Tartan Candy E-Book

KC Burn

• Herausgeber: Dreamspinner Press
• Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
• Sprache: Englisch

Seitenzahl: 371

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2016

Beschreibung

A Fabric Hearts Story Finlay McIntyre (aka Raven) is a successful adult film star with a penchant for kilts, until an accident cuts short his stardom and leaves him with zero sexual desire, lowered self-esteem, and no job. He knew his porn career wouldn't last forever, but he wasn't prepared for retirement at twenty-eight. While trying to figure out the rest of his life, Raven agrees to attend a high school reunion. That's when a malfunctioning AC unit in his hotel room changes everything. Caleb Sanderson, an entrepreneur with his own HVAC business, has no idea what to expect when he steps into Raven's hotel room to fix his AC unit. They're attracted to each other, but Caleb, closeted, can't afford a gay relationship, not with his mom pressuring him to produce grandchildren. If he wants to keep Raven—who no closet could hold—he'll need to tell his family the truth. But Raven has a few secrets of his own. He refuses to reveal his porn past to Caleb, a past that might be the final obstacle to Caleb and Raven having any kind of relationship.

Leseprobe

Tartan Candy

By KC Burn

Finlay McIntyre (aka Raven) is a successful adult film star with a penchant for kilts, until an accident cuts short his stardom and leaves him with zero sexual desire, lowered self-esteem, and no job. He knew his porn career wouldn’t last forever, but he wasn’t prepared for retirement at twenty-eight. While trying to figure out the rest of his life, Raven agrees to attend a high school reunion. That’s when a malfunctioning AC unit in his hotel room changes everything.

Caleb Sanderson, an entrepreneur with his own HVAC business, has no idea what to expect when he steps into Raven’s hotel room to fix his AC unit. They’re attracted to each other, but Caleb, closeted, can’t afford a gay relationship, not with his mom pressuring him to produce grandchildren. If he wants to keep Raven—who no closet could hold—he’ll need to tell his family the truth. But Raven has a few secrets of his own. He refuses to reveal his porn past to Caleb, a past that might be the final obstacle to Caleb and Raven having any kind of relationship.

To those who love unconditionally.

Acknowledgments

Several years ago, I was at the RWA national conference in Orlando. Not many men attend the conference, to the point we usually take over the men’s restrooms located near the conference rooms. However, on this particular year, it seemed as though most of the (few) men who attended were wearing kilts. I didn’t know Damon Suede back then, but I’m almost certain he wasn’t one of them. My friend Chudney and I had a little discussion about those kilts, and this idea has been germinating ever since. Chudney, here it is! Took me a while!

In addition to thanking my usual crew for being there for me and performing on-demand edits—Alex, Dottie, and Chudney—I also have to thank Dolorianne for helping me brainstorm. Thanks go to my book club, ZA Maxfield, and Tara Lain for listening to me whine about this particular book, and to my awesome street team, who jump in when I throw out random questions to them!

Also, a special thanks to JP Barnaby, who gave me some additional information about porn stars when I asked. If I screwed anything up, it’s all on me!

Chapter ONE

“OOH, I just love a man in a kilt.”

Raven smiled at the newcomer, pretending he hadn’t heard the phrase a million times since he’d walked into the ballroom. Normally he didn’t mind being the center of attention, but tonight the overwhelming interest in him crawled over his skin like a swarm of fire ants.

No denying, he looked hot. His bright red plaid kilt matched the thick red streaks in his black hair perfectly. It was one of the reasons he’d bought the kilt in the first place, a few years ago. He had about a dozen kilts that matched various hair dyes, but he liked the classic red Royal Stewart. Unfortunately, all the sexy outer trappings weren’t enough to make him forget he wasn’t getting naked with anyone ever again.

Jeremy, Raven’s purported date, stepped closer to him. Close enough to almost slay Raven with his nearly lethal cloud of body spray.

“Jeremy, is that you?” The newcomer was not the first person who’d been surprised by the change in Jeremy since high school. Like every high school reunion Raven had seen on TV and in the movies, a giant poster board at the entrance to the ballroom displayed everyone’s yearbook photo. While Jeremy signed them in, Raven had taken the opportunity to inspect Jeremy’s image. Dude had had a shitload of good plastic surgery done. It was almost cliché: the geeky underdog who’d made it big coming back to his old stomping ground to revel in his new wealth and surgically enhanced appearance. Unfortunately, Jeremy hadn’t let the past go, and his personality bordered on rancid.

“Rebecca? It’s so lovely to see you again.”

Oddly, Rebecca appeared genuinely pleased to see Jeremy, and she coaxed the first happy smile Raven had seen on Jeremy’s face. If he didn’t know Jeremy was gay through and through, he’d have suspected Rebecca to be an old girlfriend or crush.

Rebecca gave Jeremy a hug. “I hear you’ve done well for yourself. You look fantastic.”

