Three Hearts Beat as One (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting)

by Karen Mercury

  Phew. No doubt Ben would presume the truth—that she’d bolted to avoid seeing him and Brittney again. How much pain could one asshole possibly cause her? She’d been so painfully, thoroughly in love with Ben! Of course she had—she wasn’t in the habit of marrying any old dirtbag!

  “Well, apparently I am in the habit of marrying any old dirtbag,” she whispered, gripping the sink as though about to puke. How can I allow someone else to have such control over my emotions, over my life? But wasn’t “learning how to control one’s emotions” an oxymoron?

  Would she have to keep slipping out the back door for years to come whenever she saw Ben strutting down London Street, with or without anyone named Brittney, Ashlee, or Madison. It had taken her all of one date to fall in love with Ben Pearson—why did it have to take months to fall out of love again?

  Maybe there was something to Katrina’s rebound theory. A guy didn’t have to be the best thing since indoor plumbing simply in order to have a date with him. She could surely survive one date with that California Highway Patrol douche, even if he did take her to his ex-wife’s cat show. Bob Sampson was clearly still hung up on his ex-wife. They could at least bond over that.

  A few rebound dates would put a buffer between real, current life and Lacey’s outdated, romantic memories of Ben. At least it would give her some fresh memories to occupy her thoughts. Even if the new memories turned out to be distasteful. Hell, rebound dates might give her something to laugh about, at the very least.

  There. I feel better. Surely Ben had sat down at his own table by now. Lacey took several deep breaths to assure herself she wouldn’t burst into sobs. She didn’t want to splash her face for fear it’d make her look puffy, so she just dabbed at the bags under her eyes with toilet paper and barged on out the door.

  And promptly slammed into a heavily muscled male body.

  Just by that alone, she knew it wasn’t Ben. Ben was too lazy to work out, too hedonistic, too dead set on partying. No, the slab of male body that literally took her breath away was a fellow who placed working out as a priority in his life, maybe even an occupation.

  Lacey looked up into glittery arctic blue eyes filled with good-natured humor. The guy held her steady by gripping her upper arms, and he held on just a few split seconds too long to be polite.

  “Oh! I’m sorry,” said Lacey and made as if to sidestep the buff guy. But his arms were like steel I-beams that wouldn’t allow her to move, and she gave him a second glance. He had a military buzz cut and even looked young enough to have just gotten out of the armed forces. At any rate, he was definitely at least three years younger than her—three years might’ve been three decades for all the good that did. “Oh, God. I know you. You work at Positive Vibrations.” Yes. She’d seen this stunning gay guy swaggering in and out of the sex toy store a couple blocks down from Delight Hardware, and it struck her he must’ve been one half of the gay couple Katrina had just mentioned.

  “Own Positive Vibrations,” he corrected her.

  “That’s funny,” said Lacey, already feeling lighter of mood, “I was just thinking about flavored condoms not thirty seconds ago.”

  “Oh?” He quirked a skeptical eyebrow at her. “You often think of those?”

  “Not really,” Lacey giggled, genuinely amused now. “That’s what makes it so funny.” Feeling awkward again, she made another motion to leave. “I’ll see you around.”

  The dazzling gay guy said, “You work in the hardware store, right? Stop on into Positive Vibrations. I’ll give you a fellow merchant’s discount.”

  He had removed his hands from her biceps, but Lacey still felt oddly cement-footed. She realized that she really didn’t want to leave this guy’s presence. He had a comforting, cheerful vibe that rubbed off favorably on her. Chemistry. “Thank you, but I never really have reason to go into a store like that. Oh. I didn’t mean ‘like that’ like that. I just meant that I never have any use for…” She trailed off like an idiot.

  When he grinned, two dimples appeared in his cheeks. “Come in anyway. There’s something for everyone in there. And it’s not as awkward or embarrassing as you’d imagine. There are items for single people as well as couples.”

  Normally Lacey would have wanted to sink into a hole in the floor with mortification that a strange man was blatantly suggesting she needed to update her ten-year-old vibrator collection. But for some reason, this guy put her at ease. He was probably accustomed to that, handling lifelike dildos all day long. She nodded, cheerful again. “Okay. I’ll stop in.”

