Summary:
Opposites attract on an accidental roadtrip in this geektastic series starter from bestselling author Annabeth Albert.
Adrian Gottlieb is winning at life. He's a successful video game designer with everything a man could ask for, including a warm comfy ride to Denver and a date for his sister's wedding. But he finds himself in need of a total reboot when he's left stranded at a snowy campground in Utah. Holiday plans? Epic fail.
That is until Noah Walters offers him shelter for the night and a reluctant cross-country ride. Nothing about the ultraconservative geoarchaeologist should attract Adrian, but once he discovers Noah's hidden love for video games, the two connect on a new level. Soon, a quiet but undeniable chemistry sparks.
Something doesn't add up, though. As the miles accumulate and time runs out, Noah must face the most difficult choice of his life. Meanwhile, Adrian must decide whether he's ready to level up. Is their relationship status worth fighting for, or has this game ended before it's even begun?
Summary:
Opposites attract for two workplace rivals in this forced proximity romance from bestselling author Annabeth Albert
Player vs. Player. Fight!
Brilliant graphic designer Ravi Tandel is ahead of the game—he’s just been asked to present a top secret project at a huge conference in Seattle. All systems are go...until he learns his buttoned-up office nemesis is coming along for the ride.
Tristan Jones isn’t really the gamer type, but he knows the back end of the video game business inside out. Together, he and Ravi will give an awesome presentation. If they survive the cross-country trip first.
Tossed together in close quarters, Ravi’s shocked to see Tristan’s sexy, softer side emerge from such a conservative shell. He’s less shocked to learn his handsome colleague’s prominent family would never support an out-and-proud son. But Ravi didn’t struggle through his own coming out to hide who he is now. To be together, Tristan will have to push past his fear and ultimately decide: Does he want a future with Ravi? Or is it game over before they’ve even begun?
Summary:
Navy SEAL meets gamer geek in this opposites-attract, forced proximity romance from bestselling author Annabeth Albert
It’s typical of video game programmer Josiah Simmons to be the last one on the plane on the way to the biggest meeting of his career. Though he’s (mostly) coping with his ADHD, he can’t handle another distraction. But he also can’t ignore his rugged seatmate—especially once he learns the military man’s a fan of his game.
Ryan Orson refuses to let his severe injuries pause his career as a navy SEAL. He’s got hours of grueling physical therapy ahead of him, and no time for anything that might get in the way of his return to active duty. But that doesn’t mean he’s above a little first-class flirtation with geeky-cute Josiah.
When a delay strands the pair in St. Louis, they agree to share a hotel room and a night of gaming. Neither expects their new connection to move to the next level in the light of day. Opposites may attract, but is this game over before it’s even begun?
Summary:
Landon can’t believe he’s let himself get roped into participating in a charity calendar, let alone one that features tastefully photographed nudes. The genius physicist is hardly model material, and he’s dreading the nude part of the photoshoot. Amid his reluctance, the one bright spot is his emails back and forth with the photographer.
However, Bailey turns out to be not exactly what Landon expects, and their first meeting is decidedly awkward. Bailey’s persistent though, and gradually Landon warms to the burly photographer, and they discover they have a shared love of gamer culture.
A tentative friendship is born, but the road from friends to lovers isn’t easy. Landon’s battling past trauma and must decide how much of a risk he’s willing to take. A sexy connection may not be enough to keep them together unless both are willing to put their hearts on the line.
Approximately 40,000 words. Previously released as part of the EXPOSED anthology, and loosely linked to the #Gaymers universe, this friends-to-lovers, hurt/comfort story stands alone with a guaranteed happy ending. Contains a brief mention of a prior assault, but no on-screen violence or flashbacks.
Status Update #1
Chapter One
Noah knew the dog was trouble as soon as he and Ulysses entered the campground’s off-leash dog area. The little guy—some sort of Chihuahua/mini-pin mix in a yellow-and-green checked coat—stood in the center of the scrubby grass, barking his fool head off. The only human in the dog area sat at the picnic table on the far side, completely absorbed in his shiny phone, oblivious to his dog strutting around like all eight pounds of him would be enough to keep potential threats out.
Ulysses gave Noah a look, like “you really expect me to ignore that?” Noah tightened his hold on the tennis ball chucker. Ulysses never did well competing with smaller dogs for his toys. He unclipped Ulysses with a stern look.
“Be good.”
Still yapping, the little dog rushed over to inspect his new enemy. Predictably, Ulysses wandered away to do his business. He was too old for these sorts of games.
Noah gave a halfhearted wave in the direction of the owner, but the guy didn’t look up from his phone. The young guy was a typical hipster tourist—thick tortoise-framed glasses, artfully messed-up dark hair, with a thick purple streak, falling over his forehead. Slim build, but his wide shoulders stretched his too-thin jacket, making the shiny fabric ripple with his motions. He wasn’t any more prepared for November in Utah than his designer dog. Still, he was a cute guy, if one was the type to notice things like that, which Noah was not.
Noah looked away, studying the sheer cliffs that surrounded the Capitol Reef National Park. Didn’t matter how much time he spent in Southern Utah, he never got tired of the view. Phone guy was missing the light shifting into one of those perfect late fall sunsets that made the early dusk worth the loss of daylight. Pink streaks mingled with gray sky to cast a rosy glow over the scrubby grass and low fence of the dog area.
Rowwwr.Ulysses flopped at Noah’s feet, a deep beseeching whine rattling out of his barrel chest. He was eighty pounds of unhappy. He’d waited patiently all afternoon while Noah worked, and now he was missing out on his ball time thanks to the teacup gatekeeper.
“Okay, but play nice.” Noah threw the ball hard with the chucker toy, going for enough distance to outstrip the tiny dog’s ability to keep up with Ulysses. Not surprisingly, the little guy was tenacious, cutting off Ulysses’s path to the ball. Ulysses gave a warning woof, and Noah broke into a run, heading after the dogs.
“Down,” he called out. Ulysses wouldn’t attack the smaller dog, but he wasn’t above a major tantrum. And despite the smaller dog acting as instigator, people would see the huge black dog and toss out the “aggressor” label. Noah preferred to exercise him late in the day—Ulysses simply didn’t enjoy playing with other dogs, and Noah wasn’t one to force his dog into uncomfortable situations.
The little dog stood over the ball, yapping up a storm while Ulysses barked and growled, ignoring Noah’s command to sit.
Finally, the owner hefted himself off the picnic bench.
“Pixel, baby, what are you doing?” the owner called in a melodic voice that didn’t inspire Noah’s confidence in the man’s ability to control his dog. “Did the big doggie scare you?”
Hah.Typical. Noah snorted. “Can you grab the ball?” He didn’t trust those little dog breeds—too quick to snap. He’d nearly been bitten trying to retrieve a ball more than once.
“Oh sure.” The guy reached under Pixel—typical cutesy name for an annoying dog—and delicately plucked the ball free, but instead of handing it to Noah, he gave it a toss, sending both dogs running.
Oh great.Noah let out a slow breath, little puffs of vapor in the crisp evening air that did nothing to defuse his tension.
