by Tara Lain
“I guess you better had.”
He turned and stalked toward the door to the garage. Well, damn. He stopped and turned. Lindsey still stood by the Tesla sedan. Seth puffed his cheeks. Why the fuck was he doing this? “Look, I know I’m way out of my depth here, but I thought that guy and his dad were a little creepy, and I think you can do way better.” Lindsey opened his mouth and Seth held up a hand. “I know, I know. I should shut the fuck up and mind my own business.”
“No. I was just going to say that I agree. I could do better.”
Seth opened his mouth, closed it, and stared at that complicated, sad, gorgeous face. “Good.” He turned and walked out of the garage. Funny, Lindsey said he could do better, not that he would.
Lindsey watched Seth walk out of the garage. So that was it. Gone. Good. He pushed away from the car and walked through the covered walkway to the house. He felt weirdly sad. Usually he distracted himself from all he was missing with his work, his sports, and his adventures. But distraction was pretty hard with Seth in his face. Jesus, why did the man have to be gay?
I could have dreamed in peace when I thought Seth was untouchable.
Now dreaming, yearning, longing was not only stupid but downright dangerous. What if Lindsey pushed Seth too far and the human took Lindsey up on his invitations? He could maintain his distance and equilibrium with somebody like Bruce. The guy was barely exciting enough to get Lindsey erect. But Seth? What if they had sex?
He shuddered. Good grief, he got hard just thinking about it. Scratching, biting, howling. At the least, the guy would find out more about Lindsey’s real nature than it was smart for him to know. At the worst, Lindsey might actually hurt Seth. Not happening. He sighed.
He plodded through the hall from the kitchen to the staircase and started to climb.
“Lindsey.”
He smiled and turned on the stairs. “Hi, Pop-Pop.”
“I heard the polo match was quite the Vanessen show.” His strong white teeth flashed. At seventy-five, Casper Vanessen made most forty-year-olds look weak, slow, and boring. He still headed Vanessen Enterprises and commanded with a combination of wisdom and strength. Lindsey adored him.
“Probably not as much as might have been reported, but we did win.”
“Did you enjoy the event?”
“Yes.” He looked down at his feet, then back at Pop-Pop. “I met a great boy who’s from the home for abandoned kids that the event was supporting. He loves polo, and I thought maybe I could take him over to see the ponies, maybe get him out of there for a while. He doesn’t seem to get on too well with one of the ladies who runs the place.”
“Troublemaker, do you think?”
“No. Just an energetic, inquisitive adolescent.” He smiled and looked down again.
“Lindsey, what’s wrong?”
“Nothing, sir. I’m doing well.”
“Come talk to me.” His grandfather turned and walked into the living room.
Did he want to talk? He’d have to be careful, but yes. Pop-Pop was a smart man. He walked down the stairs and into the large, comfortable room. His grandfather sat on a love seat at one end of the room, so he took the identical seat across from him. He leaned back and crossed his legs. Look relaxed.
Pop-Pop sat forward. “Romantic troubles?”
Wow. The old man had a way of diving to the truth. “Not exactly.”
“I heard you had a date with the Westerberg son. Your mother’s doing, I believe.” The old man could have been talking about a date with a girl, he was so comfortable with it.
“Yes, sir.”
“Did you like him?”
“Well enough.”
“Ah, so he’s not the issue.”
Lindsey grinned. His grandfather was enjoying the guessing game.
“So if it’s not exactly romantic troubles, what exactly is it?”
“I guess you could call it unrequited romantic interest.”
He rubbed his hands together. “Now this is interesting. I’ve seen you with many men over the years since you returned from school, but none of them lasted more than a few dates, and none of them ever sparked what I would call romantic interest. How odd that you should affix your affection on one who doesn’t care about you. Have you considered it might be a form of self-protection? Only wanting the ones you can’t have has a way of keeping you single.”
Lindsey grinned. “I guess that’s possible sometimes, but not in this case. He’s just highly inappropriate. A tough cop I met while helping Dave with the kidnapping issue. Dave asked if I would take him to the polo match to give him a chance to investigate among people we know without being too obvious. So I did it.” Lindsey shrugged.
