would also make him a very obvious target for whoever had Aaron. He put the helmet on, switched on the headlamp and ran out. Don’t let him have a gun. Moving at a fast jog, Del hurried along the main shaft. The stink of the fire and his pace made his lungs burn. There wasn’t much air in the tunnels and the corporation hadn’t bothered to refresh the atmosphere in the mine since then.

Del had to slow down long before he found Aaron and the man who’d taken him. Which was something else that bothered Del. Why would someone take Aaron with the intent to hurt, possibly even kill him? It couldn’t have anything to do with their relationship. He didn’t have a lover who would be jealous of Aaron and want him out of the way. What in hell is going on? He heard a sound ahead and moved closer to the wall and shut off the head lamp. “Why are you doing this?” Aaron’s voice, the words mumbled. Del reached out mentally to his lover, trying to tell him he was there, that he’d stop whatever the other man was doing. He got the mental equivalent of white noise, Aaron dazed and hurt. He’s been hit in the head. Not good. I have to get to him fast. Del moved along the slag-coated wall, using his hand to guide himself down the tunnel through the pitch blackness. “You’re the telepath, why don’t you tell me why I’m going to kill you?” Del felt his heart lurch. He knew the voice of the man who’d taken Aaron. Dear God, that’s Cameron. What the hell is going on here? “You’re psi too.” “Of course, how else could this have been accomplished?” “You’re hurting me!” Aaron cried out. “Poor little suit. You weren’t supposed to survive the fire, none of you were. You’ve left me with a loose end my boss wants tied up.” He heard Cameron laugh, the sound sending a chill up Del’s spine. He’d fucked Cameron, let the red-haired man sleep in his bed beside him, but he hadn’t realized the man was a killer. Del edged forward and caught sight of the dim glow of an LED flashlight in the gloom. In the narrow pool of light he could see Aaron’s pallid face, eyes wide with horror as Cameron wrapped tape around his chest. His arms and legs were already bound at wrists and ankles. “I didn’t tell anyone it was you!” Aaron blurted out. “Doesn’t matter,” Cameron replied as he put one final wrap of tape around Aaron’s chest. “You’ve got to die. Not only do you know about me, but, as I said, my boss wants you out of the picture.” Del chose the moment Cameron leaned down to tear the piece of tape free of the roll to race forward. He hit Cameron midway up the man’s body in a tackle that sent both of them to the ground. “Del, be careful, he’s a pyrokinetic!” Aaron warned him. Del rolled off of Cameron as the man’s entire body burst into flame, the fire licking out and singeing Del’s left arm. He rolled to his feet and dodged a hurled maelstrom of fire that screamed through the air to impact with a dull boom on the wall. So this is what Rio and I heard. It was Cameron creating superheated air along with the gas pockets in the ore. “You should have minded your own business, Delmar,” Cameron sneered. The fire wreathing him filled the shaft with heat. The intensity of the fire around him threatened to set the ore on fire for the second time. Toxic fumes spilled from the floor where Cameron’s feet touched and Del had to retreat from the stench and the heat. “What are you going to do big man? You’ve got nothing protecting you from the fire

