Not His Kiss to Take (28 page)

Two weeks of self-defense lessons from Ang in her combat boots made him feel a whole lot better about himself. Safer. From her lessons he’d also learned he could move damned fast when needed, as in needing to escape Angelina in seek-and-destroy mode because he’d stupidly made a disparaging remark about a certain (and obviously meaningful) tattoo. Ooh boy. Epic fail. Who knew Ang had it in her to be sentimental?

Since Jamie had absolutely no intention of running back to Bremerton with his tail between his legs, he went where he really wanted—needed—to go the day after Evan kicked him out, that day when everything turned so horrible: California. He’d always gotten along with Angie best. He just hadn’t expected to spill his guts the first night he got there, telling her absolutely
every damned thing
that happened, thanks to her goddamned emergency stockpile of Patrón. Those big secrets were his, damn it. But afterward, he’d kinda felt better and it didn’t hurt so much. Not Ang. Took her a full day to feel better. Shock and tequila didn’t mix. Good to know.

Her one and only piece of advice, after the blah, blah condom lecture (like he’d ever have sex without one), had been simple. If you wanted something bad enough, you went after it. So Jamie was gonna go after it—him.
Evan
. Doctor Pervy-Pants wasn’t slipping away that easily. They had unfinished business between them.

If Evan truly didn’t want him, Jamie’d live with it. But he didn’t think that was the case. After the first eight hundred miles of misery with only his thoughts for company—well, his thoughts and a trio of traveling grannies who plied him with stale mints and really bad Nora Roberts paperbacks—he realized Evan had lied. Fucker. Made him mad all over again just thinking about it. And he was such a craptastic liar too. How’d he ever fall for it?

Somehow, for reasons only Evan’s bent mind could comprehend, the doc decided Jamie would be better off without him. Except…Jamie did know why
. Because I never kissed him.

Knew I shoulda done it while I had the chance.

But I’m gonna take back that chance now.

He’d also be taking a taxi. No way was he getting on a city bus in his new suit. Jamie shuddered.
Bus. Ugh.
Being the greatest auntie a guy could have, Angie drove him all the way back to Spokane and spared his poor lungs a repeat exhaust-fume choke-fest. Actually, they took turns driving, since Jamie really did want to get back in one piece and Ang drove her SUV like she thought it was a tank. Maybe she had missiles or shells or whatever the hell tanks used right there under the hood, waiting for the press of a secret red button. Hopefully she made it to Bremerton for her impromptu sisterly visit without blowing anyone up.

Except maybe Derek. That’d be cool.

The nerves set in the minute he got into the thankfully puke-free cab.
What if he’s really not interested and you got it all wrong and he wasn’t lying? That he wasn’t acting all noble because he thought he was hurting you? You’ll just be making a total fool of yourself for nothing.
But if he was right…

Every night, sleepless on Angie’s lumpy couch, he remembered…
things
. Hands, mouths, stroking fingers. Breathless whispers. Waking up in a strange and wonderful tangle of limbs or with Evan curled protectively around him, breath hot on the back of Jamie’s neck. Jamie had missed the sleeping together as much as the fantastic sex. Despite his having gone to bed with a few girls, he’d never actually
slept
with one. All his life, he realized, he’d slept alone. Until Evan.

Somehow, someway, he had to get that back again.

And if he couldn’t, he’d at least apologize for all those nasty, hurtful things he’d said. God, he’d been so horrible. Jamie cringed.
You sounded just like Derek
. Evan didn’t deserve that. Didn’t deserve to believe he was some kind of predator. He’d give anything for a do-over.

When he exited the taxi in front of Evan’s building, the butterflies in his stomach morphed into mutant, killer moths with teeth. While primping in front of the mirror, he’d kinda rehearsed what he wanted to say, but now, standing by the entrance, both his confidence and semi-prepared speech deserted him. They both took the hell off to parts unknown. Went Absent Without Leave.

Fuck. Now what?

I can’t do this.

The tie tightened around his neck, a big pewter noose. His hands began to sweat. This wasn’t supposed to be so goddamned hard. His legs wobbled as he forced himself toward the intercom. Before he could chicken out, Jamie keyed the penthouse’s number into the pad. Showtime. Would Evan ignore him when he saw him standing there from his video screen? Jamie waited. And worried. Waited some more.

No reply.
Well, guess that answers that question.
Unless…maybe he wasn’t home? Sure. Evan was
always
home. Or maybe he had a migraine and couldn’t get up. Or maybe aliens had abducted him—yeah, that was what happened. Knowing Evan, he’d spot the anal probe and want to try it out on them.
Maybe he just doesn’t want to see you. Why the fuck would he even want to?

You’re not gay.

Only, Jamie wasn’t so sure about that anymore. As suspected, Melissa had started dating his roommate, Brayden, while he’d been in Sacramento. When he got back and saw her again, hanging on to Bray like he might escape given the slightest chance, he’d felt…
nothing
. Not a single spark of interest. Yet looking at the picture he’d snapped with his phone of naked Evan sound asleep, all hard muscles and hairy chest, gave him an instant hard-on. Thinking about it
now
gave him a hard-on.

