His Convenient Husband

by J. L. Langley

  Jae had a moment’s regret that he hadn’t taken Kelly straight home to his apartment.

  “Wow,” Kelly breathed.

  “Yeah.” Jae began down a path rich with mounds of blooming pink azaleas and sprays of ornamental grasses, dotted by bonsai trees. They walked slowly, savoring the scents of late summer flowers and soil and water, which fell in sheets from a waterfall and collected in placid pools.

  “Oh, good, good place.” Kelly seemed to examine each and every plant and rock eagerly as he passed the large chunks of rosy-colored stone imported from Japan. Beds of sand had been meticulously combed into swirls and patterns, like south sea island tattoos, evocative representations of the ocean. “You could hardly believe anything like this existed if you were simply down on the street looking up.”

  “I come here when I need to think.” Jae didn’t mention that he’d come here once or twice to think about Windows, and how to draw out the writer and expose what he’d thought was the woman who’d mishandled his sacred text.

  “It’s wonderful.” Kelly let him lead the way. “I like to garden. At home, I have a kind of gazebo in the middle of mine, where I like to sit. I’ve found over the years that it’s important to me.”

  “You garden?” Jae couldn’t equate the act of gardening with the seeming grab bag of phobias that manifested themselves in Kelly. “Isn’t that kind of…”

  “Dirty? Messy?” Kelly laughed. “I had a friend growing up whose mother had a crippling case of OCD. She had to bleach anything, and I mean even my friend, before she could touch it. It was actually kind of sad. But for some inexplicable reason she used to eat at fast food restaurants whenever I went to visit.” Kelly shook his head. “It was as if whatever made her phobic about germs hadn’t quite presented itself logically and said, here, germs are everywhere. She would go for miles to avoid touching a child’s toy, but drove through a chain restaurant for lunch without giving it a second thought.”

  “So what you’re saying is it makes no sense?”

  “Yup.”

  “How do you stand it?”

  “The very fact that it makes no sense is how I stand it,” Kelly explained. “It’s like…being allergic to something, only you don’t know what it is…or maybe it changes every day. You go through all the motions, and you think, well, crap. Here we go again.”

  “You’re very well adjusted for—”

  Kelly barked a laugh. “For someone who is so obviously not.”

  “I didn’t mean it like that,” Jae said, taking Kelly’s hand and leading him along the path beside the sand ocean.

  “It’s all right. Sometimes I feel so old. I didn’t always have this, but it didn’t happen overnight. The panic attacks came on gradually, and at first…well. I don’t want to talk about that. I just got some help dealing with the physical manifestations and worked on trying not to avoid or anticipate the events.”

  “That’s almost…heroic.” Jae stopped him. “I doubt if I could be that sanguine about it.”

  Pain flickered briefly in Kelly’s eyes and Jae wondered if he’d accidentally said something wrong. It was there and gone so quickly he might have believed he’d imagined it if Kelly hadn’t tightened his grip on Jae’s hand.

  “That’s the joke. Everything extraordinary that I’ve ever done has occurred entirely in my head.”

  Jae touched the back of one of his fingers to Kelly’s cheek. “Surely not everything.”

  “Well—” A loud cough from someone on the path nearby caused Kelly to begin moving again, and Jae was sorry Kelly never finished his thought. They spent the rest of the early afternoon sitting in the rooftop garden, and then they wandered over to the section of Little Tokyo where they explored the shops and found another Japanese garden next to a community center. They walked around that for a while. Kelly sat on a stone bench near a lotus pool. Jae joined him there, enjoying a lengthy companionable silence.

  Eventually Jae’s stomach rumbled loudly and they both laughed.

  “Hungry?” Kelly watched schools of tiny fish darting back and forth in the water.

  “I am.” Jae sighed, getting up.

  “What a spectacular place to spend time, thank you so very much.”

  “It wasn’t the most exciting afternoon.” Jae took his hand again and began to lead him back the way they’d come. “I’ve been known to show a date a better time.”

  “Different,” said Kelly. “But I doubt better.”

