by Lisa Worrall
Scott wasn't quite sure why the other man made the fine hair on his arms stand up, but he did. Maybe it was because the guy was looking at him as if he wanted him served up on toast. Scott was used to his looks attracting attention but, when someone looked at him the way the man seated at the kitchen table was looking at him right now, Scott's dick usually ended up in their mouth.
The man's deep blue gaze traveled over Scott from head to toe, the expression on his face predatory and insolent. Scott tried to show no reaction when the man lingered on his torso beneath the black tee he wore, then stared at the obvious bulge of Scott's cock and the muscled thighs under the blue jeans. His heavy-lidded gaze studied Scott and his thin lips parted on a smile when he finally reached Scott's face. "I'm Brent Miller, David's partner. I thought I'd drop in and introduce myself. I hope you don't mind."
Scott forced a smile to his lips and shook the hand that was offered to him. "Not at all. I'm Scott Turner. I take it you met Will outside?"
"I did, indeed," Brent drawled crossing his legs and leaning his elbow on the glass topped kitchen table. "I understand from David that you're an IT Consultant."
Scott nodded and leaned against the counter, crossing his ankles. "That's right. I started up my own business about a year ago. It means I can work from home and I don't have to spend as much time away from Will. What do you do?" Scott folded his arms across his chest, suddenly all too aware from the glint in Brent's eyes that the T-shirt he was wearing was a size too small and clung to him like a second skin.
"I own a club in the city, you may have heard of it. The Rose. It's over on Second Avenue," Brent replied, smiling as Scott nodded at the mention of the well-known gay club in New York. "David is my silent partner, but only in the business. Everywhere else he's very vocal." Brent laughed softly at his own wit.
Scott chuckled politely, a grateful smile curving his lips when Will entered the kitchen carrying another cardboard box with 'study' written on the side. "Hey," he said softly. "Is that the last of them?" He reached out and picked an imaginary piece of fluff from Will's sweatshirt. "Brent was just telling me that he owns The Rose, on Second Avenue."
"Wow," Will smiled as he leaned against the counter beside Scott. "The Rose is a great club. We've been there a few times ourselves. It's got a nice vibe."
Will listened quietly as Brent chatted to Scott, noting that the guy could barely take his eyes off his partner, even though Will was stood next to him. Not that that bothered Will, he didn't particularly want Brent leering at him, but he wasn't overly impressed with the way the man was leering at Scott either. A couple of times Will caught Scott glancing at him out of the corner of his eye and the other man's stance stiffen beneath the weight of Brent's intense gaze.
Inwardly rolling his eyes and cursing Scott 'suddenly I'm shy?' Turner, Will reached out a hand and slid a couple of fingers through one of the belt loops on Scott's jeans. He pulled him away from the counter and he noted the way Scott's eyes widened almost imperceptibly, but the other man went with it and allowed Will to guide him so that his back was against Will's chest. Lifting his arms, Will slid them around Scott's waist, taking his weight.
Scott stiffened slightly, but after a pause, placed his hands on top of Will's and relaxed against him, as if it were an everyday occurrence, while he continued to chat with Brent. Will tried to ignore the spicy scent of Scott's cologne, or the gentle stroking the other man had set up on Will's hand. But most of all, he tried to relax enough to make having his arms around Scott Turner look as natural as possible. "I'm sorry," he said, when Brent finished making his point, although he wasn't quite sure what the point was, he was too busy trying not to be distracted by the heat of Scott's body through the fabric of his shirt. "I've forgotten my manners. Would you like a coffee or tea, or something?" He gave a slightly sly smile. "Scott makes a mean cappuccino, don't you, honey?" Will felt Scott's fingers pause in their soft circular motion and bit the inside of his cheek to stop himself from laughing. Everyone in the department knew Scott could barely boil water.
Brent stood and stretched, shaking his head. "No, thank you. I'm fine. I just came to welcome you both to our little community and to let you know that we're going to make it an official welcome next Saturday night." His blue gaze glinted with wicked anticipation as he looked at Scott's muscled forearms where they rested atop of Will's and it was all Will could do not to choke the man with his own tie. "Coincidentally, one of our "gatherings" is taking place next Saturday, so we thought we'd turn it into a double celebration. To welcome you into your new home and, of course, to welcome you into our circle."