When Jeremy slipped an arm around Raven’s waist, he had to work at not flinching.

“This is Raven.”

“Nice to meet you, Raven.” Rebecca seemed nice, around the age his mother would have been, and was fond—perhaps overfond—of pink glitter. Maybe that was only natural, since Rebecca’s name tag proclaimed her head cheerleader. How she was even aware of Jeremy’s existence, Raven didn’t know.

“Raven’s my date. Gorgeous, isn’t he?”

Almost buckling under the strain, Raven managed to keep a pleasant smile on his face while Rebecca chatted, even though Jeremy was treating him like a slab of meat. It wasn’t the first time a guy had done that, and it wouldn’t be the last, but Raven badly wanted to correct the “date” misnomer. For a hefty sum, Jeremy had purchased Raven’s companionship—minus any sex—for the duration of his high school reunion weekend retreat. Raven wasn’t in the business of offering the “boyfriend experience.” Even if he had ever been planning to have sex again, there wasn’t enough money in the world to get him to sleep with Jeremy.

Jeremy’s grand plan had backfired in an unexpected way: he’d thought people would be impressed he showed up with an attractive younger man. He hadn’t anticipated Raven would garner more favorable attention than the changes in Jeremy’s appearance. Hence, his treatment of Raven as if he were an expensive possession.

Raven extricated himself from Jeremy’s clinging embrace and tipped the last of the beer in his bottle into his mouth.

Rebecca smiled brightly—or perhaps drunkenly, it was too early to tell—at them both. “He certainly is. I’m glad you found someone great, Jeremy.”

Sputtering, Raven managed to swallow his mouthful without choking to death or embarrassing anyone.

“Are you okay, honey?” Rebecca’s smile faded into concern.

“I’m good, thanks. Just swallowed wrong.”

Jeremy snorted, and Raven barely refrained from slugging him. Jeremy’s mind was in the gutter—again.

Rebecca patted him on the back and turned her attention back to Jeremy. “We’re seated at the same table for dinner.”

“Lead the way, Rebecca. I’m starving, although if this place is like most conference hotels, we’ll still be starving after our plate of rubbery chicken.”

Raven cringed, but Rebecca just giggled.

“Hey, baby.” Rebecca kissed the temple of an imposing man who was already seated at one of the round tables set for ten.

“I got you a glass of Chardonnay.” Big and beefy was pretty hot, even with the severely receding hairline. Raven peered at his name tag. Yet another cliché come to life. Bret was the quarterback of the team. Would Raven’s own high school reunion be so predictable? Not that he’d ever consider attending, outside of his nightmares.

“Bret, honey, you remember Jeremy, right?”

“Nope,” Bret grunted, and Jeremy looked like he’d swallowed a bug. Dealing with Jeremy’s ruffled ego for the whole weekend, and trying to calm him without encouraging any advances, was going to make this “date” last for-fucking-ever. Raven wasn’t quite at the point of counting down the hours, but he wasn’t far off.

“One too many hits to the head, eh, Bret? I guess what they say about multiple concussions is true.” Jeremy’s tone was jovial, but Bret’s face flushed a dark red.

Rebecca patted her husband’s arm. “He’s the one who tutored me in calculus.”

Oh. Now the Rebecca-Jeremy relationship made sense.

“Right. Him.” With those two words, Bret instantly dismissed Jeremy as a threat, and as a person. If this was how everyone had treated Jeremy in school, then maybe Raven had a smidgeon of sympathy. A nanosized morsel of sympathy. High school could be sucky.

They were saved from too much discussion as the rest of the guests at their table seated themselves and made introductions. Another football player and his wife, a drama club member and her husband, and a couple who were now teachers at the same school from which they’d graduated made up the ten at their table. Most of them, like Jeremy, had moved away from Orlando after graduation and hadn’t seen each other since. Dinner began, and throughout the meal there were a number of awards, announcements, and commemorative videos, so it wasn’t until the meal had been cleared away in preparation for dessert that any real conversation sprang up.

Rebecca’s cheeks had pinkened from the effects of three glasses of wine, and she smiled blearily at him. “Raven, what do you do for a living?”

“He’s in school right now,” Jeremy jumped in before Raven could answer. There were worse things he could have said, but he made it sound like Raven was still in high school.

“Uh, yes. I’m almost finished my business degree.” One last semester in the fall, and he’d be done.

“And how did you two meet?”

With a leer, Jeremy slung an arm over Raven’s shoulders. “Raven here likes to be taken care of. And I was just the man for the job.”

Horrified, Raven felt his jaw drop as heat flashed into his cheeks and an awkward silence fell over the table. With that one statement, everyone at this table either thought Raven was a gold digger or guilty of atrocious taste in men. Or both. He shouldn’t care what these people thought, and he rarely told people how he made a living, but he was proud of what he’d accomplished all on his own.