  “Thank you.”

  Kelly turned to him, looking up. He had to shade his eyes as the afternoon sun slanted over them. “Well. Not if you didn’t think so. It might have been less than exciting for you. I’ve been known to bore more outgoing people to death.”

  “I don’t ever think I could find you boring. You take such interest in things. It’s fun to watch.”

  Kelly smiled as Jae led him back to the car. In the dark and isolated cool of the parking garage, Jae pulled Kelly in and kissed him, smoothing down the crisp white fabric covering the smaller man’s torso. He didn’t stop until his hands cupped each of Kelly’s tight ass cheeks. He lifted Kelly up to his toes in an incendiary embrace, from which they eventually broke apart, dazed and panting.

  “It’s official, I will never find you boring,” Jae stated shakily, taking Kelly’s hand. To his surprise, he felt a sharp tug of resistance. He turned. “What?”

  “I don’t know.” Kelly glanced back the way they came.

  “Problem?”

  “Kind of.”

  “Can you tell me?” Jae put his hand on Kelly’s shoulder, experiencing a protective surge somewhere in his chest, which felt tight and expansive all at once.

  “I just…” Kelly’s eyes rose to meet his. “I wanted to freeze that. Get it right here.” He fisted the front of his shirt. “So I would never lose it.”

  “Kelly…”

  Kelly began moving toward the car again, catching Jae’s hand as he went. He shot Jae a smile over his shoulder that was at once sweet and sheepish. “I wanted to hang on to that a little longer, is all.”

  I thought I knew what love was…

  Boys of Summer

  © 2009 Cooper Davis

  My name is Hunter Willis and I’ve found love. The problem? I’m not sure I’m ready for the rest of the world to know I’ve fallen for my best friend. Everyone knows Max is gay. Me? They think I’m straight as an arrow. So did I, until Max and I shared a kiss that blew that theory right out of the water.

  Now, by the ocean in Florida, thousands of miles away from prying eyes, I’m finally ready to admit to myself that Max and I have something special. Max has been ready for a long time—and he’s been waiting for me. Really waiting. As in…he’s still a virgin.

  There’s nothing I want more than to be Max’s first lover. But I know when Max gives away that part of himself, it won’t be just a summer fling. It’ll be for keeps. Max deserves the best. I’m just not sure, when it comes right down to it, that I won’t break his heart.

  Did I mention I’m scared as hell?

  Enjoy the following excerpt for Boys of Summer:

  The sun dips low into the ocean, and I wonder how much longer I can possibly wait. Especially as I watch Max’s crisp T-shirt catch in the wind, rippling up over his back.

  I steal furtive glances at his torso, at the cordons of muscle that wind across his abdomen and sides.

  He’s beautiful, and I’ll be damned if I can lie about that.

  We’re on the beach, and he’s fired up the grill, probably about an hour ago. He’s been cooking burgers ever since, the kind I most love, the ones with pickle relish and melted pimento cheese.

  The burgers started out as a Louisa thing, but now they’re a “me” thing, and Max makes them whenever he wants to dote on me.

  Like tonight, when so much hovers in the balance between the two of us.

  He knows how I love them and, as he flips the patties on the grill, I feel a little bit courted. But unfortunately our neighbors have wandered over
from the house next door, and Max gets all chatty with them while he cooks.

  I’m selfish, because I wonder why they won’t simply go away. Worse still, I worry that he’s encouraging the husband to stick around, making conversation with him. Like he is. The man straddles the bench of the picnic table, opening a beer, and next thing I know, he and Max are talking shop about stocks.

  Max is one hell of a trader, and he earns a pile of money—it’s how we’ve managed to rent this million-dollar beach house for the week.

  But I’m beginning to feel the neighbors’ unasked questions burning between us like unsure currency. You know, two guys vacationing alone, one of them so damned sexy that every head on the beach jerks in his direction. I know what the neighbors are thinking. A guy like that can’t possibly be straight, not with every girl on the beach watching him every day. Not with how he spends so much time with me.

