Dressed to Thrill

Kimberly Gardner

Dressed to Thrill
Copyright © April 2011 by Kimberly Gardner

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eISBN 978-1-60737-992-8
Editor: Crystal Esau
Cover Artist: Marci Gass
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Chapter One

“I’ll have another one of those,” Oliver said. He

angled his head toward the empty margarita glass
on the table in front of him.

“Rocks and salt?” The waitress had to yell to be

heard over the music.

Oliver nodded, and she scooped up his empty

before hurrying away.

He let his gaze wander the crowded club. All the

nearby tables were full. Couples, many of them male,
leaned in toward each other, laughing and talking, as
they yelled directly into each other’s ears to be heard
over the music blaring from giant speakers on either
side of the stage.

As Oliver watched, a blond kid who didn’t look

old enough to order a beer legally leaned in and laid

a smacking kiss on the lips of his silver-haired
companion. It was no little peck either, but an
extended lip-lock that brought heat to Oliver’s
cheeks and a rush of envy so strong he had to turn
away.

That should be Jonathan and him, sitting

together all cozied up at one of the round tables,
exchanging stolen kisses and covert gropes. If
Jonathan hadn’t turned out to be such a lying,
cheating bastard.

The waitress appeared with his fresh margarita.

She slid the glass in front of him and leaned in. “You
want to run a tab?”

Did he? Was he going to be here long enough

for that?

What the hell?

“Sure,” Oliver shouted over the techno-dancified

version of “Venus” currently blasting through the club.
But as the waitress turned, he waved to get her
attention. She lifted one dark brow. “What time is the
show?”

She pointed to her watch. “Soon.”

Oliver’s attention was drawn back to the couple

at the next table. The angle was just right for him to
see the older guy’s hand slip into Blondie’s lap. And
the smile curving the younger man’s lips told him
precisely what that hand must be doing.

The older guy looked sort of like Jonathan, or

the way Jonathan might look in twenty years. But in
Oliver’s opinion, the twink didn’t resemble himself at
all. Actually, he looked kind of like Jonathan’s twink,
the kid Jon had supposedly been tutoring.

Yeah, tutoring, sure. And what was worse, he

had believed that lame-ass lie.

Oliver picked up his glass and glugged down a

huge swallow. He was not going to think about that
asshole anymore. He was in beautiful Key West, the
Mecca of gay spring breakers everywhere, and
damn it, he was going to enjoy himself. And if he was
lucky and his interviews went well, he would be
leaving at the end of the week with the promise of a
job after graduation.

“Here’s to me,” Oliver said and raised his glass

in a solitary toast just as the lights came up on the
stage and the music changed.

The woman…man…drag queen who slinked

onto the stage was tall and slender with a mass of
wildly curling hair spilling down her back. Her dress
was made of some red shimmery stuff and clung to
her lithe body. She sashayed to the microphone,
picked it up, and purred in a sexy contralto, “How
y’all doing tonight?”

The audience went crazy. Whistles, catcalls,

and applause grew in volume until they nearly
drowned out the music.

What the heck was he doing here, in a drag bar

watching this gender-bending beauty—because she
was a beauty—flirt and flash long bare leg and
seduce the crowd of primarily gay men? He wasn’t
into drag queens or cross-dressers. He should go to
the strip club across the street and watch the boys
dance while he got trashed.

Except Dante, the guy who worked at the

guesthouse where he was staying, had said Mango
Mango was the hottest club in town, the place to go
for good drinks, a good show, and maybe even a
hook-up.

And there was something about that sequin-

clad figure up on stage that drew his eye, something
that made it hard to look away.

The drag queen, Faith Cummings—Oliver let

out a snort of laughter at that—had begun to dance
to an ancient Cher song that sounded like Cher and
not like Cher, since it wasn’t actually Cher doing the
singing, only a Cher sound-alike. But Faith wasn’t
singing either, only lip-synching the words as she
slithered and pranced around the stage. Hell, she
probably couldn’t sing at all. She probably had a
voice like a bullfrog despite the beautiful face and
killer body.

Still, Oliver didn’t get up and leave. Still his

attention remained riveted on the sexy queen as she
swirled her skirt and flashed leg through the thigh-
high slits.

He remained that way, essentially mesmerized,

through her entire routine. As she moved from one
song to the next, Oliver found himself leaning
forward, his drink forgotten on the table as he hung
on her every gesture.

She was so glamorous, so sexy, so…

fascinating.

“Now don’t y’all forget to tip your waiters and

waitresses,” Faith sang out. She strutted to the stage
steps that would bring her down into the audience
right beside Oliver’s table. “And your gratuities are
always appreciated by the entertainers. That would
be me.”

As she floated down the steps on her high

skinny heels, Oliver grabbed a dollar from the
scattering of change left on the table from his first
drink. He picked up the pen lying next to the e-mail
sign-up card, and without stopping to think too hard
about what he was doing or what it might mean, he
scribbled his number on the back of the dollar and
held it up where she would be sure to see.

She did and danced over to him. But rather than

lean in so he could slide the bill into her fake
cleavage as she’d done with other patrons, Faith
swung one long, gorgeous leg across Oliver’s lap
and straddled him.

The people at the tables around them hooted

and whistled and cheered as the drag queen rocked
forward, bringing the two of them crotch to crotch.

Oliver inhaled. Under her perfume, her scent

was a little hot, a little sweaty, and more than a little
male.

Mmm.

Oliver’s face flushed hot, his heart began to

pound, and his dick twitched and began to fill.

Faith leaned forward, wrapped her arms around

him, and pressed her scarlet mouth to his. As she
parted his lips with her tongue, she rocked against
him, letting him feel the hard length of what was most
definitely a nice-sized cock. She ground their hips
together, creating the most delicious friction of cock
against cock.

Oliver groaned into her—no, his—mouth and

tried to pull that amazing body closer and keep the
contact going.

But the fantasy in his arms drew back and

smiled at him with red-smeared lips before sliding
off his lap and fading into the crowd, leaving him
there with an aching hard-on and a dollar with his
own phone number clutched in his hand.

Chapter Two

The screen door on the tiny office banged open.

Drew glanced up from the bicycle tire he was
patching and let out a silent whistle.

Ooo, baby!

From where he sat at the workbench in the

garage, he had a perfect view into the rental office of
We Be Bikin’, the Key West bicycle rental business
he ran for his parents, who were still at home in
Maryland. Hez, the kid who sometimes helped out
during the busy season, had yet to arrive, so the
office was empty.

Empty save for the most gorgeous specimen of

college-boy good looks Drew had seen in a long
time. Which was saying something considering this
was spring break in Key West, and Drew had seen
some sizzling hot man flesh around town over the

last few days.

God, how he loved spring-break week!

He let his gaze slide down the athletic body

from the broad shoulders to the narrow waist, slim
hips, and very fine ass, then even farther down the
mostly bare and very tan legs lightly dusted with
sandy brown hair.

Mmm

. He could so imagine his legs wrapped

around that waist as College Boy pounded him
through the mattress.

Except this one had straight boy written all over

him. But then again, Key West was the gay spring-
break Mecca, so what were the odds?

Drew grinned. Maybe this particular hottie just

hadn’t met the right guy yet. Maybe he could be the
right guy. Laying the tire aside, he slid off his stool
and sauntered into the office.

“Can I help you?” Drew smiled his very best, not

quite professional smile, the one that got him laid
pretty much whenever he wanted. And right now he
definitely wanted.

“Oh, hey.” College Boy turned from where he’d

been reading a flyer advertising the local spring-
break events.

That was when

ooo baby

turned to

oh shit

in the

space of a heartbeat.

It was the guy from the club last night, the one

Drew had kissed while wearing his drag-queen
getup. And oh, that had been sweet. In fact, he could
have happily stayed right there in the blond Adonis’s
lap all night, especially after he’d felt the very special
treat hidden in Blondie’s cargo shorts.

And now here was his fair-haired god, standing

in the rental office, big as life and twice as gorgeous
as Drew remembered.

They stood there for one frozen moment and

stared at each other, Drew hardly daring to breathe.

Did the kid recognize him from last night?

No, he couldn’t possibly know, Drew comforted

himself even as heat rose to his cheeks. After all,
how many of his friends had told him he looked like a
completely different person on stage? Hell, he was a
completely different person. He was Faith
Cummings. And he was meticulous about never

letting Faith herself, or her antics, cross over into his
actual life.

“What’s the matter?” Blondie asked. “Do I have

something hanging from my nose or something?”

Oh get a grip.

Drew gave himself a hard mental shake and

forced a laugh. “No, it’s nothing. I was just…” He
shook his head and let the sentence hang
unfinished. “Can I help you?”

“I’d like to rent a bike.”

Blondie’s hair was cut in one of those shaggy,

this-is-not-an-expensive-haircut haircuts. And the
color, which Drew had first taken for a sort of dirty
blond, was, upon closer examination, every color
from deep chestnut near the roots to sun-dipped
gold at the ends.

For a moment Drew let himself imagine running

his fingers through that luxurious mop as he fed his
cock inch by inch into College Boy’s pretty mouth.
And the boy would be into it too, if last night’s hard-
on was any indication.

“Well, that’s handy, then, because bikes we got.

How long do you want it?” Drew slipped behind the
counter and reached for a rental form.

“How long can I have it?”

I got one that’s just the right length for you,

babe.

“You can have it for a day or a week.” Drew

shrugged. “Or basically, as long as you want.”

“A week would be good.”

“You here on break?”

He nodded. “Till Saturday.”

Drew slid the form across the counter. “I’ll need

you to fill this out. Name, address where you’re
staying, and a cell-phone number. Then I’ll need to
see your license and a credit card for the deposit.”

“Do you have a pen?”

Drew grabbed one from the cup under the

counter and held it out. When College Boy took it,
their fingers brushed.

Drew’s dick stiffened. Thank God for the

counter between them. His snug-fitting cutoffs
weren’t up to hiding this degree of interest.

He watched as College Boy filled out the form.

God, even his hands were sexy, long-fingered with a
light sprinkling of gilded hairs on the backs. As he
wrote, Drew followed along upside down.

“Your name’s really Oliver?”

“Yeah. You can call me Ollie, though. Most

people do.” He signed the form, then pushed it and
the pen back across the counter before reaching for
his wallet and extracting a credit card and driver’s
license. He held out the cards. “And what can I call
you?”

Drew lifted his gaze and met Oliver’s melt-you-

in-your-sneakers blue eyes. “I’m Drew Lee.”

“Yeah? You don’t look like a Drew. You look sort

of exotic. Where’d you get a name like Drew?”

“Same place you got a name like Oliver, I

imagine.”

“Really? You mean we have the same parents?

Funny, I don’t remember ever running into you at the
breakfast table.”

Drew laughed.

Oh man, not only pretty but with

a sense of humor too

. He so wanted this one naked

and moaning under, or on top of, but very definitely
inside him before the week, or maybe even the day,
was done.

“If you got a breakfast table, maybe we can fix

that.”

Oliver’s grin flashed.

Oh my God, look at those dimples!

Drew entertained a brief fantasy in which he

stuck his tongue in each of those dimples as well as
any others he might find on this boy.

Before he could get too carried away, he picked

up Oliver’s rental form and slipped it into the
standing file he kept for current rentals. As he turned
back around, Oliver quickly glanced away.

College Boy was checking him out.

Hmm, definitely interested, then

. It must be his

lucky day. Hopefully there was a lot more luck in
store for him.

“The bikes are around back. Come with me.”

Drew gestured for Oliver to follow and led the way
through to the garage, where he brought out a bike,
midnight blue with white racing stripes. “This one

okay?”

Oliver nodded.

“Try it. Make sure it’s the right height.”

Oliver threw one leg over the bike and perched

experimentally on the seat.

Oh, what he wouldn’t give right then to be that

seat, tucked up all cozy between those strong thighs.

Drew held up a wrench. “Need me to adjust your

seat?”

Oliver laughed, his teeth very white in his tan

face. “You can adjust my seat anytime, Drew.
Though you might want to use a different tool for the
adjustment.”

Drew’s head spun as all the blood rushed from

his brain to his dick, and what was polite interest
only a moment ago suddenly became a raging hard-
on.

Oliver knew it too. He let his gaze slide down

Drew’s body and linger at his crotch as he licked his
lips.

Oh yeah!

“See something you like?”

“See something you like?”

Oliver blushed, his face going beet red beneath

his tan, and he looked away.

It was totally adorable and only made Drew want

him more.

“I, uh…” Oliver stammered.

“Hey, it’s all good,” Drew said. “If you’re not into

it—”

“No, I am. I mean, yeah, I do, see something I

like.” Oliver met Drew’s gaze and held it despite that
he was still blushing. “Could I maybe take you out
tonight?”

“I’ve got to work tonight.”

“Do you rent many bikes at night?”

Drew laughed. “I work in a bar at night.”

Oliver seemed to relax. His grin reappeared.

“What a coincidence. I drink in a bar at night. Maybe
we could make it the same bar.”

Not likely. He doubted Oliver was ready to meet

Faith up close and personal, and he so did not want
to scare him away.

Drew hesitated.

“If you’d rather not—”

“No, I’d like that. I was just…thinking, is all. I

really can’t hang out while I’m working, but I get off at
eleven, and I could meet you when I’m done.”

“Where at?”

“How about if I call you?”

“Sure. You want my number?”

“I’ve got it on the rental form, remember?”

“Oh, yeah. Duh.” Oliver blushed. “Can I have

yours?”

Drew searched the pockets of his shorts for

something to write on and came up empty. “You
don’t have a pen or anything, do you?”

Oliver shook his head. “Not on me.”

“C’mon inside for a minute. I’ve got pen and

paper in there.” When Oliver hesitated Drew added,
“You can leave the bike there. Nobody’ll bother it.”

Back in the office, Drew reached under the

counter. Grabbing a pad of paper, he straightened
and turned and bumped solidly into Oliver. He’d
joined Drew behind the counter and was standing
way up in his personal space. Not that it was a

way up in his personal space. Not that it was a
problem. Not at all.

Drew inhaled the scents of sunscreen and light

sweat. It was intoxicating, and his head spun. He
swayed.

Oliver steadied him with a hand to the small of

his back. “Easy there. You okay? I didn’t mean to
scare you.”

“Yeah? What did you mean?”

Oliver’s gaze dropped to Drew’s mouth and

lingered. He said nothing as he seared Drew’s lips
with that hot blue gaze.

Dropping the paper to the floor, Drew grabbed

the front of Oliver’s T-shirt and yanked him in for a
kiss.

Their mouths came together so hard their teeth

clicked. And then they were kissing—lips clinging,
tongues sliding, teeth nipping—the contact hot and
urgent and even more thrilling than Drew
remembered from the club.

Oliver pulled him close, molding their bodies

together, a leg sliding between Drew’s thighs and
pressing against his crotch.

Drew rocked against Oliver’s leg and shoved

his hands under the soft cotton of his shirt. His back
was warm and smooth, the skin slightly damp with
sweat. He scraped his nails down Oliver’s back.

Oliver moaned into Drew’s mouth, then pressed

him back against the metal filing cabinet. The drawer
handles dug painfully into Drew’s back and ass, but
he didn’t care. He was too caught up with Oliver’s
hands and mouth and the hard cock pushing against
his belly as they tried to climb inside each other’s
skin.

Who knew how far things might have gone if,

just then, a sound hadn’t interrupted them?

“Ahem.”

Barely suppressing his irritation, Drew took a

step back and turned to the newcomer. There were
two of them actually, a couple of girls. They were
young, tanned, and attractive. They also appeared to
be a couple, if their body language was any
indication. The way they looked at each other, the
closeness of their bodies as they regarded Oliver
and him, spoke of a relationship that went beyond
friendly.

“What can I do for you, ladies?” Drew asked.

“You can go ahead and jump him, if that’s what

you were about to do,” the blonde said with a wide
grin.

“Yeah, don’t let us stop you,” her brunette

girlfriend added. “We can wait.”

“And watch,” the blonde said.

Drew laughed, and so did Oliver, though he also

flushed crimson up to the tips of his ears.

The girls wanted a couple of bikes for the day,

to bike around the island, they said. Drew did the
paperwork with the blonde while Oliver helped the
brunette find a bike that suited her very long legs.

As the girls peddled away, Drew turned to

Oliver and draped an arm over his shoulders. “How
about I jump you now?”

“That sounds like a hell of a good suggestion,”

Oliver said. “But I really have to go. I have a…thing I
have to get to.”

“A thing?”

“Yeah, an appointment.”

“Okay. Hang on. I’ll walk you out.” Drew followed

Oliver back to the garage where the bike lay on its
side in the gravel.

“So where shall I meet you tonight? We’re still

good for tonight, right?” Oliver picked up the bike,
slung one leg over, and propped his foot on the
pedal.

“Definitely,” Drew said. “I’ll call you.”

“Okay, I’ll see you tonight, then.”

“Yeah, see you.”

Drew watched Oliver pedal away, admiring how

the muscles in his thighs stood out and the way that
gorgeous ass perched on the bicycle seat.

Oh yeah, he was so going to see more of this

boy, a lot more.

