When Scott Trask gets a job at his law firm, Preston Reynolds begins to feel the same attraction he felt for his best friend’s younger brother years earlier. But he couldn't be sexually attracted to the young man. Preston isn't gay.
Scott has been in love with Preston for years, but just because Preston is now divorced doesn’t mean he’s available. Yet soon enough, they surrender to their desires, and begin a passionate affair.
At first, Scott thinks he can handle it when Preston wants to keep their private life together a secret but he’s wrong. Then when Preston promises to change, there is hope. Sort of. Preston has a tough choice. Learn to accept himself at long last or risk losing Scott forever.
Preston glanced at his watch.
Nine thirty.
Not a peep came from Scott’s office. Was he even in yet? He hadn’t seen Scott since they’d gone to breakfast the morning before. Preston had been in the office for more than an hour, had seen Jack come in forty-five minutes ago, but he hadn’t seen or heard Scott.
Had Scott been out late last night? Picking up strangers in a bar or something? Preston grimaced. What a fucking judgmental prick he’d become. If Scott had been out with some new lover, it was not Preston’s business. It had absolutely nothing to do with him.
Still ... his chest ached just a bit thinking about it. Stupid.
His hand rose of its own accord and rapped lightly on the door.
“Come in.” Scott’s deep voice came from the other side.
Startled, Preston didn’t move for several heartbeats. Then he twisted the knob and opened the door.
Scott sat behind the mahogany desk, dressed in a navy suit jacket that molded to his body. Underneath the jacket he wore a crisp, lighter-blue pinstriped dress shirt and a pale-pink silk tie. Tucked into the pocket of the jacket was a matching pale-pink handkerchief. His dark sandy-blond hair had been expertly combed without a strand out of place. The only sign that Scott was still in there was the stubble covering his face.
Preston stared, knowing his jaw was hanging open but unable to close it. “Holy crap.”
Scott glanced up from the papers in front of him on his desk. He smiled slow and easy. Something pooled in Preston’s stomach that masqueraded as desire.
“Good morning, Pres.”
Preston couldn’t make his mouth work just yet. Couldn’t wrap his mind around the plain fact his cock was now straining against his briefs. He was hard, damn it.
“Pres?”
“Uh, morning,” Preston finally managed to mutter. He had to get out of this office and fast. He did not want Scott to notice his erection and mistake it for ... ah, fuck.
“Something wrong?” Scott asked, frowning.
“No. No. No.” Christ, now he was babbling. “I didn’t realize you were in the office yet. Nice job on the suit. Did your dad help you pick it out?”
Scott grinned and shrugged. “He helped a bit. But honestly I think what helped more was watching that show Queer Eye for the Straight Guy before.”
“Well, you look great ... er ... good. Serious. You look very serious.” His cheeks flamed.
“I’m always serious when I’m going over numbers, Pres,” Scott said, indicating the papers. “Client billings.”
“Right.” Preston blew out a breath carefully. “You’re a CPA, I hear.”
“Yep. I’m not just all looks.”
Preston blinked, realized he still held on to the doorknob and he was squeezing it so tightly he was surprised it didn’t come off in his hand. “So, I’ll see you around, Scott.”
Scott raised an eyebrow, then shrugged. “Okay. I’ll let you know as soon as I have anything on Mrs. Windham’s grandson.”
“Good.” Preston stepped out into the hall and closed the door of Scott’s office. He was actually shaking. He leaned against the wall a moment.
You’ve just been without sex for too long. No need to panic.
Preston nodded. That really was all there was to it. Sure, he’d had some mild fantasies about Scott before. All men were curious about other men. Weren’t they? It was perfectly natural to check out other guys.
He straightened and headed back to his own office. He had to think of something to make his raging hard-on go away before his next appointment. His ex-wife maybe. Or more specifically, the thought of having to pay alimony would deflate any man.
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