by Lyn, Viki
“Yeah, okay, but you stay in your room.” He half-teased because a part of him wanted Graham in every way possible.
Graham waggled his eyebrows. “Only if you don’t invite me into yours.”
Chris’s heart did a two-step at Graham’s suggestion. That was exactly his desire, but did he have the balls to move forward despite his doubts?
Graham stroked Chris’s hand. “You know we’re going to go there, so relax and let it happen naturally. Today you’ll take me to some galleries. From what I see on your walls, you have great taste, and I need to buy a present for Jillian.”
“Jillian?”
“My assistant. I’d marry her if I were straight.” He chuckled. “She doesn’t take my shit. Like I said, she’s the reason I’m here.”
The implication that Graham would marry Jillian made Chris a bit jealous, even though he knew it was absurd. He had no boyfriend rights over Graham. They’d known each other barely a week.
“This is a forced vacation,” Graham said. “Like I told you. She made the reservation and threatened to quit if I didn’t go.”
“So there is someone immune to your charm,” Chris said. “I like her already.”
“I hope it’s an empty threat. The thought of losing her leaves me cold.”
Chris patted Graham’s hand. He knew how hard it would be to replace Josh. “I’m sure it was, but to be safe, you better buy her something extra special. Guilt might keep her a few more years.”
“I knew you’re as devious as me. You just hide it well.” Graham stood and reached for their empty plates. “I’ll clean as promised.”
“No, I can—”
“I said I’d do it.”
Chris took the dish from Graham. “I’ll just come in and reload the dishwasher and wipe down the counters again. Sit and let me handle the cleanup.”
“God, you are a control freak.” Graham shook his head but sat back down. “But hey, it’s your house, your rules.”
As Chris cleared the table, he asked, “Do you have an artist in mind?”
“I like the painting over your fireplace in the living room.”
“I bought that when I reopened Secretus.”
Chris couldn’t agree more with Graham’s choice. Henry Latimer was an internationally acclaimed artist. “The artist is an old friend. He’s pretty famous.”
“Sweet. I’d like to go see his work.”
“I’ll call and see if he’s in town. A warning though, his art ain’t cheap.”
Graham grinned. “I can afford it.”
“If you’re so rich, then why do you have to purchase Freedom Press?” Chris slapped his hand over his mouth. Oh, shit.
Graham’s eyes narrowed, his nostrils flared. “How do you know about that? We’re still in negotiations.”
Chris swallowed hard. They were getting along, having fun, but again his temperament had ruined the moment. He let out a sigh. Maybe it was better to have everything out in the open before he got more entangled in this relationship. The “business is not personal” attitude of Graham’s would always be a sore point between them.
“This is what EAN does. Monitor anti-LGBTQ companies. Nothing is a secret. Not even your sexuality. What amazes me is how a gay man can sell out like that. Buying a right-wing publication that supports anti-gay legislation. That hurts our community.”
“I’m responsible for people’s livelihoods. I answer to my family and the board. My position is to do everything possible to shore up Winter Media’s finances and grow our position.”
“While hiding who you are. Is that the life you want? If you come out, you can be a role model. You could do so much with your influence. Don’t you see you’re not just hurting yourself by hiding?”
Graham stood so fast the chair fell loudly to the floor. “Dammit, Chris. Get off your self-righteous soapbox. I’m doing the best I can. You have no right to judge me. Yeah, I’m gay. Yeah, I’m not out. That’s my fucking business!”
“Not when it affects others.”
But Graham already was out the back door, the screen slamming shut.
Oh crap. Chrissy, I’ve warned you about that quick tongue of yours. Think before you speak.
“Shut up, Pete!” He didn’t need the reminder of what an a-hole he was for ragging on Graham about his principals. He might as well have thrown ice water over their fledgling relationship.
With a heavy sigh, he tossed the dishtowel he’d been clutching into the sink. His heart was doing crazy kicks in his chest. Sick was how he felt at hurting Graham, thumping him with words that were sharp as steel-edged knives.
