Articles by "Sapphire Cay"



The Book


Feuding families, unearthed secrets, and a violent storm threatens the Cay. Will the idyllic island with her cast of characters make it through unscathed? It’s time for the circle to close on the story of Sapphire Cay, and on the men who have lived and found love on her beaches.

Join characters old and new as we celebrate Dylan and Lucas’s wedding and delve into the history of Sapphire Cay.

Connor and Shaun are directly related to Peter and Alfie, a couple whose clandestine lover affair was overshadowed by old prejudices and a world war. Shaun Jamieson is a writer, a romantic and needs to pen the story of the affair’s final secrets; Connor French’s family wants to stop Shaun.

When the two men step onto the sands of Sapphire Cay, they find more than just the secrets of an old love. They find hope and comfort in each other. But with the past hanging over them, can they ever have what Peter and Alfie could not? Or are they just as ill-fated as their ancestors?

Word Count:
40,350
Cover Artist:
Meredith Russell
Editor:
Susan Ann Kedlec
ISBN:
978-1-78564-020-9
Genre:
Contemporary, MM Romance


Buy Links



Amazon (US) | Amazon (UK)All RomanceSmashwordsKobo | Barnes & Noble | iTunes


Reviews



Multi Tasking Mommas - 4/5 - "....Two stories, one that makes you laugh, the other makes us smile with tears in our eyes. Both are sweetly written. Both worth the while to sleep and dream over later...."

Sexy Erotic Xciting - 5/5 - "....Forever in the Sun is a sensual read with charismatic characters, beautiful words and an enchanting setting. Allow yourself the moment to relax with one of the most amorous series written, on an island paradise that will have you believing in true happily-ever-after’s...."

 Excerpt


Chapter 1

Lucas ducked out of the way and cursed as a paper plane curved back on itself and missed him by inches. Dylan was bored and he was showing his displeasure at having to wait in a myriad different ways. First off he’d read the two most recent magazines; one on home design, the other a gossip rag. Then he’d gone out and bought coffee, back out to buy muffins, before disappearing to find somewhere to recycle the cups.

Usually the most laid back person Lucas had ever met, Dylan hated being inside and this was the result. He was a kid with nothing to do, and he was restless.

“Sorry,” Dylan said. He wasn’t sorry given the fact he was now making a new plane out of a sheet from the home design magazine. Lucas placed a hand over his fiancé’s and stopped the making of said plane.

“He’ll be back in a minute,” Lucas reassured Dylan.

“You said that ten minutes ago,” Dylan grumped. He sighed noisily. “What if he’s back there looking at what we gave him and he thinks there is a problem?”

Lucas had heard all this before. To be honest he was just as anxious, but he couldn’t afford to let himself get antsy like Dylan—he didn’t think his ulcer would thank him very much for it. Instead, he was channeling his worries into being the exact opposite of how he really felt.

“Like what?” he asked in a calm, patient tone.

Dylan slumped a little and shook his head. “I don’t know.”

Lucas sat forward in his chair. “Oh my God,” he said abruptly.

Dylan reacted with panic and sat bolt upright. “What?”

Lucas looked at Dylan. “What if they find out about my previous marriages?”

Dylan’s mouth fell open and Lucas had to duck again as Dylan made to smack him upside the head. “Asshole,” he muttered.

“Well, what could be a problem? Neither of us has been married before, we’re both free to marry. We’ve done everything we need to do. This is the last thing, the license.”

The door to the interior of the large dusty building opened with a resounding smack against the wall and a portly man made his way to them with an envelope in his hand. “My apologies,” he began. “The photocopier jammed and I had to wait for the tech to clear it.”

“No worries,” Lucas lied. He took the envelope, then he and Dylan exchanged the usual pleasantries with the officer who was very excited about their marriage and what it meant for gay men everywhere. Lucas wasn’t entirely sure he wanted to be an example to the world, but he nodded, agreed, and said all the right things. As they talked, Dylan edged toward the door, intent written on his features. He wanted outside, and Lucas was happy to follow.

Only when they were out in the sunshine did what they had just done finally sink in’. The license was the last piece of their jigsaw and now nothing was stopping Dylan and him from being married. Lucas pulled Dylan into a close hug and inhaled the outdoors that clung to his lover; sun and Dylan was the best scent and Lucas wondered how he had ever managed without it before.

“Nothing stopping us now,” he whispered.

Which was exactly the wrong thing to say. Dylan’s cell sounded and he answered the call immediately.

“Scott? Everything okay?”

Dylan kept walking and Lucas didn’t think anything of it. They were right at the start of the harbor that gave Marsh Harbor its name when abruptly Dylan stopped dead.

Shit, this can't be good. Lucas immediately went through every scenario that could involve Scott, and could stop the wedding, then quickly moved on to Adam, Scott’s lover and the chef at the Cay. Had there been another incident like the oven and fire? Was Adam ill? Was it Scott?

“How much?” Dylan said incredulously. “We agreed two less than that. I don’t understand how he can…damn…okay, we’ll go there now…” Dylan glanced at Lucas and seemed to reconsider. “No, fuck it, we’re coming home. I’ll deal with him later.”

Lucas waited until the call ended. Deal with whom? Talk of money implied this was about the new boat for Sapphire Cay, which Dylan was calling Liberty Two. The Cay needed two boats. Lucas wasn’t going to argue as it was mostly his idea to begin with. Transport to and from Sapphire Cay was Dylan’s responsibility, but Lucas was the one who worked on finance and logistics. His opinion was, having two boats was better than one.

“What happened?” he asked cautiously. Dylan looked halfway between angry and resigned.

“The seller upped his price by two thousand.”

Lucas’s mathematical mind quickly calculated where the hell they would get that money from at short notice. He identified a couple of places before speaking again. “Can he do that?”

Dylan curled a hand into his hair. “No. Yes. I don’t know.”

“Would you be happy to pay the extra two?”

“We’d have to if we want that boat. Or that is what Scott told me the seller said,” Dylan said immediately. “Doesn’t mean I want to. Typical this shit happens just before our wedding.” Dylan pressed fingers to his temples. “I don’t get why everything has to be so difficult at the moment, all I want is an easy life—“

“Dylan, stop.” Lucas could see Dylan winding himself up to a mini meltdown. What was wrong with his fiancé? Why was he so on edge with everything lately? Lucas was the stressy one normally. Was Dylan having second thoughts about the marriage? Dylan was the free spirit. It was Lucas who craved the forever to start with, but he knew Dylan had wanted marriage as much as he did.

“I can't,” Dylan ground out.

“Tell me what is difficult about this? We go to the seller and negotiate. We don’t have to have that particular boat.”

Dylan leaned back against the railing by the harbor coffee shop. “I like that boat.”

“Then we pay the extra.”

Dylan shook his head. “I don’t know if I like it that much. Two thousand.” He snorted a soft laugh and blew out a breath, like he was clearing away one of the problems running around in his head. “It’s fine I can look again after the wedding. Besides, we already need a new oven.”

“The oven and the fire are covered by insurance,” Lucas reminded him.

“And Ed sent the plans over for building the new reception area he came up with—“

“Which we budgeted for.” Lucas stepped up into Dylan’s space, bracketing him with his hands on the railings. “Dylan, what’s wrong? Are you having second thoughts?”

“No, you were right, we need a second boat.”

“Not about the boat, about us.”

Dylan looked horrified, a flash of something in his blue eyes, fear or wariness, Lucas couldn’t tell. “No. God, no. That’s about the one thing I am most sure about in my life.” Dylan cradled Lucas’s face with strong warm hands, and Lucas could swear there was moisture in Dylan’s eyes. “I just want everything to go right so that…”

Lucas hated the tone of Dylan’s voice. He sounded beaten and sad. “So that what?”

“So that you don’t change your mind about marrying a beach bum like me who drags nothing but crap around with him.”

For a second Lucas was speechless. Dylan was worried about that? “I love the man I found on the Cay,” he began. “And you’re not a beach bum. Like it or not, you have a business and responsibilities. Hell, we even have a dog.” He replayed the words. “And what exactly do you mean, crap follows you around?”

“My dad, my money, the boat, the fire in the kitchen, what else do you want me to add to the list?” Dylan stared right at Lucas, the emotion evident in his expression and filling his eyes.

“None of that is down to you, Dylan. And nothing that ever happened would scare me away.”

Dylan smiled. “And I love you, Lucas. I mean, whatever goes wrong, I will always love you.” Dylan pressed a kiss to Lucas’s lips and when he deepened the kiss it was like heaven.

“Break it up, boys,” Tasha called from behind them. Dylan and Lucas stood as they were for a second then separated and Lucas faced his sister. Twenty-one weeks pregnant, she was at that stage when she looked radiant, albeit a little flushed in the heat. She was in charge of a box of something that Ed had sent; cards or some such thing Ed deemed essential to the Lucas/Dylan wedding. Lucas didn’t ask what Ed had sent, he just went to her side and relieved her of the square, not so heavy, package.

“You should have stayed at the Cay,” Lucas admonished as she leaned against him briefly.

“Because I’m hot and waddling like a duck? I'm okay. Did you get the license?”

“Yes, and you’re not waddling. You look gorgeous.” Lucas hugged her briefly.

Tasha smiled up at him. “You say the nicest things, big brother, but I’m hot and tired and ready to go back now.”

Dylan jumped down into the Lady Liberty. He held out a hand and, between him and Lucas they assisted Tasha onto the boat. They helped to keep her steady and fussed until she was sitting as comfortably as she could under the small canopy. She’d demanded to come with them this afternoon, saying she needed to pick something up that she’d ordered herself. Lucas didn’t see another package, but she was carrying a large floral bag that, for all he knew, contained the kitchen sink, it was that voluminous. Liam hadn’t been overly happy with her going to Marsh Harbor but he’d backed off when his pregnant wife treated him to a discussion on why she should go and why he should stop fussing. Also, he was helping with some kind of project Jamie was working on. Lucas knew damn well Liam would be standing on the jetty waiting for them though, probably with water and fruit and an adoring expression. Lucas had never seen a man so much in love with his wife.

Now just over halfway through her pregnancy, Tasha had had her twenty-week scan. To everyone’s relief, everything was as it should be. Though Lucas knew she could most likely fly if they had waited until the season ended, he was glad they had picked March for the wedding. His and Dylan’s honeymoon might be the shortest honeymoon in history, with a wedding booked in only three days after theirs. But at least he didn’t have to worry about Tasha, heavily pregnant on planes and boats, or the predictably unpredictable weather of the summer season. He didn’t think he could have handled the stress or the worry. Slotting their wedding in the space between bookings had been the right thing to do, even if organizing it had sent Edward into some sort of wedding planner Terminator mode with such a tight deadline.