Raven smiled weakly at the other diners and extricated himself from his seat. “I’m going to go have a smoke.”

Amanda, the drama club member, spoke up. “I love your kilt. Is your family Scottish?”

“Nope. But it sure is easy access,” Jeremy answered for him and slid his hand under Raven’s kilt to grab his ass.

Raven barely held in a yelp of surprise and glared down at Jeremy.

“What?” Jeremy’s eyes widened in overly theatrical surprise. “I had to check to see if you were wearing your kilt properly.”

Raven glanced around the table. Forget awkward silence; Jeremy had just made almost everyone uncomfortable. Amanda looked as mortified as Raven felt.

“Don’t be long, you’ll miss dessert.” Rebecca giggled drunkenly, too soused to notice the undercurrents of tension.

“Eh, skipping dessert will help him keep his weight down.”

Amanda gasped at Jeremy’s cruel words, and Raven’s nostrils flared as he considered if decking Jeremy was worth it. Jeremy seemed completely oblivious to the censure.

When he was able to unclench his jaw, he spoke again. “Feel free to eat my dessert. I’ll be back soon.”

He detoured by the bar to grab a beer before leaving the ballroom. He wasn’t the only one ready for a refill, and there was a line, dammit.

Raven should never have agreed to this stupid job, but it had been good money. Despite the large number of women wanting to touch his chest or just plain ogle him, it would have been bearable if it weren’t for pompous, self-important, and passive-aggressive Jeremy.

The touching was a bit much. Overwhelming in a way it wouldn’t have been a year ago.

There had been a lot of touching—by everyone, not just Jeremy. For an ex–porn star, casual touching shouldn’t be such a problem, but it had been over a year since Raven starred in his last movie. Over a year since he’d had sex. Aside from doctors, nurses, and physiotherapists after his accident, he’d not been touched by anyone in all that time.

He had no family, no boyfriend, just his friends from the studio, but Raven had pulled away from everyone after the accident, and he saw them only rarely. Raven’s colorful appearance had invited a lot of casual touching from people he’d been introduced to at the reunion, which hadn’t much thrilled Jeremy either. Perhaps that was why he slapped a virtual brand on Raven’s ear the moment anyone demonstrated the least bit of interest.

Jeremy had also done about half a dozen underwear checks so far this evening. Bastard. Raven clenched his hands into fists, struggling to keep a neutral look on his face. Happy was too much to ask of him, but Jeremy was footing the bill for more than a couple months’ mortgage, and Raven couldn’t tell him to fuck off. He couldn’t ditch him, either.

Finally, finally, he got his beer and headed out of the ballroom.

His smile came easier and felt less like a mask the farther he got from Jeremy, and he moved with enough purpose that no one stopped him.

Motion-sensitive doors to the back garden whooshed open. Muggy, humid air slapped Raven in the face as he stepped out into the hot Florida evening. Almost immediately, sweat sprang up on his skin. At least his tight-fitted dress shirt was black; no sweat stains would show.

His haven was close. He took a tiny path, ducking the overhanging greenery. The resort treated smokers like lepers, hiding them well out of sight. Not that Raven was a big fan of smoking—it stank up his hair, and he’d seen what it could do to someone’s stamina—but it was a fantastic escape, especially from a handsy client with asthma.

He’d learned a long time ago that pretending to be a smoker gave him an out, a viable, believable reason to hide out that he’d used on more than one occasion. Leaning against a lamppost, he pulled out a battered pack of smokes and a lighter from his sporran and lit a cigarette without inhaling.

Raven held the cigarette down by his hip, tilted his head away from the smoke curling upward, and enjoyed the silence.

RAVEN HAD only managed to tuck his lighter away before another man strode into the smokers’ isolation ward and skidded to a stop upon noticing Raven. Probably expected to have the grotto all to himself.

“Nice kilt.” The stranger appeared about the same age as the rest of Jeremy’s classmates, but wore his dress shirt and slacks with an air of confidence Jeremy could only dream about.

Raven cleared his throat. “Thanks. You here with the reunion?”

“Yes. Go Panthers!” The stranger held his hand up in a fist as he repeated a phrase Raven had heard all too frequently since Jeremy had squired him into the ballroom.

Smiling ruefully, the stranger lowered his fist. “Sadly, it’s been twenty-five years since high school. Are you enjoying yourself with us oldsters?”

Cocking his head to the side, Raven considered how prudent it would be to tell this guy how little he was enjoying this event. Not because they were older—he didn’t care about that. But for all Raven knew, this dude was Jeremy’s long-lost BFF or his business partner or something.

The stranger chuckled. “Don’t worry. It’s okay if you hate it.”

Raven laughed. “Oh, good. Because, yeah, I kinda do.”

The stranger held out his hand. “I’m Mick. Mick Munro.”

