by Cindy Dees
“Maybe. But not definitely. After all, Jack is a sitting senator. The onus is not on him to prove these crazy allegations by a scum-bucket paparazzo.”
Christian sighed. “Sadly, the public is more inclined to believe a salacious accusation from the media than it is the word of an elected public official.”
He supposed he couldn’t blame the public on that one. “But what if I go back to looking a lot more like myself and much less like Jack?” He warmed to the idea the more he thought about it. “I haven’t shaved today. If I don’t shave tomorrow, I’ll have a good stubble going. I’ll wear my own clothes. I can get you a bunch of official photos from my military days. Wild Cards, Inc. can verify that I work for them. I’ve got an official résumé picture on file with them too.”
Jill nodded slowly as Christian murmured thoughtfully, “It could work. But it would make a casino-night appearance by you doubly risky. People would be checking to see if Jack was actually Jack or not.”
“One crisis at a time,” Stone retorted.
Tucker piped up. “If the would-be killer thinks we’ve duped him or her, that person could come after Jack—well, you—with a vengeance. Your profilers said the stalker could be volatile and prone to violent outbursts, remember? Recognition wouldn’t be your main problem at the fundraiser. Staying alive would be the real challenge.”
Stone shrugged. “We can deal with that when the time comes. I’m not entirely inexperienced with high-threat situations.” He continued persuasively, “At this point I don’t give a crap for Jack’s reputation—no offense, Mrs. Lacey.”
She snorted like a mad elephant about to trample him.
He continued, “I’m primarily concerned with protecting your good name and Christian’s professional reputation. The two of you need to come out of this with the ability to do the work you are committed to. You just have to buy me one lousy day to get scruffy, Christian. I’ll do the rest.”
Of course, the six-hundred-pound gorilla in the corner was that by him and Christian publicly admitting to being lovers, it blew any chance Christian would ever have of keeping his private life private and separate from his professional life.
There was coming out and then there was coming out. A press conference on national television couldn’t get a whole lot more high profile.
Jill looked back and forth between him and Christian. “I say we do it. As much as I… dislike… my philanderer of a husband, I’m not giving up my charities if I don’t absolutely have to.”
He winced. She obviously didn’t have any idea how abhorrent it would be to Christian to parade his personal relationship all over the media.
The brittle quality clung to Christian more than ever, but as Stone looked at him questioningly, Christian met his gaze grimly and nodded once. “Agreed. Stone and I go public.”
He tried to catch Christian’s gaze again, to offer him silent support and sympathy, but Christian was having none of it and instead turned away to stare down at his laptop.
Even from across the room, Stone could feel Christian silently shattering into a million pieces. And something painful in his own chest ached in response, as if shards of Christian’s splintered dignity were stabbing him too. And there wasn’t a damned thing he could do about it.
The deadline for Jill Lacey to buy the photographs from the scumbag came and went.
Ominously, the phone stayed silent. No last-minute pleas for cash came from the photographer, so they could only assume the greedy little worm was now engaged in a bidding war with the tabloids for his pictures of Christian and Senator Lacey making out on the beach.
The dinner hour approached. “Anytime now,” Christian murmured. “The phone’s going to start ringing, and it won’t stop until we put you in front of the press, Stone.”
Stone said quietly, “If it’s any consolation, I think you’ve got the right of it. Once this story breaks, it’ll smoke out Jack. I can absolutely see him prancing out in front of reporters with Chesty on his arm to refute accusations of being gay.”
“Oh, Lord. I hadn’t even thought of that. At all costs he cannot be seen with that woman. Then Jill will have to divorce him immediately, and everything we’ve done to protect her will be for nothing.”
Fuck. He hadn’t thought of it that way. “Have you considered sending Tucker down to Barbados to meet the Wrastle Castle when it docks and stop Jack from committing career hara-kiri? Travis could make sure he’s not seen with Chesty. Heck, he could plant a story that other people were on the boat. Maybe a single guy who’d claim to have been Chesty’s date?”
