Wanting It All: A Naked Men Novel

by Christi Barth

  It hadn’t happened yet.

  Knox wasn’t even tempted.

  The only emotion he felt was regret at the automatic and polite flirtations that had already spilled out of him.

  This was stupid. Lila had to be a sign. Not that he believed in signs. Aliens, sure. Ghosts, maybe. Signs were too easily grabbed at by the desperate. Manipulated any which way. Lila, though—she was all the neon on the Vegas strip flashing at him, saying, Come on, Knox, get back in the game. Look at what you’re missing.

  What if this thing with Madison ran its course by next week? Would he kick himself for missing out on a night with the winsome and willing woman smiling at him rightthefucknow with parted lips? Why put off till tomorrow the hot blonde you can sleep with today?

  Madison. Madison was why. Even with her laser-beam focus on marriage. Despite having the potential to wreck a lifelong friendship that meant more to him than any woman ever could. Madison was still there, often in his thoughts, sometimes in his pants, and increasingly in his heart. What the ever-loving-fuck was he supposed to do about her?

  “Knox?” Riley took him by the arm and pushed him into a chair. “Your face just went sheet white. Put your head between your knees.” Without giving him the chance to respond, Ry shoved his face at the floor. “Is it your concussion? Were you lying when you said the docs cleared you to do this today? Is your head pounding?”

  “It is now.” Not from the concussion, though. He couldn’t take Riley in full survivalist mode. Especially since his head was perfectly fine. Knox hung upside down for another second, then grabbed the table to pull himself up. “Back off. Give a guy some room to breathe. And don’t ever grab my arm like that when I’m wearing this linen suit. Wrinkles don’t just disappear by themselves. Respect the suit.”

  “If he’s bitching about his designer duds, then he’s fine,” Josh said with a sigh of relief.

  Griffin didn’t give up so easily. He crouched on the floor in front of Knox. Moved his finger from left to right, then up and down. “Are you seeing double again?”

  “What the hell? Did Jerry give you all a tutorial in post-concussion syndrome?”

  “Actually, yes.”

  “I’m fine.” And Knox was—physically. Of course, he sure wasn’t about to admit what had truly just happened. That the whole foundation of his life had cracked at the center and shifted to make room for…he didn’t know what. “Just a little zing of a headache. It happens. No need to go into full EMT mode.”

  “Stop scaring us.”

  “Hey, it’s no picnic for me. I’m the guy who had to spend twenty-four hours in that scratchy cotton hell called a hospital gown, remember?”

  Lara rushed into the room. “What happened? Did you almost pass out? Should I call an ambulance?”

  “It’s no worse than brain freeze from eating ice cream too fast. Seriously. Everybody calm the hell down.”

  Lara glared at her twin. “What did you do to him? ‘Accidentally’ stick your hand down his pants?”

  “Is that a thing?” Josh stuck his hands in the pockets of his tan shorts, crossed his ankles, and sort of leaned in to Lila. “Because I volunteer to test it out.”

  “Knox, keep your ass in that chair for another five minutes. Josh, keep your hands off my sister. Lila, keep your hands off everyone in the room. I have to go wrap up one thing, then I’ll be back.” Lara blew out as fast as she’d whirled in.

  The door hadn’t even closed before a young boy pushed inside. Arms like twigs, glasses like Coke bottles, and a halting step that showed he wasn’t comfortable in his own skin. It was like Knox was looking in a time travel mirror at his fifteen-year-old self.

  “Lionel, stand up straight, for heaven’s sake.” Lila reached out to push white-blond bangs off his forehead in the habitual gesture of so many mothers. Wait, a mom? Guess fate had stepped in after all. Knox stayed far away from moms. He didn’t like to tangle with kids. Things got too messy, and none of the mess was ever fair to the kid. “Everyone, this is my son, Lionel.”

  Some children were branded for life by bad names when barely out of the womb. Lila had basically promised her son a lifetime of being stuffed in lockers and an interest in astronomy by naming him that. Too bad.

  Griff shook the boy’s hand. “I’m Lieutenant Montgomery. Do you like helicopters?”

  “I considered aeronautical engineering, but dismissed it as too simplistic. I’ve moved on to nanotechnology.”