Raven reached out, realized he still held a burning cigarette, and quickly switched it over to his left hand before leaning forward to shake Mick’s hand.

“I’m Raven.”

“Nice to meet you, Raven.”

Raven leaned back under the lamp. Mick tilted his head to the side.

“Have we met somewhere before?”

Oh fuck. This was a conversation he didn’t want to have. Not today.

“No, I don’t think so.” Maybe Mick would let it go at that.

“You look familiar. I saw you earlier with Jeremy and thought the same thing.” Then Mick’s eyes widened. “Raven. Of course. You’re an Idyll Fling model.”

Damn. They were going to have this conversation.

Fortunately there was no sudden leer or anything, because Raven wasn’t ready to fend off another advance, even if his new buddy was about a hundred times more attractive than Jeremy.

“Yes. Well, I was.”

Mick tugged at an earlobe, looking oddly shy. “Yeah, you were great. My husband and I really enjoyed your videos.”

A quick glance at Mick’s hands revealed a silver band that could be a wedding ring. Would have been nice to meet Mick earlier.

“Thanks.”

“What, uh, I mean, is there a reason you stopped? The site was a little vague about it.”

Raven shrugged. The studio hadn’t wanted to be definitive about him never modeling again, optimistically believing he’d be back. Nor had Raven wanted to deal with hordes of messages about any sweeping announcement regarding his “retirement.” Of course, he hadn’t expected to work in porn forever, but neither had he expected his career in it to be cut short so abruptly.

“Car accident. It was pretty bad, and there were some complications.” No need to get into the grisly details with a new acquaintance.

“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that.” Mick glanced at his slowly burning cigarette. “Are you planning to actually smoke that?”

Raven rolled his eyes. “Nope. It’s an excuse to hide out.”

Mick laughed. “That’s why I’m here. I’m not a smoker, either, but I was starting to feel a little hemmed in. So tell me, how does a nice gay boy like you end up with an asshole like Jeremy?”

A nice gay boy. He could kiss Mick for that. So often, people defined him by his porn, and the definition rarely included the word “nice.” Shoulders relaxing at the lack of judgment, Raven took a moment to enjoy an unusual rapport with a man he wasn’t planning to have sex with. It was… delightful.

“I’m here in a professional capacity. Escort-like, but no boyfriend experience.”

“So, you’re an escort now?”

It wasn’t a ridiculous question. Some porn actors made a great living doing both, their movies an excellent promotional tool for their escort services. Some actors had vanilla jobs in addition to doing the movies, and others were putting themselves through college, like he’d done. Some did it because they liked sex, and others did it because they felt they had to, in some way or another. Raven had liked both the sex and the exhibitionism of it all. He liked being popular. But that had all changed at the hands of a drunk driver.

“No, not an escort. Just a multiday companion-slash-date. The money’s good, but I’m not interested in the escort type of one-on-one interaction.”

Interaction. How very sanitized. Of course, he was never having sex again, so escort was right out as a career choice. His business degree was practically in hand, but he couldn’t wrap his mind around any specific career related to that. Most of the fields were too staid and stuffy for him. He’d been in a vicious sort of limbo since the accident and hadn’t figured a way out yet.

“Ah, I should have known. Jeremy’s such an ass, there’s no way he could have gotten someone as hot as you.”

Amazingly, Raven’s cheeks heated. He’d gotten over blushing by his second day on set, but the sincere compliment got to him. Not that there was much use in his looks anymore.

“Thanks.” He certainly wasn’t going to contradict Mick’s statement. Jeremy was an ass. “Mind you, I’m not sure I’d do this again. It’s not what I expected.” Which was a total understatement

“What are you going to do with yourself, then? You’re still young.”

Raven tilted his head. “What are you, a guidance counselor?”

Mick laughed. “Close. I’m a human resources manager.”

“Honestly, I don’t know what I’m going to do. I’m finishing up an undergrad business degree, but those are as common as dirt, and I don’t think I could go work in some office. Worry about an HR manager.” Raven directed a wink at Mick, who didn’t appear to take any offense.

“There’s no denying you’re perhaps a bit colorful for a traditional business, but it shouldn’t prevent you from getting a job if that’s what you want. More important, though, is whether it’s something you want to do. Nothing stopping you from coming up with a business of your own. Something that would make you happy.”

Raven flicked his cigarette and watched the ash flutter to the ground. He’d thought there’d be so much time to make that kind of decision. He thought he’d be making movies long enough to build a decent nest egg, take his time to consider what he wanted to do, maybe even go to grad school. Hell, maybe even take over Idyll Fling. But even if he had the cash, there was no way the current owner, Stefan, would be ready to retire or sell out this soon. He’d tried directing Idyll Fling movies, but that hadn’t been enjoyable mostly because they reminded him too much of what he’d lost and what he’d never have again.