this time.” Del had to do something, but he didn’t have anything to use as a weapon. Nothing but his hands and military training, which gave him little chance against someone with major psi-talent. What he did have was his own unreliable psi-talent and an overpowering need to keep Aaron safe. “Hey!” Aaron shouted. “Did you forget about me?” Cameron is trying to kill us both and he calls attention to himself! Is he crazy? Cameron spun around and raised his hand to toss a blast of fire toward the telempath, which gave Del a second in which to act. He whipped off the safety helmet and, holding it by the brim, slammed it into the back of Cameron’s head with all the strength he had, adding his telekinesis to the effort. The helmet hit Cameron solidly, an instant before the hard plastic outer shell ignited, and the blast of fire he’d aimed at Aaron missed. Cameron staggered and dropped to one knee, the fire surrounding him winking out. Del’s hands were burned. It didn’t matter. Nothing mattered but keeping Aaron safe. He gritted his teeth, took a step forward and kicked Cameron under the chin. The pyrokinetic went down in a sprawl, and lay there, dazed and bleeding. His fingers twitched, which proved to Del the pyrokinetic wasn’t unconscious. Del pulled his foot back ready to kick the man a second time. He didn’t get a chance. Fire erupted around Cameron. The flames reached out to drive Del away from the downed pyrokinetic. “Son of a…” Cameron snarled and spit blood as he struggled to stand. The fire chased Del, making him move farther away. With nothing to lose, Del took mental hold of his own telekinetic ability and hurled it at Cameron in an act of desperation as the first tongue of flame licked across his left thigh. “Bastard!” Aaron screamed, as Cameron shrieked and clutched at his head with both hands. The fire surrounding him flashed out of existence as Del swatted out the flames on his jeans with his already burned hands. He glanced at Cameron and saw the redhead move, a soft agonized groan coming from him. Eyes narrowed in anger, Del walked to Cameron and kicked him in the side of the head. Cameron went still. Del knelt down to make sure the guy was out cold. Satisfied the son of a dog wasn’t going to get up again, he hurried to Aaron. “You’re hurt,” they said in unison, Del looking at Aaron’s bruised and bloodied face, while Aaron looked at Del’s hands and left leg with worry. “I’ll be okay,” they both replied. Despite the pain Del laughed and helped Aaron out of the tape. He was about to help his lover to stand when they heard a lot of noise coming down the tunnel toward them. “What did you do to Cameron that kept him from burning me to death?” Del asked. “I… don’t know. That’s the truth, Del. I don’t. He was going to kill you and I reached out with my mind and, I don’t know.” “It’s okay,” Del soothed. Forcing his hands to work, he got a grip on the tape and started tearing it loose. It hurt, but he could bear a lot more pain than this, and had done so in the past. “I don’t know, but he said someone grabbed his boyfriend. I told you that’s all I know,” Rio’s voice carried ahead of the new arrivals. They could see light coming up the

tunnel, and the dark shapes of a number of people coming toward them. “The proverbial cavalry has arrived,” Del murmured and gave Aaron a quick kiss. “Who’s the woman?” “Her name’s Rio. You met her briefly while she took care of you in the medical pod.” Aaron nodded. “I remember now.” “How in hell can we explain this?” Aaron asked, glancing from Del to the unconscious Cameron, then resting his head on Del’s shoulder. Del put his arms around Aaron, ignoring the burns in an effort to comfort his lover. “With the truth,” Del replied. “All of it that you know.” Aaron nodded, accepting Del’s decision, which surprised him. Perhaps Aaron realized as Del did—no matter what came of the mess they were in, they’d find a way to get through it: together. **** Aaron was sitting at a table in the fire control break room. The sounds of the firefighters watching something on vid—it sounded like a sporting event of some kind— reached him through the open door. He stared into the mug of instant coffee he’d been given and breathed slow and even, the way he’d been instructed. An IV dripped fluid into his arm, something to help offset the toxic effects of breathing the air in the mine. His eyes were watering, but this time they were tears as he sat there crying. Del, his wonderful, brave Del, had come to save him. Had saved him, with a small assist from him. And where the courage had come from to lash out at the pyrokinetic, Aaron couldn’t have said. But he had done his best to protect Del using his psi-talent in ways he’d always refused to try in the past, no matter how much someone hurt him. That’s it, he wasn’t hurting me then, he was hurting Del. A gentle hand came to rest on his shoulder. “Do you feel up to talking?” Aaron glanced up at Mister Sullivan. “About what, sir?” The man pulled a chair out from the table and sat down across from Aaron. “What you saw the day of the mine fire.” Aaron shrugged. “I saw people die, the mine burning. What more is there to tell?” Sullivan’s level gaze met his eyes and he could feel the man’s thoughts tapping at his mind like a finger prodding his forehead. His thoughts came through clearly. Just tell me and we can finally do something about the unconscionable crap going on here. “Please, Mister Halford. If not for yourself, then for the men who died.” “What about Del?” he asked, changing the subject, not ready to take the step that would probably get him blacklisted from any respectable job in the executive branch of every corporate entity in human space. “He’s a tough old bird. Bet you didn’t know he served in the Unified Marines. Really, I wouldn’t worry about him if I were you.” “I know he was a soldier,” Aaron admitted. “But his hands were burned really bad.” “And by morning the burns will be healing scars. Like I said, he’s tough. Got some nanite modifications installed by the military. It’s why he gets paid the big bucks here,” Sullivan added. He motioned to Aaron’s coffee. “Want a warm up?” Aaron shook his head. “No, thank you, sir.” “There’s no one here going to say anything to Entwistle, if that’s what you’re