“It’ll be okay.” The way-too-handsy guy patted the sleeve of Noah’s parka. “They just need to work it out. Pixel loves to play.”
Noah took a step to the side. Who did that? Touched complete strangers? But the guy kept up his friendly grin, not unlike his dog, who kept gamely chasing Ulysses. Ulysses won the race to the ball this time and hightailed it back to Noah. Not releasing his prize, he whined softly.
“Hey, boy. You got a toy?” The guy knelt to dog level and extended a hand, but instead of sniffing, Ulysses shook his head.
“Sorry. He’s not much on new people.” Neither am I. Noah’s voice sounded rough to his own ears—too many days with only Ulysses to talk to.
“It’s okay.” The guy straightened, then extended a hand to Noah. “I’m Adrian Gottlieb. You been at Capitol Reef long?”
“Couple of weeks.” He returned Adrian’s handshake, hating it when a little buzz shot up his arm. Unlike his own gloved hand, Adrian’s hand was bare, a hint of a tattoo playing peekaboo with his cuff, his grip strong and firm. And Noah had absolutely no business noticing anything more than the guy’s relentless friendliness.
Adrian smiled expectantly as he released Noah’s hand.
“Oh, I’m Noah. And that’s Ulysses,” he added, because dog people always wanted to know all about the dog. No doubt the guy was bursting to tell Pixel’s life story.
“Add-dreeee-an,” a heavily accented voice called from the gate. A beefy guy close to Noah’s age leaned on the fence, bald head gleaming in the setting sun. “I’m lonely. When are you coming back?”
“Coming,” Adrian shouted, then gave Noah a shrug with a “what can you do?” expression on his face. He grabbed Pixel and jogged across the field.
Noah nodded like he knew anything about handling demanding friends. Adrian greeted the mammoth dude with a quick peck. Okay then. Not a friend. He should have guessed, but he was a bit slow about relationship stuff. The country was changing, even way out here, but no one would dare try even that much PDA in his tiny West Texas college town. His stomach gave a weird flip—not quite discomfort, but something else he refused to name. Time to return his attention to Ulysses. He hurled the tennis ball as hard as he could.
* * *
An hour later, Noah was trying to squeeze in a bit more work before dinner when he heard shouting outside his RV. He looked out the window above his sink, but didn’t see anyone. There was, however, an RV where yesterday there had been only silence and rocky terrain. The camper was one of those RV-USA rental things that screamed, “I’m being very poorly driven by a green tourist with no clue about campground etiquette.” Dozens of empty spots at the Sunny Ridge RV Park this time of year, but of course the universe saw fit to toss Noah yet another distraction. He had to get this Chapter finished tonight. Including the footnotes. December 22 was less than two weeks away, and he was still compiling research. The tenure committee would not be amused if he missed his book deadline and had nothing to show for his sabbatical. He tried putting on his headphones, but he could still hear the distant echo of angry voices. He recognized Adrian’s boyfriend’s heavy New Jersey accent though, and the argument was coming from the RV right next to his.
Hell.Should he go for the park manager? Noah really didn’t want to get in the middle of a domestic dispute, but he also needed to work. He took off the headphones, pushing the useless things aside. He couldn’t make out actual words, but the fight seemed to be escalating with a lot more cursing. The boyfriend seemed to be doing most of the yelling. Hell. If things got physical, Noah would have no choice but to go get the manager. Adrian was a little taller and wider than Noah, but he was no match for his hulk of boyfriend. Noah put on his shoes. His lower back tightened, a deep cramp hitting him. He hated arguments. Hated even overhearing them. God, he hoped there wasn’t alcohol involved—that could get things ugly in a hurry.
“Get out!” The nasal voice of the boyfriend was unmistakable this time.
“Hey!” Adrian’s indignant yell echoed through Noah’s RV.
Noah rushed to the window again. Adrian was standing in front of the door to his rental RV, boyfriend lurking in the doorway.
“Never figured you for such a pussy,” the guy growled. “And take your stupid dog.” He all but tossed a wriggling Pixel at Adrian.
“Do you have to be such an asshole?” Adrian called as the door slammed in his face.
Seconds later, the sound of a revving engine cut through the evening. Oh fuck. Noah swung open his door as the boyfriend backed out of the space.
“What the hell are you doing?” Adrian yelled. Pixel tucked under one arm, he raced after the RV, but it was too late—the boyfriend was ignoring all the five-miles-per-hour signs and booking it out of the RV park, tires spitting up gravel, the smell of diesel heavy in the chilly evening air.
“Ow.” Adrian made a pained sound as he hobbled back toward his now-empty RV spot.
“Are you hurt?” Rage gathered in Noah’s insides as he rushed to Adrian, extending an arm to help him hobble to the site’s picnic table.
“No. Just stupid rocks making it hard to walk.” Adrian looked down, and Noah saw his bare feet. His feet were long and narrow—and rapidly turning pale in the cold.
“You better come inside,” Noah said before he could re-think the offer. “I’ll go get the manager for you.”
“No worries. I’m sure Trent will be back soon.” Adrian’s small smile didn’t reach his eyes. “He probably needs to drive around a few minutes, let off some steam. Don’t get the manager—I don’t want us kicked out.”
Getting kicked out was probably already in the works if Old Billy had gotten a look at Trent’s driving, but Noah merely nodded. Let the man have a little pride. “Can I bring you a jacket and some socks while you wait?”
“I’m good.” Expression tight, Adrian made a shooing motion in the direction of Noah’s RV. He tucked his feet under him and let the dog burrow into his fleece sweatshirt. He pulled his phone out of his pocket.
Effectively dismissed, Noah hesitated on the steps of his RV, hating to leave Adrian outside alone.
“You bastard,” Adrian said into his phone. “Letting me go to voice mail? Where the hell are you? You’ve got all my stuff! My wallet’s in there! If you’re going to abandon me, at least let me get my crap, you asswipe.”
Okay. On second thought, maybe letting Adrian cool down for a few minutes was the right idea.
* * *
Well, crap. Adrian disconnected the call and glanced up at Noah’s closed RV door. He heard Noah murmuring something to his dog. He was a nice guy, far too nice to have to deal with someone’s BS ruining his evening.
But then again, he himself was too nice a guy for this BS. The crisp bite of the early evening air stung his cheeks before nipping into his bones, underscoring just how trapped he was. He checked his phone—less than thirty percent power. No phone charger. No wallet. No backpack with his laptop. No freaking shoes.
Pixel shivered under his sweatshirt. The day had hovered around sixty degrees, but the night had a definite chill to it, and the dry wind was picking up.
“And nothing for you either. I know.” He stroked Pixel’s quivering back. “We’ll get your toys and bed back, I promise.”
His hand tightened on the small dog, Adrian’s insides clenching along with his fist. How had he misjudged Trent so completely? A month ago, the idea of driving across the country had seemed like such a good way for them to finally get to know each other in person. But the man had done nothing but complain for the past four days—ever since he got off the plane in LA. But still, Adrian never would have pegged him for a guy who’d abandon him in the middle of Utah.
