Love Brokers:

MISTER ROMANCE

L.C. Chase

www.loose-id.com

Love Brokers: Mister Romance
Copyright © November 2012 by L.C. Chase

All rights reserved. This copy is intended for the
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eISBN 9781623001063
Editor: Jana J. Hanson
Cover Artist: Mina Carter

Published in the United States of America
Loose Id LLC
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San Francisco CA 94104-0809
www.loose-id.com

This e-book is a work of fiction. While reference
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existing locations, the names, characters, places
and incidents are either the product of the author’s
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entirely coincidental.

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Dedication

For the real Mr. Matchmaker and Mr.

Romance, thank you for being the beautiful
example of what it means to love another with
your whole heart.

With love and heartfelt gratitude to Taylor

for talking me down off the ledge more than once,
to MC for the title, and to Thorny and Alec for
the invaluable feedback and support.

For all those searching for your one and

only—follow your heart, even if the road is long.

Chapter One

Five years ago

Jacob smiled at the young man sitting across

from him, whose expression was hopeful but
reserved, his shoulders straight back, and body
held tightly in check as if preparing himself for
Jacob to say, Sorry, no match for you. The poor
man obviously had no idea who he was dealing
with. Otherwise he wouldn’t be sitting there
looking like the hammer was about to fall on his
head. Jacob Cruz did not run the average dating
service.

“I have just the man for you, honey,” Jacob

said as he pulled a black leather-bound book from
the top drawer of his desk, then flipped through the
plastic-protected pages. “Don’t you worry about a
thing.”

Mark’s shoulders relaxed ever so slightly. A

small attempt at a smile touched the corners of his

mouth, and a light blush colored his cheeks.
“Sorry, I just haven’t had much luck in the
relationship department. No one seems able to see
me as more than a”—he paused to air-quote
—“great friend.”

“Please.” Jacob waved a dismissive hand. It

was Mark’s quiet vulnerability, coupled with those
big brown eyes and thick dark lashes, that made
him gorgeous. He didn’t need to be a supermodel
to be hot. No one did. “Your man is right here in
this book.”

Jacob kept his client list small and personal

so he could spend time with each and every one
face-to-face. Getting to know them, their
personalities, quirks, likes, and dislikes gave him
a good grasp on not only who they were but what
t h e y needed. Which was, as most refused to
believe, not always what they wanted.

There weren’t 1.2 million single men to surf

through and take their chances on. There weren’t
twenty-nine compatibility questions to answer to
find their one true soul mate. Oh no, things were

done old school at His Perfect Match. All Jacob
used his Web site for was as a yellow pages
advertisement. Even at the ripe old age of eighteen,
Jacob had known the heart was far more accurate
than what any computer-generated algorithm could
produce. Just ask the first couple he’d ever
matched up, who were still together nine years
later.

It was his extra attention to the little details

that could never come through on paper or a series
of questions that made him the best matchmaking
consultant on the West Coast—north and south of
the border—and earned him the title “Mr.
Matchmaker.” He had a 99 percent success rate, a
business in high demand, and nothing but stars on
the horizon, but it was that 1 percent that made him
go the extra mile every time. A wave of guilt
lapped at his conscience when that 1-percent-fail
sneaked to the forefront of his mind. Kevin Hale
was the reason he made sure he always went
above and beyond every single time.

Jacob gave himself a mental shake. Right now

his complete focus needed to be on Mark
Rawlings, the nervous young man currently sitting
across from him, who Jacob was about to
introduce to his soul mate.

Mark had a wicked sense of humor, but he

kept it on a tight leash until he felt comfortable
around people. Crowds were hard for him; his
innate shyness caused him to tangle up words in
the back of his throat like rush-hour gridlock on
Highway 99. But as soon as those barriers were
breached, he was a firecracker. Mark needed
someone who could draw him out and give him the
confidence to let go and truly believe he was more
than friend material.

Jacob’s hand stilled on page twenty-one.

Jeremy Lighten. Yep. Jeremy had a few years and
inches on Mark, was a successful businessman,
confident without being arrogant, compassionate,
decisive, and had a knack for making everyone
around him walk an inch taller. Even Jacob had
felt that when he’d met Jeremy a month prior. He
nodded to himself. Mark and Jeremy would be

perfect. Their names even sounded good together.

Jacob snapped open the binder, pulled the

page out, and slid it across the desk to Mark, who
looked down and quickly back up to meet Jacob’s
gaze with wide eyes. His voice squeaked just a
touch when he asked, “Him?”

Jacob nodded. “Absolutely.”
“But he’s…so…”
“Perfect for you.”
“Out of my league.”
“Mark.” Jacob leaned forward. “Who’s the

professional here? I know my men, and I know
you, and I am so confident you and Jeremy will hit
it off that I’ll be expecting an invitation to your
wedding within the year.”

Mark spluttered. Jacob smiled. The man

really was adorable. Jeremy was going to love
him.

“I’ll arrange for your first date this Saturday.

How’s dinner at the Top of Vancouver sound?”

“I’ve never been there.” Mark lowered his

gaze back to the photo in front of him.

“You aren’t afraid of heights, are you?”
Mark shook his head absently, eyes still fixed

on Jeremy’s photo and basic details.

“Oh my, you’re in for a treat, then.” Jacob let

excitement color his voice. The ToV was a
gorgeous revolving restaurant atop Vancouver’s
Harbour Centre, over five hundred feet high with
spectacular views of the city, the harbor, and the
North Shore mountains, and the perfect atmosphere
for a romantic dinner. “Just don’t get lost if you go
to

the

restroom—remember

to

walk

counterclockwise.”

* * * *

Whistling while he worked, Jacob had just

finished putting away his files after calling Jeremy
and making reservations for Jeremy and Mark’s
first date, when his office door swung open and a
waft of whatever Calvin Klein’s latest pour femme
was preceded a familiar voice.

“Sounds like you’ve made another successful

match, then.” Her voice had that smoky, sultry
quality to it that could send a shiver down any
man’s spine, regardless of orientation.

Jacob got up from his chair and met Violet,

one of his first clients—his first and only straight
client—and his best friend ever since, midway for
a hug and cheek bussing. Finding a man for her had
been a challenge, even though Jacob did have a
few straight male friends. He got gay men, but
straight? They were like another species
altogether. He’d had to call in his sister to help on
that one, and it turned out a friend of a friend had a
cousin who had a friend who was absolutely
perfect for Violet. Adam Walsh was understated,
laid-back, and didn’t ruffle easily, which
complemented Violet’s feisty, outgoing attitude
and gave her a sense of solid ground. She had a
tendency to jump before looking, but Adam always
made sure the safety net was in place when she
did. And they looked fantastic together. Violet was
tall and willowy with long golden hair, and the
darker-haired Adam was the all-American boy
next door.

“So,” Violet started as she took the seat

where Mark had been, then crossed one of those
long legs over the other. “Tell me all about them.”

Jacob smiled. “A beautiful man with a heart

of gold who thinks no one can see him, and a very
astute man who always sees the gems under the
surface. They’re a perfect match.”

“They sound lovely.”
“They are.”
“You’re such a romantic.” She leaned

forward, her dark blue eyes sparkling. Uh-oh.
Jacob knew that look all too well. “Speaking of
romance… You know I have a little of the
matchmaker magic too.”

Jacob raised a skeptical eyebrow. “Because

you made one successful match?”

“Because I don’t make matchmaking my

business, but when I do it, I do it for keeps.” She
nodded once, then sat up straighter and rolled her
shoulders back.

“Okay, I’ll give you that.” Jacob clasped his

hands together and rested them on his desk. “What

are you up to, Mrs. Walsh?”

“Well…” She lowered her gaze and picked at

a piece of invisible lint on her skirt. Without
looking up, she said, “There’s someone I want you
to meet.”

“Okay.” Jacob frowned. “Send him by the

office.”

“Well, he’s not actually a potential client.”

She glanced up, her gaze assessing. Then, having
made whatever decision she’d clearly been
weighing, said with conviction, “I know he’s
perfect for you. He’s your one and only. Your
Adam.”

Jacob chuckled. A little overzealous at times,

but Violet’s heart was always in the right place. “I
appreciate that, honey. I really do, but in case
you’ve forgotten, I’m not on the market. I’m happy
with Christopher.”

“Oh, pish.”
“Come on, Vi. He’s a good man.”
Violet scrunched her nose. From the day

she’d met Christopher, she’d had a hate-on for him

and had made it perfectly clear why. It didn’t
matter to her that he and Christopher had only just
started dating then, weren’t officially exclusive,
but as far as she was concerned, Christopher was
forever branded a player. “Sure he is. For
someone else. He’s not a good man for you, Jake.
You deserve better.”

Jacob sighed, picked up a pen, and started

twirling it through his fingers. How many times did
they need to have this conversation? Sure, maybe
he did deserve better, but he knew Christopher
loved him. Okay, so he had a bit of a roving eye
and a tendency to get overly flirtatious in public,
and his idea of romantic was takeout shared on the
couch over a hockey game on the big screen.
Maybe Christopher wasn’t perfect, but really, who
was? And if that didn’t make Jacob the biggest
hypocrite this side of the Rockies. He couldn’t
very well profess perfect matches when he
couldn’t make his own.

“We’re not going to agree on this, Vi. I know

him better than you. He’s been good to me.”

“But he doesn’t rock your world, and he’s

rude to you in public.”

“Stop. He’s not rude.”
“He ignores you, like he doesn’t want anyone

to know you’re together. Unless you’re getting hit
on.”

Jacob dropped his voice an octave and said

“Violet,” as the warning it was meant to be.

“Okay, fine.” She huffed, but because she’d

never been one to let anything go, quickly added,
“His name is Brant Hudson, and he’ll be at the
Romantic Addiction New Year’s Eve party this
weekend. Just meet him. That’s all I’m saying.”

“No, that’s not all you’re saying. Don’t think

I’m not wise to your evil wimmins ways.”

Violet laughed and tossed her hair over her

shoulder like a seasoned diva. “Shut up.”

“Seriously, hon, things are good with

Christopher. I’m not going to walk out on almost
two years for a pretty face.”

Violet didn’t look convinced, and even Jacob

had to agree the unspoken enough hung heavy in
the air between them.

“There’s a whole lot more to Brant than a

pretty face. You’ll see.”

“Fine.” Jacob sighed. “I’ll meet him. Only

because I know there’s no way you’ll let me get
through the night without it. But I’m telling you
now, nothing will come of it.”

Violet smirked and did a little victory rock in

her chair. “Love you, Jakey.”

Dammit, he was in trouble. “Love you too,

little miss troublemaker.”

Chapter Two

Brant Hudson tried to hide the wince and

sudden impulse to throw up when the woman’s
rum-scented breath washed across his face. The
number one reason he didn’t enjoy these industry-
type parties: people who couldn’t hold their
liquor. He forced a smile and looked around the
room again for a familiar face to save him. Anyone
who made eye contact at this point would do.
Unfortunately anyone within eyeshot was currently
involved in their own conversations. Probably
with sober people who made sense and smelled
nice.

“Ser’sly, I know what ’m talkin’ ’bout,” the

drunk woman continued.

Seriously, I doubt it.
She squinted her eyes and scrunched her

mouth, apparently having forgotten what she knew
all about in midthought. Then her features relaxed
and opened up like she’d seen the Messiah. She

smiled and looked at Brant with unfocused eyes.
“I’d rock yer world.”

Oh boy. She was pretty enough, he supposed.

Surely some men would find her attractive, even
sloppy drunk and hanging on them like a limpet.
But he wasn’t one of them. Never was, never
would be.

Brant made another scan of the crowd and

spotted a vision in gold and silver floating
effortlessly through the crowd toward him. Oh,
thank you, God.

“Excuse me, darling,” Violet Walsh said in

that siren’s voice of hers, then shot a glare so
wicked at the woman it even gave Brant pause.
She wedged herself between Brant and Miss
Limpet, neatly freeing him, and said, “I need to
steal this man for a few minutes. Well, for the
evening actually. Run along now and find yourself
a straight playmate, eh.”

Brant exhaled his relief at the well-timed

escape opportunity, and laughter bubbled up from
his chest. “I love you right now, Violet,” he said as

she tucked her hand over his elbow and steered
him away to safer waters, making leading him look
like he was leading her. The woman had mad
skills.

She smiled up at him with a mischievous grin.

“I know, sweetheart.”

“Now that I’ve made a narrow escape, thanks

to you, what do you plan to do with me?”

“If I had the right equipment, a lot of things.”

The woman damn near growled, and Brant had to
laugh again. “Alas, it is not to be. And of course,
I’m very happily married. So what I plan to do
with you is introduce you to your future husband.”

“Aww, that’s so sweet of you, but you know I

kind of have a boyfriend.”

“Yes, yes, yes.” Violet scowled and then after

an

exaggerated

the-things-I-do-for-you

sigh,

continued, “What is it with the two of you anyway?
I swear… Kind of is not the stuff of true love,
hon.”

“The two of whom? And I know the stuff of

true love, Violet. Hell, I wrote the book on it!”

“Really?” She stopped and looked up at him

with wide, starstruck eyes.

“You don’t fool me with that innocent look

for one second.”

Violet smiled and shook her head. “Well then,

Mr. Know-it-all Romance. What are you doing
with Mr. What’s-his-face Kind-of-boyfriend?”

“You have such a unique way with words.”
“Like I told Jacob. You need to trust your

Auntie Vi.”

“Jacob?”
She slanted a sly smile his way before

slipping her hand out from his elbow and striding
forward to a small group of people conversing
near the bar. There were three men, two of which
had their backs to him, and one woman. Three
strides ahead of him, Violet reached the foursome
and slipped an arm around the waist of one of the
men facing away. While Brant towered over
Violet, despite the four-inch lethal weapons she
wore on her feet, the man she had cozied up to met
her at eye level when he turned his head to greet

her. He smiled and even from the short distance
between them, in profile only, Brant knew the man
had a smile that could stop traffic. Total cliché
yes, but he was Mr. Romance after all, and as far
as he was concerned, completely within his rights
to use all matter of cliché, poetry, and grand
gesture to win a heart.

Brant was the first to admit to being a die-

hard romantic, but he came by it naturally. His
mom and dad had been his prime examples and
unwavering role models on what it meant to love
and cherish another till death do they part. Some of
his fondest memories were of sitting on the couch
in his parents’ rambling ranch house with his mom,
dad, two brothers, and sister, watching movies.
He, his mom, and his sister, Ellie, always cried at
the sad or heartbreaking parts while his brothers
tossed popcorn at them, and his dad covertly
wiped his eyes. Brant grew up surrounded by love,
a love that didn’t even hitch a beat when he came
out to his family at fifteen. No matter how busy his
life became, he made a point of always going home
for Sunday-night dinner and a movie with his folks.

Usually it was just the three of them these days—
his brothers and sister, busy with their own
families, managed to only make one Sunday a
month—and he and his mom still cried while his
dad pretended not to.

Brant wanted to experience that kind of love

and devotion and share it with the world, so after
getting his business degree, he started his own
relationship consulting company, True Romance.
He knew every move in the book to win a heart
and build a lasting relationship, and he did write
the book. True Romance: How to Win a Heart
still sat firmly on the best-seller list three years
after its release. But even knowing what he knew,
watching his clients’ relationships bloom and
grow, his own seemed to miss that magical spark
that set a fire for a lifetime. Ever the hopeful
romantic, he fully believed his prince would come.
He just wished the man had shown up before he’d
turned thirty two years ago.

Violet turned back to Brant and beckoned him

with an outstretched hand. “Brant, I want you to

meet a very dear friend of mine.”

The man turned around to face him fully, and

Brant froze. Brant had come across many an
attractive man over the years. Some he simply
admired for their good looks or their bearing;
some drew his attention long enough to linger in
his memory and maybe visit his dreams.
Occasionally they stirred a wave of lust and desire
so strong he had to go with it to see where it led,
but Lord have mercy , this was the first time he’d
felt the whole trifecta in one blow.

Warm hazel eyes offset by caramel-colored

skin and dark hair that hung in long bangs sent
Brant’s brain skittering, and the incredible smile
that backed them up made it spiral right off the
tracks. His heart pounded hard in his rib cage, and
the ballroom seemed brighter all of a sudden. A
shiver of adrenaline kicked through his veins,
followed by a wave of euphoric dizziness that
threatened to drop him to his knees.

Whoa, so this is what love at first sight feels

like.

Distantly he heard Violet speaking, knew she

was introducing them, but only two words took
root in his endorphin-muddled brain: Jacob Cruz.
The man whose spell Brant had just fallen firmly
under cocked his head slightly to the side, and
Brant damn near whimpered, “I’m yours.”

