Healing Hearts (Stealing Hearts Book 2)

by K. Evan Coles

  THIEF OF HEARTS

  STEALING HEARTS #1

  K. Evan Coles

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Thief of Hearts (Stealing Hearts, #1)

  Copyright © February 9, 2019 by K. Evan Coles

  Dedication

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  About K. Evan Coles

  Contact

  Other works by K. Evan Coles

  Author’s Note

  Sign up for K. Evan Coles's Mailing List

  Further Reading: Healing Hearts

  Some hearts are made to be stolen.

  Mark Mannix doesn’t believe in love or romance, which is ironic given his birthday falls on Valentine’s Day. As he approaches forty, Mark is perfectly content with his life and nursing career in Boston, and—outside of his long-time friend-with-benefits, Alistair—prefers his hookups to be one-night stands.

  When Mark’s plans for New Year’s Eve fall through, he attends his sister’s party and meets Owen Todd, a graphic designer of Caribbean descent. Owen is more than a decade younger than Mark and, at first glance the two men appear to have little in common. The chemistry between them is potent, however, and Mark breaks his no-strings pattern, seeing Owen week after week.

  A connection forms between the two men, leaving Mark in uncharted territory and drawn to Owen in ways he’s never known before. Even so, Mark continues his hookups with Alistair but is startled when Owen withdraws out of a desire to protect himself. His foundations shaken, Mark must decide if he can watch Owen walk away or ... if the time has come to follow his heart in a new direction.

  Copyright © February 9, 2019 by K. Evan Coles

  All rights reserved.

  This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  This book contains erotic material and is intended for mature readers.

  Edited by Rebecca Fairfax

  Cover by K. Evan Coles

  Dedication

  For my son, who makes me laugh every day.

  Enormous thanks to Beth, Jayme, and Shelli, who generously donated their time to help fix my words, and Rebecca, my editor ninja. You all make my stories so much better.

  CHAPTER ONE

  “Did you bring the wine?”

  Mark Mannix shifted one of the cloth grocery bags he’d been lugging and heard a clank. “I hope that’s what’s in these, because they’re fucking heavy. And hello to you too, by the way.” He raised an eyebrow at his sister. “Mind letting me in? I don’t want to stand out here in the hallway while your neighbors gawk.”

  Lauren snickered, but she held her front door open wider so Mark could cross the threshold into her apartment.

  “Thank you.” He leaned in for a hug. He hadn’t planned on spending New Year’s Eve with his twin sister and her fiancé in their Boston waterfront condo. He’d considered it until an opportunity more debauched had come along, just as it had for the last several years running. Mark’s plans for debauchery had fallen through this year, however, and now here he was with Lauren and Keith, helping them prep.

  “You’re welcome.” Lauren kissed Mark’s cheek, then stepped back and held out her hands. She was still clad in a bathrobe and her hazel eyes sparkled with good spirits. “I’ll take your coat if you’d bring that bag to the kitchen. Keith is making some kind of cocktail with merlot, Campari, and limoncello and he wants to try the recipe out on you.”

  “Sounds interesting, I think.” Mark set the bags down so Lauren could help him peel off his black wool coat. “He couldn’t just make sangria?”

  “Apparently not. Keith marches to the beat of a slightly dented drum and if he wants to research drink recipes on YouTube, who am I to stop him?” Lauren gathered the coat over her arm and Mark headed for the kitchen with a laugh.

  “You made it!” Keith gave Mark a big sunny smile the moment he stepped through the kitchen door. “Thanks for bringing more booze. You’re a lifesaver.”

  “You’re welcome.” Mark handed a couple of the bags off to Keith. “I used to pick this stuff up for Mom and Dad, too, so I knew where to shop. I was going to make some cranberry cream cheese dip, by the way, but Lo told me your need for bubbly was infinitely more dire.”

