Mitch wrinkled his nose as the shaft of light fell through the chink in the curtains and across his closed lids. The bed was too warm and he was cocooned too snugly in his blankets to get up and face the day. The crinkle above his nose deepened to a frown when he heard a bang, followed by a curse from downstairs. He sat bolt upright in bed, the events of the early hours flooding back along with the realization the commotion was his unexpected houseguest. Mitch closed his eyes and covered them with his hands. Yesterday life had been so simple. Get up, eat, work, stare out the window, eat, stare out the window some more, and sleep. A routine which had become so ingrained since he'd arrived that it was almost second nature. Entertaining a complete stranger until the rains stopped and the road became passable hadn't exactly been at the top of his bucket list, when he'd made his escape from the city.
Throwing back the covers, he swung his legs over the edge of the bed and sat up, his toes curling into the thick pile of the rug beneath his feet. What the hell was he supposed to do? To say? Why did the guy have to knock on his door? He just wanted to be left in peace. Glancing over at the clock on the bedside table, he sighed heavily at the time—twelve forty-five in the afternoon. Not that he was surprised. By the time he finished putting clean sheets on the bed in the guestroom down the hall, dawn had been breaking over the valley. Kade had smiled his thanks when Mitch handed him some sweatpants and a large T-shirt, and they'd bid each other goodnight.
Last night, as he snuggled beneath the covers of his own bed, Mitch remembered thinking that he should be scared… shouldn't he? A complete stranger was sleeping fifty feet from him; surely he should at least be slightly concerned? He had meant to analyze why he was oddly neither scared nor concerned… but sleep had wrapped him in its arms before he could form another thought. Mitch yawned widely and stood, raising his arms above his head and stretching languorously. Not that he had any intention of analyzing anything about Kade Willis in broad daylight. He just needed to get through the next couple of days and everything could go back to normal.
Another crash followed by an even louder expletive drifted up the stairs. "What the hell is he doing down there?" Mitch muttered to himself. He strode across the room and swung the door closed behind him before taking the stairs, two at a time.
"Kade?"
"Yeah," a sarcastic drawl filtered from the kitchen. "Unless you have someone else lying on the floor under a pile of crap?"
"Shit! Did you open the tall cupboard?" Mitch cursed aloud, running the last few steps down the hall and into the kitchen. He slid to a halt in his bare feet on the cold flagstones and stared down at the man on the floor. "I guess that would be a yes." His lips twitched at the resigned expression on Kade's face as he peered out from beneath a sea of mops, brooms, and miscellaneous household items Mitch's mother stored in what she liked to call the—air-quotes—temperamental cupboard. His father, however, liked to call it "that fucking death-trap."
"Think you could contain yourself long enough to help me up?" Kade queried, frowning his obvious annoyance at Mitch's amusement.
"Sorry," Mitch apologized, holding out his hand and pulling Kade to his feet. He swallowed hard at the unexpected sight of Kade's bare chest as he rose. I gave him a shirt, why isn’t he wearing the shirt? Mitch firmly squashed his inner voice when it screamed in his ear, Who cares? Would you look at those pecs!
"What were you looking for?" he asked gruffly, keeping his gaze firmly locked on Kade's and away from the expanse of firm, tanned flesh.
"I couldn't find the frying pan."
"Frying pan?" Mitch echoed lamely.
"Yeah, you know, the pan you fry in," Kade spoke slowly as if Mitch had just drooled all over himself, and Mitch couldn't really blame him. "I wanted to do something to thank you for letting me stay. Eggs are my specialty so I was hunting down the frying pan when I opened the cupboard and my life flashed before my eyes. I didn't realize when I knocked on the door last night that I was going to be safer out in the storm." Kade put a hand to his forehead. "I think I've got concussion."
Mitch huffed out a laugh and opened the cupboard housing the first aid kit. "You do not have a concussion." He nodded at the dining table. "But you are bleeding. Sit down."
