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The Shape of a Heart
Copyright © February 2012 by Kimberly Gardner
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eISBN 978-1-61118-724-3
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Kimberly Gardner

| The Shape Of A Heart

Chapter One

Icy winter wind swirled dry leaves around Zach Jensen’s feet as the first fat

snowflakes drifted down from the bleak February sky. Shrugging deeper into his jacket,

Zach pushed open the door of Bean Readin’, the bookstore/coffee bar he’d owned for

the past twelve years. He could still remember when the time and effort he and Jay had

put into the place had been more love than labor. But those days were gone. Jay was

gone, and now it was just him.

After closing the door against the cold, he paused and inhaled the rich aroma of

coffee mingled with the scents of ink and paper and glue, the smell of books, a smell

he’d come to love and loathe in equal measure.

He looked around at everything that was so familiar. Part of him still expected Jay

to come walking out of the back of the store or to appear from around the end of the

biography section. His lips parted, Jay’s name on the tip of his tongue when the

realization, and with it the grief, hit him like a freight train. He gasped and, closing his

eyes, gripped the edge of the front counter to keep from staggering under its force.

How was it even now, two years after Jay’s death, the memories could still hit so

hard and so unexpectedly, triggered by something as familiar as the scent of good

French roast? Wasn’t grief supposed to become easier to bear with time?

He didn’t know.

“Are you okay?” A strong hand gripped Zach’s arm, steadying him. A quiet voice,

filled with concern, spoke next to his ear.

Before he had time to think, Zach reached out and gripped the hand. “Jay?”

His eyes snapped open. Except it wasn’t Jay; of course it wasn’t.

Idiot. Jay is dead.

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| The Shape Of A Heart

Zach found himself face-to-face with a slim blond man in his early twenties, a

stranger.

Customer, Zach realized with the part of his brain not addled by grief and

confusion. He dug for the friendly but professional veneer he wore here in the store, his

game face. He’d just about managed to drag it into place when he realized his mistake.

This guy was no customer. It was still way too early for customers.

“Sorry, not Jay.” The blond held out his hand, a long, slim hand that, only a

moment before, had been gripping Zach’s arm. “I’m Keith Harte. And you must be

Zach.”

This must be the new kid Rhonna had been threatening to hire. Looked like she’d

gone ahead and done it.

Great. So now he’d made an idiot of himself in front of his new employee. Way to

make a first impression, man.

Zach stared at the hand. Civility dictated that he take it, so he did. Keith Harte’s

grip was firm, the hand warm and dry, a fine handshake. And a good-looking guy too,

Zach’s brain piped up.

Shut up.

That part of his brain, the part that still noticed the way tight pants hugged a

particularly fine ass, would not be so easily silenced.

Look at those gorgeous eyes, it went on, and those pretty, pouty lips. Imagine how

they would feel wrapped around your --

Shut. Up.

So much for the idea that he’d successfully muzzled that voice in his head, only

letting it out on the rare occasions when the company of his right hand wasn’t quite

enough. Clearly, he’d been wrong.

“Um, if you don’t mind me asking, who’s Jay? I don’t think I’ve met him yet.”

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| The Shape Of A Heart

Shit. Not only had he been staring at the man’s mouth, but he was also still

holding his hand.

He dropped the hand and stepped back, putting some much-needed space

between them. “Nobody. Forget it. I was having a senior moment.”

Keith laughed, a warm, sexy chuckle. “I don’t think you’re allowed senior

moments at…what, thirty-four? Thirty-five?”

Keith’s gaze slid down Zach’s body, appreciation clear in his eyes.

“I’m thirty-eight.” And too old for you. Even if, and maybe because, that look had

made his belly flutter.

“Even so, I think the rule is you have to be at least forty before you’re allowed

senior moments.” Keith’s gaze settled on Zach’s mouth.

Zach licked his lips. Just a reflex, he told himself.

“Rhonna didn’t tell me you were starting today.”

Or at all.

Of course he remembered the conversation they’d had, the one where Rhonna said

they needed to hire someone full-time now that the two part-time college kids had

returned to school. The same conversation during which he’d said they could manage

just fine with only the two of them. She hadn’t agreed, and here, standing in front of

him, was the result.

“Oh. Well…I am. I’m going to be running the coffee bar mostly, I think.” He

paused. “Barista boy at your service.” He made a ta-da gesture with his hands and

smiled. That smile took his all-American good looks to something close to angelic.

Zach’s cock stirred and began to fill. “Oh, well, that’s fine.” He shifted his stance,

but apparently not in time. Keith’s gaze dropped from his face to his crotch, then just as

quickly slid back up. “Guess I’ll let you get to it then.”

“Okay. Sure.” Another pause. “Can I maybe get you some coffee? A latte?

Anything?”

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| The Shape Of A Heart

Anything? Yeah, anything would suit me just fine.

“Coffee would be good.”

“Cream?”

“Black.”

“Sugar?”

Christ.

“No. Thanks.”

“Okay.” Keith hesitated. He seemed on the verge of saying something more, then

didn’t. He turned and walked toward the rear of the store, disappearing into the café.

Zach’s gaze followed, drawn by that firm, round ass in those black chinos, like

iron filings to a magnet.

Once Keith was gone, Zach took a breath. It did nothing to banish the images

racing around in his head or quell his growing erection. Okay. Fine. So what if the guy

Rhonna had hired had a nice ass, and eyes the color of good scotch? So what if looking

at Keith Harte made him think of Jay and all the things that had been missing from his

life since his partner’s death?

The two men looked nothing alike, not really. Except for their height, around five-

eight or so, Zach guessed. And both had similar body types, lithe and slim with long,

lean muscles. Was Keith a runner, like Jay had been?

Then there were the hands. Those graceful hands that Keith used so freely when

he talked, just like Jay. No wonder Zach could already imagine those hands on him, the

long fingers stroking his prick, teasing the orgasm up from his balls. So what? Zach was

not looking to get laid, especially not by one of his employees. So no problem, right?

Right.

When Zach heard Keith returning with his coffee, he busied himself with the cash

drawer. After breaking open a roll of quarters he didn’t need, he spilled them into the

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| The Shape Of A Heart

tray, the metallic jingle very loud in the quiet store. Very deliberately he kept his gaze

focused on the money.

He. Would. Not. Look. Up.

“Where do you want it?” Keith asked.

Zach looked up.

In one hand Keith held a large white mug. In the other he held a doughnut. There

was the smile again, lighting up his whole face. A return smile tugged at Zach’s lips. “I

brought you a doughnut. They’re store-bought, but…I hope you like chocolate glazed.”

“Chocolate glazed is good.” Zach heard his own voice as if from far, far away and

gave in to the smile.

Shit.

He was so fucked.

He stayed clear of the café for the rest of the morning. His thoughts, however,

were not so disciplined.

Twice Keith brought him refills on his coffee. The third time he appeared, Zach

knew he had to say something.

“If I drink any more coffee, I think I might have to go out and run around the

block a few times. Either that or crawl right out of my skin.”

Keith looked at the mug in his hand. “Oh, would you rather have decaf?”

“No, thanks. I’m good.”

Keith sipped from the coffee meant for Zach, then lowered the cup and set it on

the counter. “It’s pretty quiet back there. I guess it’ll take some time before people

realize the café is open again.”

“I guess.” Zach straightened a row of books that didn’t need straightening.

“So maybe I could do something else in the meantime, if you want.”

“There’s always a hundred things need doing around here, but you don’t really

have to.”

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| The Shape Of A Heart

For a moment Zach let himself imagine Keith reaching up to align books on one of

the high shelves. Maybe even up on his toes, shirt riding up to show a strip of pale skin,

all those lean muscles stretched taut and—

“I’d like to, if that’s all right. I mean, I could read all day long, but that’s not

exactly what you’re paying me for.”

“I’m sure Rhonna’s got stuff you can do.” Far away, in the back room, where I can’t

see you. “She’s probably in the back. You could go back and ask her.”

For the next hour and a half, Keith stayed in the back with Rhonna while Zach

waited on patrons and tried to keep his thoughts on a short leash. During a lull in the

customer traffic, he grabbed a box of books and carried it back to general fiction to be

shelved. Just as he set the box down, a burst of laughter drifted out of the back room.

It sounded like Keith and Rhonna were really hitting it off, and why not?

Keith was great. He was pleasant, had a good sense of humor. He loved books and

didn’t seem to mind working to earn his money.

He was also hot as fuck and sending out signals all over the place. Signals Zach

was picking up in spades, which was what had led to his current dilemma.

Zach lifted a stack of Stephen King paperbacks and slid them into an empty place

on the shelf.

Of course, he knew he was being an idiot and totally unfair with it. Just because he

was attracted to Keith didn’t mean he had to act on it. He’d been so sure his attraction

muscle had atrophied and died ages ago. Looked like he’d been wrong about that.

And he knew himself, how weak he could be in the face of a strong attraction.

Hell, not even knowing Jay was going to be a priest had stopped him all those years

ago. How much worse would it be with nothing in his way but his own will?

A few more days of Keith Hottie Harte sashaying around the place, bringing him

coffee with a generous helping of those come-and-get-it eyes, and Zach would be on his

knees behind GLBT studies with Keith’s dick down his throat. He could already see it in

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| The Shape Of A Heart

his head—that silky hardness sliding past his lips, the salty-sweet taste of precum on his

tongue, Keith’s long fingers in his hair, holding him still while Keith fucked his mouth.

No, Keith Harte had to go.

* * * *

Like the coward he surely was, Zach waited for Keith to leave for lunch before he

went back to tell Rhonna what he had decided.

He found her kneeling on the floor, surrounded by open cartons of books, her

sweater sleeves pushed up to her elbows, her glasses halfway down her nose. She was

flipping through a stack of paperbacks and didn’t even glance his way.

“Rho?”

“Wait. Counting…fifteen, sixteen, seventeen.” She set down the books, wrote

something on a clipboard, and only then did she turn her attention to him. “What’s the

matter?”

Damn. The woman was uncanny in how well she could read him.

“What makes you think something’s the matter?”

“It’s all over your face, that’s what.” She got to her feet and stretched, bracing her

hands at her lower back. “So spill it, because I’m not playing twenty questions today.”

“He’s not working out. I want you to get rid of him.”

She didn’t even pretend not to understand. “Don’t be ridiculous. He’s a dollbaby.

And he’s only been here four hours. How can you say he’s not working out after only

four hours?”

“I don’t want him here.” He knew how lame it sounded. Would have known even

without her looking at him like that.

“Tell me why, Zach.”

“I just don’t want him here. We can hire someone else if you want, just not him.”

“But why?”

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| The Shape Of A Heart

Zach said nothing. What was there to say? That he wanted Keith gone because he

had a nice ass? Because looking at Keith made him miss Jay with a new intensity,

sharpening the edges of his grief until it felt like no time at all had passed since Jay’s

death?

Then there was the wanting, and he definitely couldn’t explain that to her.

Rhonna was the only member of Jay’s large Irish-Catholic family who had stuck

by them when Jay left the seminary and moved in with Zach. The only family member

who had come to Jay’s funeral. And it was Rhonna who, a week after the funeral, had

shown up at Zach’s door, suitcases in hand, and announced that she was going to help

him run the bookstore for a while, until he decided what he wanted to do.

A while had turned into two years. In that time, she’d bought her own small

house in town, and Zach had, over her objections, done the legal stuff that made her

half owner of Bean Readin’.

“Sometimes I swear I don’t understand you, Zach Jensen. You tell me to go ahead

and hire someone. Then when I do, you give him half a day and decide that he’s not

working out.” Rhonna shoved her glasses up into her hair. Blue eyes, so like Jay’s it

hurt to look into them, considered him. The hard line of her mouth softened. She

reached out and laid her hand against his cheek.

“Zach, honey, I know you still miss Jay. I miss him too. But we need help around

here. I need help.”

“I’ll help you. I can put in more hours.”

She snorted. “You’re already here all the time. What are you going to do, move in?

Sleep back here with the books?”

“I can do more hours,” Zach insisted. “I’ll start doing the inventory. That way you

can run the café.”

“You know I hate running the café. Pouring coffee and making chitchat, it’s not

my thing. I like sitting back here by myself with the books and the bills.”

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He could relate. Schmoozing the customers was his least favorite part of the job.

Jay had been the people person, not him.

“What if I—”

“Zach, I want to take a vacation. I haven’t taken one since—”

“I know how long it’s been.” He couldn’t bear to hear her say it, to reference Jay’s

death, the tragedy from which their friendship had grown. “You should have asked me

before you went and hired some stranger to run Jay’s café.”

“Why, so you could tell me no? So we could have this same discussion we’re

having now?” Her lips curved, but the smile had no humor in it. “So you could tell me

how we don’t need someone and I could tell you how we do?”

“We don’t need him here. I can pick up the slack if you want to take a few days

off.”

“Six weeks.”

“Six weeks what?”

“I want to take six weeks off. I want to go see my sister in Ireland. Her baby is due

soon, and I want to go there and be with her.”

Six weeks. What the hell would he do rattling around here for six weeks by

himself? Still, he would never tell her not to go.

He shrugged like it was no big deal. “So go be with your sister. I can handle it.”

“Oh, sure, I know how you’ll handle it. You just close the place up if you don’t feel

like coming in. Hell, Zach, I might come back and find we’ve gone out of business.”

Damn, it was like she’d plucked the thought right out of his head.

Rhonna’s voice gentled. “You think I don’t know how often you’ve thought of

giving it all up?” She laid a soothing hand on his arm. “I know. And I know what

would happen to you if you did.”

He heard the pity, saw it in her eyes, and hated it. He stepped back, breaking the

contact. “I want him out of here, Rhonna. If you want time off to go see Katie, take the

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time off. If we go out of business in the meantime, then so be it. But I want him out of

here.”

The pity melted away, thank Christ, and anger flashed in her eyes. He could deal

with anger.

“You are the most stubborn man I have ever met.” She fisted her hands on her

hips. “Well, I’m not telling him. I won’t do your dirty work for you. If you want to fire

Keith, you go out there and tell him yourself, because I’m not doing it.”

“Fine.”

“Fine.” She pushed past him and yanked open the door. “You do what you want.

I’m going to lunch.”

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| The Shape Of A Heart

Chapter Two

The door to the back room banged open, and Rhonna stomped out. Keith ducked

behind a towering shelf of paperbacks. Heart hammering, he waited for her to ask what

he thought he was doing skulking around, eavesdropping instead of working. But she

passed him by without even the flicker of a glance to say she knew he was there.

Thank God.

He hadn’t meant to listen, really.

He got back from lunch a little early and found the store empty, which seemed

odd. What if a customer came in and there was no one to wait on him?

Heading for the back room, he’d been about to call out when he heard the raised

voices and stopped. And not only raised voices, but his own name.

Shit, they were arguing about him.

Frozen in place, he listened. He knew it was wrong and that he might very well

hear something he shouldn’t, but he couldn’t make himself move.

It took only a few moments to realize that Zach wanted to fire him, but not why,

and that Rhonna was taking his side, or at least refusing to do it. That was good. He

liked Rhonna.

But what the hell had he done—or not done—to make Zach want to get rid of

him? He couldn’t think of a thing.

Hell, half a day wasn’t even long enough to have done anything.

Once Rhonna had gone, Keith slipped through the maze of shelves on his way

back to the café. From the corner of his eye, he noticed that an entire row of books had

fallen over, some even facing the wrong way.

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He’d only just begun fixing the display when he paused, hands going still. Why

did he even care how the place looked? He was getting the boot after only half a day,

and he didn’t even know why, so what was the point?

Except they hadn’t fired him yet. And not giving a shit wasn’t in his nature.

Several of the books were turned around with the pages facing out or the spines

upside down. He pulled them out, reversed them, and was about to slide them back

into place when the cover of the first book caught his eye. The cover art on this one was

really nice. So why weren’t they showing it? Rather than reshelving the book, he turned

it face out so anyone passing by could see the cover. He checked a couple more books

and did the same with the ones that had the best cover art, then stepped back and

surveyed his handiwork. It looked good.

Keith shook his head. What was wrong with him anyway? One minute he was

asking himself why he cared, the next he was rearranging the shelves like some kind of

marketing guru. Not that he knew anything about the book business, but he did know

that whenever you were trying to sell something, presentation was at least as important

as content.

Returning to the café, Keith began once more going through the coffees and teas

and supplies like he’d started doing that morning. Only this time he made a list of the

other stuff he’d have to order, or have Rhonna order, so they could get the place back

on its feet. He still wasn’t sure exactly why the café had been left to languish, but if he

was going to be in charge, there were certain things he needed before he could make a

go of it.

And how long would he be in charge anyway? Which brought him back around to

the original question: why did Zach want to fire him?

Keith began organizing shelves and straightening the contents of drawers while

his thoughts ran over every moment of the morning, especially his brief interactions

with Zach.

How had he messed up by offering the man coffee?

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| The Shape Of A Heart

He spotted a box of jasmine teabags that had somehow gotten mixed in with the

coffee supplies. He picked it up. As he slid it onto the shelf with the other teas, a

thought occurred to him. Maybe the problem wasn’t with him at all, but rather with

what he had inadvertently witnessed that morning.

He had only been in the store ten minutes or so, only just said hi to Rhonna, when

the door had opened and the best-looking guy he’d seen in a long time walked in.

Windblown black hair curled over the collar of a battered leather bomber jacket. It

fell in luxurious waves around a handsome, if roughhewn, face. Heavy, expressive

brows, a full, sensuous mouth, and a chiseled jaw lightly shadowed with dark stubble,

it was the kind of face that really flipped Keith’s switch, all male with not even a hint of

prettiness. Not a hint, except for the eyes, a deep, melt-you-in-your-sneakers blue,

fringed with lashes that would have made any girl jealous.

The body was good too. Broad shoulders tapered down to a trim waist and

narrow hips. Long legs encased in dark jeans ended at a pair of old yet well-cared-for

boots.

The total made a very appealing picture, and Keith’s mouth watered at the sight.

He’d been about to call out a greeting when an expression of such unspeakable sadness

had passed over the handsome face that it stopped the words before they left his lips.

Zach had swayed and clutched at the edge of the counter as if he might collapse

under the weight of whatever grief or pain had swept over him. Whatever it was, Keith

hadn’t waited to find out.

