by Tara Lain
Beach Balls
By Tara Lain
A Balls to the Wall Romance
Adam James is so far in the closet he could find Narnia. As an attorney for the homophobic WMA Development, he can’t come out without risking the million-dollar paycheck waiting for him once they push their big land development deal through the city council—money that will finally allow Adam to live according to his own terms. Then, on an early morning scuba dive, Adam meets a tall, lean rebreather diver named Sky who makes him want to hug a tree.
Sky Sea Mickeljohn stands for the environment, world peace, and being openly gay. He won’t compromise his principles for anyone—even the damned lying developer lawyer he can’t help lusting after. True, the WMA land development deal could put thousands of people at risk, but Sky still wants to risk his heart. In the fight between freedom and integrity, is there a place for love?
Table of Contents
Blurb
Dedication
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Exclusive Excerpt
More from Tara Lain
About the Author
By Tara Lain
Visit Dreamspinner Press
Copyright
To Suzanne, who inspired me to write romance and write a story about a clash between a developer and an environmentalist.
Chapter One
“WOULD YOU like anything else, Mr. James?”
Adam looked up at two big blue eyes and two good-sized boobs. He’d like sex, scotch, sunshine, and the hell out of this meeting, but he’d keep that to himself. “No thanks, Tiffany. I’m good.”
“You sure I can’t get you anything?” She leaned over, presenting the cleavage carefully arranged in a low-cut peasant blouse, for his appreciation. This girl didn’t know her customer. Of course in his case, no one else knew him either. “I’m sure, thanks.”
She smiled at the three other men at the table without quite the same level of gushing enthusiasm. “Can I get you anything?”
Bill Woolsey gave her a huge, slightly bleary smile. “Sure, sweetie, I’ll take another scotch and water. Light on the water.”
Ed Arturo looked up from his omnipresent smartphone. “Yeah, one more.”
Keith Milton shook his head.
The waitress blasted Adam with another smile and then scooted between the crowded cocktail tables toward the big center bar.
Bill burst out laughing. “It sure pays to be young and beautiful, Adam. I thought she was going to stretch out on the table and give you a piece.”
Adam smiled. “Really? I didn’t notice. I guess I’m distracted. Damn city council meeting, taking my mind off the important things in life.” He grinned and the guys laughed. Yeah, he might be distracted, but not by business. The council meeting might mean a million bucks to him, but right now he just wanted to get settled in at his buddy Carly’s place by the sea and let his cock do the working for a change. He’d had it with these guys, his business, and life in general.
Keith leaned forward. “Y-you still d-d-ating Miss N-November?” His stammer got worse when he drank.
Adam sighed. He hated to flat-out lie. “You know it’s hard to sustain relationships on our schedules.” Keith always asked about the gorgeous woman Adam had brought to a WMA Development retreat last year. Adam neglected to say he’d paid her to come.
Bill nudged him. “Hell, Adam, I keep telling you. Get married. Then you can have pussy at home waiting for you when you need it.”
“Not sure it’s worth the price.”
Bill barked out a laugh. “You got that right.” Bill was forking over big bucks to two previous Mrs. Woolseys. Mrs. Woolsey the third had a huge shoe habit.
Adam looked down at his tablet on the table. “Okay, have you got questions about any of the city council members? We know we have one sure vote.”
Bill nodded. “Good old Earl. Never can resist the wining and dining.”
Ed grinned. “Or the bribing.”
Adam pushed on. “Lilly March is the biggest worry. She’s a tree hugger and could prick the consciences of some of the others. The council has to believe we have the skill and money to handle the toxic cleanup, or we’re toast. We have to score points before the Newport Nature Preserve gets organized. They might command a lot of opposition, and the council could cave in.”
Ed shook his head. “Those pussies.”
Adam nodded and scooted his chair in as an older man from the next table pushed through. “Yeah. Well, let’s not get overconfident. You know how much money this represents.” He put the tablet in his briefcase beside his chair.