worried about. We’ve already come to the conclusion she arrived too fast, considering Leigh and Stanton weren’t even dead three days. She showed up to take Leigh’s place before the mine was even cool. Pretty fishy if you get my drift.” “I do sir,” Aaron replied. He was trying hard not to think about what any of this mess meant. He didn’t want to know. Didn’t want to be involved, but he was involved up to his eyebrows, and he couldn’t see a way out of the situation. He remembered what Del said. Del had told him to tell the truth. If that’s what he wants me to do, then that’s what I should do. He took a sip of the coffee. It was cold. “Come on, Halford, show some backbone. Prove yourself worthy of the man who apparently loves you.” Aaron almost dropped the cup of coffee. “Excuse me… I…” Sullivan shook his head. “No need to deny it, Halford. Del hasn’t stopped babbling about us making sure you’re safe and aren’t hurt. He wouldn’t act like a damn fool over another man unless there was some sort of attachment. I know him pretty well; he’s been with my team for going on three years now.” Aaron stared at the cup. “I… see.” “Now, tell me what the hell happened. I may not be Jamison with the ear of the corporate big wigs, but I’ve got low friends in high places. If you tell me what happened, I swear I’m going to try and make Rowland do what’s right for once.” “That man… I think Del said his name is Cameron?” Sullivan nodded. “That’s right. Cameron McDaniels. Go on.” “He’s a pyrokinetic.” “Yes, Del said so. Sort of means the theory of Frank being crazy goes right out the window, especially since Del and his partner Rio both saw a man made of fire too.” “Yes sir, it does. We both saw Cameron during the mine fire. He set Mister Leigh and Mister Stanton and those mine supervisors on fire as we watched. He tried to burn us too, but Frank got us out of there before the car started to burn.” Sullivan gave a nod of his head as encouragement and said, “Go on, tell me the rest. Even if you don’t have proof, I want to hear what you think is going on.” “Cameron admitted he was told to start the fire. I guess he might even have been brought here to start it, but I don’t know that for sure. I don’t know him, or how long he’s been here.” “He’s been here about six weeks,” Sullivan informed. “Or roughly about the time the mine started showing signs of reduced production.” Aaron rubbed his temples and struggled to get his thoughts in order. He was tired, and the stress of trying to explain his suspicions about what had happened was a further strain on his already tired mind. His head hurt, a dull ache at the back of his head that wouldn’t go away. I wonder if attacking him strained something, sort of like pulling a muscle or something. He sighed. “Please, Aaron, tell me what you suspect. I don’t need proof, I’m sure that can be found in due time.” “Someone gave Cameron the order to set the fire, and I think the deaths were also part of it. Cameron said neither Frank nor I were supposed to survive the fire. He called me a loose end and implied his boss wanted me taken care of.” Aaron shuddered at the