He’d hurried forward and caught Zach’s arm to steady him. Though with a guy as

big as Zach—easily six-three to his own five-eight—there wouldn’t have been much

Keith could have done if the man was going down. Luckily he stayed upright. Then

he’d looked at Keith like he’d just grabbed his crotch or hocked a loogie on the floor.

Except there was nothing wrong with what he’d done. Instead—and it made total

sense now that he thought about it—it was Zach himself who’d done the unthinkable

by letting a stranger see him in his moment of weakness. He’d been embarrassed.

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If he was right, and Keith was sure he was, there was no way in hell Zach would

ever admit that was the reason he wanted to fire him.

And he’d never been fired from a job before. Hell, he’d never even been

reprimanded. It galled him to think that he would lose this job over another man’s

bruised ego.

That was bullshit.

Keith began to take apart the espresso machine. He ran the hot water and started

systematically cleaning the various parts, his thoughts racing as his hands worked

through the familiar task.

“What are you doing?”

Zach. Keith’s heart began to hammer in his chest. Okay, here it comes.

“This thing hasn’t been cleaned in a long time. So I thought I’d do that.” While I

wait for you to give me the boot.

Zach grunted.

Silence fell between them, the hiss and splash of water from the tap the only

sound in the cafe.

Keith kept his gaze focused on his task. Zach was watching him; he could feel it.

The man’s gaze was like a weight on his back.

“Why don’t you take a break for a minute? I wanted to talk to you—”

Keith didn’t stop what he was doing. “This is a great location. How long have you

owned this place?”

“Twelve years. Like I was saying—”

“Was it always a bookstore? When you bought it, I mean. Was it a bookstore

then?” Keith shut the water off, picked up a towel, and dried his hands.

Zach shook his head. “No. When we took it over it was this…prayer clinic, I guess

you’d call it. The sign said you could come in and get someone to pray with you any

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time, day or night.” He paused. When Keith said nothing, he continued. “They used to

play gospel music from a speaker out front. And they sold stuff.”

Keith began to reassemble the espresso machine. He liked the sound of Zach’s

voice, deep and sandpaper rough, like he’d been a smoker for a lot of years. He

imagined it whispering wicked things in his ear, in the dark. Oh, yeah, he could listen to

that voice for a long time and not get tired of it.

As he slid the last piece of the espresso machine back into place, he looked around

for something else to keep his hands busy, but found nothing. Turning, he propped his

butt against the counter. “What kind of stuff did they sell?”

Zach shrugged. “All kinds of stuff. Little plastic statues of Jesus, holy pictures, T-

shirts that said stuff like ‘What Would Jesus Do?’ Shit like that.” Zach’s eyes took on a

faraway look, and he smiled, a real honest-to-God smile. “Jay called it Jesus junk.”

Keith laughed. “Jesus junk. I like it.”

Zach chuckled. “You wouldn’t have liked it so much if you had to haul it all away.

When we bought the place, it was loaded to the rafters with all that crap. The previous

owner, some kind of preacher, went to jail for tax evasion, I think, and left everything

for us to get rid of.”

“What did you do with it?”

“Took most of it to the dump. What else were we going to do with it?”

“All of it?”

Zach nodded. “All except for this crazy-looking glow-in-the-dark statue of the

sacred heart. We kept that. It was all we kept, and only because Jay said it made him

laugh.”

Zach’s words broke off, and he went utterly silent.

And there it was again, that expression of grief so intense it hurt to see it.

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“Does Jay still work here?” Keith knew instantly, almost before the words were

out, that he’d said something wrong, crossed some forbidden line or touched a nerve. It

was all over Zach’s face.

Shit.

Zach shook his head. Turning away, he mumbled something and hurried out of

the café.

Keith straightened, ready to go after him to apologize or ask if he needed

something, anything to erase that sadness he’d glimpsed in Zach’s eyes.

Jesus, who was this Jay, and what the hell had happened between Zach and him to

cause so much heartache?

He would probably never know the answer to that question, or if he did, it

wouldn’t come from Zach. Clearly, it was a personal matter and none of his business.

Besides, he had enough of his own stuff to deal with, didn’t he?

But at least Zach hadn’t fired him. That was something.

Keith glanced around the café. The place looked better already, more welcoming,

like a place where you might actually want to sit and drink a cup of coffee rather than

like some dusty and forgotten corner of an otherwise thriving business. If he kept this

job—

Screw that. He was keeping the job. He could turn things around in this little café;

he knew it. Far from wanting him gone, Keith would see to it that Zach would be down

on his knees thanking him for doing such a great job.

Keith smiled to himself.

Mmm, Zach Jensen on his knees. Now there was a thought that had definite possibilities.

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| The Shape Of A Heart

Chapter Three

The next day, Keith went to work early. He’d spent the prior evening planning

and preparing his strategy. He would show Zach, and Rhonna too, that hiring him had

not been a mistake. They would soon realize that his presence in the café, as well as in

the bookstore, would be good for their business, so good that Zach would wonder why

he’d ever thought anything different.

When he arrived, he found no sign of Zach, but Rhonna was already there. She

stood by the front table, a frown dug between her brows. It melted away when she saw

him, and she lifted a hand in greeting.

“Hey, you’re just in time to give me your opinion.” She gestured at the table.

“How does this display look?”

Keith considered. “It looks good.”

“But does it make you want to buy books?”

“Sure. Of course, I always want to buy books, so maybe that’s not a good test.”

She made an impatient sound. Then her eyes narrowed, zeroing in on the

container Keith had tucked under one arm. “What did you bring me?”

Setting the container on the front counter, Keith returned her smile as he took off

his jacket. “Brownies.”

“Really?” Display apparently forgotten, she walked over to him.

“Yeah. I hope that’s all right.” Keith grabbed the container. But as he tried to pass

her, she snagged his arm and took it from him.

“Mmm, brownies.” She popped the lid, peered inside, and made another

appreciative sound. “These look fabulous. Who made them?”

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| The Shape Of A Heart

Keith’s stomach did a nervous jig. No one had said he couldn’t bring in munchies,

but he hadn’t exactly asked either. Not that he really expected Rhonna to give him any

grief about it.

“I did.”

“Really?” Her brows lifted. She reached into the container and selected one of the

brownie bites in its little paper cup. Once she removed the paper, she popped it into her

mouth and chewed. Her eyes widened.

Keith smiled to himself.

“Oh, my God, Keith, these are incredible.” She took another one. Chewed. “Mmm,

better than sex, if I do say so myself.”

Keith laughed. Of course he knew how good they were, sure. But even after

almost a decade in the restaurant business, it still gave him a thrill when someone

praised his cooking.

Rhonna started to reach for another brownie, then jerked her hand out of the

container. Closing the lid, she thrust it at him. “Take these away from me. Take them

far, far away before I eat myself sick on chocolate. Better yet, put them under lock and

key.”

Keith grinned and took the brownies. “If I do that, it’ll be hard for the customers

to eat them.”

“To hell with the customers. Those are way too good for the customers.”

The door to the shop opened, and Zach came in. He stopped some distance from

where they stood, his gaze shifting from Keith to Rhonna and back again.

“What’s too good for the customers?” His gaze lingered on Keith. It lingered so

long, Keith felt the heat rise to his cheeks.

“Keith made brownies, and they’re freaking fantastic.” Rhonna turned to Keith.

“Give the boss man a brownie, honey.”

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| The Shape Of A Heart

A wave of sudden shyness swept over him. Keith battled back the urge to take the

container and escape into the café. He was acting like a moron. The brownies were

good. He knew they were good, had brought them in specifically to wow his new

employers with his culinary skill. So what was there to be shy about? Nothing.

Keith choked down his nerves and held out the container. “I thought I’d put them

out on the counter. You know, sort of a free sample that people could take, a little

something to have with their coffee or tea…”

His words trailed off. He was babbling. He shut his mouth before he could sound

any more like an idiot.

Zach took one of the brownies. With his gaze steady on Keith’s, he ate it. Chewed.

Swallowed and said…

Nothing.

“Aren’t they terrific?” Rhonna demanded.

“They’re fine,” Zach said, his tone neutral. Without another word, he turned and

walked into his office, shutting the door behind him.

After a moment of silence, Rhonna sighed. She touched Keith’s arm. “Don’t let

him bother you, honey. Zach is just—”

“Oh, he doesn’t bother me.”

And didn’t he sound so convincing? Like he really couldn’t give a shit what Zach

Jensen thought of him or his cooking.

He replaced the lid on the container, picked it up, and headed for the café. He

would not waste his time or energy thinking about Zach-fucking-Jensen or why the

man so clearly lied about a stupid-ass thing like brownies.

Fuck that. He had work to do.

* * * *

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| The Shape Of A Heart

“That’ll be twenty-six fifty.” Zach picked up a bag from the stack under the

counter and slid the two books inside while his customer reached in his back pocket

and produced his wallet. He extracted his credit card and held it out.

“You have a nice place here,” the man said. “Are you the owner?”

“Thank you,” Zach said as he accepted the card. “I’ve owned the place for the past

twelve years.”

“Hmm, well, I’ve never been here before, but I’ll definitely be back.” The man

smiled, holding Zach’s gaze, and holding it, and holding it.

This guy was cruising him. Zach suppressed a sigh and broke the eye contact.

“That’s what we like to hear.”

“Count on it then.” The guy took the bag with his purchases and the credit card

receipt. But rather than turn toward the door, he hesitated, his gaze flicking toward the

back of the shop. “By any chance is the coffee bar still open?”

A weirdly unpleasant vibe prickled the skin at the back of Zach’s neck. He

dismissed it and shook his head. “I’m afraid not. We’re getting ready to close up for the

day. But there’s a Starbucks just up the street.”

“That’s too bad.” The guy stuffed the receipt in his pocket. “I’ve heard good things

about your little coffee bar. Well, maybe next time.”

Zach watched the guy walk out, then followed him to the door, flipped the sign

around to read CLOSED, and turned the lock. It was nearly six and time to go home.

Thank Christ. He’d had a hell of a day.

He returned to the register and was about to begin shutting down when he

paused, the customer’s words coming back.

“I’ve heard good things about your little coffee bar.”

How was that possible when they had only just reopened the cafe?

Just bullshitting most likely. The guy had been giving him “the look” and doing

his best to delay leaving. So yeah, that stuff about the coffee bar was bullshit.

Kimberly Gardner

| The Shape Of A Heart

Zach went back to totaling up the day’s receipts, preparing the bank deposit, and

promptly forgot the guy.

He counted the cash twice, fingers moving swiftly, the soft riffling of the bills the

only sound. This was his favorite time of day. He loved the quiet and if not actual

solitude, at least the illusion. Rhonna was still there, but they’d hardly spoken all day.

He suspected she was avoiding him, probably still pissed over the brownie incident,

which was totally ridiculous.

He knew, though she hadn’t said so, that she thought he should apologize.

Well, fuck that. He wasn’t apologizing.

He had nothing to apologize for. He hadn’t criticized the stupid brownies. He’d

said they were fine. What the hell had they wanted him to say?

Zach closed his eyes. He imagined he could still taste the brownie on his tongue,

rich and smooth like chocolate velvet. Delicious. Maybe the best brownie he’d ever had.

So why hadn’t he said that this morning? Why had he acted like an ass, pissed

Rhonna off, and probably Keith too? He had no clue. Or maybe he did.

He licked his lips. He was still craving that taste—jonesing for it, if he was really

honest with himself. And oh, yeah, while we’re being so honest, the chocolate wasn’t

the only thing he was jonesing for. He knew it was that, more than anything else, that

had made him act like an ass.

Christ.

Someone cleared their throat. Zach’s eyes popped open. Rhonna was looking at

him, eyebrows lifted. She had her coat on and her keys in her hand.

“You feeling okay?”

“Sure, just a little tired, I guess.”

She said nothing for a long moment, only gave him what he thought of as “the

Rhonna look.” It said, I know you’re feeding me a bunch of bullshit, so excuse me if I don’t dig

right in.

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| The Shape Of A Heart

After a moment she said, “All right. Well, then, if you don’t need me for anything

else, I’m heading out.”

“Go ahead.” Zach laid the envelope with the bank deposit on the counter. “I’ll

finish up here, then close up.”

“Want me to drop that at the bank?” Without waiting for an answer, she picked it

up.

“I’d appreciate it.”

Rhonna hesitated, then glanced pointedly over her shoulder in the direction of the

café. “Keith is still here, you know.”

Zach nodded. “I know.”

Clearly she was dying to know if he had, or ever would, apologize to Keith. But

Zach knew she’d sooner bite off her own tongue than ask.

So he smiled. “See you in the a.m., then.”

For a minute he was sure her curiosity would get the better of her and she’d break

down and ask. But instead she nodded and headed for the door, keys jingling in her

hand.

The chimes rang softly as Rhonna opened the door.

Zach inhaled. The frigid air smelled like snow. He watched her go. Then, when he

was sure she was gone, he allowed himself a glance back toward the café. No sound

came from that direction.

What was Keith doing anyway? It was time to go home, past time, and he was still

back there. If the man wanted to spend his whole night in the store, that was on him,

but Zach sure as hell didn’t. He had other stuff to do, lots of other stuff.

Making his way back to the office, he grabbed his jacket from the coat tree and

slipped it on. As he reached for the light switch, his gaze fell on the silver-framed

photograph of Jay he kept on his desk. He picked it up and studied his dead lover’s

smiling face, the laughing blue eyes that had seen the best in everyone and everything.

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| The Shape Of A Heart

Jay would have known what to say about the goddamn brownies. Jay always

knew what to say to make people feel good, warm, and appreciated. He’d been

especially adept at bringing Zach out of his frequent funks or the more serious dark

depressions of the old days. Now he had no one to lift him up. “I still miss you,” Zach

said to the photograph. He laid his fingertips against Jay’s lips, but rather than warm,

living flesh, he touched only cold, unyielding glass.

He blinked the sting from his eyes and replaced the picture on his desk.

He needed to apologize. It’s what Jay would tell him to do. Of course, if Jay were

here…

But Jay wasn’t here. Just him. And Keith.

Zach paused in the arch that separated the café from the bookstore. As he watched

Keith work, wiping down the counter with the rag in his hand, Zach’s chest tightened.

How could he have known how goddamn hard it would be to see another man, a

man who was not Jay, moving around the café and looking so at home there? Or

maybe, on some level, he had always known, and that was why he’d left the café empty

for so long.

Keith hummed softly as he worked, rinsing the rag, then moving from the counter

to the espresso machine. It looked like he was about done for the day too. He’d closed

the blinds on the wide window looking out on the street and turned off all but the

single light over the counter, throwing most of the café into shadow.

Keith began to sing to himself. He had a sweet, soft tenor that made Zach’s heart

ache. He listened, but couldn’t place the tune. He knew it; he was sure. It niggled at his

memory, familiar but out of reach.

Zach’s gaze traveled down that lithe body, appreciating the lean muscles and the

smooth efficiency of Keith’s movements. He flexed his fingers. He could practically see

himself gripping those slim hips, could almost feel how Keith would move under him

when they—

“What song is that?”

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| The Shape Of A Heart

The singing stopped. Keith’s shoulders tensed, his spine going rigid.

Just when Zach was sure he wouldn’t get an answer, Keith spoke. “Some old

Jackson Brown song, I think.”

“But what’s it called?”

“I don’t remember.”

“Sure you do. You were singing it. How can you not know what it’s called if you

were singing it?”

“How long have you been standing there?”

“A couple minutes.” Zach took a step closer. “So what’s it called?”

Keith tossed the rag into the sink, then turned and stared hard at Zach. “Is there

something you want?”

Oh, yeah, Keith was pissed. But rather than regret or embarrassment, Zach felt a

thrill race through him. Was that arousal? And how fucking weird was it that the idea

of pissing Keith off was a turn-on?

“I want to know the name of that song.” Zach walked over to the counter, wiped

clean and gleaming white under the single light. He propped a hip on one of the stools

and slid his gaze down Keith’s body, letting some of that excitement show in his eyes.

“I told you, I don’t remember.”

The silence stretched between them like melting taffy.

Zach cleared his throat. His gaze strayed to the container that held the brownies. It

sat on the counter, ready to be taken away. He couldn’t see if there was anything left

inside.

“So how did the brownies go over?”

“Great. The customers loved them. They were all gone by the middle of the

afternoon.” Keith paused. “I was talking to Rhonna about us maybe selling them. She

thinks it’s a good idea…”

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| The Shape Of A Heart

His words trailed off, but he didn’t look away. He also didn’t ask Zach what he

thought of the idea. Pointedly didn’t ask.

The man had balls. He liked that.

“It is a good idea.” Zach shifted his weight, slid off the stool, but got no closer to

Keith. “Listen, about this morning…”

Keith said nothing. His expression remained cool and impersonal. But something

flared in his eyes. It disappeared so quickly Zach wasn’t sure if it had been there at all.

He chose to believe that it had.

He tried a smile. “I was an ass.” He took a single step toward Keith. “The

brownies are good.”

“I know they are. That’s why I brought them.” Keith crossed his arms over his

chest.

“Yeah, well.” Zach’s gaze flicked once more to the container. “Are there any left?”

“I told you, they all went by midafternoon.”

Zach took those last few steps. Without asking, he opened the lid of the container.

Two brownies sat in the corner in their paper cups. He lifted his gaze to Keith’s,

considered asking, then didn’t. Instead he reached into the container, picked up a

brownie, and raised it to his lips.

Rather than pop it into his mouth, he stroked the sweet over his bottom lip. The

heady aroma of dark chocolate filled his nostrils. So sweet. With his gaze steady on

Keith, he took the smallest bite.

Keith’s eyes followed the movement. Heat flared in their golden depths as a flush

crept into his cheeks.

Zach’s prick jerked. Part of his brain—the normal, sane part—demanded to know

what the hell he thought he was doing. He wasn’t the flirty, game-playing type. Never

had been. But there was something about this man that made him want to push his

luck, to act out in ways he never had before.

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| The Shape Of A Heart

He took the rest of the brownie into his mouth, chewed, and swallowed. “Mmm.”

“What do you want?” The words poured out in a rush, low and rough and loaded

with some meaning that went straight to Zach’s dick.

He could apologize, say what he came to say, and get the hell out, except it was

already too late for that. Instead he picked up the other brownie, took the few

remaining steps to where Keith stood, and raised the sweet to the other man’s lips.

