by Tara Lain
Adam. How could this happen? Adam James. How the hell could he have fallen for a man like this? A developer aka rapist, marauder. Sure, he’d known he and Adam were different. Adam wasn’t like anyone he would have chosen on purpose. But when he’d seen him on that beach….
Oh crap. He wanted to run. No, he wanted to kill. So Adam was out to rape the environment? Fine. He’d show the asshole what he was up against.
He stepped up to the microphone. “Ladies and gentlemen, I’m Sky Sea Mickeljohn. I only have three minutes, but other members of our group will come forward and, in their few minutes, present additional data that I have collected on this project.”
He couldn’t keep his eyes from stealing over to Adam. The man’s gaze looked horrified. It ought to be, but it still put a bad taste in Sky’s mouth.
“As Mr. Biloxi stated, this land can’t be made suitable for people anytime soon… and probably never. It contains chemicals such as benzene and toluene that not only cause cancer but can alter human DNA.” The noise level in the room rose. “Nothing this development firm can do will make the project habitable. Instead, the land must be subject to phytoremediation, which will gradually restore the balance of nature. We also have reason to believe that there is precious, environmentally sensitive habitat on that land that cannot be disturbed.”
The council clerk called out, “Time.”
He smiled. “Thank you.”
A lady from the community came up to the mike with the paper he’d written for her. She talked about the sensitivity of the environment. The presenter after her outlined the traffic issues.
As she began to speak, Sky turned. Adam’s deep brown eyes looked wide and shiny. Yeah, you’ll be more in shock when I’m done with you, developer.
THE WORDS flowed around Adam like a river of sewage. Environmentally sensitive habitat. Benzene, xylene, toluene. Glaring omissions in the environmental impact report. Carcinogenic and mutagenic. And the unkindest cut of all, fairy shrimp. Little protected crustaceans the preserve maintained were found on their land.
Every word hammered on his bank account, but Adam couldn’t focus. His heart beat to the name Sky, Sky, Sky.
WMA might very well be screwed. Screwed because he had wanted to screw Sky. Sky could have been the head of the EPA, and Adam wouldn’t have noticed. Adam wanted Sky, and he’d thought with his cock.
He stared at the back of the curly hair. Even Sky’s posture radiated indignation. Those gentle kisses, his sweet words when they parted. I miss you already. Long gone. Here in this room, Sky looked at Adam with disgust, maybe even hatred.
Bill and his partners trembled with panic. They whispered and made frantic notes for their redirect. Adam leaned over and put a hand on Bill’s arm. “Let me.”
Bill stared at him. “Really? You want to take this on?”
“Since I’m clearly not in the loop on some issues, I have plausible deniability.” Adam cocked his head at Bill, who had the good grace to look embarrassed. Adam forced a smile and continued. “Plus I’m not going to make any claims. We don’t have time to tackle this diatribe point by point.”
“Okay.”
The chairman called for redirect, and Adam walked up to the lectern. Time to look totally trustworthy. He tried not to glance at Sky but failed. God, the man looked so angry.
“Ladies and gentlemen, we appreciate so much all of the effort that has gone into this presentation. And we sincerely empathize with the homeowners who face the prospect of construction in their backyard for a year. This is disruptive and annoying, even when it ultimately benefits you and the community.” He smiled and could practically feel Sky bristling at the condescension. Good. “We haven’t discussed some of the toxic pollutants because, quite simply, WMA Development has dealt successfully with such remediation in the past and is more than prepared to do so again for the benefit of Newport Beach. As you’ve seen, every detail of this project has been thought out. We ask for your approval.”
One of the councilmen tapped his mic. “Mr. James, from what in this report am I to conclude that all traffic issues have been resolved?”
“Our traffic engineering consultant assures us that the flow on the access roads will be within the regulations, and we’re negotiating turn lanes.”
“I want to see a complete report.”
“Yes, sir.” That meant no approval today, but they hadn’t really expected that. He needed the time to get the traffic issues handled anyway.