"I'm bleeding? Seriously?"
Mitch opened the first aid kit and took out some gauze and antiseptic. He turned around just in time to see Kade's face drain of every iota of color as the man stared at the blood on his fingers.
"Whoa!" Mitch dropped the items onto the counter and lunged across the distance between them, catching Kade in his arms as he fainted. "Kade? Kade?" He gazed down into Kade's pale face and sighed heavily, wondering how he was going to get Kade, who was a damn sight heavier than he looked, into one of the chairs. Not to mention how he was going to manage to keep his own knees from buckling as the musky scent of cologne, sleep-warm skin, and man filled his nostrils.
Mitch cursed his weakened arm as he fell to the floor with Kade on top of him. The pain screamed through his wasted muscles as his arms bore the brunt of Kade's weight. He managed to lower Kade's head to the floor and inelegantly scramble out from beneath the man. He stood and rolled his shoulder, trying to ease the deep-seated ache. Not that the half-hearted movement helped. He hadn't exactly kept up with his physical therapy sessions when he'd moved to the valley. But that wasn't his major concern right now; that would be the man on the floor. He didn't have to contemplate his next move for long; Kade's eyes fluttered open and Mitch watched him struggle to focus. "Hey… are you okay?"
Kade frowned in confusion. "What happened?"
"You fainted." Mitch smiled as a warm flush reddened the man's cheeks.
"I don't really do blood," Kade said sheepishly, avoiding Mitch's gaze.
Mitch held out his good hand, helped Kade to his feet and then to a chair, the man swaying slightly as he walked across the floor. "Then I guess we'd better get you cleaned up before you pass out again," Mitch replied. He settled Kade into the chair, then crossed to the cupboard to retrieve the cotton balls and antiseptic. Putting the items on the table, Mitch unscrewed the cap off the bottle and poured a little onto the cotton. He scooted his chair across the floor so he was directly in front of Kade and gently dabbed at the cut the man had sustained when he'd opened the cupboard. "I think it must have been the leg of the ironing board," Mitch murmured, trying not to smile at Kade's involuntary hiss and wince of pain at the sting of the antiseptic. "Seriously? It's barely a scratch."
"Well, it feels like a crater," Kade complained, his voice gruff and defensive. "Maybe you should go and open that damn cupboard and see how you like it."
"Uh-huh, no thanks." Mitch padded across the kitchen and took a Band-aid out of the packet in the first aid kit. "I've done my time in that very chair. I learned the hard way not to open that death trap." He pressed the bandage to the cut, which really wasn't very big at all, and smoothed down the edges to stick it to Kade's forehead. "There you go. You'll live to fight another day."
"Thanks." Kade cleared his throat, much to Mitch's amusement, who briefly wondered if Kade was suddenly going to start talking about Monday night football to preserve his masculinity. "So exactly where is the frying pan?"
"In the oven," Mitch replied with a grin.
"The oven?"
Mitch shrugged, walked back to the counter to dispose of the remnants of his attempts at being Florence Nightingale, and stowed the first aid kit back in the cupboard. "I told you, my mom's a little crazy. I gave up asking a long time ago. My dad says the best thing is to smile, nod and say, 'Yes dear'."
Kade chuckled and bent down to pull the frying pan out of the oven. "Sounds like my dad. He shares the same view."
"What about you?" Mitch glanced at Kade as he took some eggs out of the fridge and proceeded to break them into a bowl.
"What about me?"
"Do you nod, smile and say, 'Yes, dear'?" What the hell are you doing? If you want to know if he’s married, just ask him, you moron! Mitch busied himself getting plates out of the cupboard above his head.
"No, I'm more likely to say, 'Yes, dude'." Kade added some milk and put the bottle back in the fridge. "I'm into boobs about as much as I'm into blood. Where's the salt and pepper?"
"Oh," Mitch said quietly, a wealth of meaning in the single sound, and opened another cupboard for the salt and pepper.