He had no idea how long he stood there

staring at Jacob, certain his mouth was hanging
open while drool trickled down his chin, before he
realized Jacob had extended his hand in greeting
and was waiting patiently for Brant to accept the
gesture. The world slowed and sound muted as
Brant watched his hand reach for Jacob’s as
though he were viewing through someone else’s
eyes. Their hands met, closed around each other,
and heat spread outward from the point of contact
until Brant felt his chest swell with its sweet
warmth. He marveled at the way his paler skin
perfectly contrasted with Jacob’s, the way their
hands fit together as though they’d been meant to.
As though they were fated.

Brant realized his mouth hadn’t been hanging

open after all when he opened it to speak, but
apparently he’d lost that ability with his brain still
off track. Now he was surely drooling.

Jacob’s smiled widened. “It’s a pleasure to

meet you, Brant.”

Brant restrained a groan—just—at the soft

timbre of Jacob’s voice, and then his mouth
discovered it could operate without consulting his
brain, and he blurted, “I have a boyfriend.”
Immediately heat shot up his neck and spread into
his cheeks. Oh, God, could I be any more of a
moron? Well, at least the runaway mouth would
take attention away from any embarrassing lack of
bodily fluid control.

A very unladylike snicker broke through the

pounding of his heart in his eardrums. Damn, he’d
all but forgotten Violet was there, that anyone other
than he and Jacob were in the large ballroom—
which now seemed louder than it had just a few
minutes earlier—and by the smug look on her face,
she knew it. He let go of Jacob’s hand and took a
step back, fighting the urge to wipe his clammy

palm on his thigh.

Brant closed his eyes and quietly said,

“Please say that wasn’t my outside voice.”

“Sorry.” The tone of Jacob’s voice was

teasing, though Brant could swear he heard a hint
of regret in there too. He opened his eyes, hoping
to see an expression to match what he imagined
he’d heard in Jacob’s voice, but only saw genuine
kindness. “I have a boyfriend too, so we’re even.”

“Oh.” The word was out and delivered with

clear disappointment before he could curb it. If he
could kick himself… What was he thinking? He
and Glen had only been together for a couple of
months, but Brant did genuinely care for Glen.
Even though he’d never felt with Glen, or anyone
for that matter, what he’d just felt with Jacob.

“That

was

your

outside

voice

too,

sweetheart,” Violet teased. She leaned in close
and whispered in his ear, “Breathe, Brant. It’s all
good.” Then she stood back, grabbed both his and
Jacob’s hands in hers, and gave them each a
squeeze before releasing.

She said, “You two stay right here and get

acquainted while Auntie Vi gets you both a drink.”

JACOB WATCHED VIOLET strut away with

an extra kick in her stride, clearly proud of herself,
and shoved his hands into his pockets. His right
hand still tingled where Brant’s long, strong
fingers had wrapped around it and held on like he
didn’t want to let go. Jacob was a bit surprised to
find that he hadn’t wanted to let go either.

He’d noticed Brant earlier, standing across

the ballroom entertaining a small audience. It was
the confidence in how he’d carried himself, the
smooth way he’d moved through the crowd like he
owned the room that had first drawn Jacob’s
attention. But it was the earthy good looks, the kind
smile, and ready laughter that had kept Jacob
watching. That natural ruggedness suited up in an
elegant black silk brocade jacket only amplified
the man’s sex appeal, and he was even more
stunning up close. No wonder Jacob hadn’t been
able to keep his gaze from zeroing in on wherever

Brant was in the crowd all night.

“Oh my God.” Brant’s deep voice brought his

attention back to the man who was just as gorgeous
as Violet had said, not that he’d give her the
satisfaction of admitting it, however. “You’re
Jacob Cruz. The Jacob Cruz. Mr. Matchmaker.”

Jacob smiled, liking the way Brant’s voice

cracked on the last word. “I am. And you’re Brant
Hudson of True Romance, also known as Mr.
Romance.”

Jacob had definitely heard all about Mr.

Romance. He had to know who his competition
was, though Brant’s business and his were more
complementary than competitive. He’d read a few
interviews with Brant in the local gay rag and had
honestly expected someone a little older, a bit
more on the arrogant side. He couldn’t say why he
had that impression, maybe from the confident tone
that came across in the interviews. Confident men
were a turn-on, but only if that confidence came
with a healthy balance of modesty.

Jacob held Brant’s gaze for a long moment,

until a smile teased the edges of Brant’s mouth and
an amused light rose in those rich brown eyes.
They both broke out laughing at the same time.

“No wonder Violet thinks we’d be perfect for

each other,” Jacob said, and at the confused
expression on Brant’s face continued, “Oh dear.
She didn’t tell you what she was up to?”

Brant shook his head. “Have we just been

punked?”

“How long have you known her?”
“Not long. I met her at a florist shop, when

she overheard me telling her husband why the calla
lily is the worst flower to ever give anyone, let
alone his wife.”

Jacob gasped and raised his eyebrows.

“Adam was going to give her the death lily? That
man is damn lucky you were there.”

“Yes, which is how I found myself suddenly

adopted by the Walshes. According to the missus, I
saved their marriage.”

Jacob said, “That’s so Vi.”

“You’ve known her a long time?”
“She may tease about being Auntie Vi, but

she’s more like a sister to me. I’ve known her
since I started His Perfect Match. I introduced her
and Adam.”

Now it was Brant’s turn to raise his

eyebrows in surprise. “I didn’t know you matched
straight couples too?”

“I don’t. Violet is my one and only. She

was…let’s just say persistent. I should have
known I’d never get rid of her.” Jacob smiled,
remembering that first day Violet walked into his
office, plopped herself down in the chair in front
of his desk like they’d been BFFs since
kindergarten, and confidently stated, ‘You’re going
to find my soul mate.’”

Absently Brant said, “Your teeth are so

white.”

Jacob choked on a laugh and started coughing,

only to laugh and choke harder at the look of
horror on Brant’s face.

“Oh shit.” Brant reached out, wrapped one

hand around Jacob’s biceps, and clapped the other
against his back. “Are you okay?”

Jacob nodded and wiped the tears from his

eyes as he got himself under control. “’m good,” he
croaked. Except now that he could breathe
properly again, all his attention centered on his
arm, where Brant’s hand still held on. The grasp—
not too hard, not too soft, but somehow intimate—
sent a tremor of anticipation skittering through his
stomach.

“I’m so sorry,” Brant began. “I swear I

usually have better control of my mouth than this. I
can’t seem to stop making a fool of myself
tonight.”

At the mention of Brant’s mouth, Jacob’s gaze

zeroed in on it. His lips were a healthy shade of
pink; the bottom lip fuller than the top. Brant
parted them slightly, and Jacob suddenly found
himself wondering what they would feel like
against his skin, what they would taste like, how
they would feel wrapped arou—

A bright flash of light went off to his right and

startled him from his wayward thoughts. It was
only when he’d jumped back—acutely aware of
Brant’s hand falling away—that he realized he’d
been leaning in closer to Brant, and if he wasn’t
mistaken, Brant had been leaning in too.

“Dayum.” Jacob jumped again, this time from

the sound of Violet’s voice to his left. “Anyone
have a fire extinguisher handy?”

Jacob cleared his throat and took another step

back, Brant a mirror image as he did the same, as
if the distance would put out the fire igniting
between them. No way would Jacob tell her, but
Violet was right. Brant Hudson was more than a
pretty face—strong jawline, straight nose with a
bit of a lift at the end, eyes the color of rich,
melted chocolate, an infectious smile, and dark
hair stylishly cut for that permanently windblown
look. He was undeniably gorgeous and also a
smart and successful businessman. But the
flustered, blushing, tongue-tied Brant who stood
before him now was the cutest thing Jacob had
ever seen. That guileless charm stirred something

in Jacob he’d never felt before.

But it doesn’t matter, Jacob reminded himself.
Whatever crackled between them couldn’t be

—Christopher, on paper, was his perfect match,
and Jacob had grown to love him, flaws and all.

But the heart is smarter than paper.
“Here you are, my lovelies.” Violet handed

them each a glass of red wine, then reached around
and grabbed one for herself from Adam, who had
joined them. She raised her glass. “A toast to my
dear friends, who will soon learn their Auntie Vi
is always right.”

“To Auntie Vi,” they all said in unison,

glasses held high for a clank just shy of shattering
the crystal goblets. Jacob watched over the rim of
his glass as Brant took a large gulp.

“You realize that photo is going to be on the

front page of Xtra! next Thursday, don’t you. The
caption will prophesize the wedding of the year.”

Brant choked on his wine, and though the next

moment crawled by in slow motion, Jacob knew
he’d never be able to replay just how it happened.

Brant’s free hand flew to his mouth in an attempt at
containing the mouthful of wine that had suddenly
reversed engines. He bent at the waist slightly and
somehow managed to trip over what had probably
been his own feet. Then basic logistics took over
and propelled his body forward—right into Jacob.

Thank God it was red wine and at room

temperature, but even so, Jacob sucked in a breath
as the cool liquid soaked through his once-white
silk shirt and trickled down the front of his black
slacks. Arms spread out at his sides, Jacob looked
up and realized everyone in their immediate
vicinity had frozen in place, all staring at the dark
red splotch spreading over his chest and abdomen
like he was some poor hapless victim in a D-list
horror movie.

Brant met his eyes, looking like he was about

to throw up. “I am beyond mortified.”

Yes, it was one of his best silk shirts, but it

was only a shirt and wasn’t worth ruining anyone’s
night over. He certainly didn’t want to see that
expression on Brant’s face again. Not for any

reason. “Don’t worry, gorgeous,” he assured,
hoping Brant would hear the sincerity in his voice.
“It’s okay. Really.”

“No, it really isn’t. That’s silk. I’ll get help.”
Before Jacob could tell him it didn’t matter,

Brant was gone. He looked over at Violet and
Adam. Adam looked as horrified as Brant had, but
Violet was barely suppressing breaking out into
laughter, which would surely set him off in a fit of
the giggles too. He didn’t want Brant to take it the
wrong way so he bit back the urge and shook his
head. “Don’t, Vi. The poor man feels horrible
enough.”

“I know, but you have to admit it’s pretty

funny, Jakey.”

“Oh, it is.” Jacob handed his glass, wine still

safely contained within, to Violet, then plucked at
the drenched shirt, pulling it carefully away from
his skin. “So call me tomorrow, and we’ll bust
guts about it over lunch.”

“We booked a room here for the night,” Adam

said. “I have a change of clothes you can borrow,

Jacob. Not as fancy, I’m afraid, but still
presentable enough for semiformal.”

“Thanks, Adam. I should probably just track

down Christopher and head out.”

Violet gasped. “Not before midnight, you will

not!”

Brant appeared at his side before he could

respond, gaze downcast as he worried at his lower
lip. “Here.” He held his hands up to show his
wine-stain-remover collection. “Napkins, a wet
cloth, and salt. The bartender said soak silk in salt,
and the wine comes right out. I think you have to
take your shirt off first…” Brant lifted his gaze to
meet Jacob’s, but Jacob couldn’t get a read on the
tornado-like emotions swirling in their fathomless
depths. Suddenly all Jacob wanted to do was grab
Brant by the neck and kiss him until they both grew
dizzy from lack of oxygen.

“What in the hell?” Christopher barked,

having stealthily joined the fray. Startled yet again,
Jacob’s heart jumped so high up his throat it
practically bounced off his tonsils. How many

shocks could it take in one night before it had
enough and packed it in? He really didn’t want to
know. That he was still standing was a good sign
though. He’d take it.

“Jesus, Jake.” All eyes turned to Christopher,

and guilt splashed through Jacob’s veins. Two
years he’d been with Christopher. Two years he’d
been happy. But twenty minutes with Brant
Hudson, and Jacob had all but forgotten him. What
did that say? Not something he wanted to examine
at the moment. More pressing things mattered, such
as getting out of his wet shirt.

“That was my fault,” Brant said in a clipped

tone that surprised Jacob. Granted he didn’t know
Brant, but from what his gut had been telling him,
that tone seemed out of character. So did the hard
look in Brant’s eyes, which was directed at
Christopher. Jacob looked back to his boyfriend
and found the same expression aimed at Brant.
Tension vibrated in the air between them, and
Jacob could have sworn he could hear a low
growl coming from Brant. Or maybe that was

Christopher.

Jacob loudly cleared his throat, drawing

attention back to himself. He’d find out what that
unspoken standoff was about later. “It’s not a big
deal. Nothing a little salt soak can’t fix, and Adam
has a spare shirt upstairs I can change into for
now.”

Christopher looked back down to Jacob’s

shirt and shook his head. “We should just call it a
night. We won’t miss much here anyway.”

“Oh no,” Violet said in a condescendingly

sweet voice. “My best friend will stay here and
ring in the New Year with me. Like every year
since the day we met.”

Christopher glared at Violet for a long

moment. Jacob didn’t know why he still bothered.
Christopher had no hope in hell of winning an
argument with her. No one did. He finally
acquiesced, glanced at his watch, and then turned
to Jacob. “Fine, but there’s no point in changing
your shirt now. It’s only a couple of minutes to
midnight.”

“Good,” Violet said and then handed Jacob

his drink back, which he immediately took a large
gulp of. The atmosphere in the room had physically
changed around him, and his festive spirit had
waned.

“Christopher, this is Brant Hudson. Brant,

Christopher Kellan,” Jacob said when he noticed
the two men sizing each other up again, like
wrestlers looking for hidden weaknesses in their
opponents. Neither made a move to offer a
handshake, only a slight nod of acknowledgment.
“Jacob’s boyfriend,” Christopher said with a note
of challenge in his voice.

“I gathered,” Brant responded in kind.
Jacob asked, “Do you two know each other?”
They both shook their heads, but neither said

a word.

Jacob glanced over at Violet, who was

clearly amused watching the exchange. She met his
eyes and winked. Her lips tilted up in a wicked
smile. Damn woman. Jacob shook his head and
poured another oversize gulp of wine down his

gullet as the lights dimmed and the seconds ticked
off to a new year.

The clock struck twelve and amid party

horns, cheers, and confetti and balloons falling
from the high, ornate ceilings of Hotel
Vancouver’s grand ballroom, Christopher pulled
Jacob to him and kissed him with an abandon he’d
never before shown in public. Christopher might
be flirtatious, but he had never been big on PDAs,
other than the occasional subtle marking of his
territory where Jacob was concerned, but the kiss
went on. Like one of those iconic photos from
Times Square, of the sailor kissing his girl good-
bye before he goes off to war. The kind of kiss he
never dreamed he’d receive from Christopher
outside their bedroom. The kind of kiss Jacob
should have sunk right into, completely forgetting
the world existed beyond where their mouths and
bodies met, but he still remained actively aware of
his surroundings and the people standing close by.

Until Violet chirped, “My turn!” so close his

ears rang.

Christopher looked proud of himself when

Jacob pulled back. He had no idea what had made
his boyfriend put on such a show, but suddenly he
wished Christopher hadn’t come with him tonight.
Which sent another wave of guilt thudding into
him. How many times had he wanted Christopher
to kiss him just like that in public? And now that he
had, it wasn’t at all like Jacob had imagined it
would be. He wasn’t feeling dizzy; his knees
weren’t weak, and the ground didn’t shift under his
feet. For all its grandeur, it was just a kiss.

“Because what you want isn’t always what

you need.” His own words echoed in the back of
his mind.

Jacob looked over Christopher’s shoulder

and saw Brant watching them, watching him, and
something in those dark eyes called to him
dangerously. Something shifted inside. The earth
did tilt ever so slightly then at the sudden
realization: Brant was the one he wanted to kiss
into the New Year. Brant, who he’d only just met
but felt an intense need to know better. Brant was

the one he wanted to go home with tonight.

Jacob tore his gaze away from Brant and

sighed. An uncomfortable weight settled onto his
shoulders, and his thoughts flitted about like bees,
none landing long enough to settle in. He didn’t
know if he had what he needed or if what he
needed was what he wanted.

God, he was so screwed.

Chapter Three

Even the cold, heavy rain typical of

Vancouver winters couldn’t dampen the light that
filled Brant’s mind at the thought of seeing Jacob
Cruz again. It had been a week since he’d made a
fool of himself on New Year’s Eve. A week he’d
spent contemplating his life and taking stock. And
a week he’d spent fantasizing about the man in
question.

He’d spent a good chunk of time thinking

about Glen too. He’d called off a date with Glen
earlier in the week because it just wouldn’t have
been fair to spend time with him while thinking of
another man. No one deserved that, and Brant had
been a lifelong serial monogamist, thanks to the
example his parents set early on in his life. Though
he’d only been seeing Glen a short time, and they
weren’t officially committed or exclusive, it still
went outside Brant’s moral composition to date
more than one man at a time. Playing the field
wasn’t a part of his makeup, and he did genuinely

care for Glen. He just didn’t get the butterflies,
sweaty palms, or heart palpitations with him. That
didn’t mean they couldn’t have a good
relationship. Just a different kind. The question
he’d had to ask himself was if that was the kind of
relationship he truly wanted.