  Knox almost swallowed his tongue trying not to laugh. It’d be a snowy day in hell when people didn’t respond to his friend the hero pilot. “You must be thinking about colleges already. Got any in mind?”

  “That’s why he’s here,” Lila answered. “He begged his aunt Lara to bring us today.” She gave him a pat on his butt. “Go on, Lionel. Ask him.”

  His Adam’s apple bobbed twice before the words gushed out. “I’ve read all your published papers, Mr. Knox. I even downloaded your thesis. Both of them. I want to be just as successful as you someday. I want to go to MIT. But I know grades alone won’t do it. What’s the secret? What do I need to add to my life that’ll make the admissions team hang on to my application?”

  It was a smart question. From the looks of it, Lionel was probably no more than a sophomore and had time to work on padding his application. “Are you in the top percentile?”

  Lila gaped as if he’d asked if the kid had learned his multiplication tables yet. “Of his school? Of course he is.”

  “No, Mom.” Lionel sighed that condescending sigh particular to kids who’d hit puberty but didn’t have a license yet. “Of the state. And yes, I am.”

  The kid knew his stuff. “Keep that up. Work on getting into summer programs at places like NanoInk or Keystone Nano.”

  “Already planned.”

  Cocky little snot. Knox liked him. “You should join a team.”

  He crossed his chicken arms. “I’m on the chess team, and the debate team.”

  Typical. Just like every other candidate for MIT. Nothing that’d make him stand out. Which was exactly why Knox was giving him the secret keys to the kingdom. He beckoned him closer with one finger. “I mean sports.”

  Lila burst out laughing. “He’d be trampled in two seconds.”

  “Any doofus can exercise muscles. I exercise my brain,” Lionel sneered.

  From behind him, Knox heard one of his friends snort. “That’s where you’re wrong. See these guys?” He jerked a thumb over his shoulder at the rest of the Naked Men. “I was on a soccer team with all of them. It changed my life. I guarantee it helped get me into MIT. How many other geeks do you think have sports on their application? Real sports, not weak-ass wannabes like table tennis,” he amended.

  The kid looked shocked. “Sports are a waste of time.”

  “Nope. They’re actually the complete opposite—sports are imperative. Exercise loosens up your mind. You learn how to work with others, how to lead, how to be nimble in body and mind. You gain self-confidence. You gain friends. It’ll make a man out of you.” Knox almost groaned. He sounded like a weak imitation of a Godfather movie.

  But it was all true. The only thing he regretted in life was not joining the Roosevelt Prep soccer team sooner. Yeah, he’d thought the same as this little twerp. That time spent running laps was time stolen from real learning. Until he’d realized after a few weeks how good he felt after a workout. Banged up, but good. He slept better. Concentration was better. To this day, when his brain got in a rut, Knox hopped on the treadmill and turned it up to seven. After a few miles, everything clicked back into gear.

  With a clatter of heels, Lara came back in and stood, hip-shot, against the open door. “Lionel, Lila, clear out. I’ve got business to do.”

  Lionel shook Knox’s hand. As did Lila, who used the motion to slide a business card into his hand. “Remember, I’m here all week,” she murmured as they filed out.

  Like he’d forget. Like that nugget of information wouldn’t have his brain wrapped up tighter tha
n the giant rubber-band ball down in Florida. Because Knox still couldn’t reconcile the part of him that knew he should lap up Lila like whipped cream—hell, cover her in whipped cream—and the part of him that wanted to text Madison about the MILF hitting on him in front of her own son.

  “What business?” Riley asked. “Are we getting our hands slapped for saying fuck too many times in a podcast?”

  “No.” She crinkled her pert nose. “Although you could use it more sparingly. Just to give the word a stronger punch when you really mean it.”

  Josh smirked. “Okay. Fuck, your sister’s hot.”

  “See? That’s the seventh time you used it in the past hour, so I barely believe you.” Lara sat down in the empty chair they always saved for Logan. Because they all knew he’d be back sooner or later. Even though they were well into “later” at this point.

  Griff rolled up to the table and drummed his fingers on it. “If this is a contractual thing, should we schedule a time when Bob Osner and our lawyer can join in the fun?”

