Out Of My Mind

by M. L. Rhodes

Amber Quill Press

www.amberquill.com

Copyright ©2007 by M. L. Rhodes

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Out Of My Mind

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CONTENTS

Also By M. L. Rhodes

CHAPTER 1

CHAPTER 2

CHAPTER 3

CHAPTER 4

CHAPTER 5

CHAPTER 6

CHAPTER 7

CHAPTER 8

CHAPTER 9

CHAPTER 10

M. L. Rhodes

Visit all three of Amber Quill's web sites

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Out Of My Mind

by M. L. Rhodes

OUT OF MY MIND

By

M. L. RHODES

* * * *

ISBN 978-1-60272-151-7

Amber Quill Press, LLC

www.amberquill.com

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Also By M. L. Rhodes

After Hours

Always

The Bodyguard

The Bounty Hunter

Couplings

Falling

Hearts & Bones

Heat

Lords of Kellesborne

Magic

Masks

Never Let Go

Night Shadows

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The Professor's Secret Passion

Souls Deep

Take It On Faith

True Of Heart

Well Hung

[Back to Table of Contents]

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CHAPTER 1

In the crisp, salty tang of the October New England Saturday morning, seagulls swooped and soared in the cerulean sky, dive-bombing for barnacles, mussels, and garbage that boaters inevitably left behind on the dock.

Amidst the cacophony of their raucous screeching, Rafferty Jones pretended interest in the helm controls of his old but lovingly refurbished thirty-foot fishing boat.

What truly held his gaze captive, though, was the sight of his partner on the Cavanaugh Bay police force climbing out of his Toyota 4Runner in the parking lot next to the dock.

In that heartbeat of a moment, Rafferty knew this had been a bad idea. Bad, bad, bad. He felt his control slipping already and wondered how he was going to make it through the weekend without giving anything away.

As he watched, Nick Tucker, looking every inch the "hot young hunk" the gals in dispatch had labeled him, walked around to the back of the vehicle and began unloading bags in the morning sunshine. The pale golden rays glinted off his sunglasses as he moved with his usual lean, athletic grace.

Even from this distance Rafferty could see how Nick's jeans hugged his runner's thighs, could see the stretch of his long-sleeved black T-shirt across his back and shoulders. And, as had so often been the case recently, every move he made, no matter how trivial, kept Rafferty riveted.

You already can't stop checking him out and he's not even on the boat yet. You're too old for this shit, Jones. Too old 7

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and, for God's sake, man ... too straight! What in the name of all that's holy has gotten into you lately?

It wasn't like he hadn't seen Nick doing these exact things half a dozen times prior to this morning. They'd made several trips on the boat during the summer ... sometimes for day trips, and a couple of times for the weekend. And long before Rafferty had gotten the boat seaworthy, he and Nick had worked together, played softball in the cop league, camped, drunk, worked out together. They'd been partners and friends for almost four years, through thick and thin. Nick had been the one who'd stayed by his side after the car accident fifteen months ago that had shattered the bones in Rafferty's left leg and put him through several surgeries and too many months on crutches to count. Nick had also been there for him when Rafferty had caught his wife Candace— ex-wife, he corrected himself—in bed with her lover and had filed for divorce.

But all that had been before.

Before...

A burning knot in Rafferty's chest warred with the troublesome and confusing ache in his groin.

He watched Nick reach above his head to pull down the back door of his 4Runner and slam it shut, then gather up the items he'd taken out of the vehicle and head toward the dock.

How was he going to act normal through two days and a night in close proximity on the boat? It had been hard enough at work recently, but there they were always busy, on the go, with other people around for the most part and plenty to keep Rafferty otherwise occupied. For the next two days they'd be alone.

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Oh, my God.

Nick must have seen Rafferty watching ... he smiled and nodded in greeting as walked toward the dock.

Rafferty's pulse raced at having been caught looking. He just hoped Nick didn't realize he'd been gawking at him like a schoolboy with a crush.

Damn it. How and when did everything get so complicated?

He wanted to blame everything on Candace ... after all, she was the one who'd first put the bug in his ear that maybe he liked spending time with Nick just a little too much.

But he really couldn't blame her. When she'd made that comment, she'd done it out of spite because the last couple of years of their marriage they'd drifted so far apart the truth was, he'd looked for any excuse to avoid her. Sometimes he'd used his job as his escape, sometimes working on the boat, sometimes Nick. Oftentimes Nick. He would a thousand times rather have been shooting pool with Nick at their favorite bar, or watching Sunday afternoon football at his house, or just about anything rather than have to go home after work and on the weekends and listen to Candy. She'd bitched and moaned about everything from money (the lack thereof, so she claimed) to how she wanted to travel, move to a bigger house, and buy a timeshare in the Bahamas, to Rafferty's lack of enthusiasm over the constant social engagements she planned, his love for his "useless boat," and his declining performance in the bedroom.

It had apparently never occurred to her that his lack of enthusiasm during sex had little to do with his ability to get it 9

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up and keep it there, and more to do with her constant criticism, frequent "headaches" and how she'd gotten in the habit of just lying there and letting him do all the work, then either rolling over and pretending to go to sleep right away afterward or springing up out of bed like a Jack-in-the-box and rushing to her computer to check her email or IM with friends.

In the back of his mind he'd suspected for months she was seeing someone else—the night of the car accident no one had even been able to reach her. She hadn't shown up at the hospital until the next morning, with the excuse she'd been hanging out with one of her girlfriends and had fallen asleep at her place. "Oh, and sorry, I guess I had my cell phone turned off." So it had come as little surprise to him to catch Candace at home one afternoon last winter on the daybed in the guest room with her legs spread and the hot-shit twenty-four-year-old loan officer from the bank where she worked pumping hard between them. Rafferty, still on crutches and exhausted from the constant pain and physical therapy, had barely even been able to work up a rage over it. Mostly, he'd just felt relief that he finally had an excuse to call it quits.

She had, of course, over the next few months, done everything in her power to squeeze him through the wringer, challenging and criticizing him at every turn, hurling accusations at him quicker than the fast-pitch machine at the batting cage he and Nick had used so many times. Which was when she'd made the comment about Nick and him ... and how maybe there was more going on between them than the good folk of Cavanaugh Bay would deem appropriate.

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He hadn't even bothered to deny it. At that moment in time it had just been another cheap shot tossed out with the sole purpose of riling him. Fighting back over that or any other issue would only have provoked her. He'd put it out of his mind—he'd thought—almost as soon as she'd said it.

In the end, in the divorce settlement, he'd finally agreed to give her the house and most everything in it just to shut her up and make her go away. That had been in early August.

He'd moved in with Nick temporarily until he could find a place to live.

And that's where the trouble had begun.

It turned out Candace's words hadn't, in fact, fled from his mind as he'd thought. He'd discovered that, instead, they'd embedded themselves in his brain like a bothersome grain of sand in a shoe that rubbed and rubbed until a blister formed.

That, combined with his and Nick's close proximity living in Nick's house ... and his imagination had begun to create scenarios that had shocked the hell out of Rafferty. Things that a thirty-something, set-in-his-ways straight man shouldn't have been imagining.

He'd cut short the stay with Nick, finding a rental and moving out after just a week, running scared from his own uncomfortable thoughts.

In a manner of speaking, he'd been running ever since.

"Hey, old man," Nick called with a grin as he approached, lugging plastic grocery bags and a black duffel.

Rafferty schooled himself into a calm demeanor—one he'd had weeks to practice, since he wore it like a protective cloak 11

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whenever he was around Nick nowadays. "Smart ass. Did you bring the beer?"

Nick yanked off his sunglasses and looked up at Rafferty.

"How many times've we been out on this boat now?"

Rafferty fiddled with the controls at the helm again, trying to pretend he hadn't been affected in any way by those warm hazel eyes. "I don't know ... six, seven times."

"Yeah. And I have I ever forgotten the beer? Has there ever been a single time I've forgotten to bring the fricking beer?"

A smile curved Rafferty's face. "Just testing you, kid."

Nick rolled his eyes at that.

"Here, pass me your stuff."

Nick handed him his duffel bag, and Rafferty did his best to ignore the jolt of awareness that slid through him when their hands brushed for just a moment.

This hadn't just been a bad idea ... it had been the mother of all bad.

Jesus fricking Pete.

What had he been thinking, asking if Nick wanted to take one last weekend trip in the boat before he winterized her?

He'd been doing his damnedest to keep his distance from Nick outside of work. Or, at least as much as possible without making Nick suspicious.

Then, as they'd been investigating the murder/suicide of a local shopkeeper on Thursday afternoon, out of the blue he'd opened his mouth and the invitation had emerged. One second they'd been standing in Arlo's Butcher shop staring down at the police-drawn outlines where the bodies had lain 12

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on the floor of the walk-in freezer, the next Rafferty had been looking into Nick's frowning face as he pondered a detail of the crime and been struck by the raw sex appeal the man oozed, even when he was all seriousness and on-the-job.

Before his brain could catch up to his mouth, he'd offered the invitation.

"You okay?" Nick asked, as he stepped onto the deck holding plastic grocery bags. "You look a little shaken this morning."

The concern on his face was real, and Rafferty wasn't pleased with himself that he'd obviously let something of his emotional state slip.

"Yeah, I'm fine."

Nick's brows drew together for a brief second, as if he weren't convinced. But he didn't say anything else. Instead, he moved past Rafferty, ducked, and went down the two steps into the cabin, where Rafferty heard him putting groceries away in the tiny galley.

Rafferty followed him to stow Nick's duffel next to his own in the closet. But the moment his feet landed the bottom step, he suddenly realized just how small a space the cabin was, and how he felt Nick's physical presence, so close and warm, in a way he'd never noticed before. Oh, no. Not good

"Do you have everything, or do you need to go back to the 4Runner?" he asked.

"It's already locked up. I'm good to go."

Rafferty nodded and escaped up the steps, needing the fresh air to get the scent of Nick's low-key, clean, spicy scent out of his head. It had worked like a drug, spreading through 13

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his system in seconds, stirring to life both fantasies and body parts that damn well didn't need to be stirred.

Taking several deep breaths to regain control, he keyed the engine and let the comforting rumble calm him.

When Nick came back up on deck, he automatically began pulling up the fenders ... a job he'd claimed as his own the first time they'd gone out on the boat. Nick had joked about the fact he'd grown up in landlocked Kansas and, since he knew nothing about the ocean or boats, pulling up the soft plastic fenders that protected the side of the boat from scraping against the dock was probably going to be the extent of help he'd be able to offer.

When he'd finished, Rafferty eased the boat out of its slip and into the channel that led out to the bay.

The weather forecast had predicted a beautiful fall weekend with daytime temperatures around sixty degrees. A cold front from Canada was supposed to blow through Sunday evening, but the nice weather was slated to hold until then.

"Which way are we headed?" Nick asked, sinking into the padded chair next to him at the helm.

He'd put his sunglasses back on, and Rafferty had donned his as well ... hoping they'd help hide any more odds and ends of the churning confusion inside him that might escape.

Back when they'd first met, Candy had told him his eyes were a dead giveaway to his emotions. Rafferty thought that as a cop for the past twelve years he'd developed a pretty damn good poker face when necessary, so he hadn't ever really believed her. But he wasn't going to take any chances today.

The last thing he needed was to give away anything to Nick.

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"I thought we'd head up the coast apiece, maybe explore some of the islands."

Nick nodded. Then his lips quirked in a smile Rafferty saw out of the corner of his eye. "So ... I know the first few times we took the boat out, you were testing it, making sure it was seaworthy and all that. But clearly it's proven itself now."

"And?"

"Well, you've got the fishing boat, you spent like two years refurbishing it—"

"Three," Rafferty corrected.

"Okay, three. And you finally launched it a few months ago. So I'm wondering, at what point do you plan on actually

... you know ... fishing from it?"

Rafferty eyed him askance. "I don't."

"You don't?"

"Nah. My da was a good New England fisherman. You know that."

"Uh, yeah, which is why I figured that was the whole point of this." He swept a hand through the air.

"No, hardly. I used to go out with my da all the time when I was little. Loved being on the ocean, loved the feel of the boat beneath my feet. But I hated fishing. Hated baiting the hooks, which was always my job when I was with him. Hated the boredom of waiting for the fish to bite. And hated handling them when they did and we reeled them in.

'Raffahty,' he used to say, 'the sea is in yah blood. One of these days yah'll leahn to love it like ah do.'"

Rafferty smiled at the memory as he guided the boat through the wakes of other, larger craft and headed out into 15

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the bay. "The thing was ... I did love the sea. Still do. Just not the backbreaking life of being a fisherman."

Nick was quiet for a moment, then huffed out a soft, incredulous laugh.

"What?"

"It's just ... I'll be damned. The son of a fisherman ... the fishing boat ... I just assumed. Amazing how you can be around someone for so long and still manage to be surprised by things about them you never knew."

Rafferty shrugged and smiled. But under his outward façade, a flutter of unease stirred in his stomach. What was even more amazing was when you discovered things about yourself you never knew.

He risked a glance at Nick, who was gazing off toward the rocky shoreline as if he were lost in thought. Taking advantage of Nick's attention being elsewhere, Rafferty allowed himself to more closely study his friend and partner.

Almost six years younger than Rafferty, Nick, at twenty-nine, was one of those men who seemed to have everything going for him. He was wicked smart—had worked his way up from a uniform to a position as a police detective in just a few short years. He was athletic, had a good sense of humor, was kind to old ladies, children, and animals. He usually wore his light brown hair short and spikey and nearly always had a day or two or three's worth of facial hair, which he claimed was simply due to the fact he hated to shave, yet it always managed to look hip, as the kids liked to say, and—Rafferty hesitated to use the word because it somehow implied an 16

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intimate familiarity he wasn't sure he was comfortable with, but it was stuck on his tongue anyway— sexy.

Nick's face was an interesting contrast of sharp planes and angles that almost made him appear too serious ... until he smiled. And then his dimpled grin lit a fire behind his intelligent gray-green hazel eyes ... a grin Rafferty had seen soothe many a witness and suspect alike.

Still ... what was it about this man that was keeping him tied up in knots? For God's sake, they'd worked side by side for years and until recently he'd never felt this way, never felt so drawn to him.

But Candace's words kept coming back to haunt him.

As always, he tried to analyze his recent reactions with a critical eye. Okay, maybe he hadn't always been so blatantly obsessed by Nick ... but he and Nick had hit it off right away when they'd first met. And Rafferty had always enjoyed spending time with him. Hell, he'd preferred Nick's company over his own wife's. Of course, that didn't say anything definitive. Toward the end of his disastrous marriage, he'd have preferred carmudgeonly Chief Kramer's company over Candy's.

Thinking back to when he'd first met Nick, he tried to remember if he'd had any particularly unusual reactions to him then. He'd come to work one Monday morning to discover he was being assigned a partner—a young man who'd just moved up the coast from Boston. His previous partner, Lou, had retired for health reasons, so Rafferty had been solo for a couple of months. His first thought when he'd met Nick had been that he was a good-looking, fresh-faced kid with a cocky 17

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attitude. He'd soon discovered, however, that Nick's cockiness wasn't all swagger and talk. The kid was good. And he wasn't a show-off or an asshole as many young men might have been. Nick had been willing to listen and learn.

By the end of the first week, they'd bonded on the job and worked together as if they'd been doing it for years rather than days. By the end of the second week, they'd already begun to hang out together after hours. And it had been that way ever since.

"How's your mom?" Nick asked, pulling him from his reverie. "It's been a couple of months since you let me tag along on a visit to her."

Rafferty winced internally. Since his obsession had begun and he'd been trying to spend less time with Nick in hopes of getting this crazy longing out of his system. He felt bad about it, though, because his mom always enjoyed Nick's company and she'd asked about him the past few times Rafferty had been to see her in the assisted care facility where she lived.

"She's doing well. The docs changed her meds around, so she's having less balance problems. And someone new moved into the room across the hall from her, another woman with MS. I guess they've hit it off. This other woman is as passionate about movies as Mom is, so they've been whiling away a lot of hours watching all the old 'classics,' as Mom calls them." He glanced over at Nick. "When I was up there this week, she said to send you her love."

Nick's smile tugged at something funny deep in Rafferty's core.

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"She's a sweetheart, Annabelle Jones. I'm glad she's found a new friend. Friends are what make the world go round."

Rafferty swallowed around the lump that had suddenly formed in his throat. "Yeah, they do," he said hoarsely.

Best keep that in mind, Rafferty. Nick's your friend. Don't do anything to ruin it.

"So," he said, trying to get his wayward thoughts and emotions back on an even keel. "You wanna take the wheel for while?"

This time Nick's soft laugh was uneasy. "Sure ... if you want me to. But I think it's worth mentioning that it still makes me nervous. This is, after all, your pride and joy."

Rafferty grinned. "So's my Mustang, but you don't seem to have a problem driving it."

"Yeah, well, I've been driving cars since I was old enough to reach the gas pedal," Nick said, a smile teasing the corners of his lips. "We start young in Kansas ... you know, the whole driving the farm truck to help with chores thing. But that's a little different than handling a boat on the ocean, thanks. And you didn't put three years worth of work into your Mustang, either. I had to listen to too many hours of detailed descriptions about what all you did to this thing, how much it cost, how much blood, sweat and tears you poured into it.

Kind of puts the fear of God in me every time you want me to take the wheel."

"Come on, get over here, kid. I'll make a seaman out of you yet."

Yeah, being friends is good. I can do this and put all that nonsense out of my head.

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But when Nick stepped close to take the wheel, for an electric instant their shoulders and then their hands brushed, and the surge of heat that spread from the points of contact throughout Rafferty's body nearly stole his breath.

In that instant, Rafferty knew he could try to pretend all he liked, but somewhere along way, the line between friendship and ... well, something else had blurred.

* * * *

Around noon, they anchored on the leeward side of a tiny unnamed island and dug into the ham sandwiches Nick made in the galley.

As they reclined in their chairs on the deck, the warmth of the sun beat down on them, and a handful of fluffy white clouds scudded across the sky. The sound of the waves lapping at the boat lulled Rafferty into a mellow mood.

"Too bad the water temperature's so cold this time of year.

That little sandy beach there"—he pointed a hundred yards away to the narrow strip of beach on the southern edge of the island—"would have made a good spot to hang out this afternoon. But we'd freeze our asses off to swim there, and the water's not deep enough to get any closer in the boat."

"Excuse me, but the water up here in the frozen north is always too damned cold for me, even in the dead of summer," Nick said.

"The frozen north?" Rafferty snorted a laugh. "You big wimp. What the hell are doing up here then? You should have moved to Florida if you wanted warm water."

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"Hey, I didn't see you swimming much this summer either, so don't even think about giving me shit." Nick's grin was contagious. "I'll just sit here and admire that stretch of beach from a distance, thanks. But if you want to take a dip, go for it and I'll cheer you on."

"In fifty degree water? I'd be lucky to make it to shore without giving myself a heart attack from cold shock. I'll just sit here and admire it with you."

"A sensible decision."

"Yeah, well, you know me ... I'm all about sensible."

"Yep, a sensible, stubborn Mainer."

"That's Main ah, not Main er, kid," he said, exaggerating the dialect used by most locals. "If you're going to live here, you've gotta learn to talk the talk."

Nick snorted. "I've been here four years. You'd think if I was going pick up the 'talk' I would've done it by now. I hate to say it, but I'll probably always sound like a good Midwestern boy. Sorry, Raff, but you'll have to learn to love me as I am."

A ragged twinge hit Rafferty square in the chest, making it hard to breathe.

Thinking fast, needing to cover himself in case he'd let the jolt of shock show on his face, Rafferty held up his beer bottle and clinked the rim of it against Nick's. "Here's to my two-month anniversary of freedom."

Nick sobered. "Has it been exactly two months today?"

"Yep. May Candace ... Hell, may she and her boy-toy live happily-ever-after in my house with my furniture and my high-def plasma TV."

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Nick's easy smile curved his lips. "But not your Stones albums."

Rafferty gave him what he hoped was a scandalized look.

"God forbid. Bite your tongue!"

"And she didn't get your boat either."

Rafferty had to chuckle at that. "She'd rather have burned in hell first. She hated this thing. Hated the time I spent working on it. Hated the money I put into it. She was pissed and didn't talk to me for a month when I bought it. Told me I was out of my mind to buy an old, beat-up wreck that'd never float."

"Hence the name of the boat," Nick said with a grin.

Rafferty tipped up his beer bottle and swallowed, a grin flirting at his own lips. Candy had been such a bitch over him buying it, so he'd taken her words and named the boat Out Of My Mind. He'd meant it as a tease—albeit a defiant one—but she'd been so furious she hadn't ever, not even once, come to see it when he was working on it. And at their final divorce hearing her last words to him had been, "I hope you and your fucking precious boat make each other very happy."

He supposed if he'd been smarter and a little less oblivious, he should have seen the signs way back when he bought the boat that their marriage wasn't in real healthy shape.

"So..." Nick said, his brow suddenly furrowed. "Seriously

... are you doing okay?"

"Yeah, why wouldn't I be?"

"Well ... let's see. We're sitting here celebrating the fact that two months ago your marriage was officially over."

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Rafferty took another draught of beer before he responded, still wondering at how truly unemotional he'd felt all along over the break-up of his marriage. He just ... didn't care. No, that wasn't true. He did care, but what he felt was profound relief it was done. "My marriage was over long before the divorce was final. Long before I caught Candace having an afternoon delight at the house."

"I know. But still ... divorce sucks. And you really did look kind of weird when I first came onboard this morning. Has Candace been in touch with you about anything?"

"Ha! She got pretty much everything. What could she possibly ever need to talk to me about again? I'm telling you, Nick, there was no love lost between us. There hadn't been for years. To tell the truth..."

He paused, gazing deep in thought out at the distant horizon, where the faintest hint of clouds brewed. "I suppose I'm not real proud to say this, but I'm not sure we ever really loved each other. We met at a bar, she was turned on by the fact I was a cop, we went to bed together, and got married a month later. Not one of my brighter moments."

