by Viki Lyn
William folded into the chair across from Nate. “Okay, what kind of mumbo jumbo dream did you have now?”
William’s patronizing tone grated on Nate’s nerves. He placed his hands flat on the table and leaned forward. “I know you don’t believe in what I do, but my abilities have been proven. You can be an asshole about it, but you’re going to shut up and hear me out.”
William’s brows lifted. “This is why you’re here? You know how I feel about that kind of superstitious ideology.”
Nate hadn’t expected anything less from William, but his biting cynicism stung. He should walk out that damn door. To hell if William got shot. He deserved it for being such a prick.
Nate sat back and took a deep breath. He unclenched his hands and flexed them to ease his tension. Who was he kidding? He wouldn’t leave until he’d had his say. He cared too much about the asshole.
“Look, I’m here because I dreamed you were shot at a rally. Then I saw an article that you’re speaking this weekend at Golden Gate Park. It’s not something I can ignore.”
“Shot by a maniacal gunman? Very theatrical.”
“Fuck, this isn’t a joke.”
“No, what you do is a joke. I believe in facts, what’s tested and proven. So you had a few lucky guesses in your life. You write a book or two, and suddenly, you’re infallible. Jesus, Nate, no one is out to get me.”
The sound of his name caused lightness in his chest, and he wanted to take William’s hand and hang on tight. “Have you made any enemies lately? Did someone threaten you?”
“You’re the psychic.” William stood and shoved the chair forward. “You tell me.”
“I’m trying to save your sorry ass. Didn’t you hear me? Someone is going to fucking shoot you.”
“Oh, that’s rich.” William waved his hand in agitated circles. “I’m supposed to drop everything and what? Go into hiding? Call the police?”
“Yeah, I know someone at the police department.”
“No way.”
“Please, I’m worried.” And scared shitless that William might die. Their relationship was in the past, but that didn’t make it easier knowing William could be in serious trouble. “At least talk to Detective Connors. I’ll introduce you, explain the situation.”
“With what proof? A silly dream?”
“I’ve helped him on a few cases. We’ve become friends. He’s a decent guy. Up-front and no bullshit. You’d like him.”
William strode over to the exit, unlocked the door, and yanked it open. Glaring at Nate, his frown lines deepened. “I can’t do this. You should know me well enough that I don’t buy into whatever you call what you do.”
Nate tensed. “I’m a psychic counselor.”
“Whatever. It means nothing to me.”
Nate jumped out of his chair and blocked William from leaving, but he had no rebuttal. Instead, he stuffed his business card into William’s shirt pocket. “In case you change your mind.”
Nate’s hand lingered on William’s shirt. The scent of cologne wafted under Nate’s nose, and he unintentionally smiled. Then he chided his silliness for being happy that William still wore the same brand.
Unable to step away, he longed to say something, anything, that would connect him to their past. “I’m sorry how we left things between us.”
A shadow of pain crossed William’s face as he swatted away Nate’s hand. “I believed in us once.”
“But not in my psychic gift, which is part of me.”
“That’s not fair. I loved—” William’s mouth soured. “What the hell am I saying? Don’t come around again.” He sharply turned on his heel and hurried down the hall.
Nate slammed his fist on the doorjamb.
Damn, that hurt.
If the fucker wanted to get killed, it was his business. Not Nate’s. He had done his civic duty and warned him. What did he care? William was a past mistake; that’s why Nate’s heart had pounded and he had babbled like an idiot. Even now, a dull pain anchored in his chest.
He hadn’t expected this intense emotional reaction. It had been that way too when they’d first met. The instant attraction to William had scared the shit out of Nate. He had barely strung two sentences together. He hadn’t been able to resist William – not his intense brown eyes or his dark good looks or that smile that lit William from the inside out. Before he’d known what had hit him, Nate had fallen hard. A forever kind of feeling that had crushed him when it was over.
