Readers love CONNIE BAILEY
Moonlight, Tiger, and Smoke
“If you like intrigue, action, paranormal elements in your story, I recommend you give Moonlight a chance. Give Tiger and Smoke a chance. I did and I do not regret it.”
—MM Good Book Reviews
“This is one of the best written ‘stories’ I have come across for an M/M Romance book, emphasis on story. You could remove the sex from this book and still have an amazing, heart-warming, blood pressure rising, lump in your throat read.”
—Pants Off Reviews
True Blue
“Connie Bailey sucks you in from the opening line in True Blue. Both Blue and Heydn are sensational characters cast in a very believable setting.”
—Fallen Angels Reviews Recommended Read
“This is a really sweet, sexy, romantic story…”
—The Yaoi Review
Something for Nothing
“Overall this was a very satisfying book and was an enjoyable read.”
—JeffandWill.com
By CONNIE BAILEY
NOVELS
Human After All
Kaji Sukoshi and the Shining One
Miles To Go
Moonlight, Tiger, and Smoke
Revenant
Something For Nothing
True Blue
Until It’s Time to Go
NOVELLAS
Insert Here
The Raw Prawn
Published by DREAMSPINNER PRESS
http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com
Copyright
Published by
Dreamspinner Press
5032 Capital Circle SW
Ste 2, PMB# 279
Tallahassee, FL 32305-7886
USA
http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com/
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Until It’s Time To Go
Copyright © 2013 by Connie Bailey
Cover Art by Aaron Anderson
[email protected]
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without the written permission of the Publisher, except where permitted by law. To request permission and all other inquiries, contact Dreamspinner Press, 5032 Capital Circle SW, Ste 2, PMB# 279, Tallahassee, FL 32305-7886, USA.
http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com/
ISBN: 978-1-62380-343-8
Digital ISBN: 978-1-62380-344-5
Printed in the United States of America
First Edition
January 2013
For Andrew Grey.
Thanks for the good advice.
Prologue
ISAAC was washing his hair when he felt the temperature of the water change. It was still hot, but he knew how deceptive that perception was. Once it started, the cooling off rate was exponential. He managed to get all of the shampoo out before the shower went cold, but he hadn’t shaved yet. As he stepped out of the tub, he snatched a towel from the rack. Wrapping it around his waist, he stalked into the bedroom.
Steve turned from the mirror. “Hey, sunshine,” he said as he zipped up his hooded jacket. “You’re dripping water on the carpet.”
“Don’t you dare lecture me. Who used all the hot water?”
“Surely you don’t think it was me.” Steve sat to lace up his running shoes, glancing up at Isaac from under his lashes. “It must have been another devastatingly handsome man from your vast harem of ex-actors.”
Isaac held on to his anger despite how attractive his fiancé was with the morning light kindling in his dark-blond hair and highlighting the laugh lines around his bright-blue eyes. The man had a classic camera-friendly smile that Isaac had tried mightily to resist when they’d met six years ago. He’d sworn he’d never date an actor, and now look at him. He was wrapped around Steve’s finger like the ring he planned to place there very soon, but that didn’t mean he’d stand for selfishness.
“How many times have we had this discussion? You know exactly how long you can stay in the shower before half the hot water is gone, yet you continue to hog at least three-quarters of it. How is that fair, Stephen?”
“Yikes! You called me Stephen. I thought this was about some silly little thing like hot water, but I guess it’s serious.”
“Don’t belittle me.”
“All right, I’m sorry.” Steve stood and bent to touch his toes. “Mind if I stretch while you talk?”
Isaac stared at the perfect hemispheres of Steve’s ass in Isaac’s favorite pair of nylon shorts. He could see the lines of the jock strap indenting Steve’s skin. Abruptly, his mind was engaged in running various scenarios that might end in a quickie before he left for work. The thought of work reminded him of why he was mad. “Damn it! I have a legitimate complaint here. I have a meeting this morning, and I now I can’t shave.”
“Use the electric shaver you got last Christmas.”
“That’s not a shaver. It’s a torture device. It yanks the hair out.”
“Give the water heater a half hour, and you’ll have enough hot water to shave. If that takes too long, I’ll put the kettle on before I go out, and you’ll have hot water in a few minutes.” Steve rose from a lunge and walked over to Isaac. “Don’t be such a drama queen,” he said, giving Isaac a mock slap. “And I like the way you look when you don’t shave.”
Isaac drew back when Steve tried to kiss him. “I hate it when you do this.”
“What am I doing?”
“You’re acting like I’m pouting over nothing.”
“You’re cute when you pout.”
“Damn it! I’m sick and tired of being treated like a spoiled brat. I have a meeting with the director this morning—the director, not some flunky.”
“That’s great, right? It means you got the job.”
“Probably. Almost certainly… but that doesn’t mean I shouldn’t look sharp for the meeting.”
“You writers are worse than actors.” Steve shook his head. “I’m going for my run.”
“I can’t believe you’re just brushing me off,” Isaac said, stopping Steve in the doorway. “This meeting is important to me, and you knew that. I went on and on about it at dinner last night. And yet you chose to get up and shower before your run and use all the hot water like an inconsiderate jerk-off. Do you even give a fuck?”