“Open up.”

Keith’s lips parted, and Zach fed him the brownie. His teeth closed on the bit of

chocolate, and his lips brushed Zach’s fingers, sending a bolt of lust to his crotch. His

dick swelled, pressing painfully full against his zipper.

He stood frozen, unable to tear his gaze away, and watched Keith chew and

swallow, muscles working in that long, pale throat. The urge to press his lips to the

hollow where Keith’s pulse jumped was almost irresistible.

Hardly aware he meant to do it, he pressed his palm against the center of Keith’s

chest and felt the strong steady bump of the other man’s heart under his palm. Zach

took a breath. He needed to get some control here, some distance. He took half a step

back.

Keith caught his wrist, holding him there. “Where do you think you’re going? I

want the rest of my treat.”

He took the rest of the brownie into his mouth. His tongue slipped out and

stroked Zach’s finger before drawing it into that warm, wet cavern.

Zach’s brain shrieked at him to slow down, get a grip, stop this madness before it

was too late. He ignored it. Growling low in his throat, he yanked Keith against him,

crushing their bodies together. “If you don’t want this, tell me now.”

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| The Shape Of A Heart

Keith wound his arms around his boss’s neck and reached up to press his cheek to

Zach’s. Five-o’clock shadow rasped against his skin, and he closed his eyes. His lips

brushed Zach’s ear. “You know I do.”

He leaned back, lips parted, and waited for the kiss he was sure would come next.

Had to come next, because couldn’t Zach feel how much he wanted it? He was dying

for the taste of this strange, confusing man who seemed at once to desire and disdain

him.

And how fucked up was it that, even knowing this, Keith wanted him anyway?

But the kiss didn’t come. After an awkward few seconds, Keith pressed close

again. It didn’t matter that Zach didn’t want to kiss him. He wouldn’t let it matter.

Some guys didn’t kiss. No big deal.

Zach’s arms tightened around him, the bulge of his erection pressing against

Keith’s growing arousal. He molded his body to Zach’s. A soft whimper escaped his

lips.

Zach’s fingers tangled in his hair, and he drew Keith’s head back, baring his

throat. Teeth scraped along the big vein in his neck, ending with a small nip at his

pulse, hammering so hard he knew, just knew, he couldn’t possibly swallow past the

pounding.

The counter pressed into Keith’s spine right above his ass. Zach’s crotch pressed

into his crotch, heat against heat, hard flesh against hard flesh. He rocked their hips

together, cock on cock.

God.

Zach’s hand in his hair tightened painfully as his other hand worked open Keith’s

zipper. Clever fingers flipped open the button of his jeans, then slipped inside. He

pushed Keith’s briefs aside, baring the head and upper half of his prick. His jeans and

briefs were dragged down to his knees as Zach lifted him onto the counter. His dick

sprang free, flushed dark with blood, throbbing, and wet at the tip.

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| The Shape Of A Heart

Heat flared in Zach’s eyes, and a thrill raced along Keith’s nerves. Bad idea or not,

he wanted this man, and the look in those pretty eyes told Keith that Zach wanted him

too just as much.

Zach shoved Keith’s jeans and underwear down to his ankles, only to be stopped

by his sneakers. Without bothering to undo the laces, Zach yanked the shoes off and

tossed them aside. Once Keith’s legs were free, Zach shoved them apart. With a hand in

the center of his chest, he pushed Keith back onto the counter and stared down at his

cock as if mesmerized. Then very gently he cupped Keith’s sac in his palm and lifted it

so the whole package was on display.

The hand holding his balls gave them a light squeeze. A drop of clear fluid slid

down the length of his shaft.

Shoving Keith’s shirt up, Zach played his fingers over the muscles in Keith’s belly,

tracing the line of pale hair trailing down and down to the curls at the base of his prick.

Keith squirmed.

Zach leaned over him, his breath wafting warm over Keith’s lips. Now the kiss

would come. Keith parted his lips expectantly. His tongue slipped out.

And nothing happened.

He stifled a moan of frustration.

Why didn’t Zach want to kiss him?

He gazed up at those perfect lips. So soft, so lush, so sensually, wickedly full. And

Zach would be a great kisser; he was sure of it. Hell, the man could probably kiss him

into a gooey, melting puddle right there on the counter.

Keith willed Zach’s lips to touch his. Just once. Just a taste.

Instead came the hard, hot slide of Zach’s dick against his, warm, sure fingers

pressing them together, the heavy fullness of Zach’s balls like a promise between

Keith’s thighs.

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| The Shape Of A Heart

“You feel so good,” Zach breathed. Strong fingers stroked their cocks, the sticky

slick of precum easing the slide of flesh against flesh.

God.

Keith’s lashes fluttered, his hips lifting, and he thrust into Zach’s hand. This really

was what he wanted, what he’d wanted since he first laid eyes on Zach Jensen. Now if

only…

“That’s it, angel. Show me what you want. Show me how you want to come for

me. Be my slut and come for me.”

“Yes,” Keith sighed. It wasn’t a lie. He wanted to come, and he wanted Zach to

come. He wanted to feel the spill of hot spunk over his belly, his and Zach’s as they

came together. Hell, that voice alone could push him over the edge.

Except coming for Zach wouldn’t be enough.

“You’re so beautiful,” Zach murmured. “Such a beautiful slutboy. You make me

so hot.”

Zach’s thrusts sped up, the movement of his hand faster and more urgent.

The muscles in Keith’s belly tensed as sparks flared along his spine. He writhed,

head rolling from side to side as he fought to stave off his release.

“Fuck, baby. Yeah!” Zach’s dick swelled and pulsed. Hot cum splashed over

Keith’s cock and onto his belly.

Keith’s balls pulled tight. “Ah, fuck.”

He thrust into Zach’s hand and came, his own spunk mixing with Zach’s on his

skin, the scent of sex filling his nostrils.

God, he was such a slut for this man.

Kimberly Gardner

| The Shape Of A Heart

Chapter Four

Zach pounded away on the computer keys. He focused on his task, entering

updates to the store’s inventory so he wouldn’t have to think about what he’d done the

night before with Keith. Right there in the café, for sweet Christ’s sake! He must have lost

his fucking mind! Stripping the kid bare-ass naked and jerking them both off like they

were in the backseat on prom night.

But God, it had been good. Fast and hot and exactly what he needed.

And Keith was no kid. He was nearly thirty, despite the fact that he didn’t look

old enough to buy a beer without ID. Zach himself was only thirty-eight. So at least no

one could accuse him of robbing the cradle.

“Just stupidity.” Zach finished entering the last of the data and clicked Save.

The screen went dark for a moment, then blue.

“Goddamnit!” He slammed his fist down on the desk.

Without much hope, he hit the Enter key. When nothing happened, he went for

Control-Alt-Delete.

Nothing. The screen remained obstinately blue, filled with meaningless

gobbledygook, the computer equivalent of being flipped the proverbial bird.

“Fucking piece of shit.” Zach seized the keyboard, not sure what he meant to do.

A light tap sounded at the office door.

“What is it?” Zach dropped the keyboard on the desk. The door opened.

Keith stood in the doorway, a steaming mug of coffee and a croissant balanced in

one hand, the other on the doorknob, a tentative smile playing around his lips. His gaze

flicked from Zach’s face to the monitor and back. “Got the blue screen of death, huh?”

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| The Shape Of A Heart

“Looks that way.”

Keith took a step closer, then another. “Not much you can do when that happens.”

“Except trash the worthless piece of shit.”

“I’d try rebooting the worthless piece of shit first.” The smile blossomed. It was

like the sun suddenly coming out on a dreary day and shining down on him.

Zach’s stomach fluttered—that low-in-the-belly, butterfly feeling he’d nearly

forgotten, it had been so long since he’d felt it. And he’d only ever felt it for one other

man.

Great, Zach thought, even as the answering smile curved his lips. So much for a

casual fuck buddy. Clearly, he couldn’t even have that with this man. Keith Harte was

too tempting, too appealing, too…dangerous.

He’d half expected that Keith would either not show up at all this morning, or if

he did, that it would only be to tell Zach off for, once again, acting like a total asshole,

then to quit. But here he was, smiling at Zach and teasing him, if he was reading the

glint in those whiskey-colored eyes right. And besides, you didn’t bring someone coffee

and croissants when you came in to quit.

So maybe…

“I thought you might want some coffee.” Keith held out the mug. Steam curled

above the rim of the cup.

The delectable scent of rich French roast reached Zach’s nostrils. He inhaled,

savoring the aroma of the coffee and not, he told himself, the light, citrusy scent of

Keith’s cologne.

When Zach didn’t move, Keith set the mug on the edge of the desk and the

croissant on a paper napkin beside it.

“The croissants are still warm.” His leg brushed Zach’s, the contact electric in the

tiny office. Neither of them backed off or broke the casual touch.

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| The Shape Of A Heart

“Smells good,” Zach said. His gaze slid down Keith’s body, the memory of how

he’d looked laid out on the pristine white marble counter—naked, skin flushed with

arousal, cum-splattered and beautiful—fresh enough to have Zach’s prick sitting up

and taking notice.

“Thanks. I hope it tastes good.” Keith licked his lips. He shifted from foot to foot,

his leg rubbing along Zach’s thigh.

All he’d have to do was shove the door shut, pull Keith down to straddle his lap,

unzip them both, and ease the sudden ache in his balls with a few strokes of his hand.

Or Keith’s hand. Or maybe even Keith’s mouth.

And Keith would let him. Zach knew it as surely as he knew his own name, which

was why he wouldn’t do it.

“Zach?”

“What?” He tried to roll his chair back, gain some space. But he was wedged

between the desk and the file cabinet. Trapped.

“I said, ‘I hope the croissant will be good.’ What did you think I said?”

“Nothing. I don’t know. Of course it’ll be good—the croissant, I mean.” Heat

flooded Zach’s cheeks.

God, he sounded like an idiot. Of course, he meant the croissant. What else?

But oh, how he’d wanted to taste Keith last night, had thought all the way home

about leaning down and licking their mingled seed off that taut belly. The image was so

vivid and persistent that by the time he’d gotten home, he was hard again.

“So…” Keith slipped his thumbs into his front pockets, then pulled them out. He

shifted and propped a hip on the corner of the desk.

What was he doing? Besides standing way too close.

Zach found himself making eye contact with Keith’s crotch. Jesus, he could see the

outline of Keith’s cock so clearly under those dark chinos.

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| The Shape Of A Heart

Zach tore his gaze away. He had to look anywhere but there. Thank God Rhonna

was in the store. He could hear the rustle and thud as she shelved titles somewhere not

too far away. At least her being there would save them both from his baser instincts.

“I was wondering if you’d have dinner with me tomorrow night.”

Well, shit. Far from quitting or ripping him a new one, Keith was asking him out.

“Dinner?”

“Yeah, it’s that meal that people usually eat at the end of the day. I’m sure you’ve

heard of it.” Keith grinned. “Sometimes when two people eat it together, it’s known as a

date.” He winked.

Zach’s belly did that fluttery thing again. “I don’t think—”

“If tomorrow’s not good, we could do Friday or Saturday.”

Christ. He couldn’t do this. He opened his mouth to say, “No, thanks,” or make

up an excuse or…something.

“It’s not that. I just—”

“Do you like salmon? I know this great fish place. Or if you’re more of a

carnivore…”

“You aren’t going to let me say no, are you?”

There was a long pause. Then very quietly, Keith said, “It’s just dinner, Zach.”

It’s just coffee, Zach remembered saying when he’d asked Jay out on their first date.

Not that Jay had known it was a date, because Zach had very deliberately not phrased it

that way. And not that it had been very much of a date anyway. There hadn’t even been

any touching except for the occasional brush of their knees under the table.

They’d sat on opposite sides of a booth in the back of a dumpy little diner on the

side of the highway. He remembered the coffee, so thick and strong you could

practically stand a spoon in the cup. He’d drunk four cups of the stuff and would have

glugged down forty gallons if it meant he could have stayed there a few minutes more

listening to Jay talk and looking into his eyes.

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| The Shape Of A Heart

“Just dinner?” Zach met Keith’s gaze.

“Yeah.” Keith nodded.

“All right. Dinner tomorrow, then.”

“That’s great.” Eyes alight with pleasure, Keith took a step back, giving Zach room

to breathe again. “So I’ll see you tomorrow night at my place at, like, seven. Shall I shut

the door on my way out?” Without waiting for an answer, he backed out of the office

and closed the door.

The latch clicked.

* * * *

After several hours sitting in that diner, Zach’s butt had begun to go numb where

the springs poked through the worn seat cushion. He was so buzzed on caffeine he

could feel his heart thrumming like a motor in his chest. His hand shook so hard the

cup clattered against the saucer when he set it down. But even so, he would gladly have

stayed there forever if only Jay said the word.

Instead, Jay glanced at his watch and made a quiet sound of dismay. “I didn’t

realize it was so late. I really have to get going.”

“I’ll get the check,” Zach said when Jay reached for his wallet.

“Let me get the tip, then.” Jay passed a few bills across the table. Their fingers

brushed ever so briefly, and Zach nearly came in his pants.

As they walked to the door of the diner, Zach held his jacket in front of him to

conceal the fact that his dick was as hard as a fence post inside his jeans. But once

outside, standing by Jay’s car, he moved the jacket aside, letting Jay get a good, long

look.

The young seminarian licked his lips. “Okay, well, thanks for the coffee.” He gave

Zach’s shoulder a brief squeeze. “Call me if you need anything, okay?”

Zach watched Jay drive away before getting in his own car and starting the

engine.

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He reached his building somehow and stumbled up the steps to his apartment.

The key chittered all around the hole as he struggled to unlock the door. At last he

rammed the key home, shoved open the door, and practically fell inside.

His hand shook as he yanked down his zipper. He freed his throbbing cock from

its denim prison and began to jerk himself off right there in the living room. He

pictured Jay’s eyes, the light brown curls that fell over his collar, the pretty lips Zach

had yet to taste. He imagined sliding the head of his cock past those lips and over Jay’s

tongue, imagined fucking that face with its delicate features, a face that missed being

pretty by a hairbreadth.

He pumped his dick with hard, brutal strokes. It didn’t take long. After only a few

moments, he shot, spraying spunk over his jeans and shirt. Some even splashed his

chin.

* * * *

Zach opened his eyes and met the laughing gaze of his dead lover in the

photograph on his desk. “It’s just dinner, I swear.”

And he could have sworn he heard Jay’s laughter from behind the glass.

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Chapter Five

Keith opened the refrigerator, grabbed the wedge of Locatelli Romano from the

top shelf, and set it on the counter. What else? While the cool air caressed his heated

skin, he reviewed the ingredients for the dinner he was cooking for Zach.

The salmon in its white paper sat next to the colander of spring mix, rinsed and

ready to go. The little basket of raspberries for the vinaigrette peeked out from behind

the tall dessert glasses filled with chocolate mousse. Maybe they would eat the mousse

in bed. That would be fun.

He set garlic, olive oil, and a bunch of fresh basil on the counter beside the cheese.

He would make the pesto, then the dressing for the salad before he changed his shirt.

He needed shoes too, but he had plenty of time before Zach arrived.

It was a long time since he’d last cooked dinner for a man, and he’d missed it.

Everything from planning the menu to selecting the ingredients to the actual cooking

and eating of the food; he loved it all. Food was so sensual, the sharing of a meal so

intimate, it truly was one of the great pleasures of life, a pleasure he would share with

Zach tonight. But not the only pleasure they would share if he had his way, and he

thought he might.

Humming quietly, Keith took the grater down from the cabinet and set it next to

the bowl. He unwrapped the cheese and had just begun to work when the doorbell

rang.

He glanced at the clock. Too early for Zach, and he didn’t know that many other

people in New Hope, none well enough for them to drop in like this.

He set the cheese in the bowl and the grater down next to it. Going to the window,

he twitched the curtain aside and peered out.

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Zach stood on the front step, one hand in the pocket of his beat-up leather jacket, a

bottle of wine tucked under his arm. His head was turned, and he was looking back

toward the street, his profile cast in shadows by the fading light. He looked incredible.

Dark and sexy and dangerous.

And I look like shit, Keith thought with a grimace. Nothing he could do about that

now.

He ran his fingers through his messy hair, not that it would help, then opened the

door, a ready smile curving his lips.

“Hey, Zach, you’re early.”

Zach turned. A frown creased his brow, and his eyes snapped with blue fire. “You

always just fling the door open without asking who it is? I could have been anybody.”

Zach was scolding him for not being careful. It should have pissed him off. But far

from that, the lecture made Keith feel warm all over. God, he was so gone on this guy it

was pathetic.

“I looked out the window.” Then, because Zach looked so serious, “Besides, you

aren’t just anyone. You’re you.”

“That’s not the point. I could have been—”

“Whoa.” Keith held up a hand. “What are you, the door police?”

Some unreadable expression flickered in Zach’s eyes. “No, forget it.”

“What?”

“Nothing. Forget it. Please?”

That was weird. Keith shrugged it off. It didn’t matter. Zach was here.

“So, are you going to stand outside all night, or are you coming in?” He opened

the door wider.

Zach stepped inside and, pausing in the tiny foyer, held out the wine. “This is for

you. It’s…wine.”

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Keith laughed. “I can see that.” He took the bottle and turned it so the light fell on

the label. “Chardonnay. Perfect.”

Zach said nothing.

Keith looked up from his examination of the label and found Zach’s gaze on him.

His mouth went dry, and his pulse sped up. The small foyer and Zach’s size combined

to bring the two of them thrillingly close.

They stared at each other in silence. Keith’s gaze fixed on Zach’s mouth, those

tempting lips he had yet to sample.

What the hell.

Keith set the wine bottle down on the hall table. Laying his palms on Zach’s broad

shoulders, he rose on tiptoe and pressed his mouth to Zach’s.

For the space of several heartbeats, Zach stood frozen, not touching, not kissing

back. Keith wasn’t even sure he breathed.

Shit.

A voice in Keith’s head whispered, Bad idea, dude. His heart beat wildly, but he

refused to chicken out. He wanted this kiss, had wanted it for a long time, and if Zach

wouldn’t give it, then damn it, he would take it.

He ran the tip of his tongue along the closed seam of Zach’s lips, asking for

entrance.