But when he’d met Jacob, when he’d felt the

air shimmer between them and the heady weight of
Jacob’s sparkling gaze on him, he knew the answer
without a doubt. With the way he’d been spending
every waking—and sleeping—hour thinking about
Jacob Cruz since, he knew Glen shouldn’t be a
part of his life right now. The day before standing
in the rain on Jacob’s block, he’d gone to Glen’s
house and broken it off with him—then gone
shopping for a very special shirt.

Brant exhaled a long breath that fogged the air

in front of him. He watched it swirl and vanish into
the slate-gray skies on winds that threatened to
lean the rain sideways. Regardless of what may or
may not ever come of him and Jacob, meeting him
made it clear to Brant that Glen was not the one for

him. Had he been, Brant would have simply
appreciated the beauty and humor and graceful
caress of sunlight that was Jacob Cruz and moved
on. Though Jacob probably would have been one
of those men who lingered in his memory
afterward.

After a few endless minutes standing on a

rainy corner in Vancouver’s trendy Yaletown
warehouse district, with water running off the
edges of his umbrella in thick rivulets, the wet
cold beginning to breach the barrier of his thick
wool greatcoat and seep into his bones, he sucked
in a lung-chilling breath of crisp air and marched
forward.

Stepping under the cover of the glass and

steel overhang of Jacob’s converted heritage
building, Brant collapsed the umbrella and shook it
free of excess rain. He placed the package he’d
been carrying around since yesterday afternoon on
the ground next to the front door while he removed
his gloves, stuffed them into his pockets, and then
ran both hands through his hair. Then with another

deep breath to help ward off his growing nerves,
he picked up the bag, straightened his coat, and
pushed through the door.

Calm immediately settled over him. While

Brant worked his consulting business out of his
home, he never entertained clients there. He had a
small house near the beach in Kitsilano, which
was his private haven. Jacob, however, had
combined the two by turning the ground floor of his
converted loft-style apartment into a functional
office and meeting place. Masculine dark brown
leather furniture set against rust-colored brick
walls and accented with modern accessories
worked to create a relaxing and comfortable space
meant to put Jacob’s clients at ease and promote a
more personal interaction. Brant had to agree:
mission accomplished. Droplights hung from the
high ceiling and cast a soft glow over a large
mahogany desk. Two plush leather chairs sat
facing it. The subtle aromas of vanilla and
cinnamon filled the air and made Brant think of his
mom’s kitchen.

The best part of the office was the man in it.

Jacob looked up, and the smile that spread across
his handsome face shone like a beacon through the
heavy dark clouds of winter. He could save the
world with that smile alone. Just like that, the
soul-searching turmoil of the previous week and
remnants of guilt at breaking it off with Glen lifted
from Brant’s shoulders. He did the right thing. He
knew without a doubt Jacob was the man he’d
been looking for all his life, and the chaotic flutter
of butterflies in his stomach agreed. “When you
know, you know.” His mom’s voice echoed in his
mind.

Jacob rose from his desk, came around to

meet Brant halfway, and took his free hand in
greeting. Today he wore faded designer jeans that
clung perfectly in all the right places, a white
Henley underneath a red pin-striped dress shirt,
and red sneakers. A touch of eyeliner brought out
the hazel of his gorgeous eyes, but it was his
incredible smile that made him the most beautiful
man Brant had ever seen.

“Mr. Romance,” Jacob teased, and his soft-

pitched voice washed over Brant and matched the
heat of the hand still holding his. “This is a nice
surprise. What brings you by?”

Brant cleared his throat, heart thumping

heavily, and raised his other hand, which held the
shopping bag. “I wanted to bring you a little
apology.”

“Apology? For what?”
“For ruining your beautiful shirt on New

Year’s. I felt so horrible about that. Still do. And I
wanted to”— see you again—“make amends
somehow.”

Jacob slowly released Brant’s hand and

carefully took the bag from him. Brant felt the loss
of the other man’s heat immediately and clenched
his hand into a fist, as if that would somehow trap
the warmth so he could keep it with him. Curiosity
and merriment flashed in Jacob’s eyes, and an
image came to Brant’s mind of Jacob sneaking
around the house at Christmastime snooping for
peeks at his gifts. Brant wondered what other

excuses he could come up with to give Jacob a gift
every day, just to bask in that infectious
effervescence.

“You really didn’t need to do this, gorgeous.”
“I did.” Brant smiled and gestured to the bag.

“Please.”

Jacob turned to set the bag on top of his desk

and then tore at the tissue paper like a man on a
mission until the gift inside was revealed. He
paused a moment, his whole body still, and then
slowly lifted the crisp white dress shirt out of the
bag and held it up in front of him. Brant had
searched high and low for the finest silk shirt he
could find. This one had silver-and-gold threaded
piping, and onyx buttons with a pearl finish, and
he’d gone as far as having JC embroidered inside
the collar.

Jacob turned back to Brant and pulled the

shirt tight against his chest. His green-brown eyes
filled with a bright sheen that made the gold
highlights within sparkle like diamonds. “This is
gorgeous,” he whispered reverently. “And far too

much. You shouldn’t have.”

Nothing will ever be too much for you. “No,

it isn’t. It’s the least I could do, and I would do it
again in a heartbeat.”

Jacob stood staring at him for a long moment,

and then he stepped forward and wrapped his arms
around Brant. The top of his head came to Brant’s
chin, perfect height for tucking the man in close.

“Thank you,” he said into Brant’s shoulder. “I

can’t wait to wear it.”

Brant didn’t really hear what Jacob said. All

he could concentrate on was the man in his arms—
how the lean, firm body felt pressed to his, the
fresh, crisp notes of lavender and mint in Jacob’s
cologne, the warmth of Jacob’s skin, and the moist
breath gusting across his neck. He pulled Jacob
tighter to him and slid his cheek against Jacob’s
silky hair, then closed his eyes and reveled in this
one perfect moment.

For a second Jacob’s body had gone lax, and

he sank into Brant, and then he tensed. Jacob let
go, and the spell broke, leaving Brant suddenly

feeling bereft and momentarily lost. Outside, fat
and furious raindrops drummed forcefully on glass,
metal, and steel, and echoed loudly in the acute
silence of Jacob’s office. Jacob stepped back, not
making eye contact, and quietly said, “Sorry. I…”

He turned away and lovingly refolded the

shirt before returning it to the bag. He shoved his
hands into his pockets and faced Brant again. He
shifted from foot to foot and just then looked so
nervous and young Brant just wanted to pull him
back into his arms, make him smile again, and see
those eyes sparkle with delight. Brant surprised
himself by managing to keep a rein on his
wandering mouth before asking Jacob what had
just happened there. Either Jacob was so touched
by Brant’s gift that he embarrassed himself with
his exuberant thank-you or he also felt what Brant
was feeling. If it was the previous, Brant didn’t
want to call attention and embarrass Jacob further,
and if it was the latter, Brant knew he couldn’t
push. Jacob was already involved with someone,
and if he wanted Brant, he’d have to leave
Christopher on his own. Brant would just have to

be patient and pray his dreams would be
answered.

“That was really kind of you, Brant. It’s

lovely. Thank you.”

“You’re more than welcome. I wish I could

do more.”

Silence stretched between them, neither

seeming to know what to say next. Brant only knew
he hadn’t had enough time with Jacob yet.

“Listen,” he started. “Are you doing anything

right now?”

“No,” Jacob said with a touch of caution in

his tone. “Not really.”

“Good. Let’s go do something for a while.”
Jacob hesitated just long enough for Brant to

worry he would say no, and when Jacob said his
name, his heart sank, anticipating the rejection he
felt was sure to come.

“Okay,” Jacob said, his voice strong and

certain now. “What do you want to do?”

* * * *

Jacob rocked forward, then backward and

kind of to the side, his arms windmilling wildly in
a last-ditch effort to regain his balance.
Unfortunately while his upper body went left and
his lower body went right, his feet decided to go in
a completely different direction all their own. The
skates kicked out from underneath him, and the air
whooshed from his lungs as he landed on his back.
He lay still for a moment, staring up at the winking
white lights that lined the glass dome of Robson
Square’s sunken ice-skating rink.

His vision blurred briefly and then sharpened

and filled with the handsome and very concerned
face of Brant Hudson as he dropped to his knees
beside Jacob. The frown and tightly pressed lips
weren’t a good look for the man, Jacob decided.
He’d have to do something about that. In a minute.

“Oh my God, Jacob,” Brant said. “That was

kind of spectacular. Are you hurt?”

Jacob couldn’t help the laughter that broke

free. “I haven’t skated since I was like…ten or
something. That was a blast!”

“Falling on your ass is fun?”
“Well, no. Now that you mention it, I’m

probably going to be bruised for a week.”

Brant’s frown deepened, concern still sharp

in his eyes. Jacob placed a hand on Brant’s thigh
and gave him a nudge. He chalked the little thrill
that charged through him at feeling the solid muscle
under his touch up to adrenaline and said in a light
voice, “Happy faces only. I’ll live, and I’m having
fun.”

Brant nodded but still seemed too tense.
“So it was spectacular, was it?” Jacob asked

in a teasing tone, determined to put Brant at ease.

“Very.”
“How do you think I scored? Ten out of ten,

even from the Russian judge?”

Brant relaxed visibly and then started

laughing. The hearty, deep-chested sound sent a
shiver through Jacob’s veins and made him want to
do whatever he could to hear that laugh again and
again. Then Brant shook his head and stuck out his
hand. “Come on, you goof. Off the ice.”

Mission accomplished.
Pleased with himself, Jacob wrapped his

gloved hand around Brant’s and let the taller man
pull him to his feet. He rocked and swayed a little,
while clutching onto Brant with both hands until
his balance aligned.

“Maybe we should take you to the hospital

and have your head checked. You hit the ice pretty
hard,” Brant said, his expression worried and
serious again.

Jacob let go and pushed away from Brant.

“Less talk, more skate,” he said. Then with a hoot
and a holler, he turned and skated away in a sure
and straight line that surprised even himself after
his third spill. He didn’t care how many times he
fell, not if it had the two of them laughing like
loons.

He couldn’t remember the last time he’d

laughed so hard or had such a carefree afternoon. It
wasn’t like his life was stressful or overly filled
with strife, but it seemed to have fallen into a
somewhat mundane pattern over the years.

Christopher wasn’t big on spontaneity or trying
new things. A day like today could easily become
addictive. The care and undivided attention he was
receiving from his new friend could definitely
grow into something he couldn’t do without, and
already he didn’t want to think about returning to
his regularly scheduled life. He wanted to stretch
this out as long as he could.

Brant caught up to him on the second turn in

the small rink, and they settled into a smooth
rhythm, skating comfortably side by side,
shoulders bumping from time to time. Jacob
glanced over at Brant; the smile that spread across
his lips wouldn’t be denied. He wanted to tell
Brant how much he was enjoying their time
together, how much being with Brant gave him a
perma-grin, how much lighter he felt, and most of
all, how much he wanted to kiss him right then.
Except he couldn’t, because he was already
committed to Christopher. Instead he said, “This
was a good idea. Thank you.”

Brant bumped his shoulder gently and

returned his smile. “My pleasure. I’m glad you
came.”

“Me too.”
“Hey! Watch out!”
Jacob and Brant both turned just in time to see

three teenage girls fighting for balance at the last
minute. Brant slid to a sudden stop like a pro
hockey player while Jacob folded over himself in
an attempt to put on the brakes, as if sticking his
butt out worked the way reversing jet engines did.
Brant grabbed him by the back of his jacket, but
Jacob was already well over his center of gravity
and with enough leverage to pull Brant down with
him. The two of them tumbled headfirst into the
pileup.

Brant was the first to pull free from the

wreckage and immediately started helping the
casualties to their feet. Jacob was up next and
helped the last girl up.

“Oh my God, we’re so sorry,” Jacob said as

he quickly scanned the girls for obvious injuries.
“Are you girls okay?”

“Yeah,” the tallest of three said distractedly

as she dusted snow from her coat.

“Skating totally sucks.” This from a girl with

porcelain skin, cheeks flushed with perfect bright
red patches, and indignation in her bright blue
eyes. “Totally should have gone to the movies
instead.”

The third girl had yet to say anything. She

stayed behind the other two and cast covert
glances at Jacob and Brant as she dusted herself
off. Her rapid breath puffed out small gossamer
clouds in the chilly air.

“Are you okay, honey?” Jacob asked.
Her eyes shot up to meet his, surprised, and

then she smiled shyly. She nodded and quietly
said, “I’m good, thank you.”

“I’m sorry we weren’t watching where we

were going. If it helps any, this is the fourth time
I’ve fallen down.”

Brant rested his hand on Jacob’s shoulder and

said with a note of pride in his voice, “You should
have seen him. Spectacular. The last one was

definitely Olympic medalworthy.”

The girls giggled; the shy girl, apparently

feeling a little more comfortable, moved to stand
beside her friends.

“I’m Jacob,” he said as he struck his hand out

first to Shy Girl. “And this is my friend, Brant.”

As they shook hands, the girls introduced

themselves. Julie was the tall one, Mary the
porcelain-skinned redhead, and Shy Girl’s name
was Darla.

“We’ve had about enough skating for one day,

I think.” Jacob looked to Brant for agreement, and
when he nodded, Jacob continued, “But if you
three are about done too we’d love to treat you to a
hot chocolate. Least we can do for knocking you
down like bowling pins.”

They

looked

to

one

another

and

communicated in the silent secret code girls have
that no man would ever in a million years be able
to decipher—at least that’s what Violet had told
him when she and his sister, Isabell, got together.
Though Jacob didn’t really know how the secret

code worked when there was a steady stream of
chatter when the two of them were together.

Having reached a mutual agreement, Julie, the

trio’s apparent leader, said, “We’d love to, but we
just got here.”

“Fair enough,” Brant said. “Tell you what.

I’ll ask the barista to have three tall hot chocolates
with whipped cream and marshmallows ready for
you guys when you’re done.”

“Really?” Julie and Mary said at the same

time.

Brant laughed. “Yes, really.”
“Cool!” The girls chirped in unison. Then

Julie and Mary turned away and took off at an
unsteady skate. “See you around, Jacob and
Brant,” they shouted.

Darla hung back for a second, her timid gaze

boldly taking in Jacob and Brant. Then she smiled
and leaned forward. “You two are cute together.”
Her cheeks rapidly flushed bright red, and she
skated off to join her friends.

“What a beautiful young girl,” Jacob said. He

turned to see Brant watching him, the corners
around his kind brown eyes crinkled while soft
grooves bracketed a warm smile. The expression
on his rugged face filled Jacob with light and
strength, and he suddenly found himself wanting to
get lost in that look, lost in that smile…in that man.

“Come on, Elvis,” Brant said. His voice was

low and rough around the edges and did funny
things to Jacob’s insides. “Let me buy you a hot
chocolate.”

“Elvis?”
“Elvis Stojko? Canadian and world figure-

skating champion?”

“Right. Lead on, coach to the stars,” Jacob

teased.

Brant cupped Jacob’s elbow, and pain shot

up his arm and into his shoulder. Brant
immediately

let

go.

Concern

marred

his

complexion. “Jacob?”

He looked up at Brant and, after a few short

and quick breaths, managed to say in a hoarse
voice, “I think maybe we should go to the ER after

all.”

Chapter Four

“As promised,” Brant said as he held out a

plastic-capped white paper cup. “Hot chocolate.”

Jacob smiled up at him and took the cup with

his left hand, careful not to jostle his right arm
from the comfortable position it had taken him the
better part of fifteen minutes to find. His gaze
followed Brant as he lowered himself down in the
uncomfortable waiting-room chair on Jacob’s
uninjured side.

“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” Brant lifted his cup and

tapped the rim to Jacob’s before taking a sip. “Not
quite what I’d planned, but it’ll do.”

“Oh? You had plans?”
“Totally spontaneous!” Brant lifted his free

hand as though swearing the truth on a Bible.
“Gourmet hot chocolate sprinkled with cinnamon
at that cozy café on Hamilton Street where we
could sit by the fire and talk until closing time.”

“Sounds a bit romantic for friends having a

drink, eh,” Jacob said softly, a smile in his voice.

Brant chuckled. “Can’t take the romance out

of Mr. Romance.”

“No, I guess not.” Jacob looked away, his

gaze drifting across the emergency room, and
sighed.

“I’m really sorry, Jacob.”
Jacob turned back to Brant with a frown.

“What for now?”

“First for ruining your shirt and now for

breaking your arm.”

“Drama queen,” Jacob teased and nudged his

elbow against Brant’s where they rested side by
side on their chair arms. “The shirt’s been
replaced by something far better—not that it
needed to be, mind you—and I doubt my arm is
actually broken. Just sprained, maybe.”

“You can’t sprain an elbow.”
“So maybe it’s not my elbow, which you

definitely can sprain by the way and hurts way

more than a clean break. But it wasn’t your fault at
all.”

“It was my idea to go skating, and—”
“And I was having a fantastic time, still am.

Gorgeous, please, no more apologizing.”