"There must have been something there. You guys were married for almost five years."

"I think for all she bitched about it never being enough, she liked my paycheck. Because as long as she was married to me, it meant she could work part-time instead of full-time.

I think that's what ticked her off the most when I filed for divorce. It meant her gravy train had come to an end."

Rafferty sighed. "I don't know exactly when it started going downhill, though. In the beginning, I guess the sex was good 23

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and that was enough. But we came from two different worlds.

She had dreams of bigger and better things, wanted to escape this place and live somewhere better, fancier, like her wealthy grandparents down on Long Island. And I..." He shrugged. "Well, you know me. I'm just a practical, boring guy, and more than content right here."

The weight of Nick's warm hand on his shoulder startled him. He looked up to find his friend's gaze on him. "Practical you may be. It's a quality I appreciate about you. But there's nothing boring about you, Rafferty. And if Candace couldn't see that, screw her."

His words and gaze held an intensity Rafferty had never seen in Nick before, an intensity that sent slow pulses of heat through his veins, almost making him lightheaded. For a moment he wanted to believe maybe there was more to Nick's look and words than lay on the surface, but then he scoffed at himself, knowing better.

Nick gave Rafferty's shoulder a squeeze before he removed his hand. Rafferty immediately felt the loss of its warmth, and for a fleeting moment, wondered what Nick's hands would feel like without his shirt in the way, on his bare skin.

Stop it. Right now. Just stop it.

He swallowed hard.

"Don't let what happened with Candace get to you," Nick advised. "You're not, are you?"

"God, no." Rafferty looked into Nick's warm gaze and felt something inside him shift.

You're what's gotten to me. And I don't know what the hell to do about it.

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[Back to Table of Contents]

25

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CHAPTER 2

They spent the rest of the afternoon cruising along the coast and islands. Rafferty pointed out several lighthouses and rattled off their histories, they watched the gulls circle, and they talked. Mostly about work, Nick noted. Which was pretty much the way things had been recently—all work and not a lot of play.

Something was bothering Rafferty. Something that had caused him to pull away and draw into himself over the past few weeks. He tried to hide it, tried to act normal, like everything was copacetic, but Nick had known him long enough to be certain something wasn't right. He'd been hoping this weekend on the boat would give him a chance to dig the truth out of his friend.

Too bad he'd gotten exactly nowhere with that plan. When Rafferty dug in his heels, it could be like trying to pry a stubborn barnacle off a boat's hull to get the man to share his feelings.

Nick had figured maybe the reality of Rafferty's divorce had finally sunk in and was bringing him down. It could be damned lonely to live alone—something Nick knew all too well. And although he'd never been through a divorce himself, he had been through the break-up of a long-term relationship and there was a certain amount of emotional fall-out that tended to linger once everything was said and done.

But now he wasn't so sure the divorce was Raff's problem.

Each time Nick had managed to slide it into a conversation, 26

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Rafferty's reaction had been pretty consistent and indicated he wasn't suffering too much over it. He seemed to genuinely feel it was for the better.

What Nick had noticed, however, was that there'd been something odd in the way Rafferty had looked at him today, with a kind of troubled expression in his golden-brown eyes.

Shit. A ripple of worry spread through him. After all this time, had Rafferty found out about him? Could that explain why Raff was suddenly holding him at a distance?

Yeah, it could explain it. But at the same time, Nick's cop sixth sense told him that wasn't it. He didn't know why he felt so certain except he just had a gut feel that if Rafferty had seen or heard or somehow homed in on something, he wouldn't shut Nick out or avoid him ... he'd say something about it. Rafferty wasn't exactly open-feeling guy when it came to sharing his own deepest emotions, but he tended to be pretty straight-up and speak his mind when it came to other people.

Which was a trait Candace had never appreciated about him. Nick hadn't spent a ton of time with her, mostly because he'd gotten the distinct impression from the start that she didn't like him for whatever reason ... and as much as Nick valued his friendship with Raff, life was too short to hang around with someone who just wanted you out of her sight, even when it was your best friend's wife. But from what he'd seen when he was around Candace and had watched her and Rafferty together, Candace had wanted a man who fawned over her every word, who agreed with her on every subject, and kept his mouth shut if he didn't. And that just so wasn't 27

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by M. L. Rhodes

Rafferty. The man was as solid and real and down to earth as the New England coast that had shaped him. You always knew where you stood with him. And unlike Candace, Nick more than appreciated that about Rafferty. It was one of the things he loved best about him.

Shit, if he were being really honest ... he loved the man period. He'd known it for ages, but had schooled himself long ago to accept the fact his and Rafferty's relationship would never be more than partners at work, and platonic friends outside work.

And most of the time he was okay with that. As okay as anyone could be, under the circumstances, anyway.

Now, watching Rafferty's capable, tanned hands on the wheel of the boat, the straight, confident set of his broad-shoulders, and the way the curls of his dark hair fluttered in the breeze against his neck under the navy blue baseball cap he wore, Nick fought the urge, as he had for too long to remember now, to go to him, wrap his arms around him, and pull him into an embrace. He never would, of course. But the quiet craving was never too far from his mind.

Nick hadn't been looking to get involved with anyone when he'd moved up here from Boston. He'd come to make a fresh start. So it had caught him by complete surprise when he was drawn to Rafferty from the moment they'd met. He'd known from day one, however, that his new partner was off limits.

The wedding band on his finger, along with the picture of his blonde bombshell of a wife on his desk, had said as much on Nick's first day of work at the Cavanaugh Bay Police Department. And that had been just as well. It had given Nick 28

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peace of mind that he could concentrate on his job without fear of distraction.

But the ring and the picture had disappeared last winter when Raff caught Candace screwing that young little weasel she worked with. And that's when things for Nick had gotten murky. No longer had the clear and obvious line he could never cross been there. He'd been beating himself over the head ever since with the basic fact that wife or no wife, Rafferty was a straight man and therefore still a hundred percent off limits. But Nick's body and, even messier, his heart kept telling him they didn't care. And more and more frequently of late, he'd found Rafferty in the starring role of most of his sexual fantasies.

It hadn't helped when Raff had stayed at his place for a week after Candace took possession of their house and Raff was looking for a place of his own. Knowing Rafferty was asleep in the room next to his, wondering if he slept in the nude, how he'd look stretched out on the bed in the moonlight, his dark hair disheveled, his cock erect and seeping as he dreamed, had kept Nick awake most nights that week. And the sounds of Raff in the shower, and the visions that had continually popped into Nick's head of how the man probably looked, sculpted and beautiful, with the water sluicing over his skin ... Nick was almost ashamed to admit he'd beaten off more that week than he had in probably the entire six months before.

Breathe, man. Just breathe and get over it. You can fantasize all you want, but that's all it can ever be, and you know it. Which is for the best. It's always been for the best.

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And, anyway, this weekend isn't about you and your secret desires. It's about finding out what's troubling your best friend.

He sighed. Yeah, but getting Rafferty to talk about whatever was on his mind was easier said than done.

By the time they anchored in a shallow cove of one of the outer islands for the night, he was no closer to knowing anything than he'd been before.

Dinner was an oddly tense affair, as if something had been brewing inside Rafferty all day and had reached the point it was barely contained beneath the surface. Nick had volunteered to cook, as he had on past trips, and Rafferty had readily agreed. But unlike in the past, Raff had stayed out of the cabin completely, hadn't offered to help in any way, and had puttered out on deck doing what even Nick, as a landlubber, knew were made-up jobs to stay busy.

After the dishes had been washed, they played a few hands of poker at the small table in the cabin, but it was clear Rafferty's heart and mind weren't in it. After half an hour, he said, "I'm really beat. I think I'm going to call it a night."

Nick checked his watch and saw it wasn't yet eight o'clock.

As he helped gather the poker chips and return them to the box, he opted for the direct approach. "What's on your mind, Raff? You haven't been yourself all day."

Rafferty rose from the table and put away the cards and chips in one of the latched cabinets.

He shrugged, his back turned to Nick. "Just tired. Got up early this morning."

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Nick rose, too. With both of them standing, the cabin felt almost too small to contain them ... especially with the tension radiating off Rafferty like a live thing.

"Look, you've spent the entire day on edge. Have I done something to piss you off? If so, tell me what it is and let's sort it out."

Rafferty continued to keep his back to Nick, pretending to search for something in the cabinet—Nick knew he was pretending because he'd pushed around the same couple of cans of baked beans several times now.

"No, of course not," he said, his voice sounding low and sincere, almost apologetic.

"Then what is it? I'm not blind. Something's been eating at you for a while now."

Rafferty shrugged and the motion pulled his shirt tight across his back, accentuating his broad shoulders, and sending a spike of need through Nick. With only two feet separating them, he was hard-pressed to ignore the heat Rafferty's body generated.

The sudden, uncontrollable urge to wrap his arms around Raff, pull him against him, and grind his growing erection against his friend slammed into him, almost blindsiding him.

What would it feel like to be pressed against him, to tear off the man's clothes—hell, tear off his own as well—and feel hot skin on hot skin? To kiss the back of his strong, tanned neck, run his fingers through Raff's thick, dark waves of hair, and spread his ass with his own hard prick?

Holy shit.

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Nick dragged in a couple of deep breaths to get control of his ballooning lust. Being around Rafferty had gotten him hard before, but never, ever with this intensity. Never to the point where he had to question, like he was doing right now, whether or not he'd have the willpower to fight it off. Right now it was all he could do not to make a pass at the man.

What the hell was going on?

And then, with an almost lightheaded surge of understanding, it hit him...

The odd way Rafferty had looked at him several times today. The incredible heat and tension right now in this small enclosed space.

No. No it can't be that. He was married to a woman for five years. There's never been any indication at all. You're imagining things.

But Nick's body was telling him otherwise. It seemed to be functioning like a finely tuned receiver, picking up intimate signals from his friend that set his nerve endings abuzz.

He swallowed hard, suddenly afraid of making a wrong assumption, but unable to stop himself from taking a step closer. He set a hand on Rafferty's shoulder, testing his theory, wondering if he'd lost his mind.

Rafferty almost jumped out of his skin at the contact, and Nick heard him suck in and release a slow, shaky breath. But he didn't shrug off Nick's hand and, in fact, for a split second, it felt as if he leaned closer to Nick.

Oh, God. I'm not imagining it. He feels it, too.

But he's scared.

Shit. Okay ... I'm scared.

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This was a development he'd never expected. For four years he'd kept his silence at work and around Rafferty about his own sexual preferences, wanting to earn respect for being a good cop without the labels and stigmas he knew from experience came from being outed to his co-workers. In spite of his secret fantasies about Rafferty, his friendship with the man had been above reproach, and Nick had prided himself on his ability to keep it that way over the years. But now, suddenly, the one relationship he'd thought he was completely certain about, and the one person he'd thought he'd known better than anyone, were being turned on end and he wasn't sure what the hell to do about it.

"Talk to me, Raff," he said, trying to keep his voice low and hoping Rafferty wouldn't notice how hoarse it sounded.

Another ragged breath escaped Rafferty. "I ... I'm going to sleep out on the deck tonight ... I don't think it's supposed to be too cold," he said in almost a whisper. He pulled his jacket and a rolled-up, nylon sleeping bag out of the closet with what looked to Nick like shaking hands, slipped past him and up the steps to exit through the small wooden door.

A draft of cool night air had wafted in while the door had been open, and it slithered across Nick's overheated skin like a ghost, causing him to shiver. Or maybe it was shock that caused it. But it didn't stop his pulse from pounding double-time, or ease the tight ache in his chest.

Was it possible? God, how could it be? He'd known Rafferty for years. Had never seen a sign, a hint, nothing.

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But he didn't think he'd misread what had just happened here. Didn't think it was possible to misconstrue sexual tension that packed such a powerful wallop.

Yet ... dozens of reasons why it had to be impossible flooded his brain, causing him to question his reaction. Maybe it had been his own sexual need creating the thick, swirling, hungry energy he'd felt. Maybe it had been all him.

No. No way. If it had been all him, why would it have overwhelmed him with such intensity now? He'd been attracted to Raff for a long time, but had always managed to keep it in check, mostly because in the past he'd known it was a lost cause. Tonight it had been different.

But how could he be sure? And how could he test it without risking their friendship? More importantly, did he even want to test it?

The thought that Rafferty might actually be interested in him in a more-than-friends way was like discovering the biggest, best Christmas present you'd ever wanted had just been put under the tree for you, waiting for you to tear into the wrapping and discover your heart's desire. But at the same time, if this was really happening, things could get complicated very fast. Nick had spent four years building a name and solid reputation for himself on the Cavanaugh Bay police force, and if something intimate started between Rafferty and him, at some point it was going to be inevitable others would find out. And then what? A tight knot formed in his stomach. Then you'll be right back where you were in Boston.

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But he was getting ahead of himself. That was assuming there was something going on with Rafferty. Right now he wasn't positive about anything. And if, in trying to find out, he came on to Raff, but Rafferty's interest had been a figment of his imagination, then most likely Rafferty would slam the door shut on their friendship faster than Nick could blink.

God, I don't want that. I don't want to lose him.

No. He couldn't chance it. Wasn't willing to take the risk.

He couldn't make the first move. If there was something going on here, Rafferty would have to be the one to make a move. It was the only way to be sure.

Taking a breath to steady himself and trying to ignore the way his pulse raced at the thought of being near Raff again, Nick pulled another sleeping bag out of the closet and exited the cabin.

The couple of other times they'd overnighted on the boat, they'd both slept on deck. There'd never been any discussion about them sharing the berth in the cabin, or about one of them sleeping inside while the other slept out. They'd both just always rolled out sleeping bags under the stars.

Raff was checking the radar when Nick emerged.

"Weather still okay?" Nick asked, wanting to say something to break the silence as he spread out his bag.

What he really wanted was to ask Rafferty point-blank what the hell had just happened in there and was he as hot as Nick was right now? But he knew better. He has to make the move. You can't do it.

"The front's definitely moving in, but it's still not expected to come through until late tomorrow sometime. We should 35

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probably head back to land first thing in the morning, though, to be on the safe side."

"Sure. Whatever you say. You're the captain."

But Nick had to wonder how much Raff's decision to call an early end to the trip was related to the weather and how much was related to getting off the boat and away from Nick.

Maybe I did imagine it.

No. No, if he had, then what was Rafferty running from?

[Back to Table of Contents]

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CHAPTER 3

Rafferty lay in his sleeping bag, trying to let the gentle rocking of the boat beneath him lull him into oblivion.

Sleeping on a boat was one of his favorite things—had been since he was a kid. But for the past two hours, he hadn't even dozed. Oh, he'd closed his eyes and tried, but it hadn't done any good. His entire existence focused on the warm, hard body just a foot away from him.

Nick.

His friend's soft, even breathing for the past hour had assured Rafferty Nick was asleep. The man lay close enough, if Rafferty were lying on his back, he could reach out and touch him. But he wasn't and didn't. Instead, when he'd first crawled into his sleeping bag, he'd rolled onto his side away from Nick, hoping for some truth to the old adage "out of sight, out of mind."

It hadn't worked.

Instead, his mind had kept up a constant hum of activity fully centered around Nick.

Rafferty had replayed the scene in the cabin a dozen times, trying to read every nuance of their conversation, the way Nick had stepped close and touched him, his reaction. It had taken every ounce of self-control he possessed not to turn and give into the overwhelming urge to kiss the younger man. Good God. He'd never kissed a man in his life. Had never even thought about it ... until this obsession with Nick had begun.

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What the hell would Nick have thought of him if he'd done it? Would he have shoved him back and demanded they leave right away? Would he have suffered through it, then broken it to Rafferty gently that he wasn't interested in that kind of relationship and treated Rafferty with polite disdain from here on out?

Or would he have kissed you back? Would he have pulled you against him, tasted you, touched you, and let you know in no uncertain terms he was very much interested?

The heat and raw sexual need permeating the cabin as they'd stood so close had nearly created a spontaneous combustion. For a few seconds, Rafferty had allowed himself to think maybe the attraction might be mutual ... the way Nick had touched his shoulder, had stood so close. But then he'd come to his senses and realized the cabin was so small that when both of them were in it, they were going to be close no matter what. And Nick's hand on his shoulder wasn't any different than when Nick had touched him in a very similar way earlier in the day.

Yeah, but when he did it this afternoon, you had the same reaction, remember? You wondered then...

No. No, he'd become so obsessed with Nick, now he was trying to read things into his friend's every look and touch and action. Things that just weren't there, that were nothing more than wishful thinking on Rafferty's part.

Wishful thinking?

For weeks he'd been telling himself this was nothing more than passing craziness and he didn't really want Nick in a sexual, it was just one of those unexplainable urges that 38

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popped up from time to time in life for things you teased yourself with because you knew it wasn't ever going to happen. He'd figured sooner or later he'd snap out of it. So when had it become wishful, as in something he did want?

God ... did he want it?

Rafferty scrubbed a hand over his cold cheeks.

"No," he muttered to himself under his breath. "It's crazy.

I'm not attracted to men. I've never been attracted to men, so what in the name of God has gotten into me?"

I'm going to sleep now, he ordered himself. And in the morning, things are going to get back to normal. I'm going to wake up and see Nick as my friend and partner and nothing else, the way it's supposed to be.

But even as he closed his eyes yet again and finally managed to relax, he was acutely aware of the masculine body lying so near, and felt again the touch of Nick's hand on his shoulder, smelled his clean, spicy scent, and heard the warm, husky timbre of his voice against his ear...

* * * *

"Talk to me, Raff." Strong arms slid around his waist from behind. "Tell me what you want."

Unable to resist the urge, Rafferty leaned back against the solid wall of chest. Nick was only an inch or so shorter than he was, and somehow it felt right to lean on him. "I want..."

He stared out at the blue surf and realized they were standing on a beach. A pristine, sandy beach like the one they'd seen earlier in the day. Except now they were on it and the Out Of My Mind bobbed at its anchor a hundred or so 39

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yards out in the water. The sun beat down on them, seeping into the bare skin of Rafferty's chest. When had he taken off his shirt?

"You want what? Tell me."

The words were punctuated by kisses on his neck. Callused hands slid up his abs to his chest, brushing over his nipples, sending small shocks of pleasure through him.

"Now's not the time to exhibit that trademark stoicism,"

Nick breathed. "You have to tell me what you want, Rafferty.

Just say it."

"I want..." The words caught in his throat, where they'd been for the past two months. But he was tired of holding them in, of hiding. He didn't believe Nick would be touching him like this if he couldn't handle what Rafferty needed to say. "I want you." The admission slid out, finding freedom at last, making Rafferty dizzy with relief to say it aloud.

Nick grasped his chin, turned his head, and with a sultry glint in his eyes, lowered his mouth over Rafferty's in a kiss that shot fire straight through Rafferty's veins and into his cock. As Nick's mouth explored Rafferty's, his hands did their part as well, one plucking at a nipple, the other dipping low, down into the waistband of Raff's lightweight cargo pants.

Rafferty's breath caught in both shock and pleasure as the gentle brush of Nick's fingertips slid over the hard ridge of his erection.

And then Nick's groin was grinding against his ass. Rafferty felt the stiff bulge that said Nick wanted him just as much as he wanted Nick.

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With a hot, confident hand, Nick fisted Rafferty's cock, spread the already seeping milk of his desire over the head with his thumb, then stroked him in a slow, sweet motion that almost made Rafferty's knees buckle. "Oh, God..."

"Good?"

"Pants off ... need ... off," Rafferty gasped, barely able to form words.

Nick's hand slid up and away from his groin, but before Rafferty had a chance to miss the contact too much, Nick had his pants unfastened and pushed down around his thighs, exposing Raff's dick to the sun and warm breeze. But he didn't stop there. Rafferty felt him work at his own pants as well and then the last barrier between them was gone and Nick's cock, hot and hard, pressed against Rafferty's butt.

Nick's hands returned their attention to Rafferty's aching, heavy shaft, one wrapping around it, the other sliding lower, to knead his testicles.

"I've wanted this ... wanted you for so long," Rafferty whispered.

Nick ground against him from behind and pulled at his cock in the front, sandwiching Rafferty in a building wave of sensation. All he could do was reach behind him and grasp Nick's lean hips, hold on for his life.

And then they were somehow in the water, cold but quickly heating around them as they floated, Nick still holding him tightly from behind, still playing with his throbbing dick, and Rafferty thrusting forward into that perfect hand, and back against that hot rod of steel he suddenly, badly wanted inside him.

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"Do it," he gasped.

"Rafferty..." Nick's voice was as hoarse as his own.

"Please, Nick ... do it. I want it. Want you."

"Raff ... Raff!"

He said it with such urgency it startled Rafferty. Water splashed into his face, colder than it had been moments before...

* * * *

And with a harsh shock of reality, Rafferty realized he was lying on a hard, wet surface that lunged beneath him like a bucking horse. The icy water on his face pelted harder now, bringing him back to the here and now.

He opened his eyes to find Nick leaning over him in the dark, holding a flashlight, his hair wet and clinging to his head, water dripping off his cheeks. The expression on his face was one part concerned and two parts stunned.

It was the stunned look that shook Rafferty back to full alertness. Oh, no ... did I say something aloud in my sleep?

"What's going on?" He struggled to a sitting position, trying to untangle his legs from his wet sleeping bag and wipe the water out of his eyes at the same time ... all while ignoring the dull, unfulfilled ache in his still-hard shaft.

"A storm's coming in," Nick said. "It started raining a couple of minutes ago and woke me. The ocean started heaving about the same time."

"Sonofabitch. There was nothing on radar or the radio when we went to bed." Rafferty finally extricated himself from 42

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his soggy bag and clambered to his feet on the shifting deck.

"What time is it?"

He saw Nick check his watch. "A little after one a.m."

The last vestiges of the dream slipped away, along with his concerns about what Nick might have heard him say. The storm and their safety were his priorities now. An icy calm slid over him as lessons learned from his father during boyhood kicked in.