  “That’ll be the next step. Today I’m just feeling you out.”

  Josh jerked his chin toward the door. “How about you let Lila feel me up instead? Promise I’ll say yes to anything after that.”

  “Do you ever turn it off?”

  “Hey, I’m pulling double duty. With Knox sidelined by an actual relationship, I’ve got to flirt twice as hard.”

  Lara goggled at Knox. “An actual relationship, huh? Guess I owe Bob fifty dollars.”

  This couldn’t be headed anywhere good. “Why?” Knox asked as he got up to grab a bottle of water from the mini-fridge in the corner.

  “We have a bet going. Well, we had one going. It’s over now. He was sure that, with all the women you guys would attract doing this show, you’d all be hooked up by the end of the year.”

  Riley cocked an eyebrow. “You put money on us?”

  “Two bets. One on it not happening within a year, and a side bet as to the order if it did happen. Knox here was my ace in the hole. I was sure he’d never catch the love virus.”

  There went the floor, skidding out from beneath him again. Good thing he had a concussion. It was a good cover for him grabbing at the backs of chairs. Knox braced himself on the back of Griff’s, staring daggers at Lara. “Nobody said love. I didn’t say love. She didn’t say love.”

  “You turned down my heavy-handed and available sister, didn’t you? My twin sister, which means I’m extremely aware of just how hot Lila is. You’d have to be either castrated or in love to turn her down.”

  Ry used his foot to kick Knox’s chair over to him. “As usual, our esteemed producer has picked up on a detail that we all overlooked. You didn’t take a rain check. You just turned her down flat. Because of Madison?”

  Yes. But that didn’t equate to love. Just good manners. “I don’t double dip. That’s a douchebag move.” Knox cracked his water and took a gigantic pull.

  “So you’ve committed to Madison.” Griffin slapped his thigh. “Knox Davies, you’re a one-woman man.”

  “I’m a one-woman-at-a-time man. Let’s not exaggerate the situation. Hell, let’s not talk about it at all.” The podcast was over for the week. No more enforced sharing. “What’s the business we need to discuss? Because I haven’t had alcohol in a week, and there’s a bottle of Dogfish Head 120 Minute IPA waiting for me at home to get me back off the concussion wagon.”

  Lara pointed her finger at each one of them in turn. “Congratulations, gentlemen. Your show’s a hit.”

  “We’ve only been doing it for two months.”

  “We knew it was gold after the second week. That’s why we made a push for the publicity shots. And, as expected, they’re a hit, too. You happen to be a ridiculously good-looking group of guys.”

  “Well, Logan’s not here,” Knox joked. “His ugly mug brings down the group rating by a few ticks.” Ry reached across to high-five him.

  Lara focused on Knox. “I’m pretty sure I know the answer, but I’m asking anyway. Have your blog stats changed since the podcast began?”

  “They’ve skyrocketed.” He’d attributed it to the newness of the podcast. Knox assumed the numbers would drop back soon.

  “No surprise there. Here’s my proposal—we want to tape you.”

  Riley cocked his head to the side. “You already do.”

  “I mean on film. We want people to be able to watch you do Naked Men.”

  Griffin pushed back his chair. Gripped the table edge and half rose out of his seat. “If you say that you want us to strip down for this, we’re done here. Walking out the door. I mean it.”

  His yelling-at-a-cadet face didn’t seem to phase her. Instead, Lara tossed back her hair and laughed. “There’s good naked and bad naked. Sitting in leather chairs that squeak and make puckery noises every time you move—that’s bad naked. Clothing would definitely be required.”

  “Would we have to shave?” Josh asked.

  “I doubt we’ll put in any sort of uniform clause. Just tell me what you think.”

  He might not be their official team captain anymore, but Griff still spoke for the group. “I think you’re not getting an answer today.”

  “That’s better than a straight-out no, so I’ll take it. Think it over. Talk it over. There’s no rush. Except that, there is, because you’re riding one hell of a wave of positive publicity right now. Capitalizing on it would be major. We could get sponsors. That would put more money in your pockets.”

  Lara patted Knox on the shoulder as she sashayed to the door. “Glad you’ve got a hard head. It’s too pretty to be permanently dented.”