To make up for having no time after the wedding Dylan had suggested a late honeymoon to visit when she was due, but that had been nixed immediately. She was a different woman to the one who had announced she was pregnant at Christmas. She was confident and happy and said it made more sense for Lucas and his new husband to visit at the end of the Cay’s off-season after the baby was born. She insisted she had all the help she needed and any time Dylan and Lucas had before the birth would be better spent on a real honeymoon, just the two of them. Lucas wasn’t going to argue with his sister and Dylan talked him down off the ledge about missing the new baby’s birth. Still, nothing would stop him seeing the new arrival as soon as it all happened. For now he needed to enjoy having Tasha and Liam here for the wedding.

Dylan’s dad was slowly becoming another unneeded stress for Lucas. He wondered if, in part, it was the arrival of Dylan’s father two days ago, with his new wife in tow, that was contributing to Dylan getting all worked up and worried. After all, Dylan had included his dad on the list of crap he’d mentioned. The old man was happy with Rebecca and spent a lot of the time cornering Dylan and talking at him. Not to him. At him. About all kinds of things. Investments, the future, a family. No doubt he’d spoken of the wedding as well but one thing Dylan Senior didn’t do was talk to Lucas much at all. He wasn’t warm like he was with his new wife or Dylan.

Lucas guessed Dylan’s father had things to say to him, but couldn’t figure out how to say them, and so had been avoiding Lucas like the plague.

Also, the man was causing trouble here and there by wanting to be extra helpful. There had been some kind of run in yesterday between him and Adam. The upshot was that the main oven had burned circuits and the kitchen was soaked from the sprinklers. Something about Dylan’s dad messing with timers and melted cheese. Lucas had tried to stay out of it for Dylan’s sake, but it had taken a long time to calm Adam down, and for Scott to get Adam to rethink the wedding menu in the new parameters.

At least he could count on Edward to get the wedding under control, organizing everyone and everything. That way in four days time there would actually be a wedding. Lucas hoped that between now and then he didn’t thump Dylan’s dad, who seemed to think he knew a lot about a whole bunch of non-important things, beginning with the melting point of cheese.

“You okay?” Tasha asked. “You’re in your own world.”

Lucas squeezed his sister’s hand. “I’m good. Thinking about the wedding, and the island, and the baby.”

“Let me worry about the baby,” Tasha teased. “And you focus on the wedding. The Cay can look after itself.”

As the Liberty made her way toward Sapphire Cay, Lucas watched Dylan at the helm. Dylan was still the same person that Lucas fell in love with. Denim shorts and a scruffy tee, dark hair with the blond streaks just too long to be tamed, eyes so blue he could lose himself in them. Whatever obstacle they had to overcome, there were only four days to go until they were married.

Lucas was counting down the hours.



Chapter 2

“Okay, nobody panic.” Dylan stood very still and held out his hands indicating for everyone to do the same. He assessed the scene in the kitchen and felt the grip of foreshadowing in his chest. He tried to push the thought from his mind. This wasn’t any kind of omen. It was an accident. Today was going to be perfect. Well, almost perfect. “How did this happen? And for the love of God, please tell me Edward doesn’t know?”

Adam ran his hands back through his hair and cursed under his breath. “Edward’s going to kill us.”

“Bloody hell and bollocks.” Scott rested his hand on Adam’s shoulder and smirked.

Not impressed with Scott’s attempt to lighten the mood, Adam slapped away his hand. “Watch yourself or I’ll tell Edward this is your fault.” He pointed at the destroyed wedding cake.

Scott was quick to protest, “It’s not my fault.”

Adam didn’t look convinced.

“It’s nobody’s fault.” Dylan chewed on his lip. Or maybe it was his. Crap. He glanced at the cake, then at Adam and Scott. They could figure something out between them, right? Scott shrugged his shoulders and Adam looked flustered.

Bollocks, indeed.

There was no time to deal with this. He was getting married in less than three hours.

“Scott, can you grab Mutt, please?”

Mutt lifted his head at the sound of his name. The dog’s face was covered in white frosting, and he twisted his head as he tried to lick the sugary goodness from his snout. Shaking his head, Mutt looked up at Dylan with wide innocent eyes, a trick Dylan was sure Lucas had a hand in teaching him for getting away with, in this case, cake murder. Scott reached for Mutt, grabbing the animal by his collar and pulling him away from what was quite the massacre.

“Can we save anything?”

“Half the bottom tier. Maybe,” Adam said. He nodded to what was left of the three tier cake sitting on the trolley. From the trail of evidence, Mutt had jumped up and started on the bottom layer of the cake before knocking the pillars, collapsing the top two tiers on top of himself.

Dylan eyed the square cake. They could totally cut off the section covered in dog drool, right? Nobody would know, and it wasn’t like they needed all three layers. They didn’t have that many guests, not really. “Okay. I guess we could try saving it.” Could they? Really? He eyed Mutt. Maybe it was best they scrapped the whole thing. If anyone was going to find a dog hair in their slice, it would be Edward. “Maybe we could...”

“What?” Adam asked.

He had no idea. “You’ll think of something.”

Enthusiastically, Scott suggested, “Cupcakes. We have time for those, right?”

Disbelief creased Adam’s brow. “I’m going to start with B, whereby to cook, cool, and frost, what? Fifty plus cupcakes? Is not as quick and easy as you think, not when I have everything else to organize.” Adam screwed his hands into fists as he spoke. “And let’s go back to A, more importantly, I still don’t have an oven.” He raised his voice.

Scott caught his balance as Mutt lurched forward. The man wore the reprimanded school boy look pretty damn well. “Can you not stick them in the microwave?”

Adam opened his mouth and quickly shut it. He tilted his head as if considering the option. “No. We’re not making microwave cakes.” He shuddered at the sacrilegious idea Scott had put forward.

“What about Dominiq?” someone said from behind Dylan.

Dylan looked over his shoulder at Jamie. Panic gripped his chest as he searched past Jamie for any sign of Edward. “Where’s Ed?”

“Checking strings of lights.” Jamie eyed the cake on the floor. “And no, I’m not telling him about this.”

Not even the super-calming effect of Edward’s boyfriend would stop the wedding planner going nuclear if he found out what had happened to his beautifully designed cake.

“So what about Dominiq?” Jamie suggested again. “He wouldn’t have left Marsh Harbor yet. If he hasn’t time to bake, he could probably buy something as a stand in.”

“Yeah, yeah. That could work.” Dylan nodded with each word. They had roughly three hours to the ceremony. The ride from Marsh Harbor to the Cay was around fifty minutes. There was still time to fix all this, somehow. “Okay, marine, you’re in charge of Operation Cake.” He looked firmly at Jamie. “I want you to get on the phone to Dominiq and fix this mess. Whatever it takes, whatever it ends up costing me. Once you’ve done that, you’re on Edward watch. Under no circumstances does he enter this kitchen.”

Jamie nodded, turned on his heel, and headed for the office to make the call.

“Adam, you do whatever the hell it is you do. Is there anything you need? Any more staff need sending through?”

With a smile, Adam assured him everything was fine, apart from the obvious. “Everything is running to plan. Well, everything else.” His gaze briefly fell to the destroyed cake. “I am so sorry.”

“We can all be sorry later.” Dylan flashed a smile and tried to ignore the nagging doubt he had over who was to blame. Was he supposed to have been watching Mutt?

“What about me?” Scott asked.

“You’re on cleanup. Mutt, then the kitchen. I don’t want Lucas finding out, so be sneaky, yeah?”

“Well, I’ll try. But you know what he’s like. He’s almost as bad as Edward when it comes to checking on things.”

That was true, and also scary. During the whole wedding organization, it was like Dylan had been seeing double and hearing everything in stereo. Dylan would happily have turned up in board shorts on the day, married on the beach, just the two of them, and lived happily ever after. But as Edward and Lucas had reminded him, they were only going to be doing this once. Lucas deserved to have the wedding he wanted, surrounded by people who loved him.

Lucas couldn’t find out about this. Not yet. He’d think it was some kind omen of doom for the rest of their day, for their future. No, today was going to be amazing and perfect and a day to remember only for good reasons. He knew what he had to do.

“It’s okay. I’ll just have to bring in the reinforcements,” he said.

Scott quirked an eyebrow.

“Tasha.”



* * * * *



There was a gentle knock, and Lucas smiled as Tasha slowly pushed open the door.

“Are you decent?” she asked and pushed the door a little farther. “Wow.” She stopped in the doorway and looked her brother up and down. “You look amazing.”

Lucas took a deep breath and turned to look in the full-length mirror. “You’ve seen me in suits before.” He had worn plenty during his years at Morgan Municipal.

“Never one on your wedding day.” A smile lit her face as she moved behind him, reaching around to straighten his tie.

She was dressed in blue. A deep shade to match that of his and Dylan’s ties. The short strapless dress hugged her high on her waist accentuating her full bust, then hung loose over her baby bump. Gently, she rested her hands on Lucas’s shoulders and met his eyes in the mirror.

“I’m so proud of you.”

Resting his hand on hers, Lucas turned around. “I can’t believe this is really happening.”

She squeezed her hand around his. “I never doubted it. Dylan would do anything for you. Even settle down and stay in one place.”

Lucas laughed and shook his head. “I didn’t mean him.”

Tasha gazed up at him. She studied his face as if looking for an answer to her unvoiced question.

“Just… a few years ago I never imagined any of this could be possible. I mean, I was working every hour of the day. That was my life. Not this.” He looked down onto the beach through the open window. A warm breeze caused the light material of the drapes to blow up and carried with it the smell of ocean. Something Lucas would always associate with all the best bits of Dylan; his strong arms, his warm embrace, his smile, and his kiss. How could he have ever imagined this life? It was so far away from anything he had been living back then.

“But you’re happy, right?”

With a smile, he said, “So happy.” He’d been in an office working late every night, barely had any time for himself, let alone for Tasha, or to think about dating, marriage, making a real home with someone. He hadn’t been living, not actually. Money and contracts had been his life, making other people rich. He had done it for Tasha and nearly worked himself into an early grave just to see her happy and financially secure. She had been his world, his everything, after their parents died. But now, she was starting her own family, had a husband who would give her the world if she asked for it. She didn’t need him, not the way she used to. Lucas would never stop worrying about his baby sister. Nor would he regret the years he put into Morgan Municipal to see her through school and into a job she loved. Anyway, now it was his turn to be looked after, by a man who loved him.

