The Book

Even if Ross and Kyle make it out of this alive, will the secrets in Kyle's heart stay safe?

Kyle gets caught up in a case that is entirely unrelated to Bodyguards Inc. Not only does he abruptly need time off, but he has to have absolute trust and complete support from Ross without being able to tell Ross a thing.

CIA Agent Stefan Mortimer needs Kyle's help with a case of a geneticist and a missing formula. Trouble is being led right to Kyle’s door, endangering the life of the team he has built and the man that he loves.

Going undercover, with Ross as his husband, is the worst kind of torture in so many ways, but it is the only answer. Kyle and Ross may well live through this but Kyle is convinced his heart won't survive.

Bodyguards Inc. Series

Book 1 - Bodyguard to a Sex God
Book 2 - The Ex Factor
Book 3 - Max and the Prince
Book 4 - Undercover Lovers
Book 5 - Love's Design
Book 6 - Kissing Alex

Buy Links - eBook

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

Buy Links for Print Book - Volume 2 - Max and the Prince and Undercover Lovers

Amazon (US) | Amazon (UK)

Reviews

Sexy for Review - 5/5 -"...I loved the dynamics between Kyle and Ross. They have a friendship based on work and admiration which makes their jobs run flawlessly. Ms. Scott’s portrayal of Kyle—the big, bad stoic owner of Bodyguards, Inc.—yet the gentle giant who delivered a sensual dance with Ross when the two men finally succumbed to their passions. As always in an RJ Scott series, the characters are an integral part of each other’s stories and she never forgets to add the small nuances which make us laugh or swoon. No spoilers, (but Ross gets Adam back).Sensual and sexy, RJ Scott delivers another winner in the Bodyguards Inc. series. Undercover Lovers hit the mark..."

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Laquette - 5/5 - "... By far, this is my favorite Bodyguards Inc book. Ross and Kyle together has been something we've been waiting for since the very first book. Ms. Scott definitely didn't disappoint..." Full Review

Diverse Reader -  "... I LOVED how she brought these 2 together. It was a perfect, smack them in the back of the head and wake up. It was exciting, beautiful, tense, everything the realization you both want the same thing should be. I love this series and this book was the best of them all in my opinion..."

Prism Book Alliance -  4.25/5 - "...This is easily my favourite book of the series so far. We have waited and waited for Ross and Kyle’s story and in all honesty that wait was more than worth it! When Kyle employed Ross as his PA 2 years ago it was instant lust. Those feelings grew rapidly until Kyle was overwhelmed with how he felt and very much in love. Rather than risk their friendship and make things difficult at work he keeps his feelings bottled up and has absolutely no idea that Ross feels the same way..."

Rainbow Book Reviews - "....This series keeps getting better as it goes along. This story has all the elements of a good adventure and mystery with love and lots of hot action between handsome men. Ross and Kyle's love is tested by fire and proven to be enduring. The secondary characters, Marcus and Nate, are great, both proving they are righteous men who can step us up when the situation calls for it. If you like action-packed adventure, mystery, lots of innuendos, playful bantering, and unrequited love coming to fruition, you may enjoy this story. Thank you, RJ, for delivering such a delectable read...."

Crystal's Many Reviewers - 4/5 "....We’ve known since book one that these two are chemistry, not ever realizing why they never acted. Now we know. We also know that chemistry is explosive. The dance these two do, mainly Kyle, Ross is ready to put his cap in the ring. And that dynamic sets the tone for the book, but once these two realize, wow."

Excerpt

Chapter 1 

As soon as Max left the room, Kyle reached for the phone. He hesitated, with his fingers an inch from the handset, and listened to its beep indicating a call waiting.

Stefan Mortimer was at the other end of the call. That was a name Kyle hadn’t expected to hear again for a very long time, and the fact the man had contacted Kyle didn’t bode well. Especially considering Kyle thought, his and Stefan’s association had been put to bed a long time ago. A twinge of guilt accompanied the memories. He’d been the one told to leave, he was the one who’d had no choice but to go, but leaving Stefan behind had never sat well with him.

A combination of anxiety and fear fluttered in his chest as he picked up the handset and pressed the button to connect.

Only to be offered a line that was dead.

“Stefan?” Kyle said to the empty air. For a second he held the receiver to his ear, then, very deliberately, replaced the handset in the cradle. Kyle rested his head on his hands, scrubbing his face to clear the tension. When the door opened, he knew it was Ross. He always knew when it was Ross.

“He got cut off,” Ross announced.

Kyle nodded. “So I see.”

Ross sat down in the visitor’s chair directly opposite. “Is he a new client? Should I start a file for him?”

“No, an old….” How could he describe Stefan? Ex-lover, partner, old friend? “Someone I knew.”

Ross eased forward in his chair, his gray eyes bright with interest. “Knew? Like you used your experience as a spy to know?” he asked in his usual inquisitive tone.

“From before,” Kyle said. He was deliberately vague. As he was every time anyone at Bodyguards Inc. skirted near what Kyle used to do for a living. Ross loved to tease that Kyle had been CIA black ops. To be honest, Ross wasn’t that far from the truth—but that had been a long time ago now.

Ross frowned but didn’t keep it up.

“So, Max, then,” Kyle said. Changing the subject was probably the way to go. He couldn’t believe he’d just had Max in here telling him that he and Prince Lucien were an item. How the hell could the same thing happen to Bodyguards Inc. again after Ben and Adam had both fallen for their charges? “He crossed the line.”

“Seems like it’s getting to be a habit around here. First Adam, then Ben, and now Max. And I hear Lorna has a new boyfriend from her last case. Next it will be you.” Ross looked down at the iPad in his lap. “Or me,” he added.

The words were a knife through Kyle’s heart. Imagining Ross with anyone other than him was something guaranteed to put him in a bad mood. “Don’t have time for that,” he lied. If Ross took even one second to notice his boss as anything other than his boss, then Kyle would make time. But that was as likely as a snowy day in hell.

Ross chuckled. Like that was a joke. Like Kyle didn’t mean every syllable of it.

“Anyway,” Ross continued. “Max seems happy, and his prince is a hundred times cute. Did you see Lucien’s eyes? I’ve never seen eyes that dark before, and his hair. Can you imagine burying your fingers in hair like that? And he’s a prince.” Ross threw up a hand and smirked as he did so.

There was that stabbing again. Jealousy for real. Kyle didn’t have to analyze what he was feeling. Ross was talking about how sexy another man was, and abruptly, Kyle was in a headspace that screamed possessiveness. The idea of Ross finding himself a guy like Prince Lucien? Someone who pressed all his buttons? Someone Ross could fall in love with? That was enough to have the anxiety of Stefan’s phone call twist into something much worse. Jealousy.

“I have a solution,” Ross announced. “We need to vet all our clients, and if there’s any hint they are gay and single, we don’t take them on. But, that wouldn’t work for Lorna—she’s straight, and she still met someone. Hmm, we should relabel ourselves. This could be a good marketing thing.”

“Ross—”

Ross ignored the warning in Kyle’s single word and instead drew an imaginary banner in the air in front of him. “Hire a bodyguard: meet the man for the rest of your life.”

Now it was Kyle’s turn to ignore Ross. He had too much on his mind to find Ross as sexy and cute as he normally did; he had to focus. “Take a note. We’ll need to do some research and dig up a couple of new bodyguards,” Kyle said. He needed to concentrate on the company—on BI—and making sure what he had built was stable and secure.

“Take a note?” Ross muttered as he thumbed through his iPad. “Who even does that kind of thing?” Then he stopped at a page on the screen. “So yes, that is what I wanted to talk about. We have two new applicants you need to meet up with and do the usual due diligence. One is ex-MI5.” Ross raised an eyebrow at that and turned the screen so that Kyle could see the face that went with the application. “Look at Mr. Tall, Dark and Ripped,” he said.