“Jesus Christ, I’m sorry! I wasn’t thinking.”
“Right. Because you’re just not too good at that, are you?” Isaac knew he should stop talking now, but he couldn’t seem to shut up. “You might have walked away from Hollywood, but I haven’t. I guess my mistake was thinking that, just because you claim to love me, you might give a shit about the things that matter to me.”
“You know I care. You’re just stressed out and acting crazy. Relax. You’re a hot shit screenwriter, and you’re going to be working with a hot shit director. So stop freaking out.”
“Do you have any idea how condescending you sound?”
“Apparently not. I’m going now. I’ll put the kettle on.”
“Asshole!” Isaac shouted as Steve walked out the bedroom door. He stood listening as Steve went down the stairs and began moving around in the kitchen. “Unbelievable,” he said under his breath as Steve literally whistled while he worked. Ever since Steve had quit a very popular cop show in the middle of its third season, he’d been so happy that it was actually irritating. Isaac hea
rd the front door close and the crunch of Steve’s sneakers on the gravel driveway. It was a half mile to the end of their drive and then a seven-mile loop of paved road around the Laurel Canyon neighborhood. Steve ran it every morning, and he was in fantastic shape.
“You should run with him,” Isaac said to his reflection as he threw his towel on the bed. Avoiding the full-length mirror, he took the carefully chosen clothes from the closet. Taking his time, he moisturized, deodorized, and patted on some cologne before he dressed. The new jeans were a British brand he’d seen the director wearing, and the shirt was his lucky pink oxford. He’d worn it at every successful interview, and he wasn’t going to start taking chances now that his career was taking off. The plain black designer sports jacket showed he had style but wasn’t a slave to fads. It had cost most of a royalty check two years ago but was well worth the investment. Feeling more confident now that he was suited up, he looked in the mirror. He wished he had Steve’s toned physique, but his lean lankiness suited these clothes, and Steve was right about the unshaven look. The dark whiskers looked right with his unruly mop of black hair. Now that he was thirty-five, his hair was showing a few splinters of silver, just enough to project an air of maturity. “Not too shabby,” he said, giving his reflection a wink.
After going downstairs, he took his cowboy boots out of the hall closet and set them by the door. The kettle called him to the kitchen, and he turned off the stove while fetching a teacup down from the overhead cabinet. He reached for the tea canister and saw the sticky note on the lid.
“Don’t forget our godsons coming over tonight. Love you’re bones. Steve,” Isaac read aloud. He tried to ignore the punctuation mistakes, but the flagrant your/you’re violation was too much. “I’m engaged to an ape,” he told the brewing tea. “In three weeks, I’ll be married to an ape,” he said as he tossed the bag in the trash. “An inconsiderate ape.” He let the trash bin lid slam down. “An inconsiderate ape who loves me in spite of my pettiness.” Isaac smiled as he blew on the surface of the tea. “Probably the only male in creation that could put up with me, God love him.”
Isaac took out his cell phone to call Steve and apologize to him, and it rang in his hand. “Isaac Zevin,” he said as he answered.
“Isaac, it’s Dina, Dina Meier.”
“Hi, Dina. Sorry I didn’t recognize your number right away.” Dina was the early-thirties soccer mom two houses down, log and stone split-level on ten acres, hunky hubby, one boy, one girl, one golden retriever. Isaac had a standing order with her for Girl Scout cookies and band candy, and he and Steve had standing invitations to the Meiers’ annual Fourth of July barbecue. The Meiers had never made an issue of the fact that Isaac and Steve were a couple. Their stance was a blithe, genteel, and quite deliberate obliviousness that Isaac could easily live with. “What can I do for you?”
“I’m—I’m at the hospital with Steve.”
“What are you talking about? He just left here two minutes ago.” Isaac glanced at the clock on the stove. It had been over forty minutes since Steve left. “Why are you at the hospital?”
“Oh God, Isaac—” Dina’s voice choked off.
“Dina? What’s going on?”
“Mr. Zevin, this is Callie.” Dina’s twelve-year-old daughter came on the line.
“Is your mom okay?” Isaac asked.
“I don’t think so. Just a minute. The nurse wants to know if you’re a relative.”
“Of who?”
“My mom or Mr. Michaels. They want to give Mom a sedative, but I think they need an adult here to take care of me and Denver. I told them I could watch him but—”
“Callie, where’s your dad?” Isaac interrupted.
“He’s back in Hong Kong.”
“Do you know what’s going on?”
“Mr. Michaels was in an accident.”
“Accident? What kind of accident?”
“I don’t know. We found him on the road, and Mom said we had to take him to the hospital. She wants to talk to you again.”
“Isaac,” Dina said breathlessly. “You should get down here now. Just get in your car. I’ll keep talking to you.”
“Tell me exactly what happened,” Isaac said as he shoved his feet into his boots. He snatched his keys off the foyer table and left the house at a trot.