Brant opened his mouth, but Jacob cut him off

again with a stern look. “Stop. We had a fun,
spontaneous afternoon of skating, and now we’re
enjoying stimulating conversation over hot
chocolate. This is a day I will always remember.
What could be better?”

“I could think of a few things better worth

remembering.” Brant wiggled his eyebrows
suggestively, receiving the desired response when
heat flashed through Jacob’s eyes. His eyeliner had
smudged during their adventures, and now he had
that smoky look that was all the rage these days. It
was a good look on him, Brant thought. But then,
he couldn’t imagine much not looking good on
Jacob.

“Come on.” Jacob cleared his throat and

looked away, then took a sip of his hot drink. “You

wanted to talk. We’ll probably be sitting here for
hours, so start talking.”

Brant took in Jacob’s profile for a long

moment, noticing the copper streaks running
through his dark hair, the way his bangs hung just
far enough to catch on long, dark lashes when he
blinked. His nose was perfectly straight, his brow
strong, and pronounced, fine stubble beginning to
show on otherwise smooth-looking skin. Jacob
cast a knowing sideways glance at him. Brant had
the sudden urge to brush the unruly hair from
Jacob’s eye and run the pad of his thumb over
Jacob’s enticing lips before kissing them. His skin
tingled at the mere thought of it, his mind played it
out clearly, but a warning from the depths of his
consciousness pulled him back before he acted on
his desires: Jacob wasn’t available.

Jacob raised an eyebrow, and Brant put on a

smile he hoped wouldn’t give away his feelings.
He didn’t want to make Jacob uncomfortable or
ruin their budding friendship. “Okay, okay. I’ll
start talking.” He angled himself to better face

Jacob. “Family?”

Jacob followed suit and carefully shifted in

his seat toward Brant. “Just my mom and my sister.
My dad took off when I was nine. He remarried
soon after and had three more kids. They’re still
together. My mom never remarried, but she’s been
living with her long-time boyfriend for a dozen
years now, which I guess makes her common-law
married.”

“Are you close with your dad?”
“Not at all.” Jacob looked down and

mumbled, “Just the practice family, I guess.”

“I’m sorry,” Brant said. It was a lame

response, but he didn’t know what else to say,
unable to imagine life without his father there.

Jacob shrugged. “The three of us were—are

—a complete unit. Never missed him, and I doubt
he misses us. You?”

Something in his tone told Brant that maybe

Jacob did miss his dad, but he didn’t press it. He
didn’t want to lead Jacob down a melancholy path.
“Two brothers, one sister, and parents still

together as much in love as they were the day they
met.”

“Sounds nice.”
“When they’re not all up in your love life, it

is. What got you into matchmaking?”

“I had a knack for it.” Jacob paused, and his

gaze took on a faraway look for a moment, then he
laughed. “I almost got my ass kicked when I told
the first couple they were meant for each other.”

“How so?”
“A couple of guys I knew in high school. One

was sort of out, and the other acted as straight as
they come. Stephen was furious. Oh my God, I’ll
never forget the day he cornered me in the parking
lot and threatened to beat the living daylights out of
me if I told anyone.”

“So what happened?”
“Nine years now, and they still act like

hormone-crazed teenagers together. The day
Canada officially legalized same-sex marriage,
Stephen proposed to Joe. Their wedding was one
of the best I’ve ever been to.”

“That’s a wonderful story.”
Jacob nodded, and a wistful smile played on

his lips. “One of my favorites.”

“You’re a bit of a romantic yourself there too,

Mr. Matchmaker.”

“I just like helping get two people meant for

each other together, knowing I played a small part
in making the world a better place by creating a
little happiness.” Jacob did a kind of two-gust
huff-chuckle and looked away, a flush of color
darkening his cheeks and neck.

“That’s a beautiful thing, Jacob,” Brant said

quietly and resisted the urge to pull Jacob in closer
and breathe in his scent.

Jacob shot him a quick, shy smile and then

flicked at the lid of the cup in his hand with his
thumb. Which drew Brant’s gaze to Jacob’s left
hand where it rested on the chair’s armrest, close
to his own. Jacob’s long fingers wrapped loosely
around the cup of hot chocolate that was surely
cold by now. A silver band would look good
against his olive skin. The thought came out of

nowhere, but Brant had always wanted to get
married someday. Have a big wedding outdoor by
the creek in his parents’ back forty. And for the
first time, sitting in an ER waiting room with a man
he’d spent less than twenty-four hours with, he
could actually see it happening. There you go,
Hudson. Letting your heart run away with your
head again.

“So…” Brant cleared his throat. “Christopher

is your perfect match, then?”

Jacob’s smile slipped, and he looked away.

Brant immediately wanted to smack himself.
Again. How many times was he going to stick his
foot in his mouth where Jacob was concerned?
Why was it every time he was around Jacob, his
mouth took the reins and ran the race while he just
hung on and hoped he didn’t land in shit when he
fell?

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that,” he

apologized.

“No, no. It’s fine.” Jacob shifted in his seat

and winced when he bumped his injured elbow.

Brant took the now empty cup from Jacob and
placed it on the coffee table on his other side, then
took Jacob’s free hand in his. He didn’t know what
to say that might help, but hopefully just letting
Jacob know he was there was enough. Jacob
squeezed his hand and shot him a grateful but
guarded look.

“We’ve been together for two years now,”

Jacob said when he’d settled his arm again. His
voice was still a little tight. “And you? You said
you have a boyfriend?”

“Yeah, uh. I did.”
Jacob shot him an unreadable look. “So, on

New Year’s you did, and today you don’t?”

“Well, we weren’t all that serious. We’d only

been dating for a couple of months.” Brant laughed
at the irony of that. He hadn’t been serious about
Glen after two months, but in less than a day he
was already picturing a ring on Jacob’s finger. It
shouldn’t be possible to feel so much so fast. It
should be frightening instead of euphoric, but like
his mom and dad had always said about when

they’d first met: “When you know, you know.” He
couldn’t refute their wisdom when they had almost
forty years together to back them up, and if they felt
even half of what he felt the first time he met
Jacob…

“What’s so funny?”
“Nothing.”
Jacob narrowed his eyes and stared at him for

a long moment but didn’t press. “Is that why he
wasn’t at the New Year’s party with you? You
were already on the outs?”

“No. He’s an ER doctor and always works

the holidays and big-event weekends. He’s, uh,
working today actually.”

“Here? What’s his name?”
Brant nodded and said, “Glen Roberts.”
“Hmm… Perhaps he’ll be the one to patch me

up, and I can check out what kind of man does it
for you.”

Brant heard the tease in Jacob’s voice, but it

didn’t stop him from lowering his own voice and

casting a pointed look when he said, “I think you
know that answer already.”

* * * *

Jacob stumbled drunkenly into Brant’s side as

they left St. Paul’s Hospital and crossed Burrard
Street. “Easy there, hot stuff,” Brant said, as he
wrapped one arm around Jacob’s waist and pulled
him tight to his side, while making sure the
umbrella protected them both from the unrelenting
rain.

“You don’t need to see me home.”
“I do,” Brant said. “You clearly can’t hold

your prescription drugs.”

“I don’t take drugs of any kind. Ever.

Besides, it’s just Tylenol.”

“With codeine,” Brant corrected. Jacob

probably could have gotten home on his own just
fine. It turned out it was only a sprain, and Glen
had immobilized Jacob’s arm in a sling, sending
him off with enough painkillers to last a couple of
days, but Brant wasn’t raised that way. Whether

Jacob agreed or not, it was Brant’s fault. Maybe
Brant hadn’t pushed him down, but Jacob wouldn’t
have been out there skating otherwise. As far as he
was concerned, it was his responsibility to look
out for Jacob. Besides, his mom would be
disappointed if she knew he’d sent an injured man
off on his own.

“Doctor Glen’s kind of hot,” Jacob said

conversationally, though it sounded like fishing to
Brant.

“Yeah, he’s not bad.”
“So why didn’t it work out?”
Because I met you. Brant quickly focused his

attention off that train of thought and onto
navigating their way along the wet sidewalk and
through

an

onslaught

of

umbrella-armed

pedestrians.

“You

tell

me.

You’re

the

matchmaker.”

Jacob shook his head. There was exaggerated

seriousness in his voice when he said, “You have
to pay the big bucks for those kinds of answers,
gorgeous.”

Brant chuckled and pulled Jacob tighter

against him as they huddled together under the
umbrella and briskly walked the half dozen or so
blocks back to Yaletown. They probably could
have taken a cab instead of walking, but they’d get
there faster on foot anyway. On a rainy Vancouver
night like this, it would easily take half an hour to
flag down a cab. Besides, Brant didn’t want to
give up this perfect opportunity to hold Jacob
close.

“Thank you, Brant,” Jacob said when they

reached the front door of his loft and stood under
the shelter of the building’s overhang. “I did have
fun today, sprain and all.”

“I did too, until the hospital part.”
“Hey! We had hot chocolate and good

conversation. Don’t knock it.”

Brant smiled. “Yes, we did.” And he didn’t

want it to be over. He wanted to stay in this little
fantasy where there was no Christopher, and he
and Jacob could be together and they were free to
act on all their desires and needs. He reached out

and adjusted Jacob’s jacket so it covered more of
the braced arm underneath; then he let his hand rest
open-palmed over Jacob’s heart. He couldn’t feel
it through the thick coat and shirt layers
underneath, but he imagined it beating hard and
strong against his hand. He knew he should
probably drop his hand, but found himself unable
to break the tentative connection. He lifted his gaze
to meet Jacob’s, and his breath caught in the back
of his throat. Those gorgeous kohl-framed eyes
glittered back at him, pupils dilated and a fire
burning in their depths. There was no doubt in
Brant’s mind that Jacob felt the same as he.
Adrenaline surged through his blood, and his heart
beat faster.

He looked to Jacob’s mouth as his full lips

parted slightly. As if drawn by some magnetic
force, Brant felt his body begin to lean forward
with single-minded focus until Jacob’s rapid
breath mixed with his, creating a dreamlike fog
between them. The balm of rain and mint swirled
together and heightened his senses, and the craving
to taste and feel and revel in Jacob crowded out

all the reasons why he needed to pull back. When
his lips were a mere sliver from brushing over
Jacob’s, just the tickling promise of touch, a hand
settled on his chest and gently pushed.

“Brant…” Jacob said his name like a plea—a

regret—and stepped back to open the space
between them the full length of his arm. Confusion
and guilt fought to douse the fire that still flickered
in his eyes. “You know we can’t be more than
friends, right?”

Whatever bubble Brant had slipped into

burst. The air felt colder, the rain louder, and the
night darker. He couldn’t have what he wanted.
Not yet. Maybe never. But that didn’t stop his mind
from railing, telling Jacob that he was with the
wrong person, that Jacob was the matchmaker and
should know the two of them who were meant for
each other. How did he say that to someone he just
met without sounding desperate and crazy? Brant
nodded and ran his hands through his hair, forcibly
biting back the words that pressed on the edge of
escape. “Right. You’re right. I’m sorry. I…”

“Do you think we’ll be able to do that? Just

be friends?”

Brant’s first response was to say it would be

no problem. He could be just friends if it meant
he’d get to spend time with Jacob, learn more
about him, and bask in the warmth of that beautiful
smile. It would be hard—good things never came
easy—but just friends would be enough. Yeah
right, you just keep on telling yourself that,
Hudson. Okay, it would be enough for now. But
maybe, someday down the road…

But he knew he’d never be able to lie to

Jacob. To himself maybe, but never to Jacob. “I
don’t know.”

Chapter Five

“You want me to do what?” Jacob spluttered;

a note of horror colored his voice.

Brant’s warm laughter came through the

phone line as clear as if he were standing right
there. “Snowshoe. You’ll love it, and today is a
perfect winter day to be up on the mountain. It’s
not like I’m asking you to go BASE jumping or
shark diving.”

“But I have a broken arm!” Jacob argued. It

wasn’t just the idea of snowshoeing that had his
resistance up; it was the spending-a-whole-
afternoon-with-Brant thing. He liked Brant, much
more than he should, which made being able to
relax and enjoy only Brant’s friendship somewhat
trying.

“No, you don’t. It was a mild sprain, and it’s

been three weeks. Besides, you use your feet, not
your elbow.”

“What if I fall down again and really break it

this time?”

“You won’t. Snowshoes are stable; we’ll be

on groomed trails, and snow makes for softer
landings than ice.”

“There’s rocks under the snow. Big, bone-

breaking ones.”

“And there’s four feet of cushiony snow

covering them.”

Jacob shifted tactics. “I’m a city boy,

gorgeous. I don’t have any mountain man clothing,
so—”

“So nothing. You run, don’t you?”
“Yes, but what does—”
“And you have proper winter running clothes,

right?”

“Yes, but—”
“Then you’re all set. Layer up, and let’s go. I

have some spare gaiters you can wear to help keep
the snow out of your shoes and your feet dry. It’s
not like we’re going to Everest. It’s just Grouse
Mountain, and we can have lunch and hot

chocolate after.”

“You and your hot chocolate,” Jacob teased.
“Gourmet hot chocolate,” Brant tossed back.

“By the fireplace.”

After a short pause, Jacob said, “Friends,” as

much to remind himself as Brant.

“Friends,” Brant repeated, the playful tone

gone from his voice as he continued, “enjoying
conversation over drinks after an invigorating day
of communing with Mother Nature.”

Jacob said, “The chalet is nice, and have you

eaten at the restaurant up there before? Stellar.”

“Is that a yes?”
“Well…” Jacob hummed and then pushed his

reservations aside. They were adults. They knew
the ground rules and could play by them. Besides,
he had a lot of friends that he did things with, and
hanging out with Brant wasn’t any different.
Except for the part where you’re totally attracted
to him. “Actually, I could do a little on-site recon
and get some arrangements taken care of for a
couple of my new clients while you’re off being

all outdoorsy.”

“Yeah, you can do that after we snowshoe.

Come on. Be spontaneous. What else have you got
going on today that could be more exciting than
that?”

“The last time I was spontaneous, I sprained

an elbow.”

“But you had fun…”
“Okay. Fine. But I swear, if anything breaks,

this is the last time I listen to your crazy ideas of
what constitutes fun.”

That deep laugh echoed through the phone

again, and a little niggle way in the back of
Jacob’s mind warned that he was playing with fire.
Brant had a way of making Jacob forget everything
and everyone else when they were together. A
quality he found as captivating as it was
dangerous. But he had good self-discipline; he’d
just have to keep his wits about him.

“Excellent,” Brant practically chirped. “I’ll

pick you up in an hour.”

* * * *

Four hours later, Brant dropped down into a

plush chair at a table closest to the floor-to-ceiling
brick fireplace, feeling rejuvenated and slightly
euphoric. Jacob sat across from him, his eyes
alight with joy, smile unstoppable, voice rising
and falling like summer music as he recapped their
afternoon with infectious exuberance.

“And it’s so blue,” Jacob said, awestruck.
“The sky?”
“No, gorgeous. The snow! In the depressions

and holes, the deeper they were, the bluer the snow
was. This gorgeous glacier blue.”

“That’s because it’s wet, coastal snow,”

Brant said, unable to keep the smile off his face at
Jacob’s enthusiasm. “Not dry and fluffy like the
stuff east of the Rockies. You can’t even make a
snowball with that stuff.”

Jacob turned to look outside and said, “I’ve

never seen anything like that before. It’s just so
beautiful.”

“Yes,” Brant said quietly as he admired

Jacob’s profile. His skin had that healthy flush that
could only come from physical exertion in the
elements. The late-afternoon sun shone through the
tall windows directly on him. Its fingers painted
thin trails of glittering copper in his hair and made
the green of his eyes lighter and somehow more
exotic. Yes, there was no denying Jacob Cruz was
a beautiful man. Outside and in.

Jacob turned back to face him, his expression

dreamy, and Brant’s heart swelled in his chest.
How one man—this man—could make the whole
world seem right as rain just by being in it, Brant
didn’t know. Didn’t care. He just knew everything
was better and brighter and full of hope and
promise when Jacob was near.

“I admit,” Jacob began, “I enjoyed that much

more than I thought I would. So much so I’d love to
get my own snowshoes and make a regular thing of
it.”

“See? I knew you’d love it,” Brant said.

“They have a weekly snowshoe and fondue night

that’s a lot of fun.”

“I saw that. What a fantastic idea for a first

date. I have to include this as an option for my
clients. I have a few who would absolutely love
this.”

“This is a great date.”
Jacob’s gaze bored into his, and Brant

belatedly realized what he’d just said. “I mean,
this would make a great date, not that we’re on a
date. Because we’re not. We’re…”

The light in Jacob’s eyes changed, dulled

somehow, and he lowered his eyelids as he quietly
finished Brant’s sentence. “Just friends.”

“Here you are, gentlemen,” their server said

cheerfully, interrupting the sudden awkward
moment as she placed two steaming cups of hot
chocolate in front of them.

