A Rumored Affair

by Lyn, Viki

  Graham Winter was a coward. Chris loathed successful gay men who didn’t have the balls to be themselves in public, wasting their opportunities to make a difference in the LGBTQ community.

  Chris’s head snapped toward the door when Graham Winter strode in, the screen door slamming behind him. Fucking Jesus! Good-looking was not enough of an adjective to describe the man. The chiseled jawline and intense green eyes made his mouth dry.

  Not a hair out of place, an expensive-looking watch on his right wrist… The man’s image screamed rich, arrogant SOB. And his smell, wow, Chris inhaled in the rich fragrance of very expensive cologne.

  Compared to this immaculately dressed man, he felt like one of the homeless who hitchhiked along the coast highway. Nervously, he slipped on his worn sandals hidden under the desk. When he brushed back his hair, his fingernail caught in one of his curls, and he winced. Grim amusement glittered in the man’s eyes.

  Why did those judgmental eyes have to be such an awesome green? This man would eat Chris alive if he weren’t careful. Chris shoved his hands in his lap to keep from picking at his scars. Leaning back into his chair, he turned his full attention on Graham and attempted a smile. Josh had taught him a few tricks in dealing with irritable guests, but he never mastered the fake grin.

  Winter took in the room in one glance. When he focused on Chris’s scarred face his expression of indifference remained.

  Give the guy a gold star for not flinching.

  Chris cleared his throat and motioned toward the only chair in his office not covered by files. “Mr. Winter, please have a seat.”

  “You’re the owner?”

  The disbelief in his grave voice made Chris’s hair rise on his nape. So what if he dressed in shorts and a T-shirt and looked younger than his age? His private office was not some corporate boardroom.

  Winter sat in a chair, his back mimicking the straight backrest. “Call me Graham. My father was Mr. Winter. Now, do you have room for me or not?”

  “Unfortunately our system double booked your bungalow. The Coastal Pines can set you up in their penthouse suite. It’s a five-star hotel, and of course, we’ll pay for all the room charges and your meals during your stay.” That should satisfy the asshole.

  Those shapely lips thinned further. “I’m not going to be shuffled back and forth like a piece of luggage. I like it here. If I wanted to spend time in a pretentious hotel, I’d have stayed in New York.” Graham drummed his fingernails on his thigh. He eyed the doorway leading to the hall. “Do you live here alone?”

  Chris’s jaw twitched. “I don’t see how that has any bearing on the situation.”

  “This must have what, three, four bedrooms?”

  “Three, but I—”

  “You married? Boyfriend living with you?”

  Chris clutched the papers on his desk, crumpling the edges. “That’s none of your business.”

  “Just as I thought. You live alone. Then I’ll stay here until a room opens up. A perfect solution.”

  Chris’s mouth opened, but he was too stunned to speak. Already his head buzzed from his rising panic. The last thing he wanted was a stranger staying in his home. He closed his eyes for a moment but when he opened them, unfortunately Graham was still in his office. Time to take control of the situation by being firm. “No resort in Big Sur is stuffy. You’ll be comfortable at Coastal Pines, which is a five-star resort.”

  Graham’s mouth twisted into a calculated smile.

  Chris’s ire rose at the shark-like expression on Graham’s face. Graham reminded him of the boys who used to bully him in school. Taunts of faggot, pretty boy, echoed in his memories. Stiffening his back to buffer against the predator, he repeated, “As I’ve said, we’ll pick up the tab for your stay. It will only be for a few days. We’ll make sure the transition is seamless. You will not be inconvenienced.”

  “I already am.”

  “If you don’t like the arrangements, then I’m sorry, but this is my home. I don’t open it to guests. We’ll arrange for your airfare back home or a hotel if you decide to stay in the area. That’s my final offer.”

  Graham sat forward, his fingers drumming a silent tune on his thigh. “I won’t be inconvenienced if you let me stay here. You know who I am. I’m sure Josh informed you if you haven’t Googled me already. Keep in mind that bad press is not always better than no press.”