"Here, put this on and make sure it's securely fastened,"

he directed, handing Nick a personal flotation device, then donning one himself.

He turned up the volume on the VHF radio and within seconds heard a storm warning from the Coast Guard. Radar indicated the disturbance had, indeed, blown in quickly, a precursor to the front expected to move in later in the day.

"We've gotta move before the seas get too high," Rafferty said. "We're too exposed here." He cranked the engines.

"What can I do?"

"Pull up the anchor."

Rafferty didn't voice it, but if the wind picked up even higher and the waves grew much bigger, they could be in real danger where they were and either be smashed against the jagged rocks that lined the island, or overturned by the rough surf.

"Okay, it's in," Nick called.

"Hold on," Rafferty shouted over the din of the storm as the rain came down harder. "This is probably going to get rough."

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Nick managed to get back into the passenger seat with some jostling as the boat lunged and fell against the waves.

Rafferty's immediate objective was to move around the island and find a wide-mouthed cove they could get into with little danger and that would offer them some protection. The tricky part was going to be doing that while avoiding breaking waves and trying to keep the bow or stern end-on into the waves.

"Damn, I had no idea storms could come up so fast out here," Nick said, his voice tight with tension.

"Wicked fast."

The rain fell harder now, pelting down in angry torrents.

The canopy over the cockpit did little to dissuade it, and within minutes cold, wet trickles slid down Rafferty's neck and into his clothes despite his zipped-up all-weather jacket.

It took all his concentration and a considerable amount of physical strength to hold the boat steady in the waves, angling it so each one hit them end-on, knowing that if one happened to catch them on the side it could roll them.

Next to him, Nick sat in tense silence, his knuckles nearly white as he clutched the armrests on the chair.

In spite of the running lights, visibility sucked.

"Help me keep an eye out," he told Nick. "I've got the GPS

on, but I prefer to have a visual as well and can't see the ass-end of a sea monster in this rain and fog."

"Okay. Tell me what I'm watching for."

"The island on our starboard side. We're looking for a protected cove or inlet, but it has to be wide enough we can 44

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get into it without getting beaten up on the rocks by the surf."

An occasional wave washed over the stern of the boat now, making it clear to Rafferty the wave height was increasing and their time was growing short.

Long, nerve-racking minutes passed as the boat was tossed up and over swell after swell.

"I think I might see something!" Nick said, standing and peering hard through the windshield. He moved behind Rafferty, out into the open, to look out where the glass didn't impede his view.

"Be careful and hold on," Rafferty warned as the boat hit another good-sized swell that jostled them hard.

"It looks like an outcropping of rocks ... or maybe a finger of land," Nick shouted from behind him to be heard over the sound of the engine, the rain, and the wind. "Is it possible there's a bay or cove on the other side of it?"

"Yeah." Rafferty strained his eyes to make out what Nick pointed to. "Yeah, that just might work."

With Nick keeping lookout, Rafferty began to ease the boat toward the island.

It felt like it took forever to maneuver closer, to get past the landmark Nick had spied and see if it might offer shelter in the form of a cove.

"Almost there," Nick called. "And I think ... I think maybe..."

Rafferty glanced back and saw Nick hanging onto the side of the boat, but leaning out for a better view.

"For Christ's sake, Nick, be careful!"

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In that heartbeat of a second, a wave broke over the stern of the boat with a vengeance, crashing down onto the deck, drenching Rafferty, forcing him to duck his head. When he looked back up to be sure Nick was okay ... he found the deck behind him empty.

His heart stalled in his chest, then resumed with an agonizing, pounding so hard he grew lightheaded. "Oh, shit!

Nick! Nick! "

He cut the throttle so the boat was only creeping, and set the GPS to record the general position where the wave had hit and Nick had gone overboard. Then, with one hand he angled the boat for another wave, smaller than the last, and with the other, switched on the spotlight and aimed it out into the churning sea.

"Nick! Nick, answer me!" he shouted. Oh, God, please be okay.

He swept the spotlight in an arc, back and forth along the starboard side.

Nothing.

He turned it off, hoping against hope Nick had been able to switch on the small LED safety light Rafferty insisted they both wore clipped to their clothing when they were onboard.

He looked into the darkness, hoping to catch sight of the orange light.

Still nothing.

"No. No, no, no, this isn't happening! Nick! Please.... Nick! "

And then he spotted a flash of orange, and another. The light!

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He turned the spotlight back on, aiming it in the direction he'd seen the flashes. And with a rush of adrenaline, he caught sight of a bright orange life vest in the angry water.

"Nick, I see you! If you can hear me, I see you! I'm coming for you!"

He said a grateful prayer his friend was wearing a PFD. It would keep him afloat and make it easier to rescue him.

But getting to him was going to be another matter all together.

Rafferty's pulse continued to throb in a desperate tattoo as he slowly—too slowly for his liking—got the boat turned and swung in a circle, all the while trying to keep the spotlight shining in Nick's general vicinity so Nick would know he was coming back for him.

Once he got the boat turned, though, he was headed into the wind, which made forward movement more difficult, forcing him to go at a slower pace. And he didn't want to go too fast anyway, for fear he'd miss Nick.

In fifty-degree water he estimated Nick probably had an hour or maybe a little longer before he'd lose consciousness, as long as he didn't struggle and didn't try to swim. Activity would only make him lose body heat faster and shorten his time. But even if he stayed quiet, the cold water would be a shock to his system and he was going to be hurting. His extremities would grow cold quickly and soon he wouldn't be able to grab a rescue line if it was thrown to him.

Time was of the essence.

Still, safety was paramount, and in the dark, with the storm, Rafferty knew there was no margin for error.

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It seemed to take hours to reach Nick again, although Rafferty knew it was only a matter of minutes. But he felt each and every one of them as a painful ache in his gut.

Nick, hang on. I'm coming for you.

He kept Nick on the starboard side of the boat so he could see him better. Finally, he felt as if he was a close as he could safely be in the rough water. He angled the boat so it was facing into the waves, then cut the starboard engine completely and stopped the boat.

He could just make out Nick's orange life jacket bobbing in the waves. "I'm going to throw you a rope," he shouted, hoping Nick could hear him. And if not, hoping Nick was alert enough to know what was coming.

Rafferty retrieved the throw bag, tied one end of the rope to the boat, and with the wind and rain buffeting him, wound up and threw it as hard as he could. It fell short.

"No, damn it!"

Wasting more of what he felt was precious time, he reeled it in. Then he leaned over and filled the bag with water for extra weight.

"Okay, you mother ... this time you're going where I want you to!" He threw it again, and watched with bated breath as it fell ... and landed just a few feet from Nick.

Thank God!

Nick worked his way over to it, and Rafferty felt a tug—

Nick letting him know he had it.

Waves tossed the boat mercilessly, but Rafferty focused his full concentration on getting Nick back. It's going to be okay. It has to be okay.

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Rafferty pulled and pulled, fighting against the rough water, the lunging boat, but finally, at long last, Nick was close enough he could make out his face, see how terribly pale it was.

"I've got you," he called, his chest squeezing tight. And then Nick was at the side of the boat, and Rafferty was leaning over to fist his hands in Nick's jacket. With a gut-wrenching groan and tug, he slowly, slowly dragged Nick up and over the side.

Nick collapsed in a heap on the deck, and unable to help himself, Rafferty sank down behind him, breathing hard, and wrapped his arms around him.

"I've got you," he murmured against Nick's icy cheek.

"You're safe now. You're safe. Oh, God, Nick..." His voice broke as a thick lump of emotion filled his throat, his chest.

Nick's nearly-frozen hands wrapped around Rafferty's arms encircling his chest and squeezed. "Th-thank you for s-saving my a-ass."

Rafferty huffed out a strangled breath and wasn't sure if it was a laugh or a sob. "Just don't ever scare the hell out of me like that again, okay? I don't think my heart could take it."

"I'll t-try n-not to."

"You okay?" Rafferty asked. "Are you injured at all?"

"N-no. J-just f-fucking f-freezing," he said through chattering teeth.

The boat lurched sickeningly in another swell, but Rafferty still held tightly to Nick, knowing he needed to get the boat moving again, but unable to let him go, knowing how close 49

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he'd come to losing him and never, ever wanting to go through that terror again.

But their immediate danger won out. They had to get to safety or they were both going to end up overboard.

"Can you stand?" he asked.

Nick nodded. "Th-think so."

"Come on." Rafferty helped him stagger to his feet. "You need to get into the cabin, take those wet clothes off, and get into the bed where it's warm. There are a couple of extra sleeping bags in the cabinet over the berth."

"Can I h-help you out h-here?"

"No, Nick. Your body temperature dropped while you were in the water. Your lips are blue and you're shivering, and this damn rain's not helping anything. It's imperative you get warm right now. I've got to get the boat into the cove you spotted, then I'll be in, too."

Nick nodded and Rafferty helped him toward the cabin. But with his hand on the door, Nick turned, like he needed to say something. Except he didn't. Instead, his eyes overflowed with a powerful emotion Rafferty couldn't even begin to define. But the sight stripped away the last of his own control.

He'd come too close to losing this man tonight ... too damned close.

In a swift movement, Rafferty slid a hand around to cup the back of Nick's wet head and pulled him into a kiss that shocked Rafferty with its intensity. He didn't know where it was coming from, only that he couldn't have stopped it if he'd tried. For a split second Nick froze ... and then he was kissing 50

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back, his hand moving up to clutch in Rafferty's hair, his lips cold, but the intention behind them anything but.

They clung together, saying with action what Rafferty wasn't sure he could have said with words.

But all too quickly awareness of their situation, the danger they were still in, brought Rafferty back to earth. He pulled away, breathing hard, and stared at Nick, shocked by the other man's response and by his own daring. Nick stared back with what was probably a mirror of his own startled expression.

"I..." But the words died before they were even formed because Rafferty didn't know what to say to explain himself.

"Go. You need to get warm," he finally managed to get out, his voice husky. "And I need to get us out of here."

Nick nodded. But the look in his eyes promised he wasn't going to forget what had just happened.

Holy God.

As he restarted the starboard engine and wrapped his hands around the wheel, Rafferty found himself shaking, but knew it wasn't just from the cold.

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CHAPTER 4

"Nick?"

The low, husky masculine voice pulled Nick out of the light doze he'd been using as a defense mechanism to forget just how damned cold he still was. He opened his gritty eyes and, in the dim glow from the generator-produced light over the sink, saw Rafferty sitting next to him on the bed, his dark hair damp, worry edged into every line on his rugged face. But something more intimate, more emotional lingered in the depths of his gaze, causing a quivering response low in Nick's stomach.

"Hi," Nick whispered, finding his voice gravelly from the cold.

"Hi. You're still shivering. Can you sit up and drink this?"

Nick realized Rafferty held two mugs in his hand. And also noticed, with a pulse of awareness deep inside him, that Rafferty had stripped out of his own wet clothes and wore nothing but a pair of navy blue sweatpants. His broad chest still held a faint tan leftover from summer, and with its lightly dusted triangle of dark hair that tapered down into a fine line on his abdomen and disappeared into his waistband, it was sexy as hell.

Nick levered himself into a sitting position, keeping the sleeping bag pulled tight around him, not wanting to let out any of the small bit of heat he'd managed to build, and reached for the mug Rafferty offered. He smelled the sweet scent of chocolate even before he took a sip, then sighed in 52

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appreciation when he did and the hot liquid slid down his throat.

"Thanks. I'm beginning to wonder if I'll ever warm up."

"We'll get you warm."

The words hung in the air for a moment, suffusing Nick with heat of a very different kind ... the kind that had to do with him and Rafferty tangled together nude under one of the sleeping bags, kissing, touching, fucking.

Rafferty's breathing seemed to have become constricted, coming out in soft huffs, and his gaze was everywhere but on Nick, telling Nick his friend's mind had probably taken a similar tack.

"Everything okay out there?" Nick asked to break the strained silence.

"Yeah. We're anchored in the cove now." Rafferty took a swallow from his own mug and seemed grateful for the change of topic. "It's still raining like all the demons from hell were unleashed from the sky, but we're protected from the worst of the wind and surf here. We should be fine."

Nick realized the sickening roll of the boat had stopped and now they bobbed much more gently.

"It was dumb for me to be leaning out like that. I'm really sorry."

"It wasn't your fault, Nick. You were trying to help. And I should have harnessed you. I should have thought to harness both of us the moment I realized how rough the weather conditions were." Rafferty shook his head and his dark brows drew together in a pained expression. "That was my fault. A stupid mistake that you had to pay the price for."

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"No, no way am I going to let you take the blame for my recklessness, so don't even go there. I may not be real boat savvy, but I've lived up here long enough to know just how many people drown or die from exposure because of going overboard. You saved my life, Rafferty. That's not something I'll ever forget. Especially when I know you put your own in danger to do it. The way those waves were knocking the boat around ... damn." Nick rubbed his eyes and counted his blessings, knowing just how bad the outcome could have been if Rafferty hadn't been experienced and known exactly what he was doing. "I owe you big."

"You don't owe me anything," Rafferty protested. "I just..."

His voice caught and another ripple of something tumultuous stirred in his eyes. "I..."

"You just what?" he encouraged.

Rafferty shook his head and gave him a wan smile. "It's nothing. You done with that?"

He pointed to the mug Nick held, which, when he looked down into it, he was surprised to discover was empty.

"Yeah, I guess I am."

He handed it to Raff, who rose and set it and his own in the small sink. Raff's steps were uneven, and it was more than just the rocking of the boat ... he was limping.

Although he was, for the most part, recovered from the accident over a year ago when a drunk driver had sped through an intersection and broadsided him, when Rafferty was overly tired or stressed, Nick knew his leg ached. The doctors had told Raff it might always do that, and he should just be glad he'd been able to regain full use of it again.

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Rafferty considered it a small price to pay. But Nick's chest tightened at the sight of his friend's pain. God knows the man was probably exhausted after what had happened tonight.

Rafferty dug around in one of the cabinets under the berth and came up with a wool Hudson's Bay blanket, which he laid over Nick's sleeping bag. "Here, see if this helps."

Nick lay back down and, grateful for the extra cover, pulled his sleeping bag and the blanket up to his chin. He could already feel the extra warmth of the heavy wool seeping into him ... and yet, it hit him with poignant certainty that he'd much rather have the encompassing arms of his best friend keep him warm than an extra blanket.

Rafferty turned off the light, and without saying a word, climbed into the berth and slid into the other spare sleeping bag he'd spread out next to Nick.

Nick once again felt the incredible heat pouring off his friend like he had earlier in the night. Except this time it seemed even more intense. And he was pretty damn sure he knew why. He knew what was on his mind and suspected Rafferty's was right there, too. Knowing Rafferty as he did, though, he doubted the man would voluntarily bring it up.

They lay for several long minutes in the dark, the only illumination the faint ethereal glow given off by the masthead light outside that Raff kept on when they were anchored at night. It filtered through the tinted acrylic hatch above them like a pale star. The pounding rain against the boat and the hum of the bilge pump almost, but not quite, drowned out the sound of their own uneven breathing.

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Each passing minute seemed to increase the building tension ten-fold, until Nick couldn't stand it any longer.

Everything in him wanted to reach out and touch Rafferty, lying so close, yet not sure what kind of a reaction he might get if he did.

"So are we going to talk about what happened out there?"

he said softly.

Such a long silence followed his question, he thought maybe Raff was going to refuse to answer. But then, finally, Rafferty said in a strained voice, "I thought we did."

Nick rolled onto his side, facing Raff, and tucked a hand under his head. "I don't mean the storm or my trip into the water."

Rafferty lay on his back. Nick heard him inhale, then exhale in a slow, stuttered breath.

Nick reached over and laid a hand atop Raff's ... not squeezing or trying to hold it, just a touch to make contact, hoping it would be accepted and not pushed away. "How long?" he asked.

"Long?"

"How long have you been feeling the urge to kiss me like that?"

Another series of ragged breaths escaped his friend, and again Nick wondered if Raff would bail on the conversation.

Damn, he had a right to, Nick supposed. Maybe the kiss outside had been driven by pure adrenaline and now Raff regretted it, didn't want to be reminded of it. Except ... There was also the matter of the words he'd heard Raff mumbling in his sleep. "Please, Nick ... do it. I want it. Want you." Had 56

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Raff been dreaming about him? It had sure sounded like it ...

and no matter how Nick spun it in his mind, he only knew one way to take those words.

Yet still Rafferty stayed quiet, slowly but surely causing Nick to doubt everything.

Confused and more than a little defeated, he was about to apologize for pushing when Rafferty said, in a voice barely above a whisper, "Since I stayed at your house that week."

The bottom fell out of Nick's stomach at the other man's admission.

Jesus. That had been back in August. Over two months ago—

Two months ... Of course. About the time Rafferty had started acting oddly, had withdrawn, and had put on the brakes about spending time with him outside of work. All this time Nick had thought it was the divorce, and maybe some of it was ... but had he been at the root of what was distracting Raff? The thought was dizzying.

"You don't have to say anything," Rafferty murmured, finally turning his head toward Nick. "I ... I know I'm out of line. I don't know how or why ... it just ... I just ... I'm sorry—"

His heart in his throat, Nick leaned close and pulled Raff into a kiss, cutting off his apology mid-stream. He kept it gentle and brief, not wanting to scare the hell out of Raff by letting all the passion that had been building up in him for so long overwhelm the man, but unable to stop himself from offering a hint as to what lurked beneath the surface.

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When Nick leaned back, he could feel Rafferty staring at him in shock.

"I guess we'll both be out of line then," Nick told him,

"because I've been thinking about kissing you for a long damned time, too."

"You ... Oh..." Rafferty breathed in the instant before Nick found his mouth again.

* * * *

Rafferty didn't protest, didn't try to pull away when Nick drew him into another kiss. He was reeling, both from Nick's confession and from the raw intensity between them that had burst into flames and licked through him like wildfire. It was almost as if everything he'd been keeping bottled up inside had, in one fell explosion, come to a head, and Nick's words had set him free.

A part of him was saying, "What the hell's going on? What are you doing? Have you lost your mind?" But the part of him that had been holding back for so long, that was still on edge from almost losing Nick tonight and desperately needed to keep him close, show him how important he was, won out with no contest.

Nick had been wanting him, too? It seemed unreal. But there'd been nothing teasing in Nick's voice. Rafferty had never seen him more serious. And there was nothing hesitant in his kiss either.

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was a powerful combination. The experience was new ... and yet felt almost familiar, comfortable, intoxicating. Right.

Right, as if he'd been waiting all his life for this.

God, was that possible?

But Nick didn't give him time to contemplate it ... his tongue delved into Rafferty's mouth, tangling with his, sending slow, hot thrums of electricity straight through his veins to coalesce in his balls. A heavy pull deep in his groin stirred to life.

It suddenly became infinitely important to not only kiss Nick, but to touch him. He'd imagined it so many times over, had wondered how Nick's skin would feel under his hands, sliding against his body.

Nick seemed to have had the same idea because he was already unzipping his sleeping bag.

Rafferty hadn't zipped his when he lay down, and had laid it out so the opening faced Nick. They moved toward each other almost as if out of instinct, and in a moment that stole his breath, he felt Nick's arm around his waist, pulling him close, into the warmth of his sleeping bag, bringing their bodies flush against one another. Even through the heavy weight of his own and Nick's sweatpants he felt the evidence of Nick's need.

Is this really happening?

Feeling the rock-hard bulge of another's man cock against his own was another new sensation for Rafferty. And yet, he was acutely aware that, though logic dictated this should be an awkward moment because he'd never done such a thing 59

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before, he wasn't uncomfortable about it. It felt good. Hell, it felt better than good.

Suffused with a boldness that surprised him, he slid a hand around Nick's back and tugged him closer until their mutual arousal had them grinding together and panting.

"Jesus, Raff ... you feel fucking incredible," Nick rasped, pulling his lips off Rafferty's and burying them against his throat.

The words incited Rafferty to even new heights of desire.

His mind swirled with need, shutting out all rational thought and enslaving him to the white-hot flame consuming his body.

In the dark and the growing heat of the small cabin, hands slid over skin, teasing, savoring, pushing Nick's shirt up and off, exploring and memorizing every dip and valley, every muscular bulge. And all the while they kissed ... a slow, sensuous melding of lips and tongues.

Rafferty floated in the dark whirlpool of sensation, hardly able to string coherent thought together. Nick's body, no longer shivering, but hot as a live coal, pressed against his, the fiery touch of his mouth kissing and licking its way down Rafferty's throat, his collarbone, finding one of his nipples and drawing it into his mouth, eliciting a gasp from Rafferty when the suction became intense.

Rafferty's imagination and secret yearnings hadn't prepared him for the reality of this, for the overwhelming eroticism of it.

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But when Nick gently pushed him over onto his back, slid between his legs, and started to pull down his pants, a ripple of uncertainty shot through him.

As if he sensed it, Nick paused. "Is this okay?"

Rafferty placed his hands atop the younger man's, not necessarily to stop him because, God, he didn't want to stop him, but at the same time, if Nick continued, this was probably going to go someplace Rafferty knew there'd be no return from. No hiding from. And he wondered if he was willing to live with the consequences of that.

This is Nick, not some stranger. Nick ... the man you've shared almost everything with over the past four years. Your best friend whom you trust implicitly.

Still, the unknown loomed before him, a big question mark that both scared the shit out of him and beckoned to him.

"I'm not sure how ... I've ... never done this ... Never been with a man before."

Nick leaned down to kiss him again, his lips hot, gentle, and tasting like chocolate. "I have," he said softly.

Nick's words caught him by surprise and threw him off balance. His heart suddenly pounding, he stared up at the other man in the dark, trying to make out the look on his face. "You have?"

"Yes. But I'd never do anything you didn't want to," Nick continued. "I never expected this at all, never dreamed ...

Well, let's just say you've already surprised the hell out of me tonight, so you can totally call the shots here. Tell me what you want, Raff."

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A shiver wracked through Rafferty. The same words from my dream.

Nick leaned over him and nuzzled his neck. His warm breath sent trills of need scurrying up and down Rafferty's spine.