Jacob smiled up at her. “Thank you, honey.”
“I’ll be back in just a minute with your

sandwiches.” And then she was off, oblivious to
the fact that Brant had once again shoved his whole
foot down his throat and put a damper on an

otherwise perfect day. He lifted his cup, but before
he could take a sip, he noticed Jacob holding his
up for a toast.

“To good friends,” Jacob said, tapping his

cup to Brant’s. “Thank you for introducing me to
the wonderful world of snowshoeing.”

“You’re welcome,” Brant said in relief,

grateful for the easy way Jacob had of putting them
back on solid ground.

True to her word, their server returned a

minute later with their lunches, which gave Brant
an extra pause to get himself back in check. Able
to relax again, Brant let Jacob lead them into
comfortable conversation, sharing tales from their
childhood to some of their more memorable
moments in the businesses.

With a sated sigh, Jacob pushed his empty

plate away and leaned back in his chair. “Now
that was the best sandwich I’ve ever had in my
life.”

Brant laughed. “Only because you worked up

a major appetite.”

The sound of breaking glass drew their

attention. Brant looked over his shoulder to see a
couple sitting a few tables over. A large man
scowled at a woman, who had her head down and
her hands clasped in her lap, as one of the servers
rushed to the table with a broom and dustpan to
clean up the broken glass.

When he turned back, Jacob was still

watching the couple over Brant’s shoulder; a dark
cloud marred his otherwise open and beautiful
face. Jacob’s hand tightened into a fist when they
overheard the man loudly say, “You stupid cow.
You did this on purpose,” with so much
vehemence it sent a shiver down Brant’s spine.

“Asshole,” Jacob bit out and then made like

he was going get up. Brant reached out and
grabbed Jacob’s wrist, keeping him seated.

“Whatever you’re thinking you’re going to do,

don’t.”

Jacob shot a hard, brief glance at him.

“Someone needs to stop him.”

“That guy is bigger than me, Jacob. He could

snap you in half if he wanted to. Me too.”

“I can’t just sit here and watch that.”
“I know, but confronting a guy like that,

clearly already looking for any excuse for a fight,
is not the way to do it.”

Jacob glared at Brant for a long moment, then

shook his hand for Brant to let go. Jacob stayed
put, but all his attention was focused on the arguing
couple, his body tense and poised for action.

“Find your own fucking way home, bitch,” the

man snapped. Then he strode past their table so
fast the wind from his wake felt like a hurricane
against Brant’s back. The second the man had
passed them, Jacob jumped to his feet.

“Jacob…” Brant warned and stood up, ready

to pull Jacob back or get in the middle of it if
needed. Instead of going after the man, Jacob
walked over to the table where the woman still sat,
shoulders slumped as she rocked in her chair.
When Jacob slowly crouched down beside her,
Brant lowered himself back into his chair and
watched. Jacob spoke quietly enough that Brant

couldn’t make out what he was saying, only the
soothing tone of his voice. After a few minutes,
Jacob smiled and placed his hand gently to the side
of the woman’s face. She leaned into him, and
Brant saw her smile bravely back. Jacob spoke
again; the woman nodded, and he dropped his hand
as she dug through her purse. She handed him a
piece of paper and a pen, and Jacob scribbled
something on it, then placed the paper in her hand
and closed her fingers around it. She nodded, and
then he stood up, her hand still clasped in his. He
drew their hands up and kissed her knuckles, then
let go and returned to their table.

“We’re leaving,” Jacob said, not making eye

contact. His voice sounded thick as he gathered his
jacket, gloves, and hat. He started to turn away but
paused like he’d forgotten something. He dug his
wallet out of his back pocket, and Brant noticed
how his hands shook as he tried to pull out some
bills.

“No,” Brant said. “It’s okay, I’ve got this.”
Jacob nodded distractedly, still not meeting

Brant’s gaze, and put his wallet away. “Thank
you.” Then he turned and walked toward the exit,
where he waited for Brant with his back to the
restaurant.

The gondola ride back down to the parking

lot was silent as Jacob stared blankly into the
darkening sky. Brant didn’t know what to say and
didn't know what had happened in the past to set
Jacob off like this, but he took a page from his
mom’s book when his dad had been troubled over
something. He stood back, there but not
demanding, and waited. When—if—Jacob was
ready he’d tell Brant what was going on.

“I’m sorry,” Jacob said quietly after Brant

had driven them down the mountain and the
darkness that had fallen over the city made it
easier for difficult conversations. “That kind of
thing really upsets me.”

“Want to talk about it?”
Jacob was quiet for so long that when he did

finally speak, Brant startled out of his thoughts.

“Kevin was one of my first clients when I

officially started His Perfect Match. He was a
sweetheart of a man—open, generous, playful, but
he lacked confidence. I found a few men for him,
all great guys whom I’d hoped would help bring
Kevin out of his shell. One of the men seemed
perfect on paper, as they all did, but I wasn’t
completely sold on him for some reason. I couldn’t
pinpoint why, but I knew I couldn’t let my personal
tastes dictate choices for others.

“So I introduced Kevin to all three, and he

decided this man, the one I’d developed a niggle
about, was the one. And off they rode into the
sunset.”

Jacob looked down and fidgeted with the

gloves he seemed to be gripping harder in his
hands.

“I try to keep in touch with my clients for the

first year at least. Make sure everything is going
well and they’re happy, but I’d lost touch with
Kevin almost right away. Every time I called, I got
his voice mail, and he never answered my
messages. When I called the other man—sorry, I

can’t say his name, just pisses me off more—he’d
only say everything was fantastic, they were
happy, and there was no need to keep checking up
on them.”

Jacob fell quiet for a long moment, and then

Brant prompted, already knowing where this story
was going. “But things weren’t fantastic, were
they?”

Jacob shook his head slowly and looked out

the passenger-side window. “No. I made a point of
just happening to run into Kevin when he was
leaving work one day. God, he—”

Jacob’s voice broke, and Brant’s heart bled

for him. He wished they weren’t having this
conversation while he was driving, but then, they
probably wouldn’t have been having it otherwise.

Jacob cleared his throat and continued.

“Kevin was a different man. Shriveled somehow.
The laughter and playfulness that had made him
such a joy was gone. He didn’t even recognize me
when I approached, and it took a long time to get
him to talk to me. When he did, it was like the

floodgates had opened.

“That perfect match turned out to be a perfect

nightmare. The dirtbag was emotionally and
physically abusing Kevin. I helped him get away
from the bastard, made sure he pressed charges
and followed through. The asshole only got
community hours and forced counseling for
destroying another man’s life.” Jacob smacked his
gloves against the dashboard hard enough to leave
a dent. “And it was all my fault!”

“No, it wasn’t, Jacob. You can’t think that.”

Brant reached across the console for Jacob’s hand
and gave it a squeeze, again wishing he wasn’t
driving so he could pull Jacob close, wrap his
arms around him, and just hold on. Jacob looked
over and flashed a fleeting but grateful smile.

“I have never, will never, forgive myself for

that,” Jacob continued. “I almost quit my business
before it was barely off the ground, but Violet
helped me get through it. Or forced me through it,
rather. You know how pushy Vi can be.”

“That I do.”

That brought another hint of a smile to

Jacob’s lips. “She made me see how much good
I’d been a part of, how happy she was with Adam,
and all the people I’d matched before Kevin, and
that I owed it to them and people like them to help.
‘You don’t throw away the bike because you fell
off and skinned your knees once,’ she said.

“I did take some time off before getting back

into it, but ever since then I make it a point to not
only thoroughly vet my clients through every
possible channel before accepting them, but also
spend one-on-one time with them to really learn
who they are.”

Brant said, “No matter how thoroughly you

vet a client, there are some things that just can’t be
found out. You know that, right? A lot of things
don’t even come up until it’s too late. Some people
are just too good at making us see only what they
want us to see, and it’s not by any fault of our own.
It wasn’t your fault, Jacob.”

Jacob didn’t appear appeased, but he didn’t

argue.

“Do you ever hear from Kevin?”
“Yeah, a couple years ago. He’s doing great.

He moved to Montreal and found himself the
perfect man for real this time. They’ve been
together for four years now, and Kevin’s still
walking on the moon. His words.” Jacob laughed.
“I was terrified he’d never be able to come back
from that horrible experience, but he tells me it
made him a stronger person. That while it was one
of the worst times in his life, it was one of the best
because of all the good that eventually came out of
it.”

“Funny how things have a way of working

out.”

“But I got him hurt.”
Brant took advantage of stopping at a red light

to look over at Jacob. “Hey.” He gave Jacob’s
hand another squeeze to get his attention. When he
had it, he said, “You didn’t get him hurt. His
dirtbag boyfriend did that all on his own. You
couldn’t have known.”

“I should have.”

“You’re not the all-knowing oracle, so stop

beating yourself up. The thing to focus on, the thing
that really matters? You set Kevin on a course that
changed his life for the better. Would he have
grown without that catalyst? Would he be where he
is now without that push?”

“Look at you, all Oprah and stuff.” Jacob

smiled a genuine smile that reflected in his
beautiful green-flecked eyes, and Brant suddenly
found himself lost in the man across from him. His
gaze zeroed in on Jacob’s mouth. God, he wanted
to kiss him so bad. Just one taste. Friends kissed
sometimes, didn’t they? Maybe not the way he
wanted to kiss Jacob just then, but that didn’t
register with the rising desire making every nerve
ending tingle. Just like the day after they’d gone
skating, when they stood in the sheltered doorway
of Jacob’s loft, that invisible but tangible force
between them pulled at Brant. He felt himself
leaning forward without instructing his body to do
so, and then Jacob’s smile faltered just before he
turned away. His soft voice was low and husky
when he said, “Green means go.”

“What?”
A horn honked behind them, and Brant

jumped. He dropped Jacob’s hand and placed both
of his firmly on the steering wheel. Right, the light
had changed, and he’d been holding up traffic
while daydreaming about kissing Jacob. Again. He
cleared his throat and pressed the gas pedal down.

An unsettled silence buzzed the air around

them for the remainder of the drive back
downtown. When they arrived, Brant pulled into a
parking spot near Jacob’s building and killed the
engine. He unbuckled his seat belt and turned to
face Jacob, but Jacob spoke first.

“Thank you for getting me out there today,

Brant,” Jacob said lightly, but the jovial tone of his
voice sounded forced. “I really did have a
fantastic day. And bonus! No trips to the ER.”

“Listen, Jacob…” he began and suddenly

didn’t know what to say next. Well, he knew what
he wanted to say, just not how to say it. He looked
over Jacob’s shoulder and watched people
walking back and forth on the sidewalk, going

about their days, hoping one of them would stop
and tell him what the right words were. “I’m not
sure I… This thing…”

Jacob reached out and placed a hand on his

shoulder and squeezed gently. “It’s okay. I think I
know what you’re trying to say.”

“I’m that transparent?”
Jacob shrugged and dropped his hand back to

his lap. “Maybe you’re not alone in what you’re
feeling.”

Brant’s brain shorted out for a second. He

thought—had hoped—Jacob felt the same, and
now that he knew for sure, he felt like he’d just
taken flight.

“I thought I could just be friends, but I can’t,”

Brant confessed. “I want you too much, and all I
can think about is what it would be like to kiss you
and how you’d taste and the feel of your skin
against mine and—”

“Stop,” Jacob ground out. His voice sounded

strained.

They sat in silence, neither looking at the

other, while life carried on around them.

Brant cleared his throat. He opened his mouth

to speak, but no words came, no thoughts formed in
his mind other than I want you.

“I think,” Jacob began softly, turning to face

Brant, “that it’s probably best if we don’t see each
other for now.”

Brant tore his gaze away and nodded while

that brief glimmer of hope screamed back to earth
and crashed in a blinding fiery ball. He couldn’t
look at Jacob and do this even though he knew
Jacob was right. It was what he’d tried to say.
They both had to be free, or there’d always be a
wall between them they could never climb. As
long as Jacob was committed to another man—
even though Brant got the impression that other
man might think the relationship was an open one,
judging by the way Christopher had hit on him at
the New Year’s party—nothing more could come
of them. He wanted to tell Jacob about Christopher
hitting on him, because he was pretty sure Jacob
didn’t know, and if he did, he wouldn’t stay with

the man. Brant hoped. But how could he say by the
way, your boyfriend hit on me without coming
across as emotional and manipulative? One side of
him wanted to drive a wedge between Jacob and
Christopher, but his rational side knew better. The
time wasn’t right for them, and no matter what
Brant did, he couldn’t force it to bend to his
desires. But God, it hurt knowing he had to let
Jacob go.

Jacob leaned over and kissed him chastely on

the cheek, then opened the car door and stepped
out. Cold air whooshed inside to replace the
warmth of the man who’d just left his life, and a
shiver scraped over his spine.

“Brant.”
He took a breath and turned to see Jacob’s

eyes were moist, and his smile small and sad.
Jacob nodded once and softly said, “Thank you
again for a wonderful day. Take care of yourself,
okay.”

Without waiting for a response, Jacob closed

the door and walked away.

Chapter Six

Present day

“White Christmas” drifted through the

department store speakers for the gazillionth time
as Jacob perused a collection of wares in hopes of
finding the perfect gift for the last and hardest-to-
shop-for person on his list: Violet. The closing
strains of Bing Crosby’s bass-baritone faded only
to be replaced by Michael Bublé’s rendition of “A
Holly Jolly Christmas.” Just a week to go, and then
they could lock all those groan-worthy classics
away until next year. Jacob loved the holidays and
all they entailed, but it was the music that needed a
complete remix to bring it into the current
millennium

Disappointed with the selection at yet another

store, Jacob wandered back out into the frenzied
fray of holiday shoppers running from store to
store like bees buzzing from clover to clover in

search of the sweetest nectar. He’d hoped by
getting in early on a weekday the crowds wouldn’t
be overly unbearable, but with only a handful of
shopping days left before the big day, it didn’t
seem to matter. He turned to make his way to the
next store and caught the flash of a familiar-
looking man entering a women’s boutique. His
pulse immediately kicked up a notch, and he
followed the man into the store, hoping it was who
he thought. He slipped behind a rack of designer
blouses as cover for his impromptu stakeout.

The man had a leather jacket draped over one

arm, and with his free hand, he sifted through a
collection of sheer and knit scarves in an array of
colors. He was as tall and broad-shouldered as
Jacob remembered, but the muscles that flexed and
bunched under the form-fitting dark blue Henley
seemed denser. The jeans fit a little loose, but
Jacob had no problem making out the enticing
curve of a firm butt hidden beneath. His hair was
shorter but still managed that windblown look, and
when he turned his head and smiled at the sales
clerk who’d stepped up to offer assistance with

stars in her eyes, Jacob’s breath caught in his
throat.

Jacob spun around so he was fully hidden and

took a moment to collect himself. It had been a
long time since he’d seen Brant Hudson up close—
five years in fact—and the man had grown even
more handsome with each one.

Jacob ran his hands through his hair,

straightened his jacket, shook out his arms, then
casually walked up to the scarf table. He reached
out and picked up a thick, rich purple-colored knit
scarf. “This color would look amazing with
Violet’s eyes, don’t you think?” he asked without
looking at the man beside him. He heard a sharp
intake of breath and felt a heavy gaze weigh on
him, and heat filled his cheeks until he couldn’t
contain his smile any longer. He put the scarf back
and looked up into the warmest, richest, most
beautiful brown eyes he’d ever seen. “Hi, Brant.”

“Jacob Cruz,” Brant whispered, the touch of

disbelief that laced his deep voice matched the
surprised expression on his face. A few extra

creases etched around the corners of his eyes;
laugh lines appeared a little deeper around his
mouth; a hint of silver highlighted his dark
sideburns, and altogether it made him the sexiest
man alive—in Jacob’s estimation.

“Come on,” Jacob said as he took hold of

Brant’s free hand and gave a little tug. “It looks
like you could use one of your gourmet hot
chocolates. My treat this time.”

Ten minutes later Jacob watched Brant over

the rim of his cup as he took a sip while Brant did
the same. They both smiled and put their cups
down at the same time.

“It’s good to—”
“What have you—”
Brant spoke over Jacob, which drew laughter

from both men.

“You go,” Jacob said.
They spent the next half hour catching up on

safe topics, such as business, family, and general
goings-on, and then Brant lowered his gaze and
fidgeted with his cup for a moment. Then with his

voice a notch quieter, he asked, “So…are you still
with Christopher?”

“No.”
“Finally,” Brant whispered, barely loud

enough for Jacob to make out the word, and when
he lifted his gaze to meet Jacob’s, light glittered in
its rich depths.

“Outside voice,” Jacob teased.
“Oh, God.” A deep red flush spread up

Brant’s neck and into his cheeks. “I’m so sorry.
That wasn’t…”

“Don’t worry,” Jacob reassured. “I think it’s

charming.” And he did, knowing that after all this
time Brant still got nervous and tongue-tied, just
like the night they’d met all those years ago,
warmed something inside him.