He straightened his shoulders, pressing his back into the edge of the wooden picnic table. Trent had to be coming back. Adrian dialed his number again, but it went straight to voice mail. He left another angry “Call me this minute” message, then thumbed through his messages. Nine zillion work emails, all reminding him of the mess waiting for him after his vacation. Nothing from Trent, not that he was expecting him to text an apology.
“Some vacation, huh, baby?” he said to Pixel. “Next time, you and me are going to an island. Just us.”
A deep chuckle cut into Adrian’s monologue. “That would certainly be warmer.”
Great.Now you look even more pathetic. Noah stepped down from his RV, holding a blanket, an expectant look on his face.
“I’m sure Trent’s already on his way back.” Adrian tried to sound way more confident than he felt. Damn it, he was not the kind of guy who got into these situations. Well, okay, clearly he was, but he didn’t have to like looking helpless in front of Mr. Outdoors.
Noah looked totally ready for the climate in a parka and hiking boots and a pair of those camping pants with all the pockets. His closely cropped beard and plaid shirt only added to his very well-kept mountain-man air. And he didn’t seem any too thrilled to be rescuing him. A frown creased his face as he tossed the blanket.
“I brought you a blanket. I’m going to go hunt down Billy. It’s already dark. You can’t sit there all night.” Noah leaned down to give Ulysses a pat. The dog kept tugging on his leash, no doubt eager to play with Pixel, who was wriggling to get down. Adrian was in no such hurry to go search out the elderly campground manager.
He’d met Billy when they’d checked in, and the man had pulled a two-tequila-no-chaser sour face when he’d realized Adrian and Trent were a couple. No doubt the man would be only too happy to be rid of them.
“I should wait here. I’m sure this is all a misunderstanding. All my stuff’s in the RV. He’s got to come back.”
Noah gave him a skeptical look and gestured at Adrian’s phone. “I’d be canceling my credit cards.”
“I trust Trent,” Adrian lied. He didn’t need to air all his misgivings to this guy.
“Suit yourself. I’ll be back.” With that, Noah strode away.
Adrian snuggled into the blanket, creating a little nest for Pixel and covering up his frozen feet. He rubbed them, trying to get a little circulation back.
His brain felt equally frozen, clogged with too many conflicting thoughts and feelings. Instead of using the time to cancel his cards or to call his family, Adrian got involved in a work discussion over email—talking about misbehaving octagons and things failing to render was so much better than thinking about what an epic mistake he’d made with Trent.
Beep.Beep. The battery warning signal sounded. Craptastic. He’d forgotten how fast his battery drained out here.
Looking up, he saw Noah headed back to the site, dark hair ruffled by the cool breeze. He was probably eight or ten years older than his own twenty-five, but he was a good-looking man. Not hot as much as classically handsome—the sort of long regal nose and deep-set eyes in a narrow face that gave him an almost aristocratic air despite the beard and rugged clothing. And he was almost certainly straight and Adrian had only been broken up with Trent for a whole half hour, so he had no business cataloging Noah’s appeal. Ulysses pulled at the leash, looking far more eager to see Adrian than his owner. And that wasn’t saying much seeing as how the dog was rather standoffish—curious, but not playful.
“Billy’s gone for the evening. I was going to have him take you into Green River, but he’s already there. Business’s been so slow, he left a note on the door of the house. Said he’d check in new arrivals in the morning. Too darn trusting, that man.” Noah looked right at Adrian as he said that last bit.
Okay, message received. Did everyone have to have an opinion about Adrian’s taste in men?
“He can just leave like that?” Adrian asked.
“There’s a whole six vehicles here. It’s winter. Most of the RV places nearby are closed for the season. This isn’t exactly a high-class joint.” Noah gestured. The campground was on the outskirts of the national park, more amenable to long-term campers like Noah, but close enough to attract the park tourists like Adrian too.
The other RVs were clustered closer to Old Billy’s cabin, in the neatly numbered spaces surrounding the covered picnic area and horseshoe pits. From here, all he could make out was the distant interior lights on the rig closest to Billy’s cabin. Adrian and Noah were down past the off-leash dog area, on a dead-end gravel drive. No seasonal decor down here. Adrian figured that Billy had stuck him and Trent out in a distant space to avoid gay cooties. He didn’t know what Noah’s deal was, but he struck Adrian as the sort of guy who would request the farthest, most remote space.
Noah scanned Adrian up and down, a condescending little smirk like he assumed Adrian was afraid of roughing it and wouldn’t know how to appreciate a place like this.
And yeah, that had been one of Adrian’s arguments with Trent—Trent liked the swankier RV parks with indoor pools and weight rooms while all Adrian had really cared about was the little dog-friendly icon on his trip guide app.
He wasn’t some pampered princess, no matter what Noah assumed.
“You have someone you can call?” Noah asked. His voice was smooth and cultured, like an NPR announcer, no hint of a Western drawl. Despite the outdoorsy exterior, he wasn’t from around these parts.
“Not exactly.” Adrian laughed because, really, what else could he do? “My family’s in Denver, but...it’s complicated.” Besides being eight hours away, he did not want to deal with confessing the whole Trent tale quite yet.
Noah studied him for a long moment, brows creasing in an expression that said he understood complicated.
“I get that. But you can’t stay outside tonight. The temperature will keep dropping.” Noah held open the door of his RV. “For better or worse, I think you’re stuck with me and Ulysses for the night.” He said the last bit all resigned and not as if he was doing him a favor. More like Adrian’s frozen carcass would be a nuisance he’d rather not have to clean up.
Something about that worse gave Adrian pause. Noah had a confident air, the sort of guy comfortable with the outdoors who probably knew a whole bunch of ways to harm someone that had nothing to do with brute strength. It finally struck Adrian how darn helpless Trent had left him. His chest hitched and his throat tightened. Stranded.He left me. Now he was completely at Noah’s mercy, and defenseless was not the sort of guy Adrian was. In fact, that had been most of the problem with Trent—Adrian wasn’t the sort to shut up and take orders nicely.
Adrian stood, wrapping the blanket tightly around him and Pixel, but didn’t rush to follow Noah. This felt...big somehow. Bigger than admitting Trent wasn’t about to reappear. Warm light spilled out from Noah’s RV along with a spicy, meaty scent.
“Well, come on.” Noah motioned impatiently.
Pixel made a snuffling sound in Adrian’s arms. Poor baby was going to freeze out here long before Adrian admitted he was well and truly fucked. He was out of options—no choice but to accept Noah’s reluctant hospitality.
Beta Test #2
Knock. Knock. A knock came from the connecting door, startling Ravi into hopping off the bed.
“Tristan?” he called before unlocking the door.
“Yeah,” came the muffled reply.
“What’s up?” As he opened the door, he realized that he didn’t even have a shirt on. After his shower, he’d pulled on a pair of Star Wars lounge pants that Avani had given him on his last birthday. He wasn’t a modest guy, but this was a bit…exposed for a late-night encounter.
“Um. Not much.” Tristan stood there in ridiculous blue plaid pajamas and bare feet, hair still damp and sticking up at weird angles. The overall effect should have been one of Tristan escaping from whatever retirement compound Elmer called home, but instead Ravi found it endearing.