  Free of the stranger’s calming presence, Lacey really did have a new outlook as she slid into her chair opposite Katrina. Katrina started to say, “Oh God, now that was uncomfortable. Right after you ran out, Ben and that bimbo came to this table and—”

  “Katrina,” Lacey said breathlessly, “I just met one of those two gorgeous gay guys in the hallway. He invited me into his store—Positive Vibrations.”

  Katrina’s eyes went round with awe. “Chase Moran works there? I’ve seen him going in and out of that store, but I’ve never gone in. Marco isn’t really the marital aid sort.”

  Lacey didn’t want to ruin her good mood by hearing “Marco” and “marital aids” in the same sentence. “Katrina, you were right. He’s absolutely gorgeous. I’m practically buzzing with chemistry after just standing next to him!”

  Katrina failed to be impressed. “But he’s gay,” she said flatly.

  “So what? I was just now thinking that maybe I do need a rebound guy, just to give me someone else to think about other than Ben. Makes sense, right? Well, why not have a few gay men to boost my morale? What’s wrong with women who like to hang around gay men for whatever reason?”

  “Because they like the same music, clothing, and performers?” Katrina shrugged. “Sure, why not? I think his cowboy boyfriend performs sometimes at the Pit o’ Dummies, too. Some country and western band.”

  Maybe it would take a couple of gay men to show Lacey all men weren’t sleazy dirtbags. It would be a start, anyway, in trusting the entire male sex again. “Country and western music could be all right.” Lacey swiveled to view the cowboy boyfriend.

  Oh. Dear. Lord.

  He stared directly at her. He sat low in his chair, one long arm dangling, knuckles nearly scraping the cement floor. This meant his hips were thrust forward, displaying the nicely-packed crotch of his 501 jeans. His long legs were stretched out before him, the expected cowboy boots crossed at the ankles, and it seemed to take forever for Lacey to focus her gaze on his face.

  When she did, her heart nearly stopped.

  This one had finely sculpted, classically Roman features. The nostrils of his strong, aquiline nose flared arrogantly. He had the permanent squint of someone who worked outdoors, and his thick brunet hair was carelessly cut into a spiky pattern that gave him a dangerous, bad boy look. This one was arguably even more gorgeous than Chase Moran. He was about ten years older than Chase—more Lacey’s speed.

  Maybe this being-a-beard business wouldn’t be so easy after all. Not if it meant being hopelessly attracted to men she could never have. Swallowing hard, Lacey ventured, “Let’s go into Positive Vibrations tomorrow and make his acquaintance.”

  “Don’t forget the merchant’s auction,” Katrina said dully. “That’s tomorrow at seven.”

  If Lacey’s mood had been tenuous, it was all but ruined now.

  * * * *

  “It’s your Kate Winslet girl!” Chase told his partner breathlessly as he scooted his ass back into his chair. “A Budweiser,” he told the waiter irritably. He didn’t even like Bud, but he wanted the waiter to go away. “I tell you, she’s divorced from that idiotic party boy Ben Pearson. She works at Delight Hardware, and the reason you’ve never seen her with Ben is that they’re divorced now. Well? You yourself said you pictured her on horseback. We can make your Lady Godiva dreams come true. I like that she seems relatively innocent and sort of unsullied, in a way. We can train her, mold her to our particula
r brand of passion. There, she just sat back down at her table with Katrina Abramson.”

  “Who’s Katrina Abramson?” muttered Devin, but Chase could tell he’d hooked the horny bastard. Devin spent many long moments examining his Kate Winslet look-alike. His pupils dilated with pleasure as he all but drank her in—her “well-rounded” and “feminine” form. She had the long, curly, highlighted strawberry-blonde hair of one of Kate Winslet’s phases, and Chase couldn’t agree more. The hardware woman, Lacey Dvorak, was a sheer feminine delight, with long lashes that had batted flirtatiously at him—though she, like most townsfolk, probably assumed he was gay.