Chapter Three

Oliver slowed the bike as the club came into

view and thought about the black leather rosebud in
his backpack. He’d bought it on a crazy impulse
from the leather shop down the street, already
knowing on some level what he meant to do with it.
Not that it made it any easier to believe he was
actually doing this.

Even from half a block away, he could see the

drag queen standing outside the entrance to Mango
Mango was not the one who had kissed him. This
queen was tall, probably well over six feet, with
Marilyn Monroe hair and a dress made of some
shimmery material that might have been blue or
green. It was hard to tell from that distance, and the
material seemed to change hue with her every
movement. She was talking to a group of three

young guys, none of whom looked old enough to get
into a club. She said something, and the boys
laughed. Pulling something out of her cleavage, she
handed it to the boy in the center, kissed his cheek,
and patted his ass, which spawned more laughter,
and sent them on their way.

Part of Oliver sighed with relief that the drag

queen was not Faith, the part that couldn’t or
wouldn’t understand the attraction that had brought
him here in the middle of the day looking for a sexy
man in a sparkly dress. But another part, the part
ruled by attraction, understood or not, felt the full
impact of disappointment like a punch to the gut. Still
he pedaled closer, not sure what he meant to say,
not even sure he would stop, but feeling the
magnetism of the attraction all the same.

Oliver swerved the bike toward the side of the

street opposite Mango Mango and braked.

For the moment the blond drag queen stood

alone on the sidewalk in front of the club. He
watched her walk a few paces to a store front and
check her reflection in the window glass. If he was
going to talk to her, to ask about Faith, now was the

time. Screwing up his courage, Oliver got off the
bike, locked it to a nearby rack, and got himself
moving in her direction.

When he was still a good fifteen feet away, and

just as he’d begun to question the wisdom of what he
was doing, the drag queen turned from the window
and saw him. He could tell the exact moment she
spotted him, because her face transformed,
assuming a flirtatious smile and a come-hither
expression, which, even though she wasn’t the one
he’d come for, made his heart race and sweat break
out on his palms.

“Hey there, gorgeous, you want a pass for

tonight’s show?” She waved a peach-colored ticket
at him.

He stopped and out of sheer politeness

accepted the ticket from her. “I saw the show last
night. You were terrific. I loved the pirate number.”

It was just the right thing to say.

“Why thank you, sweetie. Aren’t you the silver-

tongue devil?” She beamed and fluttered her lashes.

Oliver smiled up at her, as she was a good six

or eight inches taller than him. “It’s Samantha, right?”

She nodded. “It is indeed, the one and only.”

He peered past her into the club’s dim interior.

“Are you open, right now, I mean?”

“You mean me personally or the club?” She

winked.

Oliver grinned even as his cheeks heated with

embarrassment. “The club actually.”

“No, we don’t open until later. But if you’d like to

make a reservation, I could—”

“Do you know the other, uh…”

“Performer?” she suggested.

“Yeah, the one with the long dark hair. I think her

name is Faith or something.”

“I do. She and I are like this.” Samantha held up

two fingers to show how close the two of them were.

Oliver’s mouth felt dry as dust. He scraped his

tongue over his parched lips and somehow
managed to get his next question out. “Is she here,
by any chance?”

Samantha’s impeccably shaped brows rose,

but she shook her head. “When it’s not her day to
work the sidewalk, she gets in around seven. Are
you a friend of hers?”

Oliver’s hesitation must have been all the

answer she needed.

She smiled knowingly. “No, but you’d like to be,

wouldn’t you?”

Oliver glanced around. The midday sun beat

down, hot and bright. He imagined he could feel his
brain frying under its relentless rays. Sweat trickled
down his back and pooled under the waistband of
his shorts.

“I’m, uh, not into women.”

“Oh, honey, I can see that. But Faith is no more

woman than I am, or you are for that matter. Come
with me.” Samantha inclined her head toward the
shadowy interior of the club. Though the door stood
open, it looked pretty quiet inside.

What did she want with him?

After only the smallest hesitation, he followed

her.

The dim and cool interior was a relief after the

brilliance of the day.

“You want to sit?” Without waiting for an answer,

Samantha wrapped an arm around his shoulders
and steered him over to a table. Hooking a chair with
her foot, she dragged it out and pushed him into it.

“I don’t know what—” Oliver began.

Samantha held up a hand. “Listen to me,

sweetheart. Just because a boy wears a dress
doesn’t make him any less a boy, or you any less
gay for being attracted to him.”

“But transvestites aren’t—”

“I’m not a tranny, hon. Faith’s not one either. She

wears women’s clothes only when she’s on stage.
And she’s all boy under her skirt. Trust me on this.”

“Then why—”

“You’ll have to ask her yourself. But my point is

you shouldn’t be so freaked because you’re
attracted. Your body knows what your head doesn’t
want to accept. It’s as simple as that.”

“I guess.”

“No. The correct answer is, of course, ‘you’re

absolutely right, Samantha.’” She pointed a scarlet-

tipped nail at him. “Now you.”

He laughed. He couldn’t help it. “You’re

absolutely right, Samantha.”

“Good. Now, you write Faith a note, and I’ll give

it to her when she gets here. How does that sound,
hmm?”

“Actually, I brought her something.” Oliver lifted

his backpack from the floor, opened it, and carefully
removed the black leather rosebud. He held it out to
Samantha. “Would you mind giving this to her?”

“Ooo, very romantic, and kinky too. You want to

write her a note to go with it?”

“Um, not really.”

For a moment he was sure she was going to

give him a hard time, but then she smiled. “Oh, I get
it. You want to be a man of mystery.”

He nodded. “Something like that.”

“Gotcha. But you are going to be at the show

tonight, right?”

“I’ll be here.”

“All rightee, then. I guess we’re done here.”

“I guess.” Recognizing his cue to get going,

Oliver stood and pushed in his chair.

Samantha turned in a swirl of blue-green skirts,

and Oliver followed her back into the sunshine.

As he pedaled back to the house, Samantha’s

words replayed over and over in Oliver’s head.

“

Doesn’t make her any less a boy or you any

less gay for being attracted to her

.”

But was she right? Or had Jonathan been right

when he’d accused Oliver of only playing at being
gay because he wasn’t ready to let Jonathan fuck
him?

They’d done plenty of other things—handjobs

and blowjobs and lots of making out. But when push
came to shove, Oliver hadn’t been ready for what
Jonathan called “The Real Deal.” At the time he’d
told himself it didn’t matter; he wasn’t sure of
Jonathan. But what if it was more than that? And
now, with this weird attraction…

But never mind. He was overthinking things as

usual, and he had plenty of other stuff to think about,
more important stuff.

Oliver slowed the bike as he turned on to

William Street, and the guesthouse came into view.
Shoving away all thoughts of his now ex-boyfriend,
Oliver turned his attention to what he would wear for
his date.

What would it be like to go out with Drew? To

have those hands on him? That mouth on him? And
maybe that cock inside him?

He couldn’t explain his sudden willingness, even

eagerness, to sleep with Drew, given how long and
how strenuously he’d held Jonathan off. Maybe it
was spite, a serves-him-right sort of thing. Except
no, it didn’t feel that way. He hadn’t been ready when
Jon was. It was as simple and as complicated as
that. And given the way their relationship had fallen
apart under the pressure, Oliver was glad they hadn’t
taken that step.

As he stood the bike on its kickstand, Oliver

entertained a brief fantasy in which he went to bed
with the sexy boy from the bike rental place. But as
he tried to conjure Drew’s image in his head, the
pictures got all mixed up, and he found himself
thinking once again of the drag queen with her

slender graceful body, her long legs, and her hard
cock.

Except he was so not going to bed with Faith

Cummings. That was just not going to happen.

Leaving the bike inside the front gate, Oliver

mounted the steps, already digging in his pocket for
the key to his room.

Masculine voices and laughter floated down the

hall. A shiver of unwelcome recognition crept down
his spine, and he paused inside the open front door
to listen. He knew that laugh.

It couldn’t be.

He waited, holding his breath, for proof of what

he already knew in his gut to be true. The voice
came again.

“You don’t need to walk me up. I’m sure I can

find it.”

“It’s part of my job,” Dante said. He appeared in

the office doorway.

Behind him a tall, dark-haired and all too

familiar figure appeared.

Jonathan.

There was no time to duck out, and even if there

was, Oliver felt rooted to the spot, as unable to flee
as the umbrella stand in the corner.

Jonathan’s gaze found him, and a smile curved

his sensual mouth. “Hey, babe. Surprise!”

“What the hell are you doing here?”

Jonathan’s smiled never dimmed. “I’m here for

spring break, just like you.”

“And you’re staying here, in this house?”

“Even better, I’m staying with you.”

Chapter Four

As Drew walked into Mango Mango around five

that afternoon, he hummed the tune of the new song
he would introduce into his show that night. It was a
gypsy number, and he had the perfect dress covered
in a plastic cleaner bag and slung over one shoulder.
Because it was still relatively early, the club was
quiet, the bartenders and waitstaff in the last phases
of prepping for the evening.

As he passed the bar, Drew sent Shane a

wave. The bartender was a friend of his and one of
the first people he’d met when he moved to Key
West right after graduation nearly a year ago.

Shane waved back and pointed at the dress

Drew carried on a hanger over one shoulder.

“Nice,” he mouthed, then crooked a finger.

“That’s some dress,” Shane said when Drew

joined him at the bar.

“You like it?” Drew held it up so Shane could get

a better look. “It’s for Faith’s new number.”

The bartender nodded as he continued to polish

the glass in his hand. “Sexy. You’ll have ’em coming
in their pants.”

Drew grinned. “Not me, man. Faith.”

“Whatever you say, dude.” Shane set the glass

down beside the others, picked up a rag, and began
to wipe down the already spotless bar. “Ms.
Cummings sure knows how to package her wares,
though.”

“I’ll be sure and tell her you said so.”

“Speaking of which.” Shane reached under the

bar and produced a newspaper. He slapped it on
the bar. “Nice pic of you in the article.”

“What art—Oh.” Drew stared at the full-page

photograph of Faith in all her feathered and
sequined glory. “I forgot that article was coming out
this week.”

The local paper was running a series of articles

on the club scene, spotlighting a different club every
week with a rundown on what made the featured
hotspot special and unique. Of course for Mango
Mango, the reporter had concentrated on the drag
shows.

“You haven’t seen it yet?” Shane asked.

Drew shook his head. “Not yet. Is it good?”

“See for yourself.” Shane pushed the paper

across the bar. “Randy already put a copy up on the
board out front.”

Drew snorted a laugh. “Yeah, he would. You

sure you don’t mind if I take this copy?”

“Go ahead. I already read it. Besides, nobody

took my picture for the front page.”

“Yeah, well, maybe if you wore a dress while you

worked the bar…”

“Shhh, don’t let Randy hear you. He’ll start

getting ideas.”

“Is he around?”

“Yeah, he’s in the office. But I think there’s

somebody in there with him.”

“Who?”

“Who?”

Shane shrugged. “No clue. Some little hottie.

Looks just like Randy’s type. I didn’t get his name,
though.”

Drew grinned. He knew exactly what Shane

meant by “Randy’s type.” He didn’t even have to see
the guy to know what he would look like.

“Hmm, no big.” Drew picked up the paper and,

after hooking the hanger over one finger, headed for
the office.

Just as he reached the short hallway leading to

the kitchen, storerooms and the manager’s office,
the first door on the left opened, and a dark-haired
young man emerged, followed closely by Randy
wearing his patented I’m-the-club-manager smile.
The kid must be interviewing for a job.

Randy had a hand on the dark-haired kid’s

shoulder and was laughing at something, a big
hearty ha-ha-ha Drew knew to be totally fake.

“Hey, Drew, glad you’re here.” The hand

dropped away, and Randy didn’t meet Drew’s eyes.

Uh-oh. That was not a good sign.

“I’d like you to meet Danny Soul,” Randy said.

“Danny, this is Drew Lee. He’s our star drag queen.”

The kid’s eyes widened, and his mouth fell

open. “You’re Faith Cummings? Really?”

Drew nodded. The kid had pretty eyes, big and

blue and fringed with thick dark lashes.

“Wow, I’ve seen your show, and I have to tell

you, I think you’re totally amazing.”

“Yeah, thanks. Appreciate it.” Drew felt the smile

break across his face, the flush of pride and
pleasure unmistakable.

“That’s a terrific article.” Danny gestured at the

paper Drew held. “I love the pic of you.” The kid’s
face flushed. “God, sorry, I don’t mean to go all
fanboy on you. I just love Faith so much. She’s so
amazing. Really.”

“Thanks,” Drew said again. He shifted his

attention back to Randy. “What’s the matter with
you?”

“Me? Nothing. I’m good. It’s all good.”

Yeah, riiiight. Something was very definitely

up, but what?

“So I guess I’ll see you guys next Tuesday, then.”

Danny favored Drew with a dazzling smile before
turning back to Randy. “Unless there was something
else you needed from me.”

“Nope, not a thing.” Randy clapped Danny on

the shoulder. “Take it easy, and we’ll see you then.”

Drew and Randy watched in silence as Danny

wound his way through the scattering of tables
toward the exit.

The kid—he couldn’t be more than twenty-one—

was slim and very nearly pretty in an androgynous
way. In fact, with some eye makeup, a bit of color on
his cheeks and lips, and a slinky dress, not unlike the
one Drew held in his hand at that very moment…

Yeah, the kid was Randy’s type, all right.

“Mm-mm, that is a mighty fine looking boy, if I do

say so.” Randy sighed gustily and rubbed a hand
over his heart.

Cripes, it was like Randy had read his mind.

“Bet he looks amazing in a dress and heels.”

Randy shrugged. “I suppose, sure.”

Huh, no reaction. That was weird.

“I guess we’ll find out soon enough.” Drew

“I guess we’ll find out soon enough.” Drew

shifted the hanger to his opposite hand. “Where are
you putting him in the show?

Randy studied his fingernails and didn’t answer

for a long moment. At last he said, “Danny’s not a
drag queen, technically speaking.”

“What do you mean?”

Randy mumbled something, glanced up then

away. “Is that the dress for the Gypsy number?”

“Yeah, it is. But quit trying to change the subject.

Is he in the show or not? And if not, then what did you
hire him for?”

“No, he’s not technically in the show.” The cell

phone clipped to Randy’s belt trilled. He put a hand
to it, tilting it up and peering at the display. “Oh, shit,
baby, I need to take this—”

“No, you don’t.” Drew grabbed Randy by the

sleeve of his lemon-colored silk shirt. “I asked you a
question, Randy. What did you hire him for?”

“Careful, sweetie. I just got this shirt.” Randy

tried to pull free, finally managed it, and took a step
back as if he meant to retreat into the office.

Most of the old-time drag queens had done their

own singing. A few still did, but those days were
over. These days practically everything was lip-
synch, and that wasn’t what Drew wanted. It wasn’t
enough to satisfy his performer’s heart.

Drew followed Randy. “You hired him to sing. I

can see it. It’s all over your face. He’s the new female
impersonator, isn’t he? The spot you promised to
me.”

“It’s not like that.” Randy reached behind him,

opened the door to the office, and backed inside.

“No? Then what’s it like?”

“Drew—”

Randy tried to shove the door closed, but Drew

shouldered his way into the office, then kicked it shut
after him. “You prick! You said when Lyle left, I could
have that spot on Tuesday and Thursday, I could quit
the drag show and sing. That’s what you said. You
promised.”

Randy backed around the desk. “I said we’d talk

about it. I never promised—”

“Bullshit.” Drew stalked him. “That is not what

you said. And even if it was, which it wasn’t, we

didn’t talk about it. You just went and hired pretty-boy
Danny to sing in my place. You are such a lying
asshole.”

“I am not. I never promised you that spot. And

wait till you hear the kid sing. He’s amazing.”

“I don’t care if he’s the next Barbra Streisand.”

“Calm down, will you? Don’t go all screaming

queen on me, sweetheart.”

Drew opened his mouth to tell him what he

could do with his screaming-queen comment, but
Randy rolled right over him.

“Listen, baby, you know how important you are

around here, how before we hired you, we were on
the verge of shutting the doors for good, and now
Faith’s got ’em lining up.”

“Yeah, Faith, not me.”

Randy rolled his eyes heavenward. “I don’t know

why you insist on making that silly distinction. Faith
Cummings wouldn’t exist without you, and without
her, you’d be stuck running that little bike shop
across town. But you’re not. You’re a star, baby, and
the audiences adore you. You’re a born performer,

and we’d be totally screwed without your pretty face
in the place.”

“But Randy, I want to perform as myself. I want

my name on the bill, not Faith’s, mine. And I want to
sing, not lip-synch. You know that. You’ve always
known it.”

And that was what stung the worst—Randy

knew about Drew’s dream and had encouraged him.
And yeah, Randy had promised to help him make
his dream come true.

“Listen, baby—”

“I don’t want to listen.” Drew turned away. He did

not want Randy to see how disappointed he was. “I
should fucking quit.”

“Will you wait one damn minute?” Randy caught

Drew’s arm and spun him around.

“Don’t.”