“Ross, Jesus…”

Ross coughed to hide a laugh. “In summary, we are mostly down to the wire. I’ve turned down that reality show we worked on last year. And—” Ross sighed. “—Michael’s wife called in. He’s broken his leg.”

“Broke his leg how?”

“Skateboarding.”

“What the hell?”

Ross shrugged. “Maureen said he was teaching his nephew how to—” Ross peered at the screen. “—air and backside, whatever that means.”

Kyle sat back in his chair. He’d need to do the usual. ‘The usual’ was flowers, or chocolates, or whiskey, or something useful, along with a personal note from him and the reassurance that the operative would still be paid enough to keep going. All the operatives at BI were self-employed, but Kyle considered himself a good boss, and he had the finances to back up any support needed. “I’ll write something up.”

“Well, hang on. Listen to this before you decide. Michael then called in, straight after his wife. Turns out he can’t stand the idea of being at home. Apparently all four grandkids are staying for the summer holidays, and he’s desperate to get out, so he’s coming into the office.”

“You’re okay with that?” Kyle asked. Ross hated people interfering with his systems, and his stationery.

“Yeah, Michael’s okay. I’ll give him rules, and he’ll stick with it. He’s not like Adam.”

Kyle was too stressed to listen to another of Ross’s reasons why Adam was a wanker, as Ross so succinctly put it. Nor did he want to hear further elaboration as to the most recent place Adam had put Ross’s stapler. He resolved to change the subject, but he didn’t need to when the phone rang again. Before Kyle could reach it, Ross leaned over and picked it up.

“BI, how can I help?” There was silence, and Ross cast a glance at Kyle. “I’ll just pass you over.” He gave the handset to Kyle. “Stefan Mortimer.”

Without being asked, Ross left the room and pulled the door shut behind him, and abruptly Kyle had no excuse not to talk to Stefan.

“What’s wrong?” he said, cutting to the chase. There was no need to use his name. Stefan and he had been closer than lovers for three years, and they knew each other like no one else ever could. Under fire, behind enemy lines, undercover—they’d done it all.

“Thank fuck,” Stefan said. His voice was shaky, or was that the phone line? “I’m in the hospital,” he added. Then he coughed, as if his body wanted to underline such a defining statement.

Kyle and Stefan had done their time in hospital beds, and both had the scars to prove it, but why was that something Stefan needed to break protocol to announce? Something awful, earth-shattering… something important.

“Talk to me,” Kyle demanded without elaboration.

“K, Jason is dead. I fucking killed him.”

Stefan’s partner was dead? “Shit, Stefan—”

“I sent you it all. It’s been a week, fucking hope it gets there. I need your help.”

Kyle quickly went through the list of possible delivery options in his head. There was no email from Stefan, no voice message, nothing on the boards—which left the one thing that could work: good old-fashioned snail mail. Sent as something that may not make sense to anyone else. A standard spook-type thing.

“Okay.” He didn’t have to say anything else. If Stefan was contacting him after all this time, if Stefan needed his help, if Stefan was in trouble…. “I’ll look for it.”

“K?”

“Yeah.”

“Thanks.”

Then the phone was dead. Kyle realized he had been gripping the handset so hard that his fingers were numb. He uncurled his grip and replaced the handset in the cradle, then pressed the intercom. “Ross, can I get the mail?”

“You’ve had it.”

“I need the other mail.”

Ross didn’t argue. “On it.”

Company protocol was to have what Ross called “other mail” stored for a few months. Ross never argued with why Kyle needed to look through it every so often. He probably put it down to his boss being an eccentric American. Just like he did with most of the other things Kyle did that Ross called weird.

A couple of minutes later Ross backed into the room. In his arms was the recycling box. He placed it in the center of the table and then left. He didn’t ask why Kyle wanted it in his office.

Methodically, Kyle worked his way through rejected CVs, some marketing letters, even a pile of pizza menus. Although how junk mail had made it up the driveway in the middle of nowhere to the manor house, he didn’t know.

Right near the bottom, in familiar writing with a Los Angeles stamp, was what he was looking for. A letter from a marketing company talking about search engine optimization. There, in a flimsy business card, was a tiny chip. Sometimes the old ways were the best ways.

Kyle stood and locked the office door as quietly as he could, then crossed to the wall safe and opened it. Pulling out the chip reader, left over from a much earlier time in his life, he inserted the chip and waited for it to read. Wiring it to the printer was a little more problematic, but finally he managed it, and before too long he had a sheaf of printed information. His blood ran cold at page one, and by page ten he realized what he had agreed to would be something a little more involved than “just helping out.” He pulled out his Glock and the cartridges, putting it into the top drawer of his desk, then locked the chip and the reader into the safe. He retook his seat to reread what had printed.

Grasping the papers in his hand, he unlocked his office door.

“Do we have anyone not booked out?”

Ross looked up from his desk, a frown on his expression and black ink on his cheek. The same black ink spread over his desk, and he looked flustered. “Fucking ink cartridge exploded on me,” he said.

“Do we have anyone free?”

Ross blinked at Kyle as if he couldn’t believe Kyle wasn’t taking the ink situation seriously. “No,” he said. “I told you, we’re backs to the wall at the moment. Unless you want to push up interviews for new operatives.”

“Fuck.” Kyle cursed and thought on his feet. Not even Jen was here at the moment. His sister and her husband were on a second-honeymoon, trying-for-a-baby thing that had her out of touch for a month of love on a beach.

Timing sucks.

Kyle thought on his feet. He had no choice. It was Ross or nothing. “Okay, get Michael in here.”

Ross sighed visibly, then wiggled his fingers in front of him. “Ink,” he explained. Then added, “Michael’s coming in tomorrow—”

“Jesus Christ, Ross! Just get Michael here today.”

Kyle went back into his office and shut the door. He hoped to hell that Ross would do his regular thing and just get on with it, that he wouldn’t come in and start asking questions.

The cover was simple—a couple on honeymoon. He’d done it before. But this case was different. This time he needed to blend in, in a very different way. This time he was a newly married man, and he needed a bride. Or a groom. Someone who would be his backup in an extremely toxic situation.

It could only be Ross.

Ross wasn’t just his PA. He wasn’t quite as well trained as the bodyguards on BI’s books; he just found his peace in paperwork and running BI alongside Kyle. But he knew how to handle himself.

Not with guns. Not with the CIA. Not with this. It’s too much. He argued with himself. Ross will be okay.

Then it hit him. What would he do if he had to spend time with Ross away from the office? How many of the secrets he held inside would come out? But there needed to be more than just Kyle himself on this; he needed someone else. And that someone else would have to be Ross, which was where the problems began. Ross wasn’t interested in Kyle; Ross didn’t want anything of what Kyle could give him.

Ross didn’t know Kyle was in love with him. Wanted him. Had wanted him since the first day they met.

Ross didn’t know that Kyle had tried and failed to find someone who actually looked back at him with anything like affection.

So how could he ask Ross to do what needed to be done?

He turned the sheets of paper one at a time and made notes on a pad, not looking up when Ross came into the office and took his regular seat.

“Michael’s coming in,” Ross announced.

“Thank you. And I’m sorry I shouted.”

Ross shrugged one shoulder. “You want to tell me what’s going on?”

“I need to take a case.”

“What case?” Ross asked. He sounded confused, and Kyle wanted to explain, but he couldn’t look up at Ross, let alone make words that explained what the hell was going on. “You don’t take on cases. What happened?”

“There’s something I have to do.”

“Is it a something that is connected to Stefan Mortimer? You looked really shocked to hear his name.”

Kyle glanced up at the question. Ross’s gray eyes looked troubled. “What I can tell you is that this is a job for the two of us, me and you.” He held up a hand to stop Ross talking. “I need you to back me up on this. For a week, maybe ten days tops, we need to go undercover.”