Zach made a sound in his throat, half sigh and half growl. All at once his arms

wrapped around Keith’s waist, and Keith was dragged against him. Zach’s lips parted,

and his tongue met Keith’s—met, conquered, then invaded his mouth as Zach took

control of the kiss.

Held tight against Zach’s body, Keith found himself on the receiving end of a soul-

searing, heart-stopping lip-lock that was everything he’d dreamed it would be and

more because it was real, a no-holds-barred, full-contact kiss. His mouth was plundered

as hands rucked up his T-shirt and found skin. A wave of pure lust swept through him,

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at once hardening his cock and weakening his knees. He’d been swept up in Hurricane

Zach, and all he could do was hang on.

So much for a slow seduction.

As suddenly as it began, the kiss broke. Zach tore his mouth from Keith’s and

practically shoved him away.

“Christ.” Zach scrubbed the back of one hand over his mouth.

Keith crushed the hurt that wanted to come. Zach’s hand trembled, and that hurt

turned to triumph. He’d shaken Zach, and done it with just a kiss.

Damn.

Keith resisted touching his fingers to his own bruised and puffy lips. He settled

for smiling up at Zach. “I’m glad you’re here.”

“Yeah, I get that.” Zach’s expression softened. One of those rare smiles curved his

lips. It reached all the way to his eyes, making them sparkle and bringing those sexy

crinkles at the corners.

Keith’s heart did a backflip, and his stomach fluttered with excitement. Oh, yeah,

tonight they would be sharing much more than a meal.

“Want to come in?” He grabbed the bottle of chardonnay from the hall table and

held it up. “I’ve got wine.”

Zach laughed as Keith hoped he would. “Wine would be good.” He followed him

into the living room. “What time is our reservation?”

Keith took a steadying breath. “I didn’t make reservations. I thought we’d eat

here.” He watched for a reaction but got none. He rushed on. “Will you come into the

kitchen and open the wine while I get the appetizers?”

Zach followed him into the small dining area, saying nothing. Keith set the wine

bottle on the counter, opened the drawer where he kept the corkscrew, and took it out.

He handed it to Zach.

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“I thought you said we were going out.” Zach picked up the bottle and slit the foil

around the top.

“I wanted to cook for you.” And he’d never actually said they were going out, just

that they were having dinner, so it wasn’t a lie. He watched Zach position the

corkscrew and screw it down. Zach said nothing.

While Zach’s hands were busy, Keith stepped up behind him, slid his arms

around Zach’s waist, and pressed against his back. Tucking his thumbs behind Zach’s

belt buckle, he rocked his hips against that most excellent ass, the ass that had fueled so

many of his fantasies lately. “That’s all right, isn’t it?”

Zach’s hands stilled. “It’s not all right.”

“Why not?” Unhooking one thumb, Keith slid his hand down until he found

Zach’s erection. He gave it a light squeeze and was rewarded when Zach gasped. “You

want me.”

“Of course, I fucking want you. You’re beautiful.” Zach jerked the arms of the

corkscrew down, then yanked. The cork came free with a soft pop.

“So what’s the problem?” Keith rested his cheek against Zach’s shoulder. He

closed his eyes and breathed in the scents of soap and shampoo. He could smell the

starch in Zach’s shirt, the scent unaccountably arousing.

“I don’t have anything to give you.” Zach spoke so softly, Keith had to strain to

hear.

“I beg to differ.” Keith gave Zach’s prick another light squeeze. Through the worn

denim, Zach’s cock swelled and pulsed against his palm.

“You don’t even know me.”

The simple statement held a note of pleading that broke Keith’s heart. He rubbed

his cheek against Zach’s shirt. “I want to.”

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After releasing Zach’s erection, Keith slowly drew down his zipper and slipped

his hand inside Zach’s jeans, then through the opening in his boxers, finally finding his

prize.

Zach’s cock was silky and hot to the touch. The sticky slickness of precum kissed

Keith’s fingertips as he carefully drew out Zach’s dick.

God, he could smell the other man’s arousal. The heady fragrance fed Keith’s

need. He touched his lips under Zach’s ear and wrapped his fingers around Zach’s

prick.

“I want this inside me. I have since the first time I saw you.” He licked a line up

the side of his neck. “If all you want is to fuck me, I can live with that. It’s not all I want,

but it’ll do.” For now, he added silently.

“Keith.” Zach’s fingers covered Keith’s. His hips shifted, and he pushed into the

touch.

“Please,” Keith breathed. “Please, fuck me?”

Zach took a breath, then blew it out on a half laugh. “Hell.”

He turned, dislodging Keith’s hand, and suddenly Keith was once more in Zach’s

arms.

His head dipped. His blue gaze burned into Keith’s. He muttered something

about one or both of them being fools. Keith didn’t know and didn’t care, because in the

next moment Zach crushed their mouths together in a kiss as much damnation as

desire. Their lips fused, tongues sliding together as they devoured each other right there

in the tiny kitchen.

Zach’s hands slid down to Keith’s ass, cupping and squeezing, molding their

bodies together. His leg slipped between Keith’s. A hard-muscled thigh pressed up

against Keith’s crotch.

Keith moaned and rocked against it, shameless in his wanting, completely

intoxicated, though he had yet to taste a single drop of wine.

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Zach broke the kiss. He looked as dazed as Keith felt. “You’re sure about this?”

“Why do you keep asking me that?” Keith twirled a lock of dark hair around his

finger.

“When did I ask you that?”

“The other night in the cafe right before we—”

“I want you to be sure.”

“I am sure. So stop asking, okay?”

Zach laughed, and some of the tension in the room eased. “Okay, if you say so.”

He released him and tucked himself away but left his jeans unzipped. “So where’s the

bedroom?”

Keith’s hand was warm and sure as he twined their fingers together and led Zach

from the kitchen and down a short hallway.

Panic tried to climb up Zach’s throat, and he gulped it back down. What had made

him think he could handle this evening anyway? Because he had a plan, that was what.

It was just dinner, right? They’d go to a restaurant, a very public place where

other people could see them. They’d sit down, eat their food, maybe drink some wine,

and talk. No big deal.

Afterward, he would take Keith home. He would not go inside when Keith asked

him. He would not touch him or hold his hand. And he would not, under any

circumstances, kiss Keith Harte. Only lovers kissed, and he was not Keith’s lover.

So that had been his plan. No touching. No kissing. No problem.

Then Keith had kissed him at the door, and the plan, along with all Zach’s good

intentions, was shot straight to hell.

A small lamp on the bedside table cast a pool of pale golden light over the snowy

mound of pillows. The bed was neatly made, the sheet turned back the way it was in

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fancy hotels, as if he’d been expected. Once again, the butterflies in Zach’s belly started

their dance. He paused halfway between the door and the bed. A grin tugged at his lips.

Keith turned to him. Uncertainty flashed in those pretty eyes. “What’s funny?”

Zach shook his head. “It’s nothing.”

Keith slipped his arms around Zach’s neck and pressed close. “Tell me.”

“I was wondering,” Zach slid his arms around Keith’s waist, “if you always keep

your bedroom this neat, or were you just that sure of me?”

“Not sure, just hopeful.” Keith rubbed his cheek against Zach’s. “Mmm, you

shaved.”

Keith hadn’t shaved, and the light scrape of beard stubble against his freshly

shaven skin went straight to Zach’s crotch.

Turning his head, Zach once more captured Keith’s lips. His hands slid down

Keith’s back to his ass, over his hips, and back up as Zach feasted, drinking in the man’s

flavor, the taste making him a little giddy and a lot reckless, as he’d feared it might.

This was not how it was supposed to go, Zach berated himself, even as he

devoured the quiet sighs and whimpers that fed from Keith’s mouth into his. He should

be explaining why they couldn’t get involved. Except Keith wasn’t asking for

involvement. Hadn’t he just offered Zach a no-strings fuck? And wasn’t that every gay

man’s dream, to have a beautiful, slutty boy toy who would spread his legs with no

expectations for tomorrow?

“Hey.” Keith’s lips brushed his ear.

“Hmm?”

Keith leaned back in Zach’s arms. “Why are you frowning?” His thumb rubbed at

the place between Zach’s eyes like he could smooth away the lines. “Did I do

something?”

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Everything about this man felt so right, and that was so wrong. He was so wrong

to take what Keith offered when he had nothing to give in return.

Zach smiled, trying to erase the frown for Keith’s sake if not for his own. “No,

you’re fine. Perfect. Except, let’s get some of these clothes off. I want to see you.”

“Sure.” Golden lashes lowered, and Keith took hold of the hem of his T-shirt. He

lifted it, revealing several inches of taut, flat belly.

Zach’s gaze followed the narrow line of sandy hair until it disappeared into the

waistband of low-slung jeans. The outline of Keith’s erection stood out clearly beneath

the worn denim. Zach’s mouth watered. Tonight he would taste Keith instead of

fantasizing about it.

Before Keith could pull the shirt off, Zach stopped him.

“Let me.” He took hold of the material and slowly lifted it, revealing, inch by

tantalizing inch, that leanly muscled torso. “Lift your arms.”

Obediently Keith raised his arms.

Zach pulled the T-shirt up over his head. In the moment while Keith’s face was

covered by the material, Zach shut his eyes and thought of Jay.

Forgive me. I need this, need him, just this once.

Even as the thought crossed his mind, something told him once was not going to

be nearly enough.

“My turn.” Keith reached for the buttons on Zach’s shirt. “Mmm, nothing quite as

sexy as a white button-down—unless it’s cufflinks, that is.” One by one he flipped open

the buttons, his fingers sliding between fabric and flesh as he went. “Do you own any

shirts with French cuffs?”

“Afraid not.” Zach wondered if Keith knew what those “accidental” caresses were

doing to him. Something told him Keith did, and the idea thrilled him.

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Zach let Keith pull off his shirt. Then he shucked his pants and toed off his shoes.

But when Keith reached for the button of his own jeans, Zach batted his hands away.

“Wait.”

“For what?”

“This.” Hooking his fingers through Keith’s belt loops, Zach tugged him over to

the bed. He sat on the edge and positioned Keith in the vee between his legs. “I want to

taste you, angel.” He lifted his gaze to Keith’s. “That all right with you?”

Keith nodded. “Just don’t make me come.”

Zach chuckled. “Oh, baby, you’re going to come all right, and I’m going to suck

down every drop. Then you’re going to spread for me, and I’m going to fuck you till

you scream my name.”

Keith’s cheeks flushed. “Oh.”

Zach lifted a brow. “It’s what you want, right?” He opened the button of Keith’s

jeans and slowly slid the zipper down. “Unless you’re having second thoughts.”

Christ, he was so beautiful, skin flushed, eyes bright with lust, lips red from

kissing. If Keith backed out now, Zach thought he might die on the spot. His cock

throbbed, and his balls felt heavy and full.

“No second thoughts.” Keith shifted the tiniest bit closer. “Do it. Suck me. Let me

come in your mouth.”

Keith braced his hands on Zach’s shoulders as Zach drew his prick out of his jeans

and shoved them down. He blew lightly, then flicked his tongue over the sensitive

head.

God, he tasted so sweet.

Keith shivered. His fingers flexed, then dug into Zach’s shoulders. “Zach.”

“Mmm, you taste so good, baby. I knew you would.” Zach slid his lips over the

head of Keith’s cock and slowly, so slowly, swallowed him to the root.

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His dick throbbed. Need coiled tight in his belly. It slithered down and around his

balls until the pressure was close to unbearable.

Keith moaned as Zach began to bob his head. Up and down. Up and down. He

dragged his tongue up the sensitive underside of Keith’s dick, licking along the big

vein.

He swirled his tongue around the head, then dipped inside, teasing and coaxing

more of that sweetness from the slit.

Now that he was here, with the silky hardness of Keith’s cock sliding over his

tongue and the promise of so much more, Zach wondered how he’d ever thought he

could have resisted. And why it had seemed so important that he should.

Because you’re damaged goods, the all-too-familiar voice in his head whispered.

Because you bring tragedy to the people you love, and Keith doesn’t need that. He

doesn’t deserve that. How long will it be before you wreck Keith’s life just like you

wrecked Jay’s?

Shut up. Zach slammed a mental door on that vicious whisper and turned all his

attention back to Keith.

“God, Zach. Baby, so good.” Keith’s fingers fisted in his hair, the slight pain

helping to clear his mind.

Zach slid two fingers into his mouth, getting them good and wet. He slipped his

hand between Keith’s legs and teased his perineum with the tip of one finger before

moving back to his entrance. He stroked the puckered opening, then pressed. His finger

slipped inside.

Keith gasped. His grip on Zach’s hair tightened. His head fell back, and his lips

formed a silent O.

Zach wiggled his finger. Keith was so tight, so hot and so silky and so goddamn

tight. He could hardly wait to feel that on his cock. But he would wait. By the time he

slid his dick into Keith’s ass, Zach wanted him writhing and begging, pleading to be

fucked just the way Zach had fantasized.

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Slowly he worked a second finger in, keeping up the steady suction on Keith’s

cock as he searched for the spot that he knew would send Keith over the edge. He

found and stroked it.

“I’m coming, Zach. Oh. God.”

Keith’s cock pulsed against Zach’s tongue. A moment later, his mouth filled with

the salty sweetness of cum. Greedily he drank it down, sucking until the last drops were

gone, leaving only the aftertaste in his mouth and throat.

Zach released Keith’s cock as the man collapsed into his arms. He caught him

easily and held him close for a minute before turning and laying him on the bed.

Keith’s eyelids felt like they weighed a pound a piece. Forcing them open, he

smiled up at Zach. God, the man was so fucking sexy sitting there on his bed, naked,

hair tousled, with that smug, self-satisfied grin and a drop of cum clinging to his lower

lip. Keith wanted to lick it away, but right then he didn’t have the energy to move.

“What’s so funny?” Zach touched a fingertip to the corner of Keith’s mouth.

“I was thinking how I feel like my brain just got sucked out through my dick, and

how great that is.” Turning his head, Keith nipped at Zach’s finger. “Either that, or I’m

drunk, which I can’t be since we haven’t had any wine yet.”

From his place on the edge of the bed, Zach leaned over him. “Is that a hint that I

should go and get you some wine?”

Keith shook his head. Catching a lock of Zach’s hair, Keith tugged. “C’mere.”

“What for?” Zach let himself be pulled closer, but stopped with their lips a breath

apart.

“Because you’ve got cum on your lip, and I want to lick it off.”

Zach groaned. “Christ, you’re going to kill me, saying stuff like that.” He stretched

out on the bed beside Keith and pulled him close.

“And why is that?”

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Zach took Keith’s hand and wrapped his fingers around his cock, still hard as steel

and straining against his belly. “Because I haven’t come yet, not like some people.”

“Oh, well, let me take care of that for you.” Keith started to slide down toward

Zach’s cock, lips parted in anticipation.

“Not like that.” Zach pushed Keith over on his back, then rolled on top of him,

trapping his long, thick cock between their bodies.

Keith squirmed.

“You want this, angel?” Zach thrust against Keith’s belly. “You want my big cock

up your tight little ass?”

“Oh, yeah,” Keith breathed. He spread his legs and thrust his hips against Zach,

though his own cock had yet to recover. “Do it to me. Fuck me.”

Zach rubbed his cheek against Keith’s. His words were a sexy growl in Keith’s ear.

“You going to get hard for me again, my slut? I want your cock nice and hard when I

fuck you.”

“Whatever you want, I’ll do it. Please, just give it to me. I want your cock up my

ass.”

Zach kissed him. Long and slow, the kiss tasted like cum. Keith’s dick twitched.

He sucked on Zach’s tongue, greedy for the flavor of his own spunk and the burn and

stretch of Zach’s cock in his ass.

Zach broke the kiss. “You got condoms and lube?”

“In the nightstand. Let me up, and I’ll get them.”

“I’ll get them.” Zach rolled off him.

Keith heard the drawer open. “I’m clean, in case you were wondering.”

“Me too.” A bottle of lube dropped on the mattress next to Keith’s hip. “I’ll wear a

condom anyway.”

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Heat crept into Keith’s cheeks. “Sure. I didn’t mean…you know.” God, Zach

would think he really was a slut, and stupid with it. “I mean, I always use condoms. I

just thought you’d want to know.”

Zach didn’t say anything for a long moment. “Why? Because I swallowed your

spunk on the first date? You think that means—”

“I don’t think anything.”

Zach turned over, a condom packet in his hand, and pinned Keith with a look. “I

was with the same man for ten years.”

Keith heard the defensive note in Zach’s voice. He really hadn’t meant anything.

But clearly he’d said the wrong thing.

“How long ago did you break up?”

“We didn’t. He died.”

“How?” Keith winced. The question had popped out before he had time to censor

it. “Sorry, that was incredibly rude.”

“It was a car accident. Drunk driver hit him, then drove away.”

Zach’s voice was flat and toneless, as if relating the plot of a not-especially-good

movie or book rather than the circumstances of his partner’s death.

Shit.

“I’m sorry.”

“You didn’t know.”

Fuck. Everything felt suddenly, horribly awkward and wrong. Keith wracked his

brain for some way to get them back on track.

“So.” Zach flipped the condom into the air and caught it. “You going to get

yourself ready, or what?

“Yeah. Sure.” Keith grabbed the lube and flipped it open. After squeezing a

generous amount into his hand, he got to his knees.

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This was not how it was supposed to go. Whatever easy attraction that had begun

to grow between them had been crushed by something he couldn’t even name. Now the

very thing he’d wanted so much five minutes before seemed cold and impersonal, like

stranger fucking.

Reaching between his legs, Keith smeared lube into his crease and around his

hole.

Should he try again to explain or apologize? Probably not. Zach had shut down,

his eyes going cool and remote, as if a wall had gone up between them. And nothing

Keith could say would likely bring that wall down.

About to plunge his fingers into his own ass, Keith went still as a thought

occurred to him. “You know, I really didn’t mean anything when I said that stuff before

about being clean.” He slid a glance at Zach.

Zach lay still, the unopened condom still in his hand. He said nothing.

“It’s just that…” Keith took hold of his cock. “…and you might think I’m a slut for

saying so…” He began slowly stroking his dick as the fingers of his other hand

massaged the lube around his hole. “When I fantasize about it, you always fuck me

bare.” He slid two fingers into his ass as he increased the tempo of his strokes. “Ever

since I first saw you, I’ve been imagining you bending me over the bar in the café and

shoving your beautiful cock up my ass.”