  It was an understandable assumption. Chase ran a sex-themed store, an automatic red flag for most conventionally-minded people. Naturally, anyone interested in cock rings, harnesses, and butt plugs had to be gay. Cowboys had also grown to have a gay connotation after that film several years ago. Finally, lifting weights and wearing skin-tight jeans probably didn’t dissuade anyone from assuming the two men were gay. Oh, and the fact that they lived together out at Devin’s Hardscrabble Ranch. And they often slid their tongues down each other’s throats.

  But aside from those items, there was no reason for anyone to assume they were gay. “I invited her into my store, Devin. At first she resisted, said she didn’t have any reason to come to a store like mine. But once I reminded her that single women can enjoy a good vibrator just as much as—”

  At last Devin whipped his torso back to confront his lover. “You fucking didn’t,” he said, his eyes flashing with warning.

  Chase grinned. “Why not? You don’t meet anyone by waiting for them to come to you. You and I never would’ve hooked up if you hadn’t asked me to dance after one of your Pit shows.”

  Devin jutted out his lower jaw. He was simply beautiful at the worst of times, but when he pretended to be angry he was absolutely mouth-watering. Chase had no idea why Devin was so insecure. The eyes of men and women alike followed him wherever he went. It was probably for the best that Devin seemed to be unaware of his own beauty. Vanity was not an attractive trait. Chase wasn’t vain. He was secure in his looks, that was all. But why was Devin so insecure? One or some of those women who had come before Chase must’ve done a number on Devin’s ego.

  “I asked you to dance because I had no choice! I had to get to you before that line of twenty other guys did!” Devin looked around self-consciously then lowered his voice. “Even the straight guys were drooling over you, and the moment you broke up with that other dickhead, the whole Twittersphere or whatever it’s called was buzzing with the news.”

  “Yeah, and you took the plunge,” Chase pointed out. “That proves my point. Sometimes you’ve got to stick it out to get anywhere.”

  Devin’s features softened. “Yeah. Like you stuck it out when we danced.” His fingers inched across the table toward Chase’s hand, but didn’t dare touch. Devin knew that Chase strove to maintain somewhat of a middle-of-the-road image in the business community.

  But conversation was so lively in the new booming restaurant, no one could hear them talk. “Yeah. You were the hottest fucking cowboy I’d ever laid eyes on. I nearly came in my pants grinding against you.”

  Chase loved the sexy, dreamy look in Devin’s eyes. But they quickly clouded over. “Hottest fucking gay cowboy in your life. Remember, Chase. You’ve only fucked a few women, way back in the early part of the century. You call yourself bi, but to my mind, you’re basically gay.”

  “So what?” Chase stuck out his lower lip petulantly. “Even more of a reason why I should want to share you with another woman. Way less chance of me falling in love with her and leaving you.”

  Chase knew that was Devin’s biggest fear. His first-class, buff, luscious, tattooed boyfriend was afraid Chase would leave him. The more this seemed to be true, the more Devin protested it. “Like that’d happen,” Devin bluffed. “I just don’t see any reason to drag a poor unsuspecting female into our perfectly loving relationship. We don’t need a woman, is what I’m saying. We’ve got everything worked out perfectly. We balance each other out. Adding a woman would ruin the fine balance.”

  “I can give you one good reason,” Chase said mischievously. “I’d love to see you get sucked off by someone else, but another guy would drive me wild with jealousy. A woman is safer.”

  “True that. I’d get off just watching you come in a woman’s mouth.”

  Chase pointed. “You said ‘woman.’”

  Devin was beautiful when he blushed. “Did I? Anyway, I thought you were closing your store early tomorrow night. That downtown merchants association gala, remember?”

  “Oh, yeah.” Chase always bid on a few items he didn’t really need because the money went to a good cause. This year the association was installing new energy-efficient lampposts along Jack London Street. Devin had agreed to come to show support. He wasn’t a merchant, but he was a local businessman, and he always gave away a four-day working ranch vacation at his Hardscrabble Ranch. “Anyway. Who’s to say I won’t need some hardware before changing for the gala? I’ll bring my suit to work tomorrow so I don’t have to go home to change.”

  “Hardware, my ass,” Devin said. “I’m telling you, Chase. I don’t need or want Kate Winslet or any other woman. You’re all I need. Besides, we can’t just shop for a woman. Who knows what she wants? It isn’t just up to us. Now drink your damned beer. Why’d you order a Bud, anyway?”