  “My girl knows me well.” Keith’s dimples showed. Like Mark, he wore a dress shirt and jeans, and his big frame practically vibrated with good-mood vibes. At six foot four, he seemed to fill the whole kitchen. “I’d have been more than happy to eat your dip, because yum. You should make it the next time we get together for Shitty Movie Night!”

  Mark shook his head. “I’m thinking we’ll do spaghetti and meatballs that night, so better not. I can make the dip right now, however. I’d already bought the ingredients, and I brought everything along.”

  “This is just one of the reasons I love you, Mark. And as a thank-you, I’m going to be your personal drinks butler for the next hour. I’m glad you decided to come.” Keith patted Mark’s shoulder. “You’ll know half the people we invited from work anyway.”

  “So I gathered from what folks were saying.” Mark said. He and Keith worked together as nurses at Mass. Eye and Ear and Mark felt sure his friend had extended invitations to everyone on the staff.

  Keith smirked. “Lauren invited some of her co-workers, too, and they’re mostly dudes. Maybe you’ll find someone fun to start the New Year with, hmm?”

  “Don’t let my sister hear you say that,” Mark warned, but Keith just scoffed.

  “She knows you have sex. We’re both aware that’s why you were going to blow us off in the first place, as usual. Alistair waved a naked party in your face and you folded like a cheap suitcase.”

  Mark snorted out a laugh. “It’s not a naked party. It’s a drag ball. And, really, can you blame me?”

  “Nah. Kind of shitty that he pulled out at the last minute, though.” Keith sniffed. “I know you guys are just casual and all, but Alistair strikes me as kind of a douche.”

  “You’ve never met him.”

  “I know this. Despite you and he screwing around for years.” Keith made little effort to hide his disdain. “I’m not sure what you think that says about the guy, Mark, but to me it says ‘I’m a douche.’”

  “He’s a good guy,” Mark insisted. “Yeah, we’re friends with benefits, but he’s always been really decent about the friend part.”

  “Eh, fine. I still think you can do better, man.”

  Just then, Mark wondered if Keith didn’t have a point. It had been shitty of Alistair to leave Mark high and dry like this. Not that Mark wasn’t capable of entertaining himself, but the disappearing act didn’t meet the criteria of “good buddy” in any way. Mark needed a drink before he started thinking such thoughts, though, and he set about helping Keith make that happen.

  Lauren popped back in, clad in a shiny dress that put stars in her eyes, and the three chatted while they finished the party prep. They laughed and joked so Mark hardly noticed the passing time and in what seemed an eye blink, the apartment had filled with people. True to Keith’s word, many were friends and
coworkers of Mark, and greeted him with unbridled delight.

  “You’re very popular.”

  Mark glanced up from the cocktail shaker he’d been using to concoct another drink and met a pair of dark, smiling eyes.

  Happy New Year to me. Hello there, Tall and Handsome.

  “I’m not supposed to be here,” Mark said to the young man at his side. “I work with a lot of these people and they’re nice enough to not hold it against me for nearly blowing them off. Can I interest you in an Italian Sangria?” Mark gestured to the shaker.

  A grin lit the elegant angles of the young man’s face. “Is that a thing?”

  “It is tonight.” Mark topped the red wine and orange juice he’d already poured with Amaretto, limoncello, and Campari, then replaced the shaker’s cap. “I’m not sure where Keith found the recipe but it’s quite tasty.”

  He also pulled himself straighter, very aware his new acquaintance stood at least an inch over his own six feet. The young man’s all-black ensemble lent him a striking edge too, as did the tight platinum-tipped curls on his head.

  “Should I be nervous?” The young man’s expression turned teasing, and mmm, his voice was like honey and smoke. “I know you’re Lauren’s brother, but for all I know you could be mixing up furniture polish.”

  I wonder if he asked Lauren about me.

  Mark pushed the thought away. “These drinks are far tastier than polish,” he said. “And, Keith mixed one for me earlier which, as you can see, has not killed me.” He rattled the shaker, then strained its contents into an old-fashioned glass and added two fat cubes of ice from the bucket.