“I’m hungry.” Tasha rubbed her hand over her rounded stomach. She glanced at Lucas, clearly aware she had disturbed thoughts deeper than hers of food.

It wasn’t just the scent of the ocean riding in on the breeze. Every now and then the smoky scent of cooking meat permeated up to the hotel as fat hit heat. With the oven out of action, Edward had suggested a hog roast on the beach—pork, rolls, potato salad. If Lucas was honest, he preferred the roast to the four-course menu Edward had worked with Adam to create. Informal was better, more them, more Dylan.

What was going through Dylan’s head right then? Did he have the same butterflies in his stomach as Lucas?

In ninety minutes, he would be Mr. Madison-Gray. Or maybe Gray-Madison. Were they even doing that? The whole double-barrel thing? Or were they staying as they were? Maybe they should pick one surname. Lucas Gray. He chewed on his lip. Dylan Madison.

“Are you okay?”

Lucas nodded. He had to stop finding things to obsess over. He’d been banned from stalking staff around and checking in with Edward every five minutes. Apparently, today was his day and it wasn’t his job to worry about anything. Despite having been threatened with being locked inside his room, Lucas had snuck out to help set up the fire pit to cook the pig, then liaised with Scott over picking up guests coming into Marsh Harbor that morning. Guests including Dylan’s ex Mitch and his (Lucas thought they were official) boyfriend Isaac. Others like Dominiq and his family, and various people Dylan knew off the main island, who owned boats, were making their own way to Sapphire Cay throughout the day.

Everybody he had spoken to, before being shooed to his room to relax with a breakfast of fruits and a glass of champagne, had assured him everything was going like clockwork. He just couldn’t help but think that it was inevitable one of the cogs in said clock was going to wriggle itself free and cause chaos.

“Maybe I should go and make sure everyone’s okay.”

“Why?”

“Well, you know, they might need help with something.”

“Who?” Tasha stared at him.

Lucas shrugged. “Just, people.” He took her hand in his. “I want it to be perfect. I want everybody to have a good day.”

“And that’s what your lovely staff is here for.” She smiled encouragingly. “This isn’t just another wedding on the Cay. This is your wedding.”

“I guess.” He eyed the door. “It wouldn’t hurt to check though.” He pulled his hands from hers and headed for the door.

“Oh.” Tasha grabbed his elbow and nursed her stomach.

Panic gripped Lucas. “What? What is it? Are you okay? Is the baby okay?” When Tasha chuckled, his fears were allayed. “What?” He held her arm until she was seated comfortably at the end of the bed. He looked her up and down. She didn’t seem worried, but he stood in front of her, waiting to hear her say the words.

“I think it’s just gas.” She teased her lower lip between her teeth. “Come and sit down.” She patted space on the bed beside her.

Lucas glanced over his shoulder at the door, his chance for escape slipping away. With a sigh, he sat next to her. Warmth filled him as she bumped her shoulder against his, then lifted his hand into her lap.

“The last time we sat in this room together was on my wedding day. The day a certain gorgeous sun-kissed boat guy strolled into the room with a camera and stole your heart.”

That day felt so long ago, but he still remembered that first sight of Dylan at the pier herding Tasha’s wedding party from the airport and onto the Lady Liberty. “You looked beautiful.” The same pride he had felt then surged within him. He leaned in and kissed her cheek. “Still do.”

Tasha grinned. “Even with swollen ankles and bags under my eyes?”

“Especially the swollen ankles.” He glanced down, light catching the diamanté jewels on the straps of her sandals.

“Not sure Liam thinks the same.” She massaged her bump. “He’s been amazing, listening to me complain all the time. Too hot, too cold, too fat, too swollen, too stiff. And God, the cravings.”

She looked at him. Love lit her eyes. Liam was a good husband, and they were happy. Idly, she ran her hand over her plaited hair, and gently straightened the large blue flower she wore in her hair. “I actually have something for you,” she said.

Lucas smiled in encouragement. She looked a little nervous.

“I was thinking about Mom and Dad and what today could have meant to them as well.” She reached into a bag he hadn’t spotted her bringing in and pulled out a wrapped rectangle.

He opened the wrapping gently and saw the smiling faces of his parents in a photo that was familiar to him; it had hung in his hallway as a kid for the longest time.

“Oh,” he said. “Where did you find that?”

“In a box of their stuff. I was looking for that soft blanket.” She smoothed a hand over her belly. “For the little one.”

Lucas pulled her close in an awkward sideways hug. “Thank you.”

“Do you think about them much?”

Lucas blinked, surprised by the question. “Sometimes.” Most recently when Dylan was in contact with his own father. Lucas was glad the two men had managed to reach some understanding. There were still some bridges to build between father and son, but things were better.

She pressed fingers against their dad’s face. “Do you think Dad would have walked you down the aisle?” Tasha pursed her lips thoughtfully. “I think he would have.” She stroked her other hand over the material of her dress. “Wish they’d have gotten to meet this little dude.”

“Dude?”

“Or dudette,” she added. “We want it to be a surprise.”

Lucas wasn’t sure he could have resisted the urge to peek. “I suppose at your age you don’t get many surprises anymore.” He grinned when Tasha tapped his arm.

“You’re such a dick.”

Lucas wrapped his arm around her as she rested her chin against his shoulder. He hugged her close, narrowing his eyes as he stared at the back of the closed door. “So, are you going to tell me what’s going on?”

“With what?” Tasha breathed in as she sat upright. She smiled sweetly at him.

“Gas? That was just an excuse to keep me in the room, right?”

There was no mistaking the guilt that flashed over her face.

“You are so busted.” He went to stand, but Tasha held onto his hand.

“Please. Dylan told me to make sure you stayed in your room. He didn’t want you worrying about anything. Not today.”

As sweet as that was of Dylan, now all Lucas could imagine was worst case scenarios, most involved the Lady Liberty sitting on the bottom of the ocean with their guests still on board.

“I had one job. God I suck.” She pouted.

“So are you going to tell me, or shall I go and ask Dylan?”

Tasha worried her lower lip. Eventually, she released his hand. “Fine. Sit down. You have to promise you won’t freak out.”

He wished he could. “I’ll promise I’ll try not to freak out.”

With a huffed breath, she agreed. “Fine.”

“Well?”

“Well.” She faced him. “It’s about your cake.”


The final story in this sun-soaked series out 14th August 2015

Will Lucas and Dylan’s happy ever after be able to weather the storm that is heading for Sapphire Cay?

Join characters old and new as we celebrate Dylan and Lucas’s wedding and delve into the history of Sapphire Cay.

Connor and Shaun are directly related to Peter and Alfie, a couple whose clandestine lover affair was overshadowed by old prejudices and a world war. Shaun Jamieson is a writer, a romantic and needs to pen the story of the affair’s final secrets; Connor French’s family wants to stop Shaun.

When the two men step onto the sands of Sapphire Cay, they find more than just the secrets of an old love. They find hope and comfort in each other. But with the past hanging over them, can they ever have what Peter and Alfie could not? Or are they just as ill-fated as their ancestors?

With feuding families, unearthed secrets, and a violent storm that threatens the Cay, will the idyllic island with her cast of characters make it through unscathed? It’s time for the circle to close on the story of Sapphire Cay, and on the men who have lived and found love on her beaches.










The first three Sapphire Cay books in one volume:-

Follow the Sun

Can romance on a tropical island keep Dylan from moving on, and stop Lucas from working himself into an early grave? More on Follow the Sun

Under the Sun

The former Marine and the uptight wedding planner; opposites attract on a sun drenched Cay. More on Under The Sun

Chase the sun

Is meeting each other a case of second chances? Or will history repeat itself? More on Chase The Sun

Buy Links


Amazon (US) | Amazon (UK) | All Romance | Barnes & Noble | Kobo | Smashwords | iTunes

Reviews


The Novel Approach - 4/5 - "....The more I read, the more I fell for these guys and just coasted through, waiting to see how their HEA was going to play out.  I found reading about Sapphire Cay was just about as relaxing as if I was laying on the beach right there with them.

The stories are super quick reads, I really liked that they were in a volume, and I just kept going, one right after the other (I am also a little impatient).  The couples in each books have their issues and things that they each need to overcome, and they are kind of insta-love but just what I needed to relax and get out of my head for a while.  I now have the others in this series added to my TBR and they will be moved right to the top of the list to buy next...."

Excerpt 

Chapters 1 and 2 from book 2, Under The Sun, a wedding planner and his Marine lover

Chapter 1

“How long’s it been since you’ve visited the Cay?”

Jamie Durand lifted his head as the thirty-minute silence was finally broken, and he turned his attention to the tall, tanned man steering the Lady Liberty. Not even a lick of paint disguised the old and tired boat that had belonged to his parents, the previous owners of Sapphire Cay. He pressed his lips together thoughtfully. How long had it been? It felt like a lifetime. His parents had sold just over fifteen months ago and he had been deployed to Afghanistan four months before the sale.

“Four years, more maybe,” he said. Lowering his eyes, he returned to watching the ocean. The fresh October breeze whipped around him as the boat broke through the water’s surface. Foam betrayed their path from Marsh Harbor and he looked back through his shades as they traveled parallel to the coast, circling the point as they headed for Sapphire Cay.

“Name’s Scott by the way,” the man said and grinned over his shoulder. He had no clear accent but that didn’t really surprise Jamie. Another waif or stray adopted by the Cay, he figured. His parents had had a habit of taking in strangers, offering them a place to stay, and giving them employment.

Scott seemed friendly enough—dark hair, a deep tan, muscular, sexy, but totally not what Jamie needed. Scott met Jamie’s eyes through his shades and flashed a confident smile—not his type at all. In a figure-hugging white A-shirt and low-hanging cargo shorts, Scott struck him as a player, a man who probably spent more time in front of a mirror than being an attentive, giving lover. Lover? Was that really where his mind was at? More likely, he just needed a release from the low ache in his chest and the memories that had him waking in a cold sweat and dry heaving in the toilet bowl. Closing his eyes, he savored the refreshing feel of the salty mist. He was judging a guy he didn’t even know and it irritated him he could do it so quickly. That wasn’t like him.

“So,” he said. Conversation might help ease his mind. The man had been nothing but polite since they met on the quayside. “What do you do out here?”