Someone next to him moved, and he found himself eye to eye with a smiling twink at the next table. Small, with longish brown hair and big eyes, the kid couldn’t be much more than twenty-one. Pretty in a flamboyant sort of way. The guy who left must have been his sugar daddy. The kid smiled and fluttered his lashes. Adam’s cock fluttered back.
Shit. That just showed how damned desperate he was. He straightened.
Keith had leaned in toward Bill, all hush-hush. “H-how did that w-work on the land go?”
Bill glanced at Adam and shook his head. “Oh, fine. No problems.”
Adam frowned. “What?”
“Nothing, buddy. Can’t compromise your legal ethics now, can we?”
The pretty Tiffany delivered the drinks, and Bill took a big slug as soon as the glass hit the table. The waitress flashed another smile at Adam and left.
Adam touched Bill’s arm. “Come on, Bill. You shouldn’t be doing anything that will put us in a difficult position legally. They have to check the parcel for environmentally sensitive habitat. It can’t look like we’re trying to hide anything.”
Bill waved a hand at him. “No worries.”
These guys loved to skirt the rules. Adam was no Boy Scout, but sometimes the WMA partners made him cringe. Fucking with the land before the city council ruled could bring down a flood of hot water.
Ed raised his lip. “Do you see that fag at the next table? He came in with some old dude. Man, that turns my stomach. I’m gonna see that picture all night in my nightmares.”
Adam held his breath. These guys hated anything gay. They just didn’t know who that included.
Keith grinned. “S-speaking of gay, did you hear about the two g-gay judges?”
Ed shook his head. “No. Tell me.”
“They t-tried each other.”
Ed split a gut. “What do you call fifty lesbians and fifty government employees in one room?”
Adam’s hands clenched. Shit, he’d heard this joke so many times. Today he wasn’t in the mood.
“A h-hundred people that d-don’t do d-dick. You told me before.”
Ed shrugged. “Still true.” He went back to his cell phone.
Bill nudged Adam. The guy had a shit-eating grin. “Know why so many gay guys have mustaches?”
Adam did not want to hear it. He shook his head.
“To hide the stretch marks.”
Ed and Keith laughed. Adam showed some teeth, but his face hurt doing it. “You’re funny, Woolsey.”
The guy was on a roll. “Yeah, and it’s a good thing they won’t find any fairy shrimp on our property. Get it?”
Enough. Adam pushed the chair back. “Excuse me, gotta go to the head.”
He walked down the hall and into the large men’s bathroom. Some days the huge paycheck wasn’t worth it. He took a deep breath and blew it out. Most days it was. This project was the one. His piece of the action would set him free, but he couldn’t blow it just because he was horny. So horny he could fuck a duck if it had good tail feathers.
>
He went to a urinal, reached in his fly, and hauled it out. God, just holding the thing made him want to shove it in a hole. The door to the bathroom opened. He glanced up in the mirror. The twink from the table came in.
Crap.
The guy affected a graceful sway as he sauntered to a urinal and unzipped. Adam stared at himself in the mirror. This was the wrong time for a bashful bladder. He breathed out and finally got a good stream going.
The kid glanced at him and smiled.
He smiled back.
That produced a bigger smile from the twink. “You waiting for someone?”
“No, just peeing.”
The kid pushed out his lower lip. “Oh, I thought you might be waiting for someone.”
Adam didn’t answer.
The kid produced a small stream and then jiggled his cock mightily. Adam tried not to check it out, but… damn. The boy had a nice penis, although Adam didn’t want to show appreciation. He squeezed out the last few drops.
The kid smiled real big. “You sure you wouldn’t want to be waiting for someone?”
Exactly what the hell did the twink plan to do with his sugar daddy? Ask Adam to fight for him? Nevertheless, his cock stiffened. “Sorry, kid, I think you got the wrong impression.”
The lip again. “Oh, did I?” He sneaked a peek at Mr. Half Mast. Then he smiled. A world of hard-won wisdom shone from those pearly whites. “Really sorry, handsome.”
Yeah, so am I.