"You can be honest," Nick said. "If you want to stop right now, I'll understand and we will. Is that what you want?"

He knew he probably should be saying yes, let's stop before this gets out of control, before something happens we can't come back from. But he couldn't. "No. I don't understand how this has happened, but, no, I don't want to stop."

Nick's voice was low, hoarse, almost desperate against his ear. "Say it, Raff. Let me hear you say the words." He lifted his head so their faces were inches apart and he was looking down at Rafferty.

There was no turning back. Not with Nick looking him in the eyes. Not when, in spite of the near-darkness, he could make out the same lonely, desperate longing in Nick's gaze that he felt in the very depths of his own core.

"I want you," he whispered, feeling the words slide free, and with them, a part of his fear.

Nick's hand caressed his cheek almost reverently. "I want you, too. More than you could possibly know..."

Their lips came together again, a mutual seeking of closeness.

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surprised him. But even as he repeated it in his head, there was a truth to it he couldn't pretend to ignore.

This time when Nick's mouth slid lower, licking at, sucking, nipping at his nipples, Rafferty gave himself up to it, rubbing his hands in Nick's short hair and holding him close, encouraging him.

Then Nick rose and looked down at him. "I want to touch all of you."

Rafferty knew he was asking permission. "I want to touch you, too."

When Nick's hands slid just inside the waistband of Raff's sweats, his palms callused and warm against Rafferty's hot skin, Rafferty almost shuddered with the jolt of need that hit him. Then did shudder when Nick eased his pants down, exposing Rafferty to the chilly air.

Holy Mother ... I can't believe I'm doing this. But at the same time, he couldn't imagine not doing it.

When Nick had Rafferty's sweatpants off, he stripped out of his own and knelt between Raff's legs Needing more contact, needing ... He wasn't sure what exactly, but knowing it had to do with being closer, touching, feeling more, Rafferty sat up and let his hands roam Nick's body. Slowly, he tested the feel of his friend's ripped abs, his sleek, hairless pecs, then back down again, following the line of his hips to his lightly furred thighs, and finally slipping around to stroke the soft skin over rippling muscle of his ass.

Nick held his arms out to the side and let Rafferty explore without pushing for more. But when Rafferty pressed his face against Nick's groin and took a deep breath to soak up the 63

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masculine smell that made his own cock twitch in eager need, Nick huffed out a soft breath and gripped Raff's shoulders.

His turgid shaft brushed Rafferty's cheek, hard and sleek.

The rocking of the boat beneath them played a game with it, sliding it up and down, bringing it closer and closer to his lips.

When he turned his head and the crown brushed over his lips at last, he opened his mouth and teased his tongue over the tip, surprised ... and yet not ... to taste a bead of slick, salty dampness.

"Oh, my ... unnh, God, Raff..."

Nick's hands burrowed into his hair and cradled the back of his head, offering all the encouragement Rafferty needed.

He held the younger man's hips in place and licked again, across Nick's slit. Then he eased his tongue around the ridge of the corona, knowing what felt good to him when he touched himself and trying to translate that into what his tongue did to Nick. Nick's masculinity seeped through his senses, hard, alluring ... so very different from the softer curves, scents, tastes of a woman. Better. Damn it all, it was better.

Nick shuddered and his hands tightened in Rafferty's hair, his fingers flexing and releasing against his scalp. "More," he moaned. "Please..."

The words rippled through Rafferty, settling in the depths of his belly. Spurred to continue, he broadened his path, exploring the full length of Nick's thick, veiny shaft, admiring the sleekness of hot skin pulled like tight satin over even hotter steel. He licked his way down the length of it, tasting a hint of salt from Nick's dunking in the ocean, nuzzled his nose 64

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in the moist warm curls at its base, tongued his heavy sac, growing drunker by the moment on his friend's musky arousal.

A part of him was shocked at his own open willingness, but at the same time, as it had been from the moment Nick had kissed him, it just felt like it was meant to be.

By the time he'd worked his way back out to the tip of Nick's swollen cock, the man was shaking, and soft, panting breaths escaped him.

Rafferty didn't need to hear any words to know what Nick wanted. And he didn't hesitate to give it. After lapping up several newly emerged drops of salty fluid, Rafferty opened his mouth wide and eased it over the head and down onto Nick's pulsing dick.

Nick groaned, then groaned again, louder, as Rafferty took him deeper.

He wasn't certain what he'd expected, how it would feel to have a cock in his mouth, lying heavy against his tongue, prodding against the back of this throat. His first instinctive reaction had been to gag, but that had passed quickly as he relaxed his throat and, more importantly, as Nick's appreciative moans and the way his hips thrust toward Rafferty, anxious and needy, overpowered everything but the desire to please Nick. To give the man the best damned cocksucking he'd ever had.

Rafferty wrapped the fingers of his right hand around the base of Nick's erection, and began to move his hand up and down slowly, in counterpoint to the sucking, and the in and out motions of his mouth.

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Nick shuddered and shook, then cried out as Rafferty used his other hand to gently squeeze and roll his balls.

"Fucking hell, Raff ... I'm not ... unnh ... I'm not going to last long like this. So ... so damned good."

His own cock and balls aching like a sonofabitch, dizzy from the sound of Nick's desire, his smell, the taste of his cum trickling against his tongue, Rafferty groaned, feeling the vibration against Nick's cock.

"Oh ... God!"

Nick's balls tightened and his hips began to thrust, pushing his prick farther down Raff's throat.

Rafferty groaned again, realizing the effect it was having on the other man, suddenly feeling a sense of power he'd never known before.

"Raff! I'm ... Shit..."

He knew Nick was trying to warn him he was close, in case he wanted to pull away, but nothing in the world could have stopped him now. He wanted Nick to come in his mouth.

Needed to feel and taste and swallow that part of Nick, and know he was responsible for making his friend lose control.

I want you to want me, Nick. The thought hit him hard with its honesty.

When Nick seemed to realize Rafferty had no intention of pulling off, his hands tightened in Raff's hair and, with desperate thrusts, he fucked Rafferty's mouth hard and fast.

Rafferty hummed and rubbed Nick's balls, supremely aroused himself at Nick's sensual frenzy.

"God ... never ... needed ... anyone ... this ... much," Nick gasped. "Raff ... ahhhh, fuck...."

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The first wave of hot fluid filled Rafferty's mouth and throat. Even though he'd known it was coming, it still managed to catch him by surprise and he barely remembered to swallow in time before it gagged him. And then there was more ... and more. He swallowed and swallowed as fast as he could, but felt trickles of it seeping out the corners of his mouth.

Some tiny voice in the back of his brain told him he should be shocked at what he was doing ... thirty-five years old and after a lifetime spent with women, he was not only sucking his best friend's cock, letting him shoot his load in his mouth, he was getting off on it. He'd never been more turned on in his life.

When Nick convulsed a final time and his body relaxed, Rafferty released him.

Before any kind of awkward silence could form between them, Nick cupped his chin and tilted his head up. Then he leaned down and brushed his warm lips against Rafferty's.

Rafferty felt the tip of Nick's tongue licking at the corners of his mouth, lapping up the remains of Nick's cum.

A powerful quake of desire rocked Rafferty from deep within.

And then Nick was pressing him backward until he was on his back and Nick was lying half-next-to and half-atop him.

"You've never been with a man before?" he murmured, his voice breathless with sated lust but also something that sounded akin to shock.

"No." Rafferty had a quick moment of fear that maybe he hadn't measured up.

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But Nick's next words laid his worry to rest. "Jesus, Rafferty ... your mouth's a fricking national treasure."

The comment, and the warm, intimate tone of Nick's voice filled him with an inexplicable high. A pleased smile curved Raff's lips.

"Damn, I love your smile," Nick said.

"It's dark ... how can you tell if I'm smiling." He still was.

Bigger now.

Nick's soft laughter sent a new trill of excitement through Rafferty. "Four years as your partner and best friend, four years of wanting you ... it kind of gives a man a lot of time to pay attention to every detail, to anticipate your reactions."

"You wanted ... Four years?" Holy God ... had Nick really wanted him that long?

"Oh, yeah. Does that surprise you?"

Rafferty could hardly breath he was so surprised. "Yeah,"

he whispered.

Nick's hands, warm and gentle, caressed his chest, his stomach, his hips, avoided his painfully hard cock as they slid down either side of his groin, then paused on his thighs.

Nick's body moved between Rafferty's legs, then he pushed them apart.

The gentle touch of fingertips against Rafferty's cockhead startled him and caused him to suck in his breath.

"Did you think I'd forgotten about this?" Nick asked, his voice steeped with promise. "Because I didn't. We have a lot of time to make up for Rafferty Jones. And I plan to make you so damned crazy you won't be able to look at me ever again without remembering how good we are together."

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Rafferty gasped as the hot dampness of Nick's tongue rasped along his shaft. "Oh ... God ... yes."

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CHAPTER 5

Having Rafferty flat on his back in bed, his legs spread, his cock standing like a granite monolith, waiting for Nick's attention was like something from one of Nick's best and hottest fantasies.

Except this time Rafferty was real. Nick's cock was still buzzing from the shockingly spectacular blowjob Raff had given him, reminding him in psychedelic color that the man was most definitely here and real.

"Have I ever told you what a damned sexy man you are?"

Nick asked him.

He heard a soft huff of breath from Raff. It could have been laughter or it could have been shock ... he couldn't see his face clearly to know for sure.

"No," he rasped. "I ... No."

Shock. Nick heard it in his voice.

"I'm kind of old to be sexy, aren't I?"

He sounded sincere. Surprised and sincere. For God's sake, did the man not realize what a truly spectacular sight he was?

Typical down-to-earth, practical Raff.

"Where the hell'd you come up with that idea?" Nick demanded. "Since when is thirty-five old?"

"You call me 'old man.'"

"Yeah, 'cause you call me 'kid.' Paybacks are hell. But in case you hadn't noticed ... I'm not a kid." Nick wrapped a hand around Rafferty's cock and gave it a slow, tip-to-root stroke that elicited a strangled moan from Rafferty. "I haven't 70

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been one in a very long time." Another stroke. "And you aren't going to be old for a very long time."

"You're still in your twenties."

"Not for much longer, but your point?"

"I'm older than you. By several years."

Nick sighed. "You told me earlier today you weren't letting what happened with Candace get to you."

"I'm not. What's that got to do with anything?"

"If I can be blunt here ... Candace is a bitch. I don't know why she's shacking up with a twenty-year-old numbers geek—"

"He's twenty-four."

"Fine. Whatever. I don't know why she's shacking up with him, but I'd bet my last dime it has nothing to do with his age and everything to do with how big his investment portfolio is or how big she thinks he can help her make her portfolio.

She's got her eye set on being rich and she'd have slept with someone warty and twice your age if she thought it could get her there. Now..." Nick leaned down and captured Raff's mouth in a kiss, then moved along his jawline and sucked his earlobe. "Back to where we were. You told me you're older than I am. Yeah, you are. And you're hotter, too."

A soft snort escaped Rafferty's mouth. "You don't have to humor me. I've been around long enough that I don't require flattery."

Nick dragged his erection along Rafferty's groin in a slow motion that rubbed their bare cocks together. "Does this feel like flattery? I'm hard as a rock again already, Raff. Because of you. Because I want you that much."

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A series of soft groans was his only response for several long seconds as he continued the motion, savoring the feel of Raff's jutting heat against his own.

"I just ... I don't understand why."

"Why?"

"Why ... me. You're young, attractive, you have everything going for you. I'm a thirty-something, divorced, straight man—or at least I thought I was until recently. I don't understand why you would've wanted me all this time."

"You mean aside from the fact you're my partner, my best friend, one of the smartest, most compassionate, not to mention sexiest men I've ever known, and the one person in the world I'd gladly spend every minute with?

"But you could find someone who's not a practical stick-in-the-mud whose never ventured far from Maine, and wouldn't know which fork to use at a proper dinner party, or who the hell Hugo Boss or Manolo Blah-something-or-other are.

Nick scowled down at him. "Since when do you give a crap about that stuff? That's Candace and her complaints talking again, not you. And I'm originally a farm boy from Kansas, remember? I spent my formative years shoveling cow shit and tooling around the countryside in a rusted-out pickup truck with springs poking through the seat big enough to skewer a person a new asshole. I've never been to a 'proper'

dinner party in my life unless you count the Sunday pot-lucks at my parents' church. And I'm not much sure I ever want to go to one."

He shook his head and nuzzled Rafferty's neck. "You stupid ass. I don't want some stylish, self-centered, pampered boy."

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He worked his way down Raff's chest with his lips, circled his navel with his tongue, then lower still, to lap up the stream of pre-cum oozing from his cock, smiling when Raff's hips lifted off the bed and he gasped.

"I want you, Rafferty Jones. Practical Maine cop and my sexy-as-hell best friend." He slicked his tongue across Raff's cockhead again, and while Raff was busy groaning, Nick teased a finger below his balls and along his crack.

Raff's quick intake of breath and his sudden stillness, as if he were frozen, waiting to see what would happen next, sent a sharp jolt of need straight to Nick's own groin. A sudden vision of Raff's legs up against his chest and him thrusting into his friend's ass, filling him hard and deep, riding him until they were both shaking and out of their minds with lust filled his head.

Breathing hard, Nick forced himself under control. That wasn't going to happen tonight, no matter how much he wanted it. He had no condoms and lube with him and wasn't even going to attempt it without them for Raff's first time.

When it happened, he wanted it to be as good as possible for Raff. Because you want him to keep wanting you. You don't want to scare him off.

No, God, no, he didn't want to scare him off. Nick was still reeling over the fact they were here doing this at all. Still reeling over the discovery Rafferty had been thinking about and dreaming about him, that he wanted to be with him in a way above and beyond friendship, so hell, no, he didn't want to scare him off. He'd wanted this for too long.

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But just because he didn't plan on fucking Rafferty tonight didn't mean he couldn't introduce him to certain other pleasures.

"Do you trust me?" he asked Raff, keeping his voice soft.

He heard a few whispered intakes of breath. "Yes."

"Then roll over onto your stomach."

Rafferty did as he asked, and it pleased Nick that what he felt radiating off Raff was anticipation, not fear or uncertainty.

He straddled Raff's hips and began to knead his shoulders and back with firm, gentle pushes.

Rafferty groaned, a sound of appreciation. "Holy Mother, that feels good."

Nick grinned and continued, working his way slowly down Raff's back, until the man's muscles grew pliable and relaxed under his hands. Then he moved to his ass, working it over, but at that point he felt Raff's relaxation shift into something else. A subtle quiver when Nick let his fingers brush against his crack. Another one when he moved lower and teased a thumb over the rough, warm skin of his heavy sac.

Nick scooted backward and massaged Raff's muscular thighs and calves, being gentler on his left leg, feeling the smooth scars from the various surgeries Raff had had after the accident against his fingertips. Then he moved back up to linger at his ass. And Raff seemed to respond with even more tightly strung tension this time, as if every time Nick touched him, stroked a finger along his crease, scraped his fingernails lightly over his balls, his touch zinged electricity into Raff's body.

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When Rafferty began to squirm in earnest, and Nick was harder than ever thanks to Raff's responsive body, Nick grasped his friend around the waist and pulled upward. "Get up on your knees," he said, his own voice so husky and thick with desire he almost didn't recognize it.

Rafferty slid his knees forward and raised up.

"This okay? It's not hurting your leg, is it?"

"It's fine." Raff's voice sounded as thick as his own.

Nick stroked Rafferty's back, then slid his hands down to fondle his ass. "I'm going to make you feel good, Raff. In ways you've never felt good before."

Rafferty's trembling response filled Nick with a satisfaction he hadn't felt in a very long time. Maybe never. It hit him suddenly that it had never been more important to him to please a lover.

At the first touch of his tongue to Rafferty's crease, Rafferty jumped in surprise ... but he didn't pull away. Nick smiled and dragged his tongue along the indentation ... up, down a few times. Then he spread Raff's cheeks apart, and traced down it again, this time letting his tongue flick over the puckered opening. Raff jerked again. "Oh, Jesus God," Nick thought he heard Raff mumble.

Damn, the man was responsive. And hot as hell. And suddenly Nick didn't think he could get enough. He delved into his mission in earnest, dragging his tongue over and around Raff's opening again and again, loving the way Raff's breathing grew more ragged every moment, the way his body shuddered, the way he began to thrust his hips back toward Nick's mouth, silently begging for more.

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He reached between Raff's legs and, at the same moment he wrapped his hand around Rafferty's impossibly hard cock, he timed it so he breached Raff's opening for the first time, spearing his tongue slowly into it.

Rafferty's response was instantaneous and explosive. His entire body shuddered, and he gasped. "Holy ... God!"

That's it, you beautiful, sexy man. I promised you'd feel good. I could spend the rest of my life making you feel good.

Almost dizzy with pleasure at Raff's reaction, Nick continued to tongue Rafferty and pull and squeeze his cock.

He knew the moment Rafferty was about to lose it ...

Raff's balls tightened, his body tensed. Nick drove his tongue as deeply as possible into Raff's tight, hot channel ... and with a ragged half-groan/half-growl that sounded like, " Oh, Jesus, Nick!" Rafferty went over the edge, pumping jets of hot cum against Nick's hand and the berth.

When he'd spurted his last and let out a shuddered sigh, Nick released his cock and pressed a gentle kiss against his lower back.

Then Rafferty rolled over, and in a move that surprised Nick with its intensity, he pulled Nick down atop him, reached between them, fisted Nick's own heavy, aching cock, and began to jack him off.

"Oh, shit," Nick gasped, shocked at this turn of events, but not about to complain. He braced himself with a hand on either side of Rafferty's head, closed his eyes, and gave himself up to the hard, insistent motions that were exactly what he needed and wanted right now.

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Within seconds he was on the verge of explosion, and when he came in a powerful burst that nearly seared his balls and cock, Rafferty, like a man filled with desperation to never let him go, pulled him down into an open-mouthed kiss and swallowed his cries.

Spent, Nick collapsed against Raff, his head on his chest.

They stayed like that for long moments, not saying anything, catching their breath.

Eventually Rafferty rolled to his side, taking Nick with him, until they lay side by side, facing one another, their bodies entwined.

Raff was being awfully quiet, and after the intensity of his hand-job and kiss earlier, Nick wondered what was going through his head. He brushed his palm over Raff's stubbled cheek. "You okay?"

Raff nodded slowly. "There at the last ... I couldn't seem to stop myself. After what you did for me ... I just wanted..."

He seemed to be having trouble getting out the words.

"You wanted to make me feel good again, too?"

"Yeah. And I didn't want it to end." The soft, raspy-voiced confession sounded like it had been pulled from the depths of Rafferty's soul. The honesty of it, coming from the man who so often kept his emotions close to his vest, ribboned through Nick and settled in his heart.

For the first time in a long time, Nick didn't know what to say. Everything that came to mind sounded too sappy or bordered too closely on him spilling all that had been in his heart about this man for a long time. And he didn't want to do that. It was too soon and this was all too new and fragile. He 77

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had a gut feel it might send Rafferty running for the hills. So instead he pulled Raff into his arms, kissed him with what he hoped Raff could feel was his own desire to never have any of this end between them, and just held him close.

They lay like that for several minutes, letting the gentle rocking of the boat lull them, and listening to the rain falling.

It sounded like it had eased up some and was more a steady patter now than a downpour

"I suppose we should clean up," Nick murmured.

"Mmm. Don't want to move."

Neither did Nick, to be honest. He was enjoying the hell out of the way Raff's leg felt so right wedged between his, the way his callused, yet gentle hand traced aimless patterns on Nick's back. But he knew they'd be more comfortable if they washed off the sticky remains of their mingled fluids.

He extricated himself from the comfortable embrace, and, with a groan, sat up and rolled off the berth.

"Now you're groaning like an old man," Raff said, his voice still a little raspy, but laced with a comfortable, intimate humor that stirred a warm rush in Nick's chest.

God ... did he dare hope what they'd started here tonight might go somewhere? Might lead to something lasting, where he'd get the chance to hear that sated tone in Raff's voice every night. For the rest of our lives? He swallowed back the lump of emotion that seemed to suddenly choke him. He knew better than to rush things. Knew one night didn't a lifetime make. But damn it, it had been a long time since he'd been in a relationship, and even that one, long-term though it 78

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had been, had been nothing compared to what Nick sensed he and Rafferty could have.

Because you love him.

Yes. Because he loved him. But he had to give Raff time.

Raff had never slept with a man before, much less embarked on a relationship with one. A relationship that, if he chose to pursue it, would bring a whole lot of new challenges to Rafferty's life. And Nick knew him well enough to know Rafferty wasn't big on change. Raff might be relaxed right now, floating on the afterburn of their lovemaking, here on the isolated boat. But how would he feel tomorrow, when they returned to civilization? Or Monday, when they went back to work and were surrounded by their friends and co-workers?

Nick knew what it was like to feel the censure of colleagues' gazes, to be labeled and have people forget that you were still the exact same person you'd always been, but once they found out you were gay, all the hard work you'd done before suddenly no longer seemed to matter ... the only thing that mattered was who you were fucking.

That was a different situation. With different people. A different dynamic.

Yeah, it was. But that didn't mean it wasn't still an uphill battle even in the best of workplaces. Even if they tried to keep it quiet, with them working side by side, day after day, there was no way someone wouldn't notice something. Hell, when you were in love with someone you couldn't help but show it when you looked at the other person, in the way you spoke to them or touched them. And, damn it, wasn't it 79

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supposed to be that way? But for Raff, who'd, from what he'd said earlier, had always been straight and had only recently discovered his attraction to another man ... being out at work, being out period, could be very difficult for him.

Too difficult? Like impossible? Like Raff might prefer to pretend this never happened?

Nick didn't know, but he couldn't deny it was a possibility and something he might very well have to accept.

How would it feel to love the man, and now have a taste of what it was like to be with him, but never again be able to touch him? To kiss him?

A tight band squeezed around his chest.