  Yeah, sure, we’re here for the girls all right, I think, as the wind kicks up, and the T-shirt clings to Max’s sinewy body. Breathtaking. Gorgeous.

  He’s mine already, and I wish I had the nerve to announce it to these strangers.

  Max stands before the grill, clueless about their curious glances, and chats happily along.

  I struggle to be calm, feet squared in the sand, unable to believe how easy he is about everything. Then he makes his move, pushing past me. He runs his hand down my arm, and I can’t help but blush. Hell, my face is fevered by his subtle touch.

  The neighbor husband catches my darting glance, and smiles nervously.

  That’s when I get it.

  Max is coming out to these people, and he intends to drag me out of the closet right along with him.

  He’s seeing how I’ll handle this back in L.A.

  “Hungry?” he pipes, dropping a plateful of cheeseburgers on the table right in front of me. He presses a loving hand into the small of my back, as he leans past me for the ketchup.

  But I focus on the wife, as she walks up to the table. “Yeah, sure.” I nod vaguely. I’m somewhere else.

  I stand awkwardly as Max makes me a plate, pampering me like I’m his boyfriend.

  I am his boyfriend, I think with no small amount of panic, as he passes the plate into my hand.

  “Thanks,” I mumble, feeling sullen and angry. I wander away from the group, and drop heavily into the sand. The ocean rolls in front of me, and I realize that I’m shaking almost as forcefully.

  But Max has followed me. “What’s wrong?” he asks, settling beside me.

  I don’t answer; fight the urge to grumble about the way he’s set me up with these people.

  He smiles shyly at me. “You’re just scared, Hunter.” My heart lurches because he understands me so damn well. “Don’t be.”

  He’s right. I should be myself, and tonight, myself is that I want to make love to him. Easy, effortless…I wish it were truly that way, as I stare into his lovely eyes.

  Our moment is ruptured when the neighbors’ daughter trots into our view, giggling and innocent.

  “Hey!” she shouts, presenting herself to Max. She stands tall like a soldier reporting for inspection. They’ve become fast friends this week.

  Max grins, giving the hem of her dress a gentle tug as he asks, “A Lily?”

  I have no clue what he’s even talking about, and apparently it’s some secret language, because she becomes bashful, as she looks down at her bright dress and whispers, “My mommy found it for me.” She points at a large appliqué on the front and explains, “It has a palm tree.”

  “Well your mommy has great taste,” Max agrees, and I wonder what it is I’m not privy to.

  His compliment sends her darting away, back toward the picnic table, where her parents sit, hovering over the delicious burgers.

  So Max and I are alone again, and there’s only the rush of wind between us.

  He lifts his baseball cap, giving his hair a little toss as he squints into the setting sun.

  “Don’t be scared,” he says, then hesitates a moment. “You know…about later.” His jaw tightens as he stares at the waves and he slips a palm onto my thigh for everyone to see.

  I stiffen, and want to shove him away.

  But I don’t. I stare at his golden hand like an invader, and think of how it rubs and loves and caresses me. That hand has stroked me into oblivion dozens of times.

  I love this hand same as I love him; so I don’t push it away.

  The wife wanders toward us, dropping onto the hard, wet sand. We form a little triangle, as she tucks her feet beneath her.

  “You have a real way with kids,” she laughs with Max. “She’s so proud of that dress.”

  I have to suppress a wild snort of laughter behind my hand, as his thigh falls against mine. Max would make the ideal wife, I think with a sly grin. He cooks like a mojo. He’s great with kids. And I know he’s going to be killer in bed.

  Too bad he’s the wrong gender.

  But I’ve realized this summer that love simply doesn’t bother with those kinds of distinctions. It falls over you like a mystery, and once it does, you’re gone for life. I’m with Max because I can’t be anywhere else. I was lost to him months ago, and we’ve been dancing this strange, uncomfortable dance ever since. Finding our rhythm in secret.

