by Bru Baker
Crawford made a disgusted sound. “Yes. We could have just taken a cab, but he wanted to book a car because it would look better.”
“Is tonight’s dinner something your company will pay for?”
Mateus needed to know if he’d be on the hook for his own meal tonight. He wasn’t going to let Crawford pay for it himself, but he certainly wouldn’t turn down a free meal if it came at the hotel’s expense. Especially since it was technically a business dinner. Maybe Crawford should ask for hazard pay for any time he had to spend with Davis outside the hotel. Mateus had the feeling it wasn’t going to go well.
“Davis will put it on the company card, I’m sure,” Crawford said dismissively, like they expensed four-figure dinners all the time. Maybe they did. Mateus really didn’t know much about what Crawford did.
“Are there any topics you want to steer conversation away from? I can help with that.”
“Tons. But I don’t want to put you in that position. I expect most of the wives will want gossip about my divorce and how you and I met. Stick to the truth as much as possible. We met at the airport while you were coming to visit your brother, hit it off, and things went from there. Don’t talk about Davis at all. God knows I won’t be,” he said, his smile turning grim.
Mateus hated people who gossiped about other people’s tragedies to make themselves feel better. “You shouldn’t have to. It’s none of their business.”
Crawford grinned. Mateus wanted to taste the soft curve of his bottom lip. He clenched his teeth instead. Crawford wasn’t his to kiss.
“Ah, but it’s human nature. The Germans even have a name for it. Schadenfreude. Taking pleasure in someone else’s misfortune.” Crawford’s tone was chipper, like he wasn’t going to be the one at the butt of any of the schadenfreude that got tossed around at dinner. How could he be so blasé? It wasn’t even about Crawford, and it made Mateus want to destroy something.
“Just because it’s human nature doesn’t make it right,” Mateus snapped.
Crawford studied him for a moment, his smile growing. “Most things about human nature aren’t right. Like confusing lust for love. Luckily we learn from our mistakes. That’s human nature too. And now I know not to trust anything intangible. Love doesn’t exist.”
“Surely you don’t mean that. Love does exist. It’s everywhere. And just because he hurt you doesn’t mean you weren’t in love with him at one time. Or that he wasn’t in love with you. People change, and it’s not always for the better.”
Crawford shrugged noncommittally. “Everyone has a different outlook.”
Mateus let the conversation drop, but he couldn’t help but turn Crawford’s bitter words over and over in his head as they drove to the restaurant. Did Crawford really not believe in love, or was he just hiding a tender heart behind a facade of sneering disinterest? And if he wasn’t still in love with Davis, then why was he so preoccupied with making him jealous? How did Mateus fit into that?
MATEUS slumped against his seat and watched the buildings pass by out the window. Davis had been waiting for them at the car, and he and Crawford were engaged in an animated debate involving expanding the hotel’s spa. He snuck a look over at them.
They looked relaxed in each other’s presence. Crawford was sitting between Mateus and Davis, and Mateus couldn’t help but notice he was closer to Davis than he was to him. He tried not to read too much into it, but when Davis flung a hand out to accentuate a point and let it come to rest on Crawford’s shoulder, Mateus gave up on watching them and stared out the window again.
Mateus knew Crawford was attracted to him—that was obvious. So was the chemistry between them. But Crawford had chemistry with Davis too. And a history. That was a lot to overcome. Especially since Crawford had been steadfast in his determination to keep things nonsexual between himself and Mateus out of some misguided nobility that was both a turn-on and a source of never-ending frustration.
But watching him with Davis, Mateus wondered if it was more than that. Was Crawford’s hesitancy just because he thought he’d be taking advantage of Mateus, or was there more to it? He’d been so adamant that love didn’t exist. Maybe too adamant. Was it possible he wasn’t over Davis?
Mateus hadn’t known Crawford long enough to be hurt or jealous, but he didn’t have any other way to explain the empty ache in his chest.
