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  It seemed pretty unlikely Ashe could be connected to any of that. For one thing, he claimed his troubles had begun months ago, and that was something that could be easily verified.

  Besides, Ashe was genuinely afraid; that had been plain to Taylor. And really, that was all that mattered. Ashe needed help, and Taylor owed him that much.

  Their meals came, and within a few bites of meltingly tender black & bleu filet mignon, Taylor’s mood lifted. Will stopped looking quite so bleak and ordered a third round of drinks.

  They were halfway through their dinners when Will said thoughtfully, “He doesn’t really seem like your type.”

  “What’s my type?”

  “Me,” Will said promptly, and Taylor gave a little huff.

  But Will was smiling at him, teasing, though maybe a bit tentative—they had come way too close to really arguing earlier. Taylor smiled back. After all, it was perfectly true. And Will, with his chiseled, square-jawed handsomeness—alert and amused blue eyes, boyish sweep of glossy brown hair—was about as far from Ashe’s edgy, sensual, and slightly dissolute appeal as it got.

  “Maybe we were just friends,” Taylor suggested.

  “No. Not the way he looked at you.” Will shook his head. Started to say ruefully, “And…”

  Taylor glanced at him. “And?”

  “There was a note in your voice.”

  “A note in my voice?”

  What did that mean? Was Will jealous? No. Will knew perfectly well he came first for Taylor and had from practically the minute they’d been teamed. Will had never doubted Taylor’s feelings for him, just his ability to keep his pants zipped in the face of temptation. To mix a metaphor or two.

  Anyway, he didn’t want to dwell on old resentments. Not everything could be resolved. Sometimes you just had to let go of the hurt and move on.

  Will said, still smiling, still rueful, but something was going on there, “You sounded very happy to see him.”

  “Well, yeah. Sure.” He had been glad to see Ashe. Ashe had been a little wild, a little reckless back in the day. Taylor had wondered and even worried a bit about him over the years. Maybe not as much as he should have, but he had been very glad to see Ashe was okay.

  He circled back to the safer ground of Will’s earlier comment. “Anyway, he’s not my type. Now. But it was college. I didn’t have a type.”

  “Sure you did.”

  Taylor’s smile twisted, but okay. Maybe. “He was different. I was different.” He shrugged.

  “What happened?”

  It was a fair question, given that Ashe was sort of their client, but Will had never shown any interest in Taylor’s romantic attachments before. In fact, he’d always been studiously not interested.

  Taylor said, “It wasn’t like you and Madonna. We weren’t childhood sweethearts.”

  “Yeowch.”

  “Just sayin’. It only lasted a year. There weren’t any plans for a future together. I knew I’d be going into the DS.”

  “What was Ashe planning to do after college?”

  “He hadn’t decided. I was four years ahead of him.”

  Will’s brows rose. “You’re kidding. I thought for sure he was older than you.”

  “Nope. Anyway, I graduated, went into the DS as planned, and that was that. My first posting abroad was Japan.”

  No further explanations needed. Will knew all about Japan. Come to think of it, given the messy nature of some of his romantic entanglements, no wonder Will didn’t want to know more than he already did.

  Will said, “I see. How did the pledge of eternal fealty come about?” His tone was light, but yeah, there was a faint edge.

  Taylor controlled his impatience. He wasn’t enjoying this, but he did not want secrets between himself and Will. Even if the truth was liable to confirm some of Will’s misgivings. “Ashe wasn’t out before he met me. I mean, neither of us were. Officially. But he hadn’t ever been with anyone. He was…emotionally vulnerable in a way I wasn’t.” Taylor met Will’s bright and curious gaze. “I did care for him, but I wasn’t in love. He was.”

  Painfully so. He didn’t like remembering. Even now.

  “I see.”

  Taylor said—he needed Will to understand this, “It wasn’t just something I said. I meant it. About being there for him if he ever needed me.”

  “I know you did,” Will said. “You never say anything you don’t mean.”

  Well, that was maybe an exaggeration, but it was true he didn’t make promises carelessly.