Sapphire Cay had up to twenty staff at any one time he recalled—some permanent, some seasonal, and some on their own schedules. He had never come across the new owner, Dylan Gray, though he had heard good things. His parents loved the man and had been happy and relieved when he had decided to take on the island. They seemed to think Dylan was the perfect fit for what they had created during their thirty years out there.

“Captain of this fine vessel, excursions and tours, and general help-where-help’s-needed kind of guy,” Scott said and flashed his teeth in a wide smile.

So Scott was someone who got stuck in and took to any role, not just the overconfident asshole Jamie had thought. He really needed to work on his people skills. Never the social butterfly, he felt even more inept than usual.

“Have you been here long? I don’t remember you. Sorry if we’ve met,” he said above the sound of the boat’s engine.

“No. We haven’t met,” Scott assured him. “I came out here for the first time two years back with Dylan. We met in Thailand while traveling. He was heading out this way for a few months so I joined him. Luckily, your folks had work for me.”

“And now?” Jamie asked. Dylan owned the island. There was no more moving on to the next place every month or two. “He’s been running this place for a full year. He must miss it, the traveling.”

“I guess a little. But he’s settled and doing a damn good job.” Scott raised his voice as the boat lurched forward, riding through a wave as it loudly hit the front of the boat.

“And you?”

Scott shrugged. “Let’s just say Dylan’s flexible, as is my contract. There’s a job for as long as I want it.” He pointed, directing Jamie’s attention beyond the front of the boat. “There she is,” he said. “She’s something, right? I can see how Dylan fell in love with her so easily.”

Jamie carefully got to his feet and stepped over his bag to stand beside Scott. He never thought seeing Sapphire Cay would make him feel the way it did. Familiarity and memories flooded through him and almost knocked him off his feet. Maybe this hadn’t been such a good idea. The Cay had been his home, a place of warmth and security. Schooled on the mainland, he always looked forward to rejoining his parents when the semester ended. His mom would always have the chef whip up a batch of his peanut butter caramel cookies. They would be sitting on the kitchen table when he and his sister had gotten home. What waited for him on the island now?

“Is Dominiq still there?” The chef had worked on the island since before he remembered. He was as constant as the tide and just as soothing. With an accent that dripped comfort and home, Dominiq was the epitome of relaxed, chilled, and taking it easy. Jamie was sure if he Googled any of those, he’d find an image of Dominiq smiling back at him. The man was a true Bahamian—dark skin, dark hair, the deepest brown eyes, and an easy smile. He never did figure out exactly how old the man was. For all the years Jamie had known him Dominiq had looked exactly the same, and only in his last few visits had Jamie noticed the whispers of gray creeping through his tight, black curls.

“Yeah,” Scott said, bringing Jamie back to the present. “He’s been baking all morning.” Scott shrugged. “He’s suddenly got this freaky cookie fetish going on. There were trays of the things cooling all over the kitchen.”

Jamie couldn’t help but smile. Things might not be so different after all.

“Must be strange coming back now that your parents have left. They’re in Miami, right?”

“They are,” he said as he took his seat.

His parents, now in their sixties, had talked about moving back to the mainland for years to be closer to family, especially their grandchildren. Jamie and his sister had their own lives, and though the island would always hold a special place in both their hearts, it just wasn’t what they wanted to do. They weren’t their parents.

Sue was a doctor with a husband and two kids. She was happy and settled. Jamie had joined the Marine Corps at twenty-two, straight from college. His squad had become his family for the next three years and he was proud to have served his President and his country. He knew his parents had asked Dylan to write in a proviso, entertaining the possibility of him returning to the island and doing some work out there. It must have seemed a strange request and yet, when Dylan agreed, Jamie kind of took to the idea of having somewhere to return to once his active tour ended. He just hadn’t planned on it being so soon.

Instinctively, he rubbed at his chest and felt the raised line beneath his T-shirt. Seven months and the ghost of pain still clawed at his insides. Why wasn’t it getting any easier? He stared at the growing outline of Sapphire Cay. Maybe on the island it finally would. He was here to get healthy, rediscover the man he used to be, and hopefully find a little peace. God love his mother, but he couldn’t take a moment more of her fussing around him and everyone he knew treating him with kid gloves. He wasn’t going to break. He wasn’t that guy. Yes, something terrible had happened, but he hadn’t been under any illusions when he enlisted. Bad stuff had happened to plenty of other people, and in some ways, he had been one of the lucky ones. Okay, so shrapnel from an IED ripping through his chest and shredding his right lung wasn’t exactly a walk in the park, but he’d survived.

Light flashing in Jamie’s eyes made him look up, and he was met by a curious expression from Scott. Damn, his mind had wandered again. He couldn’t wait to get to the hotel and help with the repairs and renovations. He needed a distraction from his own mind.

Scott didn’t voice the question that curled his lips into a thoughtful curve, but instead simply stated, “We won’t be long now.”

Nodding, Jamie returned to watching the ocean and the ripple of movement on the starboard side of the boat. A school of fish swam just beneath the surface, their scales shimmering in the sunlight and creating a kaleidoscope of color and shapes as they fed. He smiled to himself as he relaxed and watched the fish. It was good to be home in Sapphire Cay.



The familiar feel of sand beneath the soles of his sneakers and the view of the hotel set back among the trees pushed from Jamie’s mind any of the doubts he had about returning to the island. Spending time here, under the sun, would do him good. It was a chance to add some much-needed color to his skin and give him the opportunity to think. There were jobs for him in Miami if he wanted to stay local, engineering roles at the bottom of the ladder that would give him a chance to build on his degree and create a career away from the military. Spending time on Sapphire Cay gave him the opportunity to think if Miami was what he wanted or whether it was time to move away.

“Dylan’s put you in one of the staff cabins,” Scott said as he dropped down from the small pier to join Jamie on the beach.

Jamie nodded and held out his hand to take his large bag from Scott.

Scott lifted the pack off his shoulder and passed it over to Jamie with a smile. “You’re in the cabin at the end. Hutia.”

The name of the cabin made Jamie smile. He remembered the year his parents refurbished the staff accommodations and spent several evenings selecting names for each of the updated buildings. Animal and plant species indigenous to the Bahamas had been agreed on. The Bahamian hutia was like a large rodent. Cute, Jamie figured, if you liked that kind of thing.

“You need me to show you?”

Shaking his head, Jamie said, “I can find it.” He looked up at the hotel. It hardly seemed real, and as clichéd as it sounded, it really did feel like only yesterday that he was last standing here looking up at the building. Everything looked the same, and he inhaled, imagining the smell of his mom fixing breakfast.

“Housekeeping was in this morning, but if you find you need anything Agnes will be around until after lunch.”

Agnes. He didn’t remember an Agnes. “Thanks,” he said, squinting against light reflecting off the white-painted building. “Are you hanging around?”

Scott shook his head. “I have to head back to Marsh Harbor for supplies. We have a wedding in six days, so lots to do.” With a short wave, Scott hopped back up onto the pier. “Later,” he said and flashed a bright smile before heading back to the boat.

With a sigh, Jamie stared up the beach. No point putting off introducing himself. Lifting his bag higher on his shoulder, he made his way up toward the hotel. The path was as he remembered, if not a little overgrown. The foliage was lush and green and overhung the edge of the roped-off route. Ridged wooden boards were half buried in sand and formed shallow steps for his trek upward.

As he reached the top of the short walk, he stopped and looked over the place he’d once called home. It now belonged to this Dylan and his partner. He just hoped they were taking good care of his parents’ beloved past.

“Jamie?” The creak of the entrance door hinge drew Jamie’s attention, and he was greeted by a man wearing an open white shirt and board shorts. “Jamie Durand?”

Jamie nodded and waited as the man made his way down the wooden steps to join him.

“Lucas,” the man said and held out his hand. “Dylan’s—” Lucas stopped and pressed his mouth in a line as he seemed to consider what to call himself.

“Boyfriend,” Jamie said and shook Lucas’s hand. He knew the couple were gay and together but kind of appreciated Lucas’s attempt to not be utterly out. It was a trait he’d adopted as a Marine. Don’t be obvious.

Lucas smiled. “Fiancé.”

“Oh,” Jamie said. “Congratulations.” Lucas’s eyes were a beautiful shade of hazel and amber and they seemed to shine in the sunlight.

“Thank you,” Lucas said and ran a hand back through his blond hair. He looked embarrassed as he turned away and glanced up at the hotel. “Dylan will be back in a half hour or so. He had some work to do down at the honeymoon cabin.” Lucas turned back to Jamie and smiled. “He’s actually been looking forward to you getting here. I’m kind of useless with a hammer so it’s just him and Scott most of the time.”

“Is there much that needs doing?”

Lucas gave a slow nod. “Bits and pieces. The usual before we open for guests.”

Jamie remembered as a teenager following his father around the island from cabin to cabin, checking roofs and gutters and clearing fallen debris. One year, maybe eight years ago now, a tree had blown down and come crashing through the window of the hotel’s dining room.

“We lay money aside for this and I’m sure among the three of you this place will be back to perfect in no time.”

“Scott said you had a wedding. Six days, is it?”

“Yeah.” Lucas rolled his eyes upward as he seemed to try to recall information about the booking. “The guests arrive on the twentieth, wedding on the twenty-first, two-week break, honeymoon, whatever, and they’re gone by the fifth.” He grinned. “And then we have about three weeks before the next party arrives.”

“Another wedding?” Sapphire Cay accommodated for any occasion. Weddings, birthdays, straightforward vacations, there was even this one time some movie studio hired the island for a month. Extras in Speedos was definitely one of the times Jamie made an exception to his usual discretion. Shame none of the crew did. Though he hadn’t realized it, his eyes had drifted down to settle on Lucas’s exposed tanned chest. Only when Lucas pulled his shirt closed and fastened the few buttons down the front of his stomach did Jamie quickly avert his eyes.

Lucas stepped past Jamie. “Yes. We have three before Christmas.” He quickly looked Jamie up and down. “Do you have any other bags?”

Shaking his head, Jamie tightened his hold on the strap of his bag. “Just this.”

“Okay,” Lucas said. “But if you need anything, just ask.”

There was something in Lucas’s eyes and Jamie didn’t want it to be what he had seen in so many people’s eyes already. Pity. He didn’t want anybody’s sympathy or their sorrys. It was what it was and he needed to move on. He needed people to let him.

“Thanks,” Jamie said.

