by Cindy Dees
The door closed solidly, and Stone stalked over to where Christian leaned against the bedroom wall. “In case you’d forgotten, someone is trying to kill Jack Lacey.” He planted a hand on the wall beside Christian’s head and leaned in aggressively. “And thanks to your ingenious evil plan, I’m about to be Jack Lacey.”
One side of Christian’s mouth lifted in amusement. “Your usual intimidation tactics won’t work on me, you know.”
Stone stared. What intimidation—oh. He shoved away from the wall but didn’t go so far as to step back. He was still close enough to smell Christian’s expensive aftershave. He felt his resolve weakening in the face of the man’s general gorgeousness and close proximity.
He sighed. “I need a weapon. And Jack’s from Texas, for crying out loud. Nobody will think twice if the guy’s packing a piece.”
“That’s why you’ve got Tucker.”
He did the protecting. He wasn’t the protected. He wouldn’t even begin to know how to let someone else be responsible for his safety. The mere idea was giving him mental hives.
He resorted to asking, “Speaking of Travis, have you told him about this whackadoodle plan of yours?”
“Not yet. I thought I might test out the finished product on him and see how close a match you are.”
He rolled his eyes. This was arguably the dumbest stunt he’d ever pulled. He had a sinking feeling that when this all went to hell—and it surely would—his ass was going to be grass right along with Jack’s and Christian’s.
He spun away from Christian and all that smoking-hot temptation. How was he supposed to focus on becoming Jack Lacey when all he wanted to do was take the senator’s aide to bed?
Strong, soothing hands touched his waist. Slid around to the front, where his abdominal muscles contracted, and his dick expanded. A warm body pressed against his back as Christian leaned in. He felt Christian’s cheek come to rest against his neck.
He let the comfort and commiseration the man was silently offering soak into his bones. It steadied him. Centered him.
In the bubble of calm that built around them, he was able to think clearly for a moment. Yes, this was a crazy plan. But it could work. Even if it didn’t work, they could claim it was a protective measure to safeguard the senator, who was being threatened. He didn’t know a damned thing about politics, but Christian was super smart. He would figure out a way to spin the whole thing to Jack’s advantage.
It would be okay. With Christian supporting him, he could pull this off.
He laid his hands over Christian’s in silent thanks for the man’s reassurance. They stood like that for a minute, and he soaked up the unfamiliar and wholly lovely intimacy. This moment wasn’t about raw sex. It was about more. About shared stress, about working together, facing down the world as a team. This would be what it felt like if they were in a real relationship with each other.
And he loved it.
Stunned, he went stock-still and absorbed that revelation.
Huh.
A relationship—at least a relationship with Christian—might not be that bad a thing after all. In fact, it might be kind of spectacular.
A knock on the door made them both jump apart guiltily.
He didn’t like the sensation of feeling guilty and secretive about Christian. A completely unfamiliar urge to go public, to tell the world about the amazing man he’d found, came over him.
Whoa.
It was the makeup artist at the door. She was young and cool and seemed to think it was a great joke to make him up to look like Jack Lacey. She studied the eight-by-eleven glossy headshot of the senator that Christian handed her and then compared it to Stone’s face for long enough that he started to feel squirmy.
Finally she announced, “I can do it. I can transform him”—she pointed at Stone—"into him.” She waved the picture of Jack. “And I don’t even think I’m going to need any prosthetics.”
Thank God. He really didn’t need bits of latex glued all over his face. This was going to be hard enough without trying to keep those from falling off at an inconvenient moment.
“Get comfy, big guy. This is going to take a while.” She went to work with a triangular sponge, dabbing something all over his face.
“Mind you,” she added, “I’ll get faster at this the more times I apply the makeup.”
“How long—” he started.
“Don’t talk,” she ordered absently, already engrossed in her work.
Christian piped up, “But you can listen to me. I need to bring you up to speed on all the stuff Jack would know.”