“Yes, but if you have to go through with the casino fundraiser, we’ll need Tucker here. If he’s in Barbados, you’d be even more exposed to Jack’s stalker. You heard what Tucker said earlier. The stalker’s going to be royally pissed off at having been duped.” Christian added strongly, “I won’t leave you unprotected like that.”
An entirely unfamiliar feeling seeped into his awareness. It was fuzzy. And warm. All cuddly and soft and—
And nauseating, dammit. Totally nauseating. Yeah, that was it. Good Lord. He didn’t do warm and fuzzy.
Aww, who was he trying to kid? He totally loved feeling warm and fuzzy where Christian was concerned.
But only Christian.
His machismo restored, he said firmly, “In the first place, it’s my job to take risks. In the second place, I’m very good at what I do. I know how to stay out of an assassin’s sights.”
“You’re asking me to bet your life on it,” Christian responded in what sounded like desperation.
“Indeed I am. Do you trust me?”
They exchanged a long look. Christian still looked doubtful, and Stone did everything he could to inject reassuring vibes into his gaze as he murmured, “I’m just trying to look out for the people I care about. Please let me do that.”
Christian swore under his breath. “And you say I’m good at managing people. Ha! Bastard.”
“I’ll go tell Tucker to pack a bag and jump the first flight to Barbados.”
“Impress on him how vital it is that Jack not be seen by anyone with Chesty.”
“Got it!” Stone called over his shoulder as he went in search of Tucker.
THE FIRST phone call came at precisely 6:00 p.m. Christian moved over to take the call. And so it begins.
He picked up the receiver, but before he could say hello, a female voice screeched in his ear, “What the hell is that rat bastard doing? If he thinks he can get out of his promise to marry me before the end of this year, he can freaking forget it!”
“Valerie?” Christian guessed. What was this about Jack promising to marry her in the next several months? This was the first he’d heard of it. God knew, it would be career suicide to divorce his popular wife in the middle of a campaign for reelection.
But then, this afternoon was the first he’d heard of Jack asking his wife for a divorce too. That one made sense now. Jack needed out of his forty-year marriage to tie the knot with his mistress.
“Damn straight it’s me. I wanna talk with him right this minute. Put him on the line.”
“I’m sorry, ma’am. I can’t do that—”
“Don’t give me the runaround. I’m in no mood. No mood, I tell you. I’ve got half a mind to call my father and have him send his boys to break one of Jack’s kneecaps. No, make that both kneecaps!”
“If you don’t mind my asking, what’s he done to upset you?”
“He kissed a man! On TV! As if anyone who’s ever met him will believe Jack Lacey’s gay! That’s a hell of a way to dodge marrying me….” She devolved into swearing colorful enough to actually make Christian blush.
“There’s been a misunderstanding, Ms. Micklethwaite. Jack was not on any beach today. Whoever took this alleged video, or whatever it is, has mistakenly identified the person in the picture. I guarantee you Jack did not kiss anyone on any beach today.” At least not in Miami, he added silently.
Valerie was silent for a moment. “He’s not trying to dodge m
arrying me?”
“I’m sure I wouldn’t know anything about that, ma’am.”
“He didn’t kiss a guy?”
“No, ma’am.”
“He still loves me?”
“Umm, as far as I know, his feelings haven’t changed.” Which was to say he had no idea what Jack’s feelings were about any woman. He was still processing his shock that the man had asked Jill for a divorce. He’d honestly thought Jack was too afraid of his wife to actually go there.
“Oh.” A pause. “I still want to talk to him.”
“I’m so sorry. He’s not here.”
“You’re lying!” Her voice rose toward a screech quickly.
“I give you my word of honor that he is not here and not avoiding speaking with you.”
“He’d better not be. I’d hate to have to kill him. But I would if he dumped me.”
