Sunday, March 2, 2025
🎬🎭Oscar Night 2025🎭🎬
Summary:
Nick Williams Mystery #2
Monday, May 18, 1953
Jeffrey Klein's love affair is heating up and Nick has to chase him down because, frankly, he needs a lawyer to set up his new business.
Oh, and Eddie Mannix at Metro is on the warpath and being a general pain in Nick’s ass.
After finding Jeffrey shacked up in a compromising position, Nick has to deal with his own personal mess when it comes to saying goodbye to an old flame.
After receiving a telegram asking for help, Nick and Carter end up flying south of the border, down Mexico way.
When they get there, they find a corrupt politician, a flirtatious police captain, and a woman terrified of an uncertain future and what it holds for her.
Original Review June 2024:
In The Amorous Attorney, we get to see a little more of what happened to Nick's attorney, Jeffrey Klein and his actor lover, Taylor Wells despite the studio's fixer, Eddie Mannix putting the kibosh to the affair. I won't spoil anything as certain parts of this journey are continued on from book 1, The Unexpected Heiress, and if you haven't read that one there are a few mentions here that could spoil that one. As you know this is a spoiler free zone.
Nick has issues to contend with that linger from book one as well so let's just say he needs his attorney. Nick and Carter find themselves on a little trip trying to figure out just what is going on. Do they? You'll have to read that for yourself but if you know Nick & Carter you know trouble just seems to find a way to their door. Will these troubles help or hamper their journey for answers? You know my answer to that.
Just know that despite finding more questions than answers at times, Nick & Carter and their ever growing friends and family never fail to entertain.
Blogger Note for 1-3:
I'm glad I went to the beginning because at least for the first 3 I had opportunity to read now, there is a few things that linger from one story to the next. Would you be lost? Not really as the author does a wonderful job keeping the reader in the know but I'm glad I read it this way and not just because I'm typically a series read-in-order gal. The overall feel just meshed so perfectly.
Summary:
Love at the Holidays
Will co-stars take their romance offscreen this Christmas?
Actor Ryan Drake is pining. He may get to kiss gorgeous Cary Holloway on the set of their hit sci-fi TV show, but he knows it’ll never happen in real life. Charming Cary—the son of Hollywood royalty—has a starlet girlfriend, and despite their sizzling onscreen chemistry, he and Ryan are just friends. Right?
But Christmas is a time for unexpected gifts, and Cary accepts Ryan’s last-minute invite to leave the palm trees behind and spend the holiday with the Drakes at their cabin in the Great White North.
Amid the snow and mistletoe, Ryan struggles to keep his longing under wraps. Little does he know, Cary’s coming to terms with his bisexuality and deep attraction to his co-star. Will these actors have the courage to make their romance real—or will it be only in their dreams?
Where the Lovelight Gleams is a gay Christmas romance from Keira Andrews featuring friends to lovers, bisexual awakening, snuggling by the fire, and of course a happy ending.
Sometimes the unexpected and never-imagined-possible can bring the most treasured gifts. Ryan and Cary definitely have chemistry onscreen but what Ryan discovers offscreen is what holiday romances are all about and Keira Andrews does it beautifully once again.
Summary:
Thomas Vale is one of Hollywood’s most sought-after actors. He’s as humble as they come and adores his family. This Christmas he wants to give his dying grandfather the only thing he’s ever asked Thomas for: for Thomas to fall in love.
Noah Berry has worked for Thomas since before he was a household name. He doesn’t have a close-knit family, but he’s fine with the way things are as long as he has Thomas. After all, Noah has been secretly in love with the man for years.
Thomas gets the crazy idea to bring a fake boyfriend home, but Christmas approaches and nobody is worthy enough to fulfill the task. Noah steps in—if he can’t have Thomas in real life, he can pretend for a little while and make an old man happy.
Davidson King does the holiday!! YUMMILICIOUS!!!!
Fake boyfriends✅
Unspoken love✅
Friends to lovers✅
Holiday-loving family✅
Romance✅
Humor✅
Heart✅
You're the One ticks all my holiday romance boxes. Thomas and Noah's Christmas journey may not have the mystery, violence, and action that Davidson King often brings to the page but that doesn't make it any less brilliant. Personally, I think those missing elements speak volumes to the incredible talent the author has for storytelling.
Knowing King's penchant for giving her couples a HEA, I think we can all guess where the men's journey ends up but the road they travel getting there is so much fun, so full of holiday spirit, so many edge of your seat smiles that I won't spoil it for anyone. Just know that you won't be bored, you won't be Bah Humbugging, you'll be Santa HO! HO! HO-ing! many hours after the final page.
If you're a fan of Hallmark Christmassy romances, not only will you love You're the One but you'll be blown away because IMO, King's holiday fare is 200% better. Some may call it "holiday schmaltz" but I call it "holiday heart". Davidson King may regret having written such a holiday gem because I am already highly anticipating next year's holiday story.
RATING:
Summary:
Winter Magic #1
Jason Walker is a child star turned teen heartthrob turned reluctant B-movie regular who’s sick of his failing career. So he gives up Hollywood for northern Idaho, far away from the press, the drama of L.A., and the best friend he’s secretly been in love with for years.
There’s only one problem with his new life: a strange young man only he can see is haunting his guesthouse. Except Benjamin Ward isn’t a ghost. He’s a man caught out of time, trapped since the Civil War in a magical prison where he can only watch the lives of those around him. He’s also sweet, funny, and cute as hell, with an affinity for cheesy ’80s TV shows. And he’s thrilled to finally have someone to talk to.
But Jason quickly discovers that spending all his time with a man nobody else can see or hear isn’t without its problems—especially when the tabloids find him again and make him front-page news. The local sheriff thinks he’s on drugs, and his best friend thinks he’s crazy. But Jason knows he hasn’t lost his mind. Too bad he can’t say the same thing about his heart.
(This title was originally released by Riptide Publishing.)
Such a unique idea. I've read stories where a building is haunted or a spirit is attached to an object and exists in the home it comes into but to live in the snowglobe and can only be so far from it was intriguing. Jason and Ben quickly burrowed it's way into my heart and it'll definitely be in my re-reading pile. Winter Oranges may be a Christmas story but it fits perfectly onto my paranormal shelf too.
Original Audiobook Review December 2020:
I'm not going to say that I forgot the ins and outs of this story because I didn't, how can one forget something really quite unique as I mentioned in the my original review? Nor did I forget how much I loved it, but it has been 5 years since I read it so even though the adrenaline rush I get from a first read wasn't there, Marie Sexton's words and Nick J Russo's narration had me enthralled almost as much as my original visit to Winter Oranges. I won't say anymore because though this is an older story, I'm sure there are those who have yet to find it and I don't want to spoil it for them. I will say that now that I have found it in audiobook form, it certainly won't be another 5 years before I follow Jason and Ben's journey. Definitely a win-win from beginning to end and whether you enjoy holiday stories or not, if you like an intriguing and reasonably unique tale of paranormal elements then Marie Sexton's Winter Oranges is not to be missed.
Summary:
Ellery Mountain #8
The hero is a sinner. The bad guy is a saint. And agreeing to sex for just a month turns everything else upside down.
Ben Rockwell, a former military medic, arrives in Ellery with a mission to establish a specialized unit for post-trauma care at the Veterans Center. Driven by a strong desire to rectify past battlefield decisions, he pours all his focus into this endeavor, disregarding everything else. However, his world takes an unexpected turn when a stranger moves in next door, throwing him off balance. Despite being hailed as a hero, Ben feels burdened by the weight of concealed truths, and knows he is anything but.
British actor, Nicholas Merrick, accused by the media of cheating on his fiancé and then coming out as gay flees from London, and seeks refuge in his friend’s house in small town Tennessee. He intends to remain hidden until the chaos in his past subsides. The choices he made in his life were motivated by protecting his best friend, but everyone has painted him as the villain. The moment Ben and Nicholas cross paths, they fall in lust, but is love possible for the sinning hero and the saintly bad boy?
Original Review May 2018:
Ben Rockwell comes to Ellery to work with the Veteran's Center his friend Daniel Skylar started to help make amends for battlefield decisions by working with the Center's residents. Nick Merrick has come to Ellery to escape the paparazzi and the scandal he created back in England. Ben and Nick find themselves in each other's orbits and despite their plans will a couple of hook-ups lead to more?
I've missed the Ellery universe and the men within its city limits and the thought that this is the last time we'll visit the area saddens me but if that truly is the case than RJ Scott left the city with a winner. Was The Saint & the Sinner as good as the other entries? Maybe not. Would I have liked to know more of Ben's Army pain? Sure. Would Nick's family's input made an impact? Probably. HOWEVER! As much as I may have liked to know more of Ben's battlefield pain I didn't need to know to feel his heartache. As much as I wanted to hear from Nick's family, it really wasn't about them, its about Nick and his need to find himself as well as help his friend Heather so it makes sense to hear from her dad and not his. Would I have added these things if this was my story? Maybe, but its not my story, it's RJ Scott's story and no one does it better.
As for the characters, I loved them both from the very beginning. I have to say that as much as I love the men together, one of my favorite scenes is Ben telling the one woman off in the checkout line. Despite the anger I felt at her words I found myself laughing as I pictured her face as Ben walked away. Its scenes like this that probably don't have much bearing on the main story that make RJ Scott's work so real and connectable for the reader. The same goes for Nick, his scene with Norma Jean shows us that he isn't just the spoiled son rebelling against the family grain, he is his own person trying to find his place. We may not meet these people every day but the author has a way that makes us want to know them.
As I said above, if this is truly the end of the Ellery men than it is a lovely exit. Who knows, maybe if we ask nicely we'll see them all again in one of RJ's lovely holiday stories, Christmas Comes to Ellery Mountain? 😉*hint hint* 😉 Whatever happens to the men, The Saint & the Sinner is a lovely read that brightened my day and I'm already looking forward to re-reading and re-visiting Ellery for years to come.
I've missed the Ellery universe and the men within its city limits and the thought that this is the last time we'll visit the area saddens me but if that truly is the case than RJ Scott left the city with a winner. Was The Saint & the Sinner as good as the other entries? Maybe not. Would I have liked to know more of Ben's Army pain? Sure. Would Nick's family's input made an impact? Probably. HOWEVER! As much as I may have liked to know more of Ben's battlefield pain I didn't need to know to feel his heartache. As much as I wanted to hear from Nick's family, it really wasn't about them, its about Nick and his need to find himself as well as help his friend Heather so it makes sense to hear from her dad and not his. Would I have added these things if this was my story? Maybe, but its not my story, it's RJ Scott's story and no one does it better.
As for the characters, I loved them both from the very beginning. I have to say that as much as I love the men together, one of my favorite scenes is Ben telling the one woman off in the checkout line. Despite the anger I felt at her words I found myself laughing as I pictured her face as Ben walked away. Its scenes like this that probably don't have much bearing on the main story that make RJ Scott's work so real and connectable for the reader. The same goes for Nick, his scene with Norma Jean shows us that he isn't just the spoiled son rebelling against the family grain, he is his own person trying to find his place. We may not meet these people every day but the author has a way that makes us want to know them.
As I said above, if this is truly the end of the Ellery men than it is a lovely exit. Who knows, maybe if we ask nicely we'll see them all again in one of RJ's lovely holiday stories, Christmas Comes to Ellery Mountain? 😉*hint hint* 😉 Whatever happens to the men, The Saint & the Sinner is a lovely read that brightened my day and I'm already looking forward to re-reading and re-visiting Ellery for years to come.
RATING:
The Amorous Attorney by Frank W Butterfield
Chapter 1
137 Hartford Street
San Francisco, Cal.