“Don’t my ass. I know how much you wanted that

slot. I do. And I know how good you are. But I also
know drag is not your cuppa, that you’re only doing it
until something better comes along. And trust me,
sweetheart, something will come along, something

better than wasting your talent in this dump.”

“So… What? You’re saying you didn’t give me

the job because I’m too good for this place? Are you
kidding?”

Randy nodded. “Well, yes, but not only that.”

“What, then?” He could not believe he was

listening to this bullshit.

“I sort of ‘had to’ hire Danny.” Randy made air

quotes around the words

had to

. “You see, Danny is

Gregory’s… You know?”

“No, I don’t know. Spell it out for me.”

Gregory was the longtime owner of Mango

Mango, a silver-haired bear whose taste for pretty
young things was nothing short of legend among his
employees and friends.

Randy sighed as if he were the most put-upon

man on the island. “Apparently the two of them met in
Fort Lauderdale when Gregory was up there a month
or two ago. They hit it off, and when he came back,
he brought Danny with him.”

“So you’re telling me I lost out to Gregory’s

latest fuck boy?”

“You know it won’t last,” Randy said, avoiding

the question. “They never do. Gregory will get bored
like he always does and send the kid home. Then,
once he’s gone—”

“Wait.” Drew raised his hand. “Don’t make

promises you can’t keep. We’ve been down that
road, and I’m not going there again.”

“Oh, baby.” Randy reached out and cupped

Drew’s cheek.

Drew slapped the hand away and stepped

back. He was so not doing this. “Don’t.”

“C’mon, sweetheart. You wouldn’t quit on me,

would you?”

Drew opened his mouth to say he damn well

would. But before he could, someone knocked on
the office door.

The door opened, and Shane poked his head

in. “Call for you at the bar, Randy.”

“I’ll be right there,” Randy said. He turned to

Drew. “We’ll continue this later, yeah?”

No, we won’t.

“Whatever,” Drew said and gathered up his

dress before rushing from the office.

Chapter Five

Backstage in the performers’ dressing room,

Drew peered at his reflection in the makeup mirror
and adjusted his waist-length curly black wig. He
hated the wig. It was hot, and it made his head itch.
But at least the dark color better matched his exotic
looks and golden skin tone than the blond one Randy
had been pushing him to wear.

Randy. That weasel.

When he’d left the office that afternoon, Drew

had been more hurt and disappointed than angry.
Now he was just plain pissed off. He should have
fucking quit. That was what he should have done. It
would have served them right if he’d thrown the
dress in Randy’s face and told him to find himself
another drag queen. Hell, let pretty-boy Danny MC
the show if he was all that.

Danny would look good in the blond wig.

Fucker.

But he was not going to think about that, not

now. He had a show to do and a date afterward with
his very own blond college-boy hottie.

Drew smoothed his hands down the clingy red-

and-gold-and-green-patterned gown hugging his
false titties and skimming over his slender hips like a
lover’s hands, like Oliver’s hands. What would his
college boy say if he could see him now? Would he
think it was hot? Or would he think Drew was a
freak? If he did, he certainly wouldn’t be the first.

Not that it mattered, because Oliver was a

spring fling and would never find out about his alter
ego, the glamorous persona he assumed when he
stepped on stage. To him Drew was the boy from
the bike shop, and maybe, hopefully, his spring-
break hook-up.

Drew heard a sound behind him and turned just

as Samantha poked her head into the dressing
room. “There you are. I’ve been looking all over for
you.”

“I’m right here.” Turning back to the mirror, Drew

picked up a black liner pencil and carefully lined his
lashes.

The beaded curtain clicked and swung as Sam

pushed through and entered the cramped space.
“Ooo, very sexy, hon. Love the dress. Is that for the
gypsy number?”

“Yeah, you like it?”

“I do. You are the second sexiest queen in this

whole damn show.”

“Only the second sexiest?”

“Next to me, of course.”

“Of course.” They grinned at each other in the

mirror.

“I have something for you.”

“Yeah? What?” Drew rummaged in his makeup

bag, found his red lip liner, and lined his lips.
Dropping the liner, he picked up a tube of scarlet
scandal lipstick, uncapped it, and filled in the outline.

“It’s a present from your secret admirer.”

“Who’s my secret admirer?”

“You tell me.” Sam brought her hand from

behind her back and held up a flower. “Ta-da!”

“Hey, isn’t that one of those leather roses they

sell down the street?” Drew reached for the flower.

“I believe it is.”

“So who left it for me?”

“Some blond hunk with shoulders out to here.”

Sam spread her hands. “And the most adorable little
ass you ever saw.”

“Did he have a name?”

She shrugged. “I imagine so, but he didn’t say

who he was, just came by to sniff around after you,
asked a bunch of questions, and left the flower.
Though I did give him a free pass, and he said he’d
be here tonight.”

Drew thought of Oliver, who was blond with

amazing shoulders. Was it possible? Maybe. Yeah
right, if only.

“Well, even if he is here, I have plans for later

tonight.”

“Oh, really?” Sam arched a brow. “Anybody I

know?”

“Nope. I just met him. He’s a spring breaker.”

“When it rains it pours,” Samantha said with a

wistful sigh. “Lucky you.”

Yeah, lucky him.

Drew stuck the rose in an empty wine bottle on

the dressing table. “How much time do I have,
Sam?”

Samantha glanced at her watch. “About two

minutes. Shall I tell Randy you’re all set?”

Randy. Drew frowned at Faith’s image in the

glass.

Don’t think about him.

He consciously smoothed his expression and

nodded. “Yeah, tell him I’m ready.”

As Samantha disappeared, Drew plucked the

leather rosebud from the wine bottle and tucked it in
his fake cleavage. Stepping over to the full-length
mirror, he studied the effect with a critical eye. He
liked the extra pizzazz of the leather blossom
between his fake boobs. If his secret admirer was in
the audience tonight, Drew wanted him to know his
gift had been received and appreciated.

Sliding his feet into his gold sequined high

heels, Drew clicked across the wood floor, swished
the beads aside, and left the dressing room. He
stood backstage and waited for his cue. As the
music came up and Randy’s voice boomed through
the club, he peeked through a slit in the curtain.

The club was packed. Every table, as far as

Drew could see, was occupied, and the waitstaff
looked like they had their hands full. Waiters and
waitresses rushed through the narrow spaces
between the tables, trays held high.

They had only one show tonight. Thank

goodness. He should be out of there by no later than
eleven thirty, after which he would call Oliver.

And here was his cue.

“And now, ladies and gentlemen, please

welcome your hostess for the evening, Faith
Cummings!”

Lights flashed, music came up, and Drew

stepped through the curtain. Sashaying to center
stage, he scanned the faces of the patrons seated at
the front tables. He smiled and blew kisses as he
picked up his mic and made as if he meant to suck it
like a cock.

The audience went crazy, applauding and

whistling and cheering.

Drew felt the now familiar rush of being onstage,

the thrill of the lights and the music, the adulation of
the crowd and the heart-pounding excitement of
knowing that he was the center of all that attention. It
was time to let the tiger out of the cage.

“Hello, my darlings,” Drew called in Faith’s

seductive contralto. “How is everyone tonight? Are
you all ready to have a good time?”

More cheering. They loved Faith. She was their

girl.

“That’s great, because we’ve got a fantastic

show for you tonight!” Drew smiled and began to
slither around the stage as the intro music faded.
Scott, the DJ, started Drew’s music, and he began
to dance.

He lip-synched, danced, and flirted his way

through his first and second numbers.

As his second song ended, Drew saw Randy

signaling him from offstage. The next act wasn’t
ready. He needed to stall them.

Drew sighed and walked to the edge of the

stage.

“Are y’all having fun?” Applause and shouts of

“yeah!” and “you bet, baby!”

“That’s good. That’s good.”

He had a rap he’d worked up specifically for

times like this, and he launched into it with apparent
gusto. No one would guess he was already thinking
about his date with Oliver even as he soaked up the
love of the crowd.

“Okay, my darlings, let’s see a show of hands.

How many gay boys in the audience tonight? C’mon
now, where are my gay boys? Hands up so I can see
you. I need to decide who is going to escort me
home tonight.”

There were whistles and catcalls from all around

the floor. He flirted outrageously with a silver-haired
gentleman at a front table. A big blond guy grabbed
Drew’s ass as he strolled among the tables and
continued to chat up the crowd. Drew paused and let
the guy tuck a dollar down between his boobs. When
the guy’s other hand made a grab for Drew’s
package, he brought his stiletto down on the

asshole’s instep before turning in a swish of sequins
and dancing back to the stage.

At last the next act was ready. He introduced the

three girls who would do the pirate number, then
slinked offstage with a wave and smile for the
audience.

The rest of the show passed in a blur. Drew

changed costumes, glugged water, freshened his
makeup, and fought for space in the cramped
backstage, all the while thinking of his sexy blond
college boy.

At last they wrapped up the show finale, a

spectacular number in which all the drag performers
appeared together in all their sequined and
feathered glory, and Drew was free to leave the
stage and begin working the crowd for tips.

He was leaning in, accepting a tip from a burly

guy with a buzz cut when he saw it. At a table in the
back, a familiar head of sun-streaked hair atop
broad shoulders.

Oliver. And, just Drew’s luck, he was holding up

a dollar, holding it way up to make sure it would be

seen.

Oh. Shit.

For a split second Drew considered pretending

he hadn’t seen Oliver or the dollar. But the way he
was waving it around, a blind guy on a galloping
horse couldn’t miss it. So no way could he get away
with that.

Taking a deep breath, Drew danced over to

Oliver’s table.

His skirt, a slinky slither of black fabric and

silver bugle beads, swished as he danced, the thigh-
high slits in each side revealing lots of leg and
sparkly fishnet stockings. He tried his best to avert
his face as he bent close enough for Oliver to slip the
bill into the neckline of his gown alongside the
leather rosebud.

“I think you’re totally amazing,” Oliver said,

raising his voice to be heard above the music.

So this was his moment of truth.

Drew turned and met Oliver’s eyes. In their sea

blue depths, there was no recognition, none
whatsoever. Clearly he had no clue that the drag

queen leaning over him and the boy he had a date
with in less than thirty minutes were one and the
same. And that was fine with Drew.

“Thank you, sweetheart.”

On an impulse, Drew pulled the leather rosebud

from among the bills tucked into his cleavage and
slipped it into the neck of Oliver’s T-shirt before he
turned and danced away.

Now, that had been too freakin’ close.

Backstage Drew hurried to remove his makeup

and his costume, all the while thanking his lucky stars
for that far too narrow escape.

As he tissued away the last of his eyeliner,

Drew practiced what he would say when, if, Oliver
questioned him about his drag persona. He was a
performer. He loved being on stage, loved the
applause and the adulation of the crowd. He loved
the lights and the stage, the clothes and the glamour.
He loved Faith’s in-your-face sensuality, her bold
and brazen sexuality. He loved the way he felt when
he was her. And if he had to defend that feeling to
Oliver, then defend it he would.

Again he wondered what Oliver’s reaction

would be if he knew.

“Hey, hon.” Samantha’s face, still in full makeup,

appeared over Drew’s shoulder in the mirror.
“Fabulous show. You were really on tonight.”

“You too.” Drew dropped a wad of tissues in the

trash can.

“What happened to your flower?”

“I gave it to a guy in the audience.”

“Oh?” Samantha’s brows lifted. “Do tell.”

“His name’s Oliver. He’s my spring break guy,

the one I met this afternoon.”

“Really? So he’s your new dick? The one you

have the date with?” Samantha reached past Drew,
plucked a tissue from the box on the dressing table,
and scrubbed at her lipstick.

“He’s not my new dick yet. But I’m hopeful for

tonight.”

“Mmm, hot?”

“Very. Blond, amazing shoulders.”

“Really.” Sam hummed thoughtfully. “Think he

could be the flower guy?”

“I don’t know. I was sort of wondering the same

thing.”

“You going to ask him?”

“How can I do that without telling him about me

and Faith? ‘Oh, by the way, Ollie, did you give a
leather rose to a drag queen this afternoon? You
did? Oh yeah, she’s me, I’m her, whatever.’ That
would be good.”

“You don’t want to tell him about Faith.”

“Not unless I know for sure he’s not going to

think I’m a freak.”

“Like Taylor did.” Sam shook her head.

“Sweetie, your ex was an asshole. You need to get
past all that crap he fed you about Faith.”

“I am. I mean, I have. But that doesn’t mean I

didn’t learn something from it.”

“Like what?”

Like not to let people too close, not until he

knew what he was dealing with. And that had been a
valuable lesson, one he wouldn’t soon forget.

Drew shrugged. “I want to know how he feels

Drew shrugged. “I want to know how he feels

about the drag thing before I tell him about me and
Faith.”

“And how are you going to do that?”

“Hell if I know.”

Samantha tapped a finger against her lips.

“Well, you could ask him where he got the flower
when you meet him for your date. Then you can feel
him out about the drag show.”

“Or I could just feel him out, or up.”

She rolled her eyes. “Ha-ha. If you’re finished

there, get a move on so I can fix my face before my
fella gets here.”

“You bet.” Drew pushed back the vanity seat

and stood.

Nudging him aside, Sam took her place at the

mirror, uncapped the eye makeup remover, and
began removing her stage makeup.

As he pushed aside the beaded curtain, she

gave him a little finger wave in the mirror. “Have fun,
sweetie. And don’t forget to be safe.”

Dressed in his regular clothes and with his face

cleansed of makeup, Drew started to walk out to the

bar, then paused. How weird would it look if he
happened to be here in the very same club where
Oliver was? Too weird, he decided and changed his
course.

He slipped out through the kitchen and stopped

in the alley behind the club and pulled his cell from
his pocket. He dialed Oliver’s number, which he’d
programmed into his phone, and waited.

Ring. Ring. Ring.

The ringing stopped, and he heard Oliver’s

voice, yelling over the music.

“Hello?”

“Ollie, it’s me, Drew. I just got off work. Where

are you?”

“Hold on. I can’t hear you. Let me call you right

back.”

“No, just tell me where you are, and I’ll come.”

“I’m at a place called Mango Mango, at the bar.”

“I know the place. I’ll be right there. Give me ten

minutes.”

The minutes ticked away slowly. Drew kept

checking his phone, and when eight minutes had
passed, he left the alley, circled to the front of the
club, and went in.

“Hey, doll!” one of the waitresses, a very butch

little blonde named Cassie, hailed him. “Fantastic
show tonight. You were totally hot.”

“Thanks, Cass.” Drew smiled and inwardly

cursed himself for his stupidity. He’d have to get
Oliver out of Mango Mango right fucking now unless
he wanted to risk being busted by one of his well-
meaning coworkers.

He spotted his college boy immediately,

perched on a stool at the far end of the bar. He was
at that very moment being chatted up by none other
than Taylor, the bar manager and Drew’s ex-
boyfriend.

Wasn’t that just fucking great?

Drew gritted his teeth. He could still hear

Taylor’s protestations that he had no problem with
drag queens. He just didn’t want to date one. As if
Drew’s onstage persona somehow reflected badly
on him.

As Drew watched, Taylor threw back his head

and laughed at something Oliver was saying.

“Oh, I don’t think so,” Drew said and made a

beeline for the other side of the bar.

Drew reached his target in time to hear Taylor

say, “So, I get off at two, if you want to do something.
We could go back to my place and—”

Wedging his body into a space that wasn’t

really a space, Drew sent his ex a back-the-hell-off
glare and touched Oliver’s arm. “Hey, Ollie, how’s it
going?”

Oliver turned, his smile lighting his features and

taking him from good-looking to blazing hot in the
space of a heartbeat. “Drew, hey, I was starting to
think you stood me up.”

“No way, babe.” Drew ran a hand up Oliver’s

arm and let it rest at his nape, a clearly possessive
gesture that was meant to send a signal to the
interloper. Hands off. This one’s mine.

Oliver smiled, his gaze locked with Drew’s for

the space of several heartbeats.

“Yo, Doobie,” Taylor interrupted. “You two know

each other?”

“Yeah, we do,” Drew said before turning his

attention back to Oliver. “You ready to get out of
here?”

“Chill, man,” Taylor said. He produced a rag and

began to wipe down the bar. “He hasn’t finished his
drink.”

Oliver glanced from Drew to Taylor and back.

“Doobie?”

“It’s just a nickname,” Drew said.

Taylor laughed.

Drew ground his teeth. He was not going to let

Taylor get to him, not tonight.

Oliver must have seen something in Drew’s

expression. He said, “I’m ready. We can go now, if
you want.”

“Don’t let him rush you,” the bartender said.

“Finish your drink.”

“No, really, I’m good. I don’t guess I need any

more.” Oliver reached into his pocket, produced
some bills, and laid them on the bar.

Taylor dismissed him with a wave. “Put your

Taylor dismissed him with a wave. “Put your

money away. I told you, this one’s on the house.”

“Thanks.” Oliver slid off his stool and reached

for Drew’s hand. “Let’s get out of here.”

“Sounds good to me.” Drew tugged Oliver

through the crowd to the exit and out the door. Still
hand in hand, they joined the throng of people
walking along Duval Street.