“Sure. I’ll take you to your cabin. See you settled in.”

“You don’t have to,” Jamie said quickly. He was fine. He didn’t need settling in.

Lucas smiled and started down the path leading around the hotel. “What kind of host would I be if I let you just wander off by yourself?” He held out his arms, indicating for Jamie to follow him. “And before you think it, I’m not trying to patronize you. I’m sure you know this place a hell of a lot better than me. I’d just like to make sure you have everything you need.” He met Jamie’s eyes and the something Jamie had seen was still there. To Jamie’s relief it wasn’t pity or sympathy or anything like that, it was more like anxiety. Lucas, it seemed, was nervous about Jamie being there.

“Okay,” Jamie agreed. He figured Lucas just wanted everything to go smoothly during his stay at Sapphire Cay. Jamie was, after all, the son of the previous owners and probably someone Lucas and Dylan wanted to impress. “Lead the way.”

The short walk to the staff cabins was filled with idle chatter. Lucas seemed an okay guy. He was friendly and open and seemed to have a charm about him that had Jamie wondering what his fiancé, Dylan, must be like. The way he had heard it, it was Dylan who was the more carefree and laidback of the two, and if this was Lucas—happy, talkative, and easygoing—Dylan must be damn near horizontal most of the time.

“Here we go,” Lucas said as he stopped outside the rodent-named cabin. The door was already unlocked, and Lucas entered the cabin first. “You have spare bedding and clean towels. Agnes will call in once a week to neaten things up. But if you need anything before that, she’s around every morning and then again in the evenings.” Lucas picked the room key up off the dresser. “I don’t think much has changed. You’re pretty much self-contained. But there’s still the shared laundry area and we ask you don’t use the main pool and things while we have guests. Otherwise, treat the island like your home. Well, like you used to, I guess, as it was your home.” Lucas seemed to decide he was rambling and stopped. “I’ll let you get unpacked.” He handed Jamie the key and went to leave. Halting in the doorway, he turned back and looked at Jamie. “Come up to the hotel when you’re done. Dominiq is making lunch.” And with that, Lucas was gone.

Jamie let out a heavy sigh and looked around the open-plan living area. At the front of the cabin was the small kitchen consisting of an oven, refrigerator, sink, and two cupboards. There was a small couch, TV, and coffee table in the middle of the room, and then behind him a double bed, dresser, closet, and open door leading into the bathroom. Taking the few steps toward the bed, he dropped his bag to the floor and sat down on the end of the bed. Being here again after all this time felt strange, and the reason for his return unsettled him. He reached inside his T-shirt and pulled out the silver chain he wore around his neck. Sadly, he held the chain in front of him and stared at the tags threaded on the end. Light through the cabin window bounced off the metal tags as they swayed from side to side and Jamie caught them in his free hand. Squeezing his palm shut around the solid metal, he closed his eyes and reminded himself he was one of the lucky ones. He was home.


Chapter 2


“The order said pink. Not lilac.”

Edward stopped by Marylou-Beth’s desk and couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Was it possible that yet again the suppliers had sent over the wrong thing? Jeez. This wasn’t the first, fifth, or even tenth time and his patience just about ran out when he took in the frown on his assistant’s face. Gesturing for the phone, he waited until she said she was passing the phone over. Edward took the handset and counted back from five.

“I ask for twelve pink long-stemmed roses,” he started. “You are not the biggest, best, or even closest supplier to me and when I order pink I expect pink. I don’t run my business on near colors, and I don’t want or need lilac. I expect a box of twelve pink roses to be delivered to my office by eleven am or I will take my business elsewhere. Consider this your last chance.” He disconnected the call even as the supplier was blustering on about inclement weather and deliveries and transport and all the things that Edward shouldn’t have to worry about.

“What if they don’t send them?” Marylou-Beth said. She was chewing on a hangnail, which Edward found unsettling. Marylou-Beth didn’t do that kind of thing. The action indicated something else was going on and he dreaded to think what other drama she was attempting to shield him from. Running a mental list through his head, he searched for potential problems. He had the Osborne wedding on Sapphire Cay and a civil ceremony at City Hall, but other than those there was no major crises that could cause his normally unflappable assistant to bite her perfectly manicured nails.

“What’s wrong, babe?” he asked carefully.

“They sent the wrong color,” Marylou-Beth wailed and then promptly burst into tears. Hell. He hated dealing with any woman crying, regardless of his huge affection for his assistant of two years. A transplant from her native Georgia after a failed romance, she was good at her job and kept him from being too anal about details. She had a good handle on his OCD tendencies and never ever thought it was okay to go through and amend anything in his diary. He clutched said diary harder. It never really left his side, was photocopied daily, and there was an electronic backup in three separate places. Nope. She never touched it, which was the perfect relationship between boss and assistant in his mind. He wasn’t entirely sure what to do with the tears so he hovered uncertainly. Perhaps he should try and talk her down?

“It’s fine, they’re sending over the correct color—”

“What if they don’t?”

Edward clutched his diary even closer. What the hell was going on? The only time he’d ever seen her this irrationally tearful was at the end of the last season of America’s Top Model when the US lost out to Britain. Of course Edward had been quietly proud but didn’t have time to gloat as the waterworks kind of drowned out the end.

They’d watched it with sushi and authentic sake and she had just broken up with Tom; she’d sobbed this way for a good half hour. Which only meant… Shit.

“Did you break up with Tom again?” Edward asked carefully. They broke up at least every other month with some drama or another. And they said gay men were dramatic.

“He said—he—said—I was too tall—” She hiccupped the last. Edward’s heart sank. So yes, she was a shade under six foot and Tom was only five nine, but they’d seemed so perfect for each other. He knew Tom, couldn’t believe the man had actually said that the woman he called the love of his life was too tall.

“I’m sorry,” Edward said. That was the right thing to say and he wondered how long the drama would last. He was leaving for the Cay in two days and the office was hers. The last thing he needed was for prospective clients high on the need to get married to be greeted by a decidedly unattractive snotty nose and blotchy face. Then guilt swamped him. Hell, they’d been picking wedding themes yesterday and now Tom had broken Marylou-Beth’s heart. Channeling his inner sensitivity, he scooted around her side of the desk and pulled her into a hug. Of course, that meant he was going to have deposits of shiny silver eye shadow on his black Forzieri button-down, but he could deal with it. He had a spare in the office closet. Patting the top of her head with his free hand, he resolved to get Tom on the phone immediately to sort this out.

“Go out for a walk, sweetie,” he said. “Get coffee, take ten, hell, take the rest of the day.”

She pulled back and looked up at him; her violet eyes were watery and her lip trembled.

“I thought he loved me,” she said.

“Of course he does. But don’t you know, sweetie, all men are idiots.”

“Except you. You’re so sensitive and kind and sweet and you understand me.”

Edward sighed inwardly but smiled outwardly. He was far from what she labeled sweet or kind. Sensitive yes, but he was of the belief that all men had the necessary skills to be sensitive—they just didn’t use them. She buried her face against his shirt and sniffed dramatically.

“And you always smell so nice.” Her voice had taken on a wistful tone, which was Edward’s cue to back off.

“Thank you. Now go on, take a walk. A few minutes in the sunshine and you’ll feel much better.”

She scooped up her purse and headed to the door. “I’ll never be all right again,” she said dramatically, then left.

Edward immediately grabbed the handset and dialed Tom, who answered almost instantly.

“Edward, is Marylou-Beth okay?”

“What did you say to her?” Edward wasn’t messing around with this; he had maybe ten minutes to sort this out.

“She had these heels on… all I said was that I liked them but that she made me feel a bit short.” Edward couldn’t believe how bewildered Tom sounded. Did he have no idea of how his fiancée felt about her height?

“Okay. Here is how you play this. Red roses—no chocolates since she’s on a diet. Buy a tub of blueberry frozen yogurt instead, add a sparkler, and for goodness sake, spray some cologne before you come up. You have an hour.”

“Got it. Roses. Yogurt. But cologne? Edward, I’m straight; you know I don’t like that kind of thing—”

“Do it or lose Marylou-Beth forever,” Edward said. Then he ended the call and shut himself in his office.

Changing his shirt was the first order of the day and he spent a good ten minutes making sure his shirt was tucked just so, his silk tie knotted perfectly, and his hair still frozen in its volumized style. Adjusting his black-framed Prada glasses, he peered at his reflection. They finished off the geek-chic look perfectly and he looked damn good, if he said so himself. As the owner and chief contact at Blush Pink Weddings, Edward McAllister had a public face and he loved it. The best designer clothes, hours at a salon for his thick, wavy dark hair, manicures, facials, everything he did made him the gay guy that potential brides loved and that potential grooms trusted with said brides. Blush Pink had grown year over year and he earned enough now to have Marylou-Beth as a permanent assistant and to run this office out of Coral Gables in one of the better areas of Miami.

The phone rang again and a cursory glance revealed Marylou-Beth wasn’t at her desk. He answered on the third ring.

“Blush Pink, Edward speaking, how can we help you?”

“Edward. How’s my wedding planner?”

“Fine,” Edward said. “What’s the problem?” He just knew something was wrong from the fact Dylan had phoned and not Lucas.

“Small problem with next week.” Dylan Gray’s voice was low and calm. Hell, he could afford to be calm, it wasn’t him that would be fixing last-minute adjustments in the wedding at Sapphire Cay. Edward liked Dylan a lot, but he wished it were Lucas he was talking to. Dylan had the grand ideas but it was Lucas who had the real business head. Dylan and Lucas were his biggest customers. Dylan even claimed Edward as ‘my wedding planner’. It seemed that in the last few years, with the previous owners and now Dylan, he was spending more and more time on the Cay with weddings.

“What’s up?”

“We have to do some structural work on the gazebo. Problem is that the electrical cable…”

Edward listened to the details and opened his diary to the page dedicated to the Osborne wedding. So. Probably no electricity to the gazebo. Which meant adjusting a few small details. Thoughtfully, he tapped a pen on the book as Dylan was explaining that they hoped to have it fixed but he couldn’t promise anything.

Checking his calendar Edward mapped out the six days remaining to the wedding. He could work something that would be just as good.

“Edward? Are you still there?”

“It’s fine,” Edward said. “I can work around this. I’ll take a look when I get there.”

“Scott is booked to be at Marsh Harbor for you.”