"I'm assuming that won't be a problem?" Kade took the condiments from Mitch and liberally shook some of each into the egg and milk mixture, then shot Mitch an all too innocent smile. "Unless the rain shorted my radar, of course?"
"Pretty sure of yourself, aren't you," Mitch said, bristling at the man's irritating smugness. "Why would you think I'm gay?"
Kade's green gaze traveled slowly over Mitch's body, insolently, suggestion and intent burning where it touched. "Please, the way you were checking out my ass last night? If you weren't gay before I knocked on the door, you are now."
"Funny," Mitch mumbled as he grabbed the coffee pot and strode across the kitchen to the sink. The last thing his ego needed was for Kade to stare at the embarrassed flush warming his face. So he knows you’re gay… so what? Or is it the fact that he's gay that bothers you? Does that mean you have nothing to hide behind? No excuses to protect you from the heat in the pit of your stomach every time he looks at you? Mitch ignored his inner voice and filled the pot before shutting off the faucet and returning the pot to the percolator.
"So, do you want breakfast now or should we just skip straight to the sex?"
Mitch spun around and stared open-mouthed at Kade. "What?"
"Come on, Mitch." Kade grinned widely and tipped the mixture into the frying pan he had been heating on the gas. "You gotta lighten up, man. I'm just teasing. Your ass is safe… for now."
Mitch sighed heavily and gave a nonchalant shrug. "Sorry, I guess I'm not used to company." He leaned against the counter and watched Kade pour the beaten eggs into the hot pan. The skillet hissed and the mixture bubbled when they met, and Kade began a slow methodic stirring with the fork he had retrieved from the cutlery drawer. Mitch contained his cringe at the sight of a metal fork being used on his mother's non-stick pan, hoping she couldn't hear the scratching of the tines all the way from France. He made a mental note to change the sheets in the master bedroom, just in case she caught the next plane home to investigate.
"Don't just stand there," Kade instructed, taking his eyes off the eggs for a brief moment to glance at Mitch. "Make yourself useful."
"Useful? I thought this was my treat?" Mitch harrumphed in mock horror. Kade wasn't the only one with a sense of humor. "Are you telling me I have to work for it?"
"Damn straight. Just because it's your kitchen, don't mean you get to stand around and look pretty." Kade nodded toward the fridge. "Grate some cheese, the stronger the better. Gives the eggs a little bite."
After grating the cheese as instructed, Kade told Mitch to make the toast while he used the kitchen scissors to snip several rashers of bacon into small chunks, which he let fall onto the eggs cooking in the pan. Mitch couldn't help but smile at the expression of sheer determination on Kade's face as he cooked. But then he got the feeling that whatever Kade did was carried out with the same intensity.
Ten minutes later, they were sat opposite each other at the kitchen table, steaming plates of eggs in front of them and warm toast piled on side plates. Mitch breathed deeply, letting the mixed aroma of the food and piping hot coffee assault his nostrils. He ignored Kade's chuckle at the resounding growl from his stomach and picked up his knife and fork. As he ate, he wondered why sitting across the table from Kade was so easy. Why it was as though they had been eating breakfast together for years. Why the silence between them wasn't awkward or uncomfortable, as they practically inhaled the food before them. Jesus, he'd sat through breakfasts with his own family more painful than this one.
"So, what are we going to do today?" Kade said around a mouthful of toast. Mitch followed his gaze to the kitchen window. "It doesn't look like the rain is going to let up anytime soon, which puts a quick stroll through the valley at the bottom of my to-do list."
"There are books in the study and hundreds of DVDs if you want to amuse yourself," Mitch replied, washing down eggs with a gulp of coffee. "I've got some work to do in the workshop."
"Workshop?" Kade said with a puzzled frown. "I thought you were a writer." Mitch's gaze narrowed and Kade blushed. "Sorry, I opened your door by mistake when I was looking for the bathroom last night. I just assumed from all the papers and the laptop and everything you were a writer."