Monday, May 18, 1953
Mid-morning
From upstairs, I heard Carter banging around with something as he was coming in the front door. I knew he'd taken the Buick out to make a purchase on that Monday morning, but that's all I knew. I, on the other hand, had decided to take some time to actually do a little light housework so our sweet, charming bungalow didn't fall into utter ruin.
I called down, "Whatcha got there, big boy?"
All I got in response was a grunt.
I decided to let him play with his new toy, whatever it was.
Carter Jones was my husband. Or, at least that was the word we'd decided to try out. He was a big man, standing just about six inches taller than me at 6'4". He had sandy blond hair, green eyes, and a seductive Georgia drawl that he had brought with him to San Francisco in '39, when he and his best friend, Henry Winters, had driven an old Ford across the south, through the desert, and up the California coast.
After about twenty minutes of listening to him move things around, I decided I was as done as I was going to be. I also decided it was time to hire a housekeeper because neither of us was as good at it as a real professional would be. We'd long ago given up on the yard and hired a friend of a friend by the name of Manuel Perez to maintain the whole big mess that was now looking good and respectable.
As I stripped off my need-to-be-burned-now trousers and pulled off my shirt, I heard Carter hobbling up the stairs with his cane. A few months ago, Carter and a firetruck had a misunderstanding and his knee was the innocent victim in the fracas. The doctor had done a swell job of getting him mended and his cane did a swell job of getting him around. I was the primary beneficiary of all the weight lifting he was doing down in our basement in an effort to stay in tip-top form. And, boy, was it tip-top!
Finally rid of all my clothing, which was in a big pile in the corner of the bedroom, I reached into the shower and started the long process of bringing hot water to the second floor from the basement.
I heard Carter ridding himself of unnecessary clothes as well. Any clothes on him when we were alone always struck me as being completely unnecessary, but that was beside the point.
Or, at least, I thought it was beside the point until he stomped into the bathroom.
. . .
After once again draining the overworked hot water heater, we were soaping up each other in the walk-in shower.
"So, where'd you go this morning?" I asked.
"Not telling. There's a surprise for you downstairs and I think you'll like it."
I studied his back for a moment, tracing a line in the soap that was running down across various pronounced muscle groups.
Carter asked, "Has Jeffery called yet?"
"No. I talked to Robert about ten minutes before you came in." Robert was Jeffery's efficient receptionist. "No one at the office knows where is."
"Do you think he's shacked up somewhere with someone?"
I paused. That was my exact thought. And I couldn't tell Carter, at least not yet, who that someone was.
The mystery man was Taylor Wells, who was supposed to be on the lot that morning at Metro down in Culver City doing color tests for the movie he was filming, It Was Raining Then. I had a call in to Metro to see if Taylor was actually at work, but I doubted that would be the case.
Carter turned around and looked down at me, his eyes dancing with mischief.
"Are you going to tell me about it?"
I shook my head.
"I can get it outta you, if you want, son."
I wasn't sure if I wanted that or not. We did have a meeting at noon at my office.
"Can I get a rain-check on that?"
Carter ran his right hand along the left side of my face. "I dunno. You seem like you're almost ready to confess."
I shook my head. "We have that meeting at the office. How would it look if the C.E.O. and Chief Fire Investigator were late on the first day?"
On the previous Friday night and into Saturday morning, we had come up with a plan to salvage the careers of Carter Jones (my husband and current shower buddy), Mike Robertson (formerly of the San Francisco Police Department), Ben White (also a former policeman), and Carlo Martinelli (a former fireman).
Technically, Mike, Ben, and Carlo were just on suspension, but it was indefinite and without pay and likely to become permanent. Carter was now a former fireman, having been plain fired by the Mayor of our fair city at the same time the others were suspended.
This all happened because, on Friday night at dinner, I was an idiot and told off George Hearst, son of William Randolph Hearst, who was on the board of the Hearst Corporation which published The San Francisco Examiner. He deserved being told off because Hearst and the Examiner seemed to think that it was a good business decision to sell papers on the backs of unfortunate homosexual men whose ruined lives were certain once their names, addresses, and places of employment were on page one of that yellow rag.
Of course, George Hearst was just following in the footsteps of his father. From the sinking of the Maine to the internment of innocent Nisei, those Americans of Japanese descent whose lives and property had been unjustly destroyed, there really wasn't a bad idea that the Hearst papers didn't support.
The only person who seemed to be really happy about my public scandal was my evil father who, for the first time in his life, had looked at me with something like pride when Carter had told him the story. Parnell Robert Williams was no saint, by any stretch of the imagination, so he loved seeing a pompous man like George Hearst get his, and in public.
Unlike my father, I did give a rat's ass about how this event might affect other people. We'd run into a blitz of photographers after the encounter happened. Our faces were plastered over all the papers the next morning, so now all was known. As a result, four men, good and true, had been relieved of their civic duties because they were now known to be associates of yours truly, an avowed homosexual. So I had decided that I needed to come up with an idea that would turn this around from a disaster into, perhaps, the start of something good.
My idea was to create a new kind of business, focused on security. Even today, dripping wet in front of the most beautiful man in North America, I still wasn't sure what this business would become.
However, as Carter had pointed out to me on Saturday, Mike seemed to know. He had run with the idea at my suggestion. He was the President of our little outfit. Or, he would be, if we could ever find the lawyer whose job it would be to draw up all the necessary papers.
At the moment, however, Jeffery Klein, Esquire, was missing, and presumed in flagrante delicto with America's new favorite leading man, Taylor Wells.
Carter was still looking at me. If the water hadn't been running, I thought the room might explode, his eyes were smoldering so intensely.
I just smiled up at him and said, "We need a new water heater."
He gave me his slow Georgia smile.
. . .
At a quarter after noon, we both waltzed in the door of my office on Bush Street. Marnie looked at me and asked, "Late on the first day, Nick?"
I took off my hat and held it in both hands, pretending to be penitent.
"It's all Carter's fault."
He was standing behind me, so I couldn't see the face he made at Marnie, but she blushed and started to giggle.
Marnie Wilson was my steadfast secretary. She paid the bills, answered the phone when it actually rang, and could knit a sweater faster than any human should be able to. Up to this point, I'd usually turned away more business than I took in, so I had a couple of those sweaters in my closet.
When I was 21, I'd inherited a massive trust from my great-uncle, Paul Williams, who put the word "Gay" in "The Gay Nineties" that San Francisco was famous for. He tended to make money in any financial climate, so I had more money to my name than I could spend in ten lifetimes. Much of it was now working for the public good in the Williams Benevolent Foundation.
But I still had loads of it, and it was getting bigger on its own thanks to the fine men at the Bank of America, so I didn't need the work. I turned away the clients who came in that I didn't like. This was very annoying to the much put-upon Marnie.
But that might be changing today at the formation of Consolidated Security, our new venture and the topic of this meeting.
I asked Marnie, "Have you had any calls from Jeffery's office?"
She shook her head. "No. You want I should call down there again?"
I said, "No. Poor Robert doesn't need us calling him every thirty minutes."
Turning to Carter, I asked, "Can you go in there with the boys for a minute?"
"What? Secrets from one of your business partners? Already?"
His eyes danced and I tried not to blush. I was good at holding a stony face when I needed. But not with Carter Jones, never with Carter Jones.
I said, "This isn't Consolidated business. This is Nick Williams, Private Investigator, business."
He nodded, took off his hat, and hobbled into my office with his cane, closing the door behind him. I tried not to watch him too intently since, even with a bum knee, he was the sexiest thing on two legs.
I pulled up the extra chair and sat down next to Marnie. Speaking softly, I asked, "Did Metro call?"
She nodded. "He hasn't been on the lot today. They wondered if you knew where he might be."
"What'd you tell them?"
"That you would call them when you got in."
I nodded and asked, "Can you call down there and get whoever it was on the phone?"
Marnie pursed her lips. "You ain't gonna like it, Nick."
I rolled my eyes. "Mannix?"
"Yeah. And his instructions were clear. Call him and only him."
I took a deep breath and said, "Well, hell. Call the S.O.B. and let's get this over with."
Eddie Mannix was Metro's fixer. He got their stars and starlets out of any mess they got into, including dalliances with members of the same sex. He hated all things fag and fairy and was always very clear about this fact with me, personally. I had come down hard on him last Wednesday about his own dalliances with a mistress. And that had not gone over very well.
Marnie picked up the handset and dialed the operator. "Long distance, please." There was a pause. "Culver City. Vermont 7336. Person-to-person for Mr. Mannix from Mr. Williams. Time and charges."
I looked at Marnie. "Do you always ask for time and charges?"
She put her hand over the mouthpiece. "I do, Nick. I write it down and always compare it to the bill."
I was fascinated by her efficiency. I would've just paid the damn bill. And probably been late.
"Ever been wrong?" I asked, meaning the bill. I knew Marnie was never wrong.
"Four times this year."
I tilted my head. "But it's only May."
She nodded. "Exactly."
I smiled at her. "You're the tops, Marnie."
"I try—" She took her hand off the phone. "Yes, please. Thank you, Operator." She put down the receiver. "He ain't in. But the operator will try again in thirty minutes."
I stood up. "Well, Madame Secretary, are you ready?"
Marnie gathered her steno pad, two sharpened pencils, and stood up. "Yeah, Nick."
"Let's go."
Where the Lovelight Gleams by Keira Andrews
Chest heaving, Ryan slammed the door behind him and leaned against it. “I should’ve just kept my big mouth shut,” he muttered. “He’s never going to like me the way I like him. God, I’m such an idiot!”
Pounding footsteps preceded a forceful knock. Ryan waited, breath lodged in his throat.
Cary’s voice rang out. “I know you’re in there. Open the door! Please.”
Ryan ran a hand through his hair, then took a deep breath and blew it out. Trying to appear utterly calm, he twisted the doorknob and stepped aside as Cary rushed in.
“Didn’t you hear me calling?” Cary was slightly breathless, his brow furrowed.
“No.” Ryan tried to smile. “Sorry. Do you need something?”
“Do I...” Cary shook his head incredulously. “What I need is for you to talk to me. I heard what you said to Dara.”
Blood rushed to Ryan’s cheeks, and he laughed, although it came out as more of a squeak. “Oh that? I was just kidding around.”
“Kidding around.” Cary didn’t sound convinced. “So you’re not in love with me?”
“I...” Ryan swallowed, his throat suddenly dry. “It was a joke.”
“A joke.” Cary stepped forward, backing him up against the closed door.
Ryan jerked his head in a nod.
Cary was now less than a foot away. He was a few inches taller, and his broad shoulders tapered down to a narrow waist, his body muscular yet lean. Short light blond hair swept up from his forehead, and his green eyes were intense as he watched Ryan. This close, Ryan could see the flecks of gold in Cary’s eyes, and his heart skipped a beat. God, he’s so beautiful.
“That’s too bad, because I’ve been in love with you for months.”
Ryan’s eyes widened. “But that’s...impossible.”
“Shut up and kiss me.”
With that, Cary closed the gap between them, taking Ryan’s face in his hands as he pressed their lips together. Their mouths opened as they kissed passionately. Ryan’s pulse raced, excitement skipping up his spine as he yanked Cary against him, their bodies--
“Cut!”
Cary broke the kiss and stepped back. He looked to the director. “Go again?”
The director nodded. “Good kiss. But give me a little more on the ‘I heard what you said to Dara’ line.” She focused on Ryan. “You’re playing it just right. Great trembling in your hands. Just need to get some more sweat on your brow. You’re supposed to have just run from the air lock, and it’s a big ship.”
As the assistant director called for makeup to bring their spray bottle, the crew prepared for another take. Cary grinned at Ryan, and dimples appeared in his cheeks. “Sorry, think I slipped a little tongue in there.”