“I don’t know how… I mean… I’m not….” Ross began. Then he sighed. “I don’t understand.”

“All I can tell you is that we’re needed, and this is a matter of national security.”

Ross’s eyes widened. “Like James Bond-type national security?”

“Not as dramatic as that. We need to get to a place called Stratton Bridge, and I’m sorry, but we have to leave today.”

“What about my clothes? My laptop?”

“You can go home, get some clothes, take a laptop to stay connected to the office. When we get there, though, you will have a cover.”

“Wait. Is this a bodyguard job? You’re looking out for someone and you need me there to run the information side?”

“No, yes, and no.” Kyle sighed. “You have to trust me on this when I say it’s important, but I need something more than information.”

Ross sat forward in his chair and looked deadly serious. “I do trust you, Kyle. You know that.”

“Then all I can say is we’re going undercover, both of us. I’ll be with you every inch of the way.”

Ross smiled and pushed his hair back off his face, leaving a streak of black on his forehead; evidently, he hadn’t managed to wash off all the ink. “Undercover. Cool. What as? I could be a doctor or a teacher. Probably more a teacher, I guess. Not sure I’d be able to handle—”

“My husband,” Kyle broke in. “The room we have, it’s more of a suite.” He recalled the information Stefan had given him: the block booking of the only available room, which had just been renovated. “We need to be on our honeymoon. Trust me, it’s the best cover.”

Ross’s lips were in a round O, surprise on his face. “We’re acting—” He coughed to clear his throat. “—married?”

Kyle focused in on the streak of black, trying not to let any emotion show on his face. “They only have the one room, just open after renovation, the honeymoon suite. I need your decision now.”

While he waited tensely for Ross’s reply, Kyle considered. He could go on his own, and when asked where his husband was, he could easily pretend he was getting divorced from his pretend husband. But why would he still need a honeymoon suite? He’d nearly talked himself into that one when Ross looked at him directly.

“Okay.”

So many emotions passed over Ross’s face that Kyle couldn’t identify them all. He saw confusion, excitement, disappointment, the whole gamut of emotions. Then he saw Ross pull himself straight, and the smile returned. “We need a magnificent back story,” Ross said. And with that he’d agreed to play his part, and his and Kyle’s cover story was in place. “I’ll get some stuff. Give me thirty.”

Ross left, and Kyle listened for the distinctive growl of Ross’s black and red motorbike. He couldn’t help himself; he looked out of his window to the parking area below and saw Ross astride the beast of a machine that allowed him to zip around the country roads here.

“You’ll kill yourself, Ross,” he’d said when Ross had pulled up a few months ago as proud as a mom with a new baby.

“This, old man, is a Honda CBR1000RR Fireblade, and it’s not dangerous, it’s fun.”

Ross reminded Kyle far too often that there were ten years separating them, but being thirty-five, Kyle didn’t feel like an old man. He just preferred his Jaguar to the danger of the open road in nothing more than leather and a helmet.

“Says the man who moaned all last Friday that he had a paper cut.”

And now, there he was. He’d pulled on his leathers, and fuck, he looked like sex on legs. That gorgeous ass in leather, a black biker’s jacket hugging his slim figure. So different to the patient, organized, stapler-loving Ross that Kyle had in his head. This Ross, the one on the bike, was wild and sexy and asking to be—

Kyle had to stop himself, and he cursed Stefan for dropping him in the shit from a great height. He and Ross, in a honeymoon suite, for a week—maybe more—and with Ross wanting a magnificent backstory when Kyle couldn’t imagine what this case was going to bring him.

Espionage, agents, attempted murder, a favor to a friend thousands of miles away, and a new line in environmental disaster. Not to mention being undercover as married: with the man he was head over heels in love with in real life.

Just how wrong could this possibly go?

Chapter 2

Ross tapped a pencil on the desk in front of Michael. He had a list of potential concerns in his head.

“And you can reach me by email or my phone. I have both phones, my personal cell, and the backup office cell. Both have geo-locate on if you need to get to me.”

“You already said that ten times,” Michael said. His patience was legendary, but Ross could see that any minute now Michael would be shoving him out of the door. Michael had never done the office thing all on his own before, and though Ross was excited to be up and out with Kyle on an actual case, leaving his office was hard.

“I’ve left the bike—”

“In the shed, locked in, keys in the top drawer of the safe. I know.”

“And if Adam comes in—”

“Jeez, I know, I know. Hide the stationery, especially the stapler.”

“Okay.” Ross let out a noisy sigh. He should be encouraging Michael in his temporary role, but all he could do was worry.

Clumsily, with his Superman mug full of coffee in one hand, Michael managed to get behind Ross’s desk, leaving the crutches against the wall and his face in a creased wince. “Jeez.”

“Are you sure you’re going to be okay?”

“Leave the man alone. He’ll be fine,” Kyle said.

Ross glanced up at Kyle on the threshold of his office, then took a second look: Gorgeous-probably-unattainable-office Kyle had been replaced by Insanely-hot-out-of-his-league Kyle. Gone was the gray suit and tie, and instead this was a very different man. Ross hadn’t seen Kyle in civilian clothes before, and this was just a little bit dangerous. Black jeans, a dark blue T-shirt, and a leather jacket—also black, of course. He was in heavy boots, and his baggage was more soldier than visiting businessman. A backpack and a separate carry bag that looked like a camera case. Give Kyle shades, and he’d not be out of place in an episode of 24.

Ross filed away his inappropriate reaction to think about later. He’d had too many of those visceral reactions recently. Too many side-glances that he focused on Kyle for it to be a coincidence. Sometimes he’d see Kyle looking back with such a look of confusion on his face that Ross didn’t know what to think.

Ross couldn’t help himself, “Who do you think you are? Jack Bauer?”

Kyle shook his head and looked confused, glancing down at his clothes and back up again. “Let’s go.”

That wasn’t a good sign; Kyle wasn’t even rising to Ross’s teasing. Whatever was going on had to be pretty big.

Ross pulled the handle on his case and backed out of the office with one final look of dissatisfaction at Michael sitting at his desk, then turned smartly on his heel towards the hulking black Jaguar XJ. Something about this car—sexy, in-your-face, and powerful—reminded Ross so much of Kyle, it hurt.

Kyle remote-unlocked and the boot opened in a smooth glide. Ross wasn’t a great car fan, not like Kyle and Adam, who discussed cars at length: types and engine sizes, colors, speed…. Ross was very much in the motorbike group with Ben.

The rear space of the Jaguar wasn’t big, and it took Kyle and Ross together to fit everything in. But they were packed and in the car in less than five minutes, Kyle focused and quiet. Ross slid into the passenger seat and watched Kyle check a weapon into the glove box, his fingerprint locking it.

“We need a gun?”

Kyle shrugged. “I don’t know.” He started the engine, buckled up, and tensed his arms on the steering wheel. Then he shook his head. “This is stupid. I don’t want this.” Kyle stared straight ahead out of the window, tense, his tone clipped.

Ross thought of a million responses to that, but all that came out of his mouth was “What?”

“You. Here.” Kyle’s knuckles turned white with the pressure he was exerting on the steering wheel. “Fuck,” he cursed under his breath. “Anything to do with this.”

That kind of hurt. “I know I’m only a PA, but—”

“It’s nothing to do with that.”

“You think I can’t keep my head down and do what I’m told?” He used that teasing tone guaranteed to make Kyle smile. Except this time, it didn’t.

“Ross, for fuck’s sake,” Kyle shifted in his seat. “This is serious.”

Ross was torn between saying he needed to know what he was heading into and just accepting whatever happened. He ended up waiting for Kyle to either calm down or wind up to more. Kyle’s expressions seemed to match his new outfit: harsh, unforgiving, and focused. “How serious?”

“I can’t, not yet.” Kyle turned to look directly at Ross. “I don’t want this, but I need you.”