“I can believe it, ma’am,” he replied carefully. Damn. Death threats from his wife and his mistress in under two hours. Jack was having a hell of a bad day, and he didn’t even know it.
Nope, he’d left Christian behind to clean up this mess and take the hits for him. Hell, if he weren’t such a good guy, he’d be seriously considering putting arsenic in the senator’s coffee.
Valerie hung up without saying goodbye. Jack had said before that she had a hot temper, but yikes. He silently wished Jack good luck and Godspeed with all that drama.
He didn’t get a chance to set the receiver down before the phone rang again. This time it was a journalist, and he launched into the prepared response.
Once all the major networks he cared about had checked in with him, he stopped answering the phone. The smaller outlets and gossip publications could pick up the story or not from the big news agencies as they saw fit.
One phone call would no sooner be transferred over to voicemail than the damned thing would start ringing again. It made Christian want to scream. Every ring shouted at him of his betrayal of his employer, of his principles, of a lifetime of class and privacy.
He passionately hated having to expose himself to the world like this. If only he and Stone were really a couple in every sense of the word. Then, this mess could be bearable. He would walk through fire for Stone if Stone would agree to a real relationship and not just a hot fling for as long as this gig lasted.
In real danger of losing his mind, he resorted to turning off the ringers of every phone in the suite. Even his cell phone was exploding. He really didn’t want to take those calls because they would be from friends. Possibly even family. Oh, God. He was going to be ill.
Burying his head in the sand wasn’t going to change anything. Manning up, he forced himself to sit in front of the television and turn on the evening celebrity gossip programs.
The press was all over this story. The glee was palpable as commentators made arch comments at the conservative senator from Texas being exposed as gay. In their defense, he had to admit the hypocrisy of it was too rich for the media not to react exactly that way.
Not to mention that reporters loved nothing better than bringing down a rich and powerful public figure, particularly one who’d consistently been an asshole to them over the years. They might be going after Jack, but he was caught squarely in the crossfire whether he liked it or not.
Christian drove Tucker to the airport but didn’t get out of the SUV lest someone recognize him and shove a cell phone camera in his face. When he got back to the hotel, he was touched to discover that Stone had arranged for hotel security guards to meet him at the loading dock, park the SUV for him, and escort him in a service elevator to the suite.
It was a bizarre sensation being the man in the media’s bull’s-eye. That had always been Jack’s job. Christian had been the invisible aide standing in the shadows, well clear of the spotlight. And then Stone had been the guy at the podium, getting all the attention.
No wonder both of them had freaked out in their own ways—Jack by running off with a woman, and Stone by just running. He couldn’t entirely blame either one of them for needing an escape. It was a suffocating sensation to always be looking over one’s shoulder, trying to spot one’s watchers.
He made it back to the suite, and Stone wrapped him up in a hard hug as soon as the door closed behind him.
“Jill?” he managed to gasp past the rib-crushing embrace.
“Spa,” Stone muttered into the side of his neck. “God, I’ve been waiting all day to get you alone so I could apologize to you. I should have listened. You warned me the press was everywhere, but I didn’t believe you. This is all my fault.”
“What’s done is done, Stone. Don’t beat yourself up over it. You have to let go of it and move on. I’m going to need your undivided attention tomorrow. You’ll have to do exactly what I tell you—”
The doorknob rattled, and he and Stone leaped back from each other as Jill returned to the suite. He lifted a bag of complimentary beauty supplies out of her hand and hustled it back to the master bathroom. It had been decided that Stone would move back to his own room since he was supposed to be himself again. They would all pretend Jack was spending time alone with his wife in the suite after the big scare at the gala with the helicopter crash.
When Christian returned to the living room, Stone was gone. He cursed silently. He hated every second they had to be apart. Which was to say, he had it bad for the guy.
“I like him,” Jill commented shrewdly.
“Who? Stone?”