Don't get ahead of yourself. Just take it one day at a time.

He dragged in a deep breath and released it slowly, trying to let his worries go with it.

Enjoy what you've got here tonight. Time will sort it out.

God he hoped so.

Nick pulled a washrag off the shelf in the head, soaked it with warm water, and returned to the berth.

"I don't want to hear any crap about me groaning," he said with a smile, sitting down next to his friend, and doing his damnedest not to let his momentary bout of fear show. "I notice I'm the one who actually did get out of bed."

Rafferty had rolled to his back. "Of course you did. I knew all along you would. One of the first things you learn when you've been around a while ... always let the young guys do the grunt work."

Nick chuckled as he ran the cloth over Rafferty's abdomen and, more gently, around his groin. "Smart ass. I'm 80

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remembering that. And the next time you give me the crappy paperwork to do on a case, I'm conveniently going to be busy with something else and you're going to have to do it yourself. It'll be good for you. Character building. Isn't that what you always tell me?"

"And look at what a fine character you've developed."

Nick snorted. "Yeah, suck up to me. It's not going to work.

You've confessed and I know your secret now." Then he leaned down to press a kiss against Raff's all-too-delicious mouth. "I learned more than one secret about you tonight, Detective Jones, and I plan on learning all the rest as well.

It's just a matter of time."

Rafferty's soft, low laugh sent a new spike of need through Nick and he wondered how in the hell he could possibly want the man again so soon.

"What, are you planning to torture them out of me?"

Rafferty asked.

Nick quickly dragged the cooling washrag over his own body, threw it on the floor, then climbed back into the berth next to Rafferty and pulled one of the unzipped and open sleeping bags on top of them.

Raff had once again turned onto his side facing Nick. Nick lifted a leg over Raff's hips, and tugged him close. "Yeah ...

torture of the most intimate kind." He instigated another kiss, this one slower, deeper, their tongues lashing and thrusting together, until they had to pull away to catch their breath.

"And when I'm done with you, you're going to be putty in my hands and willing to do whatever I want."

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Rafferty's breath was warm against his lips, his body even warmer pressed against Nick's. "I think I already am," he said.

[Back to Table of Contents]

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CHAPTER 6

"Crew ... Out ... Mind ... okay?"

The scattered words bled through Rafferty's dreams, bringing him to a semi-awake state, but not really to the point where he could pry his eyes open or figure out what the warm, heavy weight around his waist and the heat coming from behind him were and why they felt so good.

"I repeat.... Coast Guard.... Out Of My Mind ... okay?"

That time Raff caught more of the odd words, but still couldn't put them or the tinny-sounding voice into context.

His mind felt fuzzy, still clogged with sleep, and not quite hitting on all cylinders, even though he was, in fact, awake now. He stretched and opened his eyes.

Daylight seeped through the small rectangular windows that lined the cabin of the boat and the acrylic hatch window directly above the berth ... not a sunny warm daylight, but a gray, ominous one. He couldn't see anything from where he lay on his side except the white-painted inside hull and the wooden shelf built against it that contained a battery-operated digital clock, which showed in glowing red numbers it was 8:35 a.m. But the sight of the boat, combined with the weight of the arm draped over his waist, and the masculine form snuggled against his back, radiating heat like an oven, brought back, in one swift rush, memories of nude bodies, intimate kisses, hard cocks slick with jizz, warm hands, even warmer mouths licking, sucking, tonguing ... oh, God!

Nick. Last night he and Nick had...

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Oh. Holy. God.

A powerful surge of need shot through his veins, making his limbs heavy and his balls tingle. It was mixed with a new, odd emotion that caused his chest to ache.

But before he could ponder it further or name it—and damn it, it seemed incredibly important he did name it—the oddly magnified yet muffled words he'd heard earlier filled the morning air once more, having the effect of icy waves of water breaking over him and dashing away the moment of arousing contentment.

" This is the U.S. Coast Guard Auxiliary. Crew of the Out Of My Mind , are you okay? Do you need assistance?"

"Oh, shit!"

His heart pounding, Rafferty threw off the sleeping bag and the wool blanket twisted around his feet, slid off the berth, and, realizing he was stark naked, searched for something to put on.

He grabbed his sweatpants from the floor and then, not seeing a shirt handy, pulled on his still-damp jacket.

Nick still lay sleeping, stretched out on his side in nude glory with only one corner of a sleeping bag pulled over his thighs, leaving everything else— everything else—exposed.

Looking at him only made Raff's heart pound faster, but whether it was from pleasure or the odd sense of fear that had suddenly assailed him, he wasn't sure.

He unlatched the door and clambered up onto the deck, careful to shut the door behind him.

Why? Are you afraid they're going to see Nick in there and suspect what you two have been doing?

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He felt like the lowest kind of jerk and hated to admit it to himself, but yes.

The damp, cold chill of the gray morning instantly seeped into him, and he hastily slid up the zipper on his jacket to his neck, even as he realized he was barefoot. The rain had stopped, but the cold, wet deck caused his toes to curl.

Shit. You're presenting a great picture here, Jones. Catch your breath and get a grip.

The Coast Guard Auxiliary vessel, a private, thirty-five-foot offshore Albemarle fishing boat, sat only a few yards away to the port side with two civilian volunteers aboard. One, a red-headed young man who couldn't have been more than twenty, held a bullhorn and had obviously been the one speaking. He lowered it when he saw Rafferty emerge. The other was a grizzled old mariner who looked liked he'd been around a block or two.

"'Mawnin'," the older man called.

"'Morning."

"We're just doin' a check this mawnin' to make sure we don't have any boats in trouble. Stawm came up wicked fast last night. Several small craft caught in it. You weathah it all right?"

"Yeah. We got caught on the other side of the island, but managed to get around here and into this cove. We stayed here the rest of the night." Rafferty was all too self-conscious of the fact he'd just let slip with the word "we", indicating to the two men he wasn't alone, and seeing them eye the cabin door as if wondering who was with him.

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He also realized he'd neglected to tell them about Nick's trip overboard ... probably because then they'd ask a lot of questions and discover he was out here with another man.

Stop it. You've been out here with Nick before and never would have thought a thing about it in the past. They have no way of knowing anything happened between you two!

"Pretty boat," the younger man said. "You the original owner to keep it in such good condition?"

"No. I bought her three years ago as a wreck and refurbished her myself."

"Nice work. She's got good lines."

"Thanks."

Rafferty heard the soft creak of the cabin door opening and saw both men's eyes move toward it again. Nick. His heart started that uncomfortable pounding again and he couldn't seem to turn and look at Nick himself. He had an imagined vision of Nick standing in the doorway, only half-dressed, his short hair mussed from sleep like his own probably was, with a look of well-sated contentment on his face, giving the Coast Guard volunteers an eyeful and all the reason in the world to speculate. If that was the case, he just couldn't know it right now. Couldn't look.

"'Mawning," the old salt said, looking over Raff's shoulder.

The younger man nodded a greeting as well.

"G'morning."

Just the sound of Nick's soft, still-gritty-with-sleep voice sent a curl of longing through Rafferty, making him ache low in his belly and in his chest, confusing him as to how it could 86

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have such a profound effect on him even as he worried about presenting a purely platonic picture to the other men.

To their credit, they didn't show any outward signs of suspicion and seemed to take Nick's presence in stride. So why then could Rafferty still not turn and look at his partner?

He knew the answer without having to think too hard. He was afraid he himself would give something away because he wasn't sure he could look at Nick without it being obvious to one and all how he felt about the man.

How do you feel about him?

He swallowed hard. Not now. Can't do this right now.

"You folks plannin' to cruise the coast apiece today?"

"No. We're headed home this morning," Rafferty said.

"Before the main part of the weather front moves in."

"Ayuh," the older man agreed. "Prob'ly a smaht plan.

Looks to be a treacherous one. You from downeast?"

"No, Cavanaugh Bay."

"Ah ... got a cousin hails from Cav'naugh. Well, we best be getting' on ah way. See if they'uh's any othah folk needin'

assistance. You be safe headin' back."

"Thanks, we will. And I appreciate you stopping to check on us."

"Ayuh. 'Mawnin' to yah both."

"Have a good one," Nick said.

The men each lifted a hand in farewell, and the big Albemarle swung away, churning a sizeable wake behind it that left the Out of My Mind rocking for several seconds.

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Nick put a hand on his shoulder, causing him to jump. "Shit.

Sorry," Rafferty said. "You startled me."

"You okay?" Nick asked, his voice low and soft with concern.

Slowly Raff turned, and felt a moment of surprise when he realized Nick was much more pulled together than he was, dressed once again in his sweatpants and shirt from last night, his jacket, and he'd even managed to pull on his sneakers before he came outside.

Rafferty dragged in several breaths, trying to reground himself and lose the tense shakiness that had held him captive since he'd first realized the Coast Guard boat was there. He dragged a hand over his face, feeling the scrape of day-old whiskers against his palm.

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm all right I guess. They just woke me up.

Surprised me."

"No, it's more than that," Nick said, pulling Raff's hand away from his face and tilting Raff's head up until their gazes met. "You didn't think..." Nick's warm hazel eyes widened.

"Oh, God ... you did."

"Did?"

"Raff, were you worried those men would know we slept together last night?"

"No. Of course not," he lied, and pulled away. Or tried to.

Nick wouldn't let him go.

Nick, with an understanding in his eyes and written on his face that was eons older than his twenty-nine years, shook his head. "Listen to me. They had no idea. The thought never crossed their minds. It poured all night. I don't care who was 88

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on this boat—on any boat—of course everyone onboard would be in the cabin.

With a humble sense of realization, he knew Nick was right, and instantly felt like both an idiot and a heel.

"I'm sorry," he mumbled. "I ... this is new to me."

"It's okay. I know." Nick's hand cupped his cheek, then Nick was drawing him into a kiss. A kiss that began chaste, but quickly grew into more. Not in a sexual way exactly, although Rafferty couldn't have stopped his blood from boiling or his cock growing stiff if he'd tried. Yet still, it was more intimate than sexual. It made him feel so close to Nick he wanted to crawl inside him and stay there forever.

But the cold chill on his bare fee, and the realization they really did need to get some breakfast and head home before the weather grew worse, finally forced him to put an end to it.

When he did, he had a fleeting moment of aching sadness, wondering if this would be the last time he'd ever get to kiss Nick this way.

Where's that coming from? Why would you think that?

Because the encounter with the Coast Guard volunteers had left him shaky and uncertain. In the dark, closed-in privacy of the night, on the boat in the middle of nowhere, he'd been able to relax and give in to his feelings and secret yearnings. But he wasn't sure he could do the same in the light of day. He'd barely been able to handle it here, in front of people he didn't even know. How would he handle it at home around people he did?

For weeks his fantasies had centered around Nick—kissing him, touching him, having one delicious sexual encounter 89

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after another with him. He'd never dreamed it could or would happen in real life, so his imagination and overactive lust had allowed him to trip merrily down erotic paths he'd never been before, and it had been titillating, exciting. But because he'd never thought it would be real, never thought it would be more than just fantasy, he'd never thought to take the fantasy one step further, into the territory of having an actual relationship with his friend. The kind of relationship that entailed dating—hell, is that what you still called it when it was two men?—or sleeping together in a real-world kind of way, and dealing with the practicalities that came with it.

Practicalities like facing other people, where, in a small conservative town like Cavanaugh Bay, having a relationship with another man could present one obstacle after another.

And he didn't do obstacles well. He liked his life to be steady, calm, dependable with no surprises.

You're about as exciting as a dead haddock, Rafferty Jones. You never like anything new, never want to try anything new, never want to go anywhere outside this precious state of yours. You're never willing to take risks about anything. You're an old man before your time. If I didn't see you get up and go to work every morning I'd sometimes wonder if you were dead already.

Candace's sharp voice sliced through him, stirring up anger and resentment as it always had, but also the same dull, aching sense that maybe at least part of what she said was truth. That maybe he was too stuck in a rut, too scared to venture out of his own narrow comfort zone.

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But this thing with Nick ... Oh, God. This wasn't venturing out of it, this was throwing himself out of an airplane at ten-thousand feet, terrified the parachute might not open, and that even if it did, he'd never be able to gain control of it and he'd be smashed to a pulp against the unforgiving ground on landing.

For a second such a sharp pain hit Rafferty in the chest he thought he might pass out.

"Raff..." As if he knew something of what Rafferty had been thinking and feeling, Nick's arms went around him, pulled him close, offering comfort, understanding.

"I don't know if I can do this," Rafferty whispered, leaning into Nick, accepting the comfort, yet feeling like he was being a hypocrite ... taking, but not sure if he could give back.

"Don't over-think it. Let's just take it one day at a time, okay? There's no rush. There's no pressure."

"I never thought beyond..."

"Beyond the sex?"

Rafferty nodded. "Never thought how..."

"I know." Nick leaned back and once against tilted his chin so they were looking eye to eye. "I do know, Raff. I've been there. Been through what you're feeling."

"How ... when? Last night you said you'd ... I mean ...

Jesus, I'm not sure what I mean." He dragged a hang through his hair and looked over Nick's shoulder at the helm, trying to sort his thoughts and ragged emotions into something cohesive.

"Last night I told you I'd been with a man before and you want to know what exactly I meant by that?" Nick supplied.

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"I guess, yeah. Was it one time or..." Why couldn't he just get the words out?

"I'm gay, Raff. I've known it since I was a younger teenager, but didn't act on it until I was nineteen. I had my first encounter with a kid back home in college. We slept together over a period of several months. Both of us were just beginning to explore and come to terms with our preference, and it was all good. We weren't in love or anything, but we genuinely liked each other and it was a good experience. I didn't sleep with anyone else until after I'd moved to Boston. There was someone there. We were together about two years and it was ... complicated. We broke up about six months before I moved up here and there's been no one since. Until last night with you."

"I never knew that about you. How I could not have known?"

"Because I made sure you didn't know. Because I wanted to be taken seriously at work for what I knew and what I could do, not who I was do ing."

"But we've been friends outside of work for four years. Did you feel you couldn't trust me?"

Nick sighed. "Yeah, I knew I could trust you, and if it had ever come up, I would have been honest. But the truth of the matter is, there was no reason for it to come up. I told you ...

I haven't been with anyone since I left Boston. It's not like I've been sneaking around seeing someone. The only person I was interested in was you. I knew it from the beginning. But I thought..." He shrugged.

"That I was straight."

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Nick nodded.

"So did I. I don't understand this. I'm thirty-five years old.

How does a person get to this point without realizing?"

"It's different for everyone, Raff. I can tell you you're not alone. There are plenty of other men who don't become aware they're attracted to other men until their thirties, forties, sometimes even much, much later than that."

"It's just all ... a lot," Rafferty said, pulling out of Nick's arms and stepping away. "Right now I ... I don't know what to think. My brain feels like it's on overload."

"Like I said, we'll just take this one day at a time. There's no pressure."

Rafferty swallowed hard and slowly nodded. "Okay. But ...

I'm thinking it might be best, at least for now, if we take a step back and just..." He sighed. "Well, if we don't do anything intimate for a while. Give me some time to wrap my mind around all this. Give me some space."

Raff couldn't miss the flicker of hurt in Nick's eyes, but when Nick said, "I understand. You take your time. I'm not going anywhere," he sounded sincere. Still ... there was an underlying sadness to the words.

And that made his chest ache worst than it already had been.

It's for the best. For now.

Then why did he feel like such a hypocrite, for a different reason this time? If it was for the best, then why did he so badly want to drag Nick back into the cabin, strip him out of his clothes, and do a repeat performance of last night?

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"You're barefoot. It's cold out here. Let's go make some coffee." Nick was smiling, clearly trying to soothe the tension and put Rafferty at ease, but the pain still lingered in his eyes—he was too genuine and open to hide it completely—

and that tugged at Raff's heart. Nick was a good man.

Probably too good to have to be tangled up in an emotional knot with a guy who didn't know whether he was coming or going, who wanted to eat his cake, but was too scared to do it in the open.

With another sigh, he followed Nick down the steps into the cabin, wondering why it all had to be so complicated.

* * * *

When they docked in the early afternoon, Nick helped him secure the boat, clean up, and do the routine maintenance.

Nick hadn't said another word about what had happened between them last night, about his own expectation or needs, obviously taking his cue from Rafferty, who'd kept the few brief conversations they'd had centered around the weather and work. And while on one hand Raff had appreciated it, on the other hand, he'd hated every second of it. In truth, questions kept popping into his head about so many things, and he found himself wanting Nick's considerably more experienced feedback on them. He'd found himself wondering if Nick's family knew he was gay—he knew the elder Tuckers were good, church-going folk and that Nick's dad was some kind of bigwig in their church. He wondered what it had been like for Nick when he realized he liked men, and how he'd dealt with it in front of his friends, his parents, his older 94

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sisters, the people at the police precinct where he'd worked in Boston. But he couldn't bring himself to ask. And he didn't know why. And he hated it.

Was he afraid if he talked about it the answers might actually make sense and then he'd have no excuse not to venture down this newly discovered path of his life? Or maybe he thought not talking about it might make it easier to pretend it hadn't happened so they could move on as they had been.

But do I want to go back to the way things were before?

Silently and secretly dreaming and fantasizing about the man, even as I pretended I was perfectly content to be just friends?

No, the little voice deep inside him said. You know what it's like now, and it was good, and you loved it and want more. How can you ever go back?

But how can I go forward?

Those were the questions that weighed on Rafferty's mind, repeating over and over until he wanted to bury his head in the sand somewhere and make it all stop.

When they stood in the parking lot of the dock, between Nick's 4Runner and Rafferty's Mustang, having already loaded their gear into their respective vehicles, a long, silent moment stretched between them as they looked at one another. He sensed Nick wanted to kiss him. And he couldn't deny he wanted to be kissed. But standing in broad, albeit gray daylight, with other people wandering about, Rafferty couldn't work up the nerve. And again hated himself for it.

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"So, I'll see you at work tomorrow then," Nick said, the one finally breaking the strained silence. He seemed to always have a knack for that ... knowing what and when to say something to keep things from becoming too awkward.

Except they were awkward, damn it. And Raff knew it was his fault.

"Yeah. Oh ... wait, no. Shit." He shook his head. "I just remembered, I have to go down to Portland in the morning.

I'll be there through Wednesday for that class Chief Kramer's making me take."

"I'd forgotten about that."

"Me, too. I guess I won't see you until Thursday then."

Nick nodded. He was doing an admirable job of keeping his expression even, but again, he was too open and honest to hide his feelings completely. He was hurting. "Drive safely going down there."

"Yeah, I will. So..." He hesitated a moment longer, knowing it was serving no purpose to continue standing here wanting something he'd already told Nick was off-limits, knowing Nick wasn't going to make a move unless he did first. "Have a good evening and I'll see you later in the week."

He opened the door of his Mustang and started to climb in, and Nick moved around his vehicle to his driver's side door.

But just before Rafferty shut his car door, Nick said, "Raff

... if you need or want to talk the next few days, you can call me anytime."

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his SUV and show him how much he wanted him, needed him. But he didn't. Couldn't.

You're scared shitless.

He wasn't proud to admit it, but he was scared. Terrified.

"Thanks," he told Nick. "I ... I'll remember that."

Nick nodded and pulled open his door.

This time it was Raff who called to him. "Nick?"

"Yeah?"

"I'll call you, okay?"

Something around Nick's eyes softened and the tension eased just a hair. He smiled. "You know how to get hold of me. I'll be here."

His smile went straight to Rafferty's heart, wrapping around it, offering a hint of comfort.

Nick shut his door, started his SUV, and with a wave drove off.

Rafferty started his car, but sat for a moment longer. For that brief moment he'd felt a miniscule amount better, but now, with Nick gone, all the same fears washed over him again, leaving him almost paralyzed.

What the hell was he going to do?

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CHAPTER 7

Thursday morning, when Nick went to work, he was more than a little bit sick to his stomach, not knowing what he might face with Raff.

In spite of his assurance he'd call, Rafferty hadn't called.

Hadn't even tried. Nick knew because he'd kept his cell phone on and with him twenty-four/seven. He'd even been sleeping with it. And what the hell did that say about him? He was almost thirty years old and he was clinging to the damn phone, banking on that promised "I'll call" from his lover, and suffering the inevitable clichéd silence when the call didn't come. It made him feel like a green kid again, and it pissed him off. Not at Rafferty. At himself, for allowing himself to feel so ... well, so young and vulnerable and stupid.

And, okay, maybe he was pissed at Raff, too. Why was the man shutting him out like this?

They'd been friends too damned long for the fact they'd shared a hell of an incredible night together to put them on the outs completely. Raff had made it clear he was confused and uncertain. And Nick had known he might be, had expected it to an extent. So a bit of hesitation and maybe even some weirdness between them would be natural. But he hadn't thought he'd end up feeling so cut off from Rafferty.

Crap, whenever either of them had had to go out of town in the past to various classes or professional development programs, even then they'd usually talked once or twice while the other was gone. Either about a case or some other work-98

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related thing, or just to bullshit to pass time. Long nights in hotel rooms in strange cities sucked and it had always been so easy to pick up the phone and call your best friend and say, "What's up?"

But for the past three days and four nights Nick hadn't heard anything from Raff. Not a word of any kind since they'd parted ways at the dock Sunday afternoon.

Finally, yesterday Nick had bitten the bullet and called him. Several times, in fact, over the course of the day and evening, and had gotten no answer and no voice mail. Either Raff had turned his phone off—something the man seldom did—or he was ignoring Nick. And neither scenario gave him a lot of comfort.

Nick had tried so hard to do everything right. To ask Rafferty the night on the boat if he was really sure he wanted to do what they'd done. To not pressure or push. To back off from the intimacies in order to give Raff time to sort out how he was feeling. To be understanding about his worries—

because Nick really did understand.

But maybe those had been the wrong things to do. Maybe he shouldn't have been so understanding and pliable, so willing to go with the flow. Maybe he should have made a stand about his own feelings and needs. Hadn't that soft-heartedness and amenability gotten him in trouble in the past?