"Well, I am… trying to be, anyway," Mitch responded. Kade's expression was so innocently embarrassed that Mitch's suspicion that the man had been snooping last night dissipated. "It's very much a work in progress."
"So what do you need a workshop for?"
"After breakfast, I'll show you… if you like." What? You’re going to show him the workshop? Even your mother hasn’t been inside the workshop? Are you feeling all right? He wasn't entirely sure he was. Mitch had barely known this man for twelve hours and he was already willing to let him see the only thing on this earth that still ignited his passion. The one thing the accident hadn't been able to take away. He didn't need the sudden tightening in the pit of his stomach to remind him of all that had vanished in those ten seconds of lost control.
"Hey, where'd you go?"
Mentally shaking his head, Mitch stood before Kade could probe further and gathered his empty plate. "You were right about the eggs. I'm going to shower. Give me an hour or so then grab the umbrella and join me in the workshop."
****
"Shut down again," Kade muttered beneath his breath, watching Mitch leave the kitchen. When Gustav had given him the intel he'd gathered on the family, Mitch had been mentioned briefly as a broker in the city. There had been no mention of the fragile man Kade had encountered. What had happened to him? Why had he given up a promising career and shut himself away in the middle of nowhere? Of course he'd noticed the scars and the weakness of Mitch's arm, but even with his face marred by the puckered skin, Mitch was a handsome man. Why had he closed himself off? It was as though he carried the weight of the world on his shoulders and the shadows in his eyes had peaked Kade's interest. Kade, don’t forget why you’re here. When the rain stops, pocket the diamonds and get out. Steadfastly ignoring his inner voice, Kade gathered the rest of the breakfast debris and carried them to the sink. He had no idea what was going on behind that somber gaze—but he was going to enjoy finding out.
Kade was up to his elbows in soapy water fifteen minutes later when he heard a door slam from the back of the house. He smiled to himself and continued rinsing Mitch's mother's beloved frying pan. Mitch must have broken the world record for showering and shaving, he'd have barely had time to do more than step under the spray and out again. He closed his eyes at the thought of Mitch, naked, with rivulets of water running down his pale skin. Already hardening in his pants, his fingers curled over the edge of the sink and Kade moaned softly in his throat. No, not his pants—Mitch’s pants. The knowledge the soft cotton fabric had brushed against Mitch in exactly the same way it brushed against his semi-hard flesh, sent his blood rushing south at a rate of knots. What was it about this guy that had his mind yearning to know more, as well as his body reacting with the deafening chant of want, that, now? Disconcerting didn't quite cover the wave of emotion he had been surfing since Mitch had walked into the kitchen this morning… sleep-warm, his hair adorably mussed, and the scent of him filling Kade's nostrils.
A wave of heat flooded his groin and Kade swore softly. He put the frying pan on the drainer and snatched the towel, roughly dried his hands, then strode purposefully across the kitchen and up the stairs. Kade would have been more than happy to take the stairs two at a time, but his cock was now throbbing in his pants, begging for attention. He was so hard he was worried the slightest wrong move would have him coming there and then like a pubescent teenager.
Kade slammed the bathroom door behind him and ducked into the stall to turn the shower on then quickly shed his clothes. His cock began to leak as soon as it was freed from the sweatpants, as though it were relieved Kade had finally woken up and gotten with the program. The water was barely lukewarm when it hit his fevered skin. Not that he noticed—only one thing could put out the fire raging through him.
Leaning his head under the spray, his breath coming in short gasps, Kade squirted body wash into his palm and rubbed his hands together to create a lather. He placed his left hand on the tiles in front of him and slid his right slowly down his body to take his cock in a firm grasp.