  After the door snicked shut, they all sat in silence for a minute. Then for another minute, and another after that. Nobody seemed to want to go first. Knox, however, really did want that celebratory beer, so he spread his hands, backs on the table. “Well?”

  Riley shot out of his chair. Started pacing the room. “This is fucking insane. We’re not actors. We’re not B-list celebrities doing a talk show. We don’t know how to look at a camera, or look interesting, for that matter.”

  “We know how to look goooood.” Josh drew out the word, then shook his head. “Had to be said.”

  “We’ve spent years trying to walk away from fame.”

  Knox didn’t dispute that. But he did have the germ of an idea. “As Madison pointed out so damn bluntly at the ballpark, we did walk right into this contract. Knowingly. It was shortsighted of us, but we did it. Remember why?”

  “We thought it’d be fun,” Josh said with a shoulder shrug.

  Riley stopped the pacing. “We thought it’d give us a broader reach to help people.”

  “Exactly. What if we used this opportunity to help people? Take that extra cash they’re going to throw our way and give it to a charity? Or start one? Something personal to us, something that harkens back to the beginning of Naked Men?”

  From the dawning awareness on Ry’s face, he got it. His jaw hinged open halfway. Slammed shut. Then, with a slow nod, he said, “To the crash, you mean. Getting seatbelts on buses.”

  Maybe a seatbelt would’ve kept Santos from dying. Maybe not. But every year bus crashes were in the news, and people died. It’d be nice to put some time, effort, and cash into fixing that problem. “We talked about it years ago. Back then, we were too young to know how to tackle this. But now we could. With a platform like this, we could make a difference.”

  “It’d mean more press,” Griffin warned. “Lots of it.”

  Josh sucked in a long breath. Stood, apparently just to jam his hands into his pockets. “We’d need Logan’s buy-in.”

  “Of course.” Knox wouldn’t have it any other way. “We can stall them until he gets back. If we want to do it.”

  Griffin stood, too. They were back in their loose circle they always somehow formed for serious conversations. Because that’s what they were. A continuous circle. No head, no tail, all equal. “No vote now. We should think about it. Think about the impact on o
ur lives. Weigh that against the impact we could make on others’.”

  Knox couldn’t wait to tell Madison.

  And what the hell did that mean?

  Chapter 18

  Madison slipped off her shoes. She assumed Knox didn’t want his roommates to know that he’d texted her to come over at nine-thirty on a Tuesday night. That could mean only one of two things: either a booty call, or lingering concussion symptoms. He’d hidden the worst of his ongoing headaches from his friends. Claimed he didn’t want anyone worrying about him. And yet he didn’t mind her fussing over him and holding ice to his head. In fact, he insisted that it helped more than all the aspirin in the world.

  The booty call? Well, they didn’t need to know about that either.

  So she padded up the wooden stairs of the rectory in bare feet. Listened at the second-floor landing for signs of life, but heard only silence. Same at the third floor. Which boded very well for their getting vocal if it was a booty call. She picked up her pace for the last flight. Sunday’s talk with the girls had put butterflies—and doubts, if she was honest with herself—in Madison’s stomach. The dinner with the ACSs that night had been great. Oodles of fun and hilarity. They absolutely accepted her as part of their group.

  Would that truly last if Knox broke up with her? Madison wanted to say yes. Heck, she wanted to jump up, a fist in the air, and shout yes. But she didn’t know for certain. Not anymore. She’d spent a good portion of the night second-guessing every comment, every touch, every gesture from Knox.

  The good news was that everything had seemed normal. He’d been the dictionary definition of an attentive boyfriend—even more so considering he had so little practice at it. There’d been lots of casual touching. Hand-holding. Big, smacking kisses in front of his friends. No sign that his interest was on the wane.

  No sex, though. True, the doctors had banned him from it for a week. All strenuous exercise, actually, which had led to a hysterical conversation of Knox informing the doctor that if sex wasn’t strenuous then he wasn’t pulling his weight. Hilarious because the doctor was a woman, easily in her sixties, who nodded briskly and then informed him that with his mindset, even masturbation was off the table.