What the fuck was he going to do with himself? Already the twin devils of boredom and loneliness were making his life hell, especially now that the residual pain had mostly faded.

Despite the unwelcome reminder that he was unemployed after this weekend and had zero job prospects, Raven relaxed even further. It had been a long time since he’d had just a normal conversation with a guy that wasn’t going to lead to sex and didn’t appear to involve any judgment about his life. It was one of the reasons he didn’t interact with too many people outside the business.

They stood in comfortable silence, listening to the katydids in the humid evening, smoke from Raven’s lit cigarette curling up toward the yellowish lamplight.

Then came that inevitable moment. The cigarette had burned down. It was time.

“I guess I should be getting back. I’m still on the clock.” Raven grinned ruefully at his new acquaintance. “I’ll see you around.”

Mick nodded. “I’ll bring my hubby over to introduce you. He’ll want an autograph.”

Raven smiled. “Sure thing. Be glad to meet him.” If Mick had needed an eye-candy date, Raven would have done that for free.

The night became slightly more oppressive as Raven forced his feet back toward the ballroom.

Chapter TWO

NUMBER 305. The best number in the entire world right now, since it meant the first day with Jeremy was done. Raven dug in his sporran for his room key, ready to open the door and kiss the generic beige carpet.

Thankfully, the opening event ended at a reasonable hour, because the next day had such an early start for everyone. Raven was only obligated to attend the scheduled events that Jeremy wanted to attend; for any extra socializing, Jeremy was on his own. Saturday’s scheduled events included excursions to either the beach or the theme parks—Jeremy had chosen the beach—and later that evening, a “high school revival” dance. Saturday was going to be a crap day, what with the long drive to the beach, then several hours of “beach activities,” whatever that meant. There was a chunk of time between the beach and the dance listed in the program as free time and dinner on their own, and Raven was already counting down the hours. There wasn’t a damn thing Jeremy could do or say to convince Raven to accompany him to dinner. Raven was going to spend every unscheduled minute luxuriating in his room, and he was so fucking glad he’d insisted on having his own room. Having to drive back to his condo each night would be pure fucking hell.

With a big smile, he pushed open the door and let it swing shut behind him while he fumbled for the light switch. Then he blinked, and his smile fell away. Sweat popped up on his skin. The extreme heat in his refuge wasn’t a carryover from the third beer or from the unpleasant company but because his thermostat was set on the seldom-used hellfire setting.

He strode over to the beat-up old air-conditioning unit. Which still had a dial. Was the entire hotel like this or was he just lucky? Studying the unit, he didn’t see any reason why it shouldn’t be working. All the settings were correct, and yet it was blowing hot air against his legs. A swift thump with his fist didn’t help, either. Fuck.

The hotel better be able to fix this or give him a new room.

An hour later, Raven stepped out of the bathroom, a towel wrapped around his waist. He used another towel to rub at his hair, before tossing it over the back of a chair. His hair was wet enough that water trickled down his bare chest, but he ignored the sensation. After all, his room was still as hot as the surface of the sun. No way was he starting up a hair dryer now.

Although he wasn’t too keen on letting in mosquitos or palmetto bugs, the muggy night had to be cooler than this. Closer inspection of the window revealed he’d need tools of some kind to open the damned thing.

The cool shower had helped, but if the hotel didn’t send someone to fix this soon, he was going to have to have another one, in the midst of a fucking mental meltdown.

A loud knock had Raven running for the door, but he stopped himself from just flinging it open, in case it was Jeremy on the other side and not the eagerly awaited A/C repair guy.

“Yes?” He wasn’t about to trust the funhouse lens of the peephole.

“You called about a faulty A/C unit?”

Oh. Raven shivered slightly. No way did that low, rumbly voice belong to Jeremy. Of course, there was no way the repairman could possibly live up to a voice that sexy. He could make a fucking fortune as a voice-over actor, though.

“Hello?”

Raven shook himself. “Sorry, yes, I did.” After quickly unlocking the door, Raven opened it.

He didn’t know how long he stood there, in shock, before he moved out of the way, but it couldn’t have been as long as it felt.

The repairman was every bit as sexy as the voice promised. Clean cut, dark brown hair, warm cognac eyes, a slight hint of freckles across caramel skin. He was a little older than Raven, a little shorter than Raven, and built like a construction worker. A calendar-worthy construction worker.

“Hi there. I’m Caleb Sanderson, and yes, you do have a problem with your unit.” Caleb, who didn’t emphasize the word “unit” to add any innuendo, flashed him a white smile that revealed his parents could afford orthodontia.

“Uh, hi. Please say you can fix the—” With some effort, he managed to avoid saying “unit.” “Please fix it.”

Caleb nodded and walked over to the unit… fuck…. Raven wasn’t able to avoid adding an innuendo-laden emphasis on the word even in his own mind.