Kade moaned in ecstasy as he stroked himself. His flesh felt hot against his palm and he closed his eyes, letting his mind take over and only concentrating on the delicious push and pull of his cock through his fist. Behind his eyes, an image of Mitch swam into focus. Mitch opening the shower door, a secret smile twitching his lips as he closed it behind him. Mitch slowly sinking to his knees before Kade. No words were spoken, merely a meeting of intense gazes filled with intent and acceptance. DreamMitch drew his tongue in a circle around the head of Kade's throbbing cock and then slid his open mouth over the crown and down Kade's shaft. Pumping his fist like a piston, Kade's head fell back on his neck as he imagined those sinful lips on his flesh.
Orgasm rushed up on him as he tightened his grip and, when his mind suddenly sent him a vision of Mitch taking Kade's hands and guiding his fingers into Mitch's hair—it was all over. He couldn't stop the pulsing of hot white streams against the tile until he was completely spent.
Kade milked his orgasm until his cock pleaded for mercy, the sensitive flesh twitching in his hand, still half-hard, even after one of the most intense hand-jobs of his entire life. "Jesus Christ," he panted, leaning his head under the spray as he attempted to get his breath back. Wow, if that’s what he does to you in your imagination, Kade's inner voice taunted, I’m not sure you’d survive the real thing… Refusing to respond, Kade rinsed his hands under the water and grabbed the body wash, squirting a fresh amount into his palm. Although he wasn't going to give his inner voice the satisfaction of a reply… he hated it when it was right.
Walking into the guest room with a towel wrapped around his waist, Kade wasn't surprised to see the clothes he had been wearing last night neatly folded on the end of the bed. Drying himself quickly, he pulled on his black jeans and the long-sleeve black T-shirt then sat on the edge of the bed to unroll the balled up socks at the bottom of the pile. He smiled to himself as he imagined the look on Mitch's face when he realized Kade didn't have any underwear—he could see the pale cheeks aflame with embarrassment as clearly as if Mitch was in front of him. After sliding on his socks, Kade stood and stepped into the well-worn black boots he sported when he was… working. Luckily they had dried out more than he was expecting and he bent to tie the laces firmly.
Kade walked across the room to the mirror and ran a hand through his dark hair, teasing the strands into some kind of order. Smoothing his T-shirt over his abs, he nodded confidently. He looked good. Not that he was a vain man, he wasn't. But he wasn't blind either. His looks had gotten him into and out of more than one scrape on occasion, and he used them shamelessly—his eye always on the prize. Whether it be the three hundred thousand dollars worth of diamonds in Mrs Spencer's underwear drawer, or her angst-ridden, hiding-from-the-world, extremely hot, son.
Kade stared at the rain lashing against the windows and grimaced. He wasn't exactly looking forward to going outside, no matter how short a distance. Squinting against the downpour, he could make out the shape of a building about four hundred yards away from the house. But he wouldn't lay money on that assumption as the weather was making it hard to judge with any certainty.
Opening the umbrella, Kade took a deep breath and slid the patio door across its housing, wide enough for him to squeeze through. The rain stung as if he was being stabbed with a thousand pins as he turned to slide the door shut. It bit through his jeans, ice cold against his skin. Kade held the umbrella over his head and ran toward the outbuilding, his legs pumping in an accelerated sprint. Thankfully, the barnlike construction was closer than he'd estimated and he pushed at the door, slamming it quickly behind him and leaning against it to catch his breath.
Dropping the umbrella to the floor, Kade's eyes widened in stunned amazement as he gazed around Mitch's workshop. He didn't really know what he'd been expecting, but it certainly wasn't this. The walls were lined with lengths of wood in differing thicknesses, the smell of it filling his nostrils. But what captured him was the man at the long work bench in the middle of the room.
Kade knew, without a doubt, that Mitch was so lost in what he was doing he hadn't even noticed his arrival. Mitch's fingers moved over the beautifully carved cradle atop the work bench, gently caressing, almost as though he were touching a lover's skin. Kade swallowed against the lump in his throat at the reverent look in Mitch's eyes as the man traced the grain. He didn't think he had ever seen anything more beautiful—and he wasn't sure if he meant the cradle or the man bent over it. Kade cleared his throat and walked across the sawdust-covered floor. "Am I interrupting?"