You’re so screwed, man.
“Not much?” Ravi raised an eyebrow. “But you knocked?”
“Um. Yeah.” Tristan scratched his neck and shuffled one foot. “My room stinks.”
“Your room stinks?” Ravi had to stop himself from laughing. As far as pretexts went, that was pretty darn lame, high-school-campout-worthy stuff.
“It really does.” Tristan gestured, and Ravi followed him in and took a deep sniff. Yeah, the room did smell pretty funky.
“O-kay.” Ravi drew the word out. “Why don’t you call the front desk? This is a pretty big place, and it’s the middle of the week. I’m sure they can find you a different room.”
“Sorry. I didn’t mean to bother you.” Tristan did the shuffle thing with his foot again. “Never mind.”
“Tris.” Ravi grabbed Tristan’s shoulders when he tried to turn away, forced him to look at him. “What’s really up?”
“Nothing. I was thinking we could watch a movie in your room, but you’re right, I should call for a new room.”
“That’s what you want? To hang out with me?” Ravi took a step forward, not dropping his hands from Tristan’s shoulders. He could feel his warmth even through the soft blue cotton. Their bodies were mere inches apart now. Tristan’s gaze went straight to Ravi’s mouth before he licked his own lips.
Oh fuck. Killing me, Tris, you really are.
“I’ve got a movie on,” Ravi said softly, making no move toward his room or to step away from Tristan. There were a thousand reasons why he needed to step away, get Tristan to call for a new room, and stop the energy arcing between them, yet he couldn’t seem to find the one that would get his feet to move.
“Yeah.” Tristan’s exhale ghosted across Ravi’s face. His eyes continued to look as though they had a tractor beam on Ravi’s mouth. “That’s good.”
“I’ve got no clue what the movie is.” Ravi laughed shakily.
“That’s okay.” Tristan moved, subtly leaning forward before retreating a millimeter, like he wasn’t quite sure how to close the gap between them.
Ravi knew, but there were a whole host of reasons why he should retreat and lock the door behind him, put a hotel’s worth of distance between himself and temptation. But he didn’t move back, instead doing what Tristan was shuffling toward and closed the distance between them, claiming Tristan’s mouth like he’d been obsessing about for two days now.
Okay, okay, perhaps a bit longer than that, if he were honest with himself. Tristan was fussy and prissy and so not Ravi’s type, except he was cute and endearing and eager to please and…
Oh fuck it. They were so doing this thing.
Ravi’s lips slid softly over Tristan’s, hands coming up to cup Tristan’s face. His skin was smooth and slightly slippery, as if he’d shaved earlier. Tristan gave a little sigh as their lips collided, a happy noise that went straight to Ravi’s dick. Tristan tasted like a minty memory from Ravi’s teen years, a simple, classic taste that totally fit with the rest of Tristan’s persona.
And the way they fit together felt like a different kind of memory—like they’d done this before and yet never before in the same instant. Brand-new and achingly familiar. And far, far too sweet for Ravi’s blood.
Connection Error #3
Chapter One
Somewhere between the third newsstand and the fourth moving sidewalk in LAX, Josiah regretted not joining his friend Ravi in training for a 10k charity race. Nothing like a flat-out sprint from the check-in counter to the slow-moving security lines and another dash from security all the way through gates to make him rethink his aversion to cardio. And the worst part was that for once in his life he’d made every effort to be on time, getting up before the alarm, starting coffee, making sure they were out of the house by o’dark thirty ready for his early morning flight to Germany via a stop in Washington, DC.
Passport? Check.
Carry-on with both laptops, tablet and assorted accessories? Check.
Suitcase with more shirts with buttons than he’d ever owned in his life? Check.
Double-checking that his ticket was booked under “Josiah” not “Joseph”? Total fail, but in his defense, it never occurred to him that the travel agency his employer used would give the wrong name. And the check-in attendant at the airline counter didn’t want to believe that there was a mistake. Thus, every careful endeavor he’d made to ensure that he was on time—early even—went up in a huff of waiting for a supervisor and then another supervisor.
And now finally he was sprinting to make sure he didn’t miss the plane. Forget being there in time to priority board, he was going to be lucky to make the plane period. His first time flying first class—thank you, Space Villager for being such a bestselling game—and it was off to an inelegant start thanks to a stupid mistake.
Finally, finally, he reached the last few gates of the terminal. The TV sets scattered throughout the waiting area were all taking about that huge freak snowstorm heading for the New York area and whether it might veer south enough to cause snow along the whole Eastern Seaboard. Josiah shook his head, trying to not get sucked in to the TV. As long as he got to Germany on time, it wasn’t going to affect him and he needed to stay focused on—
“Last call for Flight 324 nonstop service to Washington Dulles International,” the loudspeaker blared.
“I’m here, I’m here,” he panted as the gate attendant set the red phone back on its hook. He held out his ticket. The woman was around his mother’s age with very red lipstick and very short blond hair and a spectacular frown just for him.
“Ah. Mr. Simmons.” She looked up after scanning his tickets, decidedly less frosty once she saw his first-class seat number. “Come with me, I’m going to have to walk you down.” She spoke into a walkie-talkie as they headed down the walkway. “We’re going to need to gate check your bags. I’m so sorry, but the first-class overhead compartments are all full.”
“Crap.” She gave him a questioning look, and Josiah remembered that he was supposed to be Mr. Smooth and Sophisticated Project Manager, not some whiny kid. “Sorry. That’s fine. Just let me grab my laptop.” He grabbed the laptop with the longer battery life before the attendant put a pink gate-check tag on his two bags. “But...uh...fragile.”
She gave him a tight smile, but added a yellow Fragile tag to his laptop bag. “You’re in Seat 1A,” she said, handing him his ticket back. “You’ll get your bags back when we land, I promise. Enjoy your flight.”
After a brief conversation with the gate attendant, a male flight attendant shut the plane door behind Josiah. “Welcome aboard,” he said to Josiah in a tone that clearly meant, “thank you for pushing back our departure.” In fact, the plane was rolling away from the gate before Josiah almost tumbled into the empty aisle seat of the first row.
“You made it.” A warm chuckle eased past the pounding of Josiah’s heart.
“Wha—what?” he whipped his head over to the window seat—a farther distance than one might expect. The first-class seats were huge padded affairs and there was a thick console dividing the seats. And...hello, most gorgeous guy Josiah had ever seen.
Wide, mischievous smile. Sparkling hazel eyes. Unshaven jaw. Short dark brown hair. And holy hell, arm muscles for days.Bulging biceps with tats poking out of his T-shirt sleeves.
All of a sudden this flight started looking way up.
“Sorry. Didn’t mean to startle you. I just meant I was beginning to think I’d get the row all to myself.” The guy’s voice was possibly even more attractive than his model-worthy face, deep and soothing, with an undercurrent of the sort of confidence that never failed to make Josiah shiver.
And he was all Josiah’s for the next five hours.