“I was taking the kids to school, and we went the long way around the loop so we could look for deer. I saw something on the side of the road, and I guess I thought someone had thrown out some old clothes or something. I started to get annoyed, and then I realized it was a person and stopped the car. When I saw it was Steve, I nearly vomited. I know I should have called 911, but I was in shock, according to the ER nurse. All I could think of was getting him in the back of the Jeep and getting him to a hospital. I still don’t know how I did it. I guess it’s like those stories you hear of women lifting cars off their babies.”
Isaac started his leased BMW. “How bad is he?”
“The doctors haven’t told me anything.”
“Did it look like he was hit by a car, or what?”
“I’ve never seen anyone who’s been hit by a car except in the movies.” Dina paused. “I guess he did look like a car hit him.”
“I’m on the highway now, so I’m hanging up. Be there soon.”
The closest hospital was ten minutes away. Isaac was there in half that time. He was grateful to find an emergency room staff that didn’t give him any crap about not being a family member when he explained that he and Steve were engaged. He was shown to a waiting room and told someone would be in to talk to him soon.
“Hi, Mr. Zevin,” Callie Meier said, standing up as Isaac entered the waiting room. She seemed calm, but her face was pale and pinched-looking. “My mom took Denver to the bathroom. He’s old enough to go by himself, but he only likes to go at home.”
“Maybe you can go home now that I’m here.”
“Whatever. At least I’m not in school.”
“Callie!” Dina Meier appeared in the doorway, her pink T-shirt stained with drying blood. “Take Denver down to the snack machine. You can share a soda and some chips.” She dug her wallet from her bag and gave Callie a handful of one-dollar bills. “Isaac, I’m so sorry,” she said as Callie herded Denver back into the hall. “Has anyone spoken with you yet?”
Isaac shook his head as Dina took his hand. Her fingers were thin and cold, and he had to stop his brain from spinning off into images of Death’s icy grip and other ominous clichés. “Have you heard anything new?”
“I told you everything I know on the phone. I haven’t heard anything since a nurse told me Steve was going into surgery.”
The ball of ice in Isaac’s stomach began to churn. “Surgery?”
“Mr. Zevin?” a nurse said from the doorway. “Would you come with me, please?”
“Of course.” Isaac squeezed Dina’s hand. “There’s no need for you to stay. I’ll call you as soon as I know anything.”
“I’d feel just awful leaving you here all alone.”
“You have to think about Callie and Denver. This is no place for them.” Isaac watched her eyes and saw the exact moment that she made her decision. He didn’t blame her for feeling relieved that she had an excuse to get away. He’d stood where she was standing and had felt the same way.
“If you’re sure….” Dina’s voice trailed off, giving Isaac one more chance to ask for her help.
“I’m sure. I don’t how to thank you for helping Steve.” He squeezed her hand again. “I should go with the nurse.”
Isaac and the nurse passed Callie and Denver at the vending machines. The children were bickering over which chips they should buy, and Callie was wielding the full weight of big sisterly authority. Eight-year-old Denver threatened to tell Mom on her, and then Isaac was past them, following the nurse’s silent tread.
“Bye, Mr. Zevin,” Callie called out. “I hope Mr. Michaels gets better soon.”
Isaac waved to her over his shoulder and kept walking.
“Excuse me, ma’am,” he said to the nurse. “Where are we going?”
“I’m taking you to the doctor’s office so you can talk in private.”
“I guess there are probably some forms I need to sign. Stuff like that.”
“The doctor will explain everything.” The nurse picked up the pace. “We’re almost there.”
Isaac was shown into a small office with metal and plastic furnishings, far from the plush surroundings he imagined when someone said “doctor’s office.” The woman behind the enormous L-shaped desk stood as he came in.
“Mr. Zevin, I’m Dr. Seguin. Would you like to have a seat? Some coffee or water?”
“I’d just like to know what’s going on with Steve.”
“Of course. Thank you, nurse.”
When the nurse had gone, the doctor picked up a chart from the desk and set it back down. “This is the hardest part of my job,” she said.
“No.” Isaac held up a hand. “Do not tell me that Steve’s dead.”
“I’m afraid Mr. Michaels’s injuries were very severe. He had no vital signs when he was brought in, but we managed to resuscitate. In spite of the extreme damage, we made the decision to operate. It was a million-to-one chance that he’d survive, but we—”
“What if paramedics had been at the scene?”
“It wouldn’t have made any difference. The internal organs were badly lacerated. Even if we’d managed to keep him breathing, he would have needed several transplants. I don’t want to go into too much graphic detail, but he would have been facing amputations as well.”
“Don’t spare me. I want to know as much as I can about what happened to him. Can I see him?”
“I don’t recommend it. It won’t do him any good, and you don’t need to see him like that.” Dr. Seguin cleared her throat. “According to the nurses’ notes, you and Mr. Michaels were engaged to be married?”
“The wedding’s in three weeks.” Isaac paused. “Or would have been. Jesus.”
“It’s starting to hit you. Take a minute and take a few deep breaths.”
“I just don’t see how this is possible. How is it that I’m sitting on a crappy molded plastic chair talking to someone I don’t know about Steve being dead?”
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