Under the Covers

by K. C. Wells

  “Ew.” Jase grimaced.

  Chris burst out laughing. “And there you have it. We both agree that’s gross.” He tilted his head. “What about you? What attracts you about a guy?”

  Jase looked down at the dark brown carpet. “I haven’t had a lot of luck with dating. I always seem to pick guys who think that because I’m slighter than they are, they can boss me around and tell me what to do. Like theirs is the only opinion that counts. Or else they’ve been guys who thought that their careers were more valid than mine, because anyone can act, right?” He groaned. “I must have this sixth sense that can spot one of those guys at a distance, and just… homes in on them. I want someone who’s supportive, who wants me to be successful, who cheers me on from the sidelines. Is that so much to ask?”

  All Chris wanted to do was take Jase in his arms, hold him, and tell him no, it wasn’t too much to ask, and that Chris would be all those things and more. That would be just before he kissed that sweet mouth, as if his kisses could melt away all those guys who’d put Jase down, who’d dismissed his ambitions and dreams, and who’d dashed his hopes.

  Instead, he reached out and gently lifted Jase’s chin until their gazes met. “It is never wrong to want someone who cares about you as much as they care about themselves.” He withdrew his hand, afraid to linger too long. It already felt like he’d crossed a line by uttering such a personal remark.

  Jase’s breathing quickened, then settled back to its normal rhythm. “Thank you. When you have a run of bad dating luck, you begin to feel like it’s always going to be that way. Thank you for reminding me that there are nice guys out there.”

  There’s one right in front of you, Chris wanted to shout. But they’d strayed onto a path that could only lead to him blurting out what he was desperate to keep hidden.

  He cleared his throat. “Are you ready for the contest tomorrow?”

  Jase grinned. “Seeing as most of the readers I’ve seen so far are women, I’ve decided to dress to impress. Something that is bound to set their hearts a-fluttering.”

  Chris thought that ironic. Jase set his heart fluttering in a simple pair of jeans and a button-down shirt. “I can’t wait to see it.” Then he smirked. “Of course, it’s a pity you can’t wear what you wore to your last photo shoot. You’d win hands down.”

  Jase frowned for a second; then his eyes widened. “If I recall, I was wearing just my briefs under a bedsheet.”

  “Exactly.”

  Jase whacked him on the arm. “Nothing R-rated, remember?” They both laughed. Jase shook his head. “I’m only just beginning to see that you’re trouble.”

  “Stick around. By the end of the week, you’ll know exactly what I’m like.”

  Jase’s eyes gleamed. “I suspect we’ll know each other a whole lot better.”

  But not the way I want to know you.

  Chris pushed aside such thoughts and drank his wine. More than three days to go, and already he was on shaky ground.

  Can I last until the end of the con without saying something stupid and spoiling what we have?

  Right then his money was on No.

  Chapter Seven

  Thursday

  JASE stood behind the curtain backstage, adjusting his kilt for the umpteenth time. He’d chosen to go for the full Scottish effect, wearing a black shirt, black waistcoat, red bow tie, and a leather pouch that hung low in the place of a sporran. His thick socks were pulled up and his boots gleamed. He’d worn such an outfit for a series of books set in the Scottish Highlands, and had been so taken with the kilt that he’d bought one for himself. Not that he’d gotten to wear it until now.

  Around him, nine other guys stood chatting, each one with a bag containing their costume choice for round two. This was the casual round, so strictly speaking the kilt was a little over-the-top, and he felt decidedly overdressed. One guy wore nothing but a pair of tight jeans and boots, and he’d oiled his tanned arms and torso, obviously to show off his rippling muscles. Next to him, Jase felt like a stick insect.

  Another guy wore a black pair of shorts and a low-cut top, clearly to reveal the mass of tattoos that covered his body. Two full sleeves, elaborate designs that trailed up over his calves, and a striking black tattoo that curled over his collarbones and chest, made for an impressive sight. The others were all muscular men with hair of varying lengths. One model had blond hair down to his waist, and Jase wondered about the kind of covers he appeared on.