  They turned their attention back to their meals. To Taylor’s relief, when Will spoke again, he was back to business.

  “You know, we probably need to think about bringing a cyber security expert on board sooner rather than later. All the top firms offer cyber security now.”

  Truth. Gone were the days when firewalls and antivirus software could keep a company’s secrets safe. In their technically reliant society, cybersecurity risk was growing exponentially, driven by global connectivity and usage of cloud services to store sensitive data. Increasingly sophisticated cyber criminals meant the risk to organizations, both large and small, was steadily on the rise. While there were no national laws overseeing data breach disclosure, every state had their own data breach laws, with California leading the way since 2003. If they were really going to be a world-class contender, they were going to have to take a serious look at providing cyber security.

  Frankly, something Taylor had zero interest in.

  He didn’t say that, of course. What would be the point? They were all in now. No turning back. Not professionally. Not personally.

  He said instead, “Who do we know looking to make a career change?”

  “Let me think. Lousy hours, lousy pay, lousy benefits. Who wouldn’t jump at that?”

  Taylor grinned because they had both jumped at that.

  Will met his eyes, smiled in wry acknowledgment. “I don’t know, but the market is only going to get more competitive for prospective employers. We should put feelers out.”

  A tiring thought. Taylor nodded, his thoughts circling back to their meeting that day. “Webster’s IT team manager got pretty defensive at the suggestion that cyber security should be its own department.”

  “Predictable.”

  “Nobody wants to think the threat could come from within, but that’s the truth.”

  “Yep.”

  Will’s cell rang. He checked it, and his face went blank. Of course, that very lack of expression was a tell to someone who knew him as well as Taylor.

  “Who’s that?” Taylor asked, just to turn the knife a little.

  “No one important.” Will put his cell down and met Taylor’s gaze steadily.

  Taylor’s grin was crooked. “I guess Bradley’s back from parts unknown?”

  “Probably.”

  Taylor let it go. It wasn’t Will’s fault that his ex-boyfriend couldn’t seem to come to terms with Will having moved on. Or at least, it wasn’t completely Will’s fault.

  Riley, Will’s German shepherd, was beside himself with joy when they finally walked through the Craftsman bungalow Taylor had restored with periodic help from Will.

  “Hey, Riley. Hey, boy,” Will said wearily. It had been a long-ass day. And tomorrow looked to be even longer.

  They shrugged out of their jackets as the dog ran circles around them, whining his complaints about the hours they were keeping. It turned out their work schedule was hard on the whole family.

  “I’m going to take him for a walk on the beach,” Will announced.

  Taylor, sorting through the mail, looked up, studying him. Will’s attention was on Riley, and his expression seemed remote.

  And honestly? Taylor didn’t have the energy to deal with it. Assuming there was anything going on there besides fatigue.

  “Sure. Watch yourself.”

  Will nodded, hesitated, then called to Riley, who slid magic-carpet style on the hallway rug in his hurry to get out the front door.
/>   Taylor went back to sorting the mail, absently listening to the front door close, Will’s deep voice checking Riley’s enthusiasm, the jingle of Riley’s tags, and Will’s footsteps growing fainter.

  There wasn’t much of interest in the day’s post. Not even many bills, thanks to the loan from Richard. There were a couple of Christmas-card-shaped envelopes, one from his insurance company and one with David Bradley’s return address.

  Taylor scowled at Bradley’s machine-precise cursive, propped the envelope against the coffee machine, where Will couldn’t miss it, and turned his attention to their phone messages. Not much excitement there either—mostly those annoying “Hello? Hello?” spam calls.

  No question life was quieter now that they were civilians. But that wasn’t a bad thing. In fact, knowing odds were good they’d both live to make old bones was one of the best things about their sudden career change. And landing the Webster Fidelity account was a huge coup. It was the kind of thing they had been talking about since they’d opened shop.

  So why this sense of almost…letdown?