Adam tucked, zipped, washed in record time, and pushed open the bathroom door into the growing crush of Friday-night happy hour. Shit, he was hard as stone. He had to get out of this fucking meeting and get to Carly’s.
Deep breathing the whole way, he walked slowly back to the table until his erection finally gave up. The guys had switched from gay jokes to a discussion of the various waitresses. Just great.
He pulled out his chair.
Ed pointed. “Hey, Adam, whaddaya think of the redhead with the gazongas? She’s new, isn’t she?” This was Bill and Ed’s favorite restaurant and bar, where they catalogued everything female.
Adam laughed. “Only the gazongas are new. I think she just bought them. I seem to remember seeing her before with a much less impressive rack.”
Ed fell back against his chair, clutching his chest. “Nooo. I want to believe they’re one hundred percent gen-u-ine. Don’t burst my bubble.”
Keith glanced up from the phone. “M-make sure you don’t b-burst hers.”
They should all go home to their wives. “Okay, gentlemen… and I use the term loosely.” He grinned. “We meet with the architect again on Monday to run through the presentation.”
Bill nodded. He had a lot of extracurricular activities, but underneath he was all business. “Yeah. I’m playing golf with Earl Hamston on Sunday. Want to come?”
Hell no. “Sorry. Have some family duties this weekend. Call me if you need me and leave a message. I’ll be checking in.”
Bill cocked his head. “Thought your family was back East somewhere.”
“Yeah, uh, extended family.”
Ed laughed. “A weekend with family. Thrill a minute.”
If they only knew. It wasn’t their fault he was so deep in the closet he could find fucking Narnia.
ADAM RANG the buzzer on the gate in front of Carl “Carly” Cameron’s. He could see through the iron slats that a couple of cars were already parked in the circular driveway. Good. The gang was all there. God, he was so tired.
The speaker clicked on. “Yes, sir.”
He smiled. Waldo was safe saying “sir” to anyone coming to this house. Few ma’ams were allowed. “Hi, Waldo, it’s James Adamson.” He breathed in deeply. He loved being somebody else. There were days when Adam James’s life was shit, and this was one of them. Being James Adamson now and then kept him sane.
The iron gates opened. He drove the Mercedes in and parked on the far side of the fountain next to Ian’s Maserati and an unfamiliar red Ferrari. Wonder if Ian still had that adorable Latino boyfriend? No matter if he was alone, though. Ian didn’t turn Adam on. Too hairy. Adam glanced at the Ferrari, gleaming under a new coat of wax. New blood. Promising.
He’d kill for the balls to just come out and drive a “gay” car. He looked in the rearview mirror and ran a hand through his hair. It was too long, but he kind of liked it that way. Actually, he wished he had the balls to just come out, but way too tough on the income. He flipped up the mirror. WMA wasn’t his only client, but they were the biggest. His assistant, Cat, kept telling him he needed to change that. One of these days. Meanwhile, the Rendall Ranch project was more than a paycheck. Adam was in line for a percentage. A big one.
He popped the trunk, climbed out of the Mercedes, and grabbed his weekender. Mostly swim trunks and a lot of sunglasses, but Carly might throw a party requiring clothes. Of course, the dress code would be California casual, but these guys did fashion. He’d had to go to the back of the closet where he kept the Versace for something flashy enough for Carly’s crowd. He couldn’t wait.
Waldo held the door open with a big smile of welcome. “Mr. Adamson. Good to see you.” Waldo was only about five foot five and likely in his forties, but Adam had the feeling Waldo could handle himself in a fight. The term “fireplug” came to mind. Always the essence of polite and respectful, he was a great cook and probably a great bodyguard too.
“Nice to be here.”
“You’re in the usual suite.”
Behind him, the gate opened and Bruce Landon drove in. Adam waved, then turned back to Waldo. “It’s okay, I can find my way. You help Bruce. He always brings way too much stuff.”
“Are you sure, sir? Thank you. There are fresh towels and the shampoo you like in your suite.”