“I can do this,” Ross said.

They were off the grounds of the manor quickly. There was a sense of urgency in the way Kyle took the bends out to the country roads that networked around the estate.

“Who is Stefan?” Ross asked as soon as they hit the open road. He was looking directly at Kyle and couldn’t fail to see the stiffening in him, the tension in his shoulders and jaw. “I get it’s probably all I need to know, but if we’re going undercover, I need something.”

Kyle glanced at him briefly, because he was navigating the country backroads. He didn’t answer until they joined the main road north.

“You don’t need to know that,” Kyle said. His typical soft, almost slow accent had become tighter, clipped. He sighed. “And I can’t tell you, even if I want to.”

“But you trust him?”

The answer seemed to come very naturally. “I trust Stefan with my life.”

“Do you trust him with mine?” God knows where that question came from, but Ross didn’t apologize for asking. Normally, when there was a new case, there was the research, the checks, the personnel training, or at least some kind of background.

Kyle didn’t answer. Distracted by a stop light, he was staring pointedly straight ahead.

“So do you?” Ross pressed.

“The question is more do you trust I can look after you,” Kyle murmured.

“You have a gun.”

“I know.”

“You realize this is England, not America. We don’t have guns.”

Kyle hesitated. There was some definite thought going on behind his dark blue eyes. Ross could tell that whatever Kyle wanted to say wasn’t easy. “We might need a weapon.”

Ross considered this. “Okay. And yes, I trust you can look after me.” Then he had to add a proviso. “Not that I need looking after, Mr. Hero.”

Kyle muttered something under his breath, but Ross didn’t catch it, and he wasn’t going to push.

“Anyway, talk me through our legends,” Ross said.

“Back story is just fine.”

“I like the word legend.”

“You’re not a spy, Ross,” Kyle said. He had a small hint of his normal teasing tone in the words.

“Okay, so what is our back story?”

“We’re just married,” Kyle began.

“And our names?”

“We can keep the ones we have.”

“So when you said undercover, you just meant the married-relationship bit.”

“Pretty much that, yeah.”

“So, hey, I’m Ross Jackson and I’m married to you, Kyle Monroe. What is it we do for a living? And how long have we been married?”

Kyle shook his head. “I have no fucking idea.”

“Okay.” Ross wasn’t used to setting up cover stories, but he had an imagination as good as the next man. “We met through work… wait, what is it we do for work?”

“We are a consulting company.”

“Consulting on what? Finance? That always bores people enough to back off. Sales, marketing, that kind of thing. Okay, we’re financial consultants. You’re the hotshot investment guy, and I’m your PA. That would work. We met at the Christmas party. You were drunk, and unrequited love was finally reciprocated. We fell in love straight away and were married on Valentine’s Day at St James’s Church in the village. It was a quiet wedding, just family and friends. You got drunk again and did a whole lot of dad dancing. It was a beautiful day.”

“I get drunk a lot in this backstory.” Kyle sounded more relaxed, and at least he had stopped gripping the steering wheel so tightly.

Ross was happy to lighten the tone. It was what he did best where his boss was concerned. Kyle was a happy man with an edge of dangerous, and he had his dark days when he was snappy and mostly hid in his office.

“What can I say, I married a lush,” Ross said with a laugh. Then something occurred to him, fundamental to the whole married thing. “Photos,” he blurted out. “And wait, we need rings, or did we decide we were unconventional and it wasn’t something we wanted to do? Yeah, that’s it. Maybe we are still looking for the perfect rings, given our wedding was so fast. That would work.”

“Okay. What do we do about photos?”

“Just say we’re waiting for professional ones and we made a promise not to have our cells with us on the day.”

“What about our guests, wouldn’t they have taken photos?”

“Oh, you’re good,” Ross said.

“Let’s just say this honeymoon is four weeks after the wedding, so we cleared all the photos to a folder for printing. Not a folder in the cloud,” he hastened to add, to forestall the next question of why weren’t the photos on the web somewhere.

“Okay, so we were married late March?”

“March twenty-seventh, your birthday. It was a Friday.” Ross recalled the date, as every good PA would, but Kyle’s raised eyebrow said otherwise.

“Okay, I can remember that.”

“Oh, and are we hyphenating our surnames or keeping our own names? I think we should hyphenate. Jackson-Monroe, or Monroe-Jackson, both sound okay. Well, given you’re the big strong I-always-top guy, we’ll put your name first. So Mr. and Mr. Monroe-Jackson.”

“Your brain amazes me,” Kyle said with a soft laugh. That had been the first hint of a smile since Ross had answered Stefan’s call and passed the handset to Kyle. “And who says I always top?” Kyle looked briefly at Ross, but Ross refused to be waylaid with his thought process.

“It’s a brilliant brain,” Ross said, referring to the first comment. He decided to ignore the second. Way too many worms in that can to open the lid there.

Anyway, Kyle appeared to want to change the conversation.

“So because the wedding was so quick, we decided to take some time away from normal to learn about each other. Have a delayed honeymoon.”

Ross nodded. “Sounds good.”

“Not much to trip up on. Honesty is the best cover.”

“Except for the love part, I think we’re okay. We’ll just have to fake that. One question we might get asked: why this place? Why did we choose to find ourselves in Stratton Bridge? Two frankly gorgeous gay men in their prime—why not the Maldives or the Seychelles?” An image of Kyle in swimming trunks lazing on a beach with a rainbow cocktail in his hand sent a shot of something through Ross. He cursed his vivid imagination and the words “Who says I always top?” which had refused to leave his head.

“Photography,” Kyle suggested. “I have my camera, and I can talk shit about that for a long time.”

“Okay, so you’re a Yank, and you wanted to see Yorkshire because I talk about it all the time after spending my family holidays in that area as a kid.”

“Is that right?”

“In a sense, yes. More to the east of Yorkshire really, but I love this part of England. So, yes, that would work. Of course, we’re madly in love, which will mean some PDAs. You know, kissing and hugging in public. Think you can handle that?”

“I know what a PDA is, and I can handle it if you can,” Kyle said. He did that whole staring-straight-ahead-with-a-tense-jaw thing again and Ross sighed inwardly. That was Kyle, closed down, stern and weird at the turn of a card. Sometimes Ross would catch him staring out the window, a look of such utter desolation on his face that Ross’s breath hitched. If only Kyle would talk about things, get stuff off his chest, maybe he’d be in a happier place.

“So, tell me more about this case. Would you call it a case? It’s not an actual official Bodyguards Inc. bodyguard job, is it?”

“It is. Kind of. Stefan is working operations support for the Science and Technology Division.”

“Division of what?”

“The US Department of Homeland Security, anti-terrorism, working specifically for the chemical-biological defence group.”

Apprehension coiled inside Ross. Terrorism? What the hell did that have to do with a small town in West Yorkshire? “And?”

“There’s someone at the hotel… a man we need to watch over as a favor to Stefan. He’s skittish, and he mustn’t know what we are or why we’re there.”

“Why?”

The car stopped at a T-junction, and Kyle looked at him pointedly. The expression on his face said it all.

“I know,” Ross said with a sigh. “You can’t say.”

“What I can say is that he’d probably run if he had any idea that anyone knew where he was, let alone watched him.”

“So we make him stay. And keep an eye on him. I guess he’s a good guy.”

“Yeah. He’s an American, had a rough time, and that’s all I can say.”

Ross didn’t think Kyle would have anything to do with the classic bad guy, but he also assumed there were a lot of gray areas in whatever the hell Kyle had done before he started up BI.

“Okay. So what day did we get married?”

“The twenty-seventh of March.”

“Where…”

Now out from Dreamspinner, a Regency love story.

Threatened by his father with disinheritance, Lord Edwin Nash arrives in London with a sole purpose: to find a wife. A more than eligible bachelor, and titled to boot, the society matrons see to it he’ll be shackled to one of the girls by the end of the season.