Lilly March leaned forward to her microphone and held up her copy of their presentation. “Mr. James, I believe this report on environmental impact to be seriously understated. Dr. Mickeljohn has raised issues I consider frightening. I will never approve this project unless every question raised by Dr. Mickeljohn and the Newport Nature Preserve is satisfactorily answered.”
Well, shit.
The mayor looked at Lilly March. “Since two of our members are requesting additional data, we will continue this issue for one month. Please see the clerk for a date. Let’s move on to item number fourteen on the agenda.”
ADAM THREW his keys on the hall table and looked into the mirror. So this was what it meant when people said you looked tired. After the meeting, Bill and the boys had microscopically examined every detail of the presentation while consuming vast amounts of alcohol and ranting at every member of the community and city council. Special curses were reserved for Sky Sea Mickeljohn, “the goddamned tree-hugging, whale-kissing pervert.” Adam wanted to vomit.
He pulled off his suit jacket, threw it over a chair, and carried his laptop into the living room. What a mess. All through the dissection, he kept thinking about the e-mail he wanted to write to Sky.
Adam needed to explain, though he wasn’t sure how. They had a difference of opinion. Sky thought the land was more toxic than the developer did. There had to be a compromise. Sure, one of them would win, but that was the nature of the game. You did your best, you moved on.
He opened the lid of the computer, and his screen sprang to life. Five e-mails from the WMA partners already. God, he’d just left them. There it was. Second from the top. S. S. Mickeljohn.
A kick in his gut. The e-mail address was different than the one he’d used on his earlier messages, the ones that said I miss you so much. I can’t wait until Friday. No more Sky@mailserve. Crap.
Adam didn’t want to look.
Click.
In light of our obvious differences, I feel the need to cancel our engagement on Friday.
S. S. Mickeljohn
Apparently Sky didn’t miss him anymore.
Chapter Four
HIS TEACHER’S voice flowed like oil over the class. “Sun salutation, please. Pronam, backward bend, and inhale. Relax, flow, listen to your breath. Mindful, ever mindful.”
Sky breathed deeply. He stepped out into a long lunge, brought his hands together high above his head, and leaned back in a big arch. Every move felt so good.
But not as good as pushing his cock into Adam Fucking James. Crap. Sky wobbled and almost fell over. Oh God, what am I going to do? Nothing. It’s over. No, it had never been. Before that council meeting, they hadn’t even known each other’s real names, and he sure as hell hadn’t known the guy was a fucking developer. He hated developers. He and Adam had nothing.
Have to get out of here. Quietly he rolled up his mat, gathered his carry bag, gave a small pronam to the teacher, and hurried out of the yoga studio.
Out in the parking lot, he ran to the Prius and managed to get the door open. Heat pressed behind his eyes. Jesus. He was Sky Sea Mickeljohn. He didn’t cry over some guy. Dead whales and oil-covered ducks, yes, but not a man. Especially not an attorney hired by developers, hired guns who were no better than whores.
He stopped and leaned on the hood. I like Adam so much. No. Liked. Past tense. Footsteps sounded behind him. He took a breath and started to get in the car.
“Hey, Sky. How ya doin’, man?”
Sky glanced back. “Hi, Jerry.” Jerry was a
great guy. He’d never say anything mean.
“You okay?”
“Yeah, kind of.”
“Never saw you wobble an inch in yoga before. Made me feel like not such a klutz, ya know?”
Sky smiled at the handsome blond firefighter and surfer. “You’re far from a klutz, man. You ride a half-pipe like a winged god.”
Jerry’s bright eyes crinkled at the corners. “Hey, thanks! I gotta remember that one. Maybe I’ll ask Roman to paint me on a surfboard some time. You should pose for Roman, ya know. Bet he’d love to paint you.”
Sky sighed. “What would he want with a skinny wrangler like me?” Shit. The words were out, and all he could hear was Adam’s voice. The heat pressed at his eyeballs again. “I should go.”
“You want to talk about it?”
He shook his head, then leaned his forehead on the car, the metal warm from the sun. He took a breath of the fresh air, and words just poured out. “I met this guy. I really liked him. Really, really liked him. You know I’m not great with people. Hell, I like sharks more than most humans. Then I found out the guy wasn’t who I thought. He’s like a symbol of everything I hate. I’m just disappointed.” He raised his head.
