Bad Attitude (19 page)

“We didn’t have KZ, but Pellegrino has bubbles at least.”

Jamie peered in. In addition to the sparkling water, there were sandwiches, fruit and cheese. When had—?

“I texted to see if Perry could stock up for us,” Gavin answered before Jamie could ask it.

“He must love getting your texts.”

“Small galley, salon, and head below.” Gavin pointed at the teak hatch. “But there’s a wet bar up here.” He produced two glasses from the cabinet near the cockpit captain chairs. “It’s comfortable enough for an overnight, if you ever wanted to take it out to the ocean.”

Like Jamie wouldn’t immediately start trying to think of a way to make that happen. He ran a tongue around the inside of his cheek.

“Something wrong?” Gavin asked.

“Just checking for a hook in my mouth.”

Gavin thunked the glasses on top of the bar and stepped back, raising his hands as if he were under arrest.

“No hooks. Strictly catch and release.”

“Huh.” Jamie was starting to wonder if he wanted to wiggle free. He’d been enjoying Gavin’s company plenty in the little row house in Dundalk. Out here, with the sun scattering diamonds over the waves, everything felt dangerously good. The kind of good it was a mistake to trust in. He supposed it went without saying that a picnic lunch on a yacht made his invitation to hear the blues in a local dive more than a bit pathetic.

“Guy could get used to this, is all I’m saying.” Jamie moved sternward.

“Are you intimating that my hedonistic lifestyle isn’t without merit?”

“I knew I should have bought that dictionary app for my phone,” Jamie muttered. “All I got is that it doesn’t suck.” He glanced at the boat’s name, reading aloud. “
Carpe Diem
.”

“It means ‘Seize the day.’”

“Thanks, Captain, I saw that movie too.”

“It was my mother’s favorite saying.”

“She had a point.”

Gavin handed Jamie a champagne glass of sparkling water. Jamie lifted it to chime against the one Gavin held.

“To your mom.”

“Carpe diem.” Gavin tapped Jamie’s glass.

Jamie took a sip. It wasn’t sweet like KZ, but right then, everything felt perfect the way it was. He slipped a hand around Gavin’s neck and pulled him into a kiss.

There was salt on his lips, a faint taste of the ocean and sun. Jamie went for another kiss, just lips, but the electricity was right there at the surface under Gavin’s skin, under Jamie’s skin, and it didn’t seem to matter if it was out in the middle of the bay or on the deck of a patrol boat, Jamie wanted this guy. Wanted him as much because of the man Gavin was as for the way he made Jamie feel.

“So what if I said I didn’t really care if there was a hook,” he said. Because it seemed a little late to be bitching about a trap when here they both were, and neither of them showed any signs of wanting it to end.

“I thought you were definitely averse to commitments.”

“And if I was kneeling with a ring in my hand, that would matter. Thing is, I’m not too sure I’m not already flopping around on the deck.”

“Somewhere in your overused metaphor you’re making a point, but I’m afraid I’m not getting it.”

Jamie put his glass down on one of the seats and took a walk sternward. Guess he had to spell it out. He rubbed the back of his neck, staring down at the water. Maybe it was sunstroke. He’d wake up tomorrow with a new batch of freckles, red and sore and regret every word of it.

Or maybe he’d regret it more if he didn’t.

He turned to face Gavin. That crazy feeling was still there. It didn’t matter that Gavin was the type of guy who looked perfectly at home on the deck of a yacht in a golf shirt and jeans with a glass of sparkling water in his hands. Gavin looked just at home sprawled on Jamie’s couch without a stitch on. Gavin fit into Jamie the same way. Like he belonged there.

As good as it felt, as much as knowing Gavin was a phone call away could make Jamie smile, it wasn’t perfect. Didn’t stop the fist-curling frustration at knowing someone had slipped in, that by opening his mouth he was giving Gavin a free kick at Jamie’s balls.

Jamie forced his hands to uncurl and looked at Gavin’s face, his eyes. Not empty now, but damned if Jamie could read him. “I’m saying I want to be with you. I—we, this, it feels good. Really good. Fuck if I know why, but it’s there and I like it.”

As Jamie waited for an answer, his scrotum tightened with the warning that the free kick was on its way. “Now would be a good time for Mr. Walking Dictionary to help me out.”

Gavin blinked, then his face went completely still.