  He shook off the feeling impatiently. He was just tired. They both were. Plus, red meat did not really agree with him, and they were eating a lot of red meat lately. Will gravitated to meat and potatoes when he was stressed. And yes, they were stressed. They’d be stupid not to be. Although Will was equally energized. Will had really wanted the Webster Fidelity account, and he’d worked his ass off to land it. He’d been jubilant today. Whereas Taylor…

  Well, naturally he was jubilant too. He just wasn’t used to feeling out of his element, and he’d definitely felt out of his element at that afternoon’s meeting.

  Besides which, if he’d wanted to work in the corporate world, he’d have taken his stepfather Richard up on one of his many offers to join the family firm.

  But what was the use in thinking like this? Taylor shook off his reflections. The main thing he had wanted was for him and Will to be working together again, so what did it matter what the job was?

  It didn’t.

  He washed up the breakfast dishes left in the sink, showered, tossed a load of laundry into the washing machine. Will and Riley were still not back by the time Taylor finally climbed into bed. He stretched out on the king-size mattress with a groan of relief. His body was not designed to sit on its ass all day in a conference-room chair.

  Absently, he listened to the wet thump of the washer, staring at the ceiling, considering Ashe’s sudden reappearance.

  It was odd.

  Will was right about that. But Ashe had always been a little odd. Or maybe odd wasn’t the right word.

  Okay, yeah, odd. And impulsive. And kind of careless. Easy to see how he had made a bad situation worse with Mike Zamarion and his crew.

  But Ashe was also smart, funny, good company, and surprisingly easygoing. Most of the time. The sex had been crazy good. Sometimes just crazy. But mostly really good. Their twelve-hour marathon of goodbye sex had been the best in Taylor’s life—up to the point of Will.

  Of course, that was first love for you. Mostly on Ashe’s part, but Taylor had loved him. In his way. Admittedly, back then, his way had been pretty self-serving. So what? They had been two horny young college guys. Nobody had plighted their troth or anything.

  What had Ashe been doing living in Europe?

  Taylor hoped he was not making the wrong choice by insisting they could handle Ashe’s case and still deliver for Webster Fidelity. He did not want to let Will down.

  Will.

  That was another point of concern.

  Will had definitely not warmed to Ashe. He was not jealous by nature, even if he did suffer the occasional flash of insecurity when it came to Taylor’s sexual past. It had to be his concerns about Taylor’s decision to take on additional work when they were already stretched so thin. A legit worry. It was Taylor’s responsibility to make sure Will’s qualms remained unrealized.

  They were in a good place right now—it had taken effort to get there—and he did not want to jeopardize that. However, not to hold on to old grudges, but Jesus, didn’t he deserve some room to maneuver, given how much latitude he’d given Will over good old Lt. Commander David Bradley? Not to mention a few other missteps by his partner that he was doing his best to forget?

  But maybe he was anticipating problems where there weren’t any. There was every possibility he’d get Ashe’s situation sorted out within a day. Certainly, before the end of the week. If there was one thing more than a decade in the DSS had taught him, it was that most problems were solved through communication. Diplomacy in Action.

  He blinked sleepily against the increasing weight of his eyelids.

  First thing he was going to do was find out for sure whether there really was an arson report…

  He came awake when the mattress dipped beneath Will’s weight. The room and hallway beyond were in total darkness, the gap in the curtains offering a glimpse of stars and Will’s pale outline easing down beside him.

  Taylor mumbled, “What time is it?”

  “Shh,” Will soothed. “Still plenty of nighttime.”

  Good news because sleep was in short supply these days. Even so, he was coming back to alertness, aware that it was much later, that Will had been gone hours.

  Will must have had a lot to think about that evening, must have put in several miles of sandy contemplation. Or he’d been making phone calls he didn’t want Taylor to overhear.

  “Everything okay?”

  “Everything’s good.” Will kissed him. It was a soft kiss. Tender. Almost apologetic. Was Will sorry for being gone so long or for the things he had been thinking while he’d been gone so long?

  “You sure?” Taylor put his hand against Will’s cheek—Will’s eyes were a gleam in the shadows.