Well, except for the part where he seemed ready to take a nap and tune Josiah out—the guy had a pillow behind his head and a blanket on his lap. He yawned, revealing gleaming teeth worthy of a toothpaste ad.
“You’re not a model, are you?” As usual, Josiah’s tongue leaped into action before his brain could restrain it.
“What? No, not a model.” The guy laughed, more of that smoky chuckle that did things to Josiah’s insides.
“TV star? Athlete? Because it seems like I should know you from somewhere, and I don’t want to get to DC and people be like, hey, you were next to that Laker the whole flight...” He trailed off because his friends were right that he had absolutely no filter, and that was triple true around Muppet-flail-worthy hot guys.
“Nope, not famous.” The guy studied Josiah for a long moment, considering, the sort of are-you-for-real expression on his face that Josiah was well used to. Seeming to come to some sort of decision, the guy stuck his right arm across the console. “Lieutenant Ryan Orson, US Navy.”
“Pleased to meet you.” Josiah accepted the handshake. Navy made sense given the Navy-emblazoned T-shirt stretched tight over the guy’s aircraft-carrier-wide chest. Holy crap, the guy was big. Josiah was a skinny 6’2” with big hands and feet that always got in the way. But this guy’s hand made Josiah’s feel downright dainty. “I’m Josiah, Josiah Simmons.”
“Well, Josiah, want to know a secret?” Ryan asked in a conspiratorial whisper.
“Sure.” Josiah was down with whatever secrets this guy wanted to share.
“Not only am I not famous, I’m not even supposed to be in first class.”
“You’re not?”
“Nope.” Ryan winked at Josiah. He had a very disarming wink, all good humor and twinkly eyes.
“The check-in clerk bumped me into first.”
“You got the nice clerk.” Josiah was still a bit grumbly over the name hassle.
“She lost a brother over in Afghanistan.” There was a subtle hint of “grow up” in Ryan’s tone. Josiah straightened, remembering again who he was supposed to be. And here was this impossibly attractive guy to practice on. Sure, he might be Josiah the clueless geek back home, but here he was Josiah the new project manager. This Josiah knew the right way to act and speak and could impress even tough audiences.
“That’s so sad for her.” Josiah tried for sophisticated empathy, something he knew he kind of sucked at.
“Yeah, it is.” Something indecipherable passed over Ryan’s face, his eyes getting darker and cloudier and that wide smile flagging a bit. “Anyway, guess she saw...the Navy connection and had a spare seat to bump me into.”
“What do you do? In the Navy I mean?”
The guy went silent, considering, and Josiah was afraid he’d been too nosy again, but right when he was about to apologize, Ryan finally spoke. “I’m a SEAL. I do a little bit of everything, but mainly I make things go boom. You?”
“Oh my God, you’re Special Forces. Do I ever have questions for you!” Josiah babbled again, only slowing down as Ryan’s easy smile morphed into grim line. “Sorry. I’m just excited because I’m a video game designer. And special ops is our new expansion pack.” And it happened to be the one Josiah was in charge of.
“You program games?” Ryan blinked, and Josiah wasn’t sure what he’d expected Josiah to do, but this clearly wasn’t it. “Anything I’ve heard of?”
Ah. That was it. He assumed Josiah was some sort of kid programming a dot matrix game in his basement. Josiah knew he looked too young for his job, because he was too young. At twenty-three, he was the youngest lead developer on the design team. Thus, he took no small amount of pride in saying, “Space Villager.”
“Oh wow, really?” There was a new note of respect in Ryan’s voice. “I love that game, especially the pod racer and first-person shooter expansion packs.” There was a hint of Texas or something else Southern in his voice, and Josiah could listen to him all day.
“Yeah? Well you’re going to love our special ops expansion pack even more.” Josiah projected far more confidence than he actually felt. He could make this project a success. He had to. The PR team had already hinted that the next expansion pack would revolve around special ops activities on a small war-torn planet, so Josiah didn’t worry too much about sharing this much with Ryan.
“I bet. My ex got me to back the crowdfunding drive, and I’ve been hooked ever since. My buddies were already teasing me about how much time I spent gaming, but there’s something particularly addictive about your game.”
Your game. Josiah liked the sound of that. He only knew a handful of women who played Space Villager,but the ones who did tended to be rabid fans. It was possible he might even know Ryan’s ex by her user handle, but Josiah had just enough self-control to not ask.
“Prepare for takeoff,” the pilot intoned over the PA. This was the part Josiah hated, the acceleration and stomach-dropping ascent. Today he hated it even more, knowing they might catch the edge of that storm. Focusing on turbulence that was probably hours away wasn’t logical, but then, Josiah’s brain seldom was.
“You always so antsy or are you a nervous flyer?” Ryan asked.
Oh crap. Guess he wasn’t doing such a bang-up job projecting the aura of a with-it project manager. He laughed nervously. “Both?”
“I promise we’re going to be okay.” Ryan gave him a quick friendly pat on the knee.
Oh. Josiah’s eyes went wide. Ryan was missing part of the pinky finger on his left hand and had some wicked scarring further up his forearm. Josiah tried not to stare, but knew he failed miserably.
“Mission gone wrong,” Ryan said gruffly. “Now back to flying, millions of people fly every day. It’s safer than car travel.” His tone made it clear further discussion of his hand was not on the table.
“I know flying’s safe. Knowing that’s not the same as believing it.”
Ryan’s answering laugh seemed to strip some of the tension from his face. “How well do I know that attitude. My ex got nervous before every flight, and his buddies used to razz him about it mercilessly.”
Man, two ex references in five minutes. Ryan must be totally hung up on his ex...wait. “His buddies”... What the hell?
“Your ex is a guy?”
“Yup.” Ryan’s smirk said he’d pegged Josiah ten minutes ago, probably when Josiah couldn’t peel his eyes away from those tasty biceps.
“Cool.” He was grinning, but he couldn’t make his facial muscles behave. Hot damn. Gorgeous, muscled, single, gamer, and gay. He ticked every last one of Josiah’s “perfect man” boxes. And if the gods were kind at all, Josiah could keep it together long enough to make a lasting impression.
* * *
Tall, twitchy, pale, and nerdy was so not Ryan’s type. Ever since the breakup with Chad, he’d had a type he classified as the anti-Chad: blond, bendable, and uncomplicated. And if that made him shallow, well so be it. But this wasn’t his favorite nightclub where he had decent pickings. Josiah was the first guy Ryan had had opportunity to flirt with in three months—four if you counted the deployment, which his dick definitely did.
And other than a bit of staring at Ryan’s hand, the guy treated him...normal. No, not normal. Special. Like Ryan was a sexy offering from some alien race. And Ryan’s ego wasn’t above a little old-fashioned objectification. The guy might not be his type, but hell if Ryan wasn’t going to enjoy the flight.
The plane reached its cruising altitude with Josiah still looking at Ryan like he was the last In-N-Out combo on a planet of K rations.
“What can I get you gentlemen to drink?” A petite flight attendant with big dimples held out two napkins. “We’ll have breakfast by shortly.”
Hooya. Ryan could get used to this flying first class business. “Thank you, ma’am,” he said as he accepted the napkin.