Chapter Six

As they walked Oliver tried to look everywhere

at once. He couldn’t help it. There was eye candy in
every direction, beautiful men of all shapes and sizes
moved along Duval in pairs and small groups. A
leather daddy led his boy toy on a leash while a
group of college students staggered along, leaning
on each other as they sang a raunched-up version of
their school song at maximum volume. There were
lesbians too, many more butch than the men, though
they didn’t really interest him much. But the boys
dressed as girls? It seemed that was his new
favorite kink, one he hadn’t even known he had, at
least until he got here to Key West.

“Hey, you look like a bobblehead doll.” Letting

go his hand, Drew wrapped an arm around Oliver’s
waist so they walked hip to hip. It felt thrillingly

intimate.

“I can’t help it. I’ve never seen anything like this.

Where I come from I can’t even hold my boyfriend’s
hand on the street.”

“Where do you come from?”

“Pennsylvania. That’s where I go to school.”

“Yeah? What do you go to school for?”

“Hotel management. I’m graduating in May.”

“So you’re almost done. Cool. Got a job yet?”

“Not yet. I’ve had some interviews, but I’m still

looking.”

Drew was quiet for several minutes before he

asked, “And you have a boyfriend? Why isn’t he here
with you?”

“I used to have a boyfriend. But I don’t have him

anymore.”

“Hmm?”

“We broke up.” He did not want to talk about

Jonathan or why specifically they had broken up,
especially now.

They had planned the trip months ago, back

when the relationship was solid, or at least when
Oliver had believed it was solid. Then a month ago
he’d discovered Jon’s extracurricular activities, and
they broke up.

After that, Oliver hadn’t even much wanted to go

on the trip. But since he had interviews set up, he’d
made up his mind to go anyway. He had even
offered to pay Jonathan for his half of the room, an
offer Jon had flatly refused, and now Oliver knew
why. The jerk had probably been planning all along to
drop in on him. What he had not done and now über
regretted, was remove Jon’s name from the
reservation, which was why the asshole had been
able to check in without Oliver’s knowledge.

Jonathan had, of course, refused to leave, so

Oliver had spent most of the day looking for other
accommodations. But even with Dante’s help, he’d
come up empty. Everything was totally booked for
spring break. He had no idea where he’d sleep
tonight, unless Drew…

“So, where’d you get the flower?”

Oliver jumped. “Flower? What?”

Drew flicked a fingertip over the leather rosebud

still sticking out of the neck of Oliver’s T-shirt. “Yeah,
flower.”

Shit. He’d sort of forgotten about that.

“Oh, I…uh, one of the drag queens gave it to

me.”

“At Mango Mango?”

Oliver nodded.

“You saw the show, then?”

Another nod.

Say something, idiot!

“Yeah, I was walking around this afternoon, and

somebody gave me a free pass to get in and see
the show. Since you weren’t getting off until eleven, I
thought I’d check it out.”

There. That sounded casual enough, like he

hadn’t really meant to go to the drag show. Didn’t it?

“So what did you think?” Drew slid his hand into

Oliver’s back pocket.

To Oliver it felt like a thrillingly intimate gesture.

He let their hips bump.

“About?”

“The drag show. What did you think?”

“They’re all really talented, the drag queens, I

mean.”

Drew laughed and squeezed Oliver’s butt.

“Yeah, but did you think it was hot? All those pretty
boys in makeup and heels. Did that turn you on?”

Oliver swallowed, the memory of Faith in his

arms suddenly so vivid he could almost feel her, that
lean male body, those soft knowing lips. He
shrugged.

“What’s the shrug mean?”

“I don’t know. Why do guys want to wear

women’s clothes anyway?”

“You mean like that?” Drew pointed with his free

hand.

A blond teetered past on skyscraper heels.

She? He? Wore a teeny tiny red mini and a
matching tank top.

“Roll your tongue back in, babe.” Pulling his

hand from Oliver’s pocket, Drew gave his ass a
sharp smack.

He jumped, and so did his cock. “Ow! Shit.

That’s a boy?”

“You bet it is.”

Oliver felt the heat climb into his cheeks. He

craned his neck so as not to lose sight of the blond.
“Down here I can’t tell the boys from the girls half the
time.”

“It’s easy to tell,” Drew said. “The boys have no

hips.”

“Really?”

Oliver turned. The blond in the red mini had

stopped and was talking to a guy sitting on the
sidewalk with a guitar and a donation can. And yeah,
he could see it now. Despite the presence of very
small, very perky breasts—which he would have
mistaken as real—Blondie had no hips. He, very
definitely he, was straight up and down. And the
thought of what was under the little skirt had Ollie’s
dick going from half-mast to full sail in a heartbeat.

What was up with that? He’d never been into

this kind of thing before. Never.

Samantha’s words came back to him.

“

Just as much boy as you are

.”

He turned around quickly, but it seemed not

quickly enough. He found Drew studying him, his
eyes filled with speculation, and a small smile
playing around his lips.

“You like that little blond, huh?”

“I was only looking to see if I could see what you

meant is all.”

“Hmm, and could you?”

“Yeah, I think so.”

Drew watched him for a long moment, long

enough Oliver wanted to squirm under the scrutiny of
those intense dark eyes. Somehow he managed not
to.

At last Drew asked, “So who gave you the

flower?”

He wasn’t prepared for the left turn the

conversation had taken. He touched the flower
sticking out of his T-shirt neckline. “I told you, one of
the drag queens.”

“Yeah, but which one?”

“You know them?”

“It’s a small island. Everybody knows everybody

on some level. So who was it?”

on some level. So who was it?”

“The dark-haired one. I think her name is Faith

or something.”

“No shit.” Drew laughed. “Small world. She’s my

roommate.”

Oliver stopped dead and stared. “For real? You

live with a drag queen?”

“Sure. What’s wrong with that?”

“Nothing. I just… Nothing’s wrong with it. I guess

everybody has to live somewhere, right?”

Faith was Drew’s roommate. What were the

odds of that? And more to the point, would he meet
her if they went back to Drew’s place?

“So,” Oliver said, keeping his tone casual so he

didn’t betray his sudden excitement. “What are we
going to do now?”

“That depends.”

“On?”

“You, mostly. I know some guys who are having

a party. It should be just getting good. We could go
there. Or we could go somewhere and dance. Do
you like to dance?”

“I’m not a big dancer,” Oliver admitted. “But we

could do that, if you want.”

“You know what I really want?”

“Tell me.”

Drew stopped and, turning to face Oliver,

caught both his hands and held them. He leaned in
close, so close his lips brushed Oliver’s ear.

“I want to get you naked and make you moan.

Want to moan for me, baby?”

Bingo!

Oliver shivered, and his pulse began to thrum.

“Yeah, I do.” Turning his head, he touched his

lips to the corner of Drew’s jaw. “Can we go to your
place, like right now?”

“I told you, I have a roommate,” Drew said.

“What about your room?”

Oliver thought of Jonathan and his current

unresolved room dilemma. There was no way, even
if the asshole wasn’t there, he could take Drew back
to the guesthouse. No way did he want the two of
them running into Jonathan. But he did want to run
into Faith, though it wouldn’t do to say so.

“I’m afraid I have a roommate too.” Oliver

dredged up a smile and pushed a little harder. “You
think she’ll be there?”

“I don’t know what her plans are. But it’s her

night.”

“What do you mean, her night?”

“The condo is pretty small, so we have a sort of

agreement where we alternate weeks, and this is her
week. But I have another idea.”

“What is it?”

“Never mind. Just come with me. You’ll see.”

The crowd flowed around them as Drew led him

along the street. But before they reached the corner,
Drew ducked into a side street that was no more
than an alley, towing Oliver with him.

“Where are we going?”

The question had barely left Oliver’s lips when

Drew rounded another corner and tugged him into a
narrow space between two buildings.

But before Oliver had a chance to repeat his

question, he found himself shoved against a wall with
Drew’s lips on his and Drew’s tongue in his mouth,

the kiss hot and urgent and all consuming. And
somehow…familiar?

But of course it was familiar. He’d kissed Drew

before, just that morning in the bike-rental place.

He felt Drew’s hands as they rucked up his shirt,

clever fingers pinching, then twisting his nipples.

Oliver gasped into Drew’s mouth.

God, it was like a red-hot wire connected his

nipples with his dick, and he was hard in seconds,
fully, achingly hard and longing for release, ready to
beg for it if necessary.

He whimpered.

“You like that, baby?” Drew murmured against

his mouth. “You like some pain with your pleasure?”

He did, though he hadn’t known it about himself,

not until that moment, not until this man. He tried to
say so, to acknowledge what Drew already seemed
to know by instinct. But as he opened his mouth,
Drew slid his hand down the front of Oliver’s pants
and wrapped strong fingers around his shaft. All
thought instantly deserted him, and Oliver was
rendered speechless.

“Uhng.” It was all he could manage.

“God, I’ve been dying to get my hands on you

again. So fucking sexy.”

Drew kissed him again, a long hot kiss with lots

of tongue and the sharp sting of teeth.

Again Oliver thought of the drag queen, the hot,

sweet mouth, the lean, hard body under the padding
and false tits. He let himself imagine what it would be
like to yank her skirt up and—

Stop it! God

, he was with Drew, not some

stranger in a dress! Drew was sexy as sin, and
Oliver wanted him like crazy, like right now.

But still, God, that mouth!

No, this mouth! Drew’s mouth!

Except they couldn’t do this here.

“We can’t.” Oliver gripped Drew’s wrist, tried to

muster the will to push his hand away, but couldn’t
manage it.

Somehow the button and zip on his pants had

gotten undone, and Oliver found himself completely
exposed, his package cradled lovingly in Drew’s
palm.

“Yes, we can. We are.” Drew nipped at Oliver’s

bottom lip. “I want you right here, just like this, where
anybody might see us.”

“Here?” Oliver’s voice squeaked. He was

mortified. He cleared his throat. “Here? We can’t do
it here. There are people right over… Aaah. Shit,
Drew. You’re making me crazy.”

Drew stroked, caressed, cajoled. He rolled

Oliver’s balls between his fingers, gripped his shaft,
and squeezed almost to the point of hurting. His
touch was strong and sure as if he’d been touching
Oliver for years, all his life even.

“Don’t be so paranoid. I could suck you off right

here. Get down on my knees, and nobody would
care.”

“I care. Drew—”

“Okay, look, I’ll stand like this, and they won’t

even see.” Drew angled his body, blocking the view
from the mouth of the alley. “And I’ll use my hand.
Want to come in my hand, Oliver?”

Still uncertain, Oliver glanced back toward the

street. He’d never done anything like this, not

outside. It was so…thrilling.

He wavered. “Well…”

It was then Drew’s cock slid against his, hard

hot flesh against hard hot flesh, both gripped in
Drew’s fist.

“You want me to stop?” Drew stroked, once,

twice. “If you want me to stop, I will. Just say the
word.”

“Uhng.” It was turning into his favorite word all of

a sudden.

Oliver looked back toward the mouth of the alley

where the lights from the club across the street
flashed green and blue and purple neon. Music
thump, thump, thumped from somewhere in the not
too far distance. Someone laughed, a high shrill
sound. But they were alone in the mostly shadowed
depths of the alley, a good twenty or twenty-five feet
from the hubbub on the street and around the side of
a building.

And oh, Christ, but it felt so damn good. The

pressure of Drew’s fingers, the pulsing heat and

hardness of his cock. It was like a small slice of
heaven right here in the alley off Duval Street.

“So? What’ll it be?” Drew flicked his tongue in

Oliver’s ear, sending an electric shiver down his
spine and straight to his balls.

Oliver’s hips snapped forward; his dick thrust

into Drew’s hand. “Don’t stop.”

Drew chuckled. “But what if somebody sees? I

thought you were shy.”

“Not shy. Don’t care. Just…God, don’t stop.

Need to… Oh!” Oliver squeezed his eyes shut. His
head felt back and bonked against the wall. Maybe it
would have hurt, maybe it should have hurt, but by
then he was too far gone to care about anything but
the man who was taking him flying.

“Want to come for me, baby, my shy college

boy? Want to come for me right now, right here,
where anybody might see us?” The questions were
accompanied by faster, firmer stroking from Drew’s
hand, the hand that seemed to know exactly how
Ollie liked to be touched.

Drew’s leg slipped between Oliver’s, a hard

thigh pressed against his crotch.

Ollie rocked against Drew’s leg, thrust into his

hand. Someone was moaning. Was it really him?
Right out here, so close to where people walked and
talked, laughed and jostled one another? It was.

“Come for me, baby. You know you want to.”

Drew nipped at Oliver’s ear, the tiny pain shooting
sparks along his nerve endings, ratcheting up his
need until he could no longer hold back, not even if
he’d wanted to.

Another stroke, another thrust, and he was

coming. Eyes squeezed shut, balls pulled tight, he
shot, his spunk spilling over Drew’s hand and Drew’s
cock.

Drew made a sound, half groan and half growl

as he came too, mingling their seed as the final
shudder of orgasm ripped through Oliver, leaving
him weak and wasted, still upright thanks only to the
wall at his back and Drew’s arm around his waist.

“Wow, you’re amazing,” Drew said and kissed

him hard on the mouth.

When the kiss broke Oliver laugh shakily and

opened his eyes. “Me? You’re the amazing one.”

Grabbing a handful of Drew’s hair, Oliver pulled

him back in for another lip-lock. And as their tongues
met, he thought again of how familiar this was, and
of that other mouth, that other kiss. Faith’s kiss.

Chapter Seven

“Morning, Oliver.”

Dante’s cheerful greeting had Oliver wincing as

he added sugar to his first mug of coffee.

“Morning,” he managed, his tongue still thick

and his brain fuzzy from lack of sleep. When more
seemed to be required, he added, “Looks like a nice
day.”

Dante nodded. He stood by the kitchen island,

hands tucked into the pockets of his shorts. He
seemed to want something.

“Something wrong?”

“Can I talk to you for a minute?”

Oliver gave his coffee one final stir, then laid the

spoon aside. Lifting the mug, he took the first
glorious sip. Ah, heaven. He lowered the mug to the

counter.

“Sure. What’s up?”

“Could we maybe talk in the office?” Dante cut

his gaze to the two other guests who had just
entered the kitchen and were perusing the breakfast
offerings on the other side of the center island.

“I guess.”

What was that about? Maybe Dante had found

him another room.

Please, let it be that.

Picking up his coffee, Oliver followed the other

man from the kitchen, down the hall, and into the
office.

Dante closed the door after them and gestured

to a chair. “Sit down if you want.”

“That’s okay.” Oliver propped a hip on the edge

of the desk. “Did you find me a room?”

Dante shook his head. “I wish I had. I feel

terrible about the mix-up with your ex.”

“It’s not your fault.” Or not entirely anyway. Oliver

sipped his coffee and waited.

“I feel like it is.” Dante looked down at his

hands. “Which is why it’s kind of hard to say what I

hands. “Which is why it’s kind of hard to say what I
have to say to you.”

Uh-oh.

“What is it?”

“Somebody mentioned to me that you slept on

the couch in the living room last night.”

“I did. Is that a problem? I’m a paying guest after

all.”

“I know. But you paid for a room, and that’s

where you’re supposed to be sleeping.” Dante
raised a hand, forestalling Oliver’s next words. “I
know, Jonathan’s sleeping in your room, and you two
aren’t getting along, but—”

“Is that what he told you? That we aren’t getting

along?”

“Well, sort of. I mean, with what you told me and

what I assumed—”

“We were together since the end of last year.

We roomed together and everything. We planned
this trip as a sort of graduation present to ourselves
and each other. Then we broke up four weeks before
we were supposed to leave. He said he didn’t want
to go, not without me, so I decided to go. Then I get

here, and he shows up.”

Oliver considered adding the part about how he

had job interviews, then decided against it. He didn’t
owe Dante any explanation.

“And now he’s staying in your room.” Dante’s

tone was flat. “Jeez, I’m really sorry about this. If
there was anything I could do—”

You could not harass me about sleeping on

the couch for one damn night.

But he didn’t say it. Instead, he made it sound

like a joke.

“You could turn a blind eye when I crash on the

couch.” Oliver grinned and added a chuckle.

Dante shook his head. “One of the other guests

was complaining. They said it made the place look
like a flophouse. I’m afraid I have to ask you to either
find somewhere else to sleep tonight or—”

“I’m not staying in the room with him. There’s no

way.”

“Well, maybe if you rent a car and drive up the

Keys—”

“Yeah, maybe I’ll do that.” Oliver bit back the rest

of what he wanted to say. It wouldn’t do any good
and certainly wouldn’t find him a place to sleep.
Without another word he turned and left the office.

“Oliver, wait a minute.”

Stopping in the hall outside the office, Oliver let

Dante catch up to him. “Yeah?”

“Let me make a few more calls. Maybe I can

find you something. I know someone with a condo…”

“Okay, that’d be great.” Oliver didn’t bother to

add that even if he found another room or condo, he
probably couldn’t afford the additional expense, not
on top of what he’d already paid for the room he was
in.

Dante’s smile was filled with relief. “Great.

There’s a fresh pot of coffee in the kitchen. Why
don’t you get some?”