Edward raised his eyebrows. Edward used to love seeing Dylan waiting at the harbor, but since Dylan had hooked up with Lucas—sorry, fallen in love with Lucas—and was now off the menu, Scott would do as eye candy. Scott may not be the man of Edward’s dreams but he was built like sin and was easy on the eyes. Shame he was a player. Shame he wasn’t Edward’s type. Of course, you could always look at the menu even if you don’t plan to eat from it. He chuckled at his thoughts. Scott would leap a mile if he had any idea of the things Edward imagined when he watched the man steer them from Marsh Harbor to Sapphire Cay.

“I’ll see you in two days, and meanwhile I’ll email a plan B for what I want. Or at least I’ll get Lucas to do it.” Dylan added the last with a laugh and it made Edward smile. Dylan and Lucas were so good for each other and clearly in love. Seeing them together called to Edward’s romantic heart.

“See you in two days.”

Edward closed his diary and leaned back in his chair. The bride had wanted thousands of twinkling fairy lights around the gazebo, which was now unlikely to happen. Okay, so what else could he do? Images came to him of the gazebo with the sea as the backdrop, and he remembered the storm lanterns from previous weddings. The glow of candles in the half dark would be stunning and not nearly as intrusive as the brighter glow of the strings of lights and if he had the candles reflecting through colored glass…

Settled on what he needed to say to his picky bride, he dialed her number. He was in the zone doing what he loved best.



* * * * *



Scott helped him off of the boat. It wasn’t that he couldn’t manage but he wasn’t going to argue with the help of a strong man. Brushing off the stray sand that decorated the ass of his suit pants, he cast a critical gaze around the landing area. This was the first point that the couple and their parties would see and it had to be perfect. Satisfied at the look of the old yet sturdy jetty and the wide-open expanse of perfect beach, he began the short trek up to the main hotel. The utter beauty that stood in front of him never failed to take his breath away. Low and wide, the hotel was wood and brick and solid in amongst trees.

Bypassing reception, he knew he had to see the gazebo and work out where everything was. He had photos but if there really was a problem with wiring that spread any farther then he needed to see it now and not later. He had a vague impression of what would work. The gazebo itself was a study in metal and wood and had weathered many a storm, and it would look stunning when he finished with it. He was in creation mode, the I-can-deal-with-anything frame of mind.

And then he rounded the corner and was faced with chaos.

Half the gazebo was missing. Literally gone. There was a hole in the middle where the wooden deck had been. A trench ran from the gazebo to the side of the hotel. It was utterly decimated.

“Four days,” he blurted out. He caught movement out of the corner of his eye, a man walking backward, slightly doubled over and dragging an iron pillar that used to be part of the gazebo. Edward pushed away the instant appreciation of a fine, tight ass, powerful thighs covered in holey jeans, and the flex of muscles in strong arms. This wasn’t some ten o’clock Coke break for him to ogle the laborers. This man was destroying his canvas. Edward couldn’t form a sentence as panic knifed through him. He couldn’t have the chaos in front of him now. He didn’t have time.

“I’m sorry?” the man with the iron said. He turned to face Edward and Edward catalogued sweaty skin and a very young but serious face.

“Four days,” Edward repeated. “What the bloody hell did you do?”

The man reached out a dirty, muddied hand with a smile on his face. “You must be the Brit. Dylan and Lucas warned me you’d be arriving this morning. I’m Jamie,” he said. Edward looked at the extended hand and couldn’t help the horror inside him from slashing angrily on his expression. What was Jamie doing here in the gazebo? Where was the gazebo?

“What have you done?” He gestured at the mess and was almost incoherent with shock. The last time he’d been faced with this was a garden party at his aunt’s house when he had nothing more than paperclips to hold up banners. He’d been ten at the time and he was still traumatized by the stress of it. Four days to make something beautiful of this construction site? He could cover up… no… there was nothing… he couldn’t hide this… no flower was big enough, no candlelight soft enough to cover the scar.

“You need to breathe,” the other man was saying. He was patting Edward on the shoulder, those muddy worker’s hands all over his Armani shirt, and Edward backed away. Disorder was in his head where he needed order.

“I am bloody breathing,” he snapped. “Who did this here? Why is this happening in this wedding? Dylan never said…”

Jamie, the worker with the hands, was frowning and casting looks toward the hotel.

“I’ll get Dylan—”

“Did they authorize this? Did anyone actually authorize what you are doing? Who the bloody hell do you think you are destroying the centerpiece of the whole wedding?”

“I work here,” Jamie said. Like that was the whole defense for what he had done?

Edward snapped at the deliberately obscure reply. “Not for much longer you’re not if you cause this much destruction.”

Twisting hands in his hair, he stared helplessly at the mess for a few more seconds, and then giving Jamie-the-worker not a second glance, he stalked away to find Dylan.

It was only as he passed a wall mirror inside the door that he saw what he’d done. He’d literally pulled his hair to the point there was no style left in it at all. Jesus. He was already fighting sand and water and now he had to add dealing with stress to his haircare regime.

Breathe. Deep breath in. Out. In. Out. There had to be an alternative. Another way to make this wedding beautiful.

“Edward?” Lucas was suddenly there. He must have arrived while Edward was near hyperventilating. He was concerned and had that patented Lucas-look-of-worry on his face. Worker-man was hovering behind him and he also looked alarmed. “Jamie says you aren’t well?”

“I’m fine,” he snapped. “Well I was until the kid here decided to play at building and ripped down the centerpiece of the entire wedding.”

“Not a kid,” Jamie said quickly.

“Do you realize this wedding is huge? Did you know the Osbornes went to five different planners before hiring me and this island? This could ruin my reputation. Why did no one tell me?”

“Calm down, Edward,” Lucas encouraged. “We were working on the electricity but there was subsidence and the whole thing started to shift. It was dangerous.” Lucas said all this with his hands held out, palms upward in a placating stance. “It only happened last night. Jamie, Dylan, and I have been up all night dealing with clearing what’s left. I’m sorry.” Lucas hesitated and Edward could see the exhaustion bracketing his friend’s face. “I don’t know what we are going to do,” Lucas added.

Seeing Lucas worrying pushed Edward out of panic mode and into his normal take-charge default. Okay. First things first. Construction. He’d need dark-and-handsome-yet-hot-and-sweaty for that one.

“You,” Edward said and pointed at Jamie. “Can it be rebuilt in three days?”

Jamie looked startled and then an expression crossed his face that Edward couldn’t understand. A flash of fear or reluctance? It disappeared too quickly for Edward to get a real lock on it.

“I can do it,” Jamie said. He crossed his arms over his chest and the movement revealed the impression of dog tags under his sleeveless T-shirt. God. Dog tags as a design accessory was so nineties. Edward shook the random thought from his head. Focus.

“You have two days to get me to a yes or no position. The Osborne party arrives in three days and I must have ideas of an alternative if the gazebo is a no-go.” As Edward summarized his position Lucas was regarding him with a very odd expression on his face. The man had never really seen Edward in full-flight damage limitation before. Marylou-Beth said it was a sight to behold and scared the shit out of everyone in its path. Jamie disappeared out the back door without saying anything and Edward caught sight of that gorgeous ass again. Pity it belonged to the guy who was ruining his business.

Great.

There came his drama gene again.





The Book

Model, Isaac Bailey wants to break into the world of fashion design. Under his father’s company name, he is set to debut his new collection—summer wear.

He has the models, the clothes, what he needs is a location. Mitch Stone is a trouble shooter. His latest client needs an exotic location and he happens to know someone with the very thing—Sapphire Cay.

Having underestimated Isaac as nothing more than an airhead model, Mitch soon discovers there is much more to the young man than he first thought. 

As the fashion shoot gets underway, Mitch has to contend with his feelings for his old love, Dylan, and the very new and growing affections he has for Isaac. 

What starts as just another job, turns out to be more fruitful and exhilarating than winning any multi-million dollar contract.

The Sapphire Cay series

Book 1 - Follow The Sun
Book 2 - Under The Sun
Book 3 - Chase The Sun
Book 4 - Christmas In The Sun
Book 5 - Capture The Sun

Buy Links

Love Lane Books  |  Amazon (US)  |  Amazon (UK)  |  ARe  | Smashwords  |  B&N  |  iTunes

Reviews


Prism Book Alliance - 5/5 - "....I’ve been reading the Sapphire Cay stories since the very first book; they are like coming home and meeting old friends. My oasis of calm all rolled into one. It doesn’t matter how bad my day has been a trip to Sapphire Cay has the power to lower my blood pressure and relax me like nothing else...."

"....I loved this one so much, it’s by far my favourite of the series (and long may they continue). I don’t want to say anything more about the story except to say Mitch is perfect as the uptight businessman who’s forgotten how to unwind, he wants what he finds on the Cay but he’s scared to reach out and take it, thinking that you can’t build a future on a holiday fling. I loved Isaac too; he was very sweet and quite nervous of the fashion shoot for his first collection. One touch that I loved was how the pictures of Peter and Alfie, found in Christmas on the Cay, were mentioned, that’s the type of thing that’s wonderful about these stories, each one feeds into the next, and I can’t wait to hear their story too...."


Multitaskingmommas Book Reviews - 4/5 - "....This was such a sweet romance, especially when Mitch kissed Isaac's worries away. The two men had their own issues to deal with and they did deal with them - together - and that just made me smile happily for them both. This does have a fairy tale feel to it though, so is kind of dreamy. Then again, I think dreamy is good, especially when I fall in love with two men I knew nothing about and made me curious enough to pick up the rest of the series...."

The Blogger Girls - "....When I was asked to review this book, I was excited. I have read the first three in the series and loved them. Yes, some of our favorite past characters do make appearances.

When the story started, I sensed something wasn’t right about Mitch’s “date” for the night. When I found out the truth, I was honestly mortified for him and his behavior. I wanted to cuff the back of his head and ask “Didn’t your mother teach you better!” I have to admit, when Mitch realized his screw-up, I laughed and thought, “That should teach you not to be a loosey-goosey.”....
 

....I will most definitely be recommending it to all my readers.

Overall Impression: I loved it!...."


Because Two Men Are Better Than One - "....I really enjoy this series. It’s like receiving a lovely little gift each time a new book is released. What makes it appealing, at least for me, is the familiarity of the setting – who can resist a gorgeous tropical island? – and also the chance to get little glimpses of characters we’ve met before. Plus I always like the pairing of the men in the story.

....This story combines some hot sex with a sweet story as these men get in touch with their emotions. It’s a gentle, read-in-one-sitting kind of book, that leaves you smiling at the happy ending...."