Nate pushed through the foyer door, berating himself for taking William’s abuse again. He knew he’d obsess over his ex for days; he’d wonder if it would have been possible to salvage their relationship; he’d dissect every action that had happened between them. Somehow, someway, could he have changed William’s prejudice against psychic phenomenon?
Right. Like that would ever happen.
Nate jiggled his car keys in his pocket. No way could he be with a man who didn’t believe in his abilities. Okay, so he’d had a string of broken relationships ever since, but at least his other ex-boyfriends had respected his talent. Not William. William had dismissed him as a nutcase.
Nate slowed, his anger sputtering with every step. No matter how much he tried to leave the past behind, he regretted how their relationship ended. He’d been a coward by walking out without giving William a chance to make amends. Yet, it seemed he had been right to end it. William’s present reaction to Nate’s warning all but proved it. But why did he feel like shit?
William hurried across the foyer, avoiding eye contact with his colleagues. If he didn’t get some fresh air, he’d lose his lunch. When Nate had walked out on their relationship, he had escaped to London and eventually healed his heart. It had been for the best to forgive and forget. But why, then, did he want to smash his fist through a plate glass window after seeing Nate again?
Because he hadn’t forgiven Nate, not by a long shot.
Once outside, he paced in front of the fountain and itched for a cigarette. But he’d stopped smoking months ago, and he wasn’t going to let Nate derail his control. He ran his hand through his hair. He’d miscalculated. When he decided to take the position at SynGen, he’d reasoned the statistical odds of running into Nate would be slight. SynGen was located in Palo Alto, several miles from San Francisco, but not even a year from the date of moving back home, Nate had shown up.
Nate had looked good in his black pants and white shirt, the collar turned up. So much so that William couldn’t help undressing Nate in his mind, even while he wanted to wring his neck. And when Nate had scrunched his nose at him, a habit of his when agitated, William’s chest had tightened from the familiarity. Those blue eyes were still clear, still intelligent, still fucking beautiful. Nate’s best feature, although the total package had given William a jolt to the heart when they’d first met.
William looked down, thankful for his lab coat. He hated how his cock had reacted at seeing his ex again.
Jesus. He had to get a grip on his emotions. Nate had come to warn him of an assassin. How could he take that seriously? No one wanted to kill him. He had no ex-boyfriends lurking in the shadows or disgruntled employees out for revenge. Nate was making a living by exploiting people’s ignorance, but William would be damned if he was one of his gullible victims.
Why couldn’t Nate have remained a graphic designer, a profession William respected? When Nate had gotten a wild hair to become a professional psychic, an oxymoron if he’d ever heard of one, William had pleaded for Nate to reconsider. Nate wouldn’t hear of it; in fact, he’d become insulted. Their arguments had escalated until the inevitable happened, and they had one argument too many.
Why couldn’t Nate have understood that for a scientist of William’s standing to be partnered with a fortune teller would have been detrimental to his profession?
William shook his head at his circular thoughts. That type of thinking wouldn’t solve anything. The fact remained that Nate had made his decision and left him.
He took out Nat
e’s business card and turned it over in his hand. He should rip it up. Toss it in the trash. He really should. Instead, he shoved it back into his pocket.
Chapter Three
NATE WOKE WITH A START. The same nightmare, the same images…and the god-awful smell of blood. His stomach twisted, his heart beating a hundred miles per second. Sweat clung to his T-shirt. He rocked as he caught his breath, dispelling the disturbing images.
He needed something to distract him; the nightmare had left him exhausted in mind and body. So Nate reached for the clock radio and turned to a jazz station, letting the sensual piano chords soothe his tension.
“How the hell am I going to convince William to watch his back?” he muttered, more to himself than to the cat, but Lulu’s head perked up, a smirk on those thin lips.
“Yeah, I know. I’m hopeless.” He scratched Lulu’s chin and smiled as she softly purred. “Yeah, I still care for him. Crazy loco, right?”