“Mimosa?” she suggested.
Ryan was sorely tempted, but the cocktail of meds he was on these days precluded drinking the fun stuff. “Bloody Mary mix, side of lemon,” he ordered instead. If he added enough lemon, maybe he wouldn’t miss the vodka.
“Half a cup of coffee, black, and a milk,” Josiah ordered with a blush.
“Worried too much coffee will hype you up?” he joked to Josiah.
“Actually, it calms me down.” The faint flush on his cheeks darkened. He was so pale that even a modest blush was a vibrant stain. Unlike the military types Ryan had spent the past decade around, Josiah looked like he had an aversion to the outdoors generally, and PT specifically.
“Hey, whatever works.” Ryan squeezed both wedges of lemon into the plastic cup the flight attendant passed over.
Josiah was balancing both his laptop and his beverage on his tray table, and Ryan saw a disaster waiting to happen. Sure enough, when the second flight attendant came through with their food, the glass wobbled precariously when Josiah whisked the laptop out of the way. Ryan reached out and steadied it for Josiah.
“Thanks.” Josiah took the cup back, his fingers brushing Ryan’s.
Zing. Huh. That was weird. An unexpected sizzle raced up Ryan’s forearm, and his voice came out gruffer than needed. “No problem.”
“Quiche,” the stewardess said as she set steaming dishes down on their trays.
Josiah waited until she had moved to the row behind them to say, “Eggs. Ugh. You want mine?”
“Sure.” Ryan accepted the dish with a shrug. Growing up, he’d learned to not be picky about food and the military had only reinforced that. “Allergic?”
“No, I just don’t like the texture.” Josiah shuddered. “But it’s okay. My mom packed... Oh heck. The food’s in the bag they made me gate check.”
Yeah, add “too young” to the list of why Josiah wasn’t for Ryan. Anyone whose mother still packed snacks for them was too young for this ride. But still Ryan wasn’t going to be mean. He took the wrapped muffins off both his and Josiah’s trays. “Here. You can eat these.”
“One’s fine.” Josiah handed one back.
Ryan shrugged. If you asked him, Josiah could do with a bit of bulking up. And judging from how he attacked the muffin, he was hungrier than he let on.
“Oh this is good.” Josiah’s mouth curved in pure pleasure, and Ryan almost choked on his next bite of quiche.
Fuck me. He did not want to get turned on by this kid. Kid. Kid who lived in Los Angeles and had a mother who packed him snacks and who had a killer smile. Wait. Ryan was not supposed to dwell on that. Nerdy kid who talked about games with the sort of rapture Ryan reserved for talking about a great mission with his buddies... Oh fuck. Ryan was so screwed. Flirting and looking was one thing, but Ryan really didn’t need to take a crush on a too-young guy back to Walter Reed.
Level Up #4
1
“You’ve got a crush on a photographer you’ve never met.” Savannah shook her long dark hair as they walked from the parking garage toward the imposing structure of Los Angeles’s Central Library.
“It’s not a crush. I’m just excited to meet her.” Landon never should have told her about how his emails with the photographer had gone from a short introduction and details about the photoshoot to a forty-plus email chain about a game they both loved and other things they had in common, increasingly flirty in tone.
“It’s totally a crush. And she’s going to see you naked in about twenty minutes. In a library—”
“Her mother’s going to be there. And stop focusing on the naked part, okay? I’m nervous enough. I’m hoping just removing my shirt or something will be enough.”
“Or something.” Savannah snorted. “Have you even seen some of these naked charity calendars? Sure the fun bits are covered, but we’re talking everything bare. Did you appropriately manscape?”
“I invited you along for moral support. I never should have told you about the emails with Bailey.” Emails he had really, really enjoyed. She had a fun Instagram account too—lots of snaps of things in and around Portland where she was based now. Her avatar was of a dangling camera, which was probably smart as plenty of guys would undoubtedly follow along just for a pretty girl. But a petite pink-haired woman carrying camera equipment featured often enough in casual group shots that Landon was pretty sure that was her.
“It’s cute. And you guys all bonded over that game—Space Villager—so she’s suitably nerdy.” Savannah grinned at him. And yeah, that was how Landon knew she was single. He’d gone on something of a fishing expedition telling her that her boyfriend must be the luckiest guy ever because she liked to game, and her reply had been that there was no boyfriend in the picture at the moment. “And I am here for the going-out-after-we-get-you-naked part.”
“Can we stop mentioning the naked thing?” Landon held the door for her as they entered the library. It was close to closing time on a Friday night, when most of LA was out gearing up for weekend fun, and the library was largely deserted as they entered the breathtaking rotunda. Landon had been here a few times, and he still was impressed at the architecture of the landmark building. Soaring arches and colorful murals and tile work all over the curved ceiling made him feel like he’d stepped into a castle, not a library.
“You here for the photoshoot?” A burly guy with a beard came up to them, slightly out of breath, probably a library employee who please-and-thank-you would be leaving before the picture taking. He had a big grin as he looked down at clipboard. “You’re Landon, right?”
“Yeah.” Fuck. Had everyone here seen the selfie he’d sent Bailey?
“Landon, I’m Bailey Morgan. I’m so excited to finally meet you.”
“You’re Bailey?” Landon tried, he really did. He swallowed hard and schooled his eyes to not fly open, but some his shock crept into his tone. “But you’re…” A guy. And not a bad-looking one, either, if you were into baby bears. But still. A guy.
“Oh.” Bailey’s face crumpled like old paper towels. “The name. Sorry. It didn’t even occur to me that you didn’t know.”
Fuck. Now Landon felt even worse for not keeping his disappointment to himself. Despite not being what he’d expected, this Bailey was still the nice person he’d emailed with for the better part of two weeks, and Landon wasn’t usually one to go around stomping on feelings.
“Yeah. No. It’s my fault for assuming. Please don’t apologize.” He was babbling now. God, this was a mess, and worst of all, he still had to strip down in front of…
Bailey.Who was about as far from the nonthreatening petite photographer he’d envisioned as one could get. The guy was probably around six foot three, with broad shoulders, and a thick build. Arms that said he lifted a lot more than a digital camera regularly, and a wide frame that could have easily played football. And fuck, it had been years.Just the thought of football and football players shouldn’t be enough to get his pulse skittering, but it totally did. No matter how nice this Bailey seemed, Landon and guys who looked like they could bench-press him without breaking a sweat were an awful mix, one that sent his stomach roiling and made it hard to speak coherently.
“Okay. Well, I really am happy to meet you. I really enjoyed our emails.” Bailey had a nice broad smile, but his eyes were wary.
“Me too.” Landon wasn’t just being polite. He had enjoyed the emails. Maybe a bit too much. He should have reined in the flirting especially. But that wasn’t Bailey’s fault. And it totally wasn’t his fault that he looked like a shadow from Landon’s nightmares. Landon tried reminding his unruly mind that Bailey was nice.Not a threat. He liked Space Villager and War Elf and chicken tikka masala and didn’t drink because it gave him headaches. Landon knew all sorts of little tidbits that all added up to say this was a decent person. Just not the one he was expecting.