Keith’s heart was pounding. He began to rock, fucking and jacking. And talking.

Like a slut. When he dared a glance, he saw that Zach was watching him.

Keith’s nerve nearly failed him, but he steeled himself. His cheeks burned. He was

taking a chance, putting himself out there like some kind of fantasy fuck-toy, a thing

he’d never before dared with anyone. Now here he was doing it on the first date with a

man he hardly knew, a man he wanted enough that the risk didn’t matter. And it

seemed to be working. So there was no room for embarrassment. And something in his

gut told him he could trust this man.

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From the corner of his eye he saw Zach tear open the condom. Oh, God, Zach was

going to fuck him. Keith shut his eyes and went on.

“You hold me down across the bar, your fingers dig into my hips, and you slam

your cock into my ass over and over. You’re so big, and I’m tight, and it hurts a little,

but I beg you to keep it up, to take me hard because I’m loving it.”

Keith pumped his dick with long, sure strokes as he pictured the scene in his head.

He slid a third finger into his ass, fucking and stretching his hole, imagining they were

Zach’s fingers, or Zach’s dick. “And then you speed up, slamming me hard, fucking me

like some kind of slut. Then I feel it. Your cock swells in my ass, and you shoot your

load deep inside me. And I—”

Zach pounced. Keith’s breath whooshed out as he was pushed facedown on the

bed, his arms yanked over his head, his wrists pinned by one of Zach’s big hands.

“Is that what you want?” Zach growled in his ear. “You want me to fuck you like

some nasty, slutty fuck-toy? You want it hard and fast, huh?” Zach grabbed a handful

of Keith’s hair and yanked his head to the side. “Answer me. Tell me it’s what you

want.” His teeth sank into the sensitive juncture of neck and shoulder.

Keith whimpered. He did want it, just like that. Sure, he’d been poking at Zach,

teasing and trying to bring him back from that faraway place he’d gone. But, yeah, this

was exactly what he wanted. And if that made him a slut, so be it. He was Zach’s slut,

at least for tonight.

The head of Zach’s cock pushed against his entrance. Keith tried to push back, but

Zach’s weight pinned him to the mattress. Immobile. Helpless. And so fucking turned

on he thought he might implode.

Zach pushed, not the brutal thrust Keith had braced for, but a steady pressure,

insisting but not hurting. The head popped through that tight ring of muscle, and Keith

gasped.

“Aaah.” His spine arched, and he tried to adjust all at once, the burn and stretch so

intense as Zach’s dick filled him up. Inch by inch Zach pressed into Keith’s ass until

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Keith was sure he could feel the head of Zach’s prick in the center of his belly. Then he

felt the scratch of Zach’s pubes and the weight of Zach’s balls against his ass.

They both stilled. Zach’s heart hammered against Keith’s back, almost

indistinguishable from the pounding of his own heart.

“God, you’re so tight,” Zach breathed. His lips brushed Keith’s shoulder. “So, so

tight, my beautiful, slutty angel.”

Just when Keith thought he would lose his mind if Zach didn’t move, Zach

withdrew a little, then pushed back in. Keith groaned. “Please.”

Zach paused. “Are you okay?”

“Yes, just…please, more?”

Zach let out a breath and began to move.

Keith closed his eyes and concentrated on the sensation of having that gorgeous

cock inside him. It hurt but felt good at the same time. Good, hell. It felt amazing, better

than anything Keith had fantasized.

Zach dragged his cock over Keith’s gland, sending lightning bolts of pleasure up

his spine and down into his balls.

Keith’s dick throbbed, trapped as it was against the sheet. He wriggled, trying for

some increased friction.

Zach’s breath rasped in his ear as he took Keith with one deep thrust after another,

working him hard, slamming in deep.

Keith’s balls pulled tight, and sensations exploded at the base of his spine. “Zach.

Coming. Now. Ah, fuck.”

“That’s it,” Zach panted, his thrusts growing short and sharp. “Come for me,

baby. Give it up. Do it now.”

Keith’s muscles clamped down, his orgasm firing up from his sac and out his dick.

Zach roared wordlessly and shoved in deep, holding himself there, right there, as

his cock swelled and pulsed against Keith’s hole.

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For a long time afterward, their harsh breathing was the only sound in the room.

Finally Zach moved, his cock slipping from Keith’s body. He rolled over and gathered

Keith into his arms. His hand trembled as he stroked sweaty hair back from Keith’s

face. “Did I hurt you, baby?”

Keith shook his head and curled closer in Zach’s arms. “You didn’t hurt me. I

liked it.”

Zach chuckled and rested his cheek against the top of Keith’s head. “Christ, you

really are something else.”

Keith grinned. It was all he could manage. “Right back at you, babe.”

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| The Shape Of A Heart

Chapter Six

Zach let himself in, then closed the door, pocketing the keys. The front hall was

dark, but he didn’t bother with lights.

Making his way as much by instinct as memory, he crossed the living room and

flopped on the couch. Now that he was home he’d lost all that drowsy, after-sex

sleepiness he’d had while still in Keith’s bed.

Keith. Just the thought of him had Zach’s juices stirring anew. And the guilt, the

very thing that had driven him from that bed and into the frigid winter night, stirred

along with the desire.

It had been a good evening, no question about that. Good food, good

conversation, good sex, hell, great sex, and laughter. He couldn’t remember when he

had laughed so much.

Ah but that was a lie. Of course he remembered. Jay was the only one who had

ever been able to make him laugh like that.

Jay and now Keith.

Keith with his great laugh and his sweet smile and his nasty-boy talk during sex.

Christ, but it had been hard getting out of that bed. Though he hadn’t asked, Zach knew

Keith had wanted him to stay. And he’d wanted to stay, maybe too much. It was that,

more than anything else, that had gotten him moving.

Now here he sat alone in the dark while—

The phone rang, startling Zach out of his reverie.

Who the hell could be calling at nearly two in the morning?

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Zach grabbed the cordless phone from its base on the end table and punched the

Talk button.

“Hello?”

“Hey.”

It was Keith. Zach felt the smile curving his lips.

“Hey your own self.”

“You forgot your cell phone,” Keith said.

“Did I?” Automatically Zach felt his right front pocket where his phone lived. Sure

enough it was empty but for his keys and a handful of change.

“I found it on the nightstand after you left. I didn’t want you to think you lost it.”

There was a pause, and Zach knew he should fill it, say something.

“Okay, I appreciate that.”

Oh yeah, that was great. Way to go, asshole.

So he added, “I had a really good time tonight.”

“Me too,” Keith said.

Zach heard the warmth in Keith’s voice, the smile.

“It’s starting to—”

“I didn’t—”

They both stopped talking.

“Go ahead,” Zach said.

“No, you go ahead.”

“I was just going to say it started snowing on my way home.”

“Did it?”

“Mm-hmm.”

There was another pause, and Zach could hear Keith breathing on the other end of

the line.

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“Are you in bed?” Zach asked.

“Yeah. What about you? I didn’t wake you up, did I?”

“No, I just got home a few minutes ago.”

“I wish you would have stayed.” Keith laughed a little. “Maybe I shouldn’t say so

but…”

“Why not?”

“I don’t know. It sounds kind of needy, I guess.”

Zach opened his mouth and started to say how he didn’t spend the night after sex.

Started to say once again that he wasn’t in the market for a boyfriend or a relationship,

that he had nothing to give. But what came out was something completely different.

“All you would have had to do was ask.”

“Yeah?” Keith sounded both surprised and pleased.

“Yeah.” Now that the words were out, there was no taking them back, and Zach

found he didn’t want to anyway.

“I wish you were here beside me right now. The bed’s still so warm.”

Keith’s voice had dropped into a low register, the words heavy with undisguised

need.

“Me too,” Zach said, meaning it.

Toeing off his shoes, Zach pushed back on the couch and got comfortable. He

propped the phone between his ear and shoulder and palmed his half-hard dick

through his jeans.

But just as he settled in, his gaze fell on the picture over the fireplace. It was an

eight-by-ten, blown up and framed because Jay had liked it so much, it showed the two

of them on their last vacation, less than a month before Jay’s death.

They had gone to Niagara Falls because Jay wanted to. The picture showed them

standing with their arms around each other and the falls in the background. The day

had been rainy, Zach remembered, at least until the moment just before the picture was

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taken when the sun burst through the clouds and made a sparkling rainbow from the

mist.

He could still feel it, the cool mist on his skin and the warmth of the man in his

arms, the man he would soon lose to a dark road and a drunk driver.

And suddenly Zach couldn’t speak, swamped by a wave of grief so huge he

feared he might drown in it. His throat closed, his eyes stung, and his nose felt hot

inside.

“Zach? Are you still there?”

“I have to go.” Zach choked out the words and, without waiting for a reply,

punched the Disconnect button and set down the phone, ending the call.

Rather than fight them, he let the tears come, knowing from experience they

would come anyway. Besides, there was no one here to see.

Whether he cried for minutes or hours he couldn’t say. Grief had a way of

distorting time and stretching it into infinity. He cried for Jay, for the loneliness and

loss. He cried for himself and the emptiness of the past two years. He cried for Keith,

alone in his bed, maybe still holding the phone in his hand and wondering what the hell

he’d gotten himself into. He cried until, exhausted from grief and confusion, he finally

fell asleep.

* * * *

Gray morning light bled through the kitchen window as Keith opened the oven

and checked the cherry-vanilla scones. They looked great and smelled just as good. His

stomach growled, and he reached for an oven mitt. As he transferred the scones to a

wire rack to cool, the cheery voice of the morning news anchor prattled on from the TV

in the other room. Keith dumped the baking sheet in the sink. He would deal with it

later.

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After switching off the TV, he returned to the bedroom to finish getting ready for

work. The mingled scents of sweat and cum still hung in the air. Keith inhaled deeply.

His dick twitched and began to fill.

He grinned. Down, boy.

His date with Zach the night before could not have gone better. After that

amazing, blue-ribbon fuck, they’d slept for about an hour, and then Keith had slipped

out of bed and finished making dinner. Thank goodness he’d chosen a relatively simple

and quick menu. They ate the salmon and angel hair in bed and shared the bottle of

chardonnay Zach had brought. The dark chocolate mousse had been the perfect

complement to the dinner, and eating it in bed with Zach had proven even more

decadent than Keith could have imagined.

The mousse-play had led to making out, which in turn led to more fucking, this

time with Keith on his back, his ankles locked behind Zach’s back, those gorgeous blue

eyes gazing down into his as he came for the third time that evening.

After grabbing his boots from the closet, Keith lowered himself gingerly to the

edge of the bed and winced. Every time he sat down for the next day or two, he was

going to be reminded of Zach. And that was so all right.

“All you had to do was ask.”

Zach’s words came back to him as he tightened the laces and tied them in a double

knot. Oh, he’d wanted Zach to stay and had very nearly asked him, then chickened out.

Next time, Keith promised himself. Next time he would ask.

He returned to the kitchen and boxed up the scones before pulling on his winter

jacket. The keys in the right front pocket bumped against his hip. He picked up the box

of baked goods, tucked it under his arm, and headed for the door.

With his hand on the doorknob, he paused. Had he closed all the windows?

Probably, but it wouldn’t hurt to check. After setting the box back on the table, he

walked through the apartment, checking windows as he went.

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In the living room he found the window was not only not locked, but it was open

about an inch. Had he opened that one? He didn’t think so, but maybe Zach had.

Maybe. Probably.

Keith went to the window, closed and locked it, then lowered the blinds.

Yeah, next time Zach would stay, he was sure of it. The hour he’d spent sleeping

in Zach’s arms had only whetted his appetite for more.

He missed sharing his bed. And not only the sex, but all of it—the physical

closeness, the intimate moments after lovemaking, the casual touches and meaningful

looks.

Keith sighed. He had a romantic heart, and there was no changing that. Even at

age thirty and despite his past experiences with men, he still dreamed of finding a man

he could make a life with.

Was Zach Jensen that man? It was way too soon to tell.

God, he needed to slow down. They’d had one date, and already he was moving

too fast, already looking for deep and abiding love where there might only be great sex.

Not that there was anything wrong with great sex. But for him it wasn’t enough.

Something told him it might not be enough for Zach either. Still, he needed to take care

and keep a firm hold on his heart, a thing that had proven hard for him in the past and

for which he had paid dearly.

Satisfied that all was as secure as he could make it, he grabbed the box of baked

goods, locked the door behind him and descended the front steps. Pausing for a

moment, he inhaled deeply the frozen February air before beginning the short walk to

Bean Readin’, a place he was starting to think of as a sort of home.

Keith walked quickly through the quiet of the early-morning streets, still lit by

electricity even though the sky had begun to lighten. As he rounded the corner, he

spotted the sign on the front of the bookstore, and the sight made him smile. Shifting

the box into his other arm, Keith dug in his pocket for his key ring. Yesterday Rhonna

had given him his own key to the store.

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“So you can come and go whenever you like without Zach or me having to be

here,” she’d said, handing it over. Then she’d smiled. “And you can have my coffee

ready for me when I get here.”

Her trust in him, and Zach’s too, meant a lot. This town and the people here were

turning out to be even better for him than he had dared to hope.

Keith fitted the key into the lock and turned it. But as he swung the door open, he

caught a sudden movement from the corner of his eye. Letting the door fall closed, he

turned around, his pulse speeding up. Halfway up the block, the lone figure of a man

was slipping out of sight down a small side street.

Though he couldn’t see the man’s face, something about his build, or maybe the

way he moved, was chillingly familiar. Keith’s heart froze, and he caught his breath as a

wave of dread washed over him. It couldn’t be. Please, don’t let it be him. Not again.

The wind blew, scattering a wave of dry leaves before it as the streetlights winked

out. And that quickly, the figure was gone.

The memory of that man haunted him as he went about his work in the coffee bar.

No matter how many times he told himself the man wasn’t Bryan, Keith couldn’t shake

the feeling of recognition or the fear that came with it.

He said nothing to Zach or Rhonna about the man he thought he’d seen. Even if

he wanted to, which he didn’t, it wouldn’t be an easy or simple story to tell. And he

could imagine their reaction.

Yeah, Zach, so this morning on my way here I thought I saw my ex-boyfriend skulking

around outside. What ex? Oh, just the one I’ve been trying to get away from for the past three

years. But don’t worry—when I turned around for a better look, he was gone, if he’d even ever

been there to begin with.

Yeah, that would be good. Zach would probably think he was a lunatic, seeing

phantom old boyfriends lurking in the shadows.

He tried to ignore the voice in his head, the one that whispered that Bryan had

found him before. But that was before. This time he’d done a better job of covering his

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tracks, or he’d thought so anyway. It hadn’t been easy leaving the restaurant he loved,

where his star had risen steadily until at twenty-eight he had made head chef and

surely would, in a few years, have saved enough money to buy the place from its

current owner.

But that dream was long gone and with it most of the money, used up by the

constant relocating and switching jobs, all in an attempt to get free of that crazy bastard

he’d once been so sure was “the one.” And how wrong had he been about that?

By two that afternoon, Keith had almost succeeded in silencing that voice through

sheer force of will. Most likely he hadn’t even seen a man at all, just some trick of that

early-morning light, the kind of shadowy half-light that could make a person see things

that weren’t there. Or see things that were there as different from what they really were.

Yeah, that was probably it. What he’d seen were shadows and not a man at all.

And even if he’d seen a guy, it probably wasn’t Bryan, just someone who looked

like him. A lot like him.

“Keith? Hey, honey, how’s it going?”

Keith looked up as Rhonna collapsed onto a stool at the counter. “Hey, Rho. Tea?”

She nodded. “Please. You looked like you were a hundred miles away.”

“Just thinking is all.” Keith dropped an Earl Gray teabag into her favorite mug,

then filled it with boiling water before sliding it across the counter to her.

She smiled and swirled the bag around in the cup. “Care to share?”

Rhonna reminded him of a younger version of his mom—smart and funny, with a

sharp tongue and a low tolerance for bullshit. Though he suspected she would be glad

to listen, he didn’t want to burden her with his troubles.

He wracked his brain for an answer, one she might believe.

“I was thinking about the signing tomorrow night. Trying to decide how many of

those mini cinnamon buns I should make.” Keith held his breath, waiting for her to call

bullshit.

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“Mmm, I love cinnamon buns.” She took a tentative sip from her cup. “I’m sure

whatever you decide will be fine. As long as you hide a couple for me, that is.”

“It’s a deal.”

She smiled. “Hopefully everyone will be so busy stuffing themselves with your

terrific food that they won’t notice how I didn’t get all the shelves dusted and

straightened in time.”

“I could give you a hand with that, if you want. It’s kind of quiet in here right

now.”

“You’re a doll to offer.” She slid off the stool and picked up her tea. “You know, if

I were fifteen years younger and a guy, I would totally do you.”

And they both laughed.

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| The Shape Of A Heart

Chapter Seven

On the afternoon of the book signing, Keith left Bean Readin’ around one o’clock

to prepare the food for that night. As he walked to his apartment, he admired his

surroundings. The bare trees wore a light dusting of snow that shimmered like

diamonds in the sun. The sun itself shone brilliantly in a faded denim sky kept

company by a few high white clouds. And he saw no phantom ex-boyfriends

disappearing around a corner or peering out from behind a bush.

For the past two days he’d watched, studying the faces of people he passed on the

street, of those who came into the bookstore and the ones who ordered coffee or tea.

Despite his extreme vigilance, he’d seen no one who even resembled Bryan, let alone

the man himself, and he’d started to let himself relax.

By six that evening he had returned to the store with a variety of small pastries

and finger sandwiches as well as bite-size hot and cold hors d’oeuvres, all of which he’d

made that afternoon in his own tiny kitchen. The reading and subsequent signing

would begin at seven, which left him ample time to set up, make a fresh urn of coffee,

and generally get his act together before his first public event as manager of Bean

Readin’s coffee bar.

Keith finished arranging the minicroissants on a tray and added a couple of

luscious red strawberries for garnish, then stepped back for a final look.

Perfect. Almost. Maybe a couple more strawberries for extra color…

Keith snagged three more strawberries from the fruit tray and leaned in to settle

them among the croissants.