  Our neighbor beams about her daughter’s dress—amazed that he knew it was a Lily Pulitzer, and as he credits Louisa for his fashion sense, I still wonder what the hell they’re even talking about. Next thing I know, they’re chattering away about vintage clothes shops in West Hollywood, and I’m only aware of Max’s palm resting on my thigh.

  Isn’t she? I think, shifting a bit. But they keep talking until finally I relax. As easy as that.

  His palm no longer scalds my thigh, and I no longer worry what these strangers think.

  He’s mine and I’m damn proud of it. I even scoot a little closer, wondering if he notices.

  I wonder until he strokes my leg with deliberate slowness, a lovers’ gesture, and tosses me a flirty grin as he does it.

  Our neighbor doesn’t even blink. I’m getting a hard-on because of his little streak of exhibitionism, and she couldn’t care less.

  Why didn’t I figure this out months ago?

  In hiding who he was, Payton found himself…and the man he would grow to love.

  The Englor Affair

  © 2008 J.L. Langley

  After his brother is kidnapped, Prince Payton Townsend masquerades as an Admiral’s assistant in order to track the culprits through the tangled mysteries of the planet Englor. He finds way more than he bargained for in the form of Marine Colonel Simon Hollister.

  Simon is no ordinary soldier. He’s heir to Englor and his life is mapped out for him: throne, bride, and eventually an heir. He never expected a dalliance with Payton to blossom into love, or that the organization that taught him to lead would threaten that love—and their lives.

  Danger and intrigue abound as they learn more about their shared enemy, and about each other. What they learn could help them rise above to an enduring love—or pull them apart.

  Warning: Hot sweaty manlove of the interplanetary kind.

  Enjoy the following excerpt for The Englor Affair:

  Six. Payton grunted and hefted the bar up again. He hadn’t worked out his upper body yesterday and now he knew why. Seven. His upper body strength was next to none. After hoisting the bar back onto the stand, he left his hands on it. “Eight.” At least no one was here to witness him struggling with such miniscule weight. Pulling his feet up onto the bench, he lay there staring at the staggered white tile and fluorescent light ceiling. It was ugly. The gym looked like a gym, not the pristine workout room at home.

  Good grief, he was becoming a whiner. He huffed out a breath, making the hair on his forehead flutter, and closed his eyes. First, he was melancholy over not having a consort. Which was stupid, he didn’t want a consort. It was just from watching Nate talk to Aiden, and witnessing how happy they both were. Second, he didn’t want to wor
k, which he really needed to do. The guilt was gnawing at him. That was also stupid because as soon as he figured out why Benson was on Regelence, he was going to go home and back to being under constant surveillance. He actually had a bit of freedom here…and he was using it to lift weights. Yeah, he was whining, most unbecoming, but he couldn’t seem to help it.

  “Lifting free weights by yourself is a very bad idea.”

  Payton sucked in a breath, dropped his feet back to the floor and opened his eyes.

  Si stood at the end of the bench, his hands on the bar. How had Payton not heard him come in? He loomed over Payton with his brow furrowed over crystal blue eyes. “No more lifting weights on your own. It’s dangerous.” A couple strands of auburn hair fell onto his forehead.

  Payton let go of the bar and suppressed a shiver. His mood was suddenly looking up. This was the reason he’d come here in the first place. To hear that voice again and see if the man was as handsome as he remembered. Last night, he’d dreamed of that smooth sexy voice whispering unspeakable things in his ear while they did unspeakable things to each other. Good grief, he was getting aroused. He was obsessed. How pathetic. All it took was a perfect body, a handsome face and someone to be nice to him for no particular reason.

  Si crossed his arms on the bar, leaned over toward Payton and grinned. “How many are you doing?”

  Galaxy, the man was every bit as gorgeous as Payton remembered. The clothes emphasized his masculinity. Red hair peeked out from under his arms, not concealed at all by the white sleeveless shirt he wore. His gray shorts were practically threadbare and very short, the hair on his legs visible right up to his upper thighs. There was almost nothing covering him. Unlike Payton, Si didn’t seem the least bit embarrassed by wearing so little. He seemed quite secure and sure of himself.