Yes, you did, and God I want more. Ignoring the desire thrumming through his veins, Ryan waved it off. “That was a good take.” It was their fourth, and he’d hoped it would get easier as the day went on. Instead his yearning for Cary increased each time their lips met. Despite the twenty-five bored crew members watching, when Cary kissed him, everything else faded away.
After fantasizing about being with Cary for the past year, Ryan had told himself that the reality--even if it was fictional and not real--would be a huge disappointment. On-screen kissing was supposed to be awkward and uncomfortable and epically unsexy. And in Ryan’s experience it always had been.
Until now.
He wasn’t supposed to breathe in the citrus of Cary’s aftershave and feel desire coiling in his belly. He wasn’t supposed to notice how thick Cary’s eyelashes were, and how the gold in his eyes matched his hair. His knees weren’t supposed to go weak because Cary’s kisses were warm and wet and tasted like honey and promised so much more.
“Let’s just hope the network censors don’t look too closely. I swear, straight couples can practically get naked on screen, but gay characters...” Cary shook his head. “Drives me nuts. Hey, did you hear anything more from that hate group who sent the nasty letters?”
“Nah. I think Tammy took care of making sure my mail is examined more closely. It’s no big deal.”
Cary huffed. “No big deal? You shouldn’t ever have to hear that kind of garbage. You’ll tell me if it happens again, right?”
“What are you going to do? Beat them up?” Ryan secretly loved Cary’s protectiveness. He smiled and nudged Cary with his elbow. “Besides, now that they’re finally putting Steven and Kishi together, you’ll probably start getting your own hate mail.”
Cary still frowned. “Yeah, but it’s not the same. Everyone knows I’m not gay in real life.” He scoffed. “No way a tough guy like my dad would ever have a gay son. No one would believe it even if it was true.”
“Yeah.” Ryan stopped himself before his brain went too far down the “what if” road. “By the way, your scales are coming loose a bit on your neck.”
“Crap. I keep sweating them off.”
As the makeup team sprayed fake sweat onto Ryan’s forehead and touched up the purple scales crawling up the side of Cary’s neck and across one cheek, Ryan breathed deeply. He reminded himself that none of it was real. Cary’s declaration of love and his kiss that left Ryan buzzing--it was all for the cameras. Nothing more.
So he should stop remembering the press of Cary’s body and how his firm muscles had felt beneath Ryan’s hands. Ryan was in good shape himself, but he was positively ordinary next to Cary’s golden handsomeness and toned, perfect body. Not too bulky, but just right. As Cary tipped his head to give the makeup artist better access to his neck, Ryan imagined kissing him there, sucking on the tender skin and--
One of the show’s publicists approached, her heels clacking across the spaceship set. “How are we today, gentlemen?”
Ryan smiled. “Hey, Tammy. We’re good.”
“Excellent. The reporter from Out and Proud will be here in an hour. He wanted to see the kiss filmed, but as you know we’re keeping the set closed. If anyone leaks this kiss before the episode, I will eat their lungs for breakfast.”
Cary smirked. “And their balls for lunch?”
“Nope. Balls are for second breakfast.” Tammy winked.
The director called out, “Places everyone.”
Fake sweat artfully moistening his dark hair where it fell across his forehead, Ryan took his position to run into Steven’s room once more. Part of him hoped the director would want dozens of takes, but he wasn’t sure how much longer he could keep himself in check. He’d worn extra-tight briefs to keep from embarrassing himself, but his one-piece bodysuit costume didn’t leave much to the imagination.
The second assistant cameraman clapped down the slate in front of the camera. “Space Academy, two-twelve, scene nine, take five.”
Silence settled over the set, and the director yelled, “Action!”
As he ran and slammed the door once more, Ryan’s heart pounded anew, and he couldn’t help but look forward to Cary’s next kiss.
* * * *
After leaving his trailer, Ryan almost walked straight into Tammy, who tapped a manicured nail on her watch. “You’re five minutes late.”
“Actually, I’m three and a half minutes late, but I had to go to the bathroom. Besides, actors are supposed to be late. And/or hungover.”
Tammy laughed and tucked a red curl behind her ear. “You haven’t reached that phase of your career yet. Talk to me when this show has garnered more than a cult following and you’ve made at least one successful slasher flick during hiatus.”
Cary was already seated in a director’s chair on the command deck of the set, which wasn’t being used for filming that day. It was little more than a Star Trek rip-off, but there were only so many layouts of a spaceship that worked well for filming. Cary still wore his dark green one-piece costume, but the top half pooled around his waist, and he wore a white T-shirt.
It was a V-neck, and Ryan tried not to look at Cary’s light chest hair poking out. He wondered for the hundredth time what it would be like to run his fingers through it and taste Cary’s nipples and--
Never. Going. To happen.
With a smile on his face, Ryan sat in the empty chair beside Cary and shook hands with the reporter seated across from them. Tammy lingered in the background by the space-thruster control station.
The chubby, middle-aged reporter smiled. “Hi, I’m Chuck Basilica from Out and Proud. Thanks for meeting with me today.”
“I’m Ryan Drake. It’s our pleasure,” Ryan answered. He and Cary had done a ton of press for the show at the upfronts in May, and they had a system down pat. They’d alternate answering questions, share a few amusing anecdotes, and generally be their most humble, charming selves.
Of course now that their story line was heating up, the gay press was taking interest. Chuck didn’t waste any time.
“Rumor has it the sexual tension between Steven and Kishi is going to move from subtext to text during February sweeps. You’ll be the first gay human/alien love story on American network TV. Is this true?”
Cary answered. “Well, we’re definitely exploring our characters in greater depth this season, and relationships between many of the cadets will be evolving.”
“Hmm. That sounds like a yes to me.” Chuck smiled.
Ryan smiled back. “All we can say is that fans should keep watching, because there’s some great stuff coming up for Steven and Kishi.”
“Fair enough. Now, were you both surprised at how quickly fans embraced your characters? Individually, but especially as a potential couple. There are quite a few ‘Stishi’ fansites out there.”
“I think we were both surprised, and of course it’s an honor,” Cary replied. “I mean, we were just happy our little midseason replacement show got a pickup for season two, and that viewers took to it so passionately. We may not get the highest ratings, but the fans are extremely vocal and loyal. The best in the world. We feel so blessed to be a part of Space Academy.”
“Let’s talk about your careers for a moment.” Chuck glanced at his notepad. “Cary, of course you’re part of a Hollywood dynasty. You were named after family friend Cary Grant, isn’t that right?”
He smiled. “That’s right. I only hope I can have a career half as incredible as his.”
“Your father and grandfather made their mark in action and adventure movies, while you’ve focused more on drama and now sci-fi. Do you feel any pressure to live up to their legacy?”
Cary’s smile didn’t falter, but Ryan noticed the way Cary’s jaw flexed briefly, his shoulders tightening. “Only in the best way. I’m so proud of Dad and Grandpa, and they’ve always been so supportive of me.”
As Cary went on about his family, telling the public what they wanted to hear, Ryan put on his best listening face. He remembered the first little cast get-together at the exec producer’s house one night in the Hollywood Hills. Ryan had gone outside to get some air and stumbled across Cary on the phone with his father.
“But, Dad, it’s a good show. Plenty of movie actors are doing TV now. It’s not the way it was before. It’s a great part! I want to do it. Besides, I can’t exactly turn down steady work.”
Cary paused, and Ryan could hear Robert Holloway’s raised voice through the phone but couldn’t make out what he was saying.
Cary went on, “I want to make my own way. I can have a good career in TV. Maybe do some theater in the summers. I think it’s worth a shot.” He paused again. “Well, I’m sorry you feel that way, but I guess you’re used to disappointment by now, aren’t you?”
Ryan tried to back away without being heard but of course promptly tripped on the leg of a deck chair, sending it clattering.
Cary whirled. “Dad, I’ve gotta go.” He hung up and eyed Ryan cautiously. “Hey. Look, if you could just forget you heard any of that...”
“Heard what?” Ryan raised his hands. “I didn’t hear a thing.”
The tension in Cary’s face relaxed. “Thanks, man. Ryan, right? I think we have a couple of scenes together in the pilot.”
“Yeah, we do. You want to run lines this weekend?”
Cary smiled, his eyes crinkling. “Absolutely.”
Now, almost two years after they met, Cary was just about Ryan’s favorite person in the world. Of course Cary was straight, and they’d never be anything more than friends. Which was totally fine with Ryan. Well, not totally fine. But he was working on it.
“And let’s talk about your background, Ryan. You’re from Toronto. How has it been adjusting to life in La-La Land?”
“I’ve lived here for a few years now. There are always great things about any city, and LA has so much to offer. It was a bit of a culture shock, but being close to the beach sure helps.”
“You came out while you were still in Toronto performing in a local production of Rent. You mentioned having lunch with your boyfriend in an interview, and when Space Academy premiered, many bloggers and gossip sites picked up on the old article. Do you regret coming out so early in your career? Do you think you’ll get pigeonholed?”
He’d expected the question, so Ryan resisted the urge to sigh long-sufferingly. He wished it didn’t come up in every interview. “No, I don’t regret it at all. I’ve been out since my senior year of high school. It’s just who I am, and I don’t think it’s impacted my career negatively. I played a straight character in a movie during summer hiatus.” He shrugged. “All I can do is give the best performances I can and hope to continue to have opportunities.”
Cary interjected, his tone firm. “I think Ryan is an inspiration to other gay actors. And straight actors, for that matter. Someone’s sexuality shouldn’t matter in this day and age. He’s an amazing artist and person.”
Warmth bloomed in Ryan’s chest. “I’m lucky that Cary and everyone here at Space Academy are completely supportive. I hope that we’ll get to the point one day when it won’t be a big deal anymore.”
“I hope so too,” Chuck replied. “So are you seeing anyone, Ryan?”
“No, there’s no one special right now.” No one I can actually date, that is.
“Cary, you’ve been seeing Succubus High star Amanda Walker for over a year now. Any wedding bells in the future?”
Cary chuckled. “We’ll have to see. Amanda’s a great girl.”
Actually, Amanda’s a high-maintenance pain in the ass. Ryan kept a pleasant expression on his face. It wasn’t that he was jealous or anything. Okay, maybe he was. But Cary deserved so much more than her. He reminded himself that it wasn’t as if Amanda Walker was the only thing standing between him and Cary. She was irrelevant. Cary was straight. The end.
“You guys are both twenty-five now. How does it feel to be playing high school students?”
Ryan chuckled. “Well, I don’t think we’re the oldest actors to play teenagers.”
“With his big brown doe eyes and baby face, I think he’ll be playing a high schooler for at least five more years.” Cary laughed, eyes crinkling.
“But we love our roles,” Ryan added. “High school--whether here on Earth or orbiting the fifth moon of the newly discovered planet Alida--is so rife with drama and potential for character growth.”
Chuck’s eyebrow popped up. “Ah yes. Such as discovering one’s sexuality?”
Cary and Ryan shared a glance and a smile. Cary answered. “That is a common theme, Chuck. I think our fans are really going to enjoy our characters’ arcs as this season continues in the new year.”
Tammy cleared her throat. “I’m afraid we have to end things there. Ryan and Cary are needed back on set.”
They said good-bye to Chuck, and Ryan checked his call sheet. The next scene was an “intimate moment” between Steven and Kishi. No kiss, but they’d both be shirtless and playing a particularly close game of imperia, a basketball-ish game. The scene was early in the episode, before their kiss, and Steven would be barely able to contain his attraction to Kishi.
Ryan took a fortifying breath as he headed back to set. He didn’t think of himself as a Method actor, but he was certainly living and breathing his character’s emotions these days.