Mentally he groaned.
Christian launched into a mind-numbing briefing on who was going to be at this Chamber of Commerce shindig tomorrow evening. He sounded as if he needed the distraction of work as much as Stone did. Had that embrace in the bedroom gotten to him too?
“You’ll need to practice Jack’s speech, of course. I’ll go over it with you and show you how Jack pauses and breathes.”
A speech? In front of people?
Aww, hell.
He could stand up to a hail of bullets and face down armed hostiles without even a hint of fear. But a crowd of people, all staring at him? Listening to him talk? Judging him? Bored to tears by him? Oh, God.
“Don’t tell me,” Christian said abruptly. “You don’t like public speaking.”
He broke the makeup artist’s command for silence long enough to mutter, “Hate it.”
Christian laughed. The bastard actually laughed. “Well, the good news is no one scheduled to attend this speech has ever met Jack in person. If you blow it completely, they’ll be none the wiser that Jack is actually a damned fine speaker.”
Great. He got to humiliate himself in public in addition to running around wearing makeup and another man’s clothes.
True to his word, the tailor had the first suit back up to the suite in about an hour. Which was about when the makeup artist finished with her masterpiece. He hadn’t been allowed to watch in a mirror as she did her transformation, but he could only imagine he looked like a clown. How on earth one human being could wear so much makeup all at once, he had no idea.
Stone donned the newly tailored suit and stomped into a pair of Jack’s cowboy boots, which, fortunately, fit him with only a little pinching in the toes. He jammed a cowboy hat on his head and scowled as Christian stepped back to observe the effect.
A slow smile spread on his lover’s face. The kind of smile that needed to be kissed away and then put back for entirely different reasons—focus, dammit!
“Dude. You’re a dead ringer for him,” Christian declared.
The makeup artist stood beside Christian, smiling and nodding in agreement. She and Christian traded fist bumps.
“You have no idea how unhappy that makes me,” Stone grunted back.
Christian grinned unrepentantly. “Hey, he’s a handsome man. He performs very well among the middle-aged female demographic.”
“He uses sex appeal to get votes?”
“Whatever works. Jack will do just about anything to get a vote, scruples be damned. He would flat-out buy votes if he thought he wouldn’t get caught.”
“My impression of him was that he would rob a bank if he thought he wouldn’t get caught,” Stone snorted.
“He can be a wee bit… ethically challenged,” Christian allowed.
“Is the pope a wee bit Catholic?” Stone snorted. “You’re giving me a scary education into the inner workings of our political system.”
“Some people think it’s rotten to the core. As for me, I’m optimistic that the ship can be righted from the inside. Hence my goal to work at the Justice Department on its prison reform team.”
He hadn’t pegged Christian for such an idealist. It was a character flaw he’d also been accused of during his military career. It got in the way of success there too, from time to time.
He got it. Sometimes a guy had to do what a guy had to do. Orders came down for pragmatic reasons, and soldier
s like him had to suck it up and do the job, no questions asked. Except he’d asked questions more often than not. He’d argued with superiors and pushed back against the orders that couldn’t be justified ethically. It was why he’d left before he’d put in his twenty years to earn a full retirement. And it was also why he got along great with his bosses now. They knew not to ask him to do anything he couldn’t approve of.
But this. Taking over another human being’s life—a famous person’s life, no less—this was pushing his boundaries.
He looked up sharply as the suite door flew open and Tucker barged in. “Hey, Christian. What did you need me—” Tucker broke off. “Senator Lacey! When did you get back?”
“Told you it would work,” Christian crowed.
Tucker advanced farther into the suite. “What’s going on—”
He drew within spitting distance of Stone and finally discovered the ruse. Tucker’s jaw dropped.
“No way.”
“Wild transformation, isn’t it?” Christian asked archly.
“Okay, that’s freaky,” Tucker replied. He walked a three-sixty around Stone. “Day-umm. You look exactly like him. And why are we playing Impersonate the Boss?”