Lulu bellowed a sarcastic meow as she snuggled into the pillow. Nate stroked the soft fur. “Okay, okay, you made your point. The asshole never listens to me. I should just forget about him.”
Nate rubbed his stubble. He was turning into one of those pathetic cat people who lived for their pets. He needed to get laid. He should call Derrick; the man liked to fuck, and they were friends of sorts. Nate liked the guy. Sure, it wasn’t love. Derrick didn’t expect that, and neither did Nate, but having a man in his bed would be a nice change from cuddling with his cat.
Nate sighed as he forced himself out of bed. Even after a hot shower and his morning routine of a double espresso, his bleak mood remained. He couldn’t stop thinking of William. Now that he had seen him again, it opened up old wounds and regrets. He’d had good reason to end the relationship, but no matter how many times he reminded himself why he’d left, he still desired William.
At the office, the images of the nightmare persisted. Luckily, he had only one appointment, and it had been changed until later in the evening. If he was going to be any help to his client, he needed to stop waffling about what to do about William.
Nate stood and peered out the window glad to see the fog had melted and sunlight washed the city. A walk would clear his head, and his destination would clear his conscience. He would speak with Detective Cooper, and fuck what William thought about it.
It took all of William’s attention to focus on memorizing his speech for the rally. He’d had a horrible night’s sleep. On the way to work, he’d spilled coffee on his favorite tie, had given his assistant the wrong paper to type and, after another dose of ibuprofen and acetaminophen, still had a throbbing headache.
Dr. Tom Bennett strode into his office without knocking. While he liked his colleague, Tom was too perceptive not to pick up on William’s sour mood. In many ways, he reminded William of Nate, far too intelligent for his own good.
Tom tossed a manila folder on William’s desk and crossed his arms. William looked up from his paper and frowned at the gleam in Tom’s eyes. William folded his hands on his desk. “Okay, out with it. What is with the folder?”
“I’m giving it back to you.”
William opened it to find his chart that he’d worked on yesterday. “What’s the problem?”
Tom raised his brows. “Just that it’s full of mistakes.” He schooled his voice to sound like a carnival barker. “Come one, come all! See the great Dr. Ryner screw up.”
William bristled. “Jesus, just fix it.” He slapped the folder shut and shoved it toward Tom. “I have to memorize this speech, so if you would please leave…”
Instead, Tom pulled up a chair and sat. “It’s not just a few minor errors. So I suggest you redo it.”
William frowned as he opened the folder again. He didn’t make mistakes, not with something as simple as this. He looked over his figures, and his frown deepened. What the hell had he been thinking yesterday? This didn’t even make sense.
“I’ll go over it.”
“I’ve never known you to write anything but pure genius, so what gives?”
William didn’t want to answer. Nate Coleman was the problem.
William unbuttoned the top buttons of his lab coat. He’d have to come up with some lie to appease Tom’s curiosity. Tom wouldn’t leave until he found out the truth.
“I’ve had this headache since yesterday. It’s frying my brain.”
“Then take a day off. You’ve been at it for weeks now. You’re in San Francisco, where half the men are gay. Take advantage. Go out, get laid.”
William smiled at Tom’s assumption that just because he was gay, he’d be able to get a man every night of the week. “It’s not that easy.”
“Yes, it is. Even I get laid on a weekly basis, and I don’t have your GQ looks.”
True. Tom was quite the ladies’ man, even with his nerdish clothes and plain face, but William had always suspected women loved a brilliant mind over looks. Tom had enough brains to fill a think tank ten times over. His friend also had a boyish charm with his tousled reddish brown hair and dimples.
“It’s different at your age.” William winced at sounding like an old man.
“I’m not that much younger. Come on, Will. Have you had any lately?”
A flush of heat swept over William. Okay, that was TMI. “I don’t parade my personal life at the office. You know how people gossip, and you’re the worst of the lot.” He stabbed the folder with his finger. “Leave so I can fix this.”