Mitch didn't stop smoothing his fingers along the wood, nor did he turn to look at Kade. He merely muttered, "No, come in." Kade couldn't help but smile at the crinkle above Mitch's nose as he picked up a small block covered in sandpaper and rubbed it gently against a snag his fingers had detected in the cradle.
"It's beautiful, Mitch," Kade said softly. The area was filled with intricately carved cradles, huge rocking chairs varnished to the point that the wood seemed to glow in the muted lighting. He wandered around, reaching out to touch each piece he passed, marveling at the craftsmanship and the smooth, almost silk-like feel of the wood beneath his fingers. Kade paused when he found himself in the back corner of the barn at the foot of a huge bed, complete with mattress and quilt. The bed itself had been fashioned into the shape of a sleigh, the head and footboards molded into scrolls. What he assumed were elves and fairies had been carved into the sides, and he traced the delicate wing of one creation, oddly disappointed when he didn't feel the softness of gossamer against his skin.
"Sometimes I work in here 'til I drop." Mitch's voice behind him sent a shiver down Kade's spine. "The bed seemed a good idea."
Continuing to stare at the intricacies of the bed, finding a new carving each time he passed his gaze over it, Kade swallowed hard before answering, his voice filled with awe. "I'm speechless. I can't imagine how long it must have taken you to create something this beautiful." He turned and caught the flicker of heat in Mitch's eyes before the man had time to bring the shutters down.
Kade reached out and gently took hold of Mitch's left hand, lifting it slowly. Mitch's skin was surprisingly soft for a man who worked continuously with his hands, and Kade's own hand trembled at the thought of those fingers caressing his naked body. He stroked Mitch's skin slowly, his gut tightening as he watched goose bumps appearing on Mitch's arm at his touch. The muscle wastage was noticeable, but not as excessive as it had first seemed in the dim lighting of the hall last night. In fact, Kade was certain that after a few bouts of rigorous physical therapy and continuous exercise, the arm would recover well. He had no doubt the doctors would have told Mitch this, so why hadn't he taken the necessary steps? Didn't he want to recover? Was the arm some kind of badge that he wore with wounded pride?
Tracing his fingers closer to the puckered skin of Mitch's scar, Kade's gaze flitted to Mitch's when the man gasped and tried to pull free from Kade's grasp. "Let me," he murmured softly, waiting for Mitch to still again before his fingers continued their exploration. "Is this why you're hiding?"
"I'm not hiding." Mitch's voice was a raspy whisper. "I like the quiet."
"I think we both know that's not true," Kade countered. He had obviously hit a nerve, because Mitch wrenched his fingers free and took a step back.
""You know nothing about me." Mitch's brown gaze flashed ice cold fire as he glared at Kade. "Take your hand—"
Before he could finish, Kade quickly transferred his grip to Mitch's upper arm and herded him toward a beautifully gothic mirror propped up against one of the high back chairs lining the back wall. "I know enough. Know you hide behind those scars," he ground out, his other hand gripping the nape of Mitch's neck, forcing him to look at his own reflection. "Know you refuse to see yourself."
Mitch's gaze flitted to Kade's in the glass. "I know what I look like. I don't need to see me. Let go. I mean it, Kade."
"Goddamn it, you're not listening! I don't want you to look," Kade said in frustration. "I want you to see!" His blood boiled in his veins. What was it about that bloody accident that had made Mitch doubt his own worth? He didn't need to be a psychiatrist to know that. The man thrummed with it, his body shaking as he tried to look everywhere but at himself.
"Kade, please," Mitch whimpered, a lone tear escaping from beneath his lashes.
Kade immediately loosened his grip enough to turn Mitch to face him, his voice rough with emotion. "My God, you really don't see it, do you?"
"See what?"
"You."