* * * *
With a sigh, Ryan popped open a can of soda as he sat back on the couch in his trailer. He still had one more scene to shoot, and it was going to be a long day. As he picked up the TV remote, there was a knock on the door.
His heart stupidly skipped a beat when he found Cary waiting outside. “Hey, man! I’m wrapped. Just wanted to say merry Christmas and all that.”
Ryan ushered him in and handed him a bottle of water from the fridge since Cary didn’t drink soda. That was just one of the reasons he’d been featured on the cover of Men’s Health and Ryan never would be. Ryan worked out and kept trim and healthy, but he wasn’t a heartthrob like Cary.
“Big plans for the holidays?” Ryan asked. “Will you be with your mom or dad?”
“Neither. Dad’s in Thailand shooting another sequel to Blowing Shit Up.”
Ryan laughed. “Is this Strike Back part four?”
“Yep. The world’s appetite for explosions and cheap one-liners continues unabated.” He flopped down on the couch. “Besides, my stepmother’s with him, and I can’t deal with her. She seriously tried to give me parental advice at Thanksgiving.”
Ryan sat beside Cary and swung his feet up onto the low coffee table. Most movie stars would sniff at his small oak-paneled trailer, but with a sofa bed, shower, toilet, and kitchenette, the twelve-foot space was luxury for Ryan. He still wasn’t used to being waited on, and at first the trailer had seemed unnecessary. But for the long days of shooting, he was very glad to have it.
“Tell me you’re exaggerating.”
Cary took a swig of water. “I wish. No, it seems that in Janelle’s twenty impressive years here on Earth, she’s learned a lot. She was quite put out that I didn’t want the benefit of her extensive knowledge when picking my hiatus project.”
“Wow. Okay, so what’s your mom doing for Christmas?”
“She’ll be in Hawaii. I’d go, but Amanda booked us into a spa for a cleanse.”
“A cleanse? For Christmas?”
Cary grimaced. “Yeah, nothing but lettuce and lemon water or something. Oh and pepper or hot sauce, I think. Yum. It’s in the desert near Palm Springs. Lots of yoga and massage, at least.”
“And starvation. No turkey? No stuffing? No cookies? It’s just not Christmas without a ton of fattening food.”
“Eh, it’s no big deal.” Cary shrugged. “I’ve never really had a real Christmas. Growing up, my parents were always getting married and divorced, and they vacationed in the tropics. A white Christmas and the family all together is just something I saw on TV.”
Ryan’s jaw dropped. “You’ve never had snow at Christmas?” He realized he was practically shouting and flushed at his overreaction. “Sorry. Christmas has always been my favorite holiday.”
“The most wonderful time of the year? Well, you’re Canadian, so it’s understandable,” Cary replied playfully. His smile faded. “Nah, Christmas was just never a big deal. I got presents and everything, but it’s never been a big special day with walking in a winter wonderland and all that.”
“I’m sorry.” Cary seemed uncharacteristically melancholy about it. “Hey, you’re more than welcome to join me and my family in the Great White North.”
To Ryan’s surprise, Cary’s face lit up. “Really?”
The invite had slipped out, and he hadn’t really been serious, but the thought of actually spending Christmas with Cary had Ryan’s stomach flip-flopping. “Of course. I’m flying home tomorrow, and we’re going up to our cottage on Friday. More snow than you can shake a stick at.” He knew he should limit the time he spent with Cary off set, but... But I can still look even if I can’t touch.
Again, Cary’s smile disappeared, and he slumped back against the cushions. “Man, I wish I could, but Amanda will kill me if I try to back out of the spa. Besides, I wouldn’t want to intrude on you and your family.”
“It wouldn’t be an intrusion at all. My parents keep saying they want to meet you. You’re my best friend out here.”
Cary’s expression was unreadable. Pleased, maybe? “Really? Thanks, man. That’s nice to hear. You know you’re my boy too.” He punched Ryan’s shoulder lightly.
Ryan cleared his throat and pretended his whole body wasn’t on fire. “Well, the invitation stands if you change your mind.”
They smiled awkwardly at each other. Things had always been totally comfortable between them, but now that they’d kissed on set, Ryan felt on edge. If he relaxed, he was afraid he’d do something that would cross the boundaries without even thinking about it. Now any kind of touch barring a shoulder punch seemed too intimate. He’s not your boyfriend. It’s all pretend.
Their eyes met, and Ryan swore a current surged between them, shooting up his spine and then right down to his dick. Cary licked his lips, and they stared at each other in the silence. Ryan could feel the heat from Cary’s body beside him on the couch, and Cary seemed to be leaning into him.
A soft knock on the door was followed by a PA calling out, “Ryan? We’re ready for you.”
The strange mood broken, Cary drained his bottle. “See ya next year.” He stood, then pulled Ryan up into a straight-guy hug, slapping his back with a thump.
“Right, see you next year. Merry Christmas.”
As he walked to set, Ryan decided it was a good thing they had three weeks until they had to be back in the second week of January. Time to get this crush on Cary under control. Between work and their friendship, they had a good thing going, and Ryan was damned if he was going to mess that up.
Pounding footsteps preceded a forceful knock. Ryan waited, breath lodged in his throat.
Cary’s voice rang out. “I know you’re in there. Open the door! Please.”
Ryan ran a hand through his hair, then took a deep breath and blew it out. Trying to appear utterly calm, he twisted the doorknob and stepped aside as Cary rushed in.
“Didn’t you hear me calling?” Cary was slightly breathless, his brow furrowed.
“No.” Ryan tried to smile. “Sorry. Do you need something?”
“Do I...” Cary shook his head incredulously. “What I need is for you to talk to me. I heard what you said to Dara.”
Blood rushed to Ryan’s cheeks, and he laughed, although it came out as more of a squeak. “Oh that? I was just kidding around.”
“Kidding around.” Cary didn’t sound convinced. “So you’re not in love with me?”
“I...” Ryan swallowed, his throat suddenly dry. “It was a joke.”
“A joke.” Cary stepped forward, backing him up against the closed door.
Ryan jerked his head in a nod.
Cary was now less than a foot away. He was a few inches taller, and his broad shoulders tapered down to a narrow waist, his body muscular yet lean. Short light blond hair swept up from his forehead, and his green eyes were intense as he watched Ryan. This close, Ryan could see the flecks of gold in Cary’s eyes, and his heart skipped a beat. God, he’s so beautiful.
“That’s too bad, because I’ve been in love with you for months.”
Ryan’s eyes widened. “But that’s...impossible.”
“Shut up and kiss me.”
With that, Cary closed the gap between them, taking Ryan’s face in his hands as he pressed their lips together. Their mouths opened as they kissed passionately. Ryan’s pulse raced, excitement skipping up his spine as he yanked Cary against him, their bodies--
“Cut!”
Cary broke the kiss and stepped back. He looked to the director. “Go again?”
The director nodded. “Good kiss. But give me a little more on the ‘I heard what you said to Dara’ line.” She focused on Ryan. “You’re playing it just right. Great trembling in your hands. Just need to get some more sweat on your brow. You’re supposed to have just run from the air lock, and it’s a big ship.”
As the assistant director called for makeup to bring their spray bottle, the crew prepared for another take. Cary grinned at Ryan, and dimples appeared in his cheeks. “Sorry, think I slipped a little tongue in there.”
Yes, you did, and God I want more. Ignoring the desire thrumming through his veins, Ryan waved it off. “That was a good take.” It was their fourth, and he’d hoped it would get easier as the day went on. Instead his yearning for Cary increased each time their lips met. Despite the twenty-five bored crew members watching, when Cary kissed him, everything else faded away.
After fantasizing about being with Cary for the past year, Ryan had told himself that the reality--even if it was fictional and not real--would be a huge disappointment. On-screen kissing was supposed to be awkward and uncomfortable and epically unsexy. And in Ryan’s experience it always had been.
Until now.
He wasn’t supposed to breathe in the citrus of Cary’s aftershave and feel desire coiling in his belly. He wasn’t supposed to notice how thick Cary’s eyelashes were, and how the gold in his eyes matched his hair. His knees weren’t supposed to go weak because Cary’s kisses were warm and wet and tasted like honey and promised so much more.
“Let’s just hope the network censors don’t look too closely. I swear, straight couples can practically get naked on screen, but gay characters...” Cary shook his head. “Drives me nuts. Hey, did you hear anything more from that hate group who sent the nasty letters?”
“Nah. I think Tammy took care of making sure my mail is examined more closely. It’s no big deal.”
Cary huffed. “No big deal? You shouldn’t ever have to hear that kind of garbage. You’ll tell me if it happens again, right?”
“What are you going to do? Beat them up?” Ryan secretly loved Cary’s protectiveness. He smiled and nudged Cary with his elbow. “Besides, now that they’re finally putting Steven and Kishi together, you’ll probably start getting your own hate mail.”
Cary still frowned. “Yeah, but it’s not the same. Everyone knows I’m not gay in real life.” He scoffed. “No way a tough guy like my dad would ever have a gay son. No one would believe it even if it was true.”
“Yeah.” Ryan stopped himself before his brain went too far down the “what if” road. “By the way, your scales are coming loose a bit on your neck.”
“Crap. I keep sweating them off.”
As the makeup team sprayed fake sweat onto Ryan’s forehead and touched up the purple scales crawling up the side of Cary’s neck and across one cheek, Ryan breathed deeply. He reminded himself that none of it was real. Cary’s declaration of love and his kiss that left Ryan buzzing--it was all for the cameras. Nothing more.
So he should stop remembering the press of Cary’s body and how his firm muscles had felt beneath Ryan’s hands. Ryan was in good shape himself, but he was positively ordinary next to Cary’s golden handsomeness and toned, perfect body. Not too bulky, but just right. As Cary tipped his head to give the makeup artist better access to his neck, Ryan imagined kissing him there, sucking on the tender skin and--
One of the show’s publicists approached, her heels clacking across the spaceship set. “How are we today, gentlemen?”
Ryan smiled. “Hey, Tammy. We’re good.”
“Excellent. The reporter from Out and Proud will be here in an hour. He wanted to see the kiss filmed, but as you know we’re keeping the set closed. If anyone leaks this kiss before the episode, I will eat their lungs for breakfast.”
Cary smirked. “And their balls for lunch?”
“Nope. Balls are for second breakfast.” Tammy winked.
The director called out, “Places everyone.”
Fake sweat artfully moistening his dark hair where it fell across his forehead, Ryan took his position to run into Steven’s room once more. Part of him hoped the director would want dozens of takes, but he wasn’t sure how much longer he could keep himself in check. He’d worn extra-tight briefs to keep from embarrassing himself, but his one-piece bodysuit costume didn’t leave much to the imagination.
The second assistant cameraman clapped down the slate in front of the camera. “Space Academy, two-twelve, scene nine, take five.”
Silence settled over the set, and the director yelled, “Action!”
As he ran and slammed the door once more, Ryan’s heart pounded anew, and he couldn’t help but look forward to Cary’s next kiss.
* * * *
After leaving his trailer, Ryan almost walked straight into Tammy, who tapped a manicured nail on her watch. “You’re five minutes late.”
“Actually, I’m three and a half minutes late, but I had to go to the bathroom. Besides, actors are supposed to be late. And/or hungover.”
Tammy laughed and tucked a red curl behind her ear. “You haven’t reached that phase of your career yet. Talk to me when this show has garnered more than a cult following and you’ve made at least one successful slasher flick during hiatus.”
Cary was already seated in a director’s chair on the command deck of the set, which wasn’t being used for filming that day. It was little more than a Star Trek rip-off, but there were only so many layouts of a spaceship that worked well for filming. Cary still wore his dark green one-piece costume, but the top half pooled around his waist, and he wore a white T-shirt.