  Gabe had chosen to wear the skimpiest pair of shorts Jase had ever seen, which revealed not only the curve of his ass where it met his thighs, but also a definite bulge at the front. Jase overheard a couple of the guys discussing in whispers whether Gabe had stuffed a rolled-up sock down there. He said nothing. He’d seen Gabe’s package up close and personal in those mesh briefs of his. The last thing Gabe needed was a sock.

  “Ready, guys?” Chris stepped through the curtain, a clipboard in his hand. “We’re about to let in the readers.” He caught sight of Gabe and his eyes widened. “Did someone not get the memo about what to wear? Or rather, what not to wear?”

  Gabe blinked. “What’s wrong with this?” A few guys snickered.

  Chris shook his head. “Let’s hope your costume selection leaves more to the imagination.” He glanced at Jase and grinned. “I hope you’ve got your witty reply ready, because you know what I’m going to ask.”

  Jase matched his grin. “All prepared.” Chris gave a nod of approval. Then Jase noticed Chris’s attire. He wore black jeans and a black cotton shirt. “What happened to the tux?”

  “I decided against it,” Chris said with a shrug. “I didn’t want to draw attention away from you guys.” He directed his attention to all the models. “You know what the order is for coming out front. You all got the email. Just remember, keep it clean. Risqué is fine, just don’t overdo it. The audience is who you’re trying to impress, and that includes the reps from the publishing companies who’ll be watching too. Good luck.”

  “You mean, break a leg,” Jase added.

  One of the guys rolled his eyes. “How to spot an actor,” he muttered.

  Jase opened his mouth to defend himself, but Chris was faster. “And remarks like that have no place in this contest.” He speared the guy with a hard stare. “I could make similar remarks about bodybuilders, seeing as I know exactly where I’ve seen you before. You may be competing against each other, but keep things civil, okay?”

  The guy had the good grace to flush. “Sorry,” he murmured in Jase’s direction, who gave him a single nod.

  Chris smiled. “That’s better.” From beyond the curtain came excited chatter, swelling in volume. “And here we go. Listen for your names, guys, then come on from stage right.” He paused, meeting Jase’s gaze, his smile still in place. “And break a leg.” He stepped through the curtain and it closed behind him with a swish.

  “I’m not sure it’s right, you being in this contest if Chris is judging,” Gabe said suddenly.

  Jase frowned. “Why on earth not? He’s taken photos of you, too, for God’s sake.”

  “Yeah, but I’m not his boyfriend,” Gabe said, his eyes gleaming.

  From around them came an explosion of exclamations.

  “What—you two are dating?”

  “Hey, that’s not fair!”

  “Isn’t that what they call a conflict of interest?”

  “Yeah, talk about bias.”

  Jase sighed internally. His subterfuge had bitten him in the ass. “We’re not dating,” he said patiently. “And to be honest, I never said we were. All I said was that we traveled here together, which was true. We met by accident at JFK, and we happened to be on the same flight.”

  Gabe apparently wasn’t convinced. “And all the touchy-feely stuff? What was that all about?” He arched his eyebrows. “Oh, I get it. Either you’re sucking up to him because you want to win, or else you’re sweet on him.”

  Gabe was way too close to the mark for Jase’s liking.

 
Fortunately Tattooed Guy stepped in. “Look, can we focus on what we’re doing? He just told you they’re not dating, so let’s drop this. It’s not like Chris is gonna choose the winner, right? I just wanna get this shindig over with so I can go grab a beer.” Chris’s voice came over the PA system, and the guy grinned. “Showtime.”

  To Jase’s relief, Gabe got in line with the rest of them. Then Jase realized he was second in the lineup and took his place. They waited while Chris explained the procedure, and the audience applauded, adding loud whoops and cries.

  Tattooed Guy peeked through the curtain. “Oh my God, guys. The room is packed. There isn’t even standing room. And I think 99 percent of them are women.”

  Muscle Guy smirked. “Bring it on. The ladies always have a thing for muscles.” He flexed, showing off his bulging biceps.

  Gabe snorted. “I think they’d prefer another kind of muscle.” He cupped his crotch and leered.