“We’re setting up in the atrium. If you’ll follow me? And oh, here’s my assistant, Rachel.” Bailey waved at a small, familiar-looking pink-haired woman crossing the rotunda toward them. For the briefest of moments, Landon thought perhaps something about this mess might be salvageable, but then she looked at Savannah like she was a loaded burrito after a three-hour bike ride, and Landon knew better than to get any ideas there. Not that the very pleasant-seeming Rachel couldn’t be bi or pan, but no way was he fighting Savannah for the chance to impress her.
Swapping compliments, Savannah and Rachel led the way to the atrium, a soaring multi-level expanse of glass that ran the length of the building. As they walked, a speaker blared about the library closing in five minutes.
“I really am sorry,” Bailey said a low voice. Even his whisper was deep, and Landon couldn’t help an internal shudder as his body was torn between intimidation and arousal. And really, it didn’t matter what his libido thought. Bailey was everything he knew better than to let himself want. “You can skip on going out afterward if you want. I’ll understand.”
They’d made plans to go out for food after the shoot with Savannah and Bailey’s assistant, Landon saying he’d probably be too nervous to eat beforehand and Bailey saying it would be fun to talk after the pictures were done. And Landon would be the worst kind of heel to change his mind now.
“Nah. It’ll be okay.” Maybe by the end of this, he’d have a better excuse to get out of socializing, but he wasn’t going to say no right now, not when Bailey was looking so earnestly at him. He had compelling blue eyes, the color so dark it almost looked brown at first glance. They matched his blue short sleeved button-down shirt. It looked soft, kinda like his wavy hair and beard. And all of him looked braced for Landon to call this whole thing off. Fuck. I am such a jerk. Why couldn’t he be the sort of guy who could roll with this without managing to crush Bailey’s feelings?
“Good. I’m looking forward to it. And don’t worry about the pictures—I know you’re nervous, but this is going to be painless. I’ve already mapped out a few things I want to try, but we’re not going to get too crazy or make you change locations a bunch. Atrium plus a few in the science stacks and then done.” True to his word, Bailey gestured at a whole photography setup with lights right near one of the huge sculptures that dotted the atrium.
“That doesn’t sound too hard.” Actually, all of it sounded like torture, but Landon kept his voice light. Fuck. What had he been thinking, getting involved with this charity calendar project? Savannah, a fellow professor and researcher, had nominated him for this “thirty under thirty” list for his physics contributions. Literacy was one of her pet projects, so she’d pushed him to do the calendar featuring naked “thirty under thirty” men to raise money for literacy. Different photographers were donating their time for the project, all around the country.
“Bailey! They’re locking the doors now.” An older woman with the same wavy hair and blue eyes as Bailey came up to them. “Do you have everything you need?”
“Yeah, Mom.” Bailey gave her an indulgent smile before introducing her as Peggy to Landon and Savannah. “This is Landon. He’s our model.”
“Excellent. And don’t worry, you won’t be the first one naked in here.” Peggy laughed with what Landon guessed was librarian humor. She worked in the reference section and had been with the central library several decades now.
“Well, it’s not naked.” Landon’s own laugh was more than a little shaky. “I was thinking, we can probably just get away with shirtless, right?”
“Nope.” Rachel finally tore her gaze away from Savannah long enough to speak up. “It’s the full monty. I can show you some proofs from shoots around the country—there’s a lot of bare bum happening. Shaving cream fights. Finger paints. Even strategically placed baskets of puppies. Bailey’s taking it easy on you, trust me. And we’ve got a nice robe for you between takes.”
Bailey held out a fluffy white hotel-style robe.
“This is probably my clue to skedaddle.” Peggy backed away from the deserted atrium with a little wave. “I’ll check back in in a while.”
“There’s a bathroom over there. You can go ahead and strip and then use the robe. Unless you need to chat more? Get comfortable?” Bailey’s smile was so earnest that Landon’s chest hurt. Totally not Bailey’s problem that longer conversation was only likely to freak Landon out more.
“Nah. Let’s get this over with.” He took a deep breath. Nothing to lose, right? He could do this.
* * *
Bailey wanted to beat his head into one of the metal balcony rails close by where they’d set up for the shoot. Fuck. He’d been looking forward to meeting Landon all damn week. He’d even worn his favorite shirt, like this was a date, not a job. It had been foolish, but with each email back and forth, he’d liked the guy more and more. Landon had a sharp, sarcastic sense of humor that was really refreshing—and nowhere evident on the uncomfortable, grumpy, more-than-a-little nervous guy who’d shown up today. Who’d been very clearly expecting a woman.
Bailey had honestly thought that Landon had figured out that he was into guys and that he was a guy when he’d asked whether Bailey had a boyfriend. The emails had gotten way more flirty after Bailey’s reply that he didn’t have one. And Landon had said he’d seen Bailey’s social media—not that there were a ton of pictures of himself, especially recently, but he would have thought the clues were there. Longtime followers teased him about his penchant for bearded barista pics and his ability to frame good-looking chests in interesting ways. But maybe Landon wasn’t a comment reader.
Ugh. This sucked. There was still a chance that Landon swung his direction, but it seemed pretty damn unlikely. Everything about Landon said he’d rather wrestle a mountain lion than have his picture taken by Bailey.
“Do you think he’s gonna be able to pose?” Rachel finally left her flirting with Savannah to come over. “He looked like he might be sick when you handed him the robe. We need him looking like he’s having naughty fun, not like he’s being drawn and quartered.
“I’m the one being tortured,” Bailey muttered.
“Oh, sweetie. I can’t tell you how many times people haven’t measured up to their online personalities for me. Maybe he’s just not the guy you thought?”
No, I’m not the woman he thought. Bailey only shrugged. Who knew if the funny, articulate guy who had so captivated him was in there? And maybe it didn’t matter. He had a job to do here. His mother had gotten him this opportunity to get involved with the charity project, and some great pics would boost his portfolio.
Carrying his clothes, Landon emerged from the restroom with the robe wrapped tightly around him.
“Ready?” Bailey tried to give him his most encouraging smile. “What I’m thinking first is playing peekaboo with the sculpture. Let the statue hide half of you, but you looking like you’re having a good time fooling around.”
The sculpture was a thirteen feet tall column with radiating planes of aluminum, managing to look both botanical and humanoid in design. It did interesting things with light and would look nice contrasted with Landon’s pale skin. He wasn’t pasty, just naturally very fair with blond hair and light blueish gray eyes. If he looked hard enough, Bailey was pretty sure he’d find a freckle or three.
“Like this?” Landon stood so only his face poked around the side of the sculpture. Okay, there was a hint of the humor Bailey had been so drawn to.
“Let’s do one like that, just to test the lighting, then drop the robe. Maybe get crazy and show an arm and a hint of leg.”
“Do you want me to do something with his hair?” Rachel asked as she adjusted the lights.
“No, not yet,” Bailey said in a low whisper. Landon’s hair was longer than it had been in the picture he’d sent, pulled back into a little ponytail. Bailey really wanted to see what it looked like down, but they’d have to work up to suggestions like that. After checking the light meter, Bailey took a few test snaps of Landon’s face.