When Caleb crouched down, faded denim stretched across an ass so fine Raven had to bite back a whimper. Blood rushed to his groin, and he grabbed the towel from the chair to hide his burgeoning erection. Where was his fucking leather sporran when he needed it?

His pulse picked up and his stomach fluttered. He wasn’t sure if he was more turned on or freaked out, because he hadn’t been sexually aroused in the presence of another man since his accident.

Caleb glanced back at him and smiled, throwing Raven into a panic.

“Uh. Uh. I’ll be back in a minute.” Raven grabbed a pair of jeans from his suitcase and fled to the bathroom, slamming the door behind him like Caleb was chasing him.

This time, the adrenaline rush had a different source than his escape from Jeremy. God. He whipped off the towel and yanked on his jeans with zero grace. His foot got caught and he stumbled, but he caught himself before he knocked his head against the counter.

Raven took a deep, shuddery breath before pulling his jeans all the way up, tucking away his still-plumped, unruly bastard of a dick. As usual, he took care not to focus on the thick, shiny scars scattered across his hips and groin, scars that were still red and angry looking even after a year.

He ran his hands through his damp hair, hoping to tame it a bit, and exited. The difference was already palpable. A chilly breeze skated over his damp skin, and his nipples stood at attention. Why hadn’t he grabbed a T-shirt as well?

“Your unit is all fixed up.” Caleb brushed his hands off on his thighs, drawing Raven’s gaze involuntarily to his fly, but Raven forced it away again, embarrassed and flustered in a way he shouldn’t be, no matter how sexy he found a man. Or maybe that was the problem. Accepting his eternity of sexlessness had been a lot easier when he didn’t have a visceral reaction to anyone. Fuck. He didn’t even know if Caleb was gay.

“Uh, thank you. That was quick.”

“I’m just that good,” Caleb said, again with words that could so easily be a double entendre, but Caleb’s delivery was completely innocent. Or straight. Caleb nodded and headed toward the door, leaving a faint whiff of soap and sweat in his wake.

In another moment, the door banged shut behind Caleb, and Raven slumped down on the bed.

For the first time in his life, he’d been smack in the middle of a standard porn plot, similar to ones he’d acted in several times, and instead of coming on to Caleb, he’d behaved like a nervous virgin with no social skills. Hell, he’d been more pathetic than he’d been back when he was a nervous virgin, for fuck’s sake. As much as he thought maybe it was for the best, he couldn’t convince his cock that letting Caleb go without even trying to exchange phone numbers was a good idea. He wanted Caleb back, badly. Wanted to find out how he tasted. Wanted to know the sounds he made when he got his cock sucked.

The irony of the situation was not lost on him.

CALEB SANDERSON slumped against the wall, heart pounding. By some stroke of luck, he kept a firm grip on his toolbox, because the last thing he needed was for the occupant of room 305 to come out, wondering what the commotion was.

Holy shit, that never happened. Not to him.

Since his company had a contract for a number of resorts and businesses in the area, he’d been to the hotel more than once. After all, the A/C units were quite elderly, and Caleb suspected the resort was planning to replace them all soon. Until then, though, Caleb was a regular fixture.

He’d been in a number of hotel rooms, most of them empty. When they weren’t, though, he’d seen several things he couldn’t unsee. Sometimes, it was hard to believe anyone would be okay letting complete strangers see them naked, live and in person. He’d even had a few women try to hit on him. But never, not once, had he wanted to stay longer than it took to get the job done. Caleb took one look at 305 and a billion questions leaped to the tip of his tongue. Dark hair with red streaks, along with wide blue eyes and creamy skin made the man look like an anime character.

But the rest of him induced an overwhelming desire to forgo talking because he wanted to use his tongue for more carnal ventures. He’d start at the guy’s prominent collarbone, then head down between the shadows of a six-pack to the hint of a black treasure trail. Desire had swept over Caleb so fast it left him light-headed and buzzed. The fates had been laughing when they saw fit to have him answer the call of a man so stunning he had to be a model. Or maybe an up-and-coming actor.

So many desires and ideas crowded Caleb’s mind it was a wonder he’d been able to speak at all. Amazingly, he hadn’t sounded like a complete dork; he’d even managed confident. Even more amazingly, he hadn’t said anything inappropriate, no matter how much he’d wanted to. After all, Caleb was nothing but the epitome of control, despite 305 stretching that self-control to the limit. But he’d reined in his baser impulses. Last thing he needed was a sexual harassment complaint from one of the hotel patrons. Not only could that fuck up the comfortable, steady work the resort provided, it could get him in serious trouble.

The effort to keep his desire bottled up and interact as a normal human being instead of a slavering beast in the grips of a monstrous lust left Caleb sweating and panting as if he’d run a whole marathon in the past few minutes. With an erection to rival any other. Thank the saints for new jeans and boxer briefs that fit properly.