Excerpt

Chapter 1

Mitch Stone sipped at very weak whiskey and water and people-watched. He’d done the rounds twice already, flirted with the women, talked sports with the men, and every other cliché under the sun. Now he was hiding to give himself some time to think and staying as sober as he could while having a drink permanently in his hand.

It’s Christmas Eve, live a little.

“Why are you hiding over here?” his senior manager asked with a frown. She was looking a little glassy-eyed, and the champagne glass in her hand was nearly empty.

Mitch lifted his glass in a toast and smiled easily. He liked Doris, with all her power suits and her impossibly high heels. Tonight she appeared relaxed, and it was a good look on her. “I’m just taking a breather.” He wasn’t going to lie to her. She was uncannily quick to see through anyone’s bullshit.

“Don’t stay here,” she admonished. She grabbed a new champagne flute from one of the waiters and sipped at it. “I’m going out to find some fun. I’ll find you some while I’m at it.”

“Don’t—“ She’d gone before he could say what he wanted to say. Mitch watched her weave expertly through the groups forming around the small tables and toward a particularly gorgeous young man who had caught Mitch’s eye more than once tonight.

He must be a party favor, young guys and girls brought in to add glitter and romance, slim young girls with short dresses and scarlet lipstick who pandered to any man at a loose end in the crowd, escorts who were available if you needed them. That was how it worked at big seasonal parties like this one. Since there were women who might need that little something, this particular party also included a whole team of cute men who sashayed and mingled, with alcohol they didn’t drink and promise in their expressions. They were all included in with the party, no cost involved.

This young guy, all bright-eyed with soft spiky hair, was so slim it almost seemed unnatural, but he had a good ass, a nice handful, and he was just as happy casting glances back at Mitch. Doris chatted to him, placing a hand on the young guy’s shoulder and leaning in to say something into his ear. He laughed at whatever Doris was saying and looked over at Mitch.

Oh shit, no. Is Doris setting me up with one of the party favors? Like hell that’s happening.

The young man, who must be in his early twenties, nodded his head and spoke to Doris, all the while looking at Mitch, and Mitch ducked away before the man decided he needed an escort tonight. He was here on business, and the last thing he needed was sex.

This was Mitch Stone’s night. He was at the Haddison-Walker Christmas Eve party, and he was selling his brand to anyone who wanted him. Wearing charcoal Armani, with his loafers polished to a high sheen, his favorite Armani shirt, and a rich blue tie, he knew he looked good. He looked completely the part of the guy who deserved to be here.

“Hey, Mitch,” a CEO with his wife clinging to his arm called out.

Mitch nodded as he walked past like he had somewhere to be, when in fact all he wanted was another quiet corner to people-watch. He’d schmoozed with that particular CEO—he already had the man’s card in his pocket. He might be new to the company, but brokering the Haddison-Walker deal with Davis was the kind of news that left people slapping his back and asking how the hell he had done it. Everyone who had ever guided the two companies in any kind of joint project knew just how hard it was to get a positive outcome. The CEOs were brothers yet hated each other. Their passions were quick to ignite to temper, but somehow Mitch Stone had managed the near impossible. He’d worked out a joint marketing deal that was beneficial to both sides.

I am a confident, capable marketing executive, he’d told himself before he came down to the party from his room. He had to believe that, otherwise he would fail to capitalize on the big win and be just another low-level marketing assistant sliding into obscurity.

Mitch wanted to be the marketing fixer, using every skill he’d learned from ten years with Dylan Gray Senior about contracts and terms. He needed to be the first one Miami companies thought of when they wanted help. And he had to be the one who matched person to product or group to sponsor. His unique firefighting style of marketing expertise, from graffiti to flash mobs, was making waves in the business world here in Miami. He had his finger on the pulse and Dolphins tickets in his pocket along with cards and notes from prospective clients.

There was good money here tonight, people in all kinds of business wanting his particular skills. Companies wanted the edge; they wanted young and new and fresh. This party was that kind of party—networking, smiling, hugging, and air kisses with good food and excellent wine.

“Mitch Stone! Didn’t think I would see you here.” A voice from his left had him turning. “Thought you’d be too busy out spending your bonus.”

Mitch shook hands with someone he recognized, but for the life of him he couldn’t place the name of the man. He was probably one of the team who had been up in New York on long-term assignment and he wouldn’t be the first face Mitch couldn’t put a name to.

“Thought I’d take Haddison-Walker up on their invite,” Mitch said. He wasn’t going to share the real reason he was here. Just that he needed to mingle and get himself out there to avoid the thought of doing fuck-all over Christmas.

The guy took a step back and thrust a very pretty woman forward. She had a big baby-bump and looked serene in the pregnant-lady version of a little black dress.

“This is Melinda, my wife,” the guy said proudly.

Mitch air-kissed and said all the right things. “When are you due?”

“End of March,” Melinda said. “Jerry is so excited. He’s like a kid at Christmas.”

Jerry! That’s right, Jerry something-or-other.

Jerry pulled his wife in close and squeezed her. “Why wouldn’t I be? I’m here at the party of the year with the gorgeous woman who’s carrying our baby and whom I couldn’t love more. What could possibly beat this?” He was beaming and maybe just a little drunk. Hell, he was clearly so besotted with his life at the moment that Mitch felt a twinge of irrational jealousy. I’m happy with the deal and the bonus and the kudos, that’s enough…

Not that he wanted a woman by his side or, perish the thought, a baby on its way. But to have someone on Christmas Eve must be kind of nice. Maybe one of these sexy but drunken marketing execs making more noise than they needed to was gay and fancied a hookup that would smooth Mitch into Christmas Day.

“We have to go,” Melinda apologized. She placed a hand on her swollen belly. “We called a cab. I get so tired.”

“Nice to meet you. Good luck with the baby,” Mitch said with an accompanying smile. He even managed to push genuine emotion into his voice, despite the alcohol in his system and the headache that threatened at his temples.

Jerry took Melinda and the two vanished into the throng, leaving Mitch at loose ends. Fixers like him didn’t stand around waiting for people to come to them; they went into the crowd like sharks.

Do I really have to? On Christmas Eve? Haven’t I got enough business for a while?

Jerry appeared back at his side, a bright purple wrap over his arm. “I meant to tell you… I have a client in need of a photo shoot, large budget. I’m worried I’m going to drop the ball on this one, what with Melinda and everything. I’m trying to pull in Bruno Cash, but he needs some persuading.” He handed over a bright pink Post-It note with some scribbled details. “They’re looking for standard stuff, so maybe it isn’t your kind of thing, and I realize you’re busy with the Haddison-Walker/Davis thing. But the company is looking for something a bit special in the way of a survivalist tents, fires, island-type thing. I’ll finish all the groundwork, but I was hoping you’d be my backup if Melinda is early.”

Mitch nodded. How likely was it that Melinda would be early? Anyway, he could do with making a few friends at the company.

“Happy to help if I can,” Mitch said automatically. Actually, it sounded like nothing he would be interested in working on, but he wouldn’t pass on it just yet, not when he wasn’t sober. Never make a drunken decision, his mom admonished him in his thoughts, and he remembered he hadn’t called her yet to wish her Merry Christmas.

Mitch made a show of pocketing the Post-It. As soon as Jerry left, Mitch pushed the request to the back of his mind and turned determinedly toward the groups of men and woman who needed his special skills. He schmoozed with the best of them, and only when he’d done enough talking did he wander out to the balcony with the ocean view and turn his thoughts to the Post-It note and what Jerry had said.

The sea, beaches, camps, fires—all the thoughts in his head swirled around to one person, as they always did. His ex-lover, Dylan, of the come-to-bed blue eyes. He has an island. And if Mitch fixed something between Dylan and this client, then that meant he had a valid reason to see Dylan again and maybe check out just what this boyfriend of Dylan’s was like, Liam or Luke or something beginning with an L. He resolved to pass on details of the island to Jerry anyway, and maybe he would make himself available as a replacement if needed. Any excuse to visit Sapphire Cay. And Dylan.

“Hot in there, isn’t it?”

Mitch sighed inwardly. He was done with the networking. He just wanted to stay out here in the cool night air with his crystal tumbler of whiskey and imagine Dylan’s response if Mitch asked to use his island. He’ll probably charge me double.

He cast a look sideways and his irritation became even more pronounced when he recognized the slim guy Doris was talking to next to him, all sultry-eyed and wet-lipped.

“No. But thank you,” Mitch said firmly. He might not have had actual sex in nearly two months. But, shit, the last thing he needed was the sex on offer from one of the party favors.

The young man—dark brown eyes and beautiful in an angular way—simply blinked up at him. Or across to him. Actually, for a twink he was a good five ten, and on closer inspection he looked a little older than the young guys hired in. Still, he was dressed in tight pants that left nothing to the imagination and a white shirt that strained over a slim, muscled body.

“Sorry?” he said and looked confused.

“Thank you, but no,” Mitch repeated. The young man looked behind him, clearly checking to see if Mitch was looking at someone else. Mitch sighed. “I don’t want what you’re offering.”

“Sorry.” The guy frowned. “Doris said I should talk to you. I was just commenting on the heat inside.” He held out his hand. “I’m—”

Instinctively Mitch raised his hand and shook his head. He wasn’t interested in names. Not ones of escorts, anyway. If the escort finished his introduction, Mitch didn’t hear. I have had more to drink than I thought.

Instead, as the man spoke, all Mitch could focus on was the sound, deep and sexy. “Okay. So who offered you something you didn’t want?” the stranger asked curiously.

Mitch sighed tiredly. “Half the guys like you in the room.”

The man shifted so his back was against the rail and sipped what looked like cranberry and ice. “Like me?”

“Here for the party.”

“We’re all here for the party, or am I wrong?”

“You know what I mean.” God, was this guy being deliberately obtuse? A couple other people joined them on the balcony, and Mitch suddenly felt incredibly awkward. What if a potential client saw him talking to one of the escorts? Time to head out. “Nice to meet you,” he said without meaning it. Then he stalked back into the crowd and made straight for the exit of the large ballroom.

He went to the nearest elevators and pressed the up button. He wasn’t the only one at this party who was staying overnight, but he was probably the only one going back to his room this early with the express purpose of spending Christmas Eve on his own.