“Yeah, I’ll do that.” Oliver thanked him and

wandered into the kitchen, where one of the other
guests was taking something from the toaster. The
fragrance of toasted onion bagel filled the air.
Oliver’s stomach growled. Jeez, he was starving.

He nodded a greeting and made a beeline for

the coffeepot. Pouring himself a second mugful, he
added sugar and a generous splash of cream. Oliver
picked up the mug and took his coffee to the side
porch and sat down to drink it while he tried to figure
out what he was going to do about being technically
homeless for the remainder of the week.

He so didn’t need this when he should be

thinking about his upcoming interviews. And crap,
that was another thing. How the hell was he
supposed to make himself presentable for said
interviews when he might find himself sleeping in
Mallory Square?

Ugh.

Oliver let his head drop against the wicker back

of the patio chair.

Already the air felt thick with the heat of the

approaching day. Even seated in the shade, the
humidity settled around him like a damp blanket.

He drew in a breath redolent with the scent of

flowers.

They

bloomed

everywhere,

colorful

profusions in beds and pots and hanging baskets all
over the property. The air conditioners, a constant in
the Florida heat, hummed in the background.

Oliver closed his eyes and sipped his coffee.

Something brushed against his ankle. His hand

jerked, and coffee sloshed over the rim of his cup.
He looked down. A black-and-white cat sat next to
his left foot. Green eyes gazed intently up at him.

“Hey, where did you come from?” Oliver set

down his coffee and leaned over. He held out his
hand, and the cat sniffed at it. Apparently deciding
he was okay, she head butted him, a direct order to
get busy with the petting.

“Yes, ma’am,” Oliver said and did just that,

scratching under the cat’s chin.

“I see you met Lucy.”

Oliver glanced up. “Oh, is that her name?”

Dante stood in the doorway, a sheet of paper in

one hand. “Yeah, that’s Lucy. She’s our resident cat.
She deigns to let us feed her, and sometimes she
even sleeps in the cat bed on the porch, but she
won’t admit to living here.”

“She seems like a nice cat.” Oliver stroked his

hand down Lucy’s back.

“She is.”

“Hey, Dalton, good morning.” A familiar voice

floated out of the dining room from behind Dante.

Oliver stiffened, feeling every muscle grow

tense.

Dante turned his brilliant smile on the all too

familiar but as yet unseen new arrival. “Oh, hey, good
morning. But it’s Dante, not Dalton.”

Jonathan appeared in the doorway. He held a

mug of coffee. He was barefoot, his only attire a pair
of ragged cutoffs that hung precariously low on his
slim hips.

Jonathan fixed his sleepy gaze on Oliver. “Hey,

babe. I didn’t realize you were out here.”

“Where else would I be, since I don’t have a

room anymore?” Oliver let all his disgust show in his
voice.

“You’ve still got a room.” Jonathan slipped past

Dante and headed for a chair opposite the one
where Oliver sat. He sank into it with a sigh. “And
now you’ve got a roommate.”

“Oliver, listen, I’m going to make those calls. But

if you need anything else in the meantime…” Dante

spoke to Oliver, but his eyes followed Jonathan’s
every move. He was practically drooling, for God’s
sake.

“Thanks, man,” Oliver said as he reached for his

coffee. He was not sitting here with Jonathan. No
fucking way.

“Oh, you got a second, Dal—I mean, Dante?”

Dante paused. “Sure, what can I do for you?”

Jonathan sent him a look that spoke volumes to

anyone who knew him well.

Oliver rolled his eyes.

Not his issue, Oliver reminded himself. He

couldn’t care less what Jonathan did or with whom,
except he’d started out sort of liking Dante. Maybe
he should warn him.

Nah, fuck it

. Dante was a big boy who could

pick his own playmates.

Jonathan picked up his coffee and took a sip as

he let his gaze slide down Dante’s body. He set the
cup down. “Can you tell me where I can rent a car
around here?”

“There’s lots of places over by the airport. But if

you aren’t planning to go far, you’d be better off with
a scooter or a bike. There’s a couple rental places
within a few blocks. I’ll get you the numbers and be
right back.”

“I’ll come to the office with you.” Jonathan rose

and picked up his coffee. He followed his new
playmate into the house. Before he disappeared, he
tossed a look over his shoulder and dropped Oliver
a wink. “Later, babe.”

“Fuck off,” Oliver mumbled. He picked up his

coffee and drained the mug in one swallow.

He set the empty mug down on the table.

A pamphlet lay atop the morning paper, and he

picked it up.

It was a tourist brochure about the Dry Tortugas

National Park. At the top of the list of “Fun Activities!”
was camping.

Oliver scanned the brochure, then flipped his

phone open and dialed the information number at
the bottom of the page. The phone rang.

“Visitors’ center,” a pleasant female voice sang

out. “How can I help you?”

“I’d like some information about camping in the

park.”

* * *

“Wow, this is great!” Oliver stood in the middle

of their campsite and turned in a circle.

He looked like a little kid, Drew thought, trying to

see everything at once.

“It’s pretty rustic.” Drew set down the cooler

beside where Oliver had dropped their sleeping
bags.

“Well, yeah, it’s camping. Were you expecting a

Hilton?” Oliver’s grin flashed.

Something turned over in Drew’s chest. And

what the heck was that about?

When his phone had rung that morning at what

Drew thought of as the crack of dawn, he’d let loose
with a string of rather colorful epithets before groping
around the nightstand, seizing the damn cell, and
preparing to silence it. He’d pushed the button,
cutting the noise off in mid ring, but before dropping
the phone back on the table, he had looked at the
display and seen Oliver’s name. The weird thing

was, he’d felt the same funny flip in his chest just
from seeing the boy’s name on his phone.

Drew answered Oliver’s grin with one of his

own. “You’re not exactly Mr. Outdoorsman either, my
little camping virgin.”

“I resemble that remark.” Oliver paused and

cocked his head. “Listen.”

“To what?”

“How quiet it is.”

“Are you kidding? There must be a million birds

around here.”

“The guidebook says it’s a big nesting area

for…” Oliver pulled the book from his backpack and
paged through. “Well, I can’t find what kind of birds,
but I’ll find it later and tell you.”

Drew laughed. “You do that.”

“So how long has it been since you were here

last?”

“Like twenty years.”

“For real?”

Drew nodded. “Yeah. I was just a kid, and I

remember how cool it was. We didn’t camp, though.
We came out here for the day on a catamaran, went
snorkeling, ate a picnic lunch, and went back.”

“I thought you weren’t from around here.” Oliver

opened the cooler, pulled out a bottle of water,
unscrewed the top, and drank deeply.

“I’m not. We’re from Maryland. But my parents

and I used to come here on vacations. It was how I
knew I wanted to come back here after college.”

Drew watched the muscles work in Oliver’s

throat as he drank. He had an irresistible urge to
press his lips to the hollow where he could see the
pulse beating.

What the hell

? There was no one

around to see, no one but the birds.

Stepping around the cooler, Drew hooked a

finger in Oliver’s belt loop and tugged him close
before lowering his head and pressing his lips just…
there. He tasted the salt of Oliver’s sweat, smelled
the sun and the heat and the other man’s skin. On
impulse and to please himself, he sucked up a mark.

“Ow, shit. What are you doing?” Lowering the

water bottle, Oliver steadied himself with a hand on
Drew’s waist. “Did you just mark me?”

Drew tilted his head and examined the purpling

bruise. “Yep, looks like. Is that a problem for you?”

Oliver shook his head. “Nope, I think it’s kind of

hot actually. Want some water?”

Their gazes locked, and the air around them

sizzled with a strange electricity. Drew felt it dancing
over his skin.

“I think you’re kind of hot.” Taking the water

bottle from Oliver’s hand, Drew set it on the cooler
and pulled the other man close. He shoved his hands
up under Oliver’s shirt to feel his skin. “So now that
we’re here, what do you want to do first?”

It turned out they were too late to snorkel or to

go on any of the organized fishing trips. But Oliver
wanted to see Fort Jefferson, and that they could do.

* * *

“Listen to this,” Oliver said for about the tenth

time since they’d entered the fort. He read.

“A large military fortress, Fort Jefferson was

constructed in the mid-nineteenth century in effort for
the United States to protect the extremely lucrative

shipping channel. Low and flat, these islands and
reefs pose a serious navigation hazard to ships
passing through the seventy-five-mile-wide straits
between the gulf and the ocean.”

He looked up from his book, apparently waiting

for Drew to make some comment.

“Fascinating stuff, huh?” Drew couldn’t quite

suppress his grin, though, and Oliver swatted him
with the guidebook.

“You’re making fun of me.”

“I am not,” Drew protested even as his

shoulders began to shake with laughter.

“Are too.”

“Okay, maybe just a little fun.”

Oliver grinned. “I’m a history geek. What can I

say?”

“No need to say anything.” Drew wrapped his

arm around Oliver’s waist and bumped his hip. “It’s
all good.”

Privately he thought it was damn adorable how

enthusiastic Oliver was about everything, even a
stodgy old fort.

Beside him he could feel the heat of Oliver’s

body through his clothes.

With his free hand, Drew swiped at the sweat

trickling down his face. “You want to get out of here
and go for a swim?”

Oliver glanced at Drew, his brows drawn

together. “You really want to swim?”

“Why not? It’s pretty hot. We could cool off and

—What’s the matter?”

“The guidebook says there are crocodiles

around here.”

“Crocodiles? Get out. There are no crocodiles

around here.”

“I swear, I read it in the guidebook.” Oliver

flipped pages. “Look, here it is. ‘Despite its distance
from the mainland, American crocodiles have been
found inhabiting the remote waters of Dry Tortugas
National Park!’ See? I told you.”

Drew cracked up. “You and that book.”

Drew stopped, yanked Oliver against him,

knocking the guidebook to the ground, and sealed
their lips together.

The kiss turned molten in seconds, and Oliver

wrapped himself around Drew. His mouth was so hot
and so hungry, and Drew quickly lost himself in the
kiss, forgetting everything except the man in his
arms. No telling how long they might have stayed that
way if voices and approaching footsteps hadn’t
intruded on them.

Drew broke the kiss and released Oliver only

moments before a group of little kids rounded the
corner and invaded their now not so private space.
Two middle-aged women were not far behind the
kids, and suddenly the place felt extremely crowded.

Drew grabbed Oliver’s hand. “Let’s go back to

the campsite and get our swimming stuff.”

“But what about the crocodiles?” Oliver stooped

and retrieved his book before letting Drew pull him
along.

“I’ll protect you. I promise.”

They swam and sunned and drank a couple of

the beers they’d packed in the cooler. As they lay on
their towels in the lazy haze of approaching evening,
Oliver reached for Drew’s hand and took it.

“You know, I thought those women at the fort

were going to give us a hard time.”

“About what?” Drew twined their fingers

together.

“Kissing in front of their kids. But they didn’t.”

“This is the Keys,” Drew said. “People are used

to seeing gay couples. Hell, those women might
have been a couple for all you know.”

“Yeah, maybe.” Oliver sighed. “God, I could so

live here.”

Drew felt the funny flutter in his chest again.

Excitement? Dread? No, not dread. Not at all.

Of course if he did live here, a voice in Drew’s

head whispered,

You’d have to tell him about you

know who.

But Oliver didn’t live in Key West, and there was

no need to tell him anything. So Drew kept it light.

“You mean you’d want to live right here in the

park?”

“No, not right here.” Oliver laughed. “I mean

here, in the Keys, in Key West. I’d love to be able to
walk hand in hand with my boyfriend without

wondering and worrying what people are thinking,
knowing they’re probably not even looking. Or if they
are, they’re thinking ‘look at that nice young couple.
Don’t they look happy?’”

“You’re a romantic, you know it?”

“I guess. Isn’t that why you live here?”

“I live here because it’s sunny every day.” Drew

sat up. He did not want to continue this conversation.
Too many possible mines to step on. “You ready to
go back to camp? I’m starving.”

They returned to their campsite, Oliver saying

no more about living in Key West, to Drew’s relief.
They ate the sandwiches they’d brought and drank
the remaining beers.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” Oliver sighed as he lay

back on his sleeping bag and gazed up at the sky
slowly deepening into darkness.

“It is,” Drew agreed. He turned on his side,

leaned up on one elbow, and cupped Oliver’s jaw.
“So are you.”

The light from their lantern was enough to let him

see Oliver’s smile and the way his lashes fluttered

down as if the compliment embarrassed him even
as it pleased him.

“I bet you say that to all the boys,” Oliver said.

“No, I don’t.” Drew lowered his mouth to Oliver’s,

and they shared a beer-flavored kiss.

“Mmm, Budweiser.”

“You complaining?” Drew traced Oliver’s lips

with the tip of his tongue.

“Nope, it’s my favorite brand.” Oliver’s fingers

tangled in Drew’s hair and pulled him back in for
another kiss.

Drew let himself sink. Maybe he really should tell

him everything. Maybe he’d be fine with it.

Of course he’d known when he agreed to come

here with Oliver, it meant taking their encounters to
the next level of intimacy.

Next level of intimacy? Sheesh. He sounded

like a damn girl

. It meant fucking. He knew it, and no

doubt Oliver knew it too.

Oliver, who was even now wrapping himself

around Drew like a human blanket.

“You’re a great kisser,” Oliver murmured against

“You’re a great kisser,” Oliver murmured against

Drew’s lips. “Shit, I could kiss you all night.”

Drew grinned up at Oliver. He could see the

rising moon over the other man’s shoulder, smell the
mingled scents of skin and sunscreen and sweat.
And he could feel Oliver’s hard-on nestling alongside
his own.

“Just kiss me? You sure about that? Because I

sort of thought we'd try something else.”

Oliver’s hesitation was just long enough to

break the mood.

“I guess. Sure.”

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

Oliver started to untangle himself from Drew, but

Drew caught and held him.

“Tell me.”

“It’s nothing. Let me get naked.”

“No, not until you tell me what’s the matter. Don’t

you want—I mean, I thought that’s why we came
here, because you wanted to…”

Drew’s words trailed off. Clearly, he was waiting

for Oliver to fill in the blank.

Oliver opened his mouth, but no words came

out. How could he admit to this sexy man, or to
anybody else for that matter, at nearly twenty-two
years old, he had never had actual sex? Handjob,
sure. Blowjobs, most definitely. Mutual jerk-off
sessions—hell, they were among his favorite
activities with a sexy partner. But never a cock up his
ass, and never had he fucked anyone else either.

Jonathan’s words came back to him.

There’s something wrong with you, man.

Maybe he was right. Maybe there really was

something wrong with him.

“Oliver?” Drew touched his shoulder. “Baby, did

I say something?”

“No.” Oliver rolled over onto his stomach,

breaking the contact. If he was going to say it, right
out loud, in front of God and everybody, he couldn’t
look at Drew.

Oliver took a breath. “I’ve never actually had sex

before.”

There. He’d said it, and the sky had not fallen.

Drew was silent for a long moment; then he

huffed out a laugh. “That’s it? That’s your big
revelation? Wow, I thought it was going to be
something—You know, like…bad.”

Oliver felt Drew lean over him, felt those

luscious lips pressed to the back of his neck. “Baby,
why would you not want to tell me that?”

“Because it makes me seem like a big geek,

and I wanted you to like me.”

“I do like you.” Drew brushed a lock of hair

aside and nuzzled Oliver’s ear. “C’mon, turn over
and talk to me.”

Reluctant to believe Drew wasn’t going to make

fun of him the way Jonathan had, Oliver turned and
found himself gazing up into dark eyes filled with
understanding and more than a little heat.

“You don’t think it’s funny? I’ll be twenty-two next

month, and I’m still a virgin.”

Drew’s lips quirked. “I wouldn’t say virgin, after

the stuff you and I have done. And no, I don’t think it’s
funny or freakish you don’t fuck every guy who

crosses your path. I think it’s…kinda nice, like you
want it to mean something.”

“God, now I do feel like a freak.”

“Why?”

Oliver shrugged.

“Hey, we don’t have to.” Drew touched Oliver’s

cheek. “I still like you.”

Oliver laughed, though it had no humor in it. “You

probably don’t even want to now.”

“Don’t put words in my mouth, man. I never said

that.” Drew leaned forward and rubbed his smooth
cheek against Oliver’s stubbly one. “Or you could
fuck me if you want.”

“For real?”

“Yeah, for real. If it’s what you want.”

“It’s what I want.” Oliver framed Drew’s face

between his hands and kissed him.

Oh, that mouth.

His stomach still fluttered with nerves, the ham

and cheese on Cuban bread sitting like a rock in his
gut. Yet he knew with a certainty he’d never felt

before, and especially never with Jonathan, he
wanted this, wanted his first time to be with Drew.
Not that he was in love. How could he be after
knowing him for three days? But he was damned
attracted, and if he actually ended up living here,
maybe they would have something more than this
one night. And despite the short acquaintance, he
felt confident this man would be good to him.

“This is what I want,” Oliver said again when the

kiss broke.

“Okay.” Drew rubbed his lips over Oliver’s and

slid his hands under his T-shirt, pushing it up so the
warm, moist air caressed the skin of his bare belly.
“Let’s get these clothes off, hmm? I want to see you.”