  Jase resisted the urge to roll his eyes. He wasn’t nervous at all. It was just like stepping out onto a stage for a theater production.

  He was in his element.

  “SO, Jase.” Chris’s eyes sparkled. “I’m sure I speak for everyone in this room when I ask the following question.” He paused dramatically, and Jase tried not to grin. They’d rehearsed his dialogue that morning after breakfast, practicing what he was going to ask each contestant, and Jase had to admit, Chris was a natural. Not that Jase had told Chris what he’d be wearing, but after that earlier conversation about kilts, he knew what to expect.

  A ripple of chuckles and snickers made its way through the audience, and Jase smiled at them. “Should I be worried here?” he said into the microphone on its stand. More snickers erupted at that.

  Chris laughed. “I’m sure it’s something you must have been asked before, especially in this outfit. So please, put us out of our misery. What are you wearing under that kilt?” Laughter and applause broke out, and Chris beamed.

  Jase cleared his throat, leaned in closer to the mic, and looked around conspiratorially before replying in a low voice, “Moisturizer.”

  The laughter and applause that followed dwarfed the previous outpouring, and Jase smiled at the audience. Even Chris laughed, clapping his hands and nodding in approval. He turned to the audience. “Please give a big round of applause for Jase Mitchell!”

  Jase gave a bow before walking off the stage while waving to the full room. He stepped behind the curtain to where Muscle Guy waited, practicing his flexes. Jase ignored him and went over to where his bag sat. There wasn’t much time to change into his cover costume. He smiled to himself.

  Chris is gonna love this.

  It was only then that he realized he hadn’t chosen the costume to please the audience, but to please Chris.

  God, I’ve got it bad.

  CHRIS thanked Darren, who sauntered off the stage, his spurs clinking as he went. His cowboy costume had gone down well with the audience.

  Everyone loves a cowboy, right?

  “Please help me welcome back onto the stage… Jase Mitchell!”

  The loud burst of applause was an indication of Jase’s popularity. The curtain swung aside and—

  Chris forgot to breathe for a moment.

  Jase walked onto the stage looking every bit as if he’d just stepped off the set of a historical blockbuster. His dark brown leather pants had a soft, worn look about them, and they clung to his thighs. Thigh-length black leather boots hugged his calves. His white linen shirt, open in front, billowed as he approached Chris, revealing his smooth bare chest and toned abs, and around his neck was a thin leather cord.

  Judging by the noises that came from the audience, they appreciated the look just as much as Chris did.

  Chris was trying his damnedest to keep his mouth from falling open. What slayed him was not the outfit, because he’d seen that before, but the look on Jase’s face. His brooding expression was entirely in keeping with his character. His eyes smoldered, and he fixed Chris with a lingering stare, an almost hungry look.

  Oh my God, he looks like he’s about to take me here and now on the stage.

  The fantasy sent a wave of heat coursing through him, and Chris had to fight to maintain his self-control. Jase came to a halt in front of the mic stand and faced the audience, still with that same brooding expression.

  “Dear Lord, it’s Mr. Darcy. Take me, I’m yours.” That came from Sean, the words perfectly audible. Around him, ladies laughed and clapped.

  “Me too,” the woman next to him added.

  Sean glared at her. “Get in line, honey.” More laughter erupted around the room.

  Chris remembered he had to say something. Finding the words had suddenly become a chore. “Do you have a favorite costume?”

  Jase smiled. “Actually, it wasn’t really a costume. I was under a white bedsheet.”

  “Let me guess. You were wearing moisturizer,” a woman called out. Chuckles and snickers burst from the audience.

  Jase widened his eyes. “Who told?” That brought the house down, and he grinned. “Okay, maybe I was wearing a pair of briefs. You have to be careful these days. Can’t give someone an excuse to ban the book cover.”

  As he’d done with Darren, Chris invited questions from the audience. A woman near the back of the room raised her hand, and someone rushed over to her with the wireless mic. “You’ve appeared on the cover of gay romances. Does that bother you?”

  Chris glanced at Jase, who appeared calm. “Why should it?”

  “Well, people might assume you’re gay.” Ripples of disquiet made their way through the crowd, and the woman frowned. “It’s a valid point. What’s wrong with that?”