Chapter 2

As soon as Mitch was back in room 2512, he flung off his jacket and slumped into the chair at the window with three of the small bottles from the mini bar in his hand. Dylan and his island were front and center in his head, and he blamed Jerry for putting him there. He downed the alcohol and stared into the dark until finally he couldn’t see any reason why phoning Dylan this late on Christmas Eve wasn’t a brilliant idea. He pulled out his cell and searched for Sapphire Cay, finding the number quickly and looking at the website. The site was pretty, functional, but beyond that, it was kind of difficult to find the number on the tiny screen and there was no Facebook page. Finally, after much squinting at his iPhone, he found a number, and before he could second-guess himself, he connected a call. The island would be the perfect backdrop for what Jerry needed, Mitch was sure of it. He could leave a message—strike while the iron was hot, so to speak.

Evidently the main number wasn’t connected to an answering machine this late at night but direct through to a cell phone. Dylan’s cell. Fuck.

“What’s wrong? Is it Dad?” Dylan asked instead of identifying himself. He sounded panicked, and Mitch felt instant guilt.

“Dylan, that you?” He’d drunk enough to be on the cusp of slurring his words, and he focused hard on speaking. “I need to book your island,” he added.

Dylan made a sound of annoyance. “What the hell, Mitch?”

“Got a contract with models, lots of ’em, and Jerry said he needed an island. Then I thought, Dylan has a freaking island. And it’s Christmas Eve, and I was thinking about you. Not thinking about you really, just you were in my head. Right? Am I right? Or am I wrong?” He attempted to keep his thoughts rational, but what was in his head wasn’t exactly coming out of his mouth in any kind of coherent fashion.

Dylan’s tone softened. “It’s nearly midnight on Christmas Eve, Mitch, why are you phoning me?”

There was whispering, something about drunk dialing, although the words were muffled. Mitch should have known the L-man would be there. “Dylan! My man, you still there?”

Dylan came back. “Mitch, Merry Christmas and all, but you gotta phone me after January first, man.”

Oh yeah. After Christmas, and not on Christmas Eve. He felt a hysterical bubble of laughter in his throat. “Oh. My bad.” Then he pressed on with the question he wanted answered. “So can I have your island?”

“Lucas can check dates after New Year’s for you.”

Lucas! That was his name. Not Liam or Luke. Lucas. “Lucas. How is he? Still the love of your life?” Mitch was genuinely happy for Dylan being happy. Well, sometimes he was happy for him. Other times he regretted having had a stick up his ass and never talking to Dylan about how he felt way back when. Never mind, that was in the past now.

“Goodbye, Mitch,” Dylan said. The message was clear. I have things to do on Christmas Eve and they don’t include talking to you, Mitch.

“Oh, okay then. Merry Christmas.” The finality of the call ending, of losing a friendly voice on the phone, hit him, and suddenly he didn’t feel so much drunk as tired.

“Hang on. Mitch, what are you doing for Christmas?”

Mitch considered what he was doing. Staying here overnight, eating the overpriced breakfast, drinking champagne, going home. “Nothing special.”

“You seeing Dad?”

Regret slid through Mitch. There wasn’t a single day when he didn’t think about the final day working for Dylan’s dad and Dylan himself. Still, he wasn’t going to let Dylan know what he was feeling. Instead he cased the words in an icy disdain. “I don’t work for him anymore. Couldn’t. Not after he got all soft on a client and refused to seal the deal. We argued, I walked. Didn’t he tell you?”

“We don’t talk much,” Dylan said after a pause. Then he changed the subject. “What about spending Christmas with your brother?”

My brother? With his wife and his picture-perfect house and his medical degree? That isn’t happening this side of ever.

“He’s in England with his new wife.” Mitch began to feel defensive. Who was Dylan to think he could comment on Mitch’s life? “I don’t want to see anyone at Christmas.” He snorted a laugh. “Jeez, Dylan, you getting slow in your old age playing house with that man of yours? We’re not all settled down. Some of us like to play the field and enjoy ourselves.”

“Uh-huh.” Dylan didn’t call him on his bullshit response. It was a good thing, because if Dylan continued in that direction, Mitch might fold under the strain. “Phone me in the New Year. And have a good Christmas, Mitch.”

“You too,” Mitch offered lamely. He ended the call and placed the cell carefully on the small side table. Then he tilted his head back to stare at the ceiling. You too, Dylan.

The pity-party-for-one lasted a good half hour, enough for the whiskey edge to fade, and he cursed himself for his stupidity. What was he doing sitting in his goddamned hotel room this early on Christmas Eve when he could be downstairs finding one of the favors and celebrating Christmas the way he should? Maybe that brunet from the balcony, the one who looked barely legal with the dark eyes and the kiss-me lips.

He used the bathroom, brushed his teeth, checked his hair, and donning his jacket, he left the room. When the elevator doors opened, he slid in and checked himself in the three walls of mirrors. He looked good for thirty-one. The elevator stopped at the eighteenth floor, and as if the fates were smiling on him, the guy from the balcony walked in, adjusting his shirt as he did. Clearly on his way back from a meet-up. He looked at Mitch warily.

“Sorry about earlier,” Mitch said. Then, as the doors of the elevator slid shut, he pressed the escort against the glass and kissed him.

By the time the elevator reached the first floor, and hell, it must have only been a couple seconds, Mitch was hard and his hookup was wrapped around him like a monkey on a tree.

Mitch pressed the button to take them back up to his room. That decision was an easy one.

Mitch backed him out of the elevator and to his room, still kissing, still hard, and even when the door shut behind them, Mitch didn’t stop kissing. They separated as they stumbled over Mitch’s discarded shoes, and the young guy opened his mouth to speak.

“I’m—”

“No names needed,” Mitch said firmly.

The man’s eyes widened, but Mitch didn’t give him a chance to form a reply, pushing him back until he lay on the bed, a wide grin on the escort’s face.

“I can go with that,” the escort said. He arched up as he shimmied out of slim pants and his pristine white shirt. “Not calling you anything,” he added and curled up to pull at his socks. Finally, he lay in just leave-nothing-to-the-imagination briefs. He was already hard, but he didn’t touch himself. Instead he sprawled back, his legs spread and his hands over his head and clasped together. He looked like he was fucking posing, all perfect hair and toned form.

Mitch shoved at his own clothes, and finally naked, he crawled up the bed and decided the best way to enjoy this gorgeous Christmas gift was to mess that perfection right up. He spent time kissing, enjoying the taste of whiskey and the promise of that mouth on his cock later. At the same time, he tousled the guy’s hair with his fingers, finally pulling it free from the confines of gel and mousse and whatever the hell else was in it to keep it looking so damn designer. Finally he was happy and nuzzled his face into the man’s neck, inhaling the scent there, citrus and spice and all things edible.

From there Mitch nipped and kissed a path to two perfect nipples in a hairless chest, loving the sensation of his lips on acres of smooth skin. One thing about the escorts, they were certainly high-class.

Traveling south, he pulled back the cotton to expose his bedmate’s cock, hard and flushed with need, and only a sudden sense of self-preservation had him stopping.

“Where are your condoms?” Mitch asked and looked down at discarded pants.

“Shit. Don’t have any,” was the frustrated answer.

“What kind of a… never mind.” Mitch wasn’t thinking about why an escort would have run out of condoms already. Instead he was too needy, too tired of waiting around, and he rolled off the guy with haste. Rummaging in his wash bag, he grabbed condoms and his ever-present lube and was back on the bed before his lover decided to make a run for it. Given the wide-eyed expression on his face, it looked possible.

“I don’t get—”

“Shh,” Mitch said.

He slicked his fingers and slid them to the man’s ass, pressing inside him with a sharp movement.

“Fuck,” his one-night stand cursed.

Mitch stilled. For running out of condoms, this guy sure was tight. Jeez, was this guy a top? He’d never even thought to ask. When the escort screwed himself down onto Mitch’s fingers and inhaled sharply before doing it again, Mitch decided he must be versatile. Fucking thank God for that.

Mitch stretched him, kissing the guy’s inner thighs, before rolling on a condom and encouraging the escort onto all fours. Sinking into the tight heat was bliss; stilling his movement when the guy under him groaned was instinct.

“You okay?” he asked. Mitch might well be the third or fourth guy with this escort tonight, but he wasn’t going to hurt him. Even though it went against every instinct he had, he stopped and waited. Finally his lover pushed back, and from there, everything was a blur.

Mitch closed his eyes and fucked every ounce of his need into this willing body. Falling back to his heels, he pulled the escort with him, every muscle in his body screaming for release. They kissed, awkwardly, messily at that angle, and Mitch opened his eyes, caught in the unfathomable brown of the escort’s gaze. There was innocence there, lust, need. Mitch reached around as they kissed, and with a few twists the escort was coming, with Mitch not long after.

They fell to the bed in a tangle of limbs, the escort chuckling. “Fuck, that was hot.”

“Mmm,” Mitch hummed. He eased out and discarded the condom, wiping himself with tissues next to the bed. He passed the box to the other man and watched as he cleaned himself up.

Then with a contented smile, the escort closed his sexy, heavy-lidded dark eyes and in seconds was asleep.

Mitch reached over to shake him awake but stopped at the last moment. He looked so peaceful, all fucked out and sprawled on the bed. What the hell. It was a huge bed, and Mitch could stand to have a companion for a little while. He eased up from the bed, and just because he was a careful kind of guy, he locked his wallet in the small room safe.

After all, this guy might be a high-class escort, but he was still on the shady side. Finally, Mitch was back under the covers, and he closed his eyes, every muscle in his body relaxing.



* * * * *



When they woke and the escort used his talent to bring Mitch off with lips and hands only it was one hell of a way to be woken up. And when the man smiled up at him, his lips swollen and his expression heavy with lust, Mitch wished for a brief moment that this escort was just a normal guy. Because they were dynamite in bed.

They showered at some ungodly hour and that ended with Mitch fucking his hookup over the bathtub.

He woke at a little after six, only an hour before the shuttle was picking him up to take him home. He reached to nudge the escort awake. Then he stopped. The kid looked exhausted and sweet and vulnerable. Mitch shook the thoughts from his head, that insistent press that maybe he could do some kind of Richard Gere and get this guy into proper work. Not that being an escort was like hanging around on street corners, but there was something about his hookup that screamed connection.

What the hell am I looking for? Did he imagine he could sweep in and keep this one for real, like a Christmas story or something where he could give the young man a happy ending? Like an escort would give up the thousands he probably earned doing something he enjoyed for a chance with a bitter marketing exec.

Getting soft in my old age.

Instead of worrying any more, he left a tip on the small table and exited the room. The guy had been good, and that was a plus from an otherwise boring Christmas event.


MKRdezign

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