Slowly, Drew unbuttoned Oliver’s shorts and

drew down the zip. He spread the material and
nuzzled the exposed skin leaving a trail of licks and
kisses from navel to the deep vee of the zipper.

Oliver sucked in his breath. The muscles of his

abdomen trembled, and his dick pushed against the
fabric of his shorts.

“Mmm, love your cock, baby.” Shoving his hand

between fabric and flesh, Drew gripped Oliver’s

prick and withdrew it. He mouthed the length, then
lightly sucked at the tip, tonguing the slit until Oliver
tugged at his hair.

“If you don’t quit that, I’m going to come

before…you know.”

Drew looked up and grinned. “You’re allowed

more than one orgasm, Ollie, baby. In fact, it might
help relax you before…you know.”

Oliver laughed at the mirroring of his phrasing.

“You think?”

“I can almost guarantee it. Now, lie back like a

good boy and let me bring you off.”

Unable to resist the teasing tone or the sexy,

knowing smile, Oliver lay back and gazed up at the
stars.

A soft breeze ruffled his hair and whispered

through the trees surrounding their campsite. It was
the perfect place to make love for the first time.

He hardly remembered to be embarrassed

when Drew removed his shorts and left him lying
naked on the sleeping bag. He forgot completely any
shyness when Drew’s lean, nearly hairless body slid

over him.

God, it felt amazing, all that smooth golden skin

and the long, lean lines of hips and thighs.

Oliver wrapped one leg around Drew’s waist,

wanting, needing to pull him even closer. Their cocks
slid together, and both men gasped.

“You feel so good,” Drew whispered. “Can’t wait

to get your cock up my ass.”

And suddenly Oliver couldn’t wait either.

“C’mon, let’s—”

“Shhh.” Drew kissed the corner of his mouth.

“There’s no rush. We’ve got all night. I promised you
a two-fer, and I always keep my promises.”

Drew slid down Oliver’s body, his movements

as smooth and sensuous as a snake, and swallowed
Oliver’s cock to the root.

“Holy shit, Drew!” Oliver bucked, ramming his

dick deeper into the other man’s throat. And before
he could stop himself, he was coming. “Sorry, jeez.
Sorry.”

But when he tried to pull out, Drew followed him

down, sucking until Oliver was drained dry. Drew's

dark eyes, filled with amusement, rolled up and met
Oliver's as he pulled back slowly. He kissed the tip of
Oliver’s cock, then licked his lips.

“Mmm, you taste good. Sweet.”

“I eat a lot of fruit.” God, he sounded stupid.

God, he felt stupid. “I didn’t mean to come like that. I
just—”

“S’okay, baby.”

“But I came so fast, like I was twelve or

something.”

“I am goooood. And I’m not done with you yet.”

Drew laughed, then nuzzled Oliver’s balls. “Looks
like you aren’t done with me either.”

Oliver gasped as Drew’s soft lips slid along his

still-rigid shaft. Yeah, the orgasm had relieved some
of the pressure, but he was still so horny for this man.

Drew licked and kissed and nuzzled Oliver cock

for several minutes before he raised his head. “Bend
your knees and show me your sweet little hole.”

Without stopping to think, Oliver bent his knees

and pulled his legs apart. The position felt so wicked
and so decadent, so gloriously uninhibited, and

totally unlike himself.

Drew growled. “God, you’re so sexy.”

Something in Drew’s eyes, in the way he was

looking at him, made Oliver’s skin tingle. He felt
desired and sexy. It was incredible.

“I want to fuck you, Drew.” Oliver hardly

recognized his own voice as he made the demand. It
was raspy and low and didn’t sound like him at all.

“Not yet, baby.”

Reaching between Oliver’s legs, Drew ran the

tip of one finger down the length of his dick, over his
balls, and down, down, down to his hole, where he
circled and teased until Oliver’s cock stiffened and
grew even harder until it was nearly painful.

Drew palmed his aching prick through his

shorts. He stroked and squeezed as he leaned down
and inhaled deeply, taking in the scent of his soon-
to-be lover. But it wasn’t enough. He needed to
taste.

He lowered his head between Oliver’s legs and

licked where his finger had been only a moment

before, the place where the flavor was dark and
bitter.

Oliver gasped. “Oh, God. Oh, damn.”

Drew smiled and stiffened his tongue. As if it

were a tiny cock, he pushed it into Oliver’s hole. He
kept it up until Oliver’s entrance was drenched with
his saliva, until he could slide two fingers inside with
hardly any resistance.

He could have kept going all night, his blood

abuzz with arousal, the taste and sound and feel of
the man under him nearly enough to send him over
the edge before they even got to the main event.

He continued with fingers and tongue until Oliver

was moaning and writhing and Drew himself felt like
he was about to explode. Withdrawing his fingers, he
sat back on his heels. In the light from the lantern,
Oliver’s skin was flushed and sheened with sweat.
His beautiful cock throbbed visibly. It strained
against his belly and glistened at the tip.

God, he couldn’t wait, not one more minute.

“You ready?” Drew asked as he reached for his

backpack.

Oliver’s eyes opened. They were dark and

occluded with desire. He licked his lips and nodded.

“You got supplies?”

“I got us covered.” Tearing open the condom,

Drew smoothed the latex down Oliver’s shaft, then
slicked it up with additional lube. He squeezed more
into his hand and, getting to his knees, smeared a
generous amount in and around his own opening
before straddling his partner’s hips and positioning
himself.

“Ready, baby?” Drew leaned forward and

brushed his lips over Oliver’s.

“Ready.” Oliver squeezed his eyes shut.

“Open your eyes. I want to see you.”

Oliver opened his eyes.

Drew felt the fat head of Oliver’s prick against

his entrance. His dick wept, and his ass clenched in
anticipation. Reaching back, he grasped Oliver’s
shift and slowly impaled himself.

“Oh, God. Oh, shit.” Oliver groaned. His fingers

flexed on Drew’s hips as his dick slowly penetrated
Drew’s hole.

As his ass settled against Oliver’s groin, Drew

let out his breath. He felt stretched and impossibly
full. It burned and stung but not too badly.

“Are you okay?” Oliver asked. His tone sounded

both concerned and breathless at once. It was
adorable and made Drew smile.

“I’m good. But give me a minute. It stings a

little.”

“Want to stop?”

“No fucking way.”

Oliver laughed. “Good, because you feel

amazing.”

The breeze ruffled Drew’s hair as he knelt there

waiting for his body to relax.

Ah, there.

Slowly he raised up, then just as slowly slid back

down.

“Oh, God, Drew.”

“I know,” Drew said and did it again. Sweat

stung his eyes. He blinked it away.

Bracing his hands on either side of Oliver’s

head, he eased forward and brought their mouths
together.

“You’re so beautiful,” Oliver murmured when the

kiss broke. “I could stay just like this.”

“Me too,” Drew said and meant it. He reached

between them and wrapped his fingers around his
cock. He stroked. “Can’t wait to come for you.
Gonna come all over you.”

Drew paused, stunned at his own words. That

was something Faith said, not him. In fact, this was
something Faith would do, riding a cock like this. He
rarely bottomed, usually preferring to do the fucking
rather than get fucked.

“Yeah,” Oliver said on a breathless laugh.

“Come for me.”

Drew shook off his own musings. Too much

thinking.

He eased back, taking Oliver’s dick to the root.

It felt amazing. The head nudged his gland. Electric
tingles shot up his spine and down into his balls. He
rocked forward, repeating the move.

“Yeah,” Oliver moaned. “Oh yeah.”

Drew began to rock, forward and back, forward

and back. Oliver’s dick rubbed over his sweet spot,
and he pumped his cock in time with the thrusts.

In the near darkness, he could make out Oliver’s

face. He had such a beautiful, expressive face. His
eyes were open and dark with need. His lips were
wet and kiss-swollen.

“Oh, God,” Oliver groaned. “I’m going to come.

Drew—”

“Yeah, baby, come for me. Come in me.”

Oliver’s dick swelled in Drew’s ass. He felt it

pulse and throb as his own need balled tight in his
belly. He looked down into Oliver’s eyes, so blue and
so full of need, so focused on him. They seemed to
see right inside him and down to his soul. It was then
Drew knew he would tell this man everything, and
damn the consequences.

Drew squeezed his eyes shut and let his body

have its way. He had no choice. His balls pulled up
as sensation raced through him. And then he was
coming. The orgasm crashed over him like a wave,
lifting him up and flinging him down, making him
shake and sweat and swear.

In his hand, his dick jerked; hot cum erupted

from the tip and shot through his fingers. It splashed
over Oliver’s chest and belly and filled Drew’s
nostrils with the fresh, ferny sent of sex.

All the strength ran out of the arm Drew had

used to hold himself up, and he collapsed on Oliver’s
chest. They lay together, bodies slick with sweat and
cum, their hearts racing, breath coming in shallow
pants.

Oliver’s arms slid around him, and he held Drew

tight. His lips nuzzled under Drew’s ear. “That was
incredible. Thank you.”

Drew’s breathing stilled. He raised his head

and looked down at the man under him. “Did you just
thank me?”

“Yeah?”

“For what?”

“I don’t know.” Oliver laughed nervously. “I told

you I’m a freak. Forget it. Forget I said anything.”

But when Oliver let Drew go and tried to squirm

out from under him, Drew wrapped his arms and
legs around him and held on. “You’re not a freak.

You’re hot as fuck, and I—”

“You what?”

Now it was Drew’s turn to squirm. He’d very

nearly said I think I’m crazy about you. Which was
ridiculous since they hardly knew each other. But
still…

“You what?” Oliver asked again.

“I like you,” Drew finished lamely. “And I’m really

glad you asked me to come here with you.”

It wasn’t the smoothest save ever, but it would

do for now.

Chapter Eight

“You don’t have to walk me all the way back to

the house,” Oliver said. “We should go by your place,
or I can bring the camping stuff over later on.”

They were walking from the ferry, and it was the

third time Oliver had said so. Maybe he didn’t want
him to walk him back to the guesthouse for some
reason. And maybe Drew was being paranoid. All
the thinking about honesty and coming clean about
Faith and the rest was making him jumpy.

“I don’t mind.”

“You never told me exactly where you live. Is it

near here?”

Okay, pal.

Here was the first chance to do some of that

coming clean with Oliver.

“I live in a condo complex right behind We Be.”

“We Be? Oh, the bike-rental place, right? We

Be Bikin’.” Oliver laughed. “That’s a great name, by
the way.”

They turned the corner on William Street, and

the guesthouse came into view.

“I was the one who thought of it.” Drew hefted

the backpack he carried and adjusted the straps on
his shoulders. “When my parents bought the place, it
was called something like William Street Bike
rentals, something really boring like that. So I
suggested We Be Bikin’, and they loved it.”

Oliver gestured at the backpack. “I can take

that, if it’s getting too heavy. And you really don’t
have to—”

Drew stopped. “Is there some reason you don’t

want me to walk you back to the guesthouse, Ollie?”

“No, of course not.” Oliver stopped too. “I just

thought—Whatever. It doesn’t matter.”

He sighed as if Drew were being totally

ridiculous, and maybe he was.

Oliver resumed walking, and Drew fell into step

beside him. They didn’t speak again until they
reached the guesthouse front porch.

Music floated through the always open door,

and somewhere inside a telephone rang. Behind
them on William Street, a car drove by, stereo
blaring.

Oliver grunted as he put down the cooler and let

his own backpack slide off his shoulders. “Okay,
well, I guess I’ll see you later at Mango Mango. What
time should I meet you there?”

“I’ll call you when I get off work.”

“And you’re really going to introduce me to

Faith?”

Drew’s stomach did a slow flip, but he dredged

up a smile. “Sure. I think you two will really hit it off.”

“I can’t wait to meet her. I never met a real live

drag queen before.”

“Yeah, well…” Drew reached for Oliver, but as

he leaned in for a kiss, Oliver stiffened. “What’s the
matter?”

“Hey, babe, where have you been?”

Babe?

Drew stepped back. Over Oliver’s shoulder he

saw

the

man,

dark-haired

and

movie-star

handsome, standing in the doorway of the
guesthouse openly watching them. His body was
long and lean and displayed to its best advantage in
cutoffs that seemed to be more holes than denim.
His crystalline blue gaze flicked from Oliver to Drew
and back.

“Hey.” He sent Drew a dazzling smile. “I’m

Jonathan.”

“I’m Drew.” The response came automatically.

But who the hell was this guy? And why was he
calling Oliver babe?

But the question didn’t really need to be asked.

The look on Oliver’s face told Drew all he needed to
know about who this guy was to Drew’s new love, the
man he had, only moments before, been ready to
reveal his deepest secrets to.

Drew and Jonathan stared at each other. After

what might have been ten seconds or ten minutes,
Jonathan turned to Oliver.

“The maid’s up in our room, so you probably

don’t want to go up there.”

Drew sighed.

Okay, so this was the roommate. But still.

“You must be Oliver’s roommate,” Drew said.

“Is that what he told you?” Jonathan laughed.

“Yeah, we’re roommates, all right.”

Well, there it was, the truth staring Drew in the

face. This guy was obviously more than a roommate.
Probably the boyfriend. Oliver’s words came back to
him.

“

I used to have a boyfriend, but we broke up

.”

Yeah, right. Who rooms with his ex-boyfriend

on spring break anyway? Unless there’s still
something there.

Drew picked up his backpack and slung it over

one shoulder. Doing his best to ignore the hurt and
betrayal welling up inside him, he reached for the
cooler. “I have to go, Oliver.”

“Drew, wait. I can explain.”

“No time.” He had to get out of there, right

fucking now. “I have to get to work.”

Drew shoved the cooler under his arm, grabbed

his sleeping bag, and made his escape. Dimly he
heard Oliver repeating his name, then footsteps as
he followed Drew down the steps to the sidewalk.

Drew quickened his pace. Please, don’t. Not

now. He couldn’t deal with this now. Maybe not ever.

“I’ll call you later,” Oliver called after him.

Drew said nothing. But he walked even faster

and did not look back.

“Drew!”

God, Drew wouldn’t even look back. And he

was practically running away from him.

Shit.

Oliver stopped. He couldn’t exactly chase the

man down the street, not when he so obviously did
not intend to listen to whatever explanation Ollie had
to offer.

And what explanation was that anyway? Even if

he told the complete unvarnished truth, what was the
likelihood Drew would believe him? If their positions
were reversed, would he even believe him?

With a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach,

Oliver returned to the porch. Jonathan was gone.
Good thing too, the asshole.

Bending down, Oliver gathered up his backpack

and the sleeping bag Drew had loaned him, and
which he was going to have to return, and went into
the house and directly up the stairs. With any luck the
housekeeper would be finish by now, and he could
deadbolt Jonathan out of the room. Not that it would
do much good since he had a key and would only let
himself in when he was good and ready. The
asshole.

So he’s the asshole, huh

? Oliver’s conscience

poked him.

And what about you, pal? You were the

one who didn’t tell Drew the truth from the
beginning, a truth he now refuses to hear. Maybe if
you had, probably if you had, none of this would
have happen, because Jonathan would not have
had the power to fuck things up for you so royally.
But you’re the one who gave him the hammer. So
who exactly is at fault here?

Oliver slammed a mental door on that voice with

its all too valid questions and stomped up the final

flight of stairs to his room. He shifted the sleeping
bag to his other arm, fished out his key, and
unlocked the door.

Not until he was inside the room and had closed

the door did he realize he wasn’t alone. Jonathan sat
on the edge of the unmade bed, a small smile
playing around his lips.

“You said the maid was in here.”

It was a stupid thing to say, especially

considering right at that moment Oliver, would have
liked nothing more than to toss his ex’s ass over the
balcony railing.

His comment was met with a shrug. “Yeah, well,

I lied.”

“Why?” But then why not? Jonathan was a liar,

and liars lied.

“Seemed like the thing to do at the time.”

Jonathan fell back on the bed and stretched his arms
over his head. “And I wanted your little fuck boy to
know what the situation is between you and me,
because I doubt you told him. Did you, Ollie?”

“There is no situation here, Jon. We broke up.

The only reason you’re here at all is because I forgot
to take your name off the reservation.” Oliver turned
and yanked open the door. “Now, get the fuck out.”

Jonathan laughed. “This is my room too, babe.

You can’t throw me out of my room. Or is the offer
still open to buy me out?”

If only.

Since they’d had that discussion, Oliver had

been hit with some major expenses—new front tires
for his car, a new alternator, and the labor to have it
installed as well as a handful of fees that had to be
paid before he could graduate next month.

“I told you I don’t have the cash now to buy you

out.”

“Yeah, you did. I forgot.” Jonathan yawned and

stretched again. “So I guess this is still my room.”

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Oliver

demanded. “Why did you say that shit to Drew?”

The door across the hall opened, and a blond

bedhead poked through the crack. “Hey, can you
keep it down or shut the fucking door? People are
trying to sleep around here.”

The head disappeared back inside the room,

and the door banged shut.

“Fuck you,” Oliver snapped but closed the door.

“I don’t know what you’re so bent about, babe.”