You did it now, Christopher. You need to apologize.
Bob’s words of wisdom were not what he wanted to hear.
The young man has a point. Everyone has his timeline when deciding to come out. You need to respect Graham’s situation.
He covered his ears, hoping to shut out his dad’s voice. Why be scolded for saying what he believed in? Pete and Bob had always drilled into him that he needed to stand up for his beliefs. Didn’t Graham have a moral obligation to the LGBTQ community? People hiding behind lies only fueled inequality.
Now was not the time to give in to sentiment. This relationship would have been a disaster. It was better this way. Now Graham could move out. Chris would assign him to another valet. He would never have to cross paths with Graham again.
Chrissy, listen to Bob. I know it can be exhausting, but he’s right on this one.
Chris went to his office and buried himself in paperwork. Instead of concentrating, he stared out the window, squinting from the bright sunlight. Last night’s storm had disappeared as swiftly as it had arrived, leaving behind clear skies. It would have been a perfect day to visit the galleries, maybe have lunch at Nepenthe.
Fuck it.
He picked up the phone and pushed the memorized contact. “Hello, Latty. It’s Chris. Can I bring a guest by to see your work today or tomorrow?”
After the call, he sat back. Josh could take Graham but Henry could rub people the wrong way. Better if he went instead. What feeble excuse. Honestly, for as long as Graham was here, he wanted to be the one to show him the sights. He enjoyed Graham’s company, and Graham wasn’t an annoyance. Chris liked their routine, liked being around this irritating but wonderful guy.
Three rapid knocks shook his office door. Chris closed the lid of his laptop and called out. “Come in. It’s open.”
Another thing he forgot to do, lock the door to keep Graham out. Not that Chris wanted that. And sure enough, guess who walked in.
Graham’s presence took up the doorway. His hair was windblown and his face ruddy from being outdoors. This usually confident man looked down at his wringing hands. “I think it’s best if I take Josh up on that room.”
Chris didn’t want Graham to leave, not yet, not before they… He ran his hand through his hair. “There’s no need to move.”
“It’s obvious you don’t want me here.”
“Not true!” He needed to clear the air between them or else he might lose Graham. “I’m sorry. I had no right to call you out. And you’re right. I have no idea how to run a megacorporation. And I can be a self-righteous prick at times—”
“Don’t apologize.” Graham drummed his fingers on his thigh, his eyes cast down. “I got angry because you hit a sore spot. While I feel responsible for those who work for me, it comes at a very steep price. My self-respect.” He looked back at Chris. “I don’t like Freedom Press any more than you do, but I have an obligation to the company.” Looking long and hard at Chris, Graham didn’t back down from the uncomfortable silence between them. “Can we put this whole thing behind us? Start over again?”
Chris came to a decision. In another week Graham would be gone. There was no question of having a long-term commitment, so why not enjoy each other until then? He would cast aside his soapbox for now. Yeah, it was a risk to his heart, but he was sick of staying within the confines of his self-imposed life. “I can live with that
but you know we’re going to argue again.”
“Yeah, but making up could be fun.” Graham picked up a framed photograph from Chris’s desk. The picture showed Chris with Pete and Bob on the beach in Greece.
“Ah, I was a scrawny kid, awkward.” Chris hated photographs of himself but the trips to Greece with his dads held good memories so he kept the photo on his desk as a reminder of the good times.
“And beautiful. Did you get bullied in school because of it?”
“Yeah, I had my share of beatings. Until Pete enrolled me in judo, then the beatings stopped. Bullies are cowards. They don’t like being the victim.”
Graham set down the frame but kept staring at the photograph. “I would never intentionally bully anyone.”
“But I bet you didn’t stop your friends with the gay slurs?” Chris groaned. Couldn’t he keep his big mouth shut for once?
Graham let the barb go. “I pretended it didn’t bother me, and I’m not proud of it. But I was a confused teen and scared. Just like you.”
“But you didn’t stay scared.”
Graham took the seat next to Chris where they faced eye-to-eye. “How old are you?”