  The young man set his beer bottle down and accepted the glass, his gaze on the foamy red concoction. “Is it really called Italian Sangria?” he asked.

  “No, but I haven’t bothered trying to come up with something more clever. Keith swears it’s named after Benito Mussolini, but I think he’s full of shit.”

  The young man smiled and sipped the drink, and the obvious pleasure on his face sent a pulse of warmth through Mark. “Not bad at all.”

  “I thought so, too. So, you know I’m Lauren’s brother, which probably means you know my name is Mark.”

  “So she said. I’m Owen.”

  Mark shook the hand Owen extended. “That’s much easier than what I’ve been calling you in my head.”

  Owen raised an eyebrow. “Which is what?”

  “Tall and Handsome. Both true, but a bit of a mouthful.” Owen’s raspy laugh made Mark’s nerves zing.

  “I can’t promise to answer to Tall and Handsome, but I won’t hold it against you, either.”

  They spent the next hour or so chatting while they moved around the party with their drinks and sometimes plates of snacks, neither straying very far, like magnets drawn together. And though Mark was being less than sociable toward the rest of his friends, he doubted anyone would blame him, because Owen was stunning. His tawny brown skin and lush lips were flawless, and the spray of tiny freckles across his nose almost too appealing.

  Owen worked as a designer in the Creative Department for Lauren’s firm, Bloom & Glass. He’d come to the party with another pair of co-workers, one of whom was also Owen’s roommate, and he was smart and funny, a combination of positives that pinged Mark’s attraction in very nice ways. Owen was also eleven years younger than Mark’s thirty-nine. Mark didn’t consider the age difference to be a non-starter, but it had been a very long time since he’d chatted up a man who didn’t live on his own.

  Regardless, Mark found Owen as easy to talk to as he was on the eyes, and they settled into a cozy corner of the living room with a view of the harbor and chatted about whatever came to mind.

  “Do you and Lo work together a lot?” Mark asked, then shook his head at himself. “Sorry, force of habit. I meant Lauren.”

  “No, we don’t,” Owen replied. “We’re grouped on the same project teams but we tend to be on opposite ends of the process. Lauren does the writing and I work on marketing collateral for the final product—physical things like pamphlets and brochures if they’re needed, but also web content and applications.”

  “Sounds interesting and very much something I’d be terrible at.” Mark shared a smile with Owen. “I couldn’t draw a straight line if you paid me, so it’s probably better I went to nursing school.”

  “Lauren said you’re a specialist, too.”

  “I’m a Nurse Practitioner. So Extreme Nursing, if you can imagine such a thing.” He smirked at Owen’s soft laughter. “Keith and I work together at Mass. Eye and Ear. We’re both in Emergency ENT, so it’s all ears, noses, and throats.”

  Owen nodded. “Cool. You’ve had some famous singers as patients, right?”

  “Yes. But most of the people who pass through the department are tense because they’re in pain or worried or both. The vibe isn’t exactly fanboy central.”

  “There you are.” Lauren slid into the seat on Mark’s other side. “I wondered where the two of you had gotten to.” She grinned at Owen, her cheeks pink. “Please tell me Mark’s being nice to you.”

  “He’s good at mixing drinks, so he’ll do,” Owen said. His wink made Mark’s stomach do a giddy flip.

  “I’m a fucking delight,” he declared, but Lauren rolled her eyes.

  “You’re an epic pain in the ass,” she said. “I’ve hardly seen you since people starting arriving and I thought maybe you’d gotten bored and left.”

  “I wouldn't do that without telling you,” Mark chided. “I’m not that rude. Besides, I’ve been mixing drinks for Owen and he is the opposite of boring.”

  Lauren hummed. “That’s nice to hear, given your twenty-second attention span.” Her gaze shifted to Owen. “Mark gets flighty when he hangs out with straight people for too long.”

  “Oh, sweetie, you are so cut off.” Mark made a playful grab for her glass but while Lauren blocked him and laughed, the fondness in her gaze tugged at his heart in a nice way.