“And got caught in your own trap.”
He smiled, but it hurt around the edges. “Yes, I guess. I found him attractive from the start but assumed he was straight, so it was just a harmless flirtation. After the match, I found out he’s gay, so that made the vast expanse between us more real.”
Pop-Pop frowned. “It’s not like you to discriminate based on class.”
“Nothing like that, sir. He’s the one discriminating, I’m sure. I’m simply not at all his type. A bit too lavender silk for his black leather, shall we say.”
His grandfather steepled his fingers and stared over them. “You’re not just one thing, Lindsey. I’ve know many men in my life and you’re one of the very best. Smart, decisive, action-oriented, kind, and basically good. Unlike your father, I might add. You need a man who sees that. But you’ve got good judgment, so if you think this cop is romance-worthy, then my bet is there’s something there worth pursuing. Ride him down, son!” He laughed that big robust sound that had comforted Lindsey since the day he was born.
Lindsey smiled. “Thank you for your counsel, sir. I’ll take it under advisement.” He got up and gave the old man a big hug.
Shit. Fuck. Crap. Motherfucker. Seth sipped the beer and picked at the label on the bottle. Do not call. Do not call. He stared at his cell phone sitting in front of him on the bar like it was a snake.
The bartender wiped the condensation from the polished wood when Seth picked his bottle up for a sip. Nothing better to do. It was early for a gay bar crowd.
Sunday noon sun peeked through the tightly closed blinds. Seth turned and leaned his back against the edge of the bar. A couple of guys sat at a table holding hands, and two singles perched farther down the bar. One of them was a big bear and the other a tiny twink. Talk about your study in contrasts. Like looking at a Great Dane and a Chihuahua. Hard to believe they were the same species.
Which one did he like? Hell, something better take his mind off the fucking queen. He shoved his package forward just a bit. Advertising.
Bam. The bear got up and ambled over toward Seth. He lowered himself onto the barstool next to him. “Buy you a drink?”
“Still got one, thanks.”
“Anything else you’d like?”
Seth turned back around toward the bar. His fucking phone stared him in the face. “Maybe.”
The guy outweighed Seth by fifty pounds at least and topped him by two or three inches. Hair sprouted from the top of his T-shirt in contrast to his shaved skull. “Name’s Aaron.”
“Seth.”
He stuck a fat finger out and pushed the edge of Seth’s cell phone. “You waiting for this thing to ring?”
Seth chuckled. Aaron was a smarty bear. “Not exactly. Trying to keep from picking it up.”
“Yeah. Been there.” He sipped from his own beer bottle. “Who’s winning?”
“Not sure yet.”
“Hey, I’m hoping for a power failure because I think you’re gorgeous.” He tipped the bottle toward Seth, then swigged.
“You’re pretty gorgeous yourself.” There it was. Aaron was his type down to the ground. He liked big, hairy guys he couldn’t hurt with a little unnecessary roughness. He liked guys you’d never think were gay. Shit!
“Want to spell it out for me?”
; Seth shrugged. “There’s this guy.”
“I kinda knew that part.” Aaron grinned and flashed white teeth and a tongue stud.
“He’s not my type at all.”
He nodded his big bald head. “They never are until they are.”
“No, I mean really. He’s all silk scarves and ‘darling’ this and ‘darling’ that. A flaming queen. It’s embarrassing to be gay with guys like that around.”
“There must be something about him you like.”
“I need him.”
“Hell, that’s everything.”
“No, no. I mean professionally. He can do stuff for me that will help me in my job.”
Aaron frowned. “Hey, buddy, there’s a name for shit like that, and they write it on bathroom walls.”
Seth ran a hand through his escaped curls. “I’m not explaining myself very well. I’m a—a cop, and this guy can get me access to some places that I need to go to investigate. I’m working on a big case, and he could be the key to solving it.” Yeah, that was it. That’s why he needed to call.
“Oh, I see. You had me going for a minute. So you’re a cop? Should I be worried?”