"Wow. So soon?" Will tried to sound enthusiastic, although his feet were a little squashed inside his sneakers, because his stomach had just joined them. "That's great." He squeezed Scott a little tighter in what he hoped would have easily been mistaken for affection—rather than the sheer panic it actually was. "We've been looking forward to settling in, haven't we, babe?"
"I'm sure the others will be around to say hi over the next few days, so I'll leave you to your unpacking. It's good to have you with us, gentlemen." Brent's gaze raked over Scott once more. "It's going to be real good."
"Holy shit." Will let out the breath he had been holding after Brent had left, leaving the front door ajar. "Next Saturday? How the fuck are we going to get out of that?"
"Um...Will," Scott said, tapping Will's hands lightly. "He's gone, you can let go now."
Will dropped his arms from around the man's waist as if Scott were suddenly on fire. "Oh, sorry, man. You looked a little nervous," he said, running a hand through his hair and trying to appear casual as Scott stepped away. "I think he liked you." Will couldn't resist the tease.
Sitting down in the chair, Scott flipped him off and sighed. "Now I know what meat on a slab feels like," he joked. "I thought he was going to take a bite." He smiled genuinely at Will. "Thanks for that. He was starting to make me feel really uncomfortable."
"Well that's a first. I wouldn't have thought anything made you uncomfortable." Will pushed himself away from the counter and picked up the suitcase he had left by the kitchen table earlier, ignoring Scott's glare. "Okay, which bedroom are you having?"
"The same one as you," said a voice from the doorway.
Turning to see Damon and Cal smiling at them, Will frowned in confusion. "Excuse me?"
"Look guys, you are now living in a community of gay men," Damon drawled as he and Cal padded into the kitchen and sat down at the table next to Scott. Damon indicated the empty chair and Will sank onto it, frowning in confusion at Damon while he waited for the man to continue. "We're nosy and we're voracious gossips. Every member of this community is going to be traipsing through your house and they will use your bathroom, look in your cupboards, and check out your bedroom. You can't give them any indication that you're sleeping apart."
"I am not sleeping in the same bed as him," Scott said heatedly, crossing his arms like a petulant child.
"Damon's right, guys," Cal chuckled. "If anyone discovers that you don't sleep together, your cover will be blown on day one. I already know Brent has been here and the others will come by, if not tonight, certainly tomorrow, and trust me, they will be all over you like white on rice."
"For once I agree with Turner," Will said firmly, with a shake of his head. The thought of having to lie in the same bed as Scott made his palms decidedly clammy. He was confused enough. He didn't need the point compounded. "We are not sleeping together. We're not gay, Damon."
"Glenn said you'd be like this," Damon sighed, throwing his hands in the air. "He told me to tell you I will be reporting back to him, and if you are not doing everything you can to fit in here at Laurel Heights, he will bounce you back to traffic cops quicker than you can say—" He turned to Cal for assistance. "What was the expression he used, honey?"
"Quicker than you can say license and registration," Cal replied, accepting the soft kiss his boyfriend gave him, with a smile.
"Fuck!" Will and Scot
t muttered the expletive in unison and glared at each other.
"You'd better not snore," Scott hissed.
"I do not snore," Will replied huffily. "Just remember to keep your cologne to a minimum. I don't want to choke in my sleep."
"Fuck you," Scott harrumphed, standing up. "I'm going to get the rest of the stuff." He stomped from the kitchen, and Will heard the slam of the front door.
"Princess," Will mumbled. "Now he's gonna expect me to get up and open the fucking door for him, asshole."
Scott lifted the last of Will's boxes from the back of the SUV and put it down on the ground. Scratching his fingers through the beard growth on his chin, he sighed. He could still feel Will's chin resting on his shoulder, as if he had branded him—left his mark. How the fuck was he supposed to sleep inches away from Will in the same bed? How was he supposed to keep his hands to himself? He's straight, Turner, his inner voice whispered. Don't you think I fucking know that? he hissed back.