During a masquerade ball, Nash hides from the ladies vying for his attention. He is discovered by Lord Thomas Downe, the Duke of Lynwood. Nash is horrified when Downe calmly tells him that he knows the secret that Nash has hidden for years, and that he sees through the mask that Edwin presents to the rest of the world.

And then he offers him an alternative.

BUYLINKS: Dreamspinner: Amazon.com: Amazon UK: ARe

Excerpt:

Downe

“Good evening, Downe.”

Thomas Downe, the present Duke of Lynwood, smiled at the greeting from his friend. “Evening, Leicester. I’m surprised to see you here. The weather has been foul.”

Lord Leicester sat in the high wing-back chair next to his. They were the closest to the fire in the large study, and Downe appreciated the warmth after the chill of the winter’s day. “I was in London to see my solicitor. The rain was so heavy I’ve delayed my return to the country for a day or two. Can’t afford to lose another carriage to the mud.”

“Or the horses,” Downe said.

At the start of the winter, Leicester had been lucky to survive a serious accident after a landslip that had cost him a new carriage and pair.

“Or the horses,” Leicester agreed. “I thought I was going to lose my stable master. He was distraught after the accident. It was only the gift of Gideon’s foal that calmed him down.”

Downe smiled at his friend. “I’m only too pleased to restore calm in your household.”

Gideon was Downe’s prize bay stallion and giving his first foal was no small gift, but then Leicester was no ordinary friend. Downe would have given twice that to have his friend happy and laughing next to him.

Leicester looked speculatively at Downe. “If you don’t mind me saying, you look a little gloomy.”

“I—” Downe expelled a long breath. “I can’t deny I feel a little below par today.”

“For any particular reason?” Leicester smiled and murmured his thanks as a footman brought a pot of coffee and set it at the small table by his elbow.

Downe waited until the footman had poured the coffee and retreated before he answered. “’Twas my birthday a sennight ago.”

“Seven-and-twenty.” Leicester smiled. “I remember.”

“You always remember, my dear friend. You sent me a fine red.”

“More than one, as I recall. But why should that make you gloomy?”

Downe huffed loudly. “The Valentine’s Ball is in a few days.”

Leicester groaned just as loudly. “You think I don’t know? Charlotte and Elizabeth have driven me to distraction with their preparations.”

“They are coming?” Downe was surprised. Leicester’s wife and children spent most of the year in the country, none of them having a taste for Town.

“My eldest grandchild is being presented this year. They will be in town for the season.”

“I had no idea she was old enough to be presented to the king. The last time I saw, she was a mere slip of a thing.” Life was flying by far too quickly for Downe’s liking.

“To me she’s still a mere slip of a thing, as are you, my friend.”

Downe shook his head. “I am getting old, Monty. It is time I took a wife and started a family.”

Leicester frowned. “What brought this on? I thought matrimony was the last thing on your mind.”

“I’m….” Downe trailed off. In truth, the thought of a wife and squalling brats made him feel nauseous, but Leicester knew that as well as he did.

“Lonely?” Leicester suggested gently.

“Sometimes,” Downe agreed.

“It’s been a long time since you’ve been involved with anyone.”

“Over three years aside from the occasional visit to the Blue.”

The end of Downe’s last relationship had been so vicious, it had curdled his desire for another for a while. But “for a while” had extended beyond Downe’s expectations as he had dealt with the loss of his parents and his sister had been widowed and returned to the family household. The Blue, a brothel he had been visiting for many years, satiated his physical desires. The madam was handsomely paid to supply his demands and keep her mouth shut.

Leicester frowned, his green eyes fierce. “You don’t want a wife, Thomas.”

Downe smiled at him. “You only call me Thomas when you think I’m being stupid.”

“Or when we made love.”

Downe didn’t bother to look around to see if anyone was listening. They were in a safe place where they could be honest with each other. “Or when we made love. But that was a long time ago.”

Leicester leaned forward and took Downe’s hand. “Do you need…? We could go upstairs.”

Downe looked at their entwined hands. Despite the fact Leicester was fifteen years older than him, he was one of the most attractive men Downe had ever met, his dark hair graying slightly at the temples and green eyes framed by long lashes. A few years ago, he would have jumped at the opportunity to take Leicester to bed. As a young man, Downe had fallen desperately in love with Leicester, but age had brought wisdom and more than a little resignation. The attraction between them was mutual and occasionally flared into something physical, but they weren’t destined for anything long-term because Leicester’s heart belonged to someone else. Downe accepted their friendship as a blessing because Leicester had shown him how to be the man he was today.

He brushed the back of Leicester’s knuckles. “I am tempted,” he admitted, his voice hoarse in its honesty. “But it wouldn’t help. Not today.”

Leicester pressed a hot kiss into Downe’s palm. “I understand, my friend. I truly do.” He let go of Downe’s hand and sat back to signal for more coffee.

“If your wife is in town, will you be at the dinner tonight?” Downe asked.

“Of course. She has plans to visit my son. His wife is unwell, and she wants to check on her.”

“Will Asher be here?”

Leicester’s face softened as Downe mentioned the name of the man he had loved for over twenty years. They were the owners of the Gentlemen’s Club and an enigma Downe had never cracked. The love between them was passionate and fierce, but as far as everyone knew, they had never consummated it. They both had taken lovers over the years, yet their hearts remained only for each other.

“He will be.”

“I look forward to seeing him.”

Downe had been away from London for many weeks dealing with business interests at his various properties. He’d missed his weekly dinner at  the club and looked forward to reconnecting himself with his friends. “Tell me what’s been happening.”

“Did you hear about Walsey?” Leicester asked.

“No.”

“He was found balls-deep in some young whore when he should have been in Parliament.”

Downe wrinkled his brow. The Walsey he knew was a terrible bore and someone to avoid at all costs. “Deadly-dull, God-fearing Walsey?”

“The very same.”

“So he can get it up for a young filly. Good for him.”

Leicester’s lips twitched. “It wasn’t a young filly.”

Downe’s eyes opened wide. “He was screwing a boy? The old hypocrite!” Downe had been subject to many a lecture on sodomy when he’d had the misfortune to cross paths with Walsey.

“Caught hook, line, and sinker by his wife.”

“Where is he now?”

Leicester sobered. “He’s in Newgate.”

The amusement slid off Downe’s face. All of them faced the possibility of the same nightmare. Being caught with a man and sentenced to hard labor—or worse.

“What’s going to happen to him?”

“His wife is determined to have her pound of flesh.”

“Is there something we can do?”

“I don’t know, my friend. I really don’t know.”

They both knew that attempting to intervene laid them open to the same kind of charges.

“We should be extra careful,” Downe said.

“I agree, but that doesn’t mean you need to take a wife. Even at your vast age of seven-and-twenty. You have plenty of time to make that decision.”

“You were married with two children by my age,” Downe pointed out.

“Because I knew I could never have Asher.” Leicester gave a wry smile. “My wife is a remarkable woman.”

“She knows.”

It wasn’t a question. Downe had met Leicester’s wife on more than one occasion, and he knew that she was, as Leicester said, a remarkable woman, aware of where her husband’s true heart lay. She accepted it for a stable marriage, a beautiful home, two children, and many dogs. Downe knew that many wives among his acquaintance did the same. He didn’t like imposing that on any woman, but the alternative…. The alternative was Walsey’s fate.

It didn’t stop him being lonely, though.

Sue’s bio:

Sue Brown is owned by her dog and two children. When she isn't following their orders, she can be found plotting at her laptop. Sue discovered M/M romance at the time she woke up to find two men kissing on her favourite television series. The kissing was hot and tender and Sue wanted to write about this men. She may be late to the party, but she's made up for it since, writing fan fiction until she was brave enough to venture out into the world of original fiction.