Brant snorted, and Jacob continued, “We split

up over six months ago.”

“Why didn’t you ever call me?” Brant said

and then winced. “Christ, I did it again. I’m sorry.”

“No, I’m sorry. At first I didn’t call because I

needed time on my own to find me again. I
intended to call you eventually, but time kept
marching along while I was busy finding myself. A
week turned into a month that turned into three
months, and next thing you know more than half a
year has gone by. Not to mention, after all these
years I was sure you’d be well and truly off the
market by now.”

Brant shook his head. “No one has compared

since meeting you.” The gaze he leveled on Jacob
packed so much heat it torched his insides, right
down to the marrow of his bones. And that, Jacob
thought, was why they never could have been just
friends. This thing between them had—and still, it
seemed—burned too hot to be anything less than
full and complete surrender. Five years ago Jacob
hadn’t been free to give that, but now…now there
wasn’t anything to hold him back. There was
nothing standing in the way of them letting this
simmering fire rage.

Brant leaned back in his chair and his gaze

freely roved over Jacob, leaving a trail of heat in

its wake. “God, you look good.”

“Thank you.” Jacob made a display of

preening at the compliment. “You’re looking good
enough to eat yourself.”

Electric air buzzed around them and made the

fine hairs on Jacob’s forearms stand on end. Brant
shifted in his seat, and knowing why, Jacob
mirrored the movement. Things were getting
uncomfortably snug in his jeans as Brant’s fervent
gaze ate him up and promised to fulfill Jacob’s
every desire. Just now, he had many, and they all
featured one Brant Hudson in the starring role.

“Let’s get out of here,” Brant said, and the

rough, seductive tone in his voice tickled over
Jacob’s skin like a feather.

“Yes,” Jacob said, hypnotized by everything

that was Brant Hudson. Then cold reality broke
through when Jacob glanced at his watch, and the
spell snapped. His shoulders slumped. “Except I
have an appointment with a new client in half an
hour and need to get back to my office.”

Brant groaned and squeezed his eyes shut.

“There’s always something.”

“Come to my company party this weekend.

We’re hosting a ritzy Christmas Eve shindig at the
Granville Island Hotel.”

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world.”
“Good.” Jacob stood, and Brant followed.

“Now walk out with me.”

Freezing rain pelted hard against Jacob’s

exposed cheeks. He flipped up the collar of his
jacket and sank into its protection.

“Did you walk?” Brant asked as he pulled a

scarf from his jacket pocket and wrapped it around
his neck.

“Of course, I’m a hearty Canuck,” Jacob

teased.

“A foolhardy one, more like,” Brant said.

“My car’s in the underground lot. Let me drive you
home.”

And because he couldn’t resist the perfect

opening, Jacob lowered his voice and added an
extra dose of sex to it when he said, “You can

drive me anytime you want, Mr. Romance.”

Brant groaned like he was in pain and then

said, “Oh God, Jacob.” He grabbed Jacob’s hand
and led him around the corner to the parkade
entrance. Before they could make it to Brant’s car,
Jacob yanked him behind a support beam and
pushed him back against it. He couldn’t wait
another second to do what he’d denied himself all
those years ago. Brant immediately wrapped his
arms around Jacob and pulled him closer so their
bodies pressed together from tip to toe. They fit
together perfectly. Jacob dug his fingers into
Brant’s hair, pulled his head down as he lifted up
slightly on his toes, and at the first touch of his
mouth to Brant’s, Jacob’s entire universe shifted.
Brant’s lips were warm and soft. He smelled like
leather and tasted like chocolate, and Jacob
thought briefly how wrong he’d been to stay on the
safe road when he should have been on the
winding one all along. This was the kiss he’d
dreamed about. This was the kiss that rocked his
world and made his knees weak and his head spin.
This was the man he should have been with all

along.

Right there, right then, Jacob knew there

would never be another man for him but Brant
Hudson.

Their tongues twined in a frantic, erotic

dance, and when Brant rocked his hips forward,
pressing his hard erection against Jacob’s, their
combined moans echoed in the cavernous space
around them.

When it finally came to a matter of breathing

or passing out, Jacob reluctantly broke the most
incredible kiss of his life. “I wanted to the do that
the moment I met you,” he said breathlessly.

“I wish you had.” Brant’s voice was equally

reedy.

“Time wasn’t right.”
“I think I might fall down now,” Brant panted

and then nipped at Jacob’s lower lip. “More,
please.”

“Hold that thought, gorgeous.” Jacob stepped

back and smiled at the low whimper of complaint
that rose from deep within Brant’s chest. “I think

I’d better stick to the cold-shower walk home after
all.”

“Not fair,” Brant said, still leaning up against

the support beam, his lips and cheeks flushed, his
hair now looking more hurricane-styled than
windblown, his chest rising and falling with rapid,
shallow breaths. “You need to come home with me
right now.”

The sight of a debauched Brant had Jacob

running through a roster of excuses he could use to
call his client and cancel the appointment, even
knowing it was already too late. He shook his head
and mentally cursed their timing. They shouldn’t
have started this when they couldn’t carry it
through, but he hadn’t exactly been thinking
clearly. Brant was a hard man to resist. “I’m sorry,
babe. Client waiting.”

Brant closed his eyes, and Jacob stepped up

to give him another slow kiss, careful to put the
brakes on and stop before they went careening off
the embankment again. He wanted nothing more
than to go home with Brant right now, to finally

experience all of him without reservation or
inhibition, but he had a business to run and people
waiting on him.

“I’m glad I ran into you today,” Brant said,

his eyes soft and smile warm, and once again,
Jacob ran possible scenarios to get out of his
meeting. But it had been five years; he could
handle a few more days before having nothing in
the way of them following this thing to wherever it
led.

“Me too. I’ll see you Saturday.”
Jacob was halfway home before he realized

he hadn’t finished his Christmas shopping. He
laughed out loud. The watch-out-for-the-crazy-
man-honey looks he received along the way only
made him laugh harder. Saturday was going to be
the best night of his life.

* * * *

The party was in full swing when Brant

arrived at His Perfect Match’s Christmas Eve
bash, still holding the thought Jacob had instructed

him to the other day in the parkade when they’d
parted ways. Even if Jacob hadn’t told him to,
there was no way Brant would ever forget that kiss
and the promises it held. He wanted more. A lot
more. That kiss had been five years in the making
and so worth the wait.

Electronic dance music spliced with classic

holiday choruses blared through the speakers as a
live DJ worked magic at the turntables. Strings of
white and red Christmas lights twined around tall
potted plants throughout the large dockside lounge,
and candles burned softly on bistro-style tables
that horseshoed a dance area. It was a semiformal
affair and every man looked like a character
straight out of a Bond movie. All the women were
elegantly attired in shimmering gowns in shades of
blue, red, or black, from full length to midthigh.
Brant accepted a glass of champagne from a
passing waiter and then made his way through the
crowd in search of Jacob.

His steps faltered to a stop when he found

him, and all he could do was stand there in awe.

Jacob stood in front of a bank of floor-to-ceiling
windows that overlooked False Creek, with the
city’s festive night lights twinkling behind him. He
wore sharply pressed black slacks with satin
piping down the leg. He’d removed his jacket at
some point to reveal a black suede vest, skinny
black tie, and a white silk dress shirt…with gold-
and-silver threading, and onyx buttons. The same
shirt Brant had given him all those years ago.

Something in Brant’s chest shifted, lifted, and

took flight while his throat tightened. Jacob had not
only kept the shirt but had worn it tonight, knowing
they would be seeing each other. Brant had spoken
the God’s honest truth when he’d told Jacob no
man would ever compare, and right there was one
of the many reasons why. Even if Jacob didn’t
realize it, he’d at least subconsciously made a
small but grand gesture that was sure to make
Brant happy. Which it did. The shirt looked
incredible against Jacob’s olive skin, but right
then, Brant wanted to strip it off and get his hands
all over that gorgeous body hiding underneath it.

Jacob’s attention was focused completely on

two men standing in front of him as he held one of
each man’s hands in his. The men kept sliding long
looks and secret smiles at each other as they spoke
with Jacob, and Jacob’s smile… God, it was a
thing of beauty. Brant could feel its warmth from
halfway across the room, and it shone brighter than
the lights on the harbor.

Yes, indeed, you have it bad, Hudson. “That I

do,” he said aloud.

Just then Jacob looked directly at Brant, and

their gazes locked. That incredible smile
broadened, if that was even possible, and then
Jacob turned his attention back to the two men and
said something that had them both turning to Brant.
They nodded and smiled. Heat spread up Brant’s
neck and into his cheeks, but he didn’t look away.
Jacob gave each man a solid hug and then crossed
the room to stand before Brant. His kohl-lined eyes
glittered with joy so pure and infectious Brant
knew true happiness would only come if he could
stare into them every day for the rest of his life.

“Hey, gorgeous,” Jacob said with a huskiness

in his soft voice that sent a shiver of anticipation
down Brant’s spine. “I’m glad you made it.”

“Of course,” Brant said as he reached out

with his free hand and brushed Jacob’s long bangs
aside. “I’m still holding that thought.”

Jacob’s eyes darkened as he took Brant’s

hand in his and said, “Let’s go out onto the patio.”

“Lead on.”
“You have to say hi to Violet first, or I’ll

never hear the end of it,” Jacob said and led Brant
to a table that looked out over the inlet where she
sat with Adam and another couple.

“Brant Hudson,” she said as she stood up and

smiled. “Now this is a beautiful sight.”

“You look lovely, Vi,” Brant said. And she

did. Her long blonde tresses were done up with
baby’s breath strategically laced through loose
curls that framed her face, and the full-length dark
purple sequined gown brought out the amazing blue
of her eyes. A pair of simple diamond earrings and
a teardrop necklace perfectly accented the

ensemble.

“Thank you, sweetheart,” she said. Brant

handed his glass of champagne to Jacob and then
pulled Violet in for a hug. “I can’t tell you how
happy I am to see you two together. Finally.”

“Me too,” he whispered in her ear.
“Can I have my man back now?” Jacob asked.

He passed off Brant’s champagne to Violet, who
frowned, and then he grabbed Brant’s hand. “We
were just going to step out for some fresh air.”

“Fine.” Violet huffed. “Go make out on the

patio. But when you’re done, I expect a dance with
the both of you.”

My man. A wave of giddiness lifted Brant as

he replayed Jacob’s words in his head. My man.
He loved the sound of that and laughed as Jacob
led him outside like the place was on fire. The last
five years slipped away, and it was as though just
yesterday they’d spent the day snowshoeing. He’d
seen Jacob at the occasional industry event over
the years, but he’d made a point of keeping his
distance. Too much boiled beneath the surface to

do more than catch a covert longing stare. But now
Brant could freely act on his impulses and desires
where one Jacob Cruz was concerned, and he
planned to make the most of every second they
spent together.

Temperatures had dropped the last couple of

days, and the freezing rain had given way to wet
snow. Vancouver was actually predicted to have a
white Christmas for a change this year. The patio
was empty even though the heat lamps were on to
fight the chill. The fire pit at the back of the deck
sat dark and quiet. Jacob stopped at the edge of the
covered area of the patio and beneath one of the
lamps. He turned to Brant, and with a sultry smile
and twinkle in his eyes, said, “So, this thought
you’ve been hol—”

Brant couldn’t wait for him to finish his

sentence, couldn’t wait a second longer to feel
Jacob again. He pulled Jacob flush against him and
claimed his mouth in a frantic, starved kiss. Jacob
gave back in equal measure. One hand cupped the
back of Jacob’s head, his fingers twining in the

long, silken threads of dark hair, while the other
slid down to cup a firm butt cheek. Jacob moaned
into his mouth as their tongues teased and danced,
and the sound sent sparks shooting through Brant’s
veins like a million tiny pinballs. Like the other
day in the parkade, his knees weakened, and he
melted into Jacob. His head started to feel light as
blood rushed south, and his pants tented as his
erection grew fast and hard.

“God, Jacob,” Brant panted. “Say we can

leave now.”

“We can leave now,” Jacob said with a

dreamy quality to his voice. “I have to go and say
good-bye first.”

“No, don’t go anywhere.” Brant nipped at

Jacob’s lower lip.

“Then how are we going to leave?” Jacob

whispered against Brant’s mouth as he kissed him
and rocked his rigid erection against Brant’s thigh.

“Sneak out through the back door,” Brant said

between kisses.

Jacob laughed, and then Brant caught a flash

of something small and dark scurrying across the
patio. He jumped back. “What the hell was that?”

“What?”
“I think I just saw a rat or something.”
“What? There’s no rats here.”
Just then the lounge doors swung open, and a

harried-looking young man in a rumpled suit
charged out. “Jacob! Have you seen Frankie? He
got out.”

“He what?”
“You’ve got to help me find him before he

gets in trouble. Please.”

“Of course,” Jacob said as he rolled his

shoulders back and brushed a hand through his
hair. With a distracted but grateful thank-you, the
man disappeared back inside to continue his
search.

Brant asked, “Who’s Frankie?”
“I think you may have just seen him.”
Brant’s eyebrows shot up, and his voice

cracked when he asked, “Frankie’s a rat?”

“No, he’s a ferret.”
“A ferret? Who the hell brings a ferret to a

Christmas party?”

“He has anxiety issues.”
“The ferret?”
Jacob laughed. “No, babe. Tom has anxiety

issues, and Frankie is like his security blanket. He
takes him wherever he can, and when things start
to overwhelm him, the little critter calms him
down.”

“That’s… I don’t know what that is.”
“Well, it works for Tom. Different strokes for

different folks and all, so let’s help him find his
little worry stone, and then we can get out of here.
Deal?”

Yes! Brant was all for getting out of there and

getting Jacob to his house, or rather, his bedroom.
The sooner, the better. “Deal.”

Jacob nodded emphatically and said, “Which

way did he go?”

They both set off in the last known direction

of Frankie the ferret and began looking behind
planters and under chairs, and then Brant noticed a
tiny set of clawed footprints in the fresh snow
leading toward the fire pit. The little creature
scuttled from the fire pit toward the edge of the
deck. “There he is!”

He took off after it with Jacob at his side, but

slick-soled dress shoes and icy snow didn’t mix
well. He slipped as he rounded the fire pit and
careened into an unforgiving ceramic planter, and
a sharp pain shot up his leg. Jacob slid past him,
unbalanced but still on his feet, and crouched
down beside the planter.

“Come here, little Frankie,” he said in a soft,

soothing voice. “Let’s get you out of the cold, eh.”

And like he’d waved a magic wand, Frankie

trotted out from behind the flower pot and right
into Jacob’s hands. Brant realized maybe it wasn’t
a magic wand at all, just Jacob’s way, because
like Frankie, Brant wouldn’t hesitate to do
anything Jacob asked of him. Jacob tucked Frankie
close to his chest and said, “There you are, little

guy.”

He looked over at Brant, and that beautiful,

happy smile wiped away every worry and fear and
pain Brant had ever experienced. That one
moment, that simple look, carried the world in it
and confirmed what Brant knew from the very first
time he met the man: he was hopelessly and
blissfully in love with Jacob Cruz.

“I think I’d prefer you stretched out on a

comfortable bed instead of in the snow.”

“Total agreement here.”
“Come on.” Jacob stood up, tucked Frankie

safely inside his vest, and then held out a hand to
help Brant up. The second Brant put weight down
on his right foot, pain flared, and he sucked in a
sharp lungful of air, as if holding his breath would
make it go away.

“Brant? What’s wrong?”
He tested his weight again and hissed. “I think

we may have to swing by the ER on the way
home.”

“There’s always something with us, isn’t

there?” Jacob wrapped his arm around Brant’s
waist and draped Brant’s arm over his shoulder so
he could help him hobble off the patio. “I’m
starting to think fate has it in for us.”

A blast of unease shot through Brant’s chest,

and he hoped Jacob chalked the slight whine in his
voice up to the pain of his foot. “What do you
mean?”

“Every time we’re together, something

happens that pushes us apart. Shirts get ruined,
bones get broken, people get hurt.”

“Maybe she’s just testing us, and all these

things are supposed to bring us closer together and
make us stronger.”

Jacob looked up with a smile so warm that

Brant’s flash of anxiety melted away as quickly as
snow in Vancouver did. He bumped his hip
playfully against Brant’s. “You’re such a
romantic.”

“They don’t call me Mr. Romance for

nothing.”

Even Frankie the ferret joined in the laughter

that followed them out of the cold.

Chapter Seven

“May I have this dance?” Jacob asked using

his best Southern belle voice and fluttering his
eyelashes for added effect. Brant laughed.

“I’d love to, but I’m not exactly fit for

dancing.” He motioned to his foot, encased in a
cast after their adventures in ferret wrangling the
previous week. Dr. Roberts had been on duty that
night, and it turned out Brant had more than a
sprain; he’d fractured two bones in his ankle. By
the time Brant had been triaged, X-rayed, patched
up, and sent home, seven hours had passed, and
they both were too exhausted for more than a good-
bye kiss.