memory of the crazed gleam of Cameron’s eyes as he’d said that, the man acting as if he enjoyed killing. Oh God, that’s it, he does like killing people. He covered his eyes with his hands and fought the tears that seeped from beneath his closed eyelids. It’s why I had so much trouble sensing him. The insane are difficult for me to read, but a sociopath has to be worse. Insane people are like a closed book to me, all I can see is the cover, not what’s written on the pages inside. A hand touched his wrist and Aaron looked up to see Del standing there, smiling down at him. Del was in clean, unburned clothes, and his hands were bandaged, but other than that he did look just fine. More than fine, he looked wonderful. Aaron stood and threw his arms around Del. “I was so worried. Are you really okay?” “I’m really okay.” Aaron hugged him, and rose on his toes slightly so he could kiss Del and be damned with executive/worker rules. There are no actual rules. We’re allowed to be in love. Del hugged him and returned the kiss. After a moment he gripped Aaron’s biceps and gently urged him to sit down. “It’s going to be okay, Aaron. Tell Sullivan the truth. Nothing bad is going to happen to you, I promise.” “I trust you, Del.” He sagged into the chair. “I can’t prove anything, but… Osmar asked me some weird questions today. I suspect he’s in on it, but not the person who gave the order for the fire.” “Osmar, the human resources manager?” Sullivan asked. “Yes.” “Why do you think he’s in on it?” Del stood behind him and rested his hands gently on Aaron’s shoulders, offering support and his comforting touch. “He would have seen Cameron’s personnel file. And, as I said, he asked a lot of odd questions. He also sent me home. Insisted that I go, in fact. And if I hadn’t gone home, the pyrokinetic couldn’t have grabbed me the way he did.” “So Osmar. Who else?” “Our new Director of Operations.” “Entwistle?” Sullivian questioned. “People like her aren’t sent to places like this, they ask to come.” “Good point. So she’s the one that gave the order?” “I think so.” “So she gave the order, then got on the transport and arrived in time to take charge of the situation before anyone else did,” Sullivan remarked. “Like I said, what proof is there?” Sullivan shrugged. “Don’t worry about proof. In fact, you don’t have to worry about any of this from now on. You and Del go rest and forget about this crap. It’s going to be taken care of, and your name isn’t ever going to come up. As far as anyone’s concerned I stumbled on it myself after doing a bit of off-the-clock investigating. If anyone gets a blot on their resume over this, it’s going to be me, young man.” He stared at the older man. “Why?” “Because some of those guys who died were friends of mine and they deserve better than this.”

Which was all the answer Aaron needed. “Come on, love,” Del said, “let’s go to my place and get some rest. You look tired.” “I am,” Aaron agreed. Together they returned to Del’s room, closed and locked the door, got undressed and went to bed, Aaron lying beside his firefighter and all-around hero. He felt safe, and loved for the first time in … he didn’t know how long. But it felt good. Real good. So did Del’s arms around him as they fell asleep.

Chapter Seven Del set his bags down inside the small closet of the freighter’s cabin. He still couldn’t believe they were leaving Moon Three days ahead of the other workers. More to the point, they weren’t working for Rowland anymore. Sullivan had given him a glowing letter of reference, and hooked him up with a job. He’d be a fire control supervisor on a booming agricultural planet called New London where they actually had nobility, complete with kings, queens and all the rest of the titles that went along with them. The job was at the capitol city of Londonton. Best of all, it paid double what he’d been making for Rowland. Even better, Aaron had secured a job working for the New London University in a department that dealt with training psi-talented people. He’d still be a suit, of course, but he’d be a suit with a prestigious job more in line with his personality. Best of all, the job came with a housing voucher that allowed for a family. Family. I like the sound of that, I really do. I wonder how Aaron feels about kids. There are lots of kids who could use a family. Orphans from the last war. I bet with jobs like this we could easily adopt a kid. They had plenty of time to talk about it. The rest of their lives, in fact. Guess I’m getting ahead of myself. Aaron hasn’t agreed to anything permanent yet. Not officially anyway. Del glanced at the bed. It wasn’t much bigger than the one they’d shared in his cubicle apartment, but it would do for the three weeks the freighter would take to reach the station where they’d pick up the cargo ship bound for New London. There were storage cabinets set in the walls, and a small table and two chairs bolted to the floor. They had a food chiller and a cooking unit so they could eat in their cabin if they chose to do so. Well it’s not much, but it’s home for the next few weeks. He got out two dinners and tossed them into the microwave and set the timer. Aaron should be arriving soon and he could hit the button and get the food cooking while Aaron settled in. They could have a nice romantic dinner for two and then do the thing Del very much wanted to do with Aaron. They could make love. Okay, how romantic is nuke-and-eat food? Maybe we should skip the food. Maybe I should have gotten take-out from one of the fancy restaurants on the executive end of the colony. Maybe I should let Aaron decide what we’re going to eat. I don’t even know if he likes lasagna. His decision to ask Aaron to marry him made Del nervous, edgy. He needed to calm down, relax and let the uneasiness subside, but knowing that and doing it were two different things. The frozen meals sort of spoiled the mood, but Del didn’t care. What mattered was they were together. He also had had a surprise for Aaron. One he hoped would be well received. Filled with an abundance of nervous energy, he stowed his clothes and personal things in some of the cabinets, leaving the closet for Aaron’s suits. The door of the cabin swung open and Del turned around, a smile lighting his face.