“You seem sad to me.”
He turned back to Jerry. “Yeah, I guess.”
Jerry shrugged. Totally laid-back. The guy relaxed you just looking at him. Bet he was cool in a fire. “Ya know, sometimes we have ideas about what we love or hate, but I don’t think that makes much difference. We want what we want. You’re smart. If you liked the guy a lot, there had to be a reason, don’t ya think? Just figure out what you liked and go with it.”
Sky smiled. “I liked my cock in his ass.”
Jerry grinned. “Hell yeah. But you know us guys. If you want to fuck one guy in particular, you’ve probably got it bad.” He laughed his funny hiccupping chortle.
“You make it sound simple.”
“Hey, love is never simple.”
“Who said anything about love?”
Jerry grinned and popped the dimples. “I think you did.”
DAMNED OCEAN. So fucking noisy. Adam stared out the french doors of his suite at Carly’s. Face it—he was hiding. Eight great guys were out there, many of whom would be happy to fuck him senseless… and he was holed up in his suite feeling like he’d lost his last friend. Maybe he had.
The Friday of his supposed date with Sky had come and gone, and two Fridays since. Adam coped by working. In fact, he’d done nothing else. He shouldn’t even be at Carly’s. He and his clients had to go back before the city council on Thursday. But he’d done his part. He’d worked out the traffic problems with the city and obtained the approvals. Completing the traffic requirements with all the extra lanes and right-hand turns was going to cost three times as much as expected, but he’d done it. Now the environmental shit was in Bill’s hands.
Adam sighed. When Carly’s invitation came, he’d thought he wanted to go. To forget. To drown in sex. Now, he didn’t think he could get it up for Brad Pitt.
Adam opened the computer again and looked at his e-mail. Bill said they had a new consultant who would trump Mickeljohn. The consultant swore the remediation methods used by WMA would do the job. He swore there was no environmentally sensitive habitat. That was good. Wasn’t it?
A piece of him didn’t want to defeat Sky. Fucking crazy. He sighed. Okay, enough of this shit. He didn’t get to come to Carly’s often.
He closed the computer, grabbed his windbreaker, and headed toward the patio. The sun was down, the beach was getting dark, and the twenty-degree drop in temp that heralded the evening had set in. Big surf hammered the shore, shaking the flagstones.
Carly waved to him from the edge of the patio, where he stood with four other guys. Everybody new this time. Adam hadn’t even learned their names.
He walked over.
Carly raised his glass. “Thought we’d lost you to the work monster.”
Adam smiled. “Theoretically I’m ready for the week ahead, but you know how that is.” He stuck out a hand toward the first guy. He seemed kind of geeky but good-looking, expensively dressed in skintight clamdiggers and a pink shirt.
“Hi. I’m James.”
“Maurice.”
Adam smiled.
The guy stuck a hand on his hip. “Yeah, I know. Every gay guy in every joke is named Maurice. But I didn’t make it up.”
Adam met the other three men, but their names went out of his head. Not paying attention. One of them was just his type too. What the hell is my type? Six foot three and skinny, he very much feared.
Carly put a hand on his arm. “You okay, buddy?”
“Sorry. I’m just distracted. You know, I think I’m going to walk on the beach for a while.”
Carly raised an eyebrow. “You did not really say that.”
Maurice smiled. “I could go with you. I love long walks on the beach.”
Adam smiled back. “Thanks, but I’m trying to work out some stuff. I just want to think a little. We’ll talk later, okay?”
Maurice batted his lashes. “I’ll count on it.”
Adam kicked off his flip-flops, pulled on the windbreaker, and set out across the beach. He walked as close to the waterline as the pounding surf would allow and felt the cold scrape of wet sand on his soles.
That guy back there. Maurice. He was what people thought of as gay. What would it be like to be with a man like that? He sighed. Sky looked kind of girlie, but he wasn’t. He was such a guy. Adam liked that. Stop it. Drop it.
He breathed deeply. His windpipe burned a little from the salt in the air. Hell, he’d barely been outside in the last three weeks, so this was good for him.