Chapter Nine
CRAWFORD should have declined. Both the dinner they’d just suffered through and Mateus’s invitation to join him in their suite’s rooftop hot tub afterward. It wasn’t like he could blame Mateus for how he was feeling. Mateus had just been following Crawford’s instructions earlier; that was the real killer. Crawford had asked him to pretend, and God, had he.
Mateus had been amazing at the restaurant. He’d been strangely quiet and withdrawn in the car, but as soon as they’d gotten to the restaurant, he’d perked up and become the embodiment of the perfect husband.
He’d been attentive and funny, and the smoldering looks he’d sent Crawford all night had been so believable Crawford was still aching from them. No one at that dinner had any reason to think he and Mateus were anything but madly in love, which was exactly what he’d wanted. The problem was that Crawford was half-convinced too, and that way lay madness.
There were a hundred good reasons not to climb into a hot tub with Mateus, and the leading one was the fact that Crawford was ridiculously attracted to his husband. Mateus had looked like perfection tonight, and he’d handled everything Davis threw at him with grace and charm. He’d completely won over everyone at their table, aside from Crawford’s ex.
Crawford and Mateus had barely kept their eyes off each other all night, which had caused more than a few giggles and titters among their tablemates and obvious, seething jealousy from Davis. Instead of making him feel vindicated, it just made Crawford tired. He didn’t want to play any games with Davis. He wanted nothing to do with him at all. And using someone as kind and generous as Mateus as his foil left a bad taste in Crawford’s mouth. There was nothing fake about the chemistry between them, and it made Crawford’s chest ache to keep up the charade as time went on.
The fact was, he was actually getting to know Mateus, and he was so much more than a pretty face and a delectable accent. He was brilliant and so passionate about the orchard he and his brother were running in Washington—Crawford could listen to him talk about it all night. Hell, he practically had. The entire table had been captivated by Mateus’s stories about camping out with heaters to save the trees during an unexpected frost and his experiments with grafting saplings to try to breed out diseases. Even though he rarely indulged in anything more serious than a one-night stand, Crawford could definitely see himself in a relationship with Mateus. It was just a shame that it could never happen, given their circumstances.
At least the sexual tension between them had excused them from after-dinner drinks. If not for Mateus, Crawford would have gritted his teeth and seen the night through, but Mateus gave him a ready-made excuse to leave early. In fact, they hadn’t even had to play that card themselves—the hotel’s general manager had joined them for the evening, and he had practically shoved them into a cab outside the restaurant after the meal had wrapped up. It had been worth the good-natured jeers and winks to escape.
But now he was about to do something very, very stupid, so maybe it hadn’t been much of an escape after all. If he were smart, he’d go to bed. He’d tell Mateus, rightly so, that he had an early meeting and needed his rest. He’d ask for a rain check so he could tackle the mountain of paperwork that was waiting for him in messy piles on the dining table. He’d fake a water phobia.
Anything that kept him out of an enclosed space in one of the most romantic settings Crawford could imagine with the one man he couldn’t make a move on.
But Crawford wasn’t smart. He ran through excuses in his head as he took off his clothes, carefully hung his suit in the closet, and rifled through his suitcase to find the swim trunks he knew he’d packed.
Not for this occasion, of course. He’d envisioned a vigorous swim in the lap pool, not an agonizing soak in a private hot tub with the most attractive man he’d ever met.
After he changed, he picked up his phone and texted Adam, not sure whether to hope he was awake to talk him out of this or to hope that he didn’t see the message in time to chastise Crawford for even thinking about it.
Rooftop hot tub with Mateus. Bad idea?
His phone dinged almost instantly.
The worst. Have fun.
Dammit.
I can’t get involved with him, he texted back.
You already are. You may as well get something out of it.
Crawford took a breath and rubbed his hand over his face. As usual, Adam had cut to the quick of it and said exactly what Crawford needed to hear. It would be wrong to take advantage of Mateus. And even if Mateus said he was interested, how could Crawford be sure he really was and wasn’t just saying that because he was afraid Crawford would change his mind about helping him get a visa? No. He had to keep his distance.