His cheeks heated and he glanced down at his standard “uniform” of jeans and polo shirt. The outfit didn’t exactly make him look like a stud. With a rueful chuckle, he adjusted his burgeoning erection. Even if 305 was gay, there was no way he’d go for some blue-collar grunt. Especially one who was clearly older. Caleb was only thirty-two, but if 305 was a day over twenty-one, Caleb would shit rainbows. Caleb did all right for himself, got laid regularly, if not as often as he’d like. A guy that hot wouldn’t have the time of day for Caleb, but he sure as shit would be starring in Caleb’s fantasies during his evening shower, and likely for the next several days. 305, hot water, shower gel, and Caleb’s right hand might be the best date he’d had in while.

An obnoxious buzz sounded from his pocket, and he grabbed his phone and silenced it, heart rate picking up slightly as he waited, holding his breath, not sure if he wanted 305 to open the door or not.

Then he shook himself. If he was in a hotel room and heard someone’s phone in the hall, he sure as shit wouldn’t bother opening the door. Stupid.

Besides, if 305 did open the door, how would Caleb explain loitering outside? He headed toward the elevator as silently as possible, even as he acknowledged he was being ridiculous.

As the elevator doors opened, he checked the text that had startled him. Instead of hitting Lobby, he pressed twelve. Another A/C issue. Date night with his hand would have to wait a little longer, but at least this issue had been reported before he’d left the building. Being on call on the weekend sucked, especially during heat waves, but it was his turn, and it wasn’t as though he had a boyfriend or even a prospective boyfriend to spend the weekend with.

With a sigh of relief, an older man opened the door of 1218, his wife seated on the couch, watching television. This should be quick and painless. And if he spent the whole time wondering where 305 called home, and whether he had a boyfriend to go home to after his vacation, well, no one else had to know.

Chapter THREE

CALEB PULLED his truck up by the service entrance for the resort and parked. “Thanks for helping out today. I know Saturday mornings aren’t your thing.”

Jaime Escobar, his cousin and best friend, glanced at him blearily over his gallon of latte. “No worries. I can sleep when I’m dead.”

“I’m really sorry.” Caleb wouldn’t feel bad if Jaime was simply hungover, but he was an EMT and he’d been working the overnight shift; Caleb’s call this morning had caught him just as he was getting home. Which he hadn’t let Caleb know until he’d swung by to pick him up. “I’d forgotten you were working nights this week.”

He grimaced. Considering how long his dry spell had been, there’d been a tiny malicious angel on his shoulder that wanted to interrupt Jaime’s morning cuddle with whatever twink had warmed his bed the previous night. Caleb had certainly had a couple of good orgasms courtesy of the memory of 305, but he was still jealous of Jaime’s constant revolving door of bed partners. Well, maybe not jealous, exactly, but Jaime never seemed to lack for companionship, while Caleb had trouble finding someone he’d hear from—or want to hear from—after the deed was done. Instead, he’d interrupted Jaime as he was getting ready for bed after a week of dealing with heat-stroke victims and the aftermath of violence resulting from tempers frayed in the extreme heat.

Jaime laughed and took a huge mouthful of coffee, Caleb’s first installment on this favor. “Hey, I get that a full hotel is going to spend top dollar for weekend calls. And this favor means you’re my bitch the next time I want it.”

Caleb rolled his eyes. Knowing Jaime, that could mean just about anything, but karmic justice was kicking his ass in a very immediate manner. Jealousy wasn’t a pretty emotion and certainly wasn’t very Christian. Caleb wasn’t very Christian either, at least not as much as his family would like, but he did try to live according to the more altruistic and caring tenets of the faith.

“Yeah, yeah, I got it.”

Opening the doors let the oppressive heat and humidity into the truck, and Caleb barely suppressed a groan. He’d been born and raised in Florida, and his livelihood depended on those desperate to escape the worst of Florida’s climate, but shit, he really hated this type of weather. He knew a number of people flocked to the state during the snowy winter weather, hence the term “snow birds,” but was there an opposite? Summer birds who were Florida and Georgia natives making their way north during the summer? That would be a dream, although he’d heard the northern states could be just as sweltering. Maybe Alaska?

Then again, he didn’t think he could leave his family for months at a time to live in Alaska. Especially since his business ran him ragged in the summer. Giving up that income would mean he’d have to hitchhike to Alaska.

They rounded the truck, and Jaime curled his lip as he looked at the new A/C unit.

“Why do they always have to weigh so much?”

Caleb ignored the rhetorical question and pulled out the furniture dolly. At least they only had to maneuver the unit onto that, and not carry the damn thing all the way up to the twelfth floor.

Wrestling the unit onto the dolly only took a few minutes, but it was enough that by the time they wheeled it into the hotel, they were both disheveled, flushed, and coated in sweat. The blast of cool air in the hotel made Caleb shiver, but it was a welcome, delicious shiver.