“Hey, those look really good.”

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Keith jumped. His hand struck the edge of the tray. It skidded several inches along

the counter, then tipped, its contents sliding sideways.

“Whoa.” Zach lunged, caught the tray, and righted it, saving all but a handful of

the croissants from ending up on the floor.

“Shit,” Keith swore. His hands shook—did Zach see?—as he reached for the tray.

Okay, so maybe he was still a little jumpy. “Here, let me—”

“I got it.” Zach pushed the tray well back out of harm’s way, then turned that keen

blue gaze on Keith.

Damn it. Of course Zach had seen.

Keith ducked his head, avoiding Zach’s gaze, and crouched down to gather the

croissants that had fallen on the floor. He swept the crumbs together, picked up the

damaged baked goods, and stood. Still looking anywhere but at Zach, he tried to edge

past. A large hand landed on his arm, the grip gentle but no-nonsense.

“Hey.” Zach’s voice was soft, but underneath Keith heard steely determination.

“You want to tell me what’s going on here?”

No.

He shrugged, dug for a smile, and pasted it on. “Hell if I know. I’ve been doing

shit like that all day. I guess I have opening-night jitters. This being my first event and

all. Earlier I spilled an entire pound of coffee all over the floor. It looked like we were

invaded by an ant colony. Good thing no customers were here at the time.”

Zach said nothing, just stood there letting Keith rattle on and on. Keith heard

himself babbling, knew he sounded like a moron, but couldn’t stop. When he finally ran

out of steam, the silence in the café pressed in around them.

Damn.

After what felt like an eternity, but couldn’t have been more than a minute or two,

Zach asked, “You done?”

Keith nodded.

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“So you want to cut the bull and tell me what’s got you all wound up? You’ve

been nervous as a cat these last couple of days.”

“I told you, I’m nervous about all the people coming in tonight. I want everybody

to like everything.”

“Uh-huh.” Zach picked up a croissant from the tray, bit in, chewed, and

swallowed. “Food’s good.” He leaned forward and touched their lips together in a brief,

chaste kiss that, nevertheless, warmed Keith down to his toes. “Barista boy’s good too.”

God.

Keith reached out, but Zach stepped back. He caught Keith’s hand and squeezed.

“Later, angel.”

Someone cleared their throat.

Keith tore his gaze away from Zach.

Rhonna stood in the archway, her eyes alight with interest. She was grinning.

“Zach, Jon Silverman is here. He wants to know if we can rearrange the chairs,” Rhonna

said as if she hadn’t seen them kissing. “He says the way we have it set up is too rigid

and structured. Says he’d prefer everyone to sit in a circle on the floor.”

“A circle on the floor? What the hell?”

“I have no idea. But he’s being rather insistent.”

Zach blew out a breath and laughed. “Jesus H. Christ, a circle on the floor. Let me

go talk to him.” He turned and followed Rhonna out of the café.

Keith watched him go. He licked his lips and imagined he could still taste that

kiss.

When he emerged from the café ten minutes later, carrying a tray of tea

sandwiches, Keith saw that Jon Silverman had gotten his way, sort of. The chairs, which

they’d set up in neat rows earlier that day, had been rearranged into a messy,

haphazard semicircle. At its center sat a middle-aged man with a long gray-streaked

ponytail and a pair of John Lennon glasses. He perched cross-legged on a cushion, eyes

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closed, seemingly unaffected by the people who stepped around and over him as they

got settled in their seats.

Rhonna caught Keith’s eye. Hurrying over, she took the tray from him.

“What’s he doing?” Keith asked, pitching his voice for her ears alone.

“He’s preparing.” She rolled her eyes heavenward in a don’t-even-go-there

expression, before turning and offering the tray to an elderly lesbian couple, regulars at

the Tuesday-night book club.

“Can I have your attention, please?” Zach’s voice, rich and authoritative, cut

across the murmur of conversation. He paused while, little by little, the audience fell

silent.

Someone coughed. A chair creaked, followed by the rustle and sigh of several

dozen people settling into their seats. A few took their cues from Silverman and sat on

the floor.

“I’d like to introduce a man who is something of a local celebrity.”

While Zach continued with his introduction, Keith slipped back into the café.

Humming softly to himself, he checked the coffee urn and found it still half full. He

refilled the bowl that held the packets of raw sugar and set out another two handfuls of

the chocolate spoons everyone seemed to like so well.

A round of polite applause drifted in from the store, and Keith heard Jon

Silverman begin to read.

By ten thirty, the place had nearly emptied out, though a few people, including

Silverman, were still hanging around. They sipped coffee or tea and chatted as they

browsed the shelves or just delayed their departure.

Keith had nearly finished cleaning up the café when Rhonna appeared. The

evening had been a great success, and Keith gave her a smile.

She didn’t return the gesture, and Keith felt a frisson of nerves ripple through him.

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“I have something for you.” She walked to the counter and laid something on it. “I

had just finished ringing up a sale for Dotty Peterson when a guy I’d never seen before

came up to the counter and gave me this.” She pinned him with a look. “He said he was

an old friend of yours and would I mind giving it to you.”

Keith glanced down and stopped breathing.

An envelope lay on the counter between them. His name was printed on the front

in neat block letters. Except where his last name should be, someone had drawn a heart

with an arrow piercing its center. Only one person had ever written his name like that.

Bryan.

“I asked him his name, but he said you’d know who it was from.” Rhonna was

watching him. The expression in her eyes was not friendly.

Keith swallowed. He forced himself to pick up the envelope, though he would

rather have picked up a hissing rattlesnake. “Thanks.”

“Keith, you know, I’ve known Zach a long time. He’s like a brother to me.” She

paused. When he said nothing, she continued. “He’s had a rough time these last couple

of years, and I’d hate to see him get hurt. Know what I mean?”

Her message was crystal clear. He nodded.

“Good.”

He opened his mouth to tell her…what? That his psycho ex-boyfriend had been in

the bookstore and left him this little present? That, no matter what, he had no intention

of hurting Zach, not for anything?

But she was already turning away, so he said nothing, only slipped the hated

envelope into his back pocket.

Once she was gone, he escaped into the bathroom. With his heart hammering, he

drew out the envelope and tore it open. His hands shook so badly that he dropped it,

and its contents spilled out on the bathroom floor.

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Keith knelt quickly, though in a way it felt more like falling. Several dozen

photographs lay scattered across the tile. He picked up the top one.

The focus was bad, but he recognized himself. He stood at the entrance of the

bookstore, a box under one arm, his back to the camera. Though he couldn’t see much

more than that, his gut told him it had been taken that morning when he thought he’d

seen Bryan. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up, and he reached for another

picture.

In this one too, the image was blurry, like the photographer had been too hurried

to focus properly. It was him again, standing at the produce counter in the grocery

store, a shopping basket in one hand and a bag of salad greens in the other. This one

had been taken on the day he’d gone shopping for his dinner with Zach.

Bile rose in Keith’s throat. He swallowed it down. He would not throw up. He had

to hold his shit together at least until he got home and could fall apart in private.

Unable to face the rest of the pictures, he averted his eyes and swept the

photographs into a stack and stuffed them back in the envelope.

Tears clogged his nose and throat. They stung the backs of his eyes and nearly

spilled over. He blinked hard. Goddamn it! He would not let that asshole make him cry.

He leaned his forehead against the cool tile wall and took several long, shaky breaths.

Bryan had found him. Again.

Keith stayed that way, kneeling there on the floor, for as long as he dared. Sooner

or later someone was going to come looking for him, or someone would need to use the

bathroom.

C’mon, man, get it together.

Keith pushed himself to his feet. As he did, he caught a glimpse of his reflection in

the mirror. He looked ghastly. No way could he risk letting Zach—or anybody, for that

matter—see him like that.

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He splashed icy water on his face, then ran his fingers through his hair and called

it good. He tried a smile. It looked more like a rictus of agony. Okay, so no smiling. He

didn’t feel much like smiling anyway. Taking a breath, he opened the door and peered

out.

No one was around. Good.

Keith stepped out of the bathroom. From somewhere up front, he heard Zach

laugh. Desire coiled tight in his belly even as tears stung his eyes. He blinked hard. A

single hot tear spilled over and ran down his cheek.

Goddamnit!

At that moment he wanted nothing more than to throw himself into Zach’s arms,

tell him everything—about Bryan and the pictures and the stalking, all of it—and ask

for help. Because Zach would help him, he knew, which was why he wouldn’t ask. He

had no right to involve Zach any more than he already had. Bryan was his problem, not

Zach’s.

Keith swiped the tear away with the back of his hand and turned toward the rear

of the store. He crept through the maze of shelves and into the back room. Hurrying to

the door that led into the alley, he unlocked it and slipped silently out into the darkness.

As soon as he stepped into his apartment, Keith knew something was wrong.

Gooseflesh rippled over his entire body, and he shuddered. Without even putting his

keys down, he stood utterly still and listened. Nothing.

“Bryan?”

Nothing.

Trying to look everywhere at once, he walked into the kitchen and checked the

lock on the back door. It was a dead bolt and could not be opened without a key, not

even from the inside.

Okay.

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Heart hammering, he made his way down the hall toward the bedroom. Cool air

caressed his heated cheeks. Somewhere a window was open, or broken. He never left

windows open while he was out. Oddly, this made him feel a bit better. Maybe Bryan

wasn’t here after all.

But he was here, that cowering, terrified part of himself whispered. He was here, and

you know it.

He did know it.

Okay. All right.

Keith peered into the bathroom. Everything looked normal enough. He stepped

inside and yanked back the shower curtain. Nothing. He let it fall back into place and

released a long, shaky breath.

Outside the bedroom, he paused. Cautiously he reached around the door frame

and flipped the wall switch. Light flooded the room. The curtains fluttered at the

window, but the bedroom was blessedly empty.

Then Keith saw the note. It was pinned to his pillow, attached with one of his own

knives, the biggest one, taken from the block in his kitchen. And he hadn’t even noticed

it was missing. He walked over to the bed, pulled the knife out, and picked up the note.

His hands shook so badly he could hardly read it.

Dear (and the drawing of that hated heart with the arrow),

I wanted to surprise you, but I couldn’t resist leaving you this little note. Couldn’t resist

letting you feel how close I am.

Did you like the pictures? I hope that bitch gave them to you. I wasn’t sure she would. I

took them specially so you would know I’m still watching over you. Just like I told you I would.

What made you think you could get away from me, silly boy? You never will, you know.

I saw your new boyfriend. You must be very lonely to hook up with someone so wrong for

you. Because he is just a hookup. He can’t be anything more. You know that, right? Because I
am your true love. I watched him fuck you the other night. It made me very angry. But I took the

picture anyway. Did you like it? It’s a little pornographic, I know. But I wanted you to have

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something to remember, a souvenir when the two of you aren’t together anymore. I’m so good to

you, faithless heart, and you are so undeserving!

I love being here in your bedroom. I can smell you, and it made my dick hard. Oh, which

reminds me, I left you something else, another present. Pull back the sheet, and you’ll see it. Go
on. Do it now.

I tried to wait, to save it all for you, but I couldn’t. I was too excited being in your bed.

Don’t worry, there’s plenty more where that came from, and it’s all for you, my darling.

Remember the last time I fucked you, how much you liked it? You pretended you didn’t,

that you didn’t want me, but I knew better. You hurt me, saying those things and leaving me the

way you did. But I forgive you. I thought maybe I would punish you. I still might, and it will
hurt me to do it. But you need to learn…

I’m coming back for you, Keith. It won’t be long now and we’ll be together again. Until

then, all my love.

Bryan.

Not wanting to see, but somehow compelled, Keith jerked back the comforter and

top sheet. In the middle of the bed was a wet spot. Suddenly Keith could smell it, the

sharp tang of spunk. Bryan’s spunk.

Vomit rushed up his throat. It filled his mouth, hot and bitter. He rushed to the

bathroom, fell to his knees in front of the toilet, and threw up.

He emptied his stomach of everything he’d eaten and drunk. But even when there

was nothing left, he continued to retch, the action producing nothing but thin strings of

saliva. When it was finally over, he curled up on the floor and sobbed.

He stayed there until he had nothing left—no tears, no vomit, and barely any

breath. He had to stop this, had to move, get up, get away.

Keith forced himself to his knees. He hiccupped and belched but this time nothing

came up save the sour aftertaste of sickness and fear. He stayed that way for a moment,

his head in his hands.

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He could call the police, show them the note, tell them the whole humiliating

story. They would look around, write things down, ask him questions and nod their

heads. And then they would not help him. Like the police in the last town, and the one

before that, and the one before that, had not helped him, maybe because they hadn’t

taken him seriously, who knew? No, there was no point in calling the police. He was on

his own and there was only one thing to do.

Still too shaky to stand, he began the slow crawl back to his bedroom.

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Chapter Eight

“What do you mean, he called in sick?” Zach glared at Rhonna, who was

measuring coffee beans into the grinder.

“Just what I said, he called in sick.” She put the top on and pressed the button. The

grinder roared to life, cutting off any further comment Zach might have wanted to

make and filling the café with the scent of coffee beans.

He waited till she finished and turned it off. “Was he sick last night when he left?”

“How would I know?” She poured the ground coffee into the metal basket and set

it inside the pot. “I didn’t see him leave.”

Her lips formed a thin line. He knew that face. “What’s the unhappy face for?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” She fitted the lid on the pot, then

plugged the cord into the outlet. After a few seconds, the pot began to hiss and gurgle.

“Whatever.” Zach retreated to his office. Once inside, he shut the door, punched

the computer’s Power button, and flopped into his chair.

Last night he had been more than a little disappointed when, after the last

customers had gone, he’d gone looking for Keith, only to find the café empty and silent

and no sign of his sexy, blond barista boy anywhere. Of course, he hadn’t asked Keith

to hang around after the signing. Hadn’t told him that ever since hearing his fantasy,

Zach hadn’t been able to get the image of Keith bent over the coffee bar out of his head.

When I fantasize about it, you always fuck me bare… You bend me over the bar in the café

and shove your beautiful cock up my ass… You hold me down, and you slam your cock into me

over and over… Then I feel you swell in my ass, and I feel you shoot your load deep inside me.

Christ! What a picture Keith had made, fucking and jacking and talking like one of

those pay-to-play boys on the 900 lines.

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And how badly had Zach wanted to act out that particular scenario? Shove his

bare cock balls-deep and pump a load of hot spunk up Keith’s tight ass, claiming him in

the most intimate way.

Of course, maybe he should have shared his intentions with Keith instead of

assuming, after the other night, the man would be as anxious to realize that fantasy as

he was.

“What the hell am I doing?” Zach asked Jay’s photograph. Too bad he wasn’t one

of those nutbars who believed in divine messages or that the dead could speak to you

from beyond the grave. Jay had always been able to help him find his direction. He

needed that now.

He picked up the picture and studied the beloved face. Jay had been the first real

love of his life. And part of his heart would always belong to that love. But that love,

precious as it might be, was rooted in memories, and memories didn’t keep him warm

on cold nights. Jay had said once that memories, even the best of them, were cold

comfort. They had received an invitation to a close friend’s wedding. She was

remarrying after the death of her husband of twenty years. “Jesus Christ,” Zach said

when he saw the invitation. “Frank’s only been dead for…what, ten months? And

already she’s hooking up with somebody else.” “You shouldn’t judge her so harshly,

babe,” Jay had said in his quiet way. “Memories are cold comfort, you know?”

He hadn’t known then. But now he knew all too well what Jay had meant. He’d

spent the past two years curled up at night with his memories, and they were cold

comfort indeed.

Not until recently, not until he’d met Keith Harte, had he realized how much he

missed the heat, and how much he wanted to share not only his bed but his life with a

living, breathing man, a beautiful blond with eyes the color of good scotch.

Zach picked up the phone. He would call Keith right now, maybe even go over

there and tell him. But before he could dial the number, someone tapped on the office

door. It opened, and Rhonna poked her head in.

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“Can you come out for a minute, Zach?”

Zach replaced the phone and pushed back his chair. “What’s up?”

“Can you just come up front?”

There was something she wasn’t telling him; he could see it in her eyes. Zach

tensed, but he nodded and stood. Stepping out of the office, he saw Josie Horan

standing by the register.

She looked up and saw him and lifted a hand in greeting. “Beautiful day, isn’t it?”

Zach suppressed a sigh. He liked Josie, most days. She’d been a good friend to Jay

and him, and he admired her astute business sense. But she was a real yacker. It was a

sure bet that, once pulled into a conversation with Josie, he would likely be trapped for

a good half hour or longer. He didn’t have the time for that this morning.

He swallowed his impatience and found an answering smile for her. “How’s it

going, Jo?”

“It’s all good, sweetie.” She kissed his cheek.

“Josie brought something in to show you,” Rhonna said, coming up behind him.

“Oh, not really to show you.” She blushed. “Actually, I feel sort of fangirlie

coming in here like this.” She picked up a book from the counter. “You know how I

collect cookbooks? Well, a friend bought this one for me quite a while ago, and it’s one

of my favorites.” She flipped it open and started turning pages. “Lots of great recipes.”

Zach glanced at Rhonna. You called me out here for a recipe exchange, the look said.

What the hell?

Just wait, Rhonna mouthed as Josie prattled on.

“Imagine how surprised I was when I realized that adorable Keith who works in

your café is the author. Of course, you probably know all about it.”

Keith had written a cookbook?

“I can’t tell you how many times I’ve made stuff out of this book,” Josie went on.

“Even when I met Keith, it didn’t click. Not until I happened to see the author photo

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did I make the connection. He looks even younger here, but you can tell it’s him.” She

held out the book. “Look.”

Zach took it. Sure enough, there was Keith smiling up at him from the author

photo. He turned back to the front cover.

Recipes For Romance: 101 Elegant and Easy Dishes Sure To Win His Heart.

Zach stared at the author’s name. He felt like someone had whacked him upside

the head with a two-by-four. There must be a logical explanation for why Keith hadn’t

mentioned he was a published author. And what could that explanation be? the voice in

Zach’s head wondered.

“Do you mind if I hold on to this for a day or two, Jo?”

“Of course I don’t mind. In fact, do you think you could get him to sign it for me?

That’s really why I brought it in.”

“No problem. I’m sure he’ll be happy to.”