Thanks, bro, he texted back. He tossed his phone on the bed and strode out into the main room to tell Mateus he couldn’t join him tonight. The doors to the terrace were already open, so Crawford walked through. His breath caught in his throat when he saw Mateus.
He was silhouetted against the skyline, his arms folded together like he was cold. He’d apparently picked up a pair of swim trunks at the same place he’d gotten his clothes for tonight, because they were almost indecently tight, just like the trousers he’d had on.
Crawford’s excuses died on his lips. Mateus looked so breathtakingly lonely that Crawford couldn’t bring himself to disappoint him. Especially when Mateus turned around and a huge smile bloomed across his face.
“Ready? I turned it on a bit ago. It should be nice and hot for us.”
Mateus’s eyes sparkled in the dim lights, his expression happy but still slightly unsure. Like he was expecting Crawford to bow out at any time. Would he look that vulnerable if he didn’t want more from Crawford? Wouldn’t he be hoping Crawford wouldn’t want to spend time with him, not hoping that he’d stick around?
“I’m glad it’s clear out,” Crawford said, looking up. “You can’t see many stars because of the light pollution from the city, but there are a few up there.”
Mateus rubbed his arms briskly and came away from the edge of the terrace to join Crawford next to the hot tub. “Cold, though.”
Crawford laughed. “After spending ten years in LA, anything under eighty degrees feels cold to me. I figured you’d have built up a tougher skin living in Washington. It’s always chilly there.”
Mateus hefted himself up onto the edge of the tub and eased into the roiling water. “Ah,” he murmured as he slid deeper into the water. “That’s my one complaint about the orchard. That and the rain.”
“I miss rain.” Crawford was trying not to stare at Mateus. But it was hard. His skin had flushed from the heat, and somehow knowing his almost-naked body was hidden underneath the water was worse than looking at him standing there in the trunks.
“Does it not rain in Los Angeles? It’s on the coast, isn’t it? I thought it always rained on the coast.”
Crawford couldn’t work up the willpower to leave, so he climbed in. It was better than standing outside the hot tub like an idiot while Mateus was in it. His skin prickled at the sudden heat, and sweat was beading on his forehead by the time he’d sunk all the way in. The water lapped at his chest, and the sharp contrast between the hot water and the cool air made his nerve endings sing. He could see why people liked to do this in cooler climates. He’d never really seen the appeal of an outdoor hot tub in LA.
“It barely rains, and when it does all hell breaks loose because everyone drives like it’s the apocalypse.”
“You grew up in Michigan, isn’t that what you told someone at dinner? Is the weather there much different?”
The genuine interest in Mateus’s voice was almost too much to take. He was everything Crawford had convinced himself didn’t exist—a gorgeous, intelligent man who actually cared about him and wanted to know more about him just for the sake of getting to know him, not to dig for information that would help weasel money or favors out of him.
“It was. I do kind of miss snow. But most of the time I’m happy with the warm weather. Though palm trees with Christmas lights have always felt so wrong to me. Christmas should be for snow and sweaters, not sunshine and shorts.”
Mateus smiled. “Sunshine and shorts. I like that.”
“You won’t get much of it in Washington.”
He shook his head ruefully, making his hair flop across his face. He brushed it back with a practiced hand, a gesture that so many men Crawford knew used as artifice, but that Mateus just did without thinking. He didn’t seem to have any idea how unbelievably sexy he was. Which made him even sexier.
“No, but I like sweaters. And it’s so green there. It’s amazing.”
His face just lit up when he talked about the orchard. Crawford wished he had something like that in his life. He’d worked so hard to get where he was, but the satisfaction he used to feel was missing. Work filled his time, but it wasn’t his be-all, end-all anymore. He didn’t feel passionate about it like Mateus did about his trees and his plants. Crawford wanted that. He wanted to love what he did so much that he’d risk going to jail to stay in a place where he could do it. That he’d marry a stranger just to keep it for a few months longer.