Seth glanced at the guy and waved a hand. “Hell no. I’m just sorting through shit. You’re helping. Thanks.”
“Okay, so this guy can give you entrée to important, uh, informants.”
“Yeah.”
“But he’s this queen and, what? People will think you’re a couple?”
“Yeah. They could.” Shit, would that be awful? Yeah, awful.
“A lot of cops don’t like fags.”
“I can’t ever let the guys on my team meet him. Unless they know he’s part of my investigation. Shit, it’s tough enough being a gay cop without them thinking he’s my, you know, boyfriend.”
“So you don’t really like this guy, right? You just need his contacts and you don’t want to call and ask.”
Seth dropped his head in his hands.
“Uh, or maybe not?”
He raised his head. “Who am I kidding? The fucking queen turns me on.” He took a drink of his beer. “He rides horses. You should see it. It’s like poetry in motion. Erotic poetry. But the real shitbag is that he even makes me hot when he’s prancing around like a movie queen. And the shit is, I’d probably bust the guy in half with the first fuck. I don’t know who I am anymore.”
“Bad news for me, but I think you’re in lust, man. You better fuck the guy and get it out of your system.” He took a big drink. “And then come back to old Aaron and I’ll make you feel good.”
Seth looked up at Aaron. The man ought to be just what the doctor ordered. A quick trip to the men’s room or a nice walk to the alley and no more ball clog. No more head full of Lindsey Vanessen. He sighed. But his cock was not interested. The damned thing just lay there. Traitor.
He pulled some money from his pocket, tossed it on the bar, nodded at the bartender, and pointed at Aaron. “Please give my friend another beer.” He turned to the big man. “Thanks a lot.”
“Shit, man, I just talked myself out of a good blow job.”
“How do you know it’d be good?” Seth smiled.
“Because I’d be giving it.” The tongue stud flashed.
“Whoa. You really know how to hurt a guy.”
“So good luck figuring out what this guy does for you.”
“Yeah. Thanks again.” He grabbed his phone, stared at it, and walked out into the early afternoon sun. Okay, shit. He was a cop; just the facts. No matter how he felt about him, Lindsey could gain him access to places he would have trouble going on his own. Or more particularly, he could go, but only as a cop. Lindsey could get him in undercover. That access could get him on top of this case. It wasn’t about being on top of Lindsey. Whoa. Cock wiggle on that thought.
He needed Lindsey. He sighed. That was his story and he was sticking to it.
He stopped beside the bike, pulled up the number on his phone, and hit Send. One ring. Two rings. Three—
“Hello?” The voice sounded unsure and tentative. Like the Lindsey he’d left in the garage.
“Uh, Lindsey?”
“Yes.”
“This is Seth.”
“I know.”
“Uh, are you okay?”
“Why wouldn’t I be?”
“You haven’t called me darling yet.”
Silence. Then he started to laugh, a musical sound that traveled down Seth’s spine and made three circles of his groin before diving to his balls. “Yes, darling, what can I do for you?”
“I hate to ask you to help me again since you’ve been so cooperative, but I sure could use an entrée into that country club of yours. Is there any chance you could, uh, go there with me?”
“You mean take you there?”
“I’d pay. I mean, the department will.”
Pause. “My oh my, how could I resist a meal compliments of Connecticut’s finest?”
“So you’ll go?”
Another pause, longer this time. “Yes, I’ll go. When?”
Seth swallowed and pressed a hand against his overactive cock. “How about tonight?”
“Lieutenant Zakowsky, what kind of man would I be if I didn’t already have a date for tonight and jumped at a last-minute invitation?”
“Uh, a man who wants to help out the dedicated efforts of his local law enforcement?” He held his breath.
“Yes, that describes me precisely.” This time the laugh didn’t bother to circle Seth’s cock. It just dove.
Chapter Six
Lindsey stood in his closet wearing teal boxer briefs and nothing else. How did one look really, really good—irresistible, in fact—without trying too hard?