“I had to get help from some guys to get my bags here. I hope this stuff all fits,” Aaron remarked as he stepped inside and let two burly miners—Del recognized the men from his last time in the club—carry in his luggage and a few plastic crates. “I didn’t realize all the things I had until I had to pack it,” Aaron added as he slipped an arm around Del’s waist. “Oh, I’m sorry. Where are my manners? Del I want you to meet Hagen and Cedric Miller-Warren. They’ve been married five years. Guys, this is my boyfriend, Delmar Preson.” Del couldn’t hide his surprise. “You’re a married couple?” “Sure are,” the dark-haired Hagen replied and shook Del’s hand. “You’re one of the firefighters. Good to meet you, I’ve got only the highest respect for firefighters.” “We’d better get going before this freighter gets underway. Nice meeting you both. Good luck,” Cedric said as the married couple left. Del pulled away from Aaron and locked the door, and smiled at Aaron. “That’s it then. We’re through with Rowland for good,” he remarked. Aaron smiled. “Yes, we are.” He crossed the short space between them and looped his arms around Del. He looked up expectantly. “Something you want?” Del’s cock was hard and aching from the smoldering look in Aaron’s blue eyes. “Umhmm.” “What might that be?” Del asked. Aaron’s hand closed on his crotch. “Is this a fire hose or are you happy to see me?” Del laughed at the joke though he’d heard it a few times before. Somehow Aaron saying it made the joke a lot funnier. “You did not just say that.” “Oh yes I did,” Aaron replied as he unbuttoned Del’s jeans. “You’re awfully pushy.” “I’m a suit, I’m used to being in charge.” Del raised an eyebrow. “Really?” He thought about it. “Yeah, come to think of it, you do sort of take charge, don’t you?” “You just noticed?” “Yeah, I’m a bit slow.” “I like a slow fuck, so you’re hired.” Del laughed again as Aaron stripped his clothes off and tossed them aside. “Can we talk about this?” Del asked. “No.” Hand firmly wrapped around Del’s erection, Aaron led him toward the bed. “Um, aren’t you forgetting something?” Aaron frowned. “Like what?” Del tugged on Aaron’s suit jacket. “Minor detail, but you’re still dressed.” “Good point. Small oversight on my part.” He let go of Del’s cock and stood there. “Do I have to do everything?” Del chuckled. “What’s gotten into you?” “Nothing, that’s the problem. There’s been a serious lack of cock over the last few years and I want to change that, starting immediately.” “Ah. Well, who am I to stand in the way of a man that knows what he wants?” He helped Aaron out of his suit. “Now where were we?” Aaron asked, reaching for Del’s erection.

Del evaded, pulled Aaron into his arms in a tight embrace, his mouth closing over Aaron’s in a possessive kiss. Their tongues met in passion, their cocks pressed to each other and so it began. The physical contact was quickly joined by the touch of their minds in an embrace of greater intimacy than flesh could attain. Del scooped Aaron up and carried him to bed. He lay Aaron down, his weight on top of the smaller man, and looked into the wide blue eyes. Concentrating, he thought, I love you. Aaron smiled. *I can hear you. Is that how you found me? Did you follow the telepathic link between us?* Del nodded and leaned down to claim the man’s sexy mouth for a passionate kiss. Aaron’s lips parted and Del thrust his tongue inward, fully possessing his lover’s mouth. Aaron’s arms wrapped around him, his hands running over the muscles of Del’s shoulders, fingers digging in gently. *I love how you feel, the way your body looks when you’re naked,* Aaron sent the words directly into Del’s mind. He ended the kiss, smiled at Aaron. “I love everything about you,” he replied and kissed the bruise on the side of Aaron’s face where Cameron had punched him. Aaron winced, and Del felt the flash of soreness as if it were his own. “He really hit you hard, didn’t he?” Del asked. He reached between them to grip Aaron’s erection. The lightning strike flash of bliss crossed the link from Aaron to Del and he grinned. “Is this what you had in mind?” “Not exactly,” Aaron replied and a vivid image of him fucking Aaron slid into Del’s mind, clear as a simvid the mental picture went straight to his libido. “Oh, I do like how you think,” Del commented and reached under the pillows. His hand touched something small and fuzzy, but he pushed it aside and found the cool plastic bottle of lube he wanted. He held it up for Aaron to see. “Want to do the honors?” Aaron nodded slowly, took the bottle and popped the cap. “I umm… bought seven bottles,” he admitted, a blush coloring his cheeks. “Seven? Don’t you think that’s an awful lot?” “No,” Aaron replied, blushing even more. Del laughed. “I guess we won’t need to use that ratty gym we saw much then, will we?” Aaron shook his head and poured some lube over Del’s erection. The cool liquid felt icy over his hot flesh and Del shivered slightly, amused to see Aaron copy the motion as if his cock were the one being chilled. When his cock was slick Aaron scooted onto the bed and held out his arms, welcoming Del into bed with the silent greeting of a telempath, love flowing out to wrap around Del’s mind. Del joined Aaron on the bed, lifting the slender blond’s legs over his shoulders. His eyes absorbed the beauty of the other man’s body. Del took in the way the light glinted in golden highlights on the scattering of hair running from Aaron’s navel to the neatly trimmed curls of his crotch. Aaron’s hair was pale as frost everywhere. *I enjoy looking at you too, Del, but if you don’t put that cock where it will do me some good, I’m going to have to find another way of appeasing my need.* Del grinned and slid his cock into Aaron’s waiting entrance, taking it slow, letting Aaron’s body adjust. Aaron squirmed under him and Del leaned down to give him a