Jamie was torn between jumping in and swimming until he got to someplace he could call a cab and shaking an answer out of the man turned mannequin. He was betting the swim would be at least a couple miles and the water was murky. He stepped toward Gavin.

“Nothing?” Jamie asked.

He stared into Gavin’s face. Not nothing. There was something there, like something big under the water, the threat visible in ripples. A displeased press of lips, a hint of anger in his eyes. Did he think Jamie was going to turn psycho stalker?

“Okay, fine. I get it. You don’t feel it.” Jamie moved toward the back bench that faced the stern. “I’m gonna sit out here. Take us back when you’re ready.” Jamie stared out at the green-brown waves, the sun still doing that thing where it tipped them all with diamonds, but now it just hurt his eyes. If he’d known he was going to spend the day on a yacht, he’d have brought his shades.

Breaking glass punched through the sound of birds and waves. Jamie spun around to find Gavin, who looked seriously pissed. Jamie rolled to his feet ready for a fight. Maybe some people couldn’t take a compliment.

“What the fuck was that?” Gavin grabbed his arm.

Jamie let him have it for a second, seeing what he’d thought was anger looked more like fear now that the sun wasn’t in his eyes. Hand on Gavin’s wrist, Jamie pried himself free. He was out of words. Didn’t have any answer to the look on Gavin’s face.

Gavin pinned Jamie’s shoulders in a squeezing grip. “You don’t say you’re falling in love with me, then—”

“I didn’t say anything about love—”

“Act like it didn’t fucking matter to you.”

Jamie had given him all the space he could. He tore free and shoved Gavin back a step. “Christ, Gavin, I’m not the one holding back here. When have you ever acted like any of this mattered to you?”

“You think because my ass is easy to get, my feelings should be out there for anyone to fuck over too?” Something went through Gavin, not a shudder, too small for that, just a vibration, but when Jamie put a hand on Gavin’s arm, there was a thrum like the engine had been turned over.

“What are we even fighting about?” Jamie asked, rubbing a thumb across Gavin’s cheek.

“Fighting seems to be a way of life with you.”

“When I feel something, I say it. I don’t bullshit around. What I said, I meant it. I don’t know what to call it, but it’s there. Carpe diem, right?”

“Simply the feeling of the day?”

Jamie shook his head. “Nah. Starting to think you had me hooked under the bridge that night.”

Gavin laughed, but there was nothing happy about it. “High, frozen and semiconscious. I’m sure I made a terrific impression.”

“You’ve impressed the hell out of me.”

“This feeling. Can you give the walking dictionary more to go on?” Gavin’s lips quirked.

“Can’t explain it. Doesn’t feel like anything else.”

Gavin cradled Jamie’s head and kissed him lightly. After touching a thumb to Jamie’s lips, Gavin kissed him again. “Do you know how many men, besides you, I’ve brought to the manor?”

Jamie wanted to say he really didn’t care. If there was another orgy invitation, Gavin could fuck whoever he wanted as long as he went home with Jamie.

“None,” Gavin said.

“Wait, I might have failed algebra a few times. You’re not counting yourself there, right? It’s not one of those logic riddles? Because my head hurts.”

“No.” Gavin smiled. Really smiled. It showed in his eyes, and there was the whole sunshine-on-the-water thing again except Jamie was looking at Gavin. “You’re the only man I’ve ever asked to come home with me. I don’t know—I don’t know if that’s the kind of answer you want, but I wanted to tell you that.”

Chapter Thirteen

Gavin was surprised Jamie wanted to ride to his friend’s house in Mount Washington for the party. He’d never shown an interest in the Bentley before. Gavin dangled the keys in temptation, but after a second where lust shone bright in Jamie’s eyes, Jamie shook his head, a half smile curling his mouth.

“I know it would get me hard, might even get me off. And that would ruin the plans I got for when we get home. Besides, think of your interior.”

“It’s seen worse.” Gavin shrugged.

“Yeah?” Was there jealousy in Jamie’s square-jawed stare, or was that wishful thinking? “You and your friends—Beach or Soren go in for that?”

“Soren considers only Jaguars fit for driving. And while Beach is up for anything if it means he gets off, I—that was a very long time ago. Pre-Bentley.”

“He—how’s he doing?”

“I try to get in to see him a few times a week. They’re talking about moving him to a long-term care facility. According to the medical profession, if he were going to wake, he would have by now.”

Jamie nodded. “Guess the medically induced coma thing wasn’t what they thought it would be.”