  Shit. Just as Chris had predicted, Graham used his power of media over him.

  Chris ran his hand through his hair. He licked his lips, tasting the big NO. If Gossipy! got a hold of this fiasco, they’d have a field day at the expense of Secretus’s reputation, not to mention blowing the anonymity that he coveted. The social-media sharks would pick up the story and twist the facts. Fake news was an accepted form of journalism in this crazy political climate.

  Better to take it on the chin. Pete’s ghostly voice whispered in Chris’s ear making him wince at hearing his dad’s advice so clearly. Even in his death, Pete had to get in the last word.

  “Well, what’s your decision, Mr. Katsaros? Do I stay or go?”

  Chris mulled over the consequences of acquiescing. He could hide out in his office. They wouldn’t have to see much of each other. His most experienced concierge could serve as Graham’s private valet. Henri was one of the more mature staff members and would be able to handle this asshole. Yeah. It’d be cool. He could do this without disturbing his routine.

  Counting under this breath to five, he squashed his pride. “You can stay until a bungalow becomes available.”

  “Okay. That’s fair.”

  “I’ll have your luggage delivered to your room.” Chris stood. “Come with me.”

  Chris ignored Graham’s triumphant smile as he led him down the hallway. As Graham passed, Chris caught a whiff of cologne and he pressed his hand to his chest. He once had a crush on a guy who wore the same brand.

  Avoiding eye contact, Chris continued down the hallway. He’d put Graham in the second bedroom overlooking the ocean. It was next to his room, but the third bedroom at the back of the hall would not be a wise decision. Freshly painted, the room stood empty. Not only that, but it was one of the darkest rooms in the house, positioned on the side of the forest. A sly grin rose as he pictured stuffing Graham into that postage-stamp bedroom and locking him inside. Oh, yeah, that would be sweet justice.

  Chris opened the door to the spare bedroom and stepped inside. The room was furnished with a nightstand and dresser, the king-size bed made up and ready for guests. Not that he’d had many visitors stay overnight. He never brought home a date, preferring a bed where he could leave before morning.

  Graham took in the high ceiling, ran his hand over the curved redwood wall, and then beelined to the glass sliding doors and stepped onto the balcony. He whistled through his teeth while taking in the panoramic ocean view.

  “Now this is a million-dollar view.”

  A sense of pride swelled in Chris followed by the familiar ache of loss. After his dads’ deaths, he had inherited a burned down resort and the means to rebuild. This resort along with his private home were all his, built to his specifications. He couldn’t imagine living anyplace else, and that was why he never moved far from home.

  Graham turned and his genuine smile caused Chris’s heart to beat a tad too fast. Wow. He had no idea that such an arrogant jerk could look so…boyish…even charming. Not sure if he should stay or go, Chris stuttered, “Ah…lunch…”

  “I caught a bite on the road.”

  “Dial star-two for room service if you get hungry. Dinner is served from five thirty to eleven. Do you have a car?”

  “Rented a convertible. Now I can see that was a smart decision.”

  “You can park it at the back of the house. Josh will let you know about our services, and he’ll have your luggage sent to your room.”

  Once back inside, Graham flopped on the bed and bounced a few times. “Ah, great mattress. Wonderful view. This day is looking up.”

  Chri
s momentarily lost his train of thought as he stared at Graham sprawled across the bed. His skin flushed hot as he pictured Graham lying on his back, naked.

  Graham rose up on his elbows, a twinkle in his eyes that had Chris’s stomach fluttering.

  “Can you arrange dinner reservations for seven thirty?”

  Chris opened his mouth to say no when Graham hit him with a plea.

  “Please. I don’t like to dine alone.”

  Graham’s heartfelt please caused an uncomfortable tightness in Chris’s groin. Nah. Don’t go there. Graham Winter is a fucking closet case.

  “Graham.” Chris tried the name out and found it rolled off his tongue with ease, but he wouldn’t think about that. “I don’t fraternize with guests.”

  “There’s always a first time.” Graham’s tone brooked no argument. “Since you’re the only man I know, you’ll do.”