It was a V-neck, and Ryan tried not to look at Cary’s light chest hair poking out. He wondered for the hundredth time what it would be like to run his fingers through it and taste Cary’s nipples and--
Never. Going. To happen.
With a smile on his face, Ryan sat in the empty chair beside Cary and shook hands with the reporter seated across from them. Tammy lingered in the background by the space-thruster control station.
The chubby, middle-aged reporter smiled. “Hi, I’m Chuck Basilica from Out and Proud. Thanks for meeting with me today.”
“I’m Ryan Drake. It’s our pleasure,” Ryan answered. He and Cary had done a ton of press for the show at the upfronts in May, and they had a system down pat. They’d alternate answering questions, share a few amusing anecdotes, and generally be their most humble, charming selves.
Of course now that their story line was heating up, the gay press was taking interest. Chuck didn’t waste any time.
“Rumor has it the sexual tension between Steven and Kishi is going to move from subtext to text during February sweeps. You’ll be the first gay human/alien love story on American network TV. Is this true?”
Cary answered. “Well, we’re definitely exploring our characters in greater depth this season, and relationships between many of the cadets will be evolving.”
“Hmm. That sounds like a yes to me.” Chuck smiled.
Ryan smiled back. “All we can say is that fans should keep watching, because there’s some great stuff coming up for Steven and Kishi.”
“Fair enough. Now, were you both surprised at how quickly fans embraced your characters? Individually, but especially as a potential couple. There are quite a few ‘Stishi’ fansites out there.”
“I think we were both surprised, and of course it’s an honor,” Cary replied. “I mean, we were just happy our little midseason replacement show got a pickup for season two, and that viewers took to it so passionately. We may not get the highest ratings, but the fans are extremely vocal and loyal. The best in the world. We feel so blessed to be a part of Space Academy.”
“Let’s talk about your careers for a moment.” Chuck glanced at his notepad. “Cary, of course you’re part of a Hollywood dynasty. You were named after family friend Cary Grant, isn’t that right?”
He smiled. “That’s right. I only hope I can have a career half as incredible as his.”
“Your father and grandfather made their mark in action and adventure movies, while you’ve focused more on drama and now sci-fi. Do you feel any pressure to live up to their legacy?”
Cary’s smile didn’t falter, but Ryan noticed the way Cary’s jaw flexed briefly, his shoulders tightening. “Only in the best way. I’m so proud of Dad and Grandpa, and they’ve always been so supportive of me.”
As Cary went on about his family, telling the public what they wanted to hear, Ryan put on his best listening face. He remembered the first little cast get-together at the exec producer’s house one night in the Hollywood Hills. Ryan had gone outside to get some air and stumbled across Cary on the phone with his father.
“But, Dad, it’s a good show. Plenty of movie actors are doing TV now. It’s not the way it was before. It’s a great part! I want to do it. Besides, I can’t exactly turn down steady work.”
Cary paused, and Ryan could hear Robert Holloway’s raised voice through the phone but couldn’t make out what he was saying.
Cary went on, “I want to make my own way. I can have a good career in TV. Maybe do some theater in the summers. I think it’s worth a shot.” He paused again. “Well, I’m sorry you feel that way, but I guess you’re used to disappointment by now, aren’t you?”
Ryan tried to back away without being heard but of course promptly tripped on the leg of a deck chair, sending it clattering.
Cary whirled. “Dad, I’ve gotta go.” He hung up and eyed Ryan cautiously. “Hey. Look, if you could just forget you heard any of that...”
“Heard what?” Ryan raised his hands. “I didn’t hear a thing.”
The tension in Cary’s face relaxed. “Thanks, man. Ryan, right? I think we have a couple of scenes together in the pilot.”
“Yeah, we do. You want to run lines this weekend?”
Cary smiled, his eyes crinkling. “Absolutely.”
Now, almost two years after they met, Cary was just about Ryan’s favorite person in the world. Of course Cary was straight, and they’d never be anything more than friends. Which was totally fine with Ryan. Well, not totally fine. But he was working on it.
“And let’s talk about your background, Ryan. You’re from Toronto. How has it been adjusting to life in La-La Land?”
“I’ve lived here for a few years now. There are always great things about any city, and LA has so much to offer. It was a bit of a culture shock, but being close to the beach sure helps.”
“You came out while you were still in Toronto performing in a local production of Rent. You mentioned having lunch with your boyfriend in an interview, and when Space Academy premiered, many bloggers and gossip sites picked up on the old article. Do you regret coming out so early in your career? Do you think you’ll get pigeonholed?”
He’d expected the question, so Ryan resisted the urge to sigh long-sufferingly. He wished it didn’t come up in every interview. “No, I don’t regret it at all. I’ve been out since my senior year of high school. It’s just who I am, and I don’t think it’s impacted my career negatively. I played a straight character in a movie during summer hiatus.” He shrugged. “All I can do is give the best performances I can and hope to continue to have opportunities.”
Cary interjected, his tone firm. “I think Ryan is an inspiration to other gay actors. And straight actors, for that matter. Someone’s sexuality shouldn’t matter in this day and age. He’s an amazing artist and person.”
Warmth bloomed in Ryan’s chest. “I’m lucky that Cary and everyone here at Space Academy are completely supportive. I hope that we’ll get to the point one day when it won’t be a big deal anymore.”
“I hope so too,” Chuck replied. “So are you seeing anyone, Ryan?”
“No, there’s no one special right now.” No one I can actually date, that is.
“Cary, you’ve been seeing Succubus High star Amanda Walker for over a year now. Any wedding bells in the future?”
Cary chuckled. “We’ll have to see. Amanda’s a great girl.”
Actually, Amanda’s a high-maintenance pain in the ass. Ryan kept a pleasant expression on his face. It wasn’t that he was jealous or anything. Okay, maybe he was. But Cary deserved so much more than her. He reminded himself that it wasn’t as if Amanda Walker was the only thing standing between him and Cary. She was irrelevant. Cary was straight. The end.
“You guys are both twenty-five now. How does it feel to be playing high school students?”
Ryan chuckled. “Well, I don’t think we’re the oldest actors to play teenagers.”
“With his big brown doe eyes and baby face, I think he’ll be playing a high schooler for at least five more years.” Cary laughed, eyes crinkling.
“But we love our roles,” Ryan added. “High school--whether here on Earth or orbiting the fifth moon of the newly discovered planet Alida--is so rife with drama and potential for character growth.”
Chuck’s eyebrow popped up. “Ah yes. Such as discovering one’s sexuality?”
Cary and Ryan shared a glance and a smile. Cary answered. “That is a common theme, Chuck. I think our fans are really going to enjoy our characters’ arcs as this season continues in the new year.”
Tammy cleared her throat. “I’m afraid we have to end things there. Ryan and Cary are needed back on set.”
They said good-bye to Chuck, and Ryan checked his call sheet. The next scene was an “intimate moment” between Steven and Kishi. No kiss, but they’d both be shirtless and playing a particularly close game of imperia, a basketball-ish game. The scene was early in the episode, before their kiss, and Steven would be barely able to contain his attraction to Kishi.
Ryan took a fortifying breath as he headed back to set. He didn’t think of himself as a Method actor, but he was certainly living and breathing his character’s emotions these days.
* * * *
With a sigh, Ryan popped open a can of soda as he sat back on the couch in his trailer. He still had one more scene to shoot, and it was going to be a long day. As he picked up the TV remote, there was a knock on the door.
His heart stupidly skipped a beat when he found Cary waiting outside. “Hey, man! I’m wrapped. Just wanted to say merry Christmas and all that.”
Ryan ushered him in and handed him a bottle of water from the fridge since Cary didn’t drink soda. That was just one of the reasons he’d been featured on the cover of Men’s Health and Ryan never would be. Ryan worked out and kept trim and healthy, but he wasn’t a heartthrob like Cary.
“Big plans for the holidays?” Ryan asked. “Will you be with your mom or dad?”
“Neither. Dad’s in Thailand shooting another sequel to Blowing Shit Up.”
Ryan laughed. “Is this Strike Back part four?”
“Yep. The world’s appetite for explosions and cheap one-liners continues unabated.” He flopped down on the couch. “Besides, my stepmother’s with him, and I can’t deal with her. She seriously tried to give me parental advice at Thanksgiving.”
Ryan sat beside Cary and swung his feet up onto the low coffee table. Most movie stars would sniff at his small oak-paneled trailer, but with a sofa bed, shower, toilet, and kitchenette, the twelve-foot space was luxury for Ryan. He still wasn’t used to being waited on, and at first the trailer had seemed unnecessary. But for the long days of shooting, he was very glad to have it.
“Tell me you’re exaggerating.”
Cary took a swig of water. “I wish. No, it seems that in Janelle’s twenty impressive years here on Earth, she’s learned a lot. She was quite put out that I didn’t want the benefit of her extensive knowledge when picking my hiatus project.”
“Wow. Okay, so what’s your mom doing for Christmas?”
“She’ll be in Hawaii. I’d go, but Amanda booked us into a spa for a cleanse.”
“A cleanse? For Christmas?”
Cary grimaced. “Yeah, nothing but lettuce and lemon water or something. Oh and pepper or hot sauce, I think. Yum. It’s in the desert near Palm Springs. Lots of yoga and massage, at least.”
“And starvation. No turkey? No stuffing? No cookies? It’s just not Christmas without a ton of fattening food.”
“Eh, it’s no big deal.” Cary shrugged. “I’ve never really had a real Christmas. Growing up, my parents were always getting married and divorced, and they vacationed in the tropics. A white Christmas and the family all together is just something I saw on TV.”
Ryan’s jaw dropped. “You’ve never had snow at Christmas?” He realized he was practically shouting and flushed at his overreaction. “Sorry. Christmas has always been my favorite holiday.”
“The most wonderful time of the year? Well, you’re Canadian, so it’s understandable,” Cary replied playfully. His smile faded. “Nah, Christmas was just never a big deal. I got presents and everything, but it’s never been a big special day with walking in a winter wonderland and all that.”
“I’m sorry.” Cary seemed uncharacteristically melancholy about it. “Hey, you’re more than welcome to join me and my family in the Great White North.”
To Ryan’s surprise, Cary’s face lit up. “Really?”
The invite had slipped out, and he hadn’t really been serious, but the thought of actually spending Christmas with Cary had Ryan’s stomach flip-flopping. “Of course. I’m flying home tomorrow, and we’re going up to our cottage on Friday. More snow than you can shake a stick at.” He knew he should limit the time he spent with Cary off set, but... But I can still look even if I can’t touch.
Again, Cary’s smile disappeared, and he slumped back against the cushions. “Man, I wish I could, but Amanda will kill me if I try to back out of the spa. Besides, I wouldn’t want to intrude on you and your family.”
“It wouldn’t be an intrusion at all. My parents keep saying they want to meet you. You’re my best friend out here.”
Cary’s expression was unreadable. Pleased, maybe? “Really? Thanks, man. That’s nice to hear. You know you’re my boy too.” He punched Ryan’s shoulder lightly.
Ryan cleared his throat and pretended his whole body wasn’t on fire. “Well, the invitation stands if you change your mind.”
They smiled awkwardly at each other. Things had always been totally comfortable between them, but now that they’d kissed on set, Ryan felt on edge. If he relaxed, he was afraid he’d do something that would cross the boundaries without even thinking about it. Now any kind of touch barring a shoulder punch seemed too intimate. He’s not your boyfriend. It’s all pretend.