Sue’s internet links

https://www.facebook.com/suebrownstories?fref=ts

https://twitter.com/suebrownstories

mailto:suebrown.stories@gmail.com

http://suebrownsstories.blogspot.co.uk/?zx=711a0a0202d37ef6

http://www.pinterest.com/suebrownstories/

https://www.goodreads.com/sue_brown

~~

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Texas Series

Book 1 - The Heart of Texas
Book 2 - Texas Winter
Book 3 - Texas Heat
Book 4 - Texas Family
Book 5 - Texas Christmas
Book 6 - Texas Fall

Buy Links - eBooks

Love Lane Books | Amazon (US) | Amazon (UK) | ARE | B & N | Kobo | Sony | Smashwords  |  iTunes 

Buy Links - Print Book

Amazon (US) | Amazon (UK)

Reviews

Night Owl Reviews - "....The writing flows in such a way that, if there are any bumps they are not noticed and the characters do not come across as singular aspects in that, while Jack is steady, he is also temperamental and caring. Riley may come across as lacking in confidence, but he draws strength from Jack and has a temper of his own.

Wonderful read...."

Top2Bottom Reviews 4/5 - Drama, humor, and a precocious child make for a heartwarming story of what it means to be a family, to trust and to protect those you love, even when you might not go about it in just the right way. Sometimes even the best of intentions can lead to mistakes, which Riley isn’t immune to, but it’s never in question that his family, his husband and daughter, are his number one priority ... For fans of The Heart of Texas, Texas Winter won’t disappoint.

Click cover to enlarge

Paperback Dolls - Overall, this was a fantastic read. The setting was familiar and beautifully depicted, the characters are dynamic, the plot is as thick as peanut butter, and the emotion driving each scene is enough to stop your heart. I actually DID cry while reading a few of the scenes in Texas Winter. R.J. Scott has a way of tugging at your heartstrings and making you feel as if you are experiencing the emotions of the characters as the story unfolds. I highly recommend this book.

Rainbow Book Reviews - If you like family drama, enjoy two men adapting to having an eight-year-old daughter, and don’t mind the odd criminal poking in their nose to stir things up, then you will probably love this book as much as I did. It really is a great sequel – just make sure you read Heart of Texas first, you'll enjoy this second book a lot more if you do. Bring on number three, RJ!!!

Crystal's Many Reviewers - 4/5 - "....Texas Winter was a joy to read. There is plenty of action and suspense, but it’s blended well with the sweetness that is Hayley and her entry into Riley and Jack’s life...."

Excerpt

Chapter 1

"The phone," Jack mumbled. Blindly reaching past Riley and fumbling for the offending item, he managed to grab and check who was calling—unknown number. Irritation shot through him, but he wasn't sure if it was at the offending caller or that Riley's phone wasn't on silent for their precious two hours of sleep. He could just imagine it was a freaking reporter, still after interviews even after all this time. A whole year had passed since Jeff's shooting, and the tabloid press remained hungry for Campbell-Hayes stories.

"What?" Riley was about as lucid as Jack and raised his head with half-open eyes. His blond hair was sleep mussed, and probably, Jack considered, sex mussed. His hazel eyes looked bloodshot, and in a second, it wasn't irritation Jack felt for Riley's inability to turn off his cell, but affection and love.

"Go back to sleep," he ordered. Riley didn't argue, and he lay back down on the pillow and resumed the rhythmic heavy breathing Jack had become used to. Jack tried to sleep himself, but even though the instant panic he had felt at the call had subsided, his brain refused to stop thinking. Cautiously he edged out of the huge bed and snuck a quick look at the early morning outside their villa. The Caribbean Sea was a sparkling sapphire blue, and the beach to the shore line was empty of a single soul.

When Riley had presented Jack with tickets for what he enthusiastically called a honeymoon, Jack had every single excuse under the sun ready to go. The horses needed him. His mom was getting too friendly with the veterinarian they used. Emily had started to talk, and they didn't want to miss that. Josh was busy with the newest addition to his family, baby Sarah, and couldn't watch the D. The ranch itself, the Double D, needed new fencing, and Jack had to be the one to do the work. Riley listened to every one. In fact, the excuses filled a good ten minutes. Jack said it wasn't even that he didn't want to go. Hell, the thought of any time alone with Riley sounded good to him. It was just… Kicking back and doing nothing? It would be a first for Jack, and the thought of it didn't sit comfortably. Riley, the bastard, did what he was good at. He said nothing at all and simply allowed Jack to get it all off his chest. Then he just looked at Jack with soulful eyes and a pleading expression on his face.

"It's only ten days, and I need the time with you." It had been such a simple statement, but it had been enough to win Jack to Riley's way of thinking in an instant. The last year had been full of ups and downs, but Jack's worries were so small compared to everything Riley had been through. His brother dying, his sister-in-law being responsible for his murder, and his father taking the blame before succumbing to cancer himself. Then there was the whole parentage issue with Beth's baby. Riley worked hard, and he and Jack played hard, but so often Riley would get lost in everything that had happened and guilt tripped him up on his face. Added to this, Riley was hip deep in working on the auction for exploration rights of tens of millions of acres of undersea minerals in the western Gulf of Mexico. As young as he was, Riley's expertise, and his position on the board of Hayes Oil was enough for his fledgling consultancy in ethical exploration for oil to grow exponentially. There had been too many days apart, and Jack didn't like to think of himself as clingy, but jeez, at least one full weekend together would be good.

"Okay, we'll go," Jack had finally agreed. And thank God he had. Because this meant he was with Riley in this paradise and he could slip open the door, step onto the golden sands, and then run to the water. Diving into the cerulean sea would be a sharp cold slap in the face at this time of the morning, but there were only two better ways to wake up in Jack's opinion—either lying with Riley's arms wrapped around him or standing at the corral fence and watching the Texas dawn spread over his land. He unlocked the door and opened it quietly.

"Don't go."

Jack stopped at the words and looked back at the bed where he had left a comatose Riley, expecting to see his lover, his husband, awake but sleepy. Instead he got an eyeful of sheets pushed back to reveal six-four of tanned muscled naked Riley. Not only that, but Riley had a hand around a rather impressive morning erection and had the biggest, most suggestive grin on his face Jack had seen since yesterday morning's welcoming smile.

"I wanted a swim," Jack said.

"And I want you naked and draped over me." Riley arched up into his fist, and it was a beautiful sight—his husband naked and ready, acres of warm, toned skin available to touch.

"Is that supposed to make me stay, het-boy?" Jack belied the joking words as he locked the door and let the drapes fall back, the room moving from lighter to darker in an instant. It wasn't dark enough to hide the mouthwatering sight of Riley Campbell-Hayes running his hand up and down himself and arching his back into the motion. Riley reached out with his free hand and grabbed the nearly empty bottle of lube from the bedside cabinet. He aimed and then threw the lube at Jack, who caught it deftly.

"One of us is overdressed." Riley looked pointedly at the shorts Jack had pulled on to go for a swim. Jack pasted an innocent look on his face and pushed the shorts down his legs until they pooled on the floor. If he took a little extra time to do so, then sue him. Riley wasn't the only one who could tease.

"What do you want me to do with this?" Jack indicated the lube in his hand. He climbed as gracefully as he could onto the bed and straddled Riley's knees, taking his fill of the striking toned body laid out under him. From wide shoulders to narrow hips, broad chest to an impressive dick, Riley was perfection personified. Not to mention the slight scattering of dark blond hair on Riley's chest and two dark-tinted nipples there waiting to be sucked and bitten.

"It's my turn, cowboy," Riley said, "so I'm guessin' you need to be gettin' on with some fingers in your ass." Jack loved it when Riley was so turned on his accent slid from educated city boy to pure Texan cowboy in an instant.