  Chapter Four

  Devin knew he could teach Lacey Dvorak the joys of sex.

  He had exaggerated the truth slightly when he had told Chase that he saw no reason to drag an unsuspecting woman into their relationship. He actually saw plenty of reasons to corral poor Lacey into participating in a naughty ménage with them. But one overwhelming reason not to overrode everything.

  He couldn’t risk losing Chase’s devotion.

  Devin crossed his arms across his chest and leaned on a pillar next to a life-size cutout of some hair-band member. He was in the silent auction section of the Lion’s Club, watching Lacey Dvorak write down a bid on the sheet placed in front of Devin’s offering. His donation was a stay at his Hardscrabble Ranch fifteen miles out of Hell’s Delight. Devin was amused that Lacey was interested in staying at his ranch, making cornbread, lassoing calves, and riding horses just like in his absurd fantasies.

  Did she know who he was? She had given him a long, desirous, melting look at the Senegalese restaurant, but he’d thought that was his imagination. She could have also been staring at Chase’s back. She had just been talking to Chase, and who wouldn’t rather look at the studly Chase than an old cowboy like Devin? Certainly, a gal who worked all day selling drop cloths, bottle brushes, and rat traps could cut loose for a few days on a ranch. And every bid was a benefit to the town. Her bidding probably had nothing to do with him.

  But he certainly liked to imagine it did as he watched her write down a bid. She bent at the waist, leaned her elbows on the table, and studied the photographs of the ranch. The idea that she was nearsighted made her even more vulnerable and appealing. She wore a low-backed gold gown that displayed her softly rounded shoulders and elbows, and Devin was particularly turned on by the contour of her exposed calves as she posed in the heeled sandals. It was almost an old-fashioned lust he felt for her. Aroused by ankles! True, it had been two years since he’d fantasized about a woman’s body. Maybe the novelty was exciting him.

  Then some people who wanted to bid on the hair-band guitarist’s autographed Stratocaster got in the way and Devin couldn’t see Lacey anymore. He practically shoved the heavy metal enthusiasts out of his way in his race to the bid sheet. Had she actually bid? She must know he was the Hardscrabble owner—his stupid photograph was right there glued to some cardboard, smiling asininely while standing next to some horses.

  “Devin Jonas!”

  Fuck. Jared Alessi, the annoying and often combative mayor of Hell’s Delight, barred Devin’s way. Jared held the bid pen poised as though about to outbid Lace
y, and Devin had to prevent this at all costs. Devin side-stepped around the mayor as though waltzing. “Mayor Alessi. Did you see that old Miwok Indian basket up for bid? That should be in a museum, not sold to a private party.”

  Alessi said, “I’m more interested in that great cruise to Mazatlan. But who wants to go to Mexico these days? Even stepping off a cruise ship can get you killed.”

  “Did you see the three-day pass to Heavenly resort? You like to ski, don’t you?” Devin didn’t know or care if the mayor skied. But the auctioneer had called over the PA system that bidders had five minutes left on the silent auction, and that seemed like three minutes ago. Devin had a feeling he could distract Alessi until then.

  “Actually, I have way too much work to ever take a vacation, but your dude ranch offer sounds like the relaxation would be worth it.”

  Crap. In addition to the mayor’s obnoxious interest, two lesbians had stopped to look at the Hardscrabble display. Lesbians had won the past five year’s worth of Hardscrabble auctions. This year, Devin wanted to teach the bountiful Lacey Dvorak a thing or two about ranching. “For relaxation I’d go for one of these spa deals. The Tahoe Mission Inn gives you a glass of good cabernet while you’re getting your shiatsu treatment.”

  Alessi wiggled an eyebrow. Devin frowned. He couldn’t tell what the wiggling signified. Alessi had gotten very emotional last year over some open space bond involving a parcel of Devin’s land. Devin could never tell if the mayor liked him or loathed him, because either way, Alessi became very emotional when dealing with Devin. In public meetings he always wound up yelling and pointing fingers at Devin. “Shiatsu massages are painful, don’t you think? Who wants to be poked and prodded while trying to relax? Don’t they have more of a sort of…” Again with the eyebrow wiggling. “Sensual massage?”