Still no answer. The hurt burned all over again in his throat before sliding down into his chest.
I tried.
A gust of wind whipped into the entry, and Jamie suddenly felt the bitter bite of cold. He’d been so eager to see Evan, so desperate, he’d hightailed it over here without remembering to put on a coat. He stared at the unwelcoming front doors with longing. Really didn’t pay to wish for what you could never have.

Why’d he keep on doing that?

Head down and shivering, he stepped away from the entrance and wondered where the nearest bus stop was—didn’t matter if his suit got dirty now. Thankfully, the streets were deserted. Since he’d moved, left his friends and his life behind, he’d used the presence of strangers, however impersonal, to cut the loneliness. Now strangers made him nervous. Jamie shoved his hands deep into his trouser pockets, hunched his shoulders to keep warm and headed into the wind.

Could Evan possibly be at that bar where they’d…
met
? Ha, ha, right. Met.
You’re fucking hilarious, Jamie-boy. You should be a comedian. What you really mean is the bar where Evan had to scrape you up off the floor after you got shit-kicked to within an inch of your life. You didn’t “meet” him.

That place was close by, two or three blocks, tops. Maybe?
Give it one last shot and see if it was meant to be. Besides, Angie said you have to go back there and face up to what happened or it’ll haunt you forever. Turn you into some kind of pansy-ass. Or maybe that was just the tequila talking. Whatever. Drunk or sober, she’s right.

Plus you gotta make peace with Evan and with what happened; otherwise, you might as well have stayed in Bremerton and been nothing and nobody.

The walk felt like it took ten seconds. No snow this time. The neon signs were the same, though. So was the well-lit entrance. The beery smell.
The only thing different is me
. A swirling vortex of cold air trapped in the entrance snuck through his suit jacket. Cold as he was, he still couldn’t make himself open the door.
It’s not safe. Not safe, not safe, not safe…

But…Evan could be inside. Right now!

Don’t waste this chance because you’re afraid. Man up. Think of the kiss.

The kiss…
Oh yeah, Jamie could think of the kiss, no problem. All he’d thought about for days, really. Just had to
go for it
if he wanted it
. They didn’t break you.
They hadn’t. Not even close. Besides, Angie had taught him fifty ways to disable an attacker, bigger or not, several of which involved methods that had made him wish for a pair of barbed-wire pants during their practice sessions. So, no need for this unfounded fear, none at all.

If you want something bad enough, you gotta go after it.

Well, fuck. Facing up to his fear was the price to be paid for the possibility of that kiss.

Pretty steep.

Totally worth it.
Steeling himself, he grabbed the door handle and yanked.

Chapter
Sixteen

As Evan sat picking the last bits of the label off his beer bottle—stupid, immature habit—he cursed himself for not thinking of hiring a private investigator long before now. How stupid could you get? And how hard could it be to find one damned person, anyway? Slippery little shit. Stubborn even in the way he’d disappeared without a trace. Evan’s knot of worry tightened. What if something happened to Jamie?

Not like such happenings weren’t without precedent…

After lurking in the parking lot at closing time of the grease-bucket that fired Jamie, he’d found someone willing to violate their employer’s confidentiality policy and get him the brat’s address from the employment records. That had been a lesson and a half. You really could bribe people just that easy. Huh. With a fifty. Guy probably would’ve done it for twenty. Evan would have paid a hell of a lot more.

The other half of the life lesson came twenty minutes later. Jamie’s roommates were both assholes. The only thing they cared about was Jamie getting his ass back in time to pay his third of the rent. Or was Evan good for it? No, they didn’t know where he went. Yeah, he seemed fine when he left, and what was the big deal, anyway? Did they look like fucking babysitters? It only eased his mind a little that both roomies claimed Jamie could take care of himself.

Evan might be a dominant, but he never considered he might have some deep-seated sadistic urges as well. For Jamie’s two roomies, he’d have to rethink that based on how quickly he’d visualized a dozen different ways of inflicting serious pain on their gagged, bound, and strung-up bodies. And he’d enjoy it.

“
Evan?” Joseph Chase said, shocking his mind back into the here and now.

Damn it. This was not like him. Since Jamie left, he could barely keep a thought in his muddled head. And
he’d
been the one to invite Joseph for the drink, taking steps to reconnect—Jamie’s suggestions had gotten under his skin, the clever boy. So he could at least make an effort to pay attention to the man. “Sorry, Joseph. What did you say?”

Joseph gave him a weary smile. Guess it was obvious Evan’s mind had drifted elsewhere and more than once. “Someone’s staring at you.”

“
What?”

“
Over there. Hot blond.”

Shit. Just what he needed—female attention. Should get a T-shirt that said:
I’m gay; leave me the hell alone
on the front. Nevertheless, he looked where Joseph had indicated. Then dropped his beer—his hand sprang open like he’d been electrocuted. The bottle bounced off the table and hit the grungy carpet with a thump, thump…
fizz
. Foam splattered everywhere, soaking his arm and spraying up the side of his face.

Jamie…

Good God. So blond. So pretty.

Jamie…

Jamie wearing a…suit? Couldn’t possibly be real. Sudden heat suffused his entire body. A burning-hot point of flame centered itself in his chest and then banked slightly to the left to flare brightly inside his shattering heart. Definitely an infarct this time. The wave of heat rushed lower. Okay—not a heart attack. Forgetting all else—the background din of the bar, Joseph sitting there expectantly, time passing—he stared, eyes only on that which he wanted most.