  “I’m glad you’re here,” she said. “Especially since this is the first New Year’s we’ve spent together in a while! And even more so because this is nowhere near as fabulous as your original plans.”

  “Eh, it’s not so bad. And I’m glad too.” Mark was surprised to find he meant it, not only because he loved his sister and Keith, but because his evening was turning out very pleasantly, thanks to Owen. On impulse, Mark dropped a quick kiss on Lauren’s cheek. “Thanks for hosting. And for inviting me. And for your fiancé, who taught me to mix these weird-ass drinks.”

  Lauren smirked. “You’re welcome, doofus.” She got to her feet, eyeing Mark and then Owen. “If you two decide to ditch us for something cooler, I won’t blame you. I know this is sort of tame for handsome boys like yourselves. But say goodbye before you go so I can hug and embarrass you properly.”

  “Where were you supposed to be tonight?” Owen asked after Lauren had slipped off again.

  “In Providence with a friend of mine. We had tickets to a drag ball with a Moulin Rouge theme.” Mark nodded at Owen’s knowing look.

  “Nice. Not sure I would have pegged you as a fan of musicals.”

  Mark laughed. “I’m not, but I am fond of a sparkly corset.”

  “So what happened?”

  “My friend decided Rhode Island wasn’t grand enough and booked a trip to Reykjavik for the week.” With Mark’s other friend, Ellis, no less. Mark had known Alistair and Ellis were screwing around, of course, but that didn’t make him any less annoyed that he’d been left behind. “I’d have loved to see Iceland with Alistair, but I’m working tomorrow and that means no overseas trip for me.”

  “Hmm.” Owen furrowed his eyebrows. “How come you decided not to go to Providence anyway?”

  “There didn’t seem much point. Alistair changed his mind about the ball at nearly the last minute and most of my other friends had already made plans. Going solo to a drag ball isn’t my idea of a good time. What about you?” He eyed Owen’s stylish clothes. “Do you and your fri
ends have plans beyond Lauren and Keith’s?”

  “There’s talk of after parties and a trip to Chinatown for some late-night eats,” Owen replied, “but I’m down for whatever. I’m...flexible.”

  The moment caught and hung between them, buzzing with energy, and Mark returned Owen’s slow smile. “My favorite.”

  He liked this young man. The way Owen smiled, his raspy voice and laugh, and the way he moved his dark, liquid eyes over Mark with obvious appreciation.

  “The fireworks go off soon,” Mark said. “You want to step onto the balcony and grab a spot before it gets too crowded? The view is fantastic.” Pleasure unfurled inside him at the way Owen’s eyebrows rose.

  “That sounds good.”

  “Okay.” Mark pushed to his feet. “Grab your coat and meet me in the kitchen.”

  Working to be stealthy, Mark and Owen lifted a bottle of wine from the refrigerator and glasses from the counter, and while Mark suspected Keith spotted them, he and Owen ducked out on to the balcony without being stopped. The shock of quiet, chilly air made a bracing change from the heat and noise of the party, and made Mark feel hyperalert.

  Owen set the glasses on the patio table and stepped up to the railing, unabashed in his admiration of the view of the wharfs across the street and Boston Harbor beyond. “You were right. This is gorgeous.”

  “My sister wants to keep this apartment forever, just for the view.” Mark worked at the foil on the bottle.

  “I don’t blame her. I’m surprised she and Keith don’t live out here.”

  “Pretty sure fear of hypothermia is the only thing that stops them. It’s not bad tonight, though.”

  “Agreed.” Owen met Mark’s glance with a sweet half-smile. “What about you? Is there a view at your place that can beat this?” he asked.

  “I’m biased, but I’d say mine’s better. I live in the West End and my side of the building looks out over the Charles River.” Mark popped the cork. “The balcony’s small, like the rest of the place, but it works for me. The critical thing is that it’s quiet and has a big bed where I can sleep until the cows come home on my days off.”