Stone’s stare narrowed a little. He frankly didn’t like reminding everyone in sight of a giant asshole. “This was Christian’s lame idea. As you know, the senator will be out of pocket at least four or five days. Mrs. Lacey told Christian to find a way to make all of Jack’s appearances happen, and this was the only thing he could come up with.”
“Crazy, man.”
Stone scowled. “Batshit crazy, if you ask me.”
The other men laughed.
“All I have to say is it’s a damned good thing Jill Lacey is paying Wild Cards a freaking fortune to help you out. Otherwise, I’d be out of this clown suit so fast your head would spin.”
“It might work,” Tucker said thoughtfully. “I know the guy like I know my own mother, and I had to practically be in your shorts to realize you weren’t Senator Lacey.”
Tucker was emphatically not the person Stone wanted in his shorts. That person was currently smirking in satisfaction at the success of the ploy.
“Then you’ll help us with the ruse, Travis?” Christian asked. “Even if it gets discovered straightaway, we can still use Stone as bait to draw out whoever’s trying to kill Jack.” Christian explained, “I’m trimming the itinerary to cancel the events where close personal friends of the senator’s are supposed to attend, of course.”
Tucker grinned at Stone. “Talk about dedication to duty. You’re willing to become the guy to protect him.”
“That’s me. I’m the job. We’ll need you to act as my bodyguard tomorrow.”
Tucker nodded. “Sure thing. Could you send me the day’s itinerary, Christian?”
“Will do. We’ll be staying in more and not exposing Stone to anyone until we have to, particularly anyone who’s met Jack before. The senator has the Latin American Chamber of Commerce event tomorrow night. I’ve got a crap-ton of briefings to get through if Stone’s going to convince them he’s Jack.”
“I assume you’re moving into this suite, then?” Tucker asked.
Stone started. He hadn’t given it any thought.
“Yes, he is,” Christian answered smoothly. “And I’ll be remaining in the second bedroom to keep working on teaching him how to be Jack.”
Tucker grinned. “Good luck with that. Just don’t turn him into a giant jerk, okay?”
Christian grinned broadly. “I promise. Jack 2.0 will be significantly nicer and easier to work with than the original, even if I have to beat it into him.”
Hah. He’d like to see the guy try. His gaze and Christian’s met, and challenge glinted between them.
Travis headed for the door. “I’ll let you two get to it, then. G’night.”
Stone shoved a hand through his newly short hair. He’d love nothing more than to get to it with Christian.
“Walk across the room,” Christian ordered.
“What? Why?”
“To see if you walk like him.”
“No one’s going to watch how I walk. As long as I look like him and say what you tell me to, they’ll buy the act.”
“We can’t be too careful. You need to walk like him, talk like him, have the same mannerisms—”
“Let’s not get too carried away, bro. I’m not an actor.”
“No, but you do have to save both our careers.”
Gee. No pressure there. Frowning, Stone walked across the spacious living room.
“No, no, no. That’s all wrong. You march. Jack strolls. You have to roll from your bootheel to the ball of your foot. It’s a cross between a ramble and a swagger.”
“What the hell are you talking about? What does a ramble look like?”
“It’s how Jack walks. Try again.”
He didn’t take three steps before Christian stopped him, saying, “Watch me.”
Stone stared appreciatively at Christian’s muscular thighs and tight ass as the man strode away from him. “Do it like that.”
“Like what?” Stone echoed.
“Concentrate!”
“I am. On your ass.”
Christian whirled, glaring.
Stone grinned broadly. “I’m just saying. Those jeans fit you like a glove, and you have a great caboose. I can tell you do a shitload of squats to get it. A guy’s allowed to appreciate hard work, isn’t he?”
“Don’t you try to butter me up, Stone.”
“Butter, huh? I usually go for a nice water-soluble lube—”
“Stop it,” Christian snapped, grinning reluctantly.