Jonathan sat up. “Just because your spring fling
found out you have a boyfriend—”

“I don’t have a boyfriend. You are not my

boyfriend. I told you—”

“C’mon, Ollie, we’re going to get back together.

You know it. We always get back together. Why do
you think I’m here? I didn’t come all this way just to
fuck with you, you know.”

“We are not getting back together, and you’re

out of your fucking mind if you think so.” Oliver
stomped to the closet and flung the bifold doors
back with enough force to make them bounce.
Hangers screeched along the bar. Oliver yanked one
of Jonathan’s shirts, light blue with tiny purple palm
trees, from the hanger. He jerked open the door to
their room and flung the shirt into the hallway.

“What the hell are you doing?” Jonathan rolled

off the bed to his feet. “That’s my shirt.”

“And these are your pants.” Oliver tossed a pair

of jeans after the shirt. “And your shorts.”

“You lost your freakin’ mind!” Jonathan strode to

the closet, but Oliver was already over at the
dresser. He yanked open the top drawer and
scooped up a pile of his ex-boyfriend’s briefs and T-
shirts.

“And this is your underwear.” He marched to the

door and threw the lot into the hallway. It hit Jon in the
head where he was crouched and attempting to
gather up his scattered belongings.

“Hey! What the fuck?”

“You’re leaving,” Oliver said. “I’m just helping

you move your shit out of my room.”

Sneakers, flip-flops, and deck shoes flew out

the door.

Jonathan ducked to avoid being smacked in the

side of the head by one of his own docksiders.
“You’re a freakin’ nut job!”

“Yeah, I am. So you should probably stay away

from me for your own safety.” Oliver threw Jon’s
toothbrush, comb, and electric razor into the hallway.

“And we are never, never getting back together.”

He slammed the door and leaned back against

it. His heart was pounding, and he was giddy with
dread over what he’d done.

“I fucking hate you, Oliver,” Jonathan yelled from

the hallway.

“The feeling’s mutual,” Oliver called back

through the door. Throwing the deadbolt, for all the
good it would do, he walked to the bed and sat
down.

He couldn’t believe he’d just thrown Jonathan

and all his shit out of their room. He’d never done
anything even remotely like that before. It was the
kind of thing he’d seen in movies but never dreamed
of doing for real, not even when they had originally
broken up and he’d taken to sleeping on friends’
couches rather than go home. It had felt good,
though, and Jonathan had definitely deserved it even
if he would be out there only as long as it took to
have somebody from the desk let him back in.

Oliver fell back on the bed and closed his eyes.

Now if only he could fix things with Drew.

Chapter Nine

“Hey, gorgeous, how about a free pass to the

show tonight?”

In five-inch gold stilettos, Drew teetered over to

a pair of college boys and waved two tickets at
them.

He was working the sidewalk in front of Mango

Mango, flirting with the passersby, and handing out
free tickets to that night’s eleven o’clock show.

And oh yeah, still beating himself up for his

stupidity where Oliver was concerned. Why the hell
did he always fall for the ones who already had
boyfriends, and not only already had boyfriends but
lied about it?

Sam would say, and had said on many

occasions, he gave his heart too easily. Drew, on the

other hand, figured it was because he was a moron
with shitty taste in men. Either way the end result was
the same.

The college boys had stopped, and the shorter

of the two accepted the tickets with a smile and a
wink. “Are you in the show?”

Faith nodded and fluttered her heavily

mascaraed eyelashes “You bet I am, sweetness.”

“If we come to the show, will we get to see

what’s under your skirt?” the taller one asked with an
almost comical leer.

“Guess you’ll have to come to the show to find

out, won’t you?” Faith purred.

The boys laughed and promised, yes, they

would be there right in the front row.

“See you then, sweeties.” Faith blew them a

kiss then sent them off with a little finger wave.

“Oh good, you’re here.”

Turning, Drew found Randy watching from the

open entrance of the club. He stepped into the late-
afternoon sunshine and joined Drew on the sidewalk.
His gaze slid down Drew’s body, or rather Faith’s

body, encased in shimmering red satin with
plunging, rhinestone-encrusted décolletage. He
licked his lips. “Gregory’s in the office. He wants to
see you.”

“Why?”

And he’d thought this day couldn’t get any

worse.

“No clue,” Randy said with a shrug. “He just told

me to have you come to the office as soon as you
got in.”

Shit.

“I’m working out here for another hour.”

“Sam just got here. I’ll send her out.” Randy held

out his hand. “Give me your passes and get your
gorgeous ass in there. You know how he is when
he’s kept waiting.”

With no choice, Drew handed over his stack of

free passes. “Tell Sam I’ll be out as soon as we’re
done.”

“Will do.” Randy smiled, but it didn’t reach his

eyes. “I’m sure it’s nothing bad, sweetie.”

“Sure,” Drew agreed and ducked inside the

club.

Hurrying past the bar, Drew tried not to make

eye contact with any of his friends. He also did his
best not to speculate on why the club’s owner would
be summoning him for a private tête-à-tête. What if
Gregory had heard about his argument with Randy
and his threat to quit the show? What if he was going
to be fired, kicked out on his ass for acting like a
diva?

Don’t think about it

. Even if it was, nothing he

could do about it now. He couldn’t unsay what he’d
said about Danny and the rest.

Too soon Drew reached the closed office door.

He took a deep breath and knocked.

“Come in.”

Drew took another breath, opened the door,

and got ready to face the wrath of Gregory.

The club owner sat behind the desk. He was

kicked back in the cheap leatherette armchair and
somehow, by his very presence, managed to lend a
veneer of class to the otherwise shabby office. He
wore a light linen suit, and his shirt was open at the

throat to reveal a hint of chest. His dark hair was
more generously sprinkled with silver than the last
time Drew had seen him. But it was still perfect with
not a strand out of place.

“Drew, or should I say Faith? It’s nice to see

you.” Gregory rose and came around the desk. He
smiled and held out his hand. “Come in and sit.”

Drew came in and took the chair Gregory

indicated. If the man was going to rip him a new one,
Drew wished he would just get on with it already. But
Gregory Manning was too classy for that.

“Would you like something? Coffee? Water?

Something else?”

“No, thanks,” Drew said. He sounded odd even

to his own ears. Probably because he’d been in
character as Faith, and dressed as he was in satin
and stilettos, it was hard to make the transition back
to being Drew.

“That’s some dress,” Gregory said, resuming

his seat. “If I didn’t know better, I’d swear you were
flesh-and-blood female.”

Drew couldn’t help but smile as pleasure at the

compliment slid through him. “Thanks, Gregory.”

“I’m looking forward to the show tonight. Randy

tells me you’ve added some new routines since the
last time I was here.”

Drew nodded. “There’s a Gypsy number I’m

pretty proud of. The crowd seems to really like it. My
tips are definitely up.”

Please, can we just get on with it?

“I’m sure.” Gregory leaned across the desk and

steepled his fingers. “You’re quite the star around
here. I hope you know how much I value you.”

Some of the tension in Drew’s gut eased. This

did not sound like the prequel to being fired or
having his ass chewed out. So if not that, then what?

He nodded again. He felt like a bobblehead

doll.

Gregory’s chair squeaked as he leaned back.

He folded his impeccably manicured hands and
regarded Drew. His smile melted away, and he grew
serious.

Uh-oh. Here we go.

Drew sat forward. Realizing he was wringing his

hands in his lap, he forced them to be still, but he
could do nothing about the pounding of his pulse. He
swallowed hard and waited.

“So, Drew. Or should I say Faith?”

“Drew is fine.”

Gregory chuckled. “That’s fine, then. So, Drew, I

heard you were unhappy about Danny being hired to
replace Lyle.”

Shit. What was he supposed to say to that?

The truth was probably best.

“Well, yeah, I was disappointed but—”

“And I can understand why. You’re quite the

talented singer, and Randy tells me what you really
want is to sing and not just lip-synch. Is that true?”

“Randy told you that?” Drew couldn’t conceal his

surprise.

“He did. And I heard you sing a month or so ago

when I was here for karaoke night. You have a
marvelous voice.”

“Thank you.”

“So, given that singing is what you really want, I

have a proposal for you.”

have a proposal for you.”

“What kind of proposal?”

“I’m opening another club. It’s a project I’ve had

in the works for some time, and I need a headliner,
someone with a lot of talent and style, someone I can
depend on and who will give the show the right
amount of glamour and class.” He smiled. “And I’d
like that person to be you.”

“Me?”

Gregory nodded. “I’d like you to be my headline

act. The shows will be all female impersonators, a
cabaret with real singing, and not the lip-synching
like you’re doing now. Would you be interested in
something like that?”

“Are you kidding?”

“Not kidding. In fact I’m dead serious. Do you

think you’d be interested?”

“Hell, yeah.” Drew felt the smile break across

his face. He must look like a total Cheshire cat, but
he didn’t care. He was going to get to sing, for real,
the single thing he’d always wanted.

“Great. That’s really great.” Gregory’s smile

grew.

“When do I start?”

“Hold on a minute.” Gregory laughed and held

up a hand. “There’s one more thing. It may color your
decision.”

“I seriously doubt it.”

“Still, before you give me your final answer, you

should know the new club is going to be in Las
Vegas.”

Las Vegas.

Drew was speechless.

Gregory hardly seemed to notice. He went on

talking, telling Drew about the new club, which would
be called Sequins, and all his plans for the grand
opening scheduled for the end of the month, the
other performers he’d hired, the glamorous look of
the place. At last he paused and took a breath.

“So, what do you say, Drew? Do we have a

deal?”

“I’d have to move,” Drew said stupidly.

Gregory laughed. “Yes, that would be a

requirement, as the commute would be rather
unmanageable.”

“I’d have to find a place out there and—”

“Of course, of course.” Gregory waved this

concern away like it was nothing. “But since I need
you out there for the opening, you can stay at my
condo while you look for a place. Rent free, of
course.”

Alarm bells sounded in Drew’s head. He knew,

as did nearly everyone connected with the club,
about Gregory’s taste for pretty young men. He knew
too with his slender build and finely drawn features,
he would fit the bill nicely. Add to that his dad’s
favorite saying, “you get nothing for nothing,” and
Drew thought he knew what he was being offered.
Still, it was a chance to do what he’d always
dreamed of doing and in a town that was big on glitz
and glamour.

He thought of Oliver and their fledgling

relationship. Oliver, who might be moving here to
Key West in a few short months. Oliver with his
beautiful eyes and sweet smile and secret boyfriend.

“Can I think about it?” Drew asked.

“Of course. I expect you’ll need to tie up some

loose ends before you go. Assuming you will be
going.” Gregory’s expression said he had no doubt
Drew would be accepting his offer.

Drew thanked him and left the office with his

stomach in knots and returned to the sidewalk
outside the club.

Sam was in full flirt mode. Drew watched her

absently, his head still spinning with all the
possibilities of what Gregory was offering him.

“You can go back inside,” he told Sam once she

had bid adieu to the group of young men she’d been
flirting with. “I’ve got it from here.”

She studied him with eyebrows raised. “What

did Gregory say to you?”

In a low voice, and as quickly as he could, Drew

filled her in on the high points of Gregory’s offer. He
carefully glossed over the parts that caused him the
most worry.

Typically she zeroed in anyway.

“Vegas, huh? Very glamorous.”

“I know, right?” Drew grinned, but somehow it

felt wrong, like it didn’t quite fit his face.

“Where will you live?”

“I’ll have to get an apartment, I guess.”

“And in the meantime? He wants you there by

the end of the month, right? So where will you stay
until you get a place?”

Drew searched the street for a likely group of

spring breakers to provide a distraction. At the
moment there was no one who would reach them in
time.

Damn.

“Gregory offered to let me stay at his condo.”

Drew sort of mumbled the admission and didn’t

look at his friend. Still, he felt her surprise and would
have even if she hadn’t let out a low whistle.

“Mmm, he did, did he?”

“It’s not like that,” Drew snapped, a bit too

defensively.

“Not like what, hon?”

“Not like what you’re thinking.”

Sam shrugged and approached a group of

tourists who looked too old to be spring breakers.

Drew was left alone. His cheeks burned, and he

knew he was blushing. He watched Sam hand out a
half dozen passes, kiss cheeks, then send her group
on their way.

She returned to where Drew stood by the open

entrance. “I think I shocked them. But I think they’ll
come to the show, don’t you?”

“I think the ones you kissed will. Not so sure

about the others.”

“We’ll see.” She grinned, then grew serious

again. “What about your new boyfriend?”

“What do you mean?”

“The hunky blond. I thought you were all into him.

You just going to say ‘sorry, babe, got to go to
Vegas, and shack up with my boss’?”

“Oh, that’s totally over. I told you, he was just a

spring breaker.” Drew said, completely ignoring the
reference to shacking up with Gregory.

“Already? And with the week not half over?

Didn’t you two go camping? Overnight? In the same
sleeping bag and all?”

“We had two sleeping bags.” Though they had

used only one.

“Well, there’s your problem. I take it things did

not go well?”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“C’mon now, hon. I can see something’s the

matter. It’s all over your pretty face.”

Drew rolled his eyes and sighed. But then he

figured, what the hell?

“Oliver’s got a boyfriend he neglected to

mention. I met him when we got back this morning.
Sort of ran into him when I walked him back to the
guesthouse.”

“A boyfriend right here in Key West?”

Drew nodded. “Yep. They came on spring break

together. I guess he figured I wouldn’t find out.”

“Awww, sweetie, I’m sorry. That sucks.”

Now it was Drew’s turn to shrug. “

Que sera

sera

, right?”

“I guess.” Sam brightened. “Sort of clears the

decks for your move to Vegas, though, so that’s a
good thing.”

“Yeah, it’s perfect.”

Now if only he could convince himself.

Chapter Ten

Okay, so this was maybe the best day of his life

and maybe the worst.

Oliver snapped his cell phone closed and tried

to be happy at the news that he’d gotten the job he’d
interviewed for at the Westin resort hotel. The place
was gorgeous and elegant. It was also his number
one choice on the list of jobs for which he’d
interviewed without really expecting a good result.

But it was the best result he could have hoped

for.

So why was he feeling no joy?

Because Drew wasn’t answering his calls, that

was why. Nor had he responded to any of the half
dozen messages Oliver had left over the course of
the afternoon.

Oliver stared out over the marina toward Sunset

Key. All around him, the daily carnival of the sunset
celebration went on. Musicians played, jugglers
juggled,

and

magicians

performed

for

the

appreciative crowd. A guy dressed up as living
statue posed for pictures with the tourists while a
dude in a clown costume and face paint rode a
unicycle and whistled Mozart concertos.

But none of it brought even the smallest smile to

Oliver. He sat alone in the sunset bar, a margarita
untouched on the table in front of him.

He wished Drew was here to share his good

news. But it seemed he’d fucked things up royally
and now wouldn’t even be given the chance to
explain.

He picked up his drink and took a sip, hardly

tasting the tangy sweetness of the alcohol.

At the next table a man stood, a copy of the

local paper in his hand. From the corner of his eye,
Oliver glimpsed the photograph on the front. It was
only a glimpse, and he couldn’t be sure, so he stood
and stepped over the guy who was digging in his
wallet for money to pay his tab.

“Excuse me, could I see your paper for a

minute?”

The guy glanced up. “You can have it.”

“Thanks.” Oliver took the paper, and sure

enough, Faith’s beautiful face smiled at him from the
front page.

And suddenly, Oliver knew what he had to do. It

might not work, but he needed to try all the same.

* * *

Drew pushed aside the curtain and entered the

backstage dressing area. The beads swung and
clicked behind him, the sound blending with the DJ’s
dance-mix, the music that accompanied the drag
queens’ exit from the stage.

The place was a wreck, the way it always was

after a show with dresses and shoes, wigs hats,
scarves and jewelry everywhere as if some
fashionista’s closet had exploded and scattered
debris in all directions. He would have company any
minute when the other performers finished collecting
their tips, but for the moment he was alone.

Slinky material whispered and sighed as Drew

Slinky material whispered and sighed as Drew

shoved a pile of brightly colored dresses to the floor
and sank into the chair they had occupied. He
groaned as he slid his feet out of the scarlet, peep-
toe heels, which, while they might make his legs look
amazing, hurt like a mother. He pulled his aching left
foot up onto his right thigh and began massaging the
instep. He did the same with the other one then,
letting his still-aching foot slide to the floor, rose and
went to the dressing table to begin removing his
makeup.

As Drew sat down on the vanity stool and

reached for a Kleenex, the beaded curtain parted,
and in the mirror, he saw Oliver standing in the
doorway.

What the hell was he doing here? And where

were the bouncers who were supposed to keep the
audience members out of the performers’ area?

Drew saw his own surprise, or rather Faith’s,

reflected in the glass. Her heavily made-up eyes
widened, and her scarlet lips formed a silent O. The
Kleenex fluttered to the table, and they stared at
each other for what might have been a minute or an
hour.

“Excuse me,” Oliver said. “But can I come in?”

He knows, was all Drew could think. He freaking

knows, and now he’s here to bust me.

Wait. He cut the thought off. Just chill a minute.