  All of Graham’s cuteness vanished for Chris. “Now look here—”

  “I read in your brochure that each guest has a personal valet to see to their needs.”

  Chris gritted his teeth. “I don’t run an escort service. If you want companionship, you should go back to San Francisco, where there’s plenty of action.”

  “I’m not asking to fuck you. Just dinner.”

  Yet there was definite interest in Graham’s eyes. Chris’s resolve to remain indifferent to this man began to thaw. With a heavy sigh he gave in. “I’ll make the arrangements.”

  “Great. I’m happy you changed your mind.”

  Chris shook his head. This man had the uncanny ability to shift from arrogant asshole to awfully cute in nanoseconds.

  Graham bounced from the bed and strode up to Chris with a cat-like grin; a grin that announced to Chris that Graham had won the battle of wills between them. This should have bothered him but he was still processing the idea that he’d be dining with Graham tonight. When their eyes met the only thing in focus was Graham Winter and those sexy green eyes.

  Graham’s gaze never wavered. “I’ll see you around quarter after seven, then.”

  “Yeah. Sure.” Minutes ticked by, or what seemed like hours as they stood staring at each other. “Ah, I’ll meet you in the living room.” Chris looked away first. “I need to get back to work.” He rushed out the door, hearing Graham call out thanks.

  The guy could say thank you. What a surprise. Bob’s sonorous voice sounded amused. Chris smiled at his other dad’s sarcasm and nodded in agreement. Pete and Bob had been inseparable, two opposites melded into a wonderful combination of humanity and compassion. He missed them terribly, not sure if he’d ever get over their sudden deaths.

  Once inside his office, Chris locked the door and leaned against it, catching his breath. He wiped his sweaty brow noticing his shorts were uncomfortably tight. Graham Winter was arrogant and pushy, but like a chameleon, he also could be boyish and borderline nice.

  Determined not to let Graham distract him any longer, he sat at his desk and pulled up the budget spreadsheet on his computer. He picked at the scars on his hand as he went over the numbers until they blurred on the screen. Disgusted with himself, he clicked off the screen knowing his concentration was shot.

  Chris left a message on Honda’s voice mail, first to tell him about the computer snafu and second to ask him to research Graham Winter. Honda not only was a technical wizard but he had his ear to the gay community and all its scuttlebutt. This skill was why Chris had insisted Honda join the board of the activist organization, Equality Acceptance Now. His friend’s nose for gossip was invaluable to EAN in vetting companies that were against LGBTQ rights.

  The phone jangled, lifting Chris out of his daydreaming. “Hey, Honda, what’s up?”

  “You’ll never guess how I know Graham Winter!”

  A sinking sensation in his gut told him he’d come to regret his decision in allowing Graham into his home.

  4

  Wow. Wow. Wow.

  Graham let out a breath and sank onto the bed, thankful Chris had left the room. The start of a boner tented his pants. Somehow Chris didn’t seem the type to respond well to sudden sexual advances. He appeared too cautious and not at all trustful of others.

  Oh, but what beauty.

  Dark curly hair offset by a smooth olive skin. Those enormous eyes were the sexy color of turquoise and fringed by thick lashes. The mouth… Fuck…those full lips. They’d be able to suck Graham’s cock to its base. The patch of puckered scars on the owner’s face and hands did nothing to distract from that exquisite face. There was a story behind the injuries, and that made him even more curious about Chris.

  Yep. The guy got his attention despite his cliché hippy tie-dyed T-shirt and Birkenstock sandals.

  Graham chewed on his thumbnail as he thought back to their encounter. He’d been harsh, maybe too demanding? The threat to make the screw-up public had been an empty one. He would never purposely ruin someone’s reputation or business because of a computer glitch or simple mistake. But the idle threat had done the job and secured him a room. Sure he felt guilty, and his behavior didn’t go down well with the owner, but he wanted to stay here, not at some boring hotel.