They chatted for another few minutes, and then Josie excused herself. “I have to

get back to the shop.” She turned toward the door. “I left Doreen by herself. She’s a

good kid, but if she gets more than two customers in the store at once, she panics.” She

breezed out, the chimes over the door ringing softly in her wake.

Slowly Zach turned the book over in his hands.

He read: 101 elegant meals. As easy to prepare as they are romantic. From delectable

dinners to sensuous desserts, each offering you prepare and share with your lover will bring you

a world of sensual delights. So pour the wine, light the candles, and let master chef and

renowned food critic Keith Harte take you on a journey of culinary delights.

Zach flipped to the table of contents and scanned it. His attention was caught by

one recipe in particular, and he turned to the page that was indicated.

Grilled salmon with angel hair pasta and red-pepper pesto. It was the same meal

he’d eaten in Keith’s bed. Zach recalled how they’d shared bites of salmon and

pestoflavored kisses, and his heart began to pound. Why hadn’t Keith told him?

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“So.”

Zach started. He’d completely forgotten Rhonna was standing there, watching

him.

“So what?” He closed the book and laid it on the counter.

“So what kind of chef and cookbook author takes a job as a barista in a bookstore,

that’s so what.”

He didn’t want to talk about this right then, not to Rhonna, not until he talked to

Keith.

“How the hell should I know?” He started back toward the office.

She followed him. “Zach, there’s something else you should—”

He turned on her. “Can it wait, Rho? I’m going to take a leak. Is that okay?”

Her eyes widened, and her mouth worked, but she stopped pursuing him. “Oh.”

He changed directions and headed for the bathroom. After closing the door, he

leaned back against it. What was life coming to when he had to escape into the

bathroom to get a minute’s peace?

Except that wasn’t fair. He loved Rhonna like a sister, and he knew she meant

well. But he needed a minute to think through what he’d just learned, and he couldn’t

do that with her firing questions and theories at him.

Zach straightened and unzipped. At least he wouldn’t have lied if he actually took

a leak.

He pissed, zipped up, and reached for the flush handle. But when he touched it,

the screw came loose and the handle clattered to the floor.

Damn. He needed to do something about that screw.

Crouching down, he reached behind the toilet. Instead of the handle, his fingers

found something else. He fished it out. It was a photograph. He turned it right side up.

It was a picture of him, an outdoor shot, and his back was turned. Despite the

shadows and odd angle, he knew instantly when and where it had been taken.

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He was standing on the front steps of Keith’s duplex, one hand in the pocket of his

jacket, a wine bottle under his arm. He thought he knew who had taken the picture.

That man in the car, the one he’d passed as he walked from his own car to Keith’s

house.

He remembered wondering what the guy was doing, sitting there with the engine

turned off. And he remembered thinking it was odd, so odd that he’d waved a greeting,

a thing he usually wouldn’t have done, to see if the man would respond. And he had

responded, giving Zach an enthusiastic wave.

Zach shivered. He would have felt better if the guy had turned away or acted

embarrassed. But he hadn’t.

But when Keith kissed him at the door and things started happening so fast, the

guy had completely slipped Zach’s mind.

He stared down at the picture. How did it get here, in the bookstore? What did it

mean? And what did it have to do with Keith?

He didn’t know. What he did know was that he didn’t like it. It felt wrong and

somehow dangerous. He needed to talk to Keith, right fucking now.

Zach slid the picture into his pocket. Quickly, he reattached the flusher, washed

his hands, and left the bathroom.

Rhonna was waiting for him. He blew right by her, grabbed Josie’s book, and

headed for the door, digging in his jeans pocket for his keys as he went.

“Where are you going?” Rhonna followed him.

“Not now,” Zach threw back over his shoulder as he hurried out of the store.

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Chapter Nine

Tearing a length from the roll of duct tape, Keith secured the flaps of the last box.

He had everything from the kitchen already packed up and stacked in the living room.

Some things he had to leave. But the important things, like his knives and the set of

copper pots he’d gotten from his mom when he graduated from culinary school, those

things were ready to go. He wondered, not for the first time, if maybe he should have

kept one of the knives out and near at hand, just in case.

Keith laughed, a dry, humorless sound that came perilously close to a sob. Who

was he kidding? He couldn’t ever use a knife against another person, not even Bryan.

He didn’t have it in him.

Keith looked around the tiny kitchen, checking one last time. His gaze caught on

the empty wine bottle from last night’s dinner. It stuck up over the rim of the recycling

bucket like it wanted him to see it. He picked it up, his heart twisting in his chest.

By now Rhonna had told Zach that he wouldn’t be in. What did he think? What

would he think when Keith didn’t show up tomorrow? Or the next day? What about

when he realized Keith was gone?

God, he wanted to see Zach, to explain that he had to go, that he was sorry. Except

then he would have to tell the whole awful story of Bryan and him and the stalking and

the rest. And he couldn’t do that. No, it was better this way.

Keith’s gaze lifted, and he saw the trash bag. He’d wanted to destroy the note, to

burn it and the pictures along with the sheets Bryan had soiled with his spunk. Except a

fire of that size, one large enough to burn the sheets, would surely have drawn

attention. So he’d bundled everything together and stuffed it in that trash bag, the one

now sitting by the back door like an ugly reminder. Once he’d loaded his Jeep with

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everything that would fit, he would get rid of the bag, along with whatever else he

couldn’t take with him. He’d done this so often that he knew, almost down to the last

box, what he could take and what he couldn’t. Thanks to Bryan, he’d become something

of an expert in the art of the quick getaway.

Keith dropped the wine bottle back into the bucket and turned away.

And the doorbell rang.

Keith’s heart leaped into his throat. Bryan. He wouldn’t answer it. He would

just—

Then sanity took hold once more, and he began to breathe again. What if it wasn’t

Bryan? What if it was someone who would worry if he didn’t answer? Yeah, and like

who would that be?

Rhonna might have worried about him, before last night, before the thing with the

pictures. Keith knew from the way she’d looked at him that she thought he and Bryan

were lovers, that he was playing with Zach. And who could blame her? She didn’t

know him from Adam’s cat, and Zach was like a brother to her.

But Zach might worry about him.

Keith went to the window by the front door and peered out. It was Zach.

His heart began hammering. He felt its echo throughout his body as a wave of

dizziness swept over him. No way could he let Zach in. No way could he ignore him.

He stood frozen with indecision.

He would play the illness card. Zach already thought he was sick. And after being

up all night, he looked like shit, so maybe it would work. It had to work.

He unlocked the door.

Zach stared.

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Keith looked like shit. His hair hung in sweaty clumps around his drawn and

sallow face. There were dark circles under his beautiful, expressive eyes, and the eyes

themselves held a look of utter exhaustion.

The sight tore at Zach. Maybe Keith really was sick. Maybe this conversation

could wait. Or maybe there was something else going on.

“Hey, aren’t you supposed to be at work?” Keith smiled. It didn’t touch his eyes.

“I left Rhonna minding the store. Can I come in?” He thought about adding that

he’d been worried, then didn’t.

Keith shifted from one bare foot to the other. “This isn’t really a good time. I think

I have the flu. I was up all night throwing up, and my head is killing me.”

“It won’t take long.”

“Zach—”

“It’s important.”

“I don’t think—”

Zach held out the cookbook. Keith’s words trailed off. For a long moment they

both stood there staring down at the book in Zach’s hands.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were a chef, and a food critic, and a cookbook

author?” Hard as he tried, Zach couldn’t keep the note of accusation out of his voice. He

couldn’t do it any more than he could stop the hurt welling up inside him at the

thought Keith had lied.

“I’m not a chef anymore.”

“What about the book?”

Keith shrugged. “So I wrote a cookbook. It was a long time ago. I didn’t think it

was important.”

“Not important that you used to be a chef and an author. Is there anything else

that’s not important that I might want to know?”

“I can’t think of anything.”

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“Nothing at all?”

Keith huffed out a breath. “Look, Zach, I don’t know what you’re—”

Zach pulled the photograph from his pocket and held it out. “You know anything

about this?”

He hadn’t thought it was possible for Keith to go any paler.

Keith swayed and gripped the doorjamb. “Where did you get that?”

“In the store, on the floor of the bathroom.”

“Jesus.” Keith shut his eyes.

“Keith, let me in.” Gently, Zach nudged the door open and stepped into the

apartment. Keith offered no resistance. Zach closed the door.

Once he was inside, his gaze was drawn past Keith to the living room beyond.

What the hell?

Boxes were stacked along one wall, not many, maybe a dozen or so. And suitcases,

two of them, stood inside the arch that led into the dining area.

The realization hit him like a blow to the heart. He turned on Keith. “You’re

leaving.”

Keith’s mouth worked, but no words came out.

And he wasn’t going to tell me, Zach thought. He clamped down on the anger

before it could get its claws into him. The hurt was another matter. He turned away and

strode into the living room, circled once, then walked through to the bedroom. Closets

and drawers stood open and empty. The bed had been stripped of its linens. The

bathroom held no towels, no toiletries, no sign that anyone lived here, either now or

ever. Zach jerked the shower curtain aside. No soap. No shampoo. Nothing. He turned

and found Keith watching him from the doorway.

“I can explain.” Keith’s eyes looked huge and frightened in his pale face.

Zach balled his hands into fists, crumpling the photograph he still held. Betrayal

beat like a pulse inside him. He would not lose his cool. “Okay. I’m listening.”

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Keith slumped against the bathroom doorway and shut his eyes. “The guy who

took the pictures was my…that is, a long time ago, he was my…my boyfriend. We were

together for, like, five years.”

“Pictures? There are more?”

Keith nodded. “A couple dozen maybe.”

“A couple dozen?” Zach started forward.

Keith held up a hand. “Can I just tell it, please?” He blew out a breath. “His name

is Bryan. He was always a little jealous, kind of possessive, but I never realized he was

so…crazy, you know? Not until I tried to break up with him. That was when the weird

shit really got started.”

Zach’s stomach knotted, but he kept his voice even. “What happened?”

Keith told him. He told about the middle-of-the-night phone calls where no one

spoke, the constant drive-bys to check up on him and who he was with, the cards and

gifts left on his doorstep, the dozens of phone messages, some raging, others tearful.

And how this had gone on for months.

“Once he tried to kill himself,” Keith said. “Took a bunch of pills, then called and

told me what he’d done and begged me to help him. And I did. I was so stupid. I guess

it made him think I still loved him, because after that it got worse.”

“You couldn’t let him die. You aren’t like that.” Zach reached for him.

Keith warded him off with a gesture. “Let me finish. I need to say it all.”

Zach let his arms drop back to his sides. He felt so goddamn helpless.

“One day I came home from work, and I found Bryan sitting on my front steps in

the pouring rain. He asked me if he could come in, just to talk. And I let him in; I don’t

know why. He looked so pathetic, and I was stupid, a sucker.”

Dread coiled tight in Zach’s gut, but he said nothing, just waited for the rest.

“Everything was okay at first. He was okay, like the old Bryan, and we were

talking. Then he tried to kiss me.”

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Keith fell silent. He hugged himself, rubbing his palms up and down his arms as if

he were suddenly, unbearably cold.

Zach waited.

“I told him that I didn’t want that kind of relationship, that it was over between us

and to please leave.” Keith took a long, shaky breath. “I don’t know what happened

next. It was so confused. All I know is one minute we were talking and the next he was

pulling my clothes off. Then he was fucking me, saying all this stuff about how he still

loved me and he knew I still loved him too.”

“Jesus,” Zach breathed.

“I didn’t fight. I guess maybe I should have, but I didn’t do anything, just lay there

and waited for it to be over. When he was done, he got up and put on his clothes. I

remember laying there with his spunk running out of my ass and feeling nothing, just

numb. That was when I knew I had to leave, go somewhere, anywhere that he couldn’t

get to me, couldn’t ever do that to me again. So that’s what I did.”

“How long ago was that?”

“Three years. I’ve moved eleven times since then, and he always finds me. Just

like he found me this time. Just like he’ll find me again.”

Keith’s voice broke on the last word, and Zach thought he might crumple to the

floor. He slid his arms around Keith to hold him up, or maybe just to hold him.

Keith leaned against him. Zach smelled sweat and fear. It clung to Keith like a

sickening cloud. He would kill that fucker with his bare hands if he ever—

Zach took a breath. He couldn’t afford to let his anger take over, had to stay in

control so he could help Keith. Keep him from leaving.

He stroked Keith’s hair back from his face. “Where are the rest of the pictures?”

“In the kitchen, in a trash bag.”

“Show me.” When Keith didn’t move, Zach unwound his arms, took Keith’s hand,

and led him to the kitchen. Once there, he found the bag and untied it.

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“What’s up with the sheets?”

Keith hesitated. When he finally spoke, his voice was almost inaudible. “He was in

my room last night. He—”

“What?” Zach dropped the trash bag. In a single move he was beside Keith. “Did

he hurt you? I’ll fucking kill him!” He took hold of Keith’s shoulders, stared hard into

his eyes. “Tell me what happened. What did that son of a bitch do to you?”

Keith touched Zach’s face. His hand shook. “Nothing. He didn’t hurt me. I wasn’t

even here.”

The words poured out in a rush. He told about coming home after the signing,

about what he found and what he did after that. Zach had to fight to stay silent and let

Keith talk. But the thought of Keith alone and dealing with all this shit made him ache

inside.

“You should have called me. I would have come, been here for you.”

“I didn’t want to involve you any more than I had already. I didn’t want him to

ruin your life like—”

“Like he’s ruined yours? Christ.” He scrubbed a hand over his face. “Is there

anything else? Anything you haven’t told me? And forget not involving me. I’m already

involved.”

“I’m sorry for that. If I just go—”

“Won’t work.”

“Sure it will. He’ll follow me and leave you alone.”

“Then what about me?”

“What about you?”

“What the hell am I supposed to do when you’re gone? I’m half in love with you

already, maybe more. And I’m supposed to let you go? I don’t think so, angel.”

Keith’s jaw dropped, and his eyes widened until it looked like they might pop

right out of their sockets. “You hardly know me. How can you be in love with me?”

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“We’ll just have to fix that, won’t we? The hardly knowing part, I mean. Of course,

we can’t do that if you’re leaving, which is why you can’t.” He realized how that

sounded, like he was just another possessive, controlling asshole. He took Keith in his

arms. “Please? I’d miss you.” He pulled Keith against him. “We can deal with this.

Nothing’s going to happen to you. I won’t let it.”

For a very long moment Keith did nothing, said nothing. Zach felt panic begin to

nip at his balls.

Holy shit, what was he doing? He must be out of his fucking mind, confessing

love to a man he’d known for a grand total of a week.

Slowly Keith’s arms crept around Zach’s neck. He leaned in and touched his lips

to the corner of Zach’s jaw. “I’d miss you too.”

“So you’ll stay?” Zach held his breath, hardly daring to hope, hardly believing this

was really happening.

Keith nodded. “I’ll stay.”

Zach let out his breath. “Okay.” He rubbed slow circles on Keith’s back. “We have

to call the police now, tell them what happened here. Unless you’ve already done that.”

Keith tensed. “I haven’t.”

“We have to. You know that, right?”

“You mean I have to.”

“I’ll be right here with you.”

“Will you stay the whole time?” Keith was watching him, hope gradually

replacing fear in his eyes.

“Are you kidding? Angel, I’m staying till you kick my sorry ass out.”

Keith laughed, the sound a little watery, but still a laugh. It warmed his heart and

strengthened his resolve. He would not leave this man, not now. And maybe not ever,

that voice inside him whispered.

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“Well,” Keith said, his smile blossoming, “if that’s the way it is, I hope you packed

a lunch.”

* * * *

They stood in the doorway, Zach’s arm around Keith’s waist, and watched the

lights of the police car disappear around the corner.

Keith sighed and dragged an unsteady hand through his hair. “Well, at least they

didn’t laugh at me.”

“Why the hell would they laugh? There’s nothing funny about this.” But of course

Zach knew what Keith meant. He could guess what kind of reaction a gay man might

get when he reported being stalked by an ex-lover, and the thought of Keith going

through that made him sick and furious all over again.

“Davidson’s all right,” Zach said.

Keith nodded. “Yeah, he seemed okay. Is he gay, do you know?”

Zach hesitated. He did know though he didn’t think Bill Davidson’s orientation

was general knowledge. But this was Keith asking.

“I think he is, or at least curious.” Briefly Zach told about seeing Bill Davidson in a

gay bar about six months earlier. “It was down in Philly. At the time I wasn’t sure if he

saw me and we never talked about it, but that’s how I know. How did you know?”

“Just a feeling.” Keith shivered. “Let’s go in and close the door. I’m cold.”

In the living room, Keith paused and looked around. Exhaustion and strain were

etched over his face, making him appear closer to forty than thirty.

“I guess I better get this place put back together.”

“You’re not staying here.”

Shit. Controlling asshole alert. Zach tried again. He walked to Keith and took the

hands that had begun to rummage in one of the boxes.

“Come and stay with me. Don’t say no right away; just listen a minute, okay?”

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“I said I wasn’t running away.” Keith tried to tug his hands free but Zach held on.

“That’s not running away. Look, this place is a mess, and you’re exhausted.”

Because holding Keith’s hands didn’t feel like enough, Zach wrapped his arms around

him. “Come and stay with me for a little while until they take that asshole into

custody.”

“What if they don’t catch him?” Keith laid his head on Zach’s shoulder. “He’s

good at not getting caught. Besides, that’s a shitty reason for us to be together.”

“That’s not why we’re together. We’re together because I—” The words caught in

Zach’s throat. “Because I’m falling in love with you.”

Keith was silent for a long time, so long Zach began to wonder once again if he’d

said too much.

“I just don’t want Bryan coming back to screw this up. You and me, I mean. It’s

too important, and I don’t want to rush because of him.”

Zach closed his eyes. He sucked at finding the right words. It would be so much

simpler to bulldoze ahead with his plan—spur of the moment as it was—to move Keith

into his house. But force or bullying wasn’t the way. Persuasion was what was needed,

finesse and coaxing.

Zach took a breath. “I won’t worry so much if you come and stay with me. If

you’re nearby, at least I’ll know you’re safe.”

“So you’re going to set yourself up as my watchdog?” Keith laughed. “Zach, man,

you’re a bookstore owner, not a bodyguard.”