rough, possessive kiss. Their minds slid together in a dance as sinuous as the movement of their tongues. Del’s hips moved, driving his erection into Aaron’s body, the telempath crying out, the sound muffled by their kiss. The cry which came through their link sang to Del’s soul, the melody one of love, bliss and happiness beyond anything Aaron had ever known. Del touched Aaron, praising his lover’s body with his hands, possessing and being possessed as their bodies and minds united. Soft cries of pleasure came from both of them as they continued to kiss and share their love. * Aaron clung to Del, every motion of his lover’s cock inside him, each touch of Del’s hands, his lips sent him higher and higher on the climb toward completion and the point where their minds and bodies merged in a perfection of ecstasy. He wanted to feel their minds blending into a single shining entity, to achieve the fulfillment of everything they were and could become. Two men bound by love and a desire for acceptance. As a solider, Del had killed. As a psi-talent, Aaron was regarded as a freak by many people. All either one of them wanted was love. Del kissed him, giving him everything he was, without reservation, and Aaron answered with his own bared soul, the two of them a balance. The soldier turned firefighter, and the scared executive who’d found the courage to fight for the man he loved. They were in balance, a perfect match. Del’s slow pace picked up as the power of the telempathic link wrapped the dual sensations around them. Fucking and being fucked, touching and touched, the feel of lips on skin, tongues tangling together in an erotic dance which reached into their very souls. They cried out, their voices blending, their minds echoing the sounds of passion. Aaron reached between them to grip his weeping cock, stroking it, feeling the mirrored pleasure surging through Del. His lover thrust faster, deeper, their bodies picking up the pace, heading for the culmination, the completion of the act of love. Flesh strained toward the instant when they would have complete merging, minds and bodies becoming one in a blaze of love. Aaron could feel it, the wildness of unleashed passion building within him and he stroked his own aching cock faster and faster, his breath coming in ragged gasps, Del’s hazel gaze on him, on his face. He saw himself through Del’s eyes, saw himself as something beautiful, a man who was loved. The sadness which had filled his heart for so long shattered into fragments that melted like ice in the noonday sun. They reached the peak, and words of love filled their minds as their bodies crested over the peak. *Del!* Aaron cried out his lover’s name mentally and with his voice as he came, his lover’s deep voice groaning in reply, the intensity of what they shared bursting across their mental link in a kaleidoscope of colors bright as their love. For a moment Del leaned against Aaron’s folded legs, each breath a gasp, sweat slicking his body, making his skin gleam like some rare exotic wood. Aaron touched Del’s cheek, kissed him. “I love you, Aaron,” Del sighed as he eased Aaron’s legs to the bed and lie beside him. They were both hot, sweaty, and Aaron noticed how good Del smelled. Noticed too the way their bodies fit together the way their minds did, as if they were truly two parts of