  When he insisted on Chris joining him for dinner, Chris made it very clear he would have preferred getting into a cage with a lion than spending any time with Graham. So why had he coerced Chris into accepting his dinner invitation? Because Chris intrigued him, and it had been too damn long since he’d met someone who caught his interest.

  Being a poster boy for the New York Times society page was bad enough, especially hiding his sexuality behind fake girlfriends during photo ops. Here, without the moniker of Mrs. Abigail Winter’s son or the head czar of Winter Media, he could pursue a man without causing a scandal. This was too delicious of an opportunity to pass up.

  What he felt for Chris Katsaros was a mix of incredible attraction and curiosity. The guy had bright, intelligent eyes, and Graham hadn’t been sure he’d get his way. Not many men stood up to him, his dates kowtowing because of his power and wealth.

  How had someone as young as Chris become the owner of a resort in one of the most coveted places in the world? The way the owner dressed was out of a hippy handbook. Then again, this was Big Sur and home of bohemian literati. Henry Miller had escaped “the air-conditioned nightmare of modern life” by settling here.

  Idle speculation never got Graham anywhere. He had a place to lay his head at night and all was well. Time to explore the grounds and see what Secretus had to offer.

  Refreshed after taking a shower, Graham was ready to start his vacation. The map of the resort showed a private beach, a perfect place to unwind. Once he packed his book and towel into a backpack, he took off. As he hiked down the winding path, he felt his tension melt. Pelicans soared in a V formation as they skimmed the water’s surface, foraging for food. The birds seemed to be having fun, swooping in circles, not a care in the world.

  What freedom! Would he have the balls to ditch everything—the business, his lifestyle—and take off without a destination in mind? The last time he’d had a real vacation had been right before he took over the business, five years ago. Since then he always traveled with an agenda. Work consumed him, but he hadn’t always been that way. In college, he’d had other interests, boyfriends, too, and came close to coming out to his parents.

  If it hadn’t been for his father’s unexpected death, he would have pursued a different path. When his father died, Graham had dressed in a pinstriped suit for the funeral and never took it off. To his surprise, he excelled at rejuvenating a dying family business. His blood and sweat yanked Winter Media from the greedy jaws of the debt collectors. A long battle for sure, but finally he could see the reward, ready to grasp the victory and prove to his family that giving him the reins had been the best choice.

  At the beach entrance, he scanned the area for a place to lay his towel. Blue-striped cabanas shaded guests sunning on lounge chairs. Behind the tiki bar, a bartender poured fruity drinks into iced glasses garnished
with paper umbrellas. Graham gave him a once-over. Another staff cutie. This vacation might prove to be better than he’d ever imagined.

  Graham kicked off his sandals and hopped across the hot sand. Claiming a vacant lounge chair, he settled in with a Bob Peters mystery and bottled water. Every few years he read the mystery series set in ancient Greece, the books recommended by his history professor.

  Instead of opening to the bookmarked page, he listened to the sound of the waves, and enjoyed having no place where he had to be. Too much of his days and evenings were scheduled. Now that he sat without a purpose in mind, thoughts came crowding in, screaming for attention. Thoughts he’d pushed aside for over five years for fear he’d made a big mistake by taking over the company.

  From the corner of his eye, he spotted a guy running along the edge of the tide. Glad to be distracted, he watched with interest the runner’s smooth trot, his feet splashing water with every step. From this distance, he could make out the runner’s lean body and his muscular calves.

  Setting down his book, he intently watched the runner through his sunglasses. As the runner neared, Graham smiled at the windblown curls sticking out of the thick black headband. He sat up straighter as he recognized the tie-dyed T-shirt.

  The runner veered from the shore and crossed the beach, passing the cabanas.

  “Hey, Chris, over here.” Graham waved him over.

  A furtive glance from Chris, and then he slowed as he approached Graham.

  “Hey.” Chris’s gaze darted to the path leading up the cliff.

  “You run every day?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Maybe I’ll join you next time. Since you don’t have a gym on the property.”

  Chris narrowed his eyes and his mouth twisted. “Do you always invite yourself to the party? I like running alone.” Then, still holding on to that twisted smirk, Chris took off.