"Your turn, huh?" Jack began seriously. He opened the lube and poured more than a generous amount on his fingers. They may well have made love last night and into the morning, but shit, Riley's dick was freaking huge, and he really needed to make sure he was stretched enough to be comfortable.

"Check the notches on my side of the headboard." Riley arched into his fist and ran his tongue over his bottom lip, leaving a slide of glistening moisture. It was an invitation Jack couldn't refuse. Despite the hottest sex he had ever experienced in his life with a lover who didn't hold back, at the end of the day, it was the intimacy of kissing Jack ached to share. He leaned down and traced the path of Riley's tongue with his own, pulling at his husband's lower lip with his teeth and releasing the plump skin. The kisses deepened, and as they kissed, Jack was leaning on one hand and using the other to loosen and lubricate himself. His dick was ready, leaking and so freaking hard. Every so often it brushed Riley's in electric contact. His husband's hand snaked around Jack, joining Jack's fingers and stretching with him. With the feel of the digits inside him and the lube, Jack was panting his need into Riley's mouth way too fast. He pushed himself down on Riley's fingers then raised himself off, before shuffling higher up the bed and using his lubed hand to line Riley up. In seconds they were together, Riley buried so far inside, and the shock of pain and discomfort dissipating in the desperation of need and want. Jack set the rhythm, leaning in briefly for more kisses and then sitting up. Riley wrapped his hands around his dick, and he closed his eyes. The sight and sound of Riley arching and moaning and pleading was going to send him over the edge far too fast to stop.

"Open your eyes," Riley pleaded. All Jack could do was shake his head. "Please. Open them. See me when we come together." Jack's orgasm was building, and with thrust after thrust, completion came closer. Riley's hand on his dick became more erratic. This was a sure sign he was close, and finally, Jack opened his eyes. Riley's face was flushed red, his eyes wide, his mouth slack, and Jack let himself go. With a final move, a twist and the scrape of Riley's dick over his prostate, he lost it hot and wet over Riley's stomach. The tensing of his muscles sent Riley high and the feeling of being filled was exquisite.

"I love you, Jack."

"I love you too," Jack answered as he pulled off as gently as he could and slid boneless to one side of Riley. "God, I love you."



* * * *



Laughing like kids, they grabbed swim shorts and suntan lotion and set off for the beach. Jack packed a bag with towels and books and a multitude of other vital beach stuff. Riley picked up his phone, but after a second's consideration, which Jack watched without making it obvious, he simply dropped it in the top drawer. They only had two more days here, and Jack was relieved Riley was finally letting go of the office.

They spent all day at the shoreline, talking, planning and discussing the family.

"He's a nice guy," Riley offered carefully. Jack shook his head in denial.

"He's twenty years younger than Mom," Jack had the age gap worked out to the nearest day in his head the minute his mom revealed she had affection for Neil Kendrick, the new veterinary at the horse practice they used.

"But he makes her happy."

"He's living in a one-room rental."

"He only moved there three months ago, give him a break."

"He's not what I want for her."

"It's her choice."

"It might be a money thing. Maybe I should get a PI to check him out."

"For God's sake, Jack, you can't get a PI to check out the vet just because your momma is sweet on him."

Jack subsided into silence as he couldn't think of what say. It wasn't that he didn't want his mom to be happy. He did. Beth and Josh had families, he had Riley, and she had spent so much time being there for her family she had left herself on her own. Neil seemed like a nice enough guy, so maybe he should listen to Riley or have a quiet word. Jeez. It was the age gap… that was all. He looked over at Riley who was face down on the towel. Every second Riley was out here he lost more of the office pallor he wore so well. He was turning brown as a nut.

"I'm not saying you're right," Jack offered grudgingly. "But he's a nice enough guy, good with horses. I'll…" When his voice trailed off, Riley looked up at him expectantly. "I'll try. Okay?"

Riley smiled his approval and then clambered to stand. "I'm hungry," he said, and patted his stomach to emphasize his words.

"You're always hungry," Jack muttered as he used Riley's offered hand to stand up. They hugged quickly, and Jack luxuriated in the expanse of Riley's warm skin. Hugging for no other reason than to feel was good. They finally pulled apart to pick up the items they'd bought with them

"Shower. Food. Nap. Sex." Riley counted off the options in order on his fingers, and slowly, hand in hand, they made their way back to the weathered villa at the tree line.

The shower was heaven, the food was delivered as they dried off, and they consumed it all with uncurbed enthusiasm. The nap was more cuddling and talking than actual sleeping and was only disturbed when Riley's phone sounded again from the drawer.

"I'm expecting a call from Travers and the consortium," Riley explained. With a wryly apologetic expression on his face he opened the drawer and pulled out the iPhone, glancing down at the screen and double-taking as he read. Jack read over his shoulder.

"Twelve missed calls and three voicemails?" Jack said. "Is this consortium thing a problem for you?" Riley hadn't said much about the latest consultation he was involved in apart from the usual. Setting up CH Consultancy had been tough on Riley on top of everything else. He was in the house office one hell of a lot, and his cell phone was his constant companion.

"Not really," Riley answered. "Thought it was done and dusted before we left for here." He thumbed to his voicemail. The list only had one name on it—Eden Hayes. Jack watched as Riley listened to his voicemails, watching his husband's reaction for any clues as to what the problem was. Riley just looked more and more confused each second that went past.

Then he went white. Literally every single element of color left his face, and he dropped the cell. It fell to the floor and bounced to a stop next to the mini fridge.

"Ri?" Jack said, shocked. Riley didn't say a thing. He just stared at Jack with a mixture of loss and utter shock. "What is it? Talk to me." Still no reply, and Jack was growing more scared. "Is it the family? Eden? Beth's baby? What?"

"It was Eden," Riley finally offered. His voice was dead flat with no emotion. "She's sending the jet. We have to go home." Riley stood and crossed to the suitcases, opening his and scooping clothes from the closet haphazardly into the space. Jack wasn't sure what to say, but actions spoke louder than words. He stopped Riley with a firm grip on muscled arms, and he pushed himself into Riley's space.

"What's wrong? Tell me what's happened." He shook Riley slightly to snap him out of whatever shock was driving the instinct to pack and not talk. Riley blinked his way back to this world, and sorrow filled his eyes. It was a heartbreaking expression, and Jack had seen it too many times since meeting Riley to not know something terrible must have happened. He put two and two together and came up with the only solution that would make sense in all of this. "Did they find out about what Lisa did?" No one outside of a few members of the family knew it had been Jeff's wife who had shot him, as Riley's father had taken the fall. If anyone found it out now, it would mean ruin for far too many people with secrets.

"No. It's me."

"You?"

"God. I'm so sorry. I didn't know." Riley's face held so much grief.

"Ri, you're scaring me."

"Eden said…" Riley twisted his fingers into his short hair, closing his eyes.

"What!"

"A daughter." Riley opened his eyes, and his expression was anguished. "Fuck, Jack. I have a daughter."

Chapter 2

"What?" Jack was shocked, and that was an understatement. He wasn't sure what Riley had said was actually what he'd heard. Maybe he'd heard wrong?

"The calls. All of them. They were from Eden. The child's great aunt has been trying to contact me through her. Shit, Jack. There's a letter that says I'm the dad."

"When?" Words of one syllable seemed to fit the moment. A dad? Riley couldn't have fathered a kid since they'd married. Riley hadn't had time to cat around on him. No. He dismissed the instant reaction with an internal flush of shame. Riley wouldn't do that anyway. They loved each other.

"She's eight," Riley said much to Jack's relief and then slumped to the bed, his elbows resting on his knees and his head in his hands.

"Okay. So you were what? Twenty?"

"College. The woman—girl—Lexie, she was in my business course. I remember the name."

Jack bit his tongue to follow this line of thought. Given what he knew of Riley's past, remembering a name in all of this was a good thing. Riley's time before his marriage had been one long party.