In the week since the ferret incident, they’d

spoken on the phone, but their schedules had been
so jammed full—the holidays always an insanely
busy time for romance—they hadn’t been able to
find a quality chunk of time to spend together.

But tonight was the annual Romantic

Addiction New Year’s Eve party, and everyone
who was anyone in the romance industry was
there. The lighting was soft, the music inspiring,
and Brant looked incredible in his black leather
vest over an untucked white dress shirt—the
sleeves rolled up to midforearm and the top three
buttons undone to expose a hint of dark chest hair
that kept drawing Jacob’s attention—sleek black
designer jeans, and one suede loafer closing out
the rebelliously sexy ensemble. Couldn’t do much
about classing up the cast, but it didn’t matter. The
rest of the man was just too edible.

“You’re more than fit, baby,” Jacob purred.

“You’re gorgeous all over.” He held out his hand.
“Now, come dance with me. I’ll be your crutch,
and we’ll stick to the slow songs so we can
grope.”

Brant sighed. He wasn’t too sure about the

dancing business, but he would be a fool to pass
up any excuse to grope Jacob. He accepted
Jacob’s hand and said, “You’re a hard man to say
no to, Jacob.”

“Best you don’t be forgetting that anytime

soon.” Jacob winked.

Five songs and as much public groping as

they could get away with later, Jacob left Brant at
their table while he fetched a couple of cold drinks
to quench their thirst. On his way back, he noticed
a man sitting with Brant. He couldn’t see the man’s
face clearly from where he stood, but something
about that man made his hackles rise. Jacob moved
closer, and when he got a good look at the man’s
face, his blood turned to ice.

Brant looked up but seemed oblivious to the

fact that Jacob was seconds away from making
weapons of the glasses he held in his hands.

“Jacob. I’d like you to meet one of my clients,

Ter—”

“I know exactly who he is,” Jacob bit off, and

a pang of guilt tiptoed into his conscious at the
shocked expression on Brant’s face. The last thing
he ever wanted to do was hurt Brant in any way,
but the immediate and barely controllable anger at
seeing Terry Carnarvon again stamped it down

with so much force Jacob was certain the ground
shook under his feet.

“Mr. Matchmaker.” Terry smiled and rose

from his seat as he stuck his hand out. “It’s nice to
see you again.”

Jacob glared at the outstretched hand and then

back up at Terry. If the son of a bitch thought a
shake and a few pleasantries was going to change
anything, he was beyond delusional.

“Right.” Terry dropped his ignored hand back

to his side and cleared his throat, then turned to
Brant and said, “Happy New Year, Brant. I’m
looking forward to getting started next week.
Happy New Year to you too, Mr. Cruz,” Terry
said cordially as he walked by, but Jacob ignored
him.

When the man was well out of earshot and

line of vision, Jacob slammed the drinks down the
on the table and rounded his anger on Brant. “Are
you serious? Terry Carnarvon is your client?”

Brant stared up at him, confusion and

wariness clear in his dark eyes and uncertainty in

his voice when he said, “Yes, but—”

“Do you have any idea who he is?”
Brant stood up and leaned against the table

for balance instead of using his crutch. “Other than
a man trying everything he can to save his
relationship with someone he loves? What more
do I need to know?”

“What you need to know, Brant,” Jacob

snapped, and Brant recoiled, taking an unsteady
step back. Again guilt and reason attempted to
scratch through the haze of anger welling inside
Jacob. He managed to check his tone—just—when
he continued, “is that Terry is the abusive son of a
bitch who almost ruined one of my first clients,
Kevin Hale. Do you remember me telling you that
story the day we went snowshoeing?”

Brant stared back blankly for a second, and

then recollection rose in his eyes as the color
drained from his face.

“Yes, I see by the sudden deathly pallor that

y o u do remember. How could you represent
someone like that?”

“I didn’t know. How could I?”
Jacob’s eyebrows shot up. “That’s pretty

simple. It’s called a background check. Ever hear
of it?”

“Don’t get snarky with me, Jacob. I’m not the

bad guy here.”

“No, but you’re representing one.”
“People can change. That happened a long

time ago. You said yourself that he did community
service and went through counseling. Don’t you
think he could have changed?”

“Tigers don’t change their stripes!”
“But people can!”
“So you’re defending him, after knowing who

he is and what he’s done?”

“No, I’m not defending him. I’m just saying

that it’s possible for people to change, in general,
and everyone deserves a second chance.”

“Does a serial killer deserve a second

chance?”

That left Brant speechless for a second; then

he quietly said, “I think you’re taking this too far.”

But Jacob was too wound up to back down.

He needed Brant to understand the risk he took if
he represented Terry. Personal issues aside.
“Really? Running a basic background check on
your potential clients is taking it too far? Making
sure you’re not setting someone up to get hurt is
taking it too far? Because if you had done that, you
would have known about Terry’s history. I know
for a fact he has a record with at least one charge
for assault. Probably more than by now. Would
you have accepted him if you’d checked?”

“Probably not.”
Jacob’s voice rose. “Probably?”
“It depends on the circumstances. If it was a

one-time thing years ago and he paid his
retribution, then I believe he deserves a chance.”

“What if this guy hurts someone again, and

you facilitated it by not making sure the guy was on
the up and up? Or worse, knew his past but gave
him an opportunity anyway. That would be all on
your shoulders. You’ll never shake that.”

Brant was quiet for a long time, and then an

understanding reflected in his expression that made
Jacob grind his teeth.

“This isn’t about me at all, is it?” Brant said,

soft and careful, like he was speaking to someone
standing on the ledge of a high-rise, seconds from
jumping. “This is about the weight on your
shoulders that you still haven’t let go of.”

Somewhere in the back of his mind, Jacob

knew Brant was right. He needed to let go of his
guilt for what had happened between Kevin and
Terry all those years ago. He thought he had, until
just now. He agreed sometimes people did change
and they did deserve second chances. But not
Terry Carnarvon. And if Brant was going to give a
second chance to Terry, knowing full well the
man’s history and Jacob’s feelings on the matter,
then maybe fate really did have it right to keep
intervening.

Brant reached out, took Jacob’s hand in his,

and laced their fingers together. Suddenly the fight
died, and he felt so tired. “What you want isn’t

always what you need,” Jacob mumbled. His
throat tightened, threatened to cut off his air
supply, and the backs of his eyes burned. He
slipped his hand out from Brant’s.

“Jacob?”
“I need to go,” Jacob said. His voice sounded

distant to his own ears.

“Jacob, don’t. We can’t leave things like

this.”

“I just need some fresh air.” Without waiting

for a response, Jacob turned and walked out of the
ballroom.

Chapter Eight

Jacob intended on stopping in a quiet corner

of the hotel lobby but instead kept walking until he
was out of the building and halfway down the
street. Maybe he’d keep on going until he walked
right out of town. But the snow was coming down
in thick, heavy flakes, and he’d left his jacket
inside. He turned back for the hotel but stayed
outside on the sidewalk under the overhang and
crossed his arms over his chest, tucking his hands
into his armpits.

“You’re an idiot.”
He didn’t startle at the voice behind him, nor

did he take offense at the sentiment when it was
delivered with a note of resigned affection. He
was only surprised he’d been standing outside
freezing his butt off for longer than he’d expected.
She’d never been good at holding back when she
had something to say.

“Love you too, Violet.”

“Shut up.” She stepped beside him and

shoved his jacket at him. “Put this on before you
get pneumonia.”

“I take it you had a nice, long conversation

with Brant and heard all about how I lost my
cool.” He slipped into his jacket and zipped up,
not realizing just how cold he’d been until then as
he balled his hands inside the fleece-lined pockets.

“Lost your cool and took it out on him.”
“Did he tell you to come after me?”
“Hell no. You know better than that. The both

of you know I’m going to get in the middle of
anything I catch a whiff of.”

“Isn’t that the truth.”
“Watch it, mister. I’m here to save the day.

See my white cowboy hat?”

Jacob slid a glance Violet’s way and couldn’t

help the laughter that broke free. “Where the hell
did you find that?”

“Sweetheart, there isn’t anything this hotel

can’t get you…at the drop of a hat.”

Jacob groaned and rolled his eyes. “That was

lame.”

“Yeah, well, made you smile, didn’t I?”
“Kudos.”
“Now. Let’s you and me get a few things

straightened out here so I can get back inside
before my tits freeze off.”

“So eloquent, Vi.”
“That’s the beauty of our friendship, Jakey.

We can be ourselves and let it all hang out.”

Jacob pulled a hand from his pocket and held

it up. “Please don’t hang out anything that has the
potential to permanently scorch my retinas.”

“Listen up, buttercup. That man you left back

there—who looks like someone just killed his
puppy, by the way—is the best man you are ever
going to meet in your life. That man would do
anything for you, but you have to meet him
halfway.”

“You know how I feel about any kind of

violence, especially domestic, and most especially

about that prick, Terry.”

“Yes, I do, and so does Brant. The amazing

thing about him is his crazy capacity for
compassion. You have that compassion too, Jacob.
It’s one of the many things that make you two such
a good fit. The problem here, though, is that you’re
letting something you had no control over destroy
the things you do.”

“He defended Terry!”
“Ah, I get it now.” Violet’s voice softened.

She stepped in front of him and cupped his face,
waiting until he gave in and made eye contact
before she spoke. “Honey, do you really think he’s
going to represent Terry now? Knowing who he is
and what he’s done?”

“Well, he was going on about people

changing and second chances and—” Jacob’s
shoulders slumped, and he dropped his chin to his
chest with a heavy sigh. “In general. And all I
could think was that he was going to represent
Terry anyway and went off on him.”

Violet smiled. “There you go.”

“I am an idiot.”
“Yes, but you’re an adorable one.” She

tucked her hand through his elbow. “Come on,
sweetheart. Let’s get back inside. You need to talk
to Brant.”

* * * *

Brant’s left leg bounced a mile a minute as he

stared at the entrance to the ballroom waiting,
praying, that Jacob came back soon. He glanced at
his watch, again, and a sinking feeling began to
settle into the pit of his stomach. Jacob wasn’t
coming back. He replayed the argument in his head
to see where he’d gone so wrong and groaned
aloud when he realized what he’d done. Instead of
appeasing Jacob right off and telling him he
wouldn’t represent Terry, he went off into
hypothetical what-ifs. Jacob had been fixated on
one thing, Terry and his history with the man, and
that had colored the entire argument.

“Hey.” Brant jumped at the voice and turned

to see Adam smiling warmly at him, a beer in one
hand and a glass of champagne in the other. “You

look like you could use a drink and”—he raised
his hands—“I have options.”

Brant mustered up a smile in return. “Thank

you, that’s very kind of you, but I—” The sight of
Jacob returning to the ballroom with Violet on his
tail…wearing a cowboy hat? Brant shook his head.
What mattered was the man walking toward him
looking both sheepish and determined, and he
forgot what he’d been saying to Adam.

Adam followed Brant’s gaze and said, “Ah, I

see. If Jacob does even half for you what Violet
does for me, I understand the midsentence
derailment.”

“Sorry,” Brant said, unable to take his eyes

off Jacob.

“Nothing to be sorry for. It looks like Violet

accomplished her mission, so I’ll wish you a
Happy New Year now. I have a feeling we won’t
be seeing you two at the strike of twelve.”

Belatedly Brant returned the sentiment, but

Adam had already reached Violet, and the two
disappeared into the crowd. He stood up as Jacob

approached, but Jacob stopped a couple of feet
away, as if unsure how much closer he should
come.

He spoke so softly Brant almost couldn’t hear

him when he said, “I’m sorry I lost it and flipped
out on you.”

“No, I’m sorry I started getting all

philosophical when I should have stuck to the real
issue. I’m not going to represent him. First thing
Monday morning I’m refunding his deposit.” Brant
took a step closer.

Jacob shook his head. “I can’t tell you how to

run your business or who you can or can’t accept
as clients, Brant. Maybe he has changed, but it will
be a long time before I’ll believe it. If ever.”

“I know, and you’re right. What if he hasn’t?

That would eat at me too, but you know you need
to let this anger go, right?”

Jacob nodded. “I thought I had.”
“But I care far more about making you happy

than giving Terry another chance. That’s why I’m
not going to take him on.”

Brant took another step that brought him close

enough to brush the bangs off Jacob’s forehead. If
he could take that pain and guilt from Jacob and
carry it for him, he’d do it in a heartbeat, just to
make sure that brilliant smile never faded. “Do you
think we can get back to where we were before he
showed up?”

“Do you think Old Lady Fate is done with us

now? Because I really just want to be with you
without anything getting between us again.”

Relief slammed into Brant with so much

force, he had to reach out and wrap his arms
around Jacob for fear he’d fall. But then, he
already had, metaphorically speaking. “I’ve
waited five years for you. Longer, actually. I’ve
been waiting my whole life for you, and there is no
way I’m going to let that old broad mess with us
for even a second longer.”

Jacob sighed and nuzzled his nose into

Brant’s neck.

“Brant…” He pulled Brant’s head down, and

when their lips met, butterflies took flight in his

stomach. Just like the first time he’d seen Jacob.
Like the first time they’d kissed. He opened his
mouth, and Jacob’s tongue slipped in and wrapped
around his. He knew that this time nothing would
ever come between them again.

“Ahem.”
Except for Violet Walsh.
Brant dropped his forehead to Jacob’s and

growled.

“Down, Cujo,” she teased, and held out a

Hotel Vancouver card key. “I bring gifts.”

“What’s this?” Jacob asked.
“The key to our room. Adam and I decided

we’d like to start the New Year off in our own bed
this year, so we want you to take it.”

“We can’t take your room, Vi.”
Light sparkled in her blue eyes as she smiled

and shoved the card into Jacob’s chest pocket. “By
the looks of things, you two will be lucky to make
it out of the ballroom, let alone get all the way
home.”

“She’s got a point,” Brant said. As much as

he wanted to get Jacob home and in his bed, he’d
take him anywhere right now would work. Jacob
must have been thinking the same thing, because he
reached behind and grabbed Brant’s crutch, then
leaned over and kissed Violet’s cheek.

Jacob said in a rush, “Happy New Year,

honey.”

“Same to you, sweetheart. Both of you.”

Chapter Nine

Less than two minutes later, they crashed into

the elevator as Jacob pounced on Brant. His back
slammed against the wall, and his crutch fell to the
floor unnoticed. Jacob captured his mouth in a
demanding kiss. One hand tangled in Brant’s hair
while the other smacked blindly against the panel
of buttons.

Brant cracked an eye open and mumbled into

Jacob’s mouth, “Shit.”

“What?”
“You just hit three floors.” Brant tugged at the

bottom of Jacob’s shirt, needing to feel the hot skin
beneath.

“Shit.”
“Like I said.” Brant pulled at Jacob’s lower

lip with his teeth, then released it and kissed the
corner of his mouth.

“Hopefully ours is the first one.”
“Second.” He kissed the other side of Jacob’s

mouth.

Jacob groaned. “Hopefully no one else gets

on.”

The elevator bell dinged, and Jacob

reluctantly broke away and fell against the wall
beside Brant, their chests heaving in unison. Brant
felt like he’d been holding his breath when the
doors slid closed and no one had entered the car.
As the lift began to move again, Brant turned to
Jacob, slid a hand behind his neck, and pulled him
into another mind-melting kiss. Jacob slid his
hands under Brant’s shirt, and hot palms spread out
over his abdomen and burned into his skin.

“Gotta see,” Jacob rasped and then began

unbuttoning the shirt. When he undid the last
button, he pushed the material aside, and his
hungry, intense gaze zeroed in on Brant’s chest. A
tremor of excitement shook Brant.

“Gorgeous,” Jacob whispered reverently;

then

he

leaned

forward

and

placed

an

openmouthed kiss on Brant’s left pectoral, right
above his nipple.

“Jacob…”
The elevator lurched to a stop at their floor,

and Jacob tugged at the nipple with his teeth and
then let go with a quick kiss.

“Hurry,” he said as he reached for Brant’s

crutch, and they tumbled out into the hallway like a
couple of drunkards. He slipped an arm around
Brant’s waist instead of giving him the crutch and
said, “This way.”

Jacob fumbled with the key card when they

reached their room, dropping it twice. Brant would
have helped, but he knew he wouldn’t have any
better luck. His whole body shook with adrenaline
and need. Finally the light flashed green, and Jacob
pushed the door open. The room was large and
well-appointed with modern furniture in warm,
earth tones, but all Brant could see was the
massive king-size bed in the middle of it. With
Jacob still tucked under his arm, he steered them
straight for it. Jacob ducked out and pushed Brant
down on the bed, but instead of climbing on with
him, he walked around the room looking behind

curtains and doors, under the table and bed, and
then disappeared into bathroom.

“What are you doing, Jacob?”
“Making sure Old Lady Fate hasn’t left any

booby traps for us.”

Brant laughed. “Come here, babe. I told you

I’m not letting her mess with us again.”