the one thing. For a moment they lay there, resting, then Del rolled out of bed. Aaron sat up. “Why did you get out of bed?” “Give me a second and I’ll tell you.” Del got to one knee, and his hand rummaged under a pillow for something. Aaron had no idea what his lover was doing. He could feel nervousness and excitement coming from Del, but he couldn’t read the man’s thoughts at all, which was a puzzle. Worse, all he could think of was how much he wanted to have the big cock dangling between Del’s legs inside him once more. “What are you doing?” “Give me a second, okay?” Del asked, adding to the enigma. His fisted hand came out from under the pillows and Aaron frowned. He could see something small and red in Del’s hand, but he didn’t know what it could be. “Okay, I know this probably isn’t the best time, but,” Del’s hand opened to reveal a small red velvet covered box. “It’s the best I could get where we were.” Aaron thought his heart had stopped from shock. His head felt light as Del opened the box to reveal an understated gold ring—a man’s band—set with tiny glittering diamonds. He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. The room spun around him. “Take it easy, Aaron. Breathe, okay?” Aaron nodded, the emotion filling him with a tsunami of joy that threatened to overwhelm him. He’d never thought he’d find someone to love him. Never dreamed of being married, being part of a family with anyone, and here was Del, his hero, his lover, offering him exactly that: a life with someone to love him. “I…” He couldn’t talk, so he leaned closer to Del and kissed him. Kissed him as if Del were breath, blood and life. His arms went around Del’s neck and he slid from the bed to press himself as close to Del as he could. Tears blurred his eyes and he closed them, let the tears spill down his cheeks. They didn’t need words. They had something far more real than words. They had the bond between them and one another’s love. Del finally eased away from Aaron’s kiss. Green hazel eyes gazed into his eyes. “I take it this is a yes, then?” his lover asked. Aaron nodded and held his hand out to Del, who took the ring from the box and slipped it on his finger. “It’s not fair. I didn’t have a chance to get you a ring.” “We can pick out wedding bands when we get to Londonton.” Del kissed his tear damp cheeks, wiping them away with his gentle kissing. Aaron hugged Del. “I love you, but we’re splitting the cost of the wedding bands. I’ll buy yours, you can buy mine. And I’m going to find you an engagement ring, so we’re even.” “Okay,” Del agreed as he ran his fingers through Aaron’s hair. “But why propose to me now? You could have done it when we reached New London.” “I didn’t want to take any chances I’d lose you.” “Lose me? To whom? Men aren’t exactly lining up to date me.” Del grinned. “Not on Moon Three they weren’t, but you’ll be working at a university with highly intelligent people with no bias against psi-talents. No way am I taking that kind of risk,” Del replied. Aaron laughed. “Don’t be silly, we’ve got a telempathic bond. I won’t leave you.” Aaron kissed Del on the cheek. “Besides, how can a professor compete against a living action hero like you?”

Del shook his head. “So that’s why you love me?” Aaron nodded. “That’s one reason.” “What’s the other?” “This,” he replied and gripped Del’s cock. “Oh well, it’s better than nothing.” Aaron was lifted into bed, Del holding him there, kissing him. “Do you have something in mind?” “I asked you to marry me, didn’t I?” Del asked, grinning. “But if you’ve had enough of me already, I can go find some other hot guy to fill my bed. Though where I’ll find another telempath I’ve got no clue.” Aaron returned Del’s grin. Ignoring his lover’s teasing he said, “I won’t ever get enough of you, Del. You know it’s not many men who can say they’ve got a five-alarm lover.” “Five-alarm lover? That’s a good one.” Del’s laughter filled Aaron’s soul with the warm glow of love. Love they would share for the rest of their lives. The End About the Author: Michael Barnette began his writing career as a poet and moved up to writing erotic fiction in 1997. A six time nominee for the Gaylactic Spectrum Award, Michael has also been a finalist for the Lambda Literary award. Once a resident of Coconut Grove and South Beach in Florida, Michael relocated to Georgia where there were fewer gunshots and yard to yard searches for suspects to disturb the writing muses. He has since moved on and now lives in a modest sized town in Colorado where he has a spectacular view of the mountains. To find out more about Michael's works visit these sites on the internet. Links: http://www.michaelbarnette.com http://m-barnette.livejournal.com/ http://groups.yahoo.com/group/immortal_heroes http://twitter.com/m_barnette

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