“There’s a rain forest on the Olympic Peninsula. Have you been?” Crawford wanted to offer to take Mateus there just so he could be the one to introduce Mateus to something so beautiful. He wanted to be there when Mateus’s jaw dropped in awe and his heart swelled with happiness to be in the middle of such a magical place.
“I haven’t, but I remember reading about it in graduate school. The flora in temperate rain forests has always fascinated me.”
Crawford coughed and looked away before he gave in to his impulse and promised to take Mateus there. There wouldn’t be any trips to lush rain forests in their future. Once they’d convinced the immigration office that their marriage was legitimate, they’d be parting ways and likely not seeing each other again. Adam had promised him they didn’t even have to be in the same state to get a divorce—once the orchard was doing well enough that Duarte could hire Mateus on and make a case for a work visa, they’d just quietly sever their ties and be done with things.
It hurt even to think about. He’d only known Mateus for two days, but Crawford was becoming increasingly sure he wanted those days to be the first of many they shared. Which was why he gave in to instinct and leaned forward, his eyes on Mateus’s face as he closed in, giving Mateus plenty of time to pull back if this wasn’t what he wanted.
Crawford’s heart sang when Mateus leaned forward himself, closing the gap between them with a small smile. Crawford closed his eyes just before their lips touched, but not before he’d gotten a close enough look to catalog all the colors in Mateus’s eyes. They looked brown, but up close there were flecks of gold that sparkled in the dim light.
The kiss was tentative, and Crawford let it stay that way. He didn’t want to take control, since he still wasn’t sure of his welcome. After a moment, Mateus took charge, driving the kiss deeper. Crawford shivered when Mateus’s tongue probed at the seam of his closed lips, and he opened them, inviting Mateus in. He tilted his head for better access, but kept his hands at his sides. He wanted to touch Mateus right now more than anything, which was why he didn’t. The rational part of his brain might have disengaged enough to make the kiss seem like a good idea, but he was still present enough to know that letting things escalate would be a very bad idea.
He pulled back when Mateus broke the kiss to take a breath. He soaked in the sight of Mateus’s kiss-swollen lips and the hint of beard burn from the five-o’clock shadow Crawford hadn’t bothered to shave off before dinner. They stared at each other for a long moment, the bubbling o
f the jets competing with the roaring of his own blood in his ears to fill the silence.
“I should get to bed,” Crawford blurted. Mateus’s face shuttered, going back to his mask of polite interest. “I mean, it’s late. And I have a breakfast meeting with Davis. So, bed.”
He’d meant to say he’d enjoyed the kiss. Or that he wanted to talk about taking things to the next level between them. But he couldn’t get the words past his tongue. Guilt flooded through him. What had he been thinking? He’d forgotten why they were there. This wasn’t a meaningless hookup with someone he’d met in a bar, something to scratch an itch. This was his husband—the man who was only here because he had to be.
Mateus’s face had closed off as soon as Crawford pulled back and started babbling, and Crawford hated that he couldn’t read him. Mateus was usually so open. Seeing him sitting there with a blank expression bordered on painful, especially since Crawford was the one responsible for putting that look on his face.
Crawford hauled himself up out of the water. Steam rose off his body, and his skin erupted in gooseflesh at the sudden change in temperature. It helped tamp down the arousal that had threaded through him after kissing Mateus, finishing off the lingering tendrils of it that had remained even after his attack of guilt. How could he have done something so stupid?
“There’s no one booked after us, so there’s no rush to leave the room tomorrow. We could have lunch, if you like, and maybe get checked in to the new suite after that?”
He shouldn’t be having lunch with Mateus. He’d planned a brutal work schedule that didn’t include taking time off in the middle of the day to eat when he could be having a working lunch with Davis and the hotel’s managers, but Crawford didn’t like the thought of Mateus bumming around the suite all day with nothing to do. The kindest thing for both of them would be to keep his distance and establish a friendly but reserved attitude with Mateus, but Crawford just couldn’t seem to do it. He’d take one step forward—like deciding not to get into the hot tub—and then two steps back. Though giving in to temptation and kissing Mateus had probably been more than two steps back. It would probably qualify as a leap.