"So you have a letter. That doesn't prove anything. We'll get blood tests. Fight it if you need to."

Riley looked up at him, grim determination bracketing his mouth.

"I remember her," he said. "Lexie, I mean. She was just someone I hooked up with, but it lasted longer than most. For nearly three months. I liked her. Jeez, I even took her home for Easter, introduced her to my family, for what it was worth. She was normal, you know, not society, not a daughter of someone who thought a lot of themselves. Just a girl I sat next to in business studies." Riley frowned as he spoke. "She disappeared. Just up and left a few weeks after the break, left some note about moving colleges and thanks, but no thanks."

"She left you when she was pregnant then?"

"I don't know. Her note was brief."

"You didn't suspect she was pregnant?"

Riley shook his head. "No, and I was always so careful. Always."

"Not everything works one hundred percent of the time, Ri. You know that." Jack hadn't meant to say anything so bluntly, but he was trying his hardest to find the right thing to say.

"Shit," Riley said miserably.

"Look, she may be testing the waters to see how much money she can get from you, and getting a paternity test is easy. Worst-case scenario, if she's entitled to any of your money for child support, then it can be cleared up one way or the other out of court. Best case, it'll prove you're in the clear." Riley stared back at him with wide eyes. Laying out the extremes was something he felt Riley should hear. Jack expected him to agree, but what Riley said next rocked Jack to the core.

"She's not going to be fighting it." Riley closed his eyes. "She's dead Jack. That's why Eden called me. They were at the house. With Lexie's daughter. Her name is Hayley. Funny that. She'd be Hayley Hayes." Jack dropped to his knees between Riley's legs, looking up at him. The last part sounded like Riley was close to losing his cool. In his shock, all his words were staccato.

"Whatever this is, we can get through it." Unspoken was the "together" he'd left off at the end of the sentence.

"What if she's actually mine? What will I do?" Riley was looking to Jack for reassurance. For just the right words that would make this all seem okay. Jack's heart clenched and emotion choked his throat. Inside, he'd always known one day something from Riley's past would come back and kick them both to the curb. Something from his old Hayes Oil days, something in Jeff's death, anything but a freaking child born to an ex. Still, it didn't change how Jack felt, and his instant reaction was one of "we'll get through this".

"We," Jack offered simply. He emphasized the single word with a gentle poke to Riley's broad chest. "You mean what will we do?"

"I don't…" Riley began and then stopped, unable to meet Jack's gaze. Jack wasn't going to waste time wondering what space Riley was disappearing into. He needed cold hard facts to make decisions here. "I don't know what is going to happen here. I don't know anything. Eden just said I need to get home."

"Let's go." Jack injected as much encouragement into his voice as he could find, and leaving Riley sitting in numb and silent shock, he began to pack.



* * * *



The Hayes Oil jet was stationary at the end of the island's runway. Jack couldn't help but remember another time he had walked to the jet with similar shock inside him. That time he had been on his way to an arranged marriage with a man who was blackmailing him. This time he was trying to filter everything dumped on Riley in a freaking phone call, and it wasn't easy. Riley was deadly quiet, and Jack didn't know what to say. His husband was lost in thought and looking more and more distressed as time passed. Jack didn't know what would be best to do, but he didn't want to lose Riley to memories. Jack was a man who made decisions on evidence, and a small part of him considered the matter something he couldn't concentrate on until they were aware of all the facts. They boarded in silence, Riley obviously deep in thought, and were in the air in ten minutes and on their way back home.

"Shit," Riley swore as he undid his belt and started pacing the stark interior of the jet. Jack removed his own belt and leaned forward in his seat. He waited. Riley had every right to get everything out of his system, and as much as Jack wanted to stop Riley from losing it, he stopped himself from interfering. Jack expected more swearing and blustering and was completely blown away when all Riley did was slump down in the seat opposite his and bury his head in his hands. "I'm really sorry." Riley's emotions were so close to the surface Jack could feel every single one of them.

"Stop apologizing," he ordered. He hated it when Riley felt like he needed to keep saying sorry.

"Sorry," Riley instantly said, and then smiled briefly at his reaction. "Okay, I won't do any more apologizing," he added, and then he sat upright and stared straight at Jack.

"How are you feeling?" Jack asked. Whether his husband would be able to vocalize how he was feeling was another matter altogether. Riley Campbell-Hayes was good at the art of saying nothing and internalizing everything.

"Pissed. Sad. Scared," Riley answered after a brief pause. Well, a start, Jack thought. Riley appeared to have most of the natural emotions after a shock in one hit. "We need to talk." Riley leaned forward in the seat and looked more serious and earnest than Jack had ever seen him. "I've been thinking, just from the instant reaction of it all. It's way more than you signed on for. If she's mine—if she's a Hayes—or hell, even if she isn't mine, but she's alone? I couldn't turn her away."

"I know you couldn't, Ri." Compassion filled Jack as he saw the decisions flying across Riley's expression. His husband could no more turn away a child than Jack could.

"So what I wanted to say is…" Riley sighed, and reached for Jack's hand, which he gripped tightly. "I won't hold you to anything, and I would understand if you decided an instant child—a daughter—was too much." The words came out in a rush of emotion, and it took a few seconds for Jack to filter through the meaning of what Riley was saying. When he did finally understand what Riley was saying, Jack didn't know what to feel first—pissed that Riley thought Jack would back off or proud that Riley wasn't questioning this child's place somewhere in his own life. Pride won over, along with a healthy dose of affection.

"Okay," Jack said carefully. He mimicked Riley's stance and leaned forward. "Come closer so I can hit you for being stupid. Do you think that would that help?"

"Hit me?" Shock appeared to push through the glassy-eyed sincerity Riley had been trying for. He glanced down where Jack's hands were resting on the arms of the seat and then back up at Jack. This time his expression held uncertainty.

"I'm going to say this once," Jack said carefully. "You are my husband, and what happens to you, happens to me. Does that make it clear?"

Riley nodded. "It does. I'm just so tired."

"We haven't slept for a while. We're gonna need clear heads back home so maybe we should try and get some rest?"

"I don't think I can." Riley held himself stiffly as Jack tugged on his hand and took him to the couch at the back of the jet. It was dark and soft and incredibly comfortable and dead opposite a huge flat screen TV. Jack flicked to a music channel, and the two men sat side by side. Within minutes, Riley was leaning in against Jack and had closed his eyes in slumber.

Jack didn't join him in sleep for a while. His brain was as full as it had been this morning. This time though there was a fresh worry inside him and a new space for contemplation. He hadn't been joking when he'd said he could have smacked Riley for thinking he'd back away at the first sign of trouble. He chalked it up to shock, though, and thought little more on the matter. Instead, he concentrated on the little girl who had been bought to Dallas looking for a daddy. Children were something dancing around the edges of his life plans. To maybe adopt and to extend his family with Riley was one part of his future. He just hadn't taken the thoughts any further, including not mentioning them to Riley. Hayley may well be a destined part of their family. It wouldn't be easy taking on an eight-year-old whose momma had just died. She was currently being taken care of by an aunt, and she had lost her momma. Jack's heart ached for the little girl and her big world of scary monsters.

Riley interrupted his thoughts by murmuring in his sleep. Jack strained to listen but couldn't make out the restless words. Compassion welled inside just because he felt sure Riley's dreams were not good ones. Wondering whether he should wake up his husband, he rested a hand on Riley's arm, but instead of shaking his lover awake, he smoothed a hand up and down over taut muscles in a rhythmic motion. He didn't stop until Riley turned closer and buried his face in the juncture of Jack's neck and shoulder. Shifting slightly, he allowed himself to sink lower in the sofa, Riley naturally curling into him and following the movement. Lulled by Riley's rhythmic breathing and the huff of each breath warm on his neck, it didn't take Jack long to chase him into sleep.