It's all about balance.

Yeah, it was. And clearly he hadn't learned enough of a lesson about that in Boston. There was nothing wrong with being understanding and sympathetic. It had been instilled in 99

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him all his life ... " Be a good Christian, son. Put others needs before your own." It had been so instilled in him, in fact, that once he was away from home, he'd had to learn it was also okay to speak about your own needs and say what you wanted, too.

The trick was to somehow find a balance between the two.

And once again he hadn't done that.

He knew Rafferty was a good man and wouldn't hurt him intentionally. He was the salt of the earth, Raff. And Nick truly empathized with what he was going through. It wasn't exactly like it had been easy for him to go to his parents, devout and conservative churchgoers that they were and his father a respected deacon to boot, and admit, "Mom, Dad, I'm not only having sex before marriage, I'm having it with another man."

He might not have done it, might have chickened out and never told them if a couple of his parents' friends hadn't seen him during a visit to Kansas Weslyan, where Nick had attended his first two years of college. They'd caught him in a steamy clench, kissing his college crush. Big, big no-no.

In the interest of avoiding a major meltdown by his parents finding out second-hand, he'd gone to them himself.

It had been one of the hardest things he'd ever done and had turned his life upside down—ultimately for the better, but it had taken time for him to be able to look back on it and see that. He'd finished out the school year, then with things at home difficult, he'd accepted an invitation from one his understanding older sisters, who was going to grad school in Boston, to come live with her. Once there, and needing funds 100

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to finish school because he'd lost his scholarship when he left Wesleyan, he'd applied to the police academy, and finished his degree at night school while he held down a job.

So he knew and understood the difficulties. But he'd never dreamed—and maybe that had been naïve of him—that Raff would go all silent loner on him.

He just had to hope that maybe when Raff came back to work today they could talk about it and find some sort of middle-ground. Because, damn it, he didn't want to lose his best friend. Yeah, he wanted more. So much more it made his gut ache. He was in love with the man and this was twisting him inside out. But he'd lived the past four years able to see but not touch Rafferty and had survived, so if he had no other choice, he could go back to doing that if necessary—at least he had to believe he could. As long as their friendship was still intact.

But as the day progressed, Rafferty never made an appearance, and Nick began to worry. He tried Raff's cell number and still got no response.

By four o'clock, when Nick had managed to extricate himself from a long, grueling meeting, his worry had become a live thing, gnawing at him something fierce. Had Raff not ever made it back from Portland? Had he gotten tied up there, or had car problems or, God, had something happened to him?

A flicker of fear hit him hard as he remembered that long, long night in the hospital waiting room fifteen months ago when it had been touch and go with Raff's life. His leg hadn't been the only thing damaged in the accident ... he'd had 101

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internal injuries as well, and for several hours, sitting in that godforsaken hospital, not knowing if he was ever going to see his best friend alive again, Nick had realized just how much Rafferty Jones meant to him.

Now, today, once the thought had implanted itself in his mind that something might've happened to Raff, he couldn't shake it. So not knowing what else to do aside from going to Raff's place to see if he might be there, Nick checked in with the captain in case maybe he'd heard anything.

Much to his surprise, the captain had seen Raff come in to work early that morning, and Raff had told him he was going to track down some leads on a case.

Nick's relief Rafferty was okay was profound. But it was quickly followed by a thick dose of hurt. Raff had been in early this morning, then stayed away all day? And, sure, sometimes they did footwork solo if one or the other of them was busy with something else, but never without mentioning it to the other first.

He'd hoped maybe he could write off Rafferty's lack of communication while he was in Portland to an extremely busy schedule or non-existent cell phone coverage or something equally benign. He'd doubted it was those things, but they'd given him a small measure of comfort to fall back on. Now, though, it was clear Raff was avoiding him, and for the first time in their friendship, Nick felt betrayed. It wasn't a feeling he liked much.

He pulled out his cell and hit the speed dial for Raff's cell.

It rang and rang with no answer and still no voice mail.

"Damn it!"

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Frustrated and hurt, he didn't think he could spend another minute sitting at his desk, which adjoined Raff's. He had to get out of here for a while, get some fresh air. Maybe he just needed to get out of here period for the day.

He went outside, but as he was crossing the parking lot to his SUV, he saw Raff's classic blue Mustang pulling into the lot. He paused to watch, wondering if once Raff saw him standing there, he'd circle the lot and pull right back out again.

But Rafferty didn't. He pulled into the empty space next to Nick's 4Runner.

Nick took a deep breath and crossed the last few yards to meet him when he stepped out of his car.

The first thing that struck him was how tired Raff appeared

... like he hadn't been sleeping well. And when Raff looked at him, the combination of the strained lines around his eyes and mouth, and his cautious but emotionally charged gaze, caused a chunk of Nick's anger to drain away. The man looked like hell. Nick hadn't seen him this bad since after the car accident, when for several months he'd been in excruciating pain, but he'd refused to take the pain pills the doctors had given him because he hated the fuzzy, out-of-it way they made him feel.

"Hey," Rafferty said, his voice low and as cautious as his gaze.

"Hey."

"I was out running down some potential witnesses on that butcher shop murder/suicide."

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"I know. Howard told me he'd seen you in early this morning and that you'd gone to check some leads. I was kind of surprised you didn't mention it to me, though."

Nick tried hard to keep his voice non-judgmental, but although he couldn't seem to work up the same angry steam he'd had when he'd come out here a few minutes ago, he was still hurt and suspected he wasn't doing a great job of hiding the fact. Especially when Rafferty winced, then sighed.

"I know. I'm sorry. It's just ... I came in this morning and saw one of the woman's friends had called the station over the weekend and she said it was urgent, so I figured I might as well go ahead and meet with her and get it over with. But then she gave me some good leads, and ... well ... you know how it goes. It took longer than I expected.

Nick couldn't argue with him. Not really. Often these kind of things did turn into day-long ordeals. But there was more going on here than Raff getting tied up with witnesses.

"I tried to call you yesterday. And a couple of times today, too"

Raff suddenly wouldn't meet his gaze. "I know," he said softly.

Nick's eyebrows rose at that and his heart started racing so fast it almost made him lightheaded. "You know? As in, you saw it was me on caller ID and you chose not to answer?"

Rafferty nodded, still not looking at him.

"Geez, you could've at least lied and said your phone was turned off or something," he mumbled, trying to get air into his lungs through the painful vise that squeezed his chest.

"Nick, I'm sorry. I just ... I just couldn't answer."

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"Couldn't? Or wouldn't."

Rafferty dragged in a shaky breath. "Both, I guess."

Something in Nick snapped. Like a rubberband pulled tighter and tighter until it couldn't give under the stress anymore.

"What the hell's going on, Raff? I get that this is hard for you, and that you wanted to back off from the intimate stuff, and I even understand that you had no control over having to go Portland for a few days. But you've shut me out! It's like you've passed judgment on me somehow and without seeing fit to tell me why, you've just slammed the door in my face."

Nick knew he'd raised his voice probably louder than he should, but he couldn't seem to rein it in. All his frustration and that sickening sense of betrayal had boiled to the surface, and for once in his life he didn't give a damn about being a nice guy. What he gave a damn about was the fact he'd always trusted this man more than anyone else he'd ever known, had always believed he could depend on him, and now he couldn't. And it fucking hurt.

Raff's face had blanched white. "Can we not talk about this here?" he said urgently, his gaze darting around the parking lot.

"Apparently, yes, we're going to have to talk about it here, since you won't take my calls and you made a point of staying away from me here at work all day, too, in spite of the fact we're supposed to be partners."

"Nick ... please. This is my home. I've lived here all my life. I have to face these people."

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"So do I, Raff. In case you've forgotten, this is my home now, too. So tell me, what exactly is your plan? Are you going to avoid me from now on, making flimsy excuses for why you couldn't be in the office? Is that how it's going to be? Rather than just talking to me about what's eating at you and letting me help you sort through this? Rather than trusting me like friends are supposed to do?"

"I don't know." Rafferty dragged a shaking hand through his hair. "I don't know ... that's the point. I don't know what the hell to do. I don't know what the hell to think. I'm just ...

You know what ... I can't do this right now."

He turned, yanked open his car door, and slid behind the wheel.

"When can you do it then? Because it's not going to go away. What happened between us, happened, Rafferty. And it was real and good, and you can't run and hide from it. Sooner or later, we're going to have to deal with it. You hear me?"

But Nick was beginning to understand he wasn't going to get an answer.

And he was right. Rafferty shook his head, shut the door, started the engine and drove off.

Nick stared after him, his heart racing at his outburst, wondering how everything had gone so wrong.

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CHAPTER 8

Friday at work proved to be much the same as Thursday, with Rafferty conveniently gone all day running work-related errands, questioning witnesses, and a whole other slew of oh-so-important happenings ... or so Nick was told when he was, once again, forced to check in with the captain to determine Raff's whereabouts.

Howard Garvey had earned the position of captain a couple of years ago and Nick had always found him to be a fair and pleasant guy. A little on the fastidious side and a stickler for having fully-detailed, accurately filled-out case reports on his desk each week—the bane of every cop—but, in general, a decent man. When Nick went to him to see if he knew where Raff was today, Howard had passed along what Raff had told him.

But then Howard cocked a gray-blond eyebrow and peered at Nick through his wire-rimmed glasses. "Something going on with you two? I've been working with you guys for a long time and have never known either of you to come to me to report your daily activities or find out what the other's doing.

Did you have a fight or something?"

For a brief instant Nick contemplated telling him he and Raff had had a disagreement of sorts. But Howard was right

... this was the first time in four years he and Rafferty didn't have each other's backs. And that bothered the hell out of Nick. Bothered him enough he didn't want to share it with anyone. As it was, he was a bit surprised someone hadn't 107

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witnessed their run-in out in the parking lot yesterday. He'd been extremely relieved today not to have heard any gossip or been asked about it.

"Nah," he told Howard. "Raff just got behind while he was gone earlier this week and has a lot of catching up to do.

We've both been busy and keep missing each other." The lie flowed almost too smoothly from his lips.

"Ah, well okay. Glad to hear it. I'd hate to see anything happen to the dream team." He smiled. Then, in his usual efficient and not-so-subtle way, ushered Nick out, with a reminder he needed all reports on his desk by the end of the day.

The dream team. Someone had taken to calling him and Raff that a year or so ago when they'd managed to solve a particularly knotty murder that had stymied everyone else.

God, Raff ... how long are you going to shut me out? How long are we going to do this?

* * * *

After work, Nick was so disconsolate he'd barely been able to dredge up the energy to take his dog for a walk. Mose, usually exuberant and chasing along the beach like a puppy even though he hadn't been one in several years, seemed to have picked up on Nick's mood and was unusually subdued, trotting along next to Nick, occasionally chasing a wave, but not straying far from his master.

When Nick climbed the hill back to his house, Mose ran ahead and was waiting for Nick at the back door.

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"That's a good boy," Nick said, scratching behind the yellow lab's ears. "You're ready for your dinner, aren't you?"

Mose woofed in response and bolted through the door as soon as Nick opened it, crossed the living room, and slid to a stop on the wood floor in the kitchen, looking back expectantly at Nick.

Nick cracked what had probably been his first smile all day. "Yeah, yeah, I'm coming."

He gave Mose his food, opened the refrigerator and stared absently for several seconds, shut it, and in the fading twilight filtering through the windows, crossed to the couch in the living room and sank onto it.

He kicked off his shoes and lay down, then flipped through TV channels with all the energy and enthusiasm with which he'd looked in the fridge. He knew he needed to find something to immerse himself in to help fill the hollow ache inside him, but nothing seemed to draw his interest.

As the room darkened around him, and Mose, finished with his dinner and still smacking his lips, padded in to lay under the coffee table with a soft whumpf, Nick's mind churned with thoughts of Rafferty.

He fell asleep that way.

After a long night of restless tossing and turning, he woke in the morning with a vicious crick in his neck and an ache in heart that just wouldn't go away.

He spent the day Saturday trying to stay busy to keep from thinking. He pulled the screens from the front and back doors and put the winter storm windows in their place. He raked and raked and raked leaves that had fallen from the 109

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oaks and maples scattered across his half-acre lot until his arms ached. He took Mose for another long walk up the beach until they were so far from home and were both so exhausted from scrambling over rocks he was certain he'd sleep dead to the world tonight.

They returned home just a little before sunset, ate dinner, and by dark Nick found himself back in exactly the same position he'd been in the night before—stretched out on the couch, absently channel surfing, with his mind lost in thoughts of Rafferty, wondering what his friend was doing, what he was thinking and feeling, and wishing he could make all this damned hurt go away for both of them.

When his cell phone rang, it startled the hell out of him, causing his pulse to skyrocket. He'd pulled it out of his pants pocket when he first sat on the couch, and it lay on the coffee table. It rang again, and with his heart in his throat he reached for it. Was it Raff? Finally?

But the caller ID said no, and with a sinking disappointment he answered.

"Hi, Mary Jane."

"Hey, Nick!" The bubbly, twice-divorced, free-spirited high school math teacher lived in the house on the large lot next door. "I saw you working out in your yard today, but what are you doing home on a Saturday night. Shouldn't you have a hot date?"

"Yeah, since I have hot dates so often on Saturday nights."

He heard her making a tsking sound. "What the devil's wrong with you, Nicholas Tucker? You've got to get out there, live it up, find yourself a hot stud to bring home to bed."

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He'd long ago told Mary Jane he was gay. He'd had to ...

when he'd first moved in, she'd made it her passion in life to find him a woman. After a few subtle attempts to dissuade her, he'd finally had to tell her he was gay to put an end to it.

So then she'd spent the next several months trying to set him up with men, until after about ten refusals on his part to meet any of the guys she'd picked out, she'd finally backed off. But she'd never given up on him finding someone and, in her own humorous, good-natured way, made a point of working it into conversations whenever possible.

Her diatribe pulled another half-hearted smile from him.

"Mary Jane ... if you put as much energy into your painting as you put into trying to set me up, you'd be rich by now." She was an artist in her spare time and was always trying to sell her seascape oil paintings in local galleries.

Another good-humored tsking noise came over the phone line. "Now, now, no need to get testy. But I'm telling you, lying on your couch flipping through TV channels in the dark—

which is what I bet you're doing right now—isn't going to get you a man."

Nick blinked guiltily at her accurate description of him.

"You should at least be out doing something with your partner. At least that gets you out of the house and maybe to places where you might meet someone. That's never going to happen if you have no social life, Nick."

"Mose keeps me company just fine."

"Yes, but as much as I love that big, slobbering galoot, he's not going to get you a date. And speaking of your 111

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partner ... too bad he's straight. Now there's a hunk of a man if ever I saw one. Mmm, mmm, mmm."

Nick's heart seemed to lodge in his throat at yet another mention of Rafferty.

Damn it, Raff. Why won't you talk to me? We could be so good if you'd only give us a chance.

But to his neighbor he tried his best to hide his angst. "Is that yet another roundabout way of trying to get me to set you up with him? You've been doing this ever since you found out his divorce was final."

Mary Jane chuckled her full-bodied laugh. "Well, a girl's gotta try."

Sorry, Mary Jane, but I can't do it 'cause, you see ... I'm in love with him.

"Is there some other reason you called besides to harangue me about my social life and try to weasel a date with my friend?" he asked lightly, loving Mary Jane to pieces, but feeling the desperate need to get off the phone so he could go back to wallowing in his silent despair alone, without having to listen to her bubble over about how wonderful Raff was and how she'd like to jump his bones, when that's exactly what Nick wanted so badly right now it was a physical ache.

"Oh! Yeah, there is. When I was putting away groceries in the pantry today, I realized I still had Mose's leash here from when he slept over last weekend while you were gone."

"That's okay. I have a spare. That's why I hadn't asked about it."

"You want me to run it by?"

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"Nah, you can just hang onto it if you want and then it'll be there the next time he comes for a 'sleepover.'"

"All right then. Give my boy a big smoochie from his Aunty Mary Jane."

Nick huffed out a soft laugh. "I will."

"Big smoochies to you, too. And, Nick—"

"Don't even start again."

"I was just going to say, have you tried the internet? You know ... for dating?"

"Mary Jane," he growled in warning.

She laughed. "Okay, okay. Zipping my lips now. Have a good night with your TV. And for God's sake, at least turn on a light so you don't go blind from watching in the dark."

Nick rolled his eyes. "Yes, Mother."

"You're such a smartass sometimes. Of course that's probably why I love you." He heard the smile in her voice.

"'Night, Nick."

"'Night."

The forced smile he'd had on his lips faded the moment he pushed the off button on his phone and threw it back onto the coffee table. He'd never even roused himself to a sitting position when he'd been talking to Mary Jane, and he went back to his mindless channel surfing.

But it was truly mindless, and with a sigh, he clicked off the remote, letting the room fall into utter darkness, except for the chilly autumn starlight shining through windows and the nightlight that always burned in the kitchen.

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without imploding, and Nick was afraid the longer it went on, the harder it would be to fix the problem ... fix them.

That night on the boat had been nothing short of amazing.

They way they'd kissed, touched, fit together like they were made for one another. It made him hard all over again just thinking about it. But it hadn't just been the sex. He'd never felt closer to anyone in his life, and had thought Raff felt the same. Had been certain of it, in fact. But obviously that hadn't been enough.

Raff had admitted he'd been thinking about Nick, had wanted him for a while, but that he hadn't thought beyond the sex. So, as much as Nick loved him and wanted so much to have something lasting with Rafferty—not just as work partners and friends, but as lovers and partners in all things—

it was possible that was something Raff had not only never thought about, it was something he simply didn't want.

Maybe the night on the boat had been Raff working out his ya-yas over the whole gay sex thing, but now that he'd done it, he wanted to move on. Or maybe the sex hadn't been everything Raff had hoped it would be.

No. Remember how responsive he was? There's no way to fake that. The sex was everything and more than he'd expected. And remember when he said he hadn't wanted it to end?

That had been sincere. Rafferty's gut-wrenching honesty about it at the time had left Nick speechless.

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had been surprised when he'd admitted he'd been with another man, but recalling their conversation the next day, Nick remembered Rafferty asking if he'd only been with a man once before.

Was that part of what was bothering Rafferty so much?

Maybe he'd thought the sex between them would be "safe"

because it would be only a one-time deal between two straight men who'd had a moment of overwhelming passion, but then they'd be able to slide back into their regular lives with ease because they weren't really "gay," they'd just been exploring. But when he'd found out Nick was actually gay, had only ever, in fact, been with men, that's when Raff had begun to back away. As if Nick's gayness had suddenly put pressure on him in a way that thinking they were straight guys merely exploring fantasies might not have.

Nick scrubbed his hands over his face. He'd just shaved this morning, but already felt a scratchy scruff forming on his cheeks and chin.

"God, could I be any more miserable? I can't do this anymore. We have to talk."

But how?

Maybe the best thing to do would be for Nick to go over to Raff's duplex right now and, assuming the man was there, have it out once and for all. For better or worse.

And if he's not there?

If he wasn't there, then Nick would keep trying until he caught him. Rafferty had to come home sometime.

* * * *

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The drive to Raff's felt like it took forever, although Nick knew intellectually it was the same fifteen minutes as usual.

Whereas he lived on the coast on the northern edge of the bay, Raff lived in a community of duplexes inland.

He was half-expecting not to find Rafferty at home after this week, and was surprised to see him when he drove up.

Each of the duplexes had its own attached garage, and when Nick pulled up and parked in the driveway, it was to see Rafferty in the open garage with the light on, working on his Mustang. He had the hood up and Nick could see him bent over it looking at the engine.

Trying to keep his racing heart steady, he slid out of his 4Runner and approached. "Problems with the 'Stang?"

Rafferty didn't look up right away, which told Nick Raff had seen him coming and he hadn't startled him. "No, just checking the oil and belts."

Nick stood by, not pushing ... yet. But he did silently will Raff to talk to him. He leaned up against the edge of the molding around the garage door with his arms crossed over his chest, hoping he gave off the impression he was here until they sorted this out.

Finally, Rafferty looked up at him. His eyes were shuttered, but Nick could feel the whirlwind of emotions lurking just beneath Raff's surface.

"I was going to come see you tonight."

That news caught Nick by surprise. "You were?"

Raff swallowed hard. "There's something I wanted to tell you."

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The expression on his face caused Nick's heart to stutter.

Rafferty looked like, at some point over the past two days, he'd pulled away even farther from Nick, had made a decision of some kind, and was about to tell him as much.

Oh, God.

"I'm leaving. There's a job opening at the Portland PD. I found out about it this week when I was down there. They've offered it to me and want me to start in two weeks. I'm going to call them Monday and tell them I'm accepting it, and I'll give my notice here at the same time."

The pavement beneath Nick's feet seemed to shift, and he stared at Rafferty, the air leaving his lungs, his chest crushing.

"You're what?" he whispered.

"It's for the best. I ... I'm not ready to move forward with this new aspect to our relationship. I'm not sure I'd ever be able to move forward with it. And at this point I don't think we can go back to what we had before. Too hard. Too much

... stuff between us now."

"I thought last weekend was incredible," Nick said, struggling to get the words out.

Rafferty nodded, slowly. "It was." His voice was hoarse. "It really was. But I've rushed into a relationship before based on an incredible weekend ... and you know how well that turned out. And this is different anyway. This ... between us ... it's different."

"Why? Because we're two men instead of a man and a woman?"

"Yes," he whispered.

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"Because you're not allowed to have sex with and fall in love with a man, is that it?"

A pained grimace slid across Raff's face and he looked for all the world like he either wanted to cry or have the earth open up and swallow him. But, damn it, Nick was beyond censoring his words at this point. He loved this man, and thought his heart was going to fucking choke him it was so far up in his throat.

"I don't know how to do this, Nick. I'm too old to be changing sides. I..."

"You're thirty-fucking-five years old, not a senior citizen.

But even if you were, since when does age have anything to do with love?"

"But is it love?" he asked, lifting his head to meet Nick's gaze. His brown eyes swam with confusion and barely restrained emotion.