“Twenty-six. Why?”
“You run a successful five-star resort while most guys your age are sleeping with every available guy who comes around, trying to find themselves. I’d say you have your shit together. I respect that.” Graham cupped Chris’s chin. “You have no reason to be scared anymore.”
Those words hit Chris deep in his core. Graham stood and pulled Chris up from his chair and kissed him. The sensation of melting began as soon as his lips touched Graham’s. Their groins met, generating heat between them. The rough texture of Graham’s cheek rubbed Chris’s skin but he liked the friction.
Graham nipped at Chris’s lower lip, teasing with his tongue. “So all’s forgiven?”
“You don’t play fair.”
Graham grinned and stepped out of their embrace. “I like spending time with you. I find you beautiful and smart. A great combo meal.”
“You are comparing me to a Big Mac?” Chris exaggerated a roll of the eyes. “I’m crushed.”
Graham licked his lips then laughed. “But hey, the sun is out. Let’s enjoy today. I’ll buy lunch, and no fast food, promise.”
As much as Chris wanted to take Graham into the bedroom first, he pulled away. The bed would be waiting for them when they both were ready. “I called Latty, ah, Henry. He’s the artist you like. Do you want to visit his studio today?”
“Yeah, that would be great.”
Chris grabbed his car keys from the top drawer of his desk. “I’m driving.” He faked a shiver. “I want to live another day.”
As they walked out, Graham bumped shoulders. “Hey, could you take me down? You know. With a judo move?”
Chris grinned at the challenge in Graham’s eyes. “Yeah, in a heartbeat.”
“That’s fucking hot, but I’m not sure I believe you.” Graham took Chris in the crook of his arm and roughed up his hair. Memories of bullies knuckling Chris’s head rose up, and suddenly he had Graham on the ground and in an arm lock. Easing up on his hold, he smiled at his captive. “Now do you believe me?”
“Ow. Ow. Uncle!”
Chris released Graham and brushed his jeans. “I let you off easy.”
Graham sat up and rubbed his arm. Sheepishly, Chris reached for Graham’s hand. “You’re okay? Let me help you up.”
Warily eyeing Chris, Graham took up his offer of help. “Hey, so my fantasy was hotter than reality.”
Chris kissed Graham’s cheek. “Yeah, maybe we’ll have to do something about that.”
Swinging his arm around Chris’s shoulders, Graham asked, “So I’m staying?”
Trapped but liking it, Chris shrugged. “I guess so. Or until our next argument.” Because there would be other disagreements, yet Chris had learned something about Graham today. Despite their differences, Graham remained by his side. That had never happened before with a lover. Usually his firecracker temper and his need for control squashed any budding relationships. In Graham, he’d found a friend, and if things went well today, maybe something even better would happen tonight.
12
Graham followed Chris down the wooden stairway leading to Henry Latimer’s home. Rather than being perched on a high cliff, ready to take flight, the house sat on a lower bluff overlooking the ocean. The stairway forked midway down the side, one path leading to Henry’s front door and the other to a private beach.
The redwood house was weathered into a warm gray, surrounded by large-paned windows and a line of seashell wind chimes hanging from the eaves. The tinkling sound of the chimes enhanced the laid-back atmosphere. Graham envisioned the artist as a bohemian hippy, a throwback from the Summer of Love generation.
When the door opened, and Henry greeted them, Graham’s breath caught in his throat. This man was no hippy. His buzz cut shone as gold as the sunlight bearing down on Henry’s head. Eyes too blue to be real—the artist had to be wearing contacts. Those incredible eyes led Graham’s line of vision to the hawklike nose. Shrewd was the first word that came to Graham’s mind. He’d have to consider his words when he spoke to Henry, especially since Chris had warned him that the artist tended to be brusque in his manner.
Henry took up the door frame with his broad chest and long legs. “Great to see you, Chris.” His gaze burned into Graham with a silent stare, the artist’s muscular arms crossed, his tatted biceps bulging from his tank. “So who is this yo-yo?”