“You can’t control fate.”
“Maybe not, but I can control how I let it

affect me. Us.”

Jacob stopped his recon and turned to face

Brant, arms akimbo, shirttails hanging haphazardly
where Brant had tugged at his clothing when he’d
desperately tried to undress the man one-handed in
a ritzy hotel elevator. Jacob’s hair was beautifully
mussed, his lips plump and flushed from their
fevered kisses on the ride up. Brant’s gaze
traveled the full length of Jacob, and he licked his
lips when he fixed on the tenting bulge in the front
of Jacob’s slacks. When he looked back up to meet
Jacob’s eyes, they burned a bright golden green. A
bloom of heat spread out from Brant’s chest to his

belly and then into his own heavy erection.

Jacob lifted the corners of his mouth into a

mischievous grin. With deliberate slowness, he
slipped off his vest and let it fall to the floor
without care. Eyes locked on Brant’s, he undid the
buttons of the silk shirt Brant had given him five
years ago, one-by-painstakingly-slow-one. Then he
rolled it off his shoulders, not noticing that a piece
of the material was still trapped in the waistband
of his pants, making it hang like a sash at his hip. If
it had been red, Brant would have played the
charging bull and tackled him, but right now, he
was enjoying this sexy striptease too much to even
blink.

He swallowed hard when Jacob ran one hand

over his bare, defined chest and lowered the other
to his belt buckle, making a statement out of
snapping it open. The hiss of the belt sliding
through the loops echoed in the large room,
followed by a dull thud as it joined the rest of
Jacob’s discarded clothing on the floor. Brant
shifted himself up farther on the bed and slid out of

his own shirt. Jacob’s hand froze over the snap of
his pants as he watched, looking as mesmerized as
Brant felt. Brant slid his hand down his chest, the
same way Jacob had, and smiled, knowing he was
doing to Jacob what Jacob was doing to him.

Brant continued until he reached his jeans,

popped the button, and leisurely pulled the zipper
down. The catch cleared each tooth with an
audible click. Then he paused and waited for
Jacob to lift his gaze from where it had been
fixated. When he did, Brant raised an eyebrow in
question. Jacob’s smile widened, and he mimicked
Brant’s move. But he didn’t pause when the fly of
his pants was fully open. Instead he tucked his
thumbs under the band, pushed them down until
they rumpled around his ankles, and shot Brant a
challenging stare.

Not one to back down, Brant took it to the

next level and raised his hips to push both his
jeans and his underwear down, and kept going
until he kicked them off onto the floor. Then he
leaned back on his elbows and let his legs fall

open, putting himself on display for the only man
he would move heaven and earth for.

Jacob took a long, visual tour, and Brant

heard his throat click as he swallowed, followed
by a low keening that went straight to his now
painfully hard dick. He pressed the palm of his
hand against the base of it in search of a little
relief, and his eyelids fluttered.

Jacob gasped then, and as if poked by an

electrical cattle prod, he made quick work of
losing his underwear before launching himself onto
the bed. He crawled over Brant and leaned down
to take his mouth in a punishing, passionate kiss.

And Brant surrendered.
He ran his hands along the sides of Jacob’s

rib cage, the skin smooth, hairless, and hot to his
touch. He moved his hands lower until he cupped
both of Jacob’s butt cheeks and then pulled Jacob
down until all his weight rested on Brant. The full
length of Jacob’s lean, firm body seared every inch
of his skin, and fire ignited where their erections
slid together.

His breath came in fast, short bursts. The

frantic pounding of his heart drowned out
everything beyond him and the beautiful man in his
arms.

Jacob twisted his fingers in the fine hairs that

covered Brant’s chest as he kissed and nipped and
licked his way right down the middle of Brant’s
abdomen and then into the creases of his inner
thighs. Brant twined his fingers in Jacob’s long,
silky locks and rocked his hips up in a silent plea
for more, because oh God, he needed so much
more. He needed to feel Jacob everywhere on him,
in him, around him. He needed everything Jacob
was willing to give him, and he needed to lose
himself in it all. Jacob took the cue and sucked one
ball into his mouth while he cupped and squeezed
the other with his hand, and sparks shot in every
direction.

“Oh God, Jacob…”
Then he let go and cupped both balls in the

palm of his hand, lifting and squeezing as he kissed
and sucked at the base of Brant’s cock. A growl

grated over his vocal cords, and then Jacob took
the full length of him inside his mouth in one heart-
stopping go that reduced Brant’s vocabulary to
single-vowel sentences. “Ho… Lee… Gah…”

Jacob held Brant’s hips as he bobbed and

sucked, and just like that Brant was seconds from
shooting. Too soon, too soon.

“Stop…gonna…gotta…stop.”
Jacob looked up at him, his eyes glittering

with unfettered passion beneath a veil of dark,
silky locks, and made a point of making his retreat
a long, slow, powerful suck. Then he released
Brant with a forceful pop. Brant’s eyes rolled into
the back of his head, and he lay there panting like
he’d just run a marathon. And they’d barely
started. He’d need a week to recover at this rate.

“Please say you have supplies.” The rough

edge of Jacob’s voice was the sexiest thing Brant
had ever heard. Then he sucked in a sharp breath
when Jacob’s long fingers wrapped around his
cock and caressed its length—up and down, up and
down. “I can’t wait to ride this.”

“Oh, God.” Yes! But there was a question in

there that took Brant a minute to filter out from his
edge-of-orgasm haze and grasp. “Supplies?”
Another loving slide of that warm hand up and
down his length triggered his memory. “Oh!
Supplies.”

“Is that a yes?”
“Uh, no.”
Jacob dropped his head on Brant’s stomach

and sighed dramatically.

“I’ll beat the Old Lady up. I promise,” Brant

said, hoping to head off another round of Jacob’s
“fate is against us” rants.

Instead Jacob laughed, low and husky, and

reached for the phone. He stared at Brant as he
spoke. “Hi, can you send up a box of condoms and
bottle of lube to room seven-twenty, please? And
charge it to Violet Walsh.” Jacob furrowed his
eyebrows, and then he said, “No, nothing flavored,
thanks.”

It took three tries for him to get the phone

properly back in its cradle. He rested his chin on

Brant’s stomach while he gently fingered his hair,
smiling like the damn Cheshire cat.

“I can’t believe you just did that.”
Jacob shrugged, that adorably mischievous

grin spread across his face again. “She said there
wasn’t anything this hotel couldn’t get for you.”

Less than ten minutes passed before there was

a knock at their door, and while Brant wasn’t
thrilled with the pause in their lovemaking, he
needed the reprieve to get himself back under
some semblance of control. He’d waited for—
fantasized and dreamed of—this night for so long,
he didn’t want it to be over after just two quick
strokes.

Jacob hooted and then sprung from the bed.

He grabbed a robe from the back of the door and
barely wrapped it around himself before he swung
it open.

“Thank you, honey.” Jacob snatched the box

and

bottle

from

the

blushing

concierge.

Distractedly he said, “Happy New Year;” then he
charged back and jumped onto the bed as the door

closed on its own with a soft snick. Straddling
Brant, he ripped off the robe and tossed it aside,
then hastily tore open the box of condoms and sent
them scattering all over the bed and Brant’s
stomach.

“You’re like a kid on Christmas morning.”

Brant laughed as he snatched a packet from his
navel and flicked it at Jacob’s chest.

Jacob flashed a lewd smile and waggled his

eyebrows. “And you’re my present, baby.” He
grabbed a condom, tore the top off, and then leaned
forward and stuck the corner of the packet between
Brant’s teeth. “Be a dear and hold that for me, will
you?”

Keeping his gaze locked on Brant, he dug the

bottle of lube out from under the pile of condoms
and poured a healthy amount into his hand. Cold
drops splashed on Brant’s oversensitized skin, and
he hissed around the foil in his mouth. Jacob
smiled as he reached around to ready himself, and
Brant stared in awe as long lashes fluttered over
eyes that had darkened yet somehow seemed

brighter. Jacob moaned, fighting to keep his eyes
open, and Brant caressed Jacob’s thighs. He had to
break the intense stare because he had to watch his
hand close around Jacob’s beautiful cock. Amazed
again by the perfect contrast of their skin.

Jacob rocked back onto his fingers and

forward into Brant’s hand, and then he dropped
down on one arm to hover over Brant. He plucked
the packet from Brant’s teeth and took his mouth in
a long, languid kiss, while at the same time rolling
the condom over Brant’s length with hot, slippery
fingers. Brant squeezed his eyes shut and tried to
focus on one thing at a time, but too many
sensations raced around inside his body, over his
skin, in his heart and his mind. Everywhere Jacob
touched him sent a fresh zing of anticipation and
desire bouncing in all directions until he thought he
might explode from the glorious chaos of it. But he
didn’t want it to stop.

“Ready, gorgeous?” Jacob rasped against his

mouth.

“God, yes.”

Gazes locked, Jacob took Brant in hand and

slowly lowered himself. The second the head of
Brant’s cock breached Jacob’s tight muscles, he
knew he wasn’t going to last long after all. They’d
just have to do this again and again until they could
draw it out for hours.

Jacob closed his eyes. His head fell back,

lips parted, and the skin around his neck flushed as
he slid steadily down until Brant was fully seated
inside, and Jacob’s heavy balls rested against his
lower abdomen. Jacob began to move, and Brant
closed his eyes as the whole world narrowed to
the tight, slick heat that gripped and caressed and
burned around him.

“God, Brant,” Jacob whispered. “You feel

incredible inside me.”

“Jacob…” Brant pulled him close and

crushed their mouths together, rocking up into his
perfect body as Jacob slammed down and met each
thrust with equal passion.

“Harder.” Jacob panted against his mouth.

“Harder.”

Brant rolled them over and, after adjusting his

injured leg in a comfortable position, pulled
Jacob’s legs up over his shoulders, then drove his
cock hard into Jacob’s ass and his tongue into
Jacob’s mouth. Jacob groaned long and low and
dug his fingers into Brant’s ass cheeks so hard
Brant knew he’d bear the marks for days. Exactly
what he’d wanted. Brant knew he’d hit the right
spot when Jacob broke their kiss and shouted,
“Hell yeah! Right there, right there!” Brant
dropped his head to bite into the hard muscle
between Jacob’s neck and shoulder, which elicited
another squeal of pleasure. Together they settled
into a powerful, unrelenting rhythm. The harsh rasp
of breath, solid slap of skin against skin, and the
grunts and groans of their pleasure, combined to
create the most incandescent symphony to ever
play over Brant’s eardrums. If this was what
making love to Jacob Cruz was like, then he knew
every day of their lives would be filled with the
sweetest, most passionate music only they could
compose. The kind of music that needed to be
made daily, Brant thought.

“God, Jacob,” Brant rasped between kisses

and thrusts, his throat dry and his voice hoarse. “I
love you so much.”

Jacob’s voice was ragged as he said, “I love

you too.”

Four little words, but which together, and

from the only person in the world who mattered,
changed everything and sent Brant careening out of
control over the edge. Their steady beat increased
in tempo and rose to an inevitable crescendo Brant
knew would ring in his ears longer after the
closing notes faded. And just like that final,
bombastic explosion of sound, Brant exploded
inside Jacob. The roar of the crowd continued,
bright, colorful lights flashed, and for a moment,
Brant couldn’t make sense of it until Jacob started
to laugh beneath him.

“The clock just struck twelve,” Jacob said

breathlessly. “Happy New Year, baby.”

Brant listened closer. The sounds of party

revelers ringing in the new year echoed throughout
the hotel and the city streets below, while

fireworks exploded over the harbor. “Best New
Year’s ever.”

“I think I missed my New Year’s kiss,” Jacob

said with a playful tone in his voice, and then
looked up at Brant with the biggest puppy-dog eyes
he’d ever seen and pouted.

“I think you just got a whole lot more than a

kiss, sweetheart.” But he kissed Jacob anyway
because there was no way he couldn’t. Then he
rolled over, chucked the condom somewhere in the
vicinity of the garbage can, and pulled Jacob up
under his arm. Jacob rested his head on Brant’s
chest and sighed contentedly.

“I have a feeling you’ve just made the best

match of your career, Mr. Matchmaker.” Brant
kissed the top of Jacob’s head, then shoved a few
condom packets aside and pulled the blankets up
over their cooling bodies. “This is definitely one
for the books.”

“Mmm…” The soft, dreamlike quality of

Jacob’s voice signaled he was about to drift off. “I
think I’d have to agree with you, Mr. Romance.”

Chapter Ten

One year later

Fresh snow had fallen overnight and given

way to clear, crisp blue skies by morning. Cool
blues and bright whites sparkled and glittered
where the sun’s rays pierced through ice-laden
treetops and dappled the smooth, undisturbed
surface. Whitecapped rocks formed abstract
patterns in the narrow creek that gurgled and
wound its way through the trees and across an
open field. The world felt so still and silent in
repose, yet so vibrant and full of promise.

Jacob leaned against the windowsill and

smiled. He couldn’t have asked for a more perfect
morning to embark on a new beginning in his life.

“You know I thought you were crazy to do

this today,” Violet said as she entered the room
and came to stand beside him. “But now that I see
this…”

He slid an arm around her waist, and she

leaned into him. “It’s perfect, isn’t it.”

She nodded and after a long moment said,

“Now would be a good time to tell me.”

“Tell you what?”
“You know.” She slanted a dare-to-defy-me

look at him.

Jacob smiled. He knew what she was after,

and he’d avoided saying it all these years, so what
did a few more minutes matter? “I think it should
be pretty obvious by now.”

“Say it, Cruz.”
“Okay, fine. You were right all along, Vi.

Brant is my one and only.”

“And?”
“And I should have listened to you from the

very beginning.”

“There. That wasn’t so hard, was it?”
He laughed and then pulled her into a hug.

“Thank you, Violet. I’m glad you introduced us,
and I can’t even begin to tell you how happy I am

that we’re here today.”

“You don’t have to tell me, sweetheart. I can

see it all over your face.”

“Jacob, darling.” His mom peeked her head

into the room. “It’s time.”

Butterflies fluttered with excitement in his

stomach, and a smile that wouldn’t quit overtook
his face. He danced on his toes and shook out his
hands before taking a deep breath. “Oh my God, I
can’t stop smiling. This is really happening!”

Violet adjusted the single white rose in the

lapel of his black tuxedo and then pressed both her
hands to his chest. “Ready?”

He kissed Violet’s cheek before she left the

room, stopping to give his mom a hug, and then he
turned to his mom and held his arm out.

“So handsome, Jacob.” She smiled up at him,

and her warm brown eyes shone brightly as she
tucked her hand over his elbow. “I’m so proud of
you.”

“Don’t cry yet, Mom. Gotta save some for the

big moment.”

She shook her head and dabbed at her eyes

with a handkerchief she pulled from inside her
sleeve. “I’m just so happy for you, sweetheart. So
happy for the both of you.”

Jacob’s throat tightened and he fought back

his tears. His voice cracked when he said, “Me
too.”

Arm in arm, they walked down the stairs,

through the home festively decorated for the party
that would begin shortly, and outside into a
brilliant New Year’s Eve day. They followed
brick steps clear of snow and lined with rose
petals until they reached the edge of a wide row of
chairs underneath a white tent. Every chair was
filled, and every face that met his shone bright with
joy for this special day.

Jacob looked to the other side of the tent. His

heart swelled so fast he thought it might burst right
out of his chest.

Flanked by his mother and father stood the

love of his life, Brant Hudson, looking as ruggedly
elegant in a matching tuxedo as he did the first

night Jacob met him. Six years ago to the day, on
New Year’s Eve.

The first strains of a familiar classical piece

filled the air, and Jacob began to walk, grateful
that his mom held his arm to guide him, because he
couldn’t take his eyes off Brant for even a second.
Brant was a mirror image, his gaze not wavering
from Jacob, and his smile wide and warm. They
met at the front of the tent where they faced each
other beside a flowered archway at the edge of the
creek. Jacob looked away long enough to give his
mom a hug and kiss, while Brant did the same with
his parents, and then it was just them and the
minister.

The older gentleman cleared his throat.

“Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today…”

Loose Id Titles by L.C. Chase

Long Tall Drink

Riding with Heaven

* * * *

The LOVE BROKERS Series

Mister Romance

L.C. Chase

Artist by day, author by night, L.C. Chase is a

hopeless romantic and adventure seeker. After a
decade of road tripping on three continents, she
now calls the Canadian West Coast home. When
not writing tales of beautiful men falling love, L.C.
can be found designing book covers of said
beautiful men, reading, drawing, running the trails
with her goofy four-legged buddy who, if he were
human, would be a standup comedian, and giving
in to fighting her root beer addiction.

Here are some links for L.C.:
Main Web site:

http://lcchase.com

Blog:

http://lcchase.blogspot.com

Twitter:

http://twitter.com/lc_chase

Table of Contents

Dedication
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Loose Id Titles by L.C. Chase
L.C. Chase