How could he know? And even if he did, it couldn’t
be a problem unless he, Drew, let it be.

Drew took a breath and tried to calm his racing

pulse.

Easy now. Let him make the first move.

Faith smiled at Oliver in the mirror. “Why sure,

sugar. Come on in.”

Oliver returned her smile and stepped into the

cluttered space. “I’m sorry to bother you. You
probably don’t even remember me, but…”

Don’t remember him? Drew had a sudden flash

of memory, this beautiful boy sweaty and naked
under him, Oliver’s long, thick cock buried to the hilt
in Drew’s ass, fucking him hard and deep, sending
him over the edge and into oblivion. Yeah, like he’d
soon forget that.

Drew fought to control his expression and not let

any of what he felt show on Faith’s face.

Was it possible Oliver really didn’t know the boy

he’d slept with last night and the drag queen sitting in
front of him were one and the same person?
Apparently it was.

“A few nights ago, you gave me this.” Oliver

produced the leather rosebud and offered it. “Or
actually, I gave it to you first; then you gave it back to
me. Do you remember?”

“So it was you who left that for me.”

“Yeah.” Oliver held out the flower. “I’d really like

you to have it back.”

Drew felt like an observer as he watched Faith

accept the flower from Oliver. Their fingers brushed,
and the brief touch tingled all the way up Drew’s arm
and sizzled throughout his body. Inside his thong his
dick stirred.

God, he couldn’t do this.

But Faith could. Faith could do anything. He let

her step up and take over.

“Aren’t you sweet?” Lifting the rosebud to her

face, she stroked it along her cheek, her gaze
steady on Oliver. “Is that what you came here for? To
give me back this flower?”

“No, not exactly. I wanted to talk to you about…”

He hesitated.

The seconds ticked by, and Oliver seemed

stuck, unable to say what he wanted or even to
speak at all.

“About what?” Faith tucked the rose into her

fake cleavage.

Oliver followed the movement of her hand. He

licked his lips. “It’s about your roommate.”

“You mean Drew? What about him?”

“Well, see, we went out a couple times, and—

Did he mention me by any chance?”

Okay, so, to lie or not to lie—that would be the

question.

But before the question had to be answered, the

curtained was pushed aside, and Gregory appeared
in the doorway, his arms loaded down with roses.
Without waiting for an invitation, he entered the
dressing room and walked to where Faith sat.

“Fantastic show! You were so right about the

Gypsy number.” He held out the flowers, bent, and
kissed Faith’s cheek. “For my star. You were

fabulous tonight.”

Heat suffused Drew’s face, and he had no

choice but to take the flowers. “Thanks, Gregory.”

From the corner of his eye, Drew saw Oliver

edging toward the curtain as if he meant to slip
away.

“Oliver, wait.” Laying the roses aside, Drew

stood. In his stocking feet, he was shorter than both
of the other men. “Gregory, this is Oliver. Oliver, my
boss, Gregory. He owns Mango Mango.”

“I hope we’re also friends, Drew.” Gregory

turned to Oliver and extended his hand. “It’s nice to
meet you.”

But Oliver wasn’t looking at Gregory. No, he

was staring at Faith. “Drew? Did he just—Are you—”

Yeah, he was so busted.

What could he do but cop to it, all of it?

Reaching up, Drew pulled off his wig and

dropped it to the floor. “Yeah, Ollie. It’s me.”

Oliver stared as Drew, or Faith, or somebody

shoved fingers through dark hair damp with sweat

but familiar in its cut and color. In fact, less than
twenty-four hours ago, he’d run his own fingers
through that hair, and he remembered well how soft
and silky it was.

This person standing before him was very

definitely Drew. Despite the dress and false
boobage and the makeup, he could see it now, the
unmistakable likeness between the boy from the
bike-rental shop, the boy he’d given his cherry to,
and the drag queen of his dreams.

“Jesus, it is you!” And Oliver laughed.

Those beautiful, familiar dark eyes widened,

then Drew turned to Gregory. “Could you give us a
minute?”

Gregory looked totally confused, but he smiled

and nodded graciously. “Of course. I’ll be at the bar.”

Once he was gone, Drew turned back to Oliver.

“I’m sorry. I should have told you, I guess.”

“Why didn’t you?”

“Because I liked you, and I didn’t want you to

think I was a freak. Now I guess you just think I’m a
liar, and that is so much better.” Drew laughed, the

sound filled with disgust.

“Well, I wasn’t exactly Mr. Honesty either, about

Jonathan and all.”

“So we’re a couple of lying assholes.” Drew

sank down on the stool and lowered his head into his
hands. “That’s great. What a pair.”

“I don’t think you’re a freak,” Oliver said. “If that

helps. I might have a few days ago, but not now.”

Drew raised his head and gazed at him from

the face that was a strange blend of the boy who had
made love with him for the first time and the drag
queen Oliver hadn’t been able to stop thinking about
since that mind-blowing kiss.

“What changed from a few days ago?”

“I like you,” Oliver said simply. “Even when

you’re…you know, like this, with the dress and the
makeup and all, I still like you because you’re still
you. This is nothing but packaging. And since I’m
being so honest, I kind of like that too.”

Drew smiled. “I like you too. But you’re leaving

in a couple of days, so—”

“Yeah, but I’ll be back.”

Oliver filled Drew in on the job offer and his

plans to move to Key West as soon as school was
done.

“And what about Jonathan?”

“We really are broken up. It’s a long story, and I’ll

be glad to tell you, but we really aren’t together
anymore.”

Drew leaned back and propped his elbows on

the edge of the dressing table. “Wow, so you’re
really coming back sans boyfriend, huh?”

Oliver nodded. “Looks like.”

“I sort of have something else I should tell you

too.”

“Don’t tell me—you have a boyfriend.”

Drew shook his head. “No, but I have a job offer

in Las Vegas. They want me there by the end of the
month.”

Oliver felt all the joy drain out of him as if

someone had pulled a plug. “Las Vegas. Wow.
That’s far.”

Drew nodded. “The job is at a new club

Gregory’s opening called Sequins.”

“So when do you leave?” Oliver forced the

question past his disappointment. But he couldn’t
quite manage to add congratulations.

“I haven’t said I’d take it yet.” Drew sat forward,

his gaze intent on Oliver. “I was kind of waiting to
hear about another position.”

“What’s that?”

“Well, I hear there might be an opening as your

boyfriend, if you think I could qualify.”

Oliver laughed, his relief so strong it weakened

his knees. “I think you’d be perfect for the job.”

“Me too,” Drew said. He stood and reached for

Oliver. “So, have you got a place to live yet?”

“Not yet. I need to find something pretty fast, I

guess.” Oliver stepped into Drew’s arms and pulled
him close. God, but he felt good and so right even
with the false padding.

“Want to move in with me?” Drew nuzzled the

sensitive spot under Oliver’s ear.

“I’d like that.” Oliver let his hands slide down

Drew’s body, over the slippery satin of his skirt, and
down to his ass. “But maybe we should see how

Faith feels about it first.”

“Oh, I think she’ll be fine with it.” Drew angled his

hips, his erection pushing against Oliver’s growing
hardness as Drew smiled up into his eyes. “In fact, I
think she’ll be thrilled.”

Epilogue

The final bars of the vintage Cher song faded,

the rich contralto holding those last notes even as the
applause burst like water through a dam. The
slender figure in shimmering silver bowed and blew
kisses, soaking up the audience’s adoration like it
was her due, which of course it was.

Backstage Oliver’s heart swelled with pride and

pleasure as he watched from his place secreted
behind the curtain. He knew well how much the
cheers and applause meant to his lover, how far
every smile and compliment went toward validating
the choices Drew had made over the past months.

With a wave and a flurry of kisses, Drew’s alter

ego, Faith Cummings, strutted off the stage. Hair
damp with sweat and face glowing, the glamorous
Faith launched herself into Oliver’s arms.

Before a word was exchanged, they locked lips.

It had become a tradition, a good-luck charm
passed between them before and after every show.

Her slim, stocking-clad legs wrapped around

Oliver’s waist, her fingers fisted in his hair as their
tongues tangled.

Oliver was swamped by the feel and taste and

scent of his lover, both sides of his lover, the sexy
boy who rented bikes by day and the glitzy drag
queen who wowed audiences by night. He adored
them both.

At last the kiss broke. Faith unwound her legs

and leaned back in Oliver’s arms. “Well?”

“You were amazing as always.” Oliver grinned.

“You know you were. It’s all over your face.”

“I was, wasn’t I?” The laugh was rich and throaty.

They kissed again, longer, deeper, hotter this

time.

Oliver’s dick stiffened in his jeans. He adjusted

his hold, sliding his hands down to Faith’s—Drew’s
—most excellent ass and angling their bodies to
bring their cocks into closer alignment.

“You’re hard for me,” Oliver murmured against

his lover’s lips.

“I am. Which is why we have to get out of here

like right fucking now.”

“I thought we were supposed to have drinks with

Gregory and his friends after the show.”

“We were, but we aren’t. C’mon.”

Slipping out of Oliver’s arms, Faith caught his

hand and began dragging him through the warren of
backstage hallways. They reached what Oliver
assumed must be the club’s rear door.

Faith hit the emergency bar, the door opened,

and they spilled into the night.

Even though Drew had turned down the job at

Sequins, Gregory had asked him if Faith would do a
weeklong series of appearances to help launch the
new club. Drew had agreed, but only after he’d
talked Oliver into coming with him as a sort of
graduation trip. And now here the two of them were,
in Vegas, all expenses paid, and having the time of
their lives.

Oliver knew he should feel guilty for blowing off

drinks with their host and sneaking off like this, but
as his lover’s hand closed around his and they
ducked down the alley behind Sequins, he couldn’t
seem to manage it.

Behind them the door opened, and a voice

called, “Hey, Faith! Where are you going?”

“Hurry,” Faith snapped and began to run.

“How can you run in those shoes?” Oliver asked

as he was dragged around a corner and down a
side street.

Thinking of the four-inch silver stilettos Faith had

been wearing on stage, Oliver could imagine
sprained ankles and a trip to the ER instead of a
romantic evening of hot, sweaty sex with his sweetie.
But when he tried to slow down, Faith only picked up
speed.

She grinned at him over her shoulder. “Baby,

when you’re used to dancing in spikes, running’s a
snap, especially with the right motivation.”

Oliver laughed even as his heart skipped a

beat, and forgot all about Gregory and the après-
show drinks. He wondered briefly when Faith would

recede and Drew would reappear.

Not that it mattered to him. Whether the

transition took minutes or hours—and it could be
either depending on the night—it made no
difference, as he was crazy about them both.

Feet pounding the pavement, they rounded

another corner, and their hotel came into view.

With a glance behind them, Faith slowed the

pace and slipped an arm through Oliver’s. “Wheeew,
that was close. I thought for a minute we wouldn’t
make it.”

“I’m glad you didn’t want to go out,” Oliver said

as they made their way along the sidewalk. Neon
flashed, and music spilled from open doorways. It
reminded him a little of Key West on steroids, if Key
West had somehow gotten plunked down in the
middle of the desert.

Inside the hotel, they crossed the lobby arm in

arm and stopped in front of the bank of elevators.
Oliver couldn’t help noticing the glances they
attracted.

And why not?

Faith was gorgeous, and he was, without a

doubt, the luckiest guy in the place to have her on his
arm.

The elevator dinged, the doors slid back, and

they stepped in. Oliver punched the button for their
floor, and the doors closed. They were alone.

He found himself pressed back against the side

of the elevator, his lover’s slender body plastered
against him.

“Kiss me, Ollie. I’m so—”

The words cut off as their mouths came

together.

The hot, potent flavor of man flooded Oliver’s

mouth and heated his system. His cock, already half-
hard from anticipation alone, swelled and pushed
against his zipper.

Drew—and Oliver could tell it was Drew now—

shifted in Oliver’s arms, letting the hard length of their
erections brush. The contact was electric even
through their clothes.

“Oh, God,” Oliver gasped. He slid his hands

down to the tempting swell of Drew’s ass. He loved

the way the slick silver fabric skimmed the lean lines
and hard muscles of the beautiful boy in his arms.

“I want you,” Drew murmured. He nipped

Oliver’s throat, his hand sliding down and cupping
Oliver’s erection. “Right now.”

The elevator stopped on their floor and the door

opened.

With their arms still around each other, they

circled out of the elevator and down the hall to their
door.

Oliver dug the key card from his pocket and

jabbed it at the slot. He missed and fumbled, nearly
dropping the card, thanks to the busy, clever hands
already working their way inside his jeans.

“Let me unlock the door.” Oliver laughed, then

gasped when Drew clamped long fingers around his
dick. “God!”

Breathless and aching for more than just Drew’s

hands, Oliver jammed the key card into the slot. The
lock beeped, the door opened, and they fell into the
room.

“Hurry. I want you right now.” Drew yanked the

end of Oliver’s belt free of the buckle, then flipped
open the button. He pushed at the jeans, edging
them down his boyfriend’s hips. “Now, baby, now.”

“How?”

“Like this. I want you to fuck me just like this.”

They tumbled on to the king-size bed in a tangle

of arms and legs. They rolled over twice and nearly
fell off the other side before they stopped with Oliver
ending up on top.

He propped himself on his elbows and studied

his lover’s face. Skin flushed, lips and eyes
smudged, it was still the most beautiful face Oliver
had ever seen, caught between boy and girl, public
mask and private revelation.

Oliver framed the perfect face between his

palms. “You’re so beautiful.”

Drew smiled up at him. “Am I? You want to fuck

me? You sure?”

“You know I do. You make me so hard. Faith

makes me so hard. God, Drew, I never knew I could
want…”

“I did. I do.” Drew’s smile turned sultry, and he

lowered his lashes. “Now show me how much.”

Reaching down between them, Oliver tugged up

the slinky silver skirt and bunched it around Drew’s
waist. The underwear was black and sheer and
hardly covered his lover’s straining erection. The
sight of it stole his breath.

Sliding down he rubbed his cheek against his

lover’s cock, his beard stubble rasping softly over
the delicate fabric of the thong. He turned his head
and pressed his lips against the hot, hard flesh,
mouthing the length through the whisper-thin material
until he reached the head. He sucked, savoring the
familiar flavor of his lover and the arousing feel of silk
against his lips and tongue.

“Please, Ollie, do it now. I can’t wait.” Drew

fisted his fingers in Oliver’s hair and tugged.

Ignoring the slight pain in his scalp, Oliver

moved lower, trailing his lips over the smooth golden
skin, bare above the tops of the glittery stockings.
He ran his hands down the slim legs and circled his
fingertips lightly over the secret sensitive place
behind Drew’s knee. He was rewarded with a sigh
and a moan.

“Please, Ollie?”

Pressing a kiss to the inside of his lover’s knee,

Oliver fumbled a condom from the pocket of the
jeans scrunched around his thighs. He tore it open
and sheathed himself before getting to his knees
and grabbing the lube from the bedside table.

Drew bent his knees, exposing himself in a

familiar move designed to make Oliver hurry. He
yanked the thong aside and fingered his hole.
“C’mon, I’m dying here. I need you inside me.”

Oliver chuckled.

It was always like this after a particularly good

show—Drew needy and begging for speed, Oliver
taking his time and savoring every moment, every
gesture on the way to being joined so intimately with
his lover.

Lube squelched from the bottle into his palm.

Oliver spread a generous amount over his cock, then
slicked up his fingers. Slowly, carefully, he slid one,
then two into Drew’s hole, scissoring them apart,
gently stretching and getting him ready.

Inching closer, Oliver positioned his cock, then

paused. “Open your eyes, baby. I want to see you.”

Drew’s lashes fluttered, his eyes opened, and

he focused on Oliver’s face. “Fuck me.”

The words came out on a purr, the voice half

Drew and half Faith and more erotic than Oliver had
thought possible.

He pressed forward and slowly pushed inside,

filling his lover’s ass, concentrating on not going too
fast, afraid if he did, he might come, and it would be
over too soon.

“Ah, God.” Drew sighed. “Feels so… Ollie, need

you. Give me more. Please?”

“Whatever you want.” Oliver panted. Sweat ran

from his hairline and dripped into his eyes. It stung,
and he blinked it away.

He continued with a slow, steady pressure, not

stopping until he was buried balls-deep in his lover’s
channel. The heat was exquisite, the tight grip
gloriously mind-numbing.

He focused on the dark eyes gazing up at him,

the full lips, wet and parted just enough to show a hint
of tongue.

“Ollie.” A warm hand cupped Oliver’s cheek

before fingers combed back the hair flopping over
his eyes.

“Drew… Faith… God…”

Oliver turned his head and pressed his lips to

the inside of his lover’s wrist. He’d never thought he
could feel so much and so quickly. It exhilarated and
terrified him.

“I think I’m crazy about you, baby.” The words

were spoken softly, a husky sigh that wasn’t much
more than a breath.

“Me too,” Oliver murmured, and he began to

move.

Loose Id Titles by Kimberly Gardner

Almost Heaven

Dressed to Thrill

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.

Table of Contents

Title page
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Epilogue
Loose Id Titles by Kimberly Gardner
Kimberly Gardner