Authors: Josh Lanyon
Icecapade
By Josh Lanyon
On the eve of the new millennium, diamond thief Noel Snow seduced FBI special agent Robert Cuffe, then fled into the dawn. Now a successful novelist, Noel uses his capers as fodder for his books, and has modeled his hero’s nemesis (and potential love interest) on Cuffe. Though he leaves Robert a drunken phone message every New Year’s Eve, Noel hasn’t seen or heard from him in a decade.
So he’s thrilled when his former lover shows up at his upstate farm one Christmas Eve. Elation quickly turns to alarm when Robert accuses Noel of being responsible for a recent rash of diamond heists. Robert is all business and as cold as ice: it seems his only interest in Noel is to put him behind bars.
Innocent of the crimes, and still as attracted as ever to the oh-so-serious lawman, Noel plans a second seduction—providing he can stay out of jail long enough!
Dear Reader,
There’s something magical about the holiday season, whether you celebrate Christmas or Kwanzaa, Hanukkah or Diwali. The energy and excitement surrounding these holidays charges the air and our emotions, providing a perfect platform for romance and love. So I knew we couldn’t let Carina Press’s first holiday season pass without celebrating it with a collection of special novella releases.
This holiday season, celebrate with our first collection of invitation-only novellas. We’ve pulled together eleven talented authors and author duos, all of whom have made their mark in their respective niches, and invited them to transport our readers with holiday delights. In
Naughty and
Nice,
join Jaci Burton, Lauren Dane, Megan Hart and Shannon Stacey as they show you both the sensual and sweet sides of the holidays. Visit post-apocalyptic worlds and paranormal beings in an enchanted journey with authors Vivi Andrews, Moira Rogers and Vivian Arend in
Winter Wishes.
And celebrate the beauty of the season in
His for
the Holidays
with m/m authors Josh Lanyon, Z.A.
Maxfield, Harper Fox and LB Gregg.
Through the talent of their writing and their captivating storytelling, I believe you’ll find something in each of these special novellas to put you in the magic of the holiday moment.
Wishing you the happiest of holiday seasons.
~Angela
Executive Editor, Carina Press
www.carinapress.com
www.twitter.com/carinapress
www.facebook.com/carinapress
Prologue
January 1st, 2000
The world did not end.
Given his hangover, maybe it should have.
Noel stared up at the tiny red eye of the hotel room smoke detector. A little late for red lights, considering the warm weight lying against him, the muscular hairy leg tangled with his own, the big hand resting possessively on his groin.
Talk about having him by the balls.
He smiled faintly, turned his head on the fine linen pillowcase to study his bedmate. Tumbled black curls, a strong nose, a thin, ironic mouth.
Not a handsome face, exactly, but undeniably attractive in a craggy, tough guy way.
So this was FBI Special Agent Robert Cuffe.
Noel’s lips twitched with self-mockery. Well, that answered one question.
He resisted the temptation to touch his mouth to the surprisingly soft lips a few inches from his own. As dearly as he’d love to wake Cuffe up for another round of fun and games, play time was over. He could see the watery frame of light Josh Lanyon
5
around the top of the long ivory draperies. It must be five-thirty or so. Longer than he’d intended to stay.
Cuffe muttered in his sleep, a gust of alcohol-scented breath warming Noel’s ear. Noel’s mouth curved again. Cuffe was a big guy and he could hold his drink all right, but Noel knew a trick or two to even the odds. Even so, there was no pretending he too hadn’t been drunk off his ass last night. To take that kind of a chance?
Definitely the worse for drink.
But it had been worth it.
From his standpoint anyway. Cuffe might feel differently once he figured out who had actually been seducing whom. Not much of a sense of humor, Special Agent Cuffe. Took himself and his mission very seriously. And his mission last night had been to try and get the goods on diamond thief Noel Snow.
And he’d been close. Not as close as he thought, but close enough. Closer than anyone else had come in the three years Noel had been in business. In fact, Noel had begun to take a friendly interest in Cuffe—even before last night.
He stretched cautiously, respectful of his aching head and the tiny, mostly pleasurable pangs of a body well used. Cuffe’s hand flexed in a responsive, an unconscious caress, and Noel’s 6
Icecapade
cock came instantly awake. He mentally shook his head. at himself.
But God, it
had
been good. What he wouldn’t give to lie curled against Cuffe’s long, strong body for a couple more hours. When Cuffe woke they could have a nice leisurely fuck, shower together, perhaps order room service. The Michelangelo had the best coffee and hot croissants outside of Paris.
But no. Cuffe would probably resemble a bear with a hangover. He was too smart not to start questioning his good luck the night before, and before long he’d put two and two together and Noel would be in bracelets—the stainless steel kind. After that, it would only be a matter of time before Cuffe figured out exactly where Dahlia Boaz’s 33-carat diamond ring had been stashed.