Graham drew himself up, ready to snap back, but Chris stepped between them and made the introductions. “Latty, this is Graham Winter, the guest I told you about. He’s interested in your work.”
So the guy warranted a nickname. That was just great. Now Graham had to be on his best behavior with this asshole.
Henry embraced Chris in a massive bear hug. “It’s about time you came out of your cave.” He ruffled Chris’s hair with his big paw. “You’re looking good there, sport.”
Instead of scowling, Chris beamed at the artist. That rare smile usually sent a thrill through Graham, but not when aimed at another guy. He gripped Chris’s shoulder. When Chris glanced at him with a puzzled look, he let up the pressure.
“I’m interested in seeing your work.” Graham kept his tone even, and very challenging to do with such a tense jaw. Not that he planned to buy even a damn postcard from this artist.
Henry said, slyly, “For a spot above your sofa? Let me guess.” He stroked his goatee. “You have East Coast written all over you. Black leather couch, glass tables, penthouse view of the city skyline.”
Graham gritted his teeth at the bastard’s judgmental attitude. “You don’t look the type to create sofa art. And I’m not the type to buy it.”
Henry winked at Chris. “Maybe he’s redeemable. Follow me, then.” He casually placed his hand on Chris’s back. “I have your favorite coffee. Why don’t you make a cup? I’ll take Mr. Winter upstairs.”
Chris leaned into Henry and whispered, but Graham heard him all too clear. “Be nice.” Then in a normal tone, Chris said, “I’ll wait for you here.”
If Graham had his way, they wouldn’t be staying long enough for coffee. Further disturbing was the fact that Chris headed straight to the correct cupboard in the kitchen, as if he had been there a thousand times before.
A sour taste bit the back of Graham’s throat at the thought of this artist fucking Chris. Henry didn’t have an effervescent personality, but like it or not, the artist had sex appeal. And Chris… Well, Chris was beautiful, adorable at times, and even his neurosis endeared him to Graham. Other guys had to see Chris in the same vein, setting their sights on such a catch. Why wouldn’t they? Especially since Chris owned a piece of real estate worth millions. Graham had his share of men after his money, and so would Chris. Yet this artist was successful and didn’t come off as a gold digger.
Graham followed Henry up a steep flight of stairs that led to a spacious roo
m. Sunlight hit him full blast in the face. No doubt this was a painter’s paradise. The windows bathed the room in natural light. Jars of paints, brushes, and bolts of canvas littered tables and the floor. Bookshelves bulged with various-size art books. On the wall were paintings in different stages of completion. The room reeked of turpentine and oils, not an unpleasant smell.
One painting caught Graham’s attention, and he moved in closer for a better view. The nude figure was tastefully rendered, and fuck, he recognized the scars.
“Yeah, that’s Chris. He posed for me a while ago.”
Graham clenched his hands because this was an intimate pose and damn, it was an amazing painting. While Henry had captured Chris’s vulnerability, he also captured his immense strength by using strong lines and textures.
“And it’s not for sale,” Henry said, gruffly.
“Didn’t think it was.” But fuck, Graham would have given his company shares for this painting. The thought of Henry having Chris’s nude portrait in his studio didn’t set well, but he buried his jealousy knowing it would serve no purpose in getting along with the artist.
Beside the nude, most of the artist’s compositions were ocean landscapes but not your typical images. Waves broke in chaos; skies were thick, textured; cliffs were rocky and steep. Despite the dark values, Henry’s paintings had a hopeful quality that lured a person into the artist’s imaginative world, and Graham was fascinated.
He pointed to the painting in front of him. “Is this for sale?”
“What are your intentions with Chris?”
The hair on Graham’s arms prickled. What the hell was this asshole’s problem? “That’s between Chris and me.”
“Fuck that shit. It’s my business. I’m the closest person left in his life. I researched you on the Net. I’ve seen the long list of women you dated. You’re a closeted fuck. Does Chris know, because he’s all about being out and proud? Why would he fuck with someone who doesn’t give a shit about our people?”