“Of course, Stone. You’ve fallen hard for him, haven’t you?”
“What makes you say that?” he asked cautiously.
“For one thing, those pictures that got shoved under my nose. That’s as hot a kiss as I’ve seen between any two people in a long time. And my dear boy, you positively glow when you’re around him. I’ve never seen you happier.”
He didn’t have the heart to tell her that she was merely seeing the absence of misery because he wasn’t having to deal with her husband 24-7.
“Go on. Get out of here already,” she ordered him.
“I beg your pardon?”
“The story is that the two of you are lovers. So, go be lovers. If you made that poor man live out your cover story and be my husband for three days, the least you owe him is to live out his cover story for a couple of days.”
A smile broke across his face, and he couldn’t stop grinning like a love-struck idiot no matter how hard he tried. “Call me if you need anything, ma’am.”
“I’m sure Jack and I will be fine in the suite by ourselves. I may need one of you to come down and eat the breakfast in bed that the two of us are going to order in the morning, though.”
“Call me before you do that. We’ll have Stone come down and make a brief appearance as Jack so the hotel staff can verify that Jack’s in the suite with you.”
“An excellent idea. That’s why you’re the best staffer on Capitol Hill, Christian,” she said warmly. “I’m going to miss you when you get that fancy job over at the Justice Department.”
He stared. “How do you know about that?”
“I heard you talking about it once on the phone. I always did wonder why a man like you, who disagrees with my husband on so many issues, agreed to work for him. I admire your commitment to your cause. It’s a lot to put up with Jack Lacey for years to get to your goal.”
“Thank you, ma’am.”
“Scoot. That handsome young man is waiting for you.”
He ducked his head and then all but ran down to Stone’s room. He slipped into the suite and into Stone’s arms with profound relief.
Stone was already looking more like Stone again. A five o’clock shadow darkened his square jaw, and the T-shirt that clung to his prodigious biceps was pure badass. Even the close, European cut of his black jeans screamed of a soldier or security type and not a middle-aged politician.
And that fire in his eyes. Oh no. There was no sign of Jack Lacey in this man.
He breathed, “I need you to be the soldier tonight. No
civilization. No nice manners. I don’t want there to be any confusion as to who I’m in bed with. Erase all memory of Jack Lacey from my mind.”
“Jack who?”
They traded grins.
Chapter Thirteen
STONE WOKE up slowly, splayed out on his belly, a little hungover. There’d been a fair bit of Jack Daniels involved with last night’s delicious depravity. He’d fantasized about letting loose with Christian, but he’d never dreamed the man would actually revel in it. They were both fit enough and strong enough that they couldn’t really hurt each other if they turned their bodies loose on each other with complete abandon.
As it was, he was stiff and sore in places he wasn’t accustomed to feeling discomfort. And it felt fantastic.
“You awake?” Christian murmured in a deep voice from over his back. He was sprawled like a weighted blanket over him.
“No,” he replied. “I’m still unconscious. I think I’m still a little drunk.”
“Good. You up for a little more?”
“I can’t move.”
“I don’t need you to move. I need you to relax and do what I tell you to.”
That moved him considerably further along the scale to full consciousness. “What do you have in mind?”
“Does it matter?”
A chuckle rumbled in his chest. “Fair point, well made. I’m up for anything you can imagine.”
“Including bottoming for me?”
“For you, anything.” Particularly when it included those big strong hands kneading at his shoulders and then working their way slowly down his back, massaging out every last kink and knot, leaving him a boneless mass half melted into the mattress.
Christian had him lift his hips and slid a pile of pillows under them. He nudged Stone’s thighs apart and knelt between them. Stone’s languor dissipated sharply as he realized Christian was serious about taking him this way. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d bottomed.
Tension claimed him, but then the lingering aftereffects of the whiskey and Christian resuming the druggingly wonderful massage combined to lull him back into a state of deep relaxation.
