What Chris Wants

“Ha!” He splashed her again, this time drenching her hair. “You’re one to talk.”

Mouth open, face dripping, she stared at him. Then made a clean dive in, clothes and all.

Chris laughed as he started back-paddling. He was a better swimmer than Arizona, so he could have gotten away. But it wasn’t that long ago that she’d been scared to death of the water—a residual effect from when flesh-peddling bastards had tried to drown her.

Remembering that, thinking of how much she’d changed, he waited for her, and when she broke the surface of the water, he grabbed her around the waist and tossed her up.

She went into the air with a screech and landed with a gigantic splash, her long, dark hair flying everywhere.

Suddenly Tai and Sargie, Dare’s dogs, leapt in, too. The next thing Chris knew, everyone was down the hill and joining him for a swim.

While fending off Arizona’s attempts to dunk him, he saw Matt try to leave. Priss stood in his way, alternately arguing with and hugging him, and finally pushing him in.

Somehow, because of his friends, the mood lightened. Priss laughed and Matt, wading over to sit on the retaining wall, stopped trying to storm off.

Chris was glad. Damn it, he liked having Matt around. Probably too much, given the restrictions involved. But he also liked the current setup, the freedom of his lifestyle with Dare, the importance of his computer work.

The love of his family.

And they were family, Chris thought, watching as Jackson cradled the baby in his arms so protectively. Alani spread a blanket in the shade of a giant oak and Jackson joined her there. Molly and Priss peeled off their cover-ups and sat on the edge of the dock, letting their feet dangle in the water.

Spencer dove in, and soon after he had Arizona in an embrace, kissing and laughing with her.

In his quiet way, Dare said to Chris, “I’m taking the boat out if you want to ski.”

“Sure thing, thanks.” Chris swam closer to Matt. It should have been awkward, given the conversation they’d just had, but it never was, not with Matt. “Most everyone will go for a boat ride. But Jackson and Alani might hang back.”

Lake water clumped Matt’s eyelashes and beaded on his smooth, muscular chest. “Okay.”

Chris watched as Matt wrung out his shirt. “You want to ride along?”

Surprised by the offer, Matt looked up, then over him, his attention snagging at the waistband of Chris’s low-hanging, sodden shorts. Voice going lower, he murmured, “Sure.”

Chris wasn’t immune to that heated study. “I guess we’re grilling dinner afterward—”

“I know.” His gaze met Chris’s again. “Priss already invited me.”

Priss again. Their friendship could prove a problem.

But not now. Not tonight.

“She did, huh?”

Matt’s eyes narrowed. “She likes me.”

“Yeah, I know.” Chris liked him, too. More than liked him, but he wouldn’t say so. Giving up on thoughts of the future, at least for now, he looked around at his friends—who all made a point of not looking back. “So. You want to spend the night with her, too?”

Busy draining the water out of his shoes, Matt jerked his head up. “What?”

Chris took a step closer and lowered his voice. “Or would you rather stay the night with me?” It wouldn’t be the first time, but now it felt different, maybe because Matt had pressed things.

Tension built. “Are you saying…?”

“That you can stay over.” And even though Chris had just acknowledged the difference to himself, he said, “Don’t make any more of it than that.”

The seconds ticked by.

Trace announced, “We’re ready to go.”

“Me, too.” Chris started to wade away.

Grinning, shirt and shoes in hand, Matt slogged through the water behind him. “I’ll stay.”

“Good.” And though Chris didn’t want to admit it, relief lifted the tension from his chest.

Now what?

CHAPTER TWO

Dressed in his usual aged and faded T-shirt with comfortably loose shorts, his feet bare and his hair finger-combed, Chris stared at the bed.

Or more precisely, the man in his bed.

On his stomach, dead to the world, the rumpled sheet covering only a small part of his lower body, Matt slept on undisturbed. He was so damned different from Chris. Precise in his style and attitude. A hairdresser, for crying out loud—though Matt insisted on being called a Master Stylist.

He was good, no two ways about it. He owned his own upscale salon and catered to the elite—people who were, again, nothing like Chris.

Maybe that was what drew him to Matt. More appealing than the good looks and fit bod was his outlook on life. Matt was different, exciting, fun and easy to be with.

But the big problem remained: Matt had no idea what Chris really did for Dare. He didn’t—couldn’t—know the high-level, influential and powerful reach of Dare’s assignments.