Damn. He stalked from the closet, crossed to his big bed, and sat. He never wore the teal boxers unless he planned on getting some. What exactly did he have in mind? Murder/suicide? Jesus.
Of course, just because Zakowsky had called didn’t mean he was planning on seducing Lindsey. Ha, as if seduction would be required. But the chances of sex happening had gone up several thousand times since Seth had clearly made up an excuse to take Lindsey out. Did he have sex in mind? And if so, could Lindsey do it? Could he control himself when all he wanted to do was lose control?
Get dressed. He’d agreed to go and boxer briefs were not dress code at the country club. Besides, if nothing else, he’d find out more about how far along the police were in capturing the kidnappers. Yes, that was his story.
Back in the closet, he chose tight black slacks, a white dress shirt, a teal leather sport coat to match his boxers, and black ankle boots. He layered his favorite lavender scarf into the open neck of the shirt and added a diamond earring into his pierced right ear. The golden hair flowing free around his face added the final touch. There. He might as well emphasize how completely he wasn’t Seth’s type. It would save everyone a lot of torn clothing and scratches on their backs.
One last glance in the mirror and he headed out the door of his suite. He was halfway down the stairs to the main floor when the doorbell rang. Wow. Heart racing. Rooted to the spot. He heard James, his butler, greet the guest. Then Seth’s deep, rumbly baritone followed. Could you have an orgasm from the sound of a voice? Add that man’s heavenly smell and Lindsey was a goner.
James walked into the receiving room, leading Seth. The butler looked up and saw Lindsey—stuck. “Oh, sir. I didn’t know you were here. Uh, you have a guest.”
Seth stared at him. He stared at Seth. A gray suit. He wore a gray suit that fit like it had been tailored to his broad shoulders and big biceps. He’d pulled his hair back tight but the tendrils escaped as always. Funny, the soft hair didn’t feminize that chiseled face. It just made him look more male in contrast. Best of all, he’d tucked the scarf Lindsey had given him into the neck of his white shirt. Lindsey swallowed hard.
Seth kept staring.
Lindsey’s grandfather’s voice came from his right. “Excuse me, don’t mean to interrupt.”
What?
Oh. Lindsey looked toward his grandfather, who had walked in from the living room. “Oh, uh, hi, Pop-Pop.”
The old man grinned. “Since Lindsey seems to have lost his voice, I’m Casper Vanessen.” He stuck a hand out to Seth. “I’m pleased to meet you.”
“Seth Zakowsky.”
“Yes, the policeman, I believe.”
Lindsey gave himself a little shake. “Pop-Pop, Seth is a specialist in kidnapping. I met him at Dave’s.”
“Ah-ha. And you two are going—?” He waved a hand inquiringly.
Lindsey swallowed. “To the country club, sir.”
Seth nodded. “Lindsey was kind enough to offer to introduce me around. We can’t really investigate the kidnappings without looking into the people closest to the families.”
The old man looked intently at Seth. “Very wise, of course. I hope you two have a lovely evening.”
Lindsey took a breath and forced his feet to move. “Thank you, sir.” He walked over and kissed the old man’s cheek. Hidden from Seth, Pop-Pop gave him a wink. He grinned back. Though grinning may not have been the optimum response.
He turned to Seth. “Shall we go?” He raised a brow. “We wouldn’t want any of those suspects to get away while we dillydally.”
James held his cashmere overcoat while he slipped it on, and he walked to the side door toward the garage. He glanced back to be sure Seth was following, cleared the portico in a few steps, and opened the door to the huge house of vehicles. He swept his hand out in an arc. “Pick a car, any car.”
Seth walked up to him. “I’m sorry I made the whole evening sound so professional, but I wasn’t sure what you might have said to your grandfather.”
Hmm. “But then, it is professional, isn’t it?”
Seth frowned. “Yes, of course.”
Lindsey looked back at the cars. “So choose. We might as well have a little fun while you catch a kidnapper.”
That got the half grin. “The Roadster.”
“Done.”
Seth climbed in the sports car while Lindsey got in the driver’s seat. He was a good driver. Might as well prove it. “Buckle up and hold on.”