Scenting success, Zach kept his tone light. “Mild-mannered bookstore proprietor

by day but at night—”

“I know what you turn into at night.” Keith laughed again and leaned back in

Zach’s arms. His gaze searched Zach’s face as if looking for some unspoken truth there.

“Just until they catch him, okay?”

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“Okay,” Zach agreed. He’d won. No sense arguing about the length of time Keith

would be staying. They could work that out later, much later.

Zach looked around the living room, letting his gaze rest on the suitcases. “You

have everything in those cases?”

Keith nodded. “I don’t have a lot. It comes from moving so much.”

Sadness and anger twisted in Zach’s chest at the matter-of-fact statement.

“Well, let’s get them into the car. You look like you could use about a week’s

worth of sleep.”

“What about the broken window? And you have to go back to the shop.”

“I’ll call Rhonna and let her know what’s going on. As for the window, I have

some boards at the house. We’ll nail them over the hole, then call someone about

getting the glass replaced.” Zach reached up and cupped Keith’s cheek. “Everything

will be okay, I promise.”

And it was a promise he meant to keep.

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Chapter Ten

“Oh, Keith honey!”

Keith had hardly gotten through the front door of the shop before Rhonna rushed

him. Throwing her arms around him, she hugged him tight, then held him at arm’s

length and studied him for so long he wanted to squirm. At last she nodded.

“I’m so sorry, sweetie,” she said then let him go.

“Um, for what?”

“For all the nasty things I thought about you before Zach told me what’s been

going on. You poor thing! That must have been terrifying.”

Keith opened his mouth to say…what, he had no idea. The intensity of her

greeting and her sympathy left him feeling shaky. Of course ever since that awful night

nearly a week ago, everything seemed to make him feel shaky. It was the main reason

he needed to get back to work. Not that persuading Zach to let him come back to the

shop had been easy. No, on the contrary it had been next to impossible.

“I thought Zach was coming in with you,” Rhonna said.

“He’s parking the car.”

“Oh well, that’s good. Why don’t you come back to the café? You shouldn’t be

standing in front of the window like that. Zach won’t like it.”

“Rho, I’m not on a hit list, you know.”

“Zach said he had a knife.”

“Yeah, he did.” Goose bumps broke out over Keith’s arms and he shivered.

“Oh, honey.” Rhonna rubbed a hand up and down his arm. “Come back to the

café and have some coffee. It’s not as good as yours, but it will warm you up.”

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He followed her and accepted the mug of coffee she poured for him, unable to

explain no amount of coffee could chase away the chill of that particular memory. Only

the warmth of Zach’s arms could do that.

But Keith sipped the coffee anyway and let the caffeine do its work while Rhonna

bustled around the café.

“People have been asking about you,” she said, joining him at the counter with her

own mug.

“Like who?”

“Customers.” She touched the back of his hand. “People who met you the night of

the reading and others who’ve heard about your fantastic pastries.”

The bell on the front door jingled, and Keith tensed. Immediately he forced his

shoulders to relax. He couldn’t live like this, jumping at every little sound and shadow.

That would be letting Bryan win, and he would not do that.

Rhonna set down her coffee and rose. “Let me see—”

But before she took more than a few steps, Zach appeared in the arch between the

shop and the café, Officer Davidson at his heels.

All Keith’s tension returned in a rush, the coffee turning sour in his belly.

As if he knew, Zach moved to Keith’s side and put his arm around him. “It’s okay.

Bill’s got some news for us.”

Keith swallowed and moistened his lips. “What news?”

Bill Davidson and Zach exchanged a look. Rhonna excused herself and hurried

out of the café.

Keith glanced toward the window facing the street. He couldn’t help it. So many

years of looking over his shoulder and it had become a reflex.

“It’s Bryan, right? What happened?”

“They’ve got him,” Zach said, cutting right to the chase. “He’s in custody.”

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“For how long though?” Keith looked from Zach to the cop and back, not ready to

believe it could be so easy.

“Oh, it will be quite a while, I expect,” Bill Davidson said.

“They found him trying to set fire to your apartment,” Zach said.

“Fire?” Keith’s stomach heaved. “Oh God! What about my neighbors? Did

anybody get hurt?”

“There was some damage to the rear of the building, but your upstairs and next

door neighbors got out. One of them saw the guy and didn’t like the look of him. She

said he was sort of skulking around so she asked him who he was and what he

wanted.”

“Which neighbor?”

“Mrs. Stoddard. She’s a little old lady who—”

“I know who she is. She has this cute little dog.”

“Right.” Davidson nodded.

“But why did she call you guys?” Keith asked.

“She said her dog didn’t like him and she always listens to her dog.” Davidson

smiled. “Anyway, someone was in the area—”

“You weren’t in the area,” Zach interrupted.

“Yeah, well I was in my car, and because of your call I decided to check it out.”

“Bryan had a container of gas,” Zach said, picking up the story. “He was pouring

it around the backyard when Bill showed up.”

“I yelled, and he ran,” Davidson chimed in. “I chased him. The son of a bitch ran

for six blocks before I got him. I wouldn’t have gotten him then except he slipped on

some ice and went down.”

“Where is he now?” Keith asked.

“He’s in the hospital with a broken leg, three cracked ribs, and a dislocated

shoulder.”

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“From falling on the ice?”

Davidson and Zach exchanged another look; then the cop shrugged. “What can I

tell you? It was a bad fall.”

Once Davidson was gone, Keith turned to Zach. “What do you know about this?”

They were in the bookstore, both standing by the register. It was a quiet moment

with no customers and Rhonna in the back doing inventory.

Zach broke open a roll of quarters and spilled them into the drawer. “What do I

know about what?”

“How Bryan ended up in the hospital from a fall on the ice.”

“How should I know, I wasn’t there.”

Keith said nothing, only waited in silence until Zach looked up and met his gaze.

He looked away, then back and shifted from foot to foot.

“Okay, I don’t know what happened, specifically. I might have said something to

Bill about how I’d like to break that little asshole in two for what he did to you, how if I

happened to be there when they arrested him I…”

He shrugged.

“But you weren’t there.”

“No, but Bill is a friend. Remember how I said I saw him at the gay bar? Well, it

turned out he did see me. He came by the shop later that week and asked me not to say

anything, which I wouldn’t have anyway. But maybe he felt like he sort of owed me,

you know.”

“Oh God.” Keith rubbed his temples where a headache was brewing.

“What’s wrong? I thought you’d be relieved.”

“I am. It’s just…” Keith shrugged. “Do you think it’s really over?”

Zach reached for Keith and pulled him close, rubbing slow circles on his back.

“Yeah, I really do.”

Keith rested his head on Zach’s shoulder. “I so want you to be right.”

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“I am right.” Zach brushed his lips against Keith’s temple. “What do you say we

go home.”

“We don’t need to go home. I can stay and work the rest of the day.”

“Yeah well, I can’t.” Zach released him and stepped back. “I need to be home

where I can hold on to you for a while. I need to know you’re safe.”

Keith smiled. “I always feel safe with you no matter where we are.”

“Right now I want to be home.” Zach cupped Keith’s cheek. “In bed with you. Is

that all right, angel?”

Keith nodded because that was just about the most all right thing he’d ever heard.

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Epilogue

Zach stopped the car in front of the inn and turned off the engine. “Do you have

the keys?”

Keith sighed. “Yes, for the fiftieth time, I’ve got the keys.” He held them up. “You

want them?”

Zach shook his head. “No, you hold on to them.” He scanned the weather-beaten

facade of the building. “I called the roofer. He’ll be here on Friday to take a look and get

us an estimate. This place is going to need a ton of work before we’ll be ready to open.”

“I can’t wait to move our stuff in.” Keith tore his gaze from the inn and looked at

Zach. He must have seen something, because he bit his lip and reached for Zach’s hand.

He twined their fingers together. “Are you having second thoughts?”

“No, I’m just saying it’s going to be a ton of work, and it’s not going to go quick.”

He squeezed his lover’s hand. He really wasn’t having doubts, or not serious ones

anyway. It was so daunting, the idea that they were going to open their own restaurant.

Well, the restaurant would be Keith’s domain, but the inn…Zach had never in a million

years pictured himself as an innkeeper.

“It’ll go quick.” Keith squeezed Zach’s hand. “Look how quick the last year’s

gone.”

It was still hard to believe that he and Keith had been together for almost a year.

In some ways it felt like only yesterday he’d started working at the bookstore. In other,

more important ways, Zach felt like he’d been sharing his bed and his life with this man

forever.

He still loved Jay, would always love him. And Keith understood that. He

understood too, and had helped Zach to understand, that it was okay, that his love for

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Jay was rooted in cherished memories whereas their love was for the present and the

future. That understanding had made Zach love Keith all the more.

“You love it, don’t you?” Zach asked. “This place, I mean.”

“I love you.” Keith leaned across the space between the seats and touched their

lips together. “And yeah, I do love the inn too, even if it is an old dump.”

Zach grinned. “You better, babe. Because this old dump looks like it needs all the

love it can get.”

“And it’s our old dump now.”

“Just you, me, and the bank.”

“Ooo, a threesome. You’re so kinky.”

Zach laughed and reached for the door handle. “I could never be that kinky. Did

you see that guy from the bank? He must be about a million years old.” He opened the

door. “You want to go in?”

“Yeah, let’s go.”

They got out of the car.

Zach took Keith’s hand once again at the foot of the front steps. “Careful where

you step. Remember, these boards were loose when we were here last time, and I’m

sure nobody fixed them since then.”

Together they mounted the steps.

Keith paused at the top on the wide, shady porch that wrapped all the way

around the building. “I love this porch.” He tugged on Zach’s hand. “C’mon, babe, let’s

walk all the way around before we go inside.”

“I think you only wanted this place because of the porch.” He released Keith’s

hand and slid an arm around his waist.

“And I thought I hid it so well. Guess not, huh?”

“Nope.” Zach gave him a squeeze. “You’re transparent as glass. At least you were

about this.”

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“Maybe.”

They rounded the corner of the building and started along the side porch.

“But look.” Keith swept a hand in a wide arc that encompassed the broad expanse

of porch and the grounds beyond. “For the restaurant we can put tables out here in the

nice weather and serve almost twice as many guests.” He stopped walking. “As for the

inn, people will come here for a romantic getaway, and in the morning they can have

their coffee out here. We’ll fix up the garden, put in some bluebells and climbing roses

and maybe a little waterfall too. Oh, and a gazebo. I always wanted one of those. Can’t

you see it?”

Mostly what Zach saw was a two-hundred-year-old building with all the myriad

problems that were common to buildings of that age, a leaky roof being only the

beginning. He could also envision the days and weeks and even months of work it was

going to take to bring the place back to a semblance of its former charm. But what had

really sealed the deal, gotten him to make the call to the Realtor, then to put his own

house on the market so they could afford the mortgage, was the way Keith’s eyes

sparkled when they’d first driven past the place. That and the excited lilt in his voice

when they talked about the B and B they were going to open once all the work was

done.

And standing there, listening to the man he loved describe everything in such

glowing detail, Zach really could almost see it, the inn and the restaurant, the two of

them living and working here, going to sleep at night in that beautiful old sleigh bed he

was going to buy as a surprise for Keith.

During the past year, making his lover happy had become the single driving

purpose of Zach’s life. Christ knew Keith deserved it after everything that asshole

Bryan had put him through.

Zach could remember like it was yesterday, the day the police had come to say

they’d arrested the fucker and that Bryan had confessed to everything. It was like a

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weight had slipped from Keith’s shoulders. Now Bryan was locked away, hopefully for

a long, long time, and Keith’s eyes had lost that hunted look.

“Babe, what’s wrong?” Keith had stopped talking and was watching him, a frown

creasing his brow.

“Nothing. I was thinking about the roof.” Zach shook off the memory.” You ready

to go inside now?”

“Yeah.” Keith passed him the keys. “Go ahead. You unlock the door.”

Zach was about to slide the key into the lock when Keith’s hand covered his and

stopped him. “I love you so much for making this happen for me.”

Zach lifted a brow, a grin tugging at his lips. “So what are you saying? Our love is

based on a real-estate deal?”

“You know what I mean.” Keith laughed.

Zach unlocked the door and pushed it open. “Yeah, angel, I know what you

mean.” He led Keith into their new home. “It was really a very selfish gesture on my

part.”

“How do you figure?”

“If I didn’t get you more people to cook for, I would have ended up weighing nine

hundred pounds.”

“Get out of here.” Keith followed him through the large foyer and into what had

once been the parlor. It still held a few ancient pieces of furniture covered with dust

sheets. “You haven’t gained any weight.”

Zach snorted. “Only, like, fifteen pounds in the past year.” He turned, caught

Keith around the waist, and pulled him close. “And it’s all your fault.”

“Guilty as charged.” Keith molded his body to Zach’s. “Mmm, fifteen extra

pounds or not, you’re still the hottest guy I know.”

“That so? Seems to me talk’s pretty cheap.” Zach slid his hands down to Keith’s

ass and squeezed. “Want to put some action behind those words?”

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“What did you have in mind?” Keith flicked his tongue into Zach’s ear. The jolt of

lust went straight to Zach’s dick.

“How about riding my cock, angel.” Zach flipped open the first button on Keith’s

jeans. “I haven’t been inside you since—”

“Since this morning.” Keith reached for Zach’s belt. Clever fingers made short

work of the buckle as well as the button and zip. “What me to suck you, get you good

and wet since we don’t have lube?”

“Who says we don’t have lube?” Zach pulled a single-shot packet of lube from his

pocket and held it up.

“My hero.” Keith took the lube and gestured with it to a nearby chair. “Sit down

and let me get you ready.”

“Take off your clothes first. I want you naked.” Zach flipped the dust cover aside

and sat down to watch as his lover stripped.

Keith toed off his shoes, yanked off his shirt and jeans, and dropped them on the

floor. He shucked his briefs, then stood naked in front of Zach.

“Want me to get undressed?”

Keith shook his head. “I like being naked with you when you have all your clothes

on. It makes me feel…” He shrugged, and color crept into his cheeks. “I don’t know.

Dominated, I guess.”

“And you like that?” Zach drew his cock out of his pants and stroked it, letting his

gaze slide down his lover’s body. He was so perfect, so beautiful.

“Yeah, I like it.” Keith opened the lube and stepped in close. “I know you’d never

hurt me.” He stroked lube over Zach’s cock, then reached between his own legs and

fingered his hole. “So I can do anything I want with you.” He straddled Zach’s legs,

positioned himself, then slid slowly down, taking Zach’s cock in a single long motion.

“Anything at all.” His ass rested in Zach’s lap, and he wrapped his arms around his

lover’s neck.

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100

Zach closed his eyes and leaned his head against Keith’s shoulder. They stayed

that way for a long moment, not talking, not moving, joined in the most intimate way.

“You take my breath away, angel. I love you so much.” Zach’s lips grazed Keith’s

shoulder. “You’ll always be safe with me. I promise.”

“I know it.” Keith squeezed Zach’s prick, sending a jolt of pleasure down into his

balls. “Now fuck me. I want to feel you come inside me.”

Zach took hold of Keith’s hips and took some of his weight as, very slowly, Keith

raised up, then just as slowly slid back down.

“God, you feel so good. I could stay inside you forever.” Zach shifted his ass on

the chair, angling so he could hit Keith’s prostate. On the next downward slide, Zach

thrust up.

“Oh.” Keith leaned forward, bracing his hands on Zach’s shoulders. “Do that

again.”

Zach did.

Keith groaned. He rocked, moving Zach’s prick inside the tight channel of his ass,

fucking himself as he milked Zach’s cock.

Zach supported Keith, allowing his lover to pleasure himself, to use Zach’s body

in any way he wanted. He loved Keith so much, more than he’d ever thought possible,

and the sex was only a small part of that. A pretty terrific part, but a small one.

“God, baby.” Keith sped up, slamming his ass down on Zach’s prick. “Gonna

come soon. Come with me.”

Zach moved, meeting Keith thrust for thrust, giving him what he wanted and

taking what he offered. Pleasure curled through him, made even more intense as he

watched Keith get closer and closer to his own climax.

Keith began to make those kittenish noises, the ones that meant he would come

soon.

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101

Zach thrust hard, using his hips and his hands to increase the force, driving his

lover higher and higher as the need coiled tight in his belly.

Keith’s insides rippled around Zach’s prick.

Zach’s balls pulled tight. He thrust in deep as Keith’s muscles clamped down. He

came deep in his lover’s ass at almost the same moment Keith’s pleasure erupted from

his dick, splashing cum over his stomach and Zach’s shirt.

Keith collapsed against him, and a car pulled up outside.

“Who the hell could that be?” Zach managed as he gasped for breath and waited

to see if his heart was going to explode in his chest.

“Oh, that must be Rhonna. I told her we’d be here and to come up if she wanted to

see the place.” He laughed. “Timing is everything, huh, babe?”

“I’ll say it is.”

Keith stood up, Zach’s softening cock sliding from his ass. “Will you let her in

while I throw my clothes back on?”

“I can do that.” Zach got to his feet.

“Wait a minute.” Keith grabbed his underwear from the floor and tossed them to

Zach. “You have cum all over you, babe. Better wipe off before you answer the door.”

Zach caught the briefs, then glanced down at his shirt. So he did. He made a

halfhearted attempt at cleaning up. The results were less than stellar.

And the doorbell rang.

“Hey, at least we know the doorbell works.” After stepping into his jeans, Keith

walked to Zach, dragging his shirt over his head as he did.

Zach pulled Keith into his arms. “I love you, angel.”

Keith slid his arms around Zach’s neck and pressed close. “I love you too.”

They kissed. Then together they went to welcome their first guest into their home.

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103

Kimberly Gardner

Kimberly has been making up stories for as long as she can remember. As early as

the seventh grade, she recalls slashing her favorite rock stars for her own and her

friends’ enjoyment. It was also around that time that she began a lifelong love affair

with the romance genre, devouring category romances as fast as she could smuggle

them into the house. So it’s not all that surprising that her two passions, romance and

putting pretty boys with other pretty boys, would ultimately come together in her

writing.

Moliere said, “Writing is like prostitution. First you do it for love, then for a few

close friends, then for money.”

Kimberly is delighted at long last to be doing it for money.

Read more about Kimberly and her books at

http://www.kimberlygardner.com

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