When he'd been enfolded in Will's arms in the kitchen, all he'd been able to concentrate on was how easily their hips fit together and the way Will's scent pervaded his nostrils—the musky, spicy smell of the man's cologne and, beneath that, the unmistakable tang of sweat. He'd always been so careful. Not to get too close. Not to let anything give him away. Hiding behind the wall he had surrounded himself with. Now it was all going to come crumbling down and he didn't know how to stop it. Stupid Will 'I'm so straight I can't even bend down to tie my shoes' Harrison. It would be so much easier if the moron were gay. He could just fuck him and get it out of his system.
"Hey, Scott!"
Scott was startled from his inner monologue by Marcus White calling his name as he walked across the cul de sac toward him. He was holding the hand of a man Scott didn't recognize. "Hey," he greeted, raising his hand in acknowledgement. Scott had been of the same opinion as Will in so far as Marcus White was concerned. He'd felt relaxed with Marcus from the get-go. There had only been warmth and reassurance in Marcus's gaze during their interview and he'd gone out of his way to make them feel comfortable.
"This is my boyfriend, Todd Campbell," Marcus grinned, introducing the man beside him. "We thought we'd stop by, say hello, and see if you need any help moving in."
"Hi, Todd. Good to meet you." Scott shook hands with the slender, blond haired man, noting the way he almost clung to Marcus's side. "It's just the box on the floor and then there's one more in the back of the truck. If you grab the one on the ground, Marcus, that would be great." He threw a grateful smile at Todd. "If you wouldn't mind closing up the truck, it would be appreciated." Reaching inside the truck, Scott pulled out the last box and heaved it into his arms and waited until Todd had closed the back of the SUV with a slam. "Thanks, guys. Please, come in for a drink. Damon and Cal are in the kitchen with Will."
"I've been looking forward to meeting you both." Todd followed the two men to the front door, and Scott couldn't help but notice the way his fingers curled into the back of Marcus's T-shirt. "Marcus tells me you're in computers, Scott. I don't want you to think I'm taking advantage of you already, but I've been having a lot of trouble with my laptop. Would you look at it for me?"
"Not a problem." Scott replied with an easy smile, shifting the box in his arms. "Just bring it on over and I'll see what I can do." He hoped to God there wasn't anything intricate wrong with the thing because he'd be flying by the seat of his pants. Grace's faith in his computer knowledge may have been slightly misplaced.
The door was answered by Cal, and Scott headed into the living room, where he put the box he was carrying onto the coffee table. "Thanks," he grinned up at Marcus when the other man did the same and gestured toward the kitchen. "Let's go get that coffee, shall we?"
"Todd! Baby, how are you?" Damon cooed when the three men entered the kitchen. He stood and enfolded the other man in his arms, pressing a soft kiss to his hair. Scott's cop's eye made a mental note of the obviously genuine affection between the two men as Damon steered Todd to a chair. "Todd's been a little under the weather since Jon and Cory, well, you know."
"I'm sorry for your loss," Scott said, reaching out and patting Todd on the shoulder. "We both are." He raised an eyebrow at Will, who got to his feet and slipped an arm around Scott's waist.
"Yes," Will said. "We realize how hard this must be for you all, seeing someone new in this house." He held out a hand to Todd and gave the other man a reassuring smile. "I'm Will. It's nice to meet you, Todd."
While the others sat around the table, Scott set about pouring the coffee that Will had already made. After making sure everyone had a drink, he eased himself up onto the kitchen island, as all the seats were occupied and sipped slowly at his own coffee. Joining in the conversation where needed, Scott sat back and watched Will work the room. He'd seen him at the station interviewing suspects and dealing with victims, and he knew how persuasive and charismatic Will could be. Scott had watched him stare down a hardened criminal and then softly elicit a statement from a frightened witness—but he'd never seen the real Will. But then he guessed Will could say the same about him. The happy go lucky persona in front of him was new and one he had only glimpsed in their interview. He liked it.