Their eyes met, and Ryan swore a current surged between them, shooting up his spine and then right down to his dick. Cary licked his lips, and they stared at each other in the silence. Ryan could feel the heat from Cary’s body beside him on the couch, and Cary seemed to be leaning into him.
A soft knock on the door was followed by a PA calling out, “Ryan? We’re ready for you.”
The strange mood broken, Cary drained his bottle. “See ya next year.” He stood, then pulled Ryan up into a straight-guy hug, slapping his back with a thump.
“Right, see you next year. Merry Christmas.”
As he walked to set, Ryan decided it was a good thing they had three weeks until they had to be back in the second week of January. Time to get this crush on Cary under control. Between work and their friendship, they had a good thing going, and Ryan was damned if he was going to mess that up.
You're the One by Davidson King
CHAPTER ONE
Noah
“You need to calm down, Miss Thing.” I narrowed my gaze at the blond bombshell standing in front of me who thought she was getting in to see Thomas.
“He’s expecting me.” She tried to push past security, toward me, thinking we’d roll over because she was Chantel Morrison, a box-office draw.
“No…no, he is not. Shoo.” I made a sweeping motion with my fingers, and her ivory skin flushed red.
“Listen, you little gnat—”
“Nope.” I covered my ears. “Bye.” I spun on my heel and went into the room she was desperately trying to enter.
When I shut the door, Thomas was sitting on the couch, a small smile on his face as he looked at me. “She’s relentless.”
“Why, Thomas? Why did you have to take her to the Oscars with you? Now she thinks you’re going to have babies with her.” After locking the door, I went and sat beside him.
“I didn’t know she’d turn into a face-hugger, Noah. She was actually quite relaxed and calm at the show. Then the next day it was bam, let’s get married.”
Thomas Vale was everything in Hollywood, and I was his personal assistant. I’d been by his side since the days he could only get a minor role on a soap opera. When he skyrocketed to fame, he’d made sure I was holding on. We were friends…and I was madly in love with him. Not that he knew that—no, he could never. The trust Thomas had in me was worth never telling him that little fact.
“Might I suggest going solo to the next award show?”
He chuckled. “Noted.” His phone buzzed and he sighed.
“What’s wrong? Did she get your number? I will go out there right now and—”
“No, she didn’t, and if she had, I’d have blocked her. No reason to summon your inner Bruce Lee on my account.”
Yeah, I was only five foot seven, and the only exercise I got on the daily was swimming laps at night…well, when I could. Sure, a swift wind could blow me over. But I was spunky. I had defensive skills, thanks to many bullies while growing up.
“Fine. Explain the frown and sigh and dejected body language?” I eyed him, then his phone, which he was scowling hard at.
“Christmas is next month.”
“Oookaaay? I’ve never known you to be a scrooge, Thomas. You’re actually a festive fella.” I laughed when he rolled his eyes.
“I love Christmas. You know I always go home. Spend it with my family in the mountains. It’s the only time all of us are together for the year.”
“And, what, it was canceled?” Getting him to tell me things sometimes was like pulling teeth.
He turned his body slightly, folding his leg so he was now sitting on his foot, staring at me. “My grandfather—”
“Victor or—”
“William.”
“Okay, continue.”
“He’s dying.” Thomas’s shoulders slumped, and as if his pain were mine, I gasped.
“Thomas, why didn’t you tell me?” I knew his family as if they were my own. Sure, I’d never met them because Thomas barely even had time to see them himself. But I’d practically memorized everything about them. Birthdays, anniversaries, where they lived, the pets they owned…all of it.
“I was well aware you’d do this thing you’re doing right now, had I told you.” He waved a hand at me.
“I’m concerned; how is that a thing?” He shrugged. “Just is. You’re dramatic.”
“Says the actor,” I huffed.
“I know my grandfather is old…like really old. It was going to happen eventually.”
“Yes. Life is funny that way.” He slapped my leg. “What? I’m agreeing with you.”
“Anyway. Last Christmas, he knew he was sick. Lung cancer.”
“Seriously, Thomas, why did you never tell me any of this? You said your grandfather had the flu. I sent flowers from you saying get well soon…to him…and he had lung cancer.”
“I didn’t want anyone to know. I’m sorry.”
Here I was making him feel bad for not telling me when his grandfather was dying… I suck. “No, forget it. I’m a brat. Go on. I assume the cancer is back?”
He nodded. “Thing is, last year he and I were sitting outside, watching my nieces play in the snow. He took my hand, Noah, and pleaded with me that before he died, he wanted me to fall in love. Of course I swore to him I was fine, but as his dying wish…he made me promise to try and let someone in.”
My eyes widened. “He made you promise to fall in love with someone?”
“No. He just said it would be his dying wish. And I really thought he was going to be okay, and I’d have time but…” He sighed again.
“But time is running out.”
He nodded. “I wish I could give him that. Show him I have someone in my life to love and I’ll be fine.”
“Thomas, you can’t force yourself to love someone to appease a dying man’s last wish, even if it’s your grandfather. Don’t you think it would hurt him even more if he found out you were putting on a show on his account?”
Thomas’s eyes widened and a huge smile graced his handsome face. I knew that look. “Noah, you’re a genius.”
“Um, Thomas, whatever you’re thinking, no. It can’t be good.”
“Because I’m happy?”
“No. Because something you clearly heard made you grin like the Grinch, and nothing I said was a good idea.”
He tilted his head back and laughed so hard his body shook. Carefree Thomas was the best.
“Hear me out.” He giggled like a child, excited and quite animated.
“As if I have a choice.”
My sarcasm was completely lost on Thomas, or he was ignoring it. More likely it was the latter.
“The doctor gave him three months. If I can bring someone home for the holidays, and it’s massively convincing that we’re in love, it will make his final time peaceful.”
All I could do was stare at him, waiting for the “Just kidding.” It never came. Sweet Mother Mercy.
“Thomas, that’s a disaster waiting to happen.”
“I don’t think so. If I find the right person to—”
“Lie to? Thomas, you’re going to grab someone and be all, ‘Hey, I love you, meet my family?’ ”
Thomas huffed. “No, but I’m in an industry full of actors. I’m sure I could find someone willing to do this.”
I had to pinch the bridge of my nose to release the pressure. “And you don’t think, at the slightest convenience, they won’t sell this story to the tabloids? Thomas, why are you acting dumb? It’s not who you are. You’re above average in the smarts department.”
He snickered and sat back. “It has to be the right person. Someone trustworthy but who could pull it off. We can have them sign an NDA.”
“We…oh, I’m helping?”
“Who else would be able to find the perfect person for me other than the person who knows me best?” He beamed and fucking fluttered his eyelashes…the asshole.
“One day I will quit.”
He stood and went over to the vanity. He was about to go on The Tonight Show in fifteen minutes, right before Chantel Morrison, which explained why she was there.
“You’ll never leave me, Noah.”
He looked at me through the mirror and I pouted, knowing he was right. Was it just because I loved him? No, Thomas needed protecting, and I’d never let anything happen to him.
“Fine, let me see what my brain can come up with. Operation Fool Grandpa is in full effect.”
They knocked and told him it was time, and with one last titter, he left the dressing room. I sat on the couch for a few moments wondering how in the hell I’d help him pull this off.
Winter Oranges by Marie Sexton
Chapter One
It was easy to believe the house was haunted. After acting for most of his life, Jason Walker’s first thought upon seeing the home he’d purchased virtually sight unseen was that it would have been a perfect place to film an Amityville remake.
A little far from Amity, but hey, Hollywood had never been a stickler for rules.
Or honesty.
Jason put his car in park and killed the engine. Gravel crunched as his friend Dylan’s rental car rolled to a stop next to him. They climbed out of their vehicles and stood side by side, leaning against Jason’s front bumper, staring up at his new abode.
Dylan whistled, long and low, then shook his head. “This place is creepy as hell.”
“It’s just the light.” Even a washed-up actor like Jason knew lighting could make or break a scene. The pictures he’d seen online of the house had been taken in full sunlight in October, with the majestic glory of autumn on all sides, the gold- and scarlet-leaved trees nearer the house backed by the evergreens of the surrounding forest. But now, only a week into November, the eerie orange glow of twilight fell on bare branches, and the pines seemed droopy and forlorn. None of it was doing this house any favors.
Still, Dylan had a point. The house was creepy. Something about the lone, low window over the second floor’s covered patio. Something about the house’s quiet isolation, and the thin white curtains hanging uniformly in every window. Or maybe it was the detached garage with its guesthouse on top, sitting like a forgotten toy off to the left.
“How old is it?” Dylan asked.
“It was built in the ’90s.”
“The 1890s?” Dylan was incredulous. The idea of spending money on anything so old was obviously beyond his comprehension.
“No. The 1990s.”
“It looks older.”
“It’s supposed to.” His real estate agent, Sydney Bell, had called the house an American foursquare revival. Jason didn’t know what that meant and didn’t care. The price was right, the house was fully furnished, and its relative seclusion in the mountainous region of Idaho’s panhandle would make it harder for tabloid photographers to find him.
“They intentionally made it look old?” Dylan asked, as if it was the most absurd thing he’d heard all day.
“They copied an older style of architecture.”
“Huh.” Dylan scratched his chin and threw Jason a smart-assed grin. “Retro. Like you.”
Jason laughed, because that’s what Dylan expected. “Fuck you.” He pushed off the bumper of his car, rattling his keys in his hand. “Let’s see what it’s like inside.”
The second story extended out over the first like an overbite, creating a covered front porch that ran the length of the house. “A veranda,” Sydney had called it. The front door opened into a hallway, although Jason suspected Sydney would have said it was a foyer. Or maybe a vestibule. To the right lay a large living room, furnished in what could only be called cozy-grandma style, with lots of flowers and overstuffed cushions. A stack of moving boxes stood in the center of the floor, having been left there the previous day by the moving company, working under Sydney’s direction. To the left of the foyer sat the dining room, through which they could see the kitchen. Jason knew a mudroom and pantry made up the back half of the area. Directly ahead of where they stood by the front door, a bathroom and the staircase leading up completed the ground floor.
No ghosts, though. Not so far, at least.
“Who the hell picked out that couch?” Dylan asked.
“The previous owner, I guess.” In truth, Jason hadn’t cared much what the furniture looked like. Sydney had promised him it was all in decent condition. Jason was just happy he didn’t have to go wandering around town searching for a damn table to eat at, or a chair to sit in while he watched TV. He’d had Sydney stock the kitchen with a few essentials too, assuring he wouldn’t have to go grocery shopping for a few days at least. The last thing he needed was for somebody in Coeur d’Alene to discover the child star turned B-list actor known to the public as Jadon Walker Buttermore had moved in to their small community. The longer he remained anonymous, the better.
Dylan scowled at the couch as if it had personally offended him. Knowing Dylan and his neo-minimalist style, it probably had. “It’s like something my grandma would have bought.”
Jason laughed. “What? You have something against giant pink roses?”
“On a couch? Yeah, I do. And so should you.”
Jason sat down on the sofa and leaned back. He searched with his left hand and found the lever to extend the footrest. He reclined the backrest and smiled up at Dylan. “It’s not bad, actually.”
“You should have let me furnish it for you.”
“Yeah, right.” Jason sat upright again, shoving the footrest closed with his heels. “I’d have ended up with one designer chair that cost more than my car. And it wouldn’t even have been comfortable.”
Dylan’s laugh was sudden and loud in the confines of the quiet house. “Boy, you don’t think much of me, do you?”
That wasn’t true. That wasn’t true at all, and he suspected Dylan knew it, but Dylan always did this to him, asking questions that seemed to dare Jason to blurt out how he really felt. Jason chose to ignore most of them, this one included. “Come on. Let’s check out the rest.”