  “I’m sure.” Will kissed him again, and Taylor responded with quick, ready hunger—there were more important things than sleep, after all.

  The rough velvet of their jaws rubbed against each other, the butterfly flutter of eyelashes brushing eyelashes, the warm bump of noses and mouths…and other things.

  “Sorry,” Will whispered. “Sorry for being a jerk this evening.”

  Taylor moved his head in negation. “No. You were right. It wasn’t only my decision.”

  “A promise is a promise.”

  True. But.

  “Yeah, and I promise I’ll get Ashe’s problems wrapped up ASAP.”

  Taylor felt Will’s mouth curve, maybe in a smile, maybe in acknowledgment, maybe thinking the joke was on Taylor. Will kissed him again, promised, “We’ll work it out together. He’s my client too.”

  That was the Will he knew and loved. Taylor’s heart expanded with gratitude at being met more than halfway. He nodded.

  Their mouths gentled, lingered, tasting—Will was peppermint-flavored with bourbon undertones—taking a moment to savor what they had. It had taken them long enough to get here.

  Will traced Taylor’s mouth with his fingertips, slowly traced his cheekbones, his eyebrows, not exploration, more a slow and thoughtful confirmation. Taylor could feel each fleeting caress after Will moved on. Was that what they meant by cell memory? Because every cell in his body recognized Will’s touch; could not imagine any circumstance where he would not know Will from anyone else, everyone else. Even the first day they’d met, he’d had a sense of discovery, a feeling that this was what—who—he’d been waiting for.

  Not that he’d waited—clearly—which was occasionally part of the problem for Will.

  He nipped Will’s finger, and felt Will’s smile. Will whispered, “I really do love you.” There had been a time when he had struggled with saying the words aloud.

  “I had an idea you might.”

  But Will was serious, even earnest. “Don’t ever think I take you for granted.”

  Until that moment, the thought had never occurred to Taylor, but okay.

  Will lowered his head, and they kissed again. Taylor shoved up the soft cotton folds of Will’s He
nley to stroke the hard, muscular planes of Will’s naked back, slid down over Will’s hips to the opening in his sleep pants, arrowing in on soft skin, hard muscle. Will groaned, reciprocating, tugging at the band of Taylor’s boxers, dragging them down, stopping as Taylor’s gulp of pleasure turned to protest when elastic band met rigid cock.

  Will muttered breathless apology, still plucking clumsily at the thin cotton, and Taylor started to laugh, lifting up, allowing for less perilous access. The heady scents of body-heated flannel and imminent sex rose with him. The bedclothes floated up, ghostlike, as Will laughed too, breathlessly, wriggling to free himself from his pajama bottoms, which he did in a couple of desperate heaves.

  They landed back in each other’s arms, their cocks rigid and swollen, and the laughter dried as they humped against each other, hips grinding, backs laboring, shivering and shoving against each other in that desperate struggle for release.

  Always the same, always different.

  Their mouths fastened once more, the kiss deeper, hotter, tongues twining, suddenly starving for each other, eating each other alive.

  Taylor arched into Will’s thrust, and they found their rhythm—practice made perfect—push-me-pull-you-ing into each other’s touch, feverish with the need for connection, urgent with the necessity for the most intimate of intimacies.

  Will groaned against his ear, a hot, moist gust of pained delight. Taylor pulled him closer, arms wrapping tight, licking Will’s throat, nibbling beneath his chin, moaning half-hearted remonstrance when Will sucked him back on the side of his neck, hard, wet suction that would leave a mark for sure.

  Bodies writhing, cocks rubbing, muscular chests pushing against each other, moving together with the ease of practice, sex not any less pleasurable for being a familiar and reliable source of comfort and release. Will nuzzled velvety kisses against Taylor’s throat, bent his head to tongue Taylor’s nipples, reached down and took Taylor’s wet-slick cock in his hand. It didn’t take more than a stroke or two before Taylor arched, seeming to light up, his body taut and trembling, crying out.