“All right. How about you look at Savannah, pretend she said something funny.” Bailey figured Landon would be more comfortable looking at his friend than him.
“Ha. Ha. I’ll just think about her last paper.” Landon winked, and Bailey’s insides went all mushy. Damn, but the guy was appealing when he loosened up.
“Says the guy who had me read his last conference presentation at three o’clock in the morning. At least I had mine done before my deadline,” Savannah tossed back.
Snap. Snap. Bailey got the exchange of barbs with Savannah. “Do you guys work together on any projects?”
“We did in graduate school. But I’m pretty sure we’d kill each other these days with our different work styles, and our friendship’s more important.” Savannah smiled fondly. “But next term we’re team teaching a section. That should be interesting.”
“That’s one way to put it.” More of Landon emerged from behind the sculpture.
“Pull the robe off your shoulder,” Bailey suggested. Baby steps. They’d get to pictures they could potentially use eventually.
One slim but muscled arm emerged as Landon freed one arm from the robe. He kept his lower half behind the sculpture, but more of his upper body was visible now. He was lean, but his arm and chest had the sort of muscular definition that suggested he was no stranger to exercise. His ropey neck and prominent collar bones were particularly hot, and Bailey tried to capture the way the light played with the contours.
The robe fell open more, and a hint of blond fuzz showed in the gap of the robe. He hadn’t waxed, for which Bailey was selfishly thankful, as a lot of the guys on these calendar projects always seemed to go for the totally smooth look.
“How about both arms now? Leave the robe around your waist.”
“Okay.” Landon slipped out of the other sleeve and leaned forward more, looking at Bailey instead of Savannah. Snap. Snap. That inquisitive, cautious stare was catnip to the camera, as it gave Landon a vulnerable air, would make the viewer feel like they got to see something secret.
“Kick out a leg, like you’re about to run away,” Bailey directed.
“That allowed?” Landon laughed. “It’s hard to kick with all this fabric, but I’ll try.”
“Let it drop. Then show us the one leg and your upper body, like you’re about to sprint, but stay playful about it.”
Landon took longer to comply this time, but then a bare leg emerged along with Landon’s upper body.
“Woohoo!” Savannah called. “Now stop looking like you’re running from an alien invasion and start looking like you’re on the hunt for fun.”
“Hey, alien invasions are fun,” Landon protested. “Point me to the nearest LAN party. That sounds way more my speed than anything risqué.”
“Smart guy,” Bailey said as he got a few more pictures. He had to remind himself not to let his voice get too light. Landon was not here for flirting, no matter how much they had in common. “Me too. And we don’t need you looking like you’re heading to an orgy. Just like you’re ready for a good time. Rachel, can you grab the robe so it’s not visible at the bottom of the frame?”
Landon looked down with a sagging face like Bailey was removing his security blanket.
“I’ll be right here,” Rachel promised, standing just out of the frame.
“You’re doing great,” Bailey encouraged. He was rapidly scrapping huge portions of his shot list in favor of things that might coax more smiles out of Landon. “Can you turn, make it look like you’re about to duck behind the piece instead of emerging from it?”
Landon sucked in a deep breath before following directions, turning so that Bailey had a great view of the curve of his ass and one thigh. He had a gorgeous tat above one shoulder blade that Bailey wished he could see more clearly of some sort of colorful bird.
“What’s the tattoo?” he asked because he was never very good at restraining his curiosity.
Landon’s blush was seriously adorable and Bailey managed several good shots as he waited for an answer. “It’s Fawkes the Phoenix from Harry Potter. Laugh and I’m done.”
“Never! I love it. Turn your shoulder more toward me.” He set up the shot before asking, “What’s your favorite book in the series?”
And with that, they were off to the races, discussing the books as Bailey got more of the pictures he was hoping for.
“And now, move about three feet to your left, back to me, and look over the rail.”
“Away from the sculpture?” Landon frowned.
“We’re almost done here. I want a few without the sculpture, just to have that option. You looking out over the atrium will be an epic shot.”
“It’s just ass,” Savannah called. Not helping. Bailey shot her a look.
“Okay.” Landon scooted into position, keeping his back to Bailey. And damn, he did have a nice ass, high and plump and muscular.
“Stretch your arms over head, like you’re owning the space. Think War Elf chieftain surveying his realm.”
Landon laughed and turned his head over one shoulder. Gorgeous. Bailey got that shot before Landon did as requested and stretched, totally a textbook study in back muscles, tat adding to the visual appeal of the shot. He was shorter than Bailey, maybe five foot ten or so, but stretched like that, he seemed much taller. Mythic almost.
“You guys and your games. Has Landon told you he has the hookup on the next Space Villager expansion pack?” Savannah asked. “He’s been insufferable.”
“Really? That’s so cool.” A few hours earlier, and Bailey would totally have been hoping Landon might invite him to see after they were done, but now he was more concerned with simply keeping Landon comfortable for the remainder of the shoot. Lower your expectations.
“Yeah. My friend Josiah is a developer there.” Landon stretched on his own, a ripple of movement that was utterly perfect, and Bailey held his breath as he captured the interplay between Landon’s bare frame and the iconic surroundings.
“Awesome. You ready to go to the science stacks?” Bailey knew in his gut that they weren’t getting a better shot in this location than the one he’d just captured.
“Gonna make me hold a stack of books in front of me?” Landon asked with a laugh. “That’d be a bit cliché, don’t you think?”
Actually, that had been what Bailey was thinking. “Nah. We’ll come up with something better than that. Get your robe on, and let’s switch locations.”
“Here you go.” Rachel was fast with the robe, and Landon wrapped it tightly around himself before turning back to fully face Bailey.
“That wasn’t too awful.” His grin was more genuine now, and Bailey wished he hadn’t set the camera aside. He had the barest hint of dimples, which was utterly captivating. Damn. It would be only too easy to fall for this guy and all his many sides—the witty email writer, the sarcastic friend, the quietly vulnerable man. And Bailey could not let that happen. He had to focus on his job, take the pictures, get out of this with heart intact. He needed to remind himself of Landon’s initial reaction—nothing good could come from crushing on a guy who wanted something different than Bailey could provide.
Annabeth Albert grew up sneaking romance novels under the bed covers. Now, she devours all subgenres of romance out in the open--no flashlights required! When she's not adding to her keeper shelf, she's a multi-published Pacific Northwest romance writer.
Emotionally complex, sexy, and funny stories are her favorites both to read and to write. Annabeth loves finding happy endings for a variety of pairings and is a passionate gay rights supporter. In between searching out dark heroes to redeem, she works a rewarding day job and wrangles two children.
Emotionally complex, sexy, and funny stories are her favorites both to read and to write. Annabeth loves finding happy endings for a variety of pairings and is a passionate gay rights supporter. In between searching out dark heroes to redeem, she works a rewarding day job and wrangles two children.
KOBO / GOOGLE PLAY / AUDIBLE / PATREON
EMAIL: Annabeth@annabethalbert.com
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