Stone threw up his hands in mock surrender. “All right, already. Show me this walk thing one more time….”
CHRISTIAN WORKED Stone hard all evening long, having him practice Jack’s fake Texas drawl and the even more fake cowboy saunter. He did it as much to distract himself from wanting to jump Stone’s bones as he did it out of necessity.
Honestly, it was a little weird wanting to fuck the man who looked exactly like his much-hated boss. It messed with his head.
Thankfully, Stone’s playful mood passed, and he quit tempting Christian almost beyond endurance. Christian had to admit he secretly enjoyed the flirting that flared up between him and Stone from time to time. His life had never been structured to enable or encourage anyone to actively seduce him or vice versa.
Stone might not be an actor, but he was a hella quick study. In just a few hours of coaching, he had impersonating Jack Lacey down to a fine science.
Moreover, Stone could flip in and out of Jack mode at will. It was mind-bending being hot to trot whenever he dropped the act to be himself and then repelled by the guy when he went full Jack.
As the evening aged and they continued interacting in close proximity to each other, the attraction between them became more and more difficult to ignore.
Stone was feeling it too. Any time he stopped being Jack, his eyes practically lit on fire with desire. It was flattering as hell and too sexy to resist. More than once, Christian leaned in for a kiss, only to pull back hard when Stone drawled something in Jack’s Texas twang.
Weird, weird, weird.
He had to find some other way to keep their minds off the hot sex they both craved. Worse, Tucker came and went, stopping by as if to assure himself that Stone really could pull off the impersonation or maybe that he wasn’t imagining the resemblance between Stone and Jack.
Like it or not, he and Stone were back to being coworkers, and no hint of impropriety whatsoever must mar Christian’s sterling reputation if he was ever going to work at the Justice Department. His work life must remain entirely separate from his private life, which was, well, private. But Lord, that man was tempting.
God help them all if the two of them got caught making out while Stone was in Jack mode. The scandal—it didn’t even bear imagining.
Satisfied that Stone had mastered all the physical aspects of being Jack
Lacey, it was time to move on to the mental aspects. And that meant bringing Stone up to speed on Washington politics in all its messy glory. And fast.
He reached for a file of position papers he’d printed out earlier and pulled the top one off the stack. “I can stop reporters from asking you any questions off script, but I can’t necessarily stop big donors from quizzing you. You’re going to have to learn at least enough about Jack’s politics to fake saying the right thing.”
Within about a half hour of starting to brief him, Stone complained, “Can’t you just step in if someone tries to ask me anything and claim I’ve got another engagement to go to or something?”
“People at a certain level of influence won’t stand for me deflecting them like that.”
“How do you stand being this asshole’s flunky? You’re too smart to be stuck in a job like this.”
“From your mouth to God’s ear,” he replied dryly.
“I mean it. You don’t value yourself highly enough.”
What was he supposed to say to that? He resorted to a noncommittal shrug.
“If I’m stuck being Jack anyway, is there something I can do as him to help you get another gig? Some job that’ll advance your career but without having to sell your soul to Satan?”
“As tempting as that is, it wouldn’t be ethical.”
“Ethical, smethical. I can tell part of you is dying a slow death in this job. I want to help you leave.”
He managed a smile of gratitude, but he felt more like crying at the idea of being done with Jack Lacey at long last. The degree of relief he felt at the idea of quitting this job was shocking.
“You okay?” Stone asked quietly in Stone voice.
“Not really.”
“I didn’t mean to upset you. I just want you to be happy.”
Happy. Now there was a concept. Had he ever been truly happy in his life? To date, his entire modus operandi had been always to look forward to the next goal, to the next brick in the house of life he was trying to build for himself.
But Stone brought up a good point. When was he going to stop and enjoy what he’d already built?
He’d give anything to step off this never-ending treadmill. But not yet. First, they had to get through this crisis Jack had precipitated for all of them.