Although the house was more than twenty years old, the kitchen had been updated and included all new chrome appliances and a trash compactor that Sydney swore was top-of-the-line and quiet as a whisper. Jason didn’t bother to test the claim.
The second floor held a tiny bathroom and four bedrooms, one in each corner, which Jason supposed was what gave the foursquare its name. A stairway led to a long, slope-ceilinged attic bedroom. At the far end, the single narrow window Jason had noticed upon arrival allowed a bit of light to creep inside. It was a sad, empty room, and they didn’t linger.
“Whoever lived here sure did love flowers,” Dylan said as they scoped out the first couple of bedrooms on the second floor. “Wallpaper, bedspreads, pictures. Even the rug in the bathroom has roses on it. And they’re all pink.”
“It could be worse.”
“How?”
“Uh . . .” Jason stopped, considering. “I’m not sure, to be honest.”
They ended their tour, by some unspoken agreement, in the master bedroom. It was the one room Jason’d had refurnished before his arrival. He’d chosen the furniture himself—online, of course—and Sydney had made sure everything would be ready when he arrived. His new room held a large oak dresser, a chest of drawers, and a love seat, which he knew would end up a depository for not-quite-dirty laundry. A king-sized bed covered with a thick down comforter sat against the wall, between two nightstands.
Dylan pointed to the glass-paned door in the corner of the room. “This goes to that patio we could see from the front yard?”
“It does.”
The two front bedrooms shared a covered porch that sat dead center of the front of the house, directly below the attic window. It was a strange setup, a throwback to when husbands and wives had separate quarters. The porch would have allowed them to cross to each other’s room without alerting the children, except this house had been built at the end of the twentieth century, making the floor plan an anachronism.
Dylan opened the door, and Jason followed him outside. They still wore their jackets, but now the sun had set and the November evening felt cooler than before.
“There’s a room over the garage too?” Dylan asked.
“Yep, bed and bath.” They stood surveying the building in question from their vantage point on the porch. It was eerily silent.
“Well, is it everything you dreamed?”
Yes. Standing there with Dylan, out of sight of everybody else in the world was exactly what he dreamed about, nearly every night.
Not that he’d ever admit it out loud.
Instead, Jason nodded, then asked, as casually as he could, “You’re staying the night, right?”
Dylan grinned and stepped closer to slide his arm around Jason’s waist. “I didn’t come all this way to see your house.”
Jason’s relief felt almost tangible, so sudden and strong he wondered if Dylan sensed it. He hoped not. He hoped the darkness hid his pathetic happiness at knowing Dylan was staying. They’d been friends for more than ten years. They’d shared a bed more times than Jason could count. Dylan may have suspected Jason’s true feelings, but Jason did his best to never confirm them, especially since Dylan avoided genuine emotions and commitment the way Jason avoided anybody with a press badge hanging around their neck.
Still, Jason rejoiced as Dylan pulled him close. He sank gratefully into the warmth of Dylan’s kiss, comfortable in his friend’s arms. He grew breathless as Dylan began fighting with the buttons of Jason’s jeans.
“Let’s do it here,” Dylan whispered.
Jason glanced around in alarm, searching for the telltale wink of light reflecting off a camera lens. “Somebody will see.”
“There’s nobody around. That’s why we’re in the wilds of Idaho, remember?”
Jason’s protests dwindled as Dylan sank to his knees, pulling Jason’s pants halfway down his hips as he did. He traced his tongue up Jason’s erection. “God, Jase. It’s been too long.”
“I know.” Way too long since he’d had Dylan to himself. Too many lonely nights since he’d felt Dylan’s touch. He’d been in love with his friend for longer than he cared to admit, but this was the first time in months they’d been alone together. Still, he was hesitant to do anything out in the open. “Dylan, wait. I—” His words died as Dylan wrapped his lips around Jason’s glans. “Oh God.”
Dylan sucked him in deep, stalling for moment with his nose pressed against Jason’s pubic bone. Then, finally, he began to move, sliding his warm mouth up and down Jason’s length. Jason gripped the cold porch railing with one hand, tangled the fingers of the other into Dylan’s heavily moussed hair, and tried to lose himself to the pleasure of being sucked by the man he loved. He breathed deep, willing the tension away. Doing his best to banish the pressure of trying to make it in Hollywood and failing, of never living up to what was expected. He tried to forget it all. To simply revel in the pure joy of being with Dylan here and now, knowing they had one full night together, just the two of them. No other struggling actors or desperate starlets. No two-bit directors or double-crossing producers. And above all, no media waiting to catch them with their pants down.
Literally.
But as good as it was being with Dylan, the real world always intruded. His house was set back half an acre from the road, but anybody who came up the drive would be able to see them. The No Trespassing signs wouldn’t mean a thing to a photographer hoping for a scoop.
Jason moaned—part pleasure, part disappointment that even now he couldn’t relax—and opened his eyes. He kept his hand on Dylan’s head as he surveyed the tree line, his chest tight with anxiety at what he might find.
But the grounds around the house—his house, he had to remind himself—were dark and still and silent. Nobody lingered there.
Yes, this could really happen. Jason almost laughed at the realization. He imagined being fucked by Dylan right there on the porch. The thought thrilled him, and his throaty moan made Dylan speed up, his ministrations gaining a new urgency as he sucked Jason’s cock. In the low light on the porch, Jason could barely make out the movement of Dylan’s hand between his legs as he stroked himself.
Did they have any lube handy? Or condoms?
Fuck it. Just this for now. I’ll let him suck me here, where only the moon can see. We’ll have time for the rest later.
He surveyed the yard again, his eyes half-closed, his breath quick and labored as his orgasm neared. He peered past their parked cars. Found the garage. Followed its lines up toward the second-story guesthouse and its single window—
“Holy shit!” Jason jumped back, away from the porch railing, away from Dylan, trying to clumsily pull his pants up and hide himself against the wall.
“What the hell, Jase?” Dylan’s voice was low and hoarse.
“There was somebody—” But there wasn’t. Jason swore he’d seen a face in the window of the apartment over the garage, but now it stood empty except for the unmoving curtains. Jason swallowed hard, willing his heart to stop pounding. He pointed with a shaking hand toward the garage. “I thought I saw somebody in the guesthouse.”
“I’ve never met anybody as paranoid as you.” Dylan pushed himself up from his knees, his pants still hanging open, his erect cock sticking into the night air like some kind of ridiculous talisman. “Not that it isn’t justified, but . . .” He gestured to the empty lawn. “There’s nobody there.”
“I thought I saw—”
“What? A photographer?”
Jason shook his head, holding his pants closed around his waning erection, trying to sort through his thoughts. Had he imagined it? “It was a man.”
“Did he have a camera?”
The question took him aback. “No,” he said, almost surprised at his own answer. He’d seen only a face. Not even a full face, to be honest. Only the pale suggestion of eyes and a chin, and lips held in a comical O of surprise.
But now, the window was empty. The curtains weren’t even swaying. The room over the garage was pitch dark.
“Do you want me to go check?” Dylan asked with the accommodating condescension of a father offering to check for monsters under his teenage daughter’s bed.
“No.” Jason took a deep breath and squared his shoulders, feigning a bravado he didn’t feel. “You’re right. There’s nobody there. I must have been seeing things.”
Dylan grinned and moved closer, wrapping his arms around him. “You need to relax, JayWalk.”
It was the press’s nickname for Jason. He hated it, although it didn’t sound quite so ridiculous when Dylan said it. “I’m trying.”
“You want a drink?”
“That won’t help.”
“Some weed?” He kissed Jason’s neck, pushing his erection insistently against him. “Poppers? A Valium? I have some in my bag. Tell me what you need, baby, and I’ll get it. You know that. Anything for you.”
Anything.
As long as it was only for tonight.
Anything he needed, but only until morning.
“Let’s go inside,” Jason said. “I have a brand-new bed in there, you know.”
Dylan’s laugh was throaty and gratifying. “Then let’s go break it in.”
Jason followed him inside, glancing once toward the guesthouse over the garage.
Nobody there.
***
Jason woke to birds chirping happily outside the window. Sunlight was streaming through the thin white curtains, making the entire room feel like a midmorning dream. Dylan slept next to him, his bare back rising and falling with his soft snores. For a while, Jason simply watched him, remembering the night before. Reliving how good it felt to fall asleep next to the man he loved.
If only it could be like this every day.
But no. Dylan would go back to California, and Jason would be left alone in a house that was way too big for him.
He was looking forward to it. Not to Dylan leaving, of course. That’d break his heart, like it always did. But after that, there’d be only him, the house, and the bliss of seclusion. People often said privacy was the last luxury. Jason knew it was true. After a lifetime in the limelight—or chasing the limelight, at any rate—he’d learned that privacy was a commodity more precious than gold, as unattainable as stardom and fame, rarer than real breasts in porn. Privacy was the great white whale, and Jason was determined to harpoon that beast and make it his.
Buying the house had been the first step.
He climbed out of bed and considered what to wear. Of course, the closet and all the drawers were empty. They’d never gotten around to bringing his suitcases in from the car. Some of the boxes in the living room held clothes, but he’d didn’t relish the idea of digging through them naked. He put on the jeans he’d worn the day before and went barefoot down the stairs in search of coffee. He waited until it was brewing to check his cell phone. No messages from Natalie Reuben, his agent. That meant no pictures had surfaced of him and Dylan on the porch.
Not yet, at least.
He took his coffee out onto the veranda. Movement flashed in his peripheral vision, but when he turned, he caught only the unmistakable white tale of a deer bounding into the trees.
“Hey, you can stay,” he called after it. “As long as you don’t have a camera.”
The deer kept running, clearly unimpressed by Jason’s concession.
Jason rested his hip against the railing and searched in vain for more wildlife. Sydney had mentioned deer, caribou, bighorn sheep, and lemmings, although Jason wouldn’t know a lemming if it popped up and said hello. She’d also mentioned foxes, wolves, wolverines, and grizzlies, although she’d assured him those were more elusive. Jason had jokingly told her he’d rather face a grizzly than a photographer. Now, staring out into the woods that surrounded him, he wasn’t so sure.
His eyes fell at last on the garage. It’d been built in the style of an old barn, with a tall, rounded roof. The big doors meant for cars were on the far side of the building. On the near side, there was only a single, person-sized doorway, with a cobblestone path leading to the mudroom off the kitchen. Jason eyed the window on the second floor. Had he really seen somebody in it?
He left his coffee cup on the porch and descended the front steps, angling off the path toward the garage, the frosty grass crunching under his bare feet. It was colder than he expected, each step worse than the one before, and he ended up doing an ungraceful skip-hop-hop across the frozen ground, trying to walk without letting his feet touch the ground any longer than necessary. He imagined he looked like those idiots who walked across coals, so he stopped when he reached the cobblestones and glanced around, hoping no photographers had shown up to capture it on film. No matter how innocuous the activity, the tabloids always managed to put a tantalizing spin on things. He imagined the headlines.
Jadon Walker Buttermore on Drugs! Thinks the Ground Is Hot Lava!
JayWalk in the Throes of Drug-Induced Hallucination!
JayWalking His Way to the Loony Bin!
Not as sensational as a sex tape, but still enough to sell a few copies.
His paranoia proved unwarranted. He saw no sign of trespassers. Then again, he hadn’t seen the photographer who’d taken the pictures of him and Dylan eight months earlier, either. He hadn’t known until Natalie called him the next morning that he’d made StarWatch’s cover once again. In some ways, it had been a relief. He’d been debating the best way to come out for ages. But being outed in such a sensational way hadn’t been part of the plan.
He glanced toward his bedroom, and the second-floor porch, where he and Dylan had made out the night before. He shuddered, thinking how careless he’d been. Some people said there was no such thing as bad press, but those people had clearly never been caught in a tabloid’s crosshairs.