As they made their slow, clunky way around the obstructions of cleaning and room service carts in the back halls of the hotel that no guest ever saw, they approached a set of double doors leading into one of the banquet rooms. The doors enabled servers to bring food into the banquet rooms by a more direct route from the kitchen, but they were normally not propped open.

Caleb’s unruly curiosity—piqued by the previous night’s encounter with 305—had him slowing down and looking into the large ballroom. A quick scan of the room provided a hoped for, yet completely unexpected, reward.

By the buffet table a crimson long-sleeved T-shirt caught his eye. Caleb’s mouth dried out as he took in the rest of 305’s appearance. The shirt perfectly accentuated the bright red streaks in his hair, which matched the tight black jeans. However, he didn’t look particularly happy as he stood by the buffet, picking at whatever was on his plate. An attractive woman approached him, although she appeared to be even older than Caleb. 305 smiled at her, and Caleb’s unwelcome jealousy reared its ugly head yet again. If 305 had smiled at him last night, he might have never left. Or come on the spot. Or maybe just expired from the beauty of it.

This time, the flush heating Caleb’s cheeks came from an entirely different source, and this type of heat was far more welcome than hundred-plus-degree weather.

“Caleb! What the hell? Can we get the fuck on with this?”

Jaime’s irritated tone snapped Caleb’s attention away from the beautiful man in the ballroom.

“Sorry, sorry. Let’s go.”

Jaime narrowed his bloodshot eyes and peered suspiciously at Caleb. “Yes, let’s get this over with. I’m too damned tired to enjoy playing handyman.”

The last thing Caleb wanted was for Jaime to catch sight of 305, because he wanted to keep that little dream all to himself and not worry about his cousin snagging a date or a hookup.

It wasn’t until they were back in the truck, Jaime snatching up his latte like it was a long-lost treasure, that Caleb realized he hadn’t played off his attraction to 305 as casually as he’d hoped.

“So what… or should I say who… got you so flustered in there? It’s not like they were having a strip show or anything.”

Despite the increasingly chilly breeze blowing from the dashboard’s vents, more blood rushed to Caleb’s cheeks. Thankfully, his skin didn’t show a blush very well, although he’d bet 305’s pale skin would pinken beautifully.

With a mental slap, Caleb wrenched his thoughts away from the man with the red-streaked hair. He was never going to be able to bluff his way out of this one if he couldn’t control his thoughts for five minutes.

“Nothing.”

Jaime stared at him. Not surprisingly, because Caleb’s answer was completely laughable.

“Uh-huh. Sure thing. I’m the one who’s been up all night, and I can still tell you’re lying. Which you suck at, by the way.”

“I do not!” Except for Jaime, no one else in the family knew he was gay, so really, he was quite an exceptional liar. Which came with its own boatload of guilt, but that was a problem for another time.

Jaime slurped at his coffee. “Bullshit. But I’m too tired to argue. Take me home. I’m sleeping for at least twenty hours, and then I’ll be ready whenever you want to pick me up.”

“Pick you up?”

Another piercing gaze over the coffee lid came his way. “Family dinner tomorrow, remember? Juliet’s first birthday? I feel like I’ve slipped down the rabbit hole. Remember, I’m the one who hasn’t slept, but you’re the one who’s spacing the fuck out.”

Caleb jammed on his brakes as the light turned red. What the hell was he doing? How was he letting some chance encounter, not even significant enough to call it “ships passing in the night,” screw with his brain like this? It was like he’d never seen a hot, half-naked man before.

“Just the heat getting to me.” Caleb had completely forgotten about the family dinner, and he was not at all in the mood. Watching his every word, sublimating any hint of flamboyance, effectively neutering himself in front of his family was an exhausting, stressful endeavor. When he was already out of sorts, overheated, and distracted? Unable to go five minutes without bringing the image of 305’s delectable form to mind? Juliet’s birthday was going to be pure fucking hell.

“Sure. You go with that.” After one last gulp, Jaime set his cup in the cup holder and slouched in his seat, closing his eyes. Almost immediately a little snore slipped out. Jaime had spent a couple years as an Army medic and claimed he’d learned how to catnap there, but Caleb knew better. The guy had always been able to fall asleep quick, and often in the oddest places.

With a little sigh of relief, Caleb concentrated on driving. He didn’t know why he hadn’t just admitted why he’d been so scattered today. Jaime could at least talk him out of being an idiot. They might be cousins, but they’d been born within weeks of each other and looked enough alike to be brothers. They’d grown up together, and Jaime was his best friend. Having that one person who knew the real him was a much-needed relief valve, especially during family events.

Then again, best friend or not, Caleb wasn’t in a hurry to admit a pretty face and hot body had gotten to him. He’d never get out of Jaime trying to set him up if he did.