“You—how do you know about the treatment?”

“I checked a ways back. Not everybody makes it, but I like to know. File’s still open.”

“Part of your job.”

“Just glad your file’s closed. Actually, I’m glad the whole thing got yanked right out of my hand.”

Despite what Jamie had said on the boat, Gavin couldn’t help looking for signs of Jamie’s disapproval. They’d seemed evident before. Now everything came with a double meaning. “Why?”

“They frown on you fucking someone in an open investigation.”

“Ah.” Sex was the one thing Gavin was sure they were clear on.

Though Jamie had wanted a ride, he seemed uncomfortable in the passenger seat, shifting around, rubbing his fingers on the inlaid wood, the leather interior, examining all the console buttons.

Gavin hesitated then asked, “Is everything okay with your truck?”

“Oh yeah, it’s fine.” Jamie sat back for an instant, but then his head was moving again.

“You usually prefer to drive.”

“Yeah, but rolling up in your Bentley is going to make Quinn shit out a kidney.”

Jamie went back to scanning everywhere, checking the mirrors. His eyes met Gavin’s in the rear view, then Jamie turned to peer into the backseat.

Gavin didn’t need to see the cop face he’d become familiar with. Jamie’s irritated suspicion came through in his voice.

“What the hell’s that?”

Gavin didn’t have to straighten to see the small gift box in the mirror, but he did a double-check to be sure they were talking about the same thing.

“It’s a gift. You said it was a birthday party.”

“For a friend of my friend’s boyfriend.” Jamie looked back again. “And the wine?”

“For the host.”

“Ah fuck, pull in there.” Jamie pointed at the convenience store approaching on their right. Gavin slid into a parking spot at the edge of the store. “I’ll be right back.” Jamie stomped off into the store.

Gavin waited. When it was tucked into the dark, quiet alley behind Jamie’s row house, Gavin had never considered the impression the Bentley made in Dundalk. It was simply his car; Dundalk was simply where Jamie lived. But now as passersby cranked their heads to stare, Gavin felt ridiculous. Ashamed. Maybe Jamie had reasons other than being a control freak for taking the truck everywhere.

They’d ventured beyond Jamie’s bed a few times this week. Gavin still wasn’t certain what had prompted the speech on the
Carpe Diem
, but to Jamie, it apparently meant that now they were, for want of a better word, involved.

Jamie called daily to make plans, which in addition to the previous invitations to “come over tonight” included actually making it to the bar with good live blues, and a trip to his favorite restaurant in Little Italy. One night, Jamie called to cancel his earlier invitation to “maybe see a movie after I get out of work” to explain that he might not get out of work until after midnight, and Gavin could read about it in the papers.

It was the only night that week that they didn’t spend together, and Gavin had found himself curiously aware of Jamie’s absence, of a wistfulness Gavin thought he’d cured himself of long ago. But despite how used to sleeping alone in his bed he was, it had only taken a few days to grow accustomed to Jamie’s warmth, that presence bigger than his body that had come to mean more than just the amazing sex.

Gavin had been lying awake that night when his phone buzzed silently with a text some time after 2 a.m.

Just got in. You up?

Yes,
he sent back quickly.

Jamie called an instant later. “Christ, what a night.”

“What happened?”

“Typical cluster fuck of incompetence and too many shit stirrers. Tell you about it another time.”

“Okay.”

“Where are you?”

“In bed,” Gavin answered.

“Me too. I had a plan for a little phone sex if you were still awake, but…” Jamie huffed a quick laugh, sounding almost diffident, “…I’m afraid I’ll fall asleep on you.”

Gavin made a noise to indicate he’d heard, but couldn’t imagine what Jamie expected Gavin to say. If Jamie hadn’t called to complain about his day or for sex, what was he looking for?

“I hate it when things screw with a perfectly good plan,” Jamie said. He heaved a sigh so quintessentially Jamie that Gavin felt him there. “But we’re on for tomorrow.” Jamie didn’t give Gavin a chance to confirm it before saying, “Pick me up around seven. Why don’t you drive?”

The idea that Jamie was inviting him to a friend’s party left Gavin hanging between apprehension and curiosity. As much as he looked forward to seeing a different facet of Jamie’s life, Gavin didn’t understand why he was invited. “The birthday celebrant, how old will he be?”

“Don’t know. Old enough to drink, but not by much is my guess.”