  Chris covered the mic. “You don’t have to answer, you know,” he said in a low voice.

  Jase smiled. “It’s okay.” He addressed the woman. “And what precisely is wrong with people assuming I’m gay?”

  “Does that mean you are?”

  The room fell silent. Chris’s heartbeat sped up.

  Jase took a moment before responding. “Whether I am or I’m not doesn’t alter how I look on a cover.” He paused, and Chris’s pulse raced. “But for the record? Yes, I’m gay.”

  There was a second of silence before the room echoed to applause. Readers stood up on every row, and Chris was overwhelmed by the positive response. The woman who’d asked the question appeared surprised by the reactions of those around her, and she got up from her seat and quickly made her way to the exit.

  Chris had to wait until the applause died down. “Thank you for your frankness and honesty. You didn’t have to reveal that, but you did it with refreshing candor.” Another wave of applause surged through the audience. “Thank you, Jase Mitchell.”

  Jase nodded, then waved to the crowd, who were still standing, clapping, as he made his way off the stage.

  Chris’s admiration for Jase had just reached new heights.

  “HOW are they going to judge this?” Darren whispered as they awaited the last model to come off the stage.

  “They’ve got a machine to register the level of applause,” Gabe told him in a low voice. “We all go out front, Chris will go along the line, and they’ll applaud for each model. The one who gets the most cheers wins.” He glanced in Jase’s direction. “Playing the gay card seems to have worked well for you.”

  Jase was stunned into silence.

  Tattooed Guy arched his eyebrows. “Are you for real?”

  Another model shook his head. “What was he supposed to do? It was obvious that woman was a homophobe, else why would she have left like that? He wasn’t playing a card. He was being honest. And let’s face it, that kind of honesty could easily backfire. It could have cost him a contract.”

  “You’re right,” Darren said gravely. “There’s a publishing company at this con who doesn’t even want LGBTQ characters in their books, never mind on the covers.” He gave Jase a warm smile. “Good for you.”

  The last model stepped backstage. “He wants us all out t
here, guys.”

  They filed out onto the stage in the same order as before, amid loud applause.

  Chris held up his hand for silence. “Okay. I’m going to go along the line, pausing at each model. When I raise my hand, that’s your cue to applaud as loud as you can. Rachel over there will be noting the volume level for each model. When we’re done, she’ll bring me the name of the winner.” He glanced along the line. “Good luck, guys.”

  Chris slowly made his way along the line, and at each stop the air was filled with rapturous applause. Jase couldn’t tell who had received more claps and cheers, so he knew it was going to be a close-run thing. When the applause died down, Chris returned the mic to its stand and waited as Rachel peered at her notes. She scribbled on a piece of paper, folded it, then hurried up the steps at the far end of the stage.

  “Here you go,” she said with a smile as she handed it to Chris. “That was tough.” She walked off the stage, and a hush fell over the crowded room.

  Chris spoke into the mic. “And the winner of the 2018 Cover Model contest is….” He paused dramatically for several seconds, then grinned. “Don’t you just hate it when they do that on all those reality shows?” Laughter greeted his words.

  Jase just wanted it to be over. The adrenaline rush he’d gotten after outing himself had left him shaking, and all he wanted was to sit somewhere quiet and have a cold drink.

  Chris unfolded the paper and beamed. “And the winner is… Jase Mitchell!”

  Jase swallowed, his breathing quickening as the audience stood and cheered him, the high-ceilinged room echoing to the sound. The other models applauded, including Gabe, with a smile pasted on his face that didn’t reach his eyes.

  In the front row, a woman got to her feet and made her way onto the stage. She smiled at Jase as she passed him before coming to a stop beside Chris, who handed her the mic.

  “Good afternoon. I’m Kirstin Williams, the CEO of Trailblazer Press. I’m delighted to offer Jase a contract with us. Trailblazer Press has just released its first LGBTQ titles, and we’re really excited to expand into this amazing market. But I can’t wait to see Jase on the covers of all our romances.” She held out her hand, and Jase stepped out of the line to shake it, still stunned by the result.