He also watched Marcus and Todd interact with each other and those around them. Marcus appeared to be a very mild mannered, outgoing sort of guy. Easily over six feet and broad across the shoulders, his dark hair was closely cropped, and his blue eyes were kind. They learned that Marcus was a record producer, who owned his own company and had several well-known names signed to his label—including Todd.
Scott's gaze fell on Todd, noting how quiet and introverted the young man seemed. Todd's fine, blond hair fell in a curtain around his face, his green gaze darting continually to the door. Scott wouldn't have thought, from his body language alone, that Todd would be the liberal, open minded type. Not for a community as "free-loving" as Laurel Heights. Watching the way Todd clung to Marcus's hand, even while they drank their coffee, Scott worried at his lower lip with his teeth. The guy seemed to be on the verge of flight the whole time, one leg constantly moving up and down as if he were ready to leap at any time. He made a mental note to get Grace and Julie to run a check on Todd. Something wasn't quite right.
"Well," Damon said, about an hour later, when no one showed any signs of moving. "I think we should let these boys get settled in. I'm sure they'll want to start christening the rooms."
"Will would probably want to catalog his toiletries first," Scott said, his tone teasing. "He's a bit anal that way. It's like being in Sleeping with the Enemy."
The other men laughed as Will poked his tongue out and padded to the kitchen island where Scott was perched. "I guess that makes you the pretty woman then," Will drawled, dropping a kiss on Scott's forehead. "Besides, we've only got the bathroom and the bedroom left. We got here early, didn't we, hot stuff?"
Scott forced what he hoped was a natural sounding chuckle up his throat, as Will's fingers dug into his shoulder. "Well, let's just say the years of yoga are finally paying off," he responded, sliding off the counter and following the other men to the door with Will behind him.
"You guys are great," Marcus laughed as he shook Scott and Will's hands again at the front door. "You're gonna fit in well here." He turned to Todd, who was still clinging to his hand. "You ready, babe?" At Todd's nod, Marcus followed Damon and Cal down the path, leaving Will and Scott to close the door behind them.
"Alone at last," Will drawled sarcastically as Scott slid the safety chain across the door.
"Pretty woman?"
"Unbunch your panties, Turner," Will retorted, turning toward the living room. "You know you're the pretty one." Scott's gut tightened at the flush in Will's cheeks when the words had tumbled from his mouth. The man looked like he wanted to grab the words and stuff them back in, but it was too late, they were out there, hanging between them like a fog. They stared at each other for a long pregnant moment and then Will picked up his suitcase. "I'm going to unpack. You wan
na order takeout?"
Scott nodded, not saying a word as his eyes followed Will up the stairs. He knew he hadn't been hearing things. Will had called him pretty. Don't go getting all Harlequin Romance over an offhand remark, Turner! He moved into the living room and busied himself with setting up the laptop on the coffee table. After clearing a space on the tabletop, Scott plugged the power lead into the closest outlet and then into the back of the computer, leaving it to charge. He gazed around him and took a moment to really look at the décor for the first time. The fireplace wall was painted in a deep burgundy, creating a warm atmosphere as soon as you walked in. The plush carpeting was the same color as the focal wall, and it was inlaid into a six-inch strip of polished oak flooring all the way around the room. The three remaining walls were painted a neutral cream and the huge bay window was hung with wooden slatted blinds. The sumptuous house was nothing like his humble one-bedroom home, lovingly restored by him on his free weekends.
Picking up his cell, Scott sank down onto one of the three cream sofas that provided the seating in the living room. Pressing speed dial for Gracie, he waited for her to pick up. "Hey," he said, two rings later, toeing off his sneakers and resting his socked feet on the coffee table.
"Scott!" she said, her musical lilt trilling down the line. "We were beginning to think the two of you were already at one of those 'gatherings'."
"Very funny," Scott retorted, glancing up at the ceiling when he heard a crash from upstairs. "Unpacking takes time you know, and we've had some of the neighbors nosing around already. Although I'm sure they'd call it being neighborly."