Tom laughed as he stood. “Okay, okay, I’m outta here. But I guess that was a yes.”
William was tempted to throw the file at Tom as he hastened out the door. He shoved back his chair and kicked up his feet on the desk. If he was going to get any work done, he had to settle this thing between him and Nate, whatever it was.
Chapter Four
TO NATE’S RELIEF, Detective Cooper had been responsive and had agreed to position extra patrols for the rally, especially around the perimeter of the stage. At least he’d gotten that much. He wasn’t in the mood to go back to work or call Derrick. It would have to be another night spent with Lulu. He shook his head at his non-existent sex life.
He took the steps two at a time to his office. He’d pick up his seminar notes, go to the market to stock his fridge, and then head home.
As soon as he stepped into the foyer, he sensed another presence even though Evan had left for the day, and the waiting area was empty. He heard voices coming through Sabrina’s door. Then Nate saw him. Next to his office door, William sat on the floor with his back to the wall, legs bent, forehead resting on his knees. Fear swept through Nate at seeing William’s slumped body. He hurried and knelt next to William, the scene too reminiscent of his dream. Placing his right hand on the broad shoulder, the fabric of William’s suit jacket felt warm.
“William.” He shook William’s shoulder. “Are you okay?”
William looked up, confusion in his eyes. “Nate?” He rubbed his face. “Ah, sorry, I must have fallen asleep. Ah, my head…”
“One of your headaches?”
“I’ll be fine.”
“I have some Tylenol and that other pill you take.”
William’s forehead furrowed.
Nate shrugged. “A habit I got from living with you.” The combination of pills had been the only treatment that eased William’s headaches. Had Nate’s visit stressed William that much? And if it did, did it mean William believed even a little in what Nate had said?
Nate dampened his hope, not wanting to get ahead of himself. “Come on, let me help you stand.”
Nate circled his arm around William’s waist and led him to the couch in his office. “Lie down. Don’t worry, it’s comfortable. I crash here when I’m too tired to walk home.”
William sprawled on his back, taking the long side of the L-shaped couch. He bent his legs to accommodate his height and flung his arm over his eyes. “Sorry,” he mumbled.
Nate dimmed the overhead light and closed the door. He hadn’t lied about staying overnigh
t and had installed a sink, portable fridge, and microwave to zap frozen dinners. Glad for the conveniences, he soaked the hand towel under the cold tap and wrung it out. Then he got bottled water from the fridge and shook out tablets from the bottles he kept in his desk drawer.
Nate nudged William’s hip with the water bottle. “Hey, move a little so I can sit.”
William sidled closer to the backrest, keeping his arm over his eyes. Nate sat and breathed in William’s scent. A thrill swelled inside of him, his cock perking up. Nothing he could do about his dick but ignore it. He gently pried William’s arm down.
William opened his eyes and frowned. He lifted up by his elbows. “I should go.”
Nate handed him the pills and water. “Slow down, alpha boy. Here, take these. You’re in no condition to drive to Palo Alto.”
William popped in the pills and took a swig of water, then handed the bottle to Nate. “Thanks.”
The usually iron-pressed Dr. Ryner looked disheveled with his tie askew, his jacket wrinkled. “First, let’s get this off you.” Nate tugged at the jacket sleeve.
William turned slightly toward Nate, and their noses bumped, then their lips touched. An electrical shock bolted through Nate, and he jerked back, rubbing his nose, desperate to play down the effect it had on him.
“You pack a mean punch.”
William stared at him for a second, then removed his jacket. He handed it to Nate, not saying a word.
Nate couldn’t read William. Was he as affected or did he feel nothing for Nate anymore?
William lay back down and faced the back of the couch. Taking the opportunity of not being observed, Nate brought the jacket up to his face and inhaled William’s scent. God, he missed that smell. And he was idiot. He folded the jacket over a chair.
“I need to get back to work,” William muttered but didn’t move.