"What would you call it? Do you think this was just some quick fuck, a fling based on sex? I've got news for you ... I don't play around. I never have, and nothing that's happened between us has been a fling, Rafferty. You can hide all you want, pretend, deny ... but this thing between us is the real deal. You're just too damned scared and stubborn to open your eyes and see it for what it is."

Rafferty's gaze skittered away again. His hands clutched the hood of the Mustang so hard his knuckles bulged white. "I just can't do this."

"So you're going to throw away a kick-ass partnership on the job and four years of friendship? Not to mention I think you know as well as I do there's something damned special 118

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going on between us here. But you're willing to throw that away, too, without ever giving it a real chance? Do you care that little?"

Rafferty dragged a hand through his hair. His eyes, as his gaze met Nick's again, welled with pain. "I do care, damn it. I do fucking care, all right? Too much. That's ... that's the problem. And I can't deal. I don't know how to deal with it.

I'm not like you, Nick. I haven't had years to come to terms with this. I never felt anything about any man, ever, until you. And then it's like I was slammed with this huge shit storm of sensation and emotion all at once that have tossed me hard and fast from one extreme to the other. I'm ... I'm drowning here. And I just ... can't ... do it. It's too much."

"Then let me help you, Raff. Do you think I haven't been there? I know, I remember how difficult it can be to come out, even to yourself. You don't have to deal with this alone."

"That's the thing ... come out ... I don't know if I ever can or if I'd ever want to. I don't know if I'm like you, Nick. How do I know this isn't just some phase I'm going through? I can't start something with you, risk my career and everything else in my life, only to find out a few weeks or months down the road I've changed my mind and want to be with women after all."

Nick hadn't thought his chest could crush any worse than it already was, and yet it did. "You think I'm a phase?"

"I don't know. I just know I can't live this way, all torn up inside. So it's best for both of us if I leave. Then we can both get on with our lives."

"Jesus, Raff—"

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"I've made up my mind, Nick."

"What about your mom?"

"I'll still see my mom. Portland's not that far away. And if it becomes a problem, I'll move her to a facility closer to me."

"But this is your home. You grew up here. You love it here.

You'd give all that up because you can't face me?"

"I did grow up here, which is probably why it's time for me to go. It's time for me to not be so rooted to this place, to see what else is out in the world."

"Raff ... don't do this." Nick's throat was tight with hot emotion. He felt it stinging in his eyes as well.

"It's time to move on. For both of us." His face was a mask of utter misery that looked exactly like what Nick felt inside.

"I think it's best for you to leave now. I ... I have some things to do inside."

He slammed down the hood of the Mustang and, without looking at Nick again, disappeared through the door into his duplex.

Nick stared at the closed door, struggling to breathe and finding it damn near impossible. And then a longing so intense it doubled him over crashed through him. A longing for what he wanted more than life itself but now knew he was never going to have.

Bent over, hands on his knees, he struggled for air, but only found the wet heat of tears.

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CHAPTER 9

Nick wasn't sure how long he'd stood there in Raff's driveway, bent over, torn apart by the storm of heartache.

Wasn't, in fact, sure how he'd finally gotten in his SUV and driven home. It had all been one big blur of sickening agony for him. He'd somehow managed to get through his front door, find his bed, and collapse on it.

On Sunday, he called in at work and said he'd come down sick and wouldn't be in on Monday and maybe not the next day or two either.

He was sick. It hurt to move, hurt to think, hurt to breathe. And he couldn't be there on Monday when Raff came in to give his notice. Wasn't sure he could be there at the same time as Raff from here on out until he moved to Portland.

Monday he spent the day on the couch in the living room.

But he was beyond even trying to pretend with the TV at this point. It sat dark and silent, as lonely and morose as Nick felt. The only sound to combat the silence all day was the steady fall of cold rain that drummed against the house.

Occasionally Mose would let out a snuffled snore from his spot under the coffee table, reminding Nick something in the house was alive, but mostly he let the silence and the rain fill him.

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couldn't find the energy to care he was sitting in the dark once again either.

By now Rafferty would have told everyone at work he was leaving and he was probably home now, packing boxes that he'd just recently unpacked, getting ready for his move.

The phone rang, but he ignored it. He knew it was Mary Jane again. She'd called yesterday several times, and when he'd finally answered, the first words out of her mouth had been, in a whispered, horrified tone, "Oh, God, who died?"

Nick guessed he must have sounded that bad. He'd told her he was sick, and when she'd immediately switched into caregiver mode, wanting to bring him chicken soup and some herbal concoction she swore by, he'd refused, telling her he was pretty sure he was very contagious.

Another gnawing twinge of hunger hit him. He'd fed Mose earlier, but supposed he was going to have to find something for himself. It hardly seemed worth bothering with, but then, he didn't have anything better to do with his time.

He was just about to rouse himself off the couch when the doorbell rang.

Mose let out a soft woof, but didn't leap to his feet and run for the door as he had when he was younger. Now he was content to stay put unless there was a problem.

Sighing, Nick dragged himself to a sitting position, then to his feet. He was certain it was Mary Jane ... probably tired of him not answering the phone and determined to make him well with or without his cooperation.

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He switched on the table lamp on the end table next to the couch as he passed it, knowing otherwise he'd have to listen to her nag about him sitting in the dark again.

But when he opened the door, his breath stalled in his chest and for a moment it felt as if the world had tilted out from under his sock-clad feet.

For the second time in a week, he found himself unable to speak. All he could do was stare, his heart racing a marathon beneath his breastbone.

Rafferty stood there in the dim circle of yellow light from the porch lamp, looking much the worse for wear, even more tired and beaten down than he had the last two times Nick had seen him.

But when he looked up and met Nick's gaze, an expression of tortured agony on his face, something inside Nick turned upside down.

In that frozen moment, in a soft, ragged voice, Rafferty said, "Can I talk to you?"

His own emotions churning, stunned by the fact Rafferty had actually come to see him, Nick silently held open the door and let him in.

When Nick had shut the door against the damp, blowing chill, he turned to find Rafferty only two feet away, still in the small foyer, his shoulders slumped, staring dully at the floor.

Even with pain radiating off him, he looked sexy and beloved standing there in faded jeans, brown leather hiking boots, untucked blue denim button-down shirt over a white tee, his dark hair damp and stuck to his head. His shirt was damp, too, as if he'd come out without thinking of a jacket. It 123

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almost hurt to look at him because Nick knew he couldn't have him.

Mose had gotten up and when he saw it was Rafferty, one of his favorite people, he padded into the foyer and bumped up against Rafferty's leg, his tail wagging.

"Hey, boy," Rafferty whispered. He scuffed a hand over Mose's head, then scratched behind his ear.

Content, Mose headed back into the living room to his nap, leaving them alone again.

"I'm..." Nick's voice didn't seem to want to work properly, sounding choked and hoarse, like he really had been sick.

"I'm not sure what you need from me," he said cautiously.

"I thought I could walk away, that it would be for the best, but..." Raff's voice broke. "I know I don't have a right to come here after the way I've treated you. I know I've handled this all wrong. I thought I had everything sorted out ... I tried to pretend I did anyway. But I couldn't do it."

"It?"

"I couldn't..." Rafferty drew in a shaky breath "I couldn't give my notice at work today."

Nick's heart seemed to chug to a stop.

"I'd planned to. Had planned to call the Portland PD today, too. Except ... I couldn't. I took a sick day instead and I spent the day driving around, trying..."

He finally looked up at Nick. His brown eyes conveyed a pain that tore at Nick's insides.

"I don't know what to do, Nick. I feel like I'm losing my mind." He rubbed a shaking hand over his face, and when he pulled his hand away, it was damp. So were his eyes.

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Nick desperately wanted to read something into Raff's words, into his heartache, but was scared to. Scared of setting himself up for more hurt. Yet he couldn't stand here and watch Raff in such obvious pain either. He'd learned a long time ago that when Raff hurt, so did he.

"What does your heart say?" Nick asked softly.

"It says I want to be here with you." Raff met his gaze again, and the honesty Nick saw in it stole his breath. "It's been saying that all week. But then all the practical stuff would start running through my mind like a train out of control and I couldn't breathe. I panicked. So I thought I had to leave, that it was the only way, except..."

"Except?"

"Except I can't. And it's not the town or my job here or the fact I grew up here. I can't leave you."

Oh, God.

"I..." Rafferty stared down at the floor, where he scuffed his shoe on the tile. "I lied to you Saturday night. I told you I was afraid you were just a..." He winced.

"A phase," Nick finished for him, his gut knotting at the painful memory.

Raff nodded. "I lied because I couldn't admit the truth."

"What's the truth?"

His brown gaze flickered back up to meet Nick's. "The truth is ... while I was in Portland last week I had a lot of time to think. And I realized something there that scared the shit out of me. I realized that, even though I maybe didn't start openly noticing you in a sexual way until a couple of months 125

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ago, I..." He swallowed hard. "I've been in love with you for much, much longer than that."

Oh, God ... oh, God.

"Raff..."

"No, don't say anything yet. Let me finish before I lose my nerve. When I realized it, that's when I really panicked.

Because it meant what happened between us on the boat wasn't just some passing moment of uncontrolled lust brought on by adrenaline or the need to fulfill a fantasy. It meant it was the culmination of something bigger. A lot bigger. Something that had been building for a long time.

Something I couldn't sweep under the rug and pretend it didn't happen and go back to the life I had before because it meant I haven't been as straight as I thought.

"I remembered how when I was in the hospital after the accident, the first person I wanted, the only person I wanted when I woke up was you. And when I caught Candace with her boyfriend, instead of outrage or betrayal or hurt, the only emotion I ever felt over that whole thing was relief. I never could understand why ... I thought there was something wrong with me that I could care so little what my wife did.

But this past week I finally realized why ... because I was already in love with you back then."

Rafferty shoved a hand through his damp hair. "Realizing all this scared the hell out of me. So I tried to sweep what happened between us on the boat under the rug anyway.

Tried to pretend to myself and to you it was a passing thing. I know I hurt you when I said it might be a phase. And when I 126

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saw the pain I caused you by that one stupid, careless phrase, that's when I knew I was being a selfish ass."

He shook his head, and as if his legs could no longer hold him, he sank to a crouch and buried his face in his hands.

"I'm so sorry, Nick. You were right about everything. I did shut you out. I should have talked to you about all this from the beginning, but I was too scared and too damned selfish, and now I'm afraid I've fucked everything up so badly there's no way to fix it. And the thing is ... I'm still scared. Except one thing I know for sure is that I don't want to lose you. Not as a friend. And not as..." He looked up at Raff, his eyes overflowing with emotion. "And not as whatever else this between us might become. That is ... if you still want me."

His heart in his throat, Nick leaned down, grasped Raff's hands in his and pulled him to his feet and into his arms. "I don't want to lose you either," he whispered. "Jesus, Raff, I'm so in love with you I can't think straight half the time. But I don't want you to hurt. I know this is new and hard for you, and I'll do whatever you need. If you need space and time, I understand. Just, please, don't stop talking to me about it, okay?"

Rafferty leaned back and cradled Nick's face in his hands.

"I don't want space, Nick. I tried that this week. It sucked. I want you."

Nick hardly dared to breathe. "Me, as in..."

"You as in ... please just kiss me."

For the first time in days Nick felt the beginnings of peace flood through his heart.

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And then they were kissing, relearning each other's tastes, rediscovering how perfectly their lips fit together, how easily their tongues met and danced—knowing just when to slide in easy strokes, and when to thrust in faster, bolder, more sensuous ones that left them both moaning and pressing close.

Nick tore his lips free long enough to gasp, "Can I take you to bed?"

"God, yes. And the sooner the better."

The words sent ripples of heat and excitement through Nick. Without wasting a single second longer, he grabbed Raff by the hand and pulled him down the hall to his bedroom.

Rafferty turned on the lamp next to the bed. "No more hiding in the dark," he said, his expression serious. "I want to see and experience everything this time."

Something shifted inside Nick, filling him with both love and desire. "Do you have any idea how sexy you are when get all serious like that?"

A hint of a soft smile teased around Raff's mouth. "No. But I suspect you're about to show me."

"You suspect right." He wrapped a hand around Raff's head and pulled him into another kiss, while at the same time, slid his other hand under Raff's shirt and began pulling at his belt buckle.

"You know what else I'm going to do?" he murmured against Raff's lips as he finished with his belt, unbuttoned and unzipped his pants, then jerked them and Raff's boxers down his thighs, exposing his thick, beautiful, and already hard cock.

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"What?" Rafferty gasped.

Nick untied and tugged off Raff's boots, then pulled his jeans off the rest of the way and threw them aside. He slid his body slowly up Raff's, until they were thigh to thigh, groin to groin, and chest to chest. He cupped Raff's ass and pulled the man closer, settling his bare cock against Nick's jean-covered one and grinding them together until Raff's breathing came out in soft huffs.

"Remember last time, I told you I was going to make you feel good in ways you'd never felt good before?"

"Yes," Raff moaned.

"Well, that was only the beginning." Nick slid his tongue between Raff's lips, twining it around Raff's, sucking on it until Raff bucked against him. "There's so much more."

He set to work unbuttoning Rafferty's shirt. " So much more. I'm going to touch you in ways and places you've only ever imagined, and you're going to love every second of it, and by morning..." He pushed Raff's shirt off, then pulled the tee he had on under it up and over his head as well, leaving Rafferty nude and fully exposed to his hungry, appreciative gaze. "By morning, you're going to be so utterly sated you're not going to ever want to leave this bed. And then you know what you're going to do?"

"What?" Raff rasped, his eyes glazed over with lust.

Nick yanked off his own sweatshirt and slid out of his jeans and briefs.

"You're going to pick up the phone, call work, and tell them you're still sick and you're taking another day off."

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Raff swallowed hard. His gaze dropped to Nick's groin where his shaft stood full and eager. "Yeah ... I'm pretty sure you're right about that."

"I know I'm right." Nick reached down and captured Raff's cock in his hand, smiling when Raff moaned in appreciation.

"And then you know what's going to happen?"

"Yeah, we're going to stay in bed all day."

"Yes, we are."

"Oh, God ... for Christ's sake, don't keep me in suspense.

Show me."

Their mouths met in earnest, in hungry demand.

Without breaking the kiss, Nick pulled back the sheet and down comforter on his bed and pushed Raff backward until the edge of the bed bumped the back of Raff's knees and he sat down.

Nick pulled his lips free and sank to knees on the floor between Raff's legs. He heard Raff suck in a breath as he lowered his face to the hard shaft standing at attention amidst the dark curls and ran his tongue over the head. Then he blew a puff of air over the shiny wetness, and Raff's breath turned into a groan.

"You have the most beautiful cock I've ever seen." Not that he'd seen a ton up close and personal, but he wasn't lying. Raff's penis was the like the stuff of porn fantasies ...

long, thick, with a large head that sent shivers through Nick because he could just imagine how it would feel pressing against his ass, pushing past his tight ring, stretching and filling him. It was big enough he knew it would burn when that big crown went in, but, oh, the burn would be worth it.

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Oh, God ... so worth it. He shuddered and his balls ached just thinking about it.

"Have you thought about, fantasized about, fucking me?"

he asked Raff, looking up at him. "Or having me fuck you?"

Raff's breath caught, and Nick knew he'd just surprised him by the direct questions. But at the same time, Rafferty's nostrils flared and his cock, only inches from Nick's face, gave a hard twitch.

"Yes." Raff's voice was little more than a hoarse whisper.

"Both."

Nick swirled his tongue over and around Raff's cockhead, then around the ridge, pausing to lavish special attention on the bundle of nerves on the underside. Raff's fingers slid into his hair, stroking his scalp, and each time Nick's tongue hit a particular sensitive spot, Raff would moan softly.

Raff's needy little noises, and his warm, aroused scent curled around Nick, only making him hornier, making him want this man more and more, when he'd honestly thought he couldn't possibly want him more than he already did. He gripped the base of Raff's prick and guided it into his mouth.

The moment he closed his lips around it, Raff's hips jerked on the bed, and the little moans became big ones. Nick hollowed his cheeks and sucked Raff in deeper, deeper, loving the taste of him, the sleek hardness on his tongue, filling his throat.

"Nick..." Raff groaned. "Oh, God." His fingers tightened on Nick's head. His hips began to buck.

But then suddenly he stopped and pushed Nick back.

"Wait."

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Nick did, and stared up at him, his heart pounding, wondering if Raff had ... No. He didn't believe Raff would change his mind about wanting to be with him. It was something else.

"What is it?"

"Can I ... Would you..."

"Just tell me, Raff. Don't ever hesitate to say what you want and need."

Rafferty's breathing was ragged and his voice sounded much the same. But his eyes, like dark amber, swirled with such intense desire it nearly stole Nick's breath. "I want to fuck you. I want to be inside you when I come. Is that okay?"

The words seared through Nick like a forest fire out of control. His cock leapt, his balls ached, and the muscles in his ass tightened in anticipation.

He rose, slid open the drawer in the bedside table, and pulled out a condom and a bottle of lube. Then he turned to Raff, knowing his lust was probably written all over his face.

"How do you want me?"

A new, even more powerful passion flared in Raff's eyes.

He reached out and wrapped a hand around Nick's cock, giving it an excruciatingly slow stroke that almost had Nick coming from only it and the look on Raff's face. "On your back. I want to be able to see you."

Feeling like his every nerve ending was a live wire, Nick crawled onto the bed and lay on his back.

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filled him with a sense of completion he'd never before experienced.

He moved his feet up on the bed so his knees were raised and his legs were spread in invitation. "Come here," he whispered.

Rafferty didn't hesitate. He knelt between Nick's legs, then leaned down and covered Nick's mouth with his in a slow, intimate kiss that only served to fan the flames between them higher and higher, until Nick thought they might combust.

And then he heard the snick of the bottle opening, felt the cool probing of a finger against his anus, pushing gently inward. He couldn't have stopped his body's natural reaction if he wanted ... he was too keyed up, too needy. He lifted his legs, pulling them back toward his chest, giving Rafferty easier access, and Raff took it, swirling the one finger inside him, then easing a second in to join it.

Nick panted, his body heavy and hungry for more, and acutely aware the lover touching him so intimately was Rafferty, his best friend, the man he'd loved for so long and thought he'd never have.

Raff moved his fingers in an ever-deepening circle inside him, intentionally stretching him, but also, intentionally or not, brushing over Nick's prostate, sending jolts of super-charged electricity straight through Nick's cock.

"I just want to make it easier for you," Rafferty said, his voice low and raspy with desire, yet filled with an emotion Nick had never hoped to hear from him. "I'm afraid I might be big and I don't want to hurt you."

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"Trust me when I tell you you're not going to hurt me,"

Nick gasped, barely able to form words. "Jesus, Raff ... unhh

... God, I want you in me. Please ... please."

Raff's gaze singed the hairs on his head it was so damned hot. "In a minute..."

Holy, crap. He knows exactly what he's doing to me and he's enjoying it.

That realization only brought Nick to a new pinnacle of need. He'd never seen this side of Rafferty before, never known the down-to-earth practical man had a such a fucking, sexy, seductive side lurking beneath his surface.

"You ... are a tease," Nick gasped.

"But it feels good, doesn't it?"

"I need you ... to fuck me ... right now! God, please!"

Raff's smile did things to him he couldn't even describe.

His fingers slid free and Nick watched him generously lube his sheathed cock, then felt him ease more lube up inside his passage. Even the smallest touches down there now had Nick shaking.

Then Raff was pressing the big, bulbous head of his cock against Nick, gently at first, but as Nick began to shudder and beg for "More, please, more," Raff seemed to gain confidence and realize he wasn't going to break Nick.

As Nick had known it would be, the burning pressure made his ass ache. But he'd never wanted anything more, had never craved anyone or anything as much as he craved having Rafferty buried inside him.

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he pushed the rest of the way in until his balls, hot and heavy, nestled against Nick's ass and Nick was impaled on him.

Both of them groaned and shuddered, not moving, just getting used to being part of one another.

"I never knew, Nick ... It's so good. So"—he moved just slightly, and they both gasped—"damned good."

The pleasure for Nick was intense ... almost too intense for words. But when Raff moved again, pulling out a small way, then sliding back in, and again, and again, the nerve endings in Nick's ass began to tingle. And that tingle created a warm buzz deep in his balls.

Rafferty found Nick's shaft and began to pump it in rhythm with their fucking. And next thing Nick knew, he was groaning and panting, meeting every thrust of Raff's with one of his own, until they rocked together in a hazy bliss of building ecstasy.

"Don't ever let me pull any bullshit again like I did this week. I need you too much, Nick."

Touched to his core at Raff's words, Nick pulled him down into a kiss. "I need you, too. I missed you this week."

"I missed you, too. Hated every second I was away from you. Want ... this. Want you ... every night ... God! I'm going to come now."

"So am I."

Rafferty pushed into him so deeply Nick cried out from the intensity of it, and then Nick was exploding, thick pulses of milk bursting from his cock, slicking his stomach and Raff's hand.

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At the same time, Rafferty pumped hard a few more times, then with a uncensored groan, poured his own release deep inside Nick.

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CHAPTER 10

"Have I told you how damned much I love you?" Nick said.

"Yeah, but tell me again anyway. I don't think I'm ever going to get tired of it." Raff knew he wasn't ever going to get tired of it.

"I love you, Rafferty Jones. Every inch of your practical Maine ass, and I don't ever want to live without you again."

Rafferty gazed down at him, his chest so full of emotion he thought it might burst. "I love you, too. God, Nick, I'm sorry it took me so long to realize it. All that wasted time..."

"It wasn't wasted. Maybe neither of us was ready until now. Maybe we had to go through the other stuff we've each been through—you and your marriage and divorce to Candace, and me with the crap in Boston, to appreciate what we could have with each other."

Raff rose from the bed and tossed the condom, then lay back down next to Nick, twining his legs with Nick's and resting his head on one hand.