“Can’t let that happen again,” he mumbled as he turned toward the garage.
The door was nothing special. A four-paned window up top, solid wood below. He tried the knob, but found it locked. Nothing of interest when he peered inside, either. Empty spaces where cars belonged and empty shelves along the walls. He knew from viewing the floor plans that the staircase to the guesthouse lay directly to his right, along the same interior wall that held the door, but he couldn’t see it.
He tried the knob a second time, for no good reason whatsoever. Still locked. Not that he’d expected that to change.
If a photographer had found their way inside, would they have thought to lock the door behind them? Would they still be up there, or had they snuck out during the night?
Jason crouched and inspected the cobblestones at his feet, searching for footprints, or—
Well, to be honest, he didn’t know what exactly. Maybe a note written in chalk, “The paparazzi was here”?
He found nothing but dirt and damp cobblestones.
He crossed back over to the house, confident that he looked less ridiculous than he had the first time. He went quietly up the stairs, wondering if Dylan was still asleep. He imagined crawling under his new down comforter, snuggling into the familiar warmth of Dylan’s arms, maybe making love one more time before saying good-bye. It disappointed him to find Dylan already up and half-dressed.
“Hey, there you are,” Dylan said as he buttoned his shirt. His jeans were on too, although his feet were still bare.
Jason settled on the bed and crossed his legs. “Are you leaving already?”
“I have a flight to catch.”
“I see.” Jason had driven his car full of belongings to Idaho and checked into a motel in nearby Coeur d’Alene a few days before the closing. He’d been thrilled when Dylan had called at the last minute and told him he’d booked a flight to Spokane and would be there in time to help Jason with the move. And now here they were: Jason’s bags still sitting in his car in the driveway, and Dylan already with one foot out the door.
Jason fiddled with the ragged hem of his jeans, debating. He wanted to ask what was so urgent that Dylan had to rush out before breakfast. He wanted to suggest that Dylan stay, if not another night, at least a few more hours. But he couldn’t figure out how to say any of it without sounding desperate.
“I have an appointment for new head shots at four,” Dylan went on. “And then later tonight . . .” He grinned mischievously. “I have a hot date.”
Jason’s heart sank. “Oh?”
“Remember Tryss?”
“Victim Number Five, from Summer Camp Nightmare 3?”
“That’s the one. Poor girl has daddy issues from here to the moon, a failed acting career, and a boob job she’s still paying off. It’s like the desperation trifecta.” He winked. “Even you couldn’t turn that down.”
“I have turned that down.”
Dylan laughed and perched on the edge of the love seat to pull on his shoes. When he glanced up again, Jason was surprised to find his expression somber. “It was good seeing you, Jase.”
Jason did his best to keep his tone casual when he answered. “You too."
“I had a great time last night.”
“So did I.” But those words didn't sound casual at all. Jason knew his heartache had crept into his voice, but Dylan showed no sign of having heard it as he crossed the room and put a hand on either side of Jason’s face, leaning close to peer into his eyes.
“You know I love you, right?”
Jason’s heart leapt. He swallowed hard. “You do?”
“Of course. You’re like a brother to me. You know that.”
Jason was pretty sure most brothers didn’t do what they’d done the night before, but he didn’t argue. He only hoped Dylan couldn’t see how much those words hurt him. “I love you too.” He was proud that he managed to keep his voice steady.
And casual.
“You’ll call me if you need anything, right?” Dylan asked.
Jason nodded. “Right,” he lied.
“Good.” Dylan kissed him—not like a brother, certainly, but not quite like a lover either.
Like a friend.
“Take care, JayWalk.”
“You too.”
And then Dylan walked down the stairs. Out the front door. Jason refused to watch. He only listened as Dylan’s car crunched over the gravel drive toward the main road.
And then there was only Jason, and the solitude he’d longed for so desperately.
Funny how solitude and loneliness felt so much alike.
The Sinner and the Saint by RJ Scott
Chapter 1
Loud banging, with added yelling, pulled Nick out of a nightmare. After a restless, irritable, crunchy-messy night of tossing and turning, he had finally fallen asleep some time before dawn, and now at fuck o’clock in the morning there was knocking at the front door. And some asshole shouting words that he couldn’t make out. Was this part of his dream? He couldn’t tell.
For the longest time he lay flat on his back, unwilling to move. The sheets were wrapped around him like a mummy, the quilt on the floor, and he was still in that half world between nightmare and reality. Even closing his eyes didn’t help dispel the vivid images of him walking up to the Oscar podium completely naked and with the Queen pointing and laughing at him.
Naked as the day he was born, hanging loose and free, and no one saying a thing. Apart from the laughing that was. Like it was okay that one of the Oscar nominees was walking up the steps free of any and all clothing.
Not to mention no one commented on the Queen throwing popcorn at him.
Yep, it had been that kind of nightmare, and it wasn’t the first time he’d had it. And where the Oscar fear came from he didn’t know. There would never be a chance of an Oscar for. Not for the guy whose acting career had happened by accident and formed only because of a personal rebellion against his straight laced family. His resume included two sequels to the highly profitable, but formulaic, shit-bad, Angels of Bedlam franchise, with his entire fee going charity because he didn’t need the money.
Nick hadn’t been in the first UK funded Bedlam film. Said film had been praised for its ingenious twist on a dark horror romance. No, he was the handy British villain in the next two, the studio cashing in on any money that was left out there in a saturated market by ticking all the boxes. Explosions, tick. Strong, but mostly naked, female lead, tick. Sexy down on his luck, in te wrong place at the wrong time, male lead, tick.
And him, the ubiquitous bad guy with the English accent.
The follow up were certainly not Oscar material, and once Nick pulled his fragmented sleep-addled thoughts into line, he focused on the statistical likelihood of even being nominated for an Oscar in the first place, let alone accepting it naked.
“Fuck me,” he muttered to the empty room and rolled onto his front. The banging had stopped and no one actually knew he was here, so, he wasn’t going to answer the door in a place that wasn’t even his.
Jason McInnery and his husband, Kieran, lived in this stunning home, in the small town of Ellery, Tennessee. Glass floor to ceiling, wide open rooms, a pool in the garden, and the most comprehensive jungle gym he’d ever seen for Jason and Kieran’s son, Jonas. Even the damn guest room was beautiful, a huge wood carving took up nearly one wall, and the view from the window out to the mountain was stunning. At least that was the adjective he was supposed to use for what he could see. Objectively, he could see it was spectacular, but was too lost in confusion since he got here to think about it too much. A quick glance at the clock showed him it was five am, like midnight or something back in London, and still dark in the shadow of the mountain, so he rolled over and pulled the covers up to his neck.
Even in the middle of the chaotic remnants of his nightmare he welcomed the heat that cocooned him and willed the knocking to stop. Which it did. The mess of dreams forgotten, he drifted on as many good thoughts as he could muster and was very nearly asleep when the banging started up again. He groaned and hid his face under the pillow, willing the person creating the noise to go away. Then it ceased again, and he closed his eyes, but didn’t remove the pillow. Dawn was too close now and the room would fill with light because he hadn’t even taken the time to pull the drapes.
Unfortunately, his bladder had other ideas about what he needed to do, and cursing, he grabbed the sheets and untwisted himself. Feet planted on the floor he scrubbed a hand over his face, the untamed beard was just another reminder of everything that was horribly wrong about his life right now. Normally he would have just the right amount of stubble, but the last instalment of Angels of Bedlam, cunningly entitled, Bedlam Adrift, called for him to be a castaway, hence the beard, which he’d left to tangle.
No point in worrying about it anyway. He’d left London to get away from paparazzi, and their incessant need for more, and he was in unofficial hiding. Therefore, no one would see his beard, or his bloodshot eyes.
He caught sight of himself in the mirror.
“Jesus, you look fucked.”
Bedhead. Bags under his eyes. Beard. It was a whole cacophony of B-shit. Yawning widely, he padded across the bedroom to the half bath, emptying his bladder and washing his hands. He’d gone to bed as nature intended. Well, warm nature anyway, completely naked, which probably led to nightmare. Packing back home had been done in less than five minutes, his priority was money, passport, his phone, his laptop and associated chargers. It seemed like his messed-up head hadn’t thought any kind of pajamas were needed, or indeed underwear.
The next choice was shower or bed, and the exhaustion of the past few days, the media attention, making sure Heather was okay, fleeing the UK, ending up here in the middle of rural Tennessee, it was all too much and he sighed.
“Bed it is,” he muttered to his reflection. As soon as he woke up he was going online to order everything he’d forgot to pack. Jason had said to help himself to anything he needed but helping himself to his friend’s clothes didn’t feel right.
He yawned again, and stepped out into the cooler bedroom, eyes only half open.
“Hands where I can see them,” someone shouted, and Nick, startled, his heart pounding, fell backwards into the bathroom, catching himself on the jamb as best he could. He blinked to focus on the man in front of him.
The cop.
The gun.
The cop holding a gun on him. Immediately he raised his hands, and then lowered them to cover his junk, and then raised them again when the cop didn’t move.
Frank W Butterfield
Frank W. Butterfield is the Amazon best-selling author of 89 (and counting) self-published novels, novellas, and short stories. Born and raised in Lubbock, Texas, he has traveled all over the US and Canada and now makes his home in Daytona Beach, Florida. His first attempt at writing at the age of nine with a ball-point pen and a notepad was a failure. Forty years later, he tried again and hasn't stopped since.
After writing for years yet never really finding the right inspiration, Keira discovered her voice in gay romance, which has become a passion. She writes contemporary, historical, fantasy, and paranormal fiction and — although she loves delicious angst along the way — Keira firmly believes in happy endings. For as Oscar Wilde once said:
“The good ended happily, and the bad unhappily. That is what fiction means.”
Davidson King, always had a hope that someday her daydreams would become real-life stories. As a child, you would often find her in her own world, thinking up the most insane situations. It may have taken her awhile, but she made her dream come true with her first published work, Snow Falling.
She managed to wrangle herself a husband who matched her crazy and they hatched three wonderful children.
If you were to ask her what gave her the courage to finally publish, she’d tell you it was her amazing family and friends. Support is vital in all things and when you’re afraid of your dreams, it will be your cheering section that will lift you up.
Marie SextonMarie Sexton lives in Colorado. She’s a fan of just about anything that involves muscular young men piling on top of each other. In particular, she loves the Denver Broncos and enjoys going to the games with her husband. Her imaginary friends often tag along. Marie has one daughter, two cats, and one dog, all of whom seem bent on destroying what remains of her sanity. She loves them anyway.
Writing love stories with a happy ever after – cowboys, heroes, family, hockey, single dads, bodyguards
USA Today bestselling author RJ Scott has written over one hundred romance books. Emotional stories of complicated characters, cowboys, single dads, hockey players, millionaires, princes, bodyguards, Navy SEALs, soldiers, doctors, paramedics, firefighters, cops, and the men who get mixed up in their lives, always with a happy ever after.
She lives just outside London and spends every waking minute she isn’t with family either reading or writing. The last time she had a week’s break from writing, she didn’t like it one little bit, and she has yet to meet a box of chocolates she couldn’t defeat.
Frank W Butterfield
Keira Andrews
CHIRP / AUDIOBOOKS / TANTOR / KOBO
EMAIL: keira.andrews@gmail.com
Davidson King
EMAIL: davidsonkingauthor@yahoo.com
The Amorous Attorney by Frank W Butterfield
Where the Lovelight Gleams by Keira Andrews
You're the One by Davidson King
Winter Oranges by Marie Sexton
The Sinner and the Saint by RJ Scott
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