Speaking of which, Noel needed to get downstairs before the cleaning crew got rolling.
He threw his bedmate a final cautious look.
Cuffe continued to sleep the sleep of the just. The just fucked. His face was hard even in his dreams, softened only by ridiculous eyelashes—as thick and dark as a doll’s.
Keeping his breaths even and slow, his movements minimal, Noel inched out from beneath Cuffe’s arm and slid to the edge of the bed. He rose, careful not to bounce the mattress, Josh Lanyon
7
and stood for a moment watching Cuffe in the gloom.
Was he faking?
No.
Not much for subterfuge, Cuffe, regardless of what he believed. For nearly two years they’d been playing cat and mouse, and all this time Cuffe had imagined
he
was the cat. Noel had become quite fond of his endearingly single-minded nemesis. He always made sure to leave a few promising clues for him, enough to guarantee Cuffe remained point man on his case.
Of course after last night…well, Noel had his own problems to deal with after last night.
It took him less than three minutes to pack his remaining belongings. He never really
un
packed.
He’d enjoyed watching Cuffe painstakingly—
considering how smashed he was—rifle through his suitcase last night while Noel feigned sleep.
Easing open the hotel door, he hung out the Do Not Disturb sign, slipped into the hall and soundlessly closed the door behind him.
At this time of the morning it only took a couple of seconds to catch an elevator to the main lobby, chill and pristine as a marble tomb following the revelries of the night before. A hint of antiseptic hung in the air. Noel could hear the distant howl of a vacuum. Through artful arrangements of creamy orchids and gilt Italian 8
Icecapade
vases he spotted household staff going about their duties.
There was no sign of surveillance. No sign that anyone was paying him any attention at all. Why would they? Everyone in the city was probably recovering from the night before and the blow out New Year’s Eve party in Times Square.
Noel checked out without incident, and headed straight to the downstairs lavatory. Using the small, universal key on his fob, he opened the door of the metal trash container, moved the basket out of the way, and retrieved the plastic wrapped ring he had left tucked in the back of the metal compartment. He unzipped the lining of his London Fog trench coat, dropped the ring in and rezipped.
There was no real reason for the sick thud of his heart, the uncharacteristic tremor in his hands.
He felt as nervous as when he’d pulled his first job. Why? It was going like clockwork. Hangover.
That’s all this was. He needed a couple of Alka-Seltzer and sleep. He could have both on the flight to Amsterdam.
A moment later he pushed out of the restroom, strolled through the main lobby and walked out through the entrance of The Michelangelo.
Yellow dawn cast baked watercolor light across the tall buildings and shady streets. No planes fell from the sky. The computers of the world had not Josh Lanyon
9
ground to a halt. The traffic signals continued to blink their messages to the eerily quiet streets.
Noel raised his arm to flag down a cab, and moments later one pulled to the curb, exhaust warming the cold air. From behind smudgy windows, he could hear the muffled blast of Simon and Garfunkel’s “The Only Living Boy in New York.”
He drew a deep breath of cold, dry air scented of exhaust and the salt and chemicals they used to keep the streets ice free—and something uncannily like…expensive urine. The Manhattan cocktail. There was no place on earth that smelled like New York City.
Noel tossed his bags in the cab. No one tried to stop him. No one noticed him at all. It was the first day of the New Year. The first day of the new Millennium.
A new beginning.
So why did it feel like something was ending?
Chapter One
Two days before Christmas—present day
“That went better than I expected.” Elise Bennett locked the doors of Odyssey Books as the final customer departed into the sleety December night.
She glanced back at Noel. “You’re not serious about winding up the Nash Blue series are you?”
Elise was a pretty, forty-something brunette, the former marketing director of a large publishing house. She’d opened her own bookstore and made it a success at a time when indie bookstores everywhere were folding, which said something for both her acumen and her drive.
Noel shrugged into his black cashmere coat. “I think it’s time, don’t you? I’ve had a good run.
Eight books.” Seven books more than he’d ever expected to write—let alone sell.
“I might have agreed with you earlier this evening, but after listening to your fans…although I still don’t know what the ultimate fallout will be from making Nash Blue gay.”
“He was always gay. I finally brought him out of the closet.”
Josh Lanyon
11
“If Nash was always gay, what the heck was he doing bedding all those beautiful women all these years?” Elise pulled down the shades across the double doors and moved to turn off the Christmas lights in the large picture windows.
It was a lovely shop. Gleaming hardwood floors, low and easily accessible shelves that looked like real bookcases, colorful, old time framed posters. It looked like Noel had wanted all bookstores to look when he was a kid. A kid from a family where only
goluboj
—faggots—read books for fun.
“He bedded a few beautiful men too.”
“Yes, but we all believed that was something he had to do to stay alive.”