Quit thinking. He looked up where the line of gorgeous beach houses ended and a sea wall began, where he’d been sitting when he first saw Sky. Maybe he’d rest awhile.
He plopped down. Interesting how he’d gotten more accustomed to sitting in stuff he would have once considered dirty. Wonder why that is?
Oh, right.
A fingernail-thin moon shed just a hint of reflection on the rolling, pounding water. Still, the peaks of the waves glittered with phosphorescence. Some of them were pretty high. He wouldn’t be able to stay long because the rising tide would eat the sand completely in an hour or so.
God, so tired. Both exhausted-tired and tired of… fill in the blank. Tired of hearing slurs on everything and everyone from his WMA partners. Tired of feeling uneasy about the environmental issues on the land. He sighed. Tired of not seeing Sky. Crap, he missed him so bad he ached.
Adam leaned back on his forearms. The sand felt cold and damp under a thin layer of dry and warm. The ocean was so pretty and… he sat up fast.
What the fuck? A man rose out of the foamy surf—and he knew which man. It was like he’d just manifested Sky out of a dream. His heart slammed against his ribcage.
The tall figure in full wetsuit ambled forward a few steps and pulled off his mouthpiece and hood.
Sky looked up.
Adam held his hands to his mouth and shouted. “What are you doing here?”
Sky shook his head and took a couple steps in. He was on hard-packed sand, still bubbling from the last wave.
Adam tried again. He came closer, still yelling, “Why the hell are you here? Did you know I’d be here?”
Sky shook his head again, but this time he seemed to have heard. He frowned and shouted, “I work out there, idiot.” He leaned over and pulled off his flippers.
Well, hell. How could one man be so sweet and so mean too? Adam threw his arm up and gave Sky the one-fingered salute. “Fuck you!”
Sky frowned. “No, fuck you. And I have!” The bastard took another two steps toward Adam, and then his face changed. He hobbled and fell onto the sand, clutching his foot.
What happened? Holy shit. A huge wave gathered right behind him. Up and up. With a crash, it broke on top of him.
“Sky! Sky!” No response. Adam raced down the sand into whitewater sou
p. Sky was on his back, flailing. Adam grabbed him by the arm and dragged him farther up the beach, away from the surf.
Adam let go of Sky’s latex-covered arm, and he crumpled onto the soft sand, still clutching his foot. Blood. Blood was running down his ankle. Sweet Jesus. Adam hunkered down. “What happened?”
“Glass, I think.”
Adam ripped off his jacket. It was soaked, but the nylon windbreaker had kept his shirt moderately dry in spots. He needed a bandage. A closer look at Sky’s foot showed a lot of blood and not much else.
“Do you think the glass is still in it?”
“I can’t tell. Hurts like hell, so maybe.”
Without clean water, Adam couldn’t wash the wound to see what was going on. He grabbed an end of the shirt and pulled. Well, shit. It wouldn’t tear.
Sky gave a half grin. “Not as easy as it looks in the movies, is it? Here, let me.” He held out his hand for the shirt, and Adam handed it over.
The wind was cold too. Sky shuddered, his blood staining the dry sand. He held the ends of the shirt and spun it into a roll, then wrapped it around his foot and tied it tight.
Adam stood and reached out his hands to Sky, who took hold. Arms and legs went everywhere, but together they managed to haul Sky to his feet. Adam wrapped an arm around Sky’s waist and started a slow, step-by-step hobble up the beach.
Every time Sky had to put the injured foot down even a little, he winced. “Just get me to my car.”
“Like hell. You can’t drive. I’m taking you to Carly’s. Then I’ll drive you to the emergency room.”
“You were at Carly’s?”
“Yes.”
Sky’s body tensed. “Looking for some more random guys to suck in with your two-faced charm?”
“Shit! You asshole.” He almost dropped the guy. “I didn’t suck you in, as you would clearly see if you weren’t so blinded by the radiance of your three-hundred-and-sixty-degree spherical ego.”
“My ego? What about you, who thinks he can wrap the whole fucking city council around his lying little finger?” Sky raised his voice to a mocking squeak. “‘WMA Development has extensive experience with remediation like this.’”