Seeing Nick so relaxed and sated and smiling at him ...

there was a comfort here with Nick that he'd never felt with anyone else, lover or otherwise, in his life. He still wasn't sure how he'd managed to get so lucky, but he wasn't going to take it for granted ever again.

"Can I ask you a question?" he said.

"Anything."

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dying to take a job in Maine ... more like you wanted out of Boston. But then a couple of times this past week, you've hinted it had something to do with a relationship. And now you've mentioned it again. Did something bad happen there?"

Nick sighed. "Not bad exactly—well, some parts of it were truly bad—but mostly it was eye-opening."

"You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to."

"It's okay. I don't mind. I don't want any secrets between us. And, yes, it was about a relationship. After I'd been in Boston for a while, I met a guy at the library when I was studying one night. And I know, don't say anything ... how cute, a guy at the library."

Raff smiled. "I wasn't going to say that."

Nick smiled, too. "Well, in truth, he was cute. He was a couple of years younger than I was. His parents were wealthy, old-school Bostonians. He'd gone to a private boys prep school, was in his second year at Harvard, and his name was Jason. We started seeing each other, but he was completely not out to his family, his friends, no one. So it was the big hush. Which bothered me. It wasn't that I made a big deal about walking around with a sign on my chest saying

'I'm gay.' I wasn't, actually, out at work even.

"Still, I think what bothered me was that Jason would never really let me in, he'd never let me get close. It's like I was always second fiddle after his classes, his friends, his family. I understood ... but I wanted to know I was important, too. I didn't say anything, though ... just went along because it made him happy."

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Nick looked troubled, and Rafferty was beginning to get a clearer picture of why his actions this past week had hurt Nick so much.

He leaned close and kissed Nick. "I'm sorry."

Nick's eyebrows drew together. "For what?"

"That I tried to pull the same crap on you this week."

Nick caressed his cheek. "You didn't know about my relationship with Jason, and it was different anyway. Don't sweat it."

But Rafferty did. He'd been thinking of his own needs this past week and not how they might be affecting Nick. Not until he'd seen that awful look on Nick's face when he'd said he thought maybe Nick was a passing phase. Nick's pain had been like a concrete beam upside the head.

"Hey, I mean it." Nick was looking at him expectantly.

Raff sighed. "I know you do. So tell me more about Jason and what happened."

"Well, I shared a place with my sister Jeannie, and she was totally cool about my being gay—that's why went to Boston in the first place, because she gave me an 'out' to get away from home when my parents pretty much freaked to discover their baby boy was sleeping with another boy. So Jason would come over there sometimes, or we'd meet places, or, he shared an apartment with a couple of roommates, so if he was certain they weren't going to be there, we'd go there. But he was really scared of being found out, so we were always careful.

"Apparently, though, one night a couple of guys he'd gone to prep school with saw Jason kissing me on the street. We 139

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didn't know we'd been seen, but a couple of nights later I went to Jason's apartment because that's where we'd arranged to meet, and I found him horribly beaten."

"Oh, shit. The 'friends' because he was gay?"

"Yeah. I took him to the hospital and he told me it had been the two guys, but he refused to press charges, refused to bring the police into it period. Which was hard for me, being a cop. I was furious and wanted them brought to justice. But he absolutely refused because it would mean people finding out he was gay. I tried to explain to him that these guys obviously already knew and would begin spreading it around, so it wouldn't be long until others knew anyway.

And, by not saying anything, he was condoning their behavior and nothing would stop them from doing it again, to him or someone else. But, no, he wouldn't budge."

"Please tell me it didn't happen again..."

"A couple of months later I was walking Mose one night after dark and just, out of sheer dumb luck, happened upon them attacking him again in a back alley near his apartment.

They recognized me as being the one they'd seen with Jason before, but didn't know who I was, didn't know I was a cop. I called for back-up, intervened, and by the time the patrol car showed up, I had the two assholes restrained on the ground."

"That was risky—they could have beaten the shit out of you, too, Nick. And you were in civvies walking your dog ...

what did you use to restrain them?"

Nick gave him a faint smile. "Mose's leash."

A warm thrum of pride filled Rafferty. Damn, Nick was good. But he'd always known that.

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"So what happened?"

Nick's smile faded. "The officer who showed up was a real conservative hard-liner. I knew the minute he drove up it wasn't going to go well because that's just the kind of guy this was. But, you know, you still have to believe in the system and believe in a colleague's honesty, right? In a perfect world anyway." He gave a bitter laugh. "I told this cop everything I'd witnessed, and, against Jason's will, also told him this wasn't the first time the two assholes had done this.

But it turned out this cop was as homophobic as the kids were. So, even though the kids were taken in for questioning, nothing ever came of it. They were released almost immediately with no charges against them."

"What?"

Nick nodded. "After, I guess, seeing how concerned I was over Jason and the situation, the other cop wrote up the report saying Jason and I were lovers, we'd taunted and then instigated the encounter with the other young men, and the other young men had only been 'defending' themselves. He said the kids weren't interested in filing charges against us, so there was no case."

"The hell he did. That bastard! Abusing the system for his own personal agenda."

"Oh, it gets better. He also indicated he felt my presence on the police force should come under review because I was a trouble-maker and had started the fight with the 'respectable young men.'"

"What did you do? You fought it, didn't you?"

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"Of course I did. I was pissed. I went straight to the top, told my version of the story—the true version—and said the other officer had lied. There was an investigation. Jason was ordered to come in for questioning. In the end, the two punks were brought in and charged. The other cop was given an early retirement because it turned out he'd been under fire before for abusing his position—but before he left, he made sure everyone in the entire precinct knew I was gay and implied I was a rabble-rouser. And Jason broke up with me for outing him and causing him to be alienated from his family."

"Jesus, Nick, I'm so sorry all that happened."

Nick shrugged. "Yeah, me, too. But like I said, it was good lessons learned."

"That's what you meant when you said you wanted people to appreciate you for the job you did rather than who you were doing. They talked about you, even though you were cleared, didn't they?"

"Of course they did. You know how that goes. I did have several friends on the force who stood by me and never let the crap faze them, who didn't care I was gay, including the captain of my division. I had a spotless record during the years I was there. But generally speaking, because of the rumors and the things the other cop had said, it wasn't a great working environment after that. So when I found out there was a job opening up here, I took it."

"Nick..." Rafferty paused, not sure how to voice what he wanted to say, but needing to say it because he didn't want Nick to suffer any more crap like he had in Boston.

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"Just say it. Don't ever worry about whether or not you should be honest with me, okay? You can talk to me about anything."

Rafferty sighed. "Okay. Here goes ... I can't promise I'm going to do everything right. I'd be lying if I said I wasn't still scared shitless about facing people or having people know about us. But one very hard thing I learned this past week is that I'm miserable without you. And when I was faced with having to make a choice between my fears and you ... well, in the end, there was no choice. Look where I am right now."

"In my bed, where just fifteen minutes ago you were buried balls-deep inside me." Nick's hazel eyes sparkled with mischief.

"Yeah. And that's where I want to stay."

The mischief danced away and Nick looked at him all seriousness, his heart in his eyes. "It's where I want you to stay, too." He pulled Rafferty into a kiss. "We'll work through the rest of it together, Raff. There's no timetable for how it works. No requirement that you have to make a public announcement saying you're choosing to live your life in a relationship with a man."

Rafferty smiled sheepishly.

"What?" Nick looked at him curiously.

"Want to hear the real irony?"

"Lay it on me."

"I'm scared to have people find out, yet I have this uncontrollable urge to stand out on your deck right now and shout to the world, 'I love this man and I can't believe it took me so damn long to figure it out and I plan on spending the 143

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next fifty or sixty or hundred years fucking him senseless to be sure he never forgets how important he is to me!'"

A chuckle built in Nick's chest. "You planning to go out there buck naked?" He ran a hand down Raff's chest, then lightly grazed it over his semi-erect cock and balls.

Rafferty grunted in appareciation. "Why? You want to watch me feeze my ass?"

"No," Nick said, leaning close. "I was thinking of doing other things to your ass ... things that would heat you up on a cold, wet fall night."

"Things?" Raff rasped, feeling his semi-erection growing into something a bit more than that.

"Mm-hmm."

Nick was still fluttering his fingers over Raff's genitals, but now he was also running his tongue along the curve of Raff's ear, and for God's sake, how had he never realized just how sexy and seductive that could be? "Like ... the 'things' you did to it on the boat?" he whispered.

"You liked that, didn't you?" Nick words and warm breath against his ear sent shivers that were anything but cold through Rafferty. "You liked feeling my tongue against your hole, in your hole."

"Jesus, Nick..."

"Say it."

Rafferty could still remember in detail how it had felt, how it had sent a hot, swirling liquid heat through his body, how it had been the most erotic sensation he'd ever experienced. He shuddered.

"Say it..." Nick coaxed.

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"Yes ... God, yes ... I liked it. Loved it."

"Rafferty Jones?"

There he went with the tongue again, this time dipping it into Raff's ear.

" Unnh! Yeah?"

"This is your lucky night."

* * * *

Rafferty stole awake and tried to stretch, but he realized he couldn't. He was pinned to the bed. By something hot but not unpleasant. It was very pleasant, in fact. And ...

breathing.

He opened his eyes to the sight of Nick lying half-atop him, his head resting on Raff's chest, an arm across his waist, and a hard, muscular thigh curled over his own legs.

A rush of warmth spread through him and he savored the moment.

Last night had been ... God, it had been amazing. But he realized there was something just as satisfying in a different way about waking up in the peace of a new day to find the man he'd made love with all night asleep in bed with him this morning.

He and Nick. Two months ago, hell two weeks ago, he wouldn't have believed it. And yet, it had been there all the time.

Ding!

Woof!

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usual one-bark doorbell announcement from his bed in the living room. But then he looked at his watch and saw it just a little after seven in the morning. Who'd be at the door this early? Maybe Nick's paperman rang the doorbell when he left the morning paper. Where Nick lived out here, just beyond the outskirts of town in a more rural area, it was possible.

When Raff was growing up he remembered their paperman and their mailman had rung the bell, just to give them a head's up they'd been there.

Yeah, that was probably it.

The doorbell hadn't fazed Nick. The man was dead to the world when he slept. Rafferty remembered Nick hadn't awakened on the boat that morning the Coast Guard volunteer had been using the bullhorn either.

He chuckled and shook Nick gently. "Hey, Nick ... Wake up."

Nick stretched and yawned, then looked up at Rafferty with an open, sexy smile that made Rafferty's heart squeeze.

Nick leaned up and kissed him. "G'morning, gorgeous."

Raff smiled. "Starting with the flattery first thing in the morning?"

"It's not flattery, stubborn man. It's a fact. Get used to it because you're going to be hearing it a lot."

Another ripple of contented heat spread through Raff, and this time he instigated the kiss.

But when the doorbell rang again, followed by another Mose bark, he jerked away out of instinct. "Does your paper guy ring the bell when he leaves the paper? If so, he's being awfully insistent. This is the second time its rung."

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"No, the paper comes around five." Then Nick groaned, rolled off Rafferty and onto his back, and ran a hand through his short, spiky hair. "Mary Jane."

"Mary Jane your neighbor?"

"Yes. I bet that's who it is. She's been pestering me since Sunday. I told her I was sick, so she's been wanting to come over and bring me get-well food."

Rafferty's heart had begun to race again. He tried to breathe and stay calm, but it wasn't working. "Will she go away if you don't answer?"

"Doubtful. I've been putting her off for two days. I suspect she'd stand out there and ring all day just to make a point."

He chuckled and sat up on the side of the bed. "I love her, but I have to say her timing sucks. I'd better go see what she wants."

"Will ... will she be coming in?"

Nick leaned over, found his jeans, and dragged them on.

"Probably. Knowing her she won't give me any choice and she'll push her way in." Then he paused and turned back around to look at Raff, his eyes shimmering in understanding as if he'd just realized what Rafferty was thinking. "It's okay, Raff. You don't have to even leave the bedroom if you're not comfortable. But for what it's worth, Mary Jane knows I'm gay. She's known for ages."

A tiny twinge of hurt welled in Rafferty's gut. "You told your neighbor but you didn't tell me?"

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Mary Jane..." He rolled his eyes. "...I had no choice. When I first moved here, she was trying to set me up with women all the time. I had to tell her in order to put a stop to Mary Jane's Well-Meaning Matchmaking Service." Nick grinned.

And Rafferty had to, also. He'd met the woman a few times and knew she was full of piss and vinegar. He could just see her on a whirlwind spree of trying to find Nick a woman.

Ding! Ding! Ding!

"She's getting impatient. Let me go get the door. And, seriously, no pressure, okay? We'll go as slow and easy on the public appearances as you want. I'm totally fine with it if you want to stay here in bed." He grinned again, but this one was salacious. "In fact, I kind of like the idea of knowing you'll be waiting naked in bed for me once I send her on her way."

With another quick but no less promising kiss, Nick left the room, making sure to pull the door closed behind him.

Rafferty sat up, hating this feeling of having to hide. He suddenly understood why it had bothered Nick so much that his boyfriend in Boston had wanted to keep everything about their relationship a secret. Had Nick been forced to hide behind closed doors like this to keep anyone from finding out?

Except ... Rafferty wasn't being forced to stay in here. He'd put himself in this position by choice. And, damn it, he could take himself out of it by choice, too.

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was gay. So that only left Rafferty out of the picture, unless he decided to put himself back in it.

Knowing he had to start somewhere cracking that damned closet door open, he slid off the bed, found his own jeans in a wad on the floor and pulled them on without bothering with underwear. If he had his way, as soon as the neighbor was gone, he and Nick would be clothesless in about two seconds anyway.

Then, taking a deep breath and acting before he could back out, he turned the door knob, pulled the door open, and walked through it.

He found Nick and Mary Jane in the kitchen.

Nick's back was to Rafferty, giving him a mind-boggling view of bare skin to the waist, and the tight sensuous hug of blue jeans over his butt and legs. Raff dragged in a breath to fight the instant lust the sight produced.

He turned his focus to Mary Jane, who faced him. She wore some kind of flowery brown skirt and a heavy wool cardigan, had her dark-red hair pulled up into a loose knot on her head, with about half the hair already spilling out, and held a grocery bag and a newspaper—probably Nick's she'd brought in from the porch. Mose was rubbing against her legs, thwacking his tail. And a large silver pot sat next to her on the counter.

From the sound of it, she was good-naturedly reaming Nick a new one.

"I call and call and you don't answer the phone, then when you do, you won't let me come over and take care of you, but I see Rafferty's Mustang outside—"

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Oh, crap. Rafferty hadn't thought about the fact his car was in plain sight in Nick's driveway. There would have been no hiding even if he'd wanted to.

"—which means you'll obviously let your partner come see y—Oh!" Mary Jane's mouth had opened in surprise when she spotted Rafferty. She stared at him over Nick's shoulder.

Nick turned. For a split second he wore the same surprised look as Mary Jane and then a smile bloomed on his face, and his eyes filled with a dizzying warm light that Raff was pretty sure could heat him up on the coldest day of the year.

"Hi," Rafferty said, looking at Nick, but addressing them both.

"Hi." Had that word that was really a soft low rumble of open desire come from Nick?

Then Raff realized how he probably looked right now.

Exactly the way he'd been afraid Nick would look that morning on the boat when the Coast Guard had shown up ...

barely dressed, hair rumpled with sleep, looking like he'd just had fabulous sex all night. And— oh, shit—he just remembered self-consciously about the love-bites Nick had left on his chest. Not to mention from the obviously now-open doorway in the hallway behind him, he'd just come out of Nick's bedroom.

The moment was broken when Mary Jane grinned, then her gaze slid back to Nick and she walloped him on the shoulder with the newspaper she was holding. "You big sneak! All these years you told me Rafferty was straight!"

"Well, I kinda was," Raff supplied, but she was on a roll and he wasn't even sure if she heard him.

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"And this is why you wouldn't give me his phone number!

Because you were already taking his sexy ass to bed!"

"Um ... phone number?" Rafferty asked.

Nick grinned.

So did Mary Jane, but she did it with a loud, dramatic

"Hrumph!"

"Excuse me ... phone number?" Raff prompted.

"Mary Jane's had the hots for you for ages. She's been driving me nuts the past couple of months since your divorce was final, wanting me to set you two up."

"Except you were already—"

"Yeah, yeah," Nick interjected, giving Mary Jane another grin. "I was already taking his sexy ass to bed."

Rafferty felt a flush of heat slide up his cheeks. Damn, he hadn't blushed since he was a kid.

"Well!" Mary Jane said, putting her hands on her well-endowed hips and eyeballing them both with a twinkle in the blue orbs that could have brightened any room. "See if I waste my time slaving over the stove to make you chicken soup again because you're 'sick.'" She tsked-tsked. "Sick, my ass. You bad boys ... you're playing hooky from work this week, aren't you? So you can have delicious romps in bed."

Rafferty's blush deepened. His cheeks felt like they were on fire now.

Nick was chortling.

But then Raff realized the oddest thing ... for all that Mary Jane's naughty teasing was making him blush, he didn't feel the least bit uncomfortable standing here in the kitchen, half-dressed, with Nick shooting him steamy looks, and someone 151

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seeing it and knowing they'd just spent the night together. In fact, it felt surprisingly comfortable. It felt right.

Without planning it or thinking it through, his feet carried him the few steps across the room to Nick. He buried his fingers in Nick's hair and tugged Nick into a kiss. Not a sweet, in-front-of-company peck ... a kiss. He felt Nick's shock for all of one second, and then one of Nick's arms was wrapping around Raff's waist while his other hand came up to cup the back of Raff's head and pull him closer still.

"Holy balls of fire. I'm going to have to go home and take a cold shower before I can go teach," he vaguely heard Mary Jane say in a breathy voice.

She might have said something else, too ... something about "Why were all the sexy, smart ones gay?" and putting the soup in the fridge and letting herself out.

But Rafferty hardly heard any of it. His senses swirled with Nick's taste, the feel of his hands, his lips, his hard, warm body, and his spicy-clean scent blended with raw, masculine arousal.

Sharing life with this man, standing at his side through the highs and lows, lying next him every night and waking up in his arms every morning, was what he'd been craving for longer than he'd ever realized. And for the first time, Rafferty felt complete.

He knew he still had steps to take, knew he'd just started this journey, but whatever the future held, he knew he and Nick would weather it together.

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M. L. Rhodes

Award-winning and bestselling author M. L. Rhodes has been writing for a living for over twelve years. Along with the erotic man-love fiction she currently pens for Amber Quill Press, she's also had published everything from magazine articles, to steamy romantic suspense novels, to straight erotic romance. In her fiction works, her characterization and emotional storytelling have received high critical acclaim from such places as Romantic Times Magazine, The Romance Studio, and JERR and have garnered her numerous awards in the writing industry.

In her M/M stories, she enjoys pairing together strong, independent heroes who are open to exploring both their sexuality and their emotions. Men fall in love with one another every day, and M. L. believes in celebrating that!

If you'd like to keep up with what's going on in M. L.'s world and find out about her new and upcoming releases, surf on over to her web site at www.mlrhodeswriting.com. She also loves hearing from readers. You can reach her at ML@mlrhodeswriting.com.

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Just Erotic Romance Reviews Gold Star Award!

As the leader of an elite British group that hunts criminals of the magic world, Christian Wetherly comes to the U. S.

undercover, posing as a British cop, to investigate a series of murders he suspects have been committed by a dark mage.

He never expects, however, to find himself intensely attracted to the American police detective in charge of the case.

Christian has long struggled with his hidden desires and hasn't admitted them to anyone. But Alec Anderson stirs something deep within him that's difficult to ignore.

Still ... even if he could master his fear of coming out, Christian's dedicated himself to protecting the world from magic terrors. It's a dangerous life an ordinary human could never understand or accept. And to complicate matters, Alec's emotionally vulnerable, still grieving the death of his previous lover, a fellow cop killed in the line of duty. So Christian's determined to keep his true occupation and powers hidden from Alec.

Neither man can deny the powerful chemistry that burns between them, and both realize they're falling hard for one another, yet with so many secrets and complications, a relationship seems impossible.

When the two men become the target of the dark magic, however, and clues about an ancient legacy come to light that indicate Alec may not be exactly what he seems, can they 154

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find the strength to tear down all the barriers between them and risk their hearts in order to save each other's lives?

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Can one woman find true love in tea leaves? Or is it a tempest in a teacup?

Bryn Tuttle lost everything due to her bad taste in men.

Now she's starting over fresh. In the misty bluegrass hills of Kentucky, she finds a new job, apartment and friends. When a co-worker invites her yard-sale shopping one weekend, she decides to tag along, never realizing fate has something else in store.

They discover a rare item—a mysterious, antique, fortune-telling teacup. Bryn never suspects that a single sip from the Cup of Fate will change her life, that her future is actually linked to the tea leaves that cling inside. But when she drinks from the cup and next awakens, she soon comprehends that nothing will ever be the same...

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Boarding a westbound stage in San Antonio, US Marshal Slade Thomas realizes all three female passengers resemble the wanted poster for a bank robber. The audacious and playful behavior of one passenger, Jessimay "Jazzy" Morgan, especially draws his attention—and suspicions.

Jazzy, a former prostitute, is intent on a respectable future built on the money she earned in Miss Veronica's Pleasure Emporium. Polite society is more taxing than she imagines, however, and a flirtation with the handsome stranger on the stagecoach flares into a rousing night of passion in which she loses a little bit of her heart.

The following day, when the stagecoach is robbed and the women kidnapped, Jazzy is crushed at leaving a beaten Slade behind. Planning an escape against huge odds is tough, but confessing her past to a respectable man like Slade is almost impossible. And Slade must also make a decision that could change his life—capturing the bandits, or saving Jazzy ... a choice between his duty and his heart.

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158

Table of Contents

CHAPTER 1

CHAPTER 2

CHAPTER 3

CHAPTER 4

CHAPTER 5

CHAPTER 6

CHAPTER 7

CHAPTER 8

CHAPTER 9

CHAPTER 10