Adam grabbed his bag and walked into the house. The slate entry gave way to a huge living room that faced the pool and beyond it, the ocean. Carly’s voice floated in from the patio. If Adam stopped to say hi, he’d never get settled.
Some gorgeous portraits of nude men decorated the hall on the way to his suite. Adam recognized the brushwork. They were probably by Roman, a great painter whom Adam loved. He couldn’t have art like this in his own house, though. People might get the right idea. He grinned and followed the oriental runner to the door at the end of the hall.
His favorite suite. The sun shone through the tall windows, throwing streaks of light across the polished wood floors. His shoes sank into the large plush rugs sparked with bold graphic patterns. French doors opened out to a garden next to the pool deck. This room had it all—privacy and access.
He threw his bag on the king-size bed. It looked good. He could almost sleep for the whole weekend. He shook his head. Hell no. Sleep he could get at home—sex was tough to come by. The houses were close together in Newport Beach, and his neighbors knew his business. The occasional “watching football with a buddy” might work, but cars around overnight?
Wonder what the pickings will be like this weekend. Carly certainly would have invited someone Adam James, aka James Adamson, would like. Carly took his hosting and matchmaking duties seriously. Of course, the matches only lasted a couple of days.
Adam unzipped the bag, pulled out clothes on hangers, and carried them to the closet. The last time he’d been here a couple of months ago had been fun. He’d met that businessman from someplace in the Midwest. The guy had definitely been Adam’s type. Clean-cut and well-built, but not too hairy. And he liked to switch. Yeah, they’d fucked on the beach and in the car one night when they’d ventured out for some Mexican food. The man had an exhibitionist streak Adam hadn’t loved, but he’d still had fun. Mr. Midwest had said his name was Harry or Barry or something, but nobody really went by their own names at these parties or talked about themselves much. Everybody was here for the same thing—great, anonymous sex in a safe, upscale environment. Maybe Harry or Barry had come this time too.
Adam arranged his clothes in the drawers and toiletries in the bathroom. After he stashed his bag,
he changed into shorts, a hand-painted T-shirt, and flip-flops.
He got halfway to the door when his cell rang. He glanced at the screen. Mom. Awkward.
He clicked the phone on. “Hi, Mom.”
“Hi, Adam. How are you, darling?” Bright and chirpy as usual.
“I’m good. In the middle of a big development deal.”
“Wonderful. I’m so proud of you.”
“Thanks, Mom. How’s the weather been?”
“Hot and humid as usual. Summer in Philadelphia. Your father and I are thinking of a trip to the Poconos.”
“Great idea. I’m sure that will be fun.”
Slight pause. “Is there any possibility you’d like to come with us?”
“Sorry, Mom. This case is huge, and I’m at the center of it. We’ve still got to work out the traffic planning and the environmental reports. We’ll be at it for months. You guys go and have a good time.”
Another pause. “So, you’re doing… well?”
“Yeah. I’m great. Just great.”
He thought he heard her sigh. “Well, all right then. It’s good to hear your voice. Take care, darling.”
“Bye, Mom.” He clicked off and stared at the phone. How would she have reacted if he’d said no, he wasn’t doing well? No, he wasn’t great. No, he could use more love in his life. No, he would like it if she knew something about him. He sighed. The chances of him saying those things to her were zip. They’d freaked when he came out of the closet and seemed perfectly happy when he’d shot back in. Now everyone was polite. He had a world full of polite.
He needed some impolite sex. Rowdy, rude, down-and-dirty sex. He shoved his sunglasses on against the last of the summer rays and headed out to the pool. The voices were louder than when he’d come in. More guys must be here. Good. He could start looking. He stepped onto the deck.
Carly waved. “Hey, James. Great to see you, buddy.” He was a fairly average guy. About five foot nine with brown hair and nice gray eyes. But what he lacked in physical beauty, he made up for in style and color. He wore yellow shorts and a brilliant print shirt that probably cost more than some people’s rent payments. After hugging Carly, Adam surveyed the three men in the group. Ian Brolly, Bruce Landon, and a guy Adam had never met. The Ferrari driver, no doubt.