Page 37 of Dragged Home for Christmas

Mike went over to take a look. It was a photo of Nick in military uniform. “I didn’t see this in any of the drawers.”

“Neither did I, but it was there this morning. Wemust’ve both missed it.” She smiled. “He was a good-looking man.” Then she headed up the stairs.

Sam gazed at the photo, his eyes warm. “That he was.” He straightened. “So, we gonna get rid of all these flyers in one afternoon?”

“Won’t some of the others want to lend a hand?” Not that Mike disliked the idea of the two of them going around the town together. Working with Sam to assess the hotel’s present state had been a pleasant experience. Sam was practical, down-to-earth, with a warm smile and a great sense of humor.

You forgot one thing. He’s hot too.

As if he could forget that. The first night Mike spent alone in his bedroom, he’d half-hoped Sam would turn up with more hot chocolate. And when he didn’t, Mike wasn’t sure if he was relieved or disappointed.

You could always make the first move, y’know.

Mike didn’t have enough confidence to step that far out of his comfort zone, even though that small voice at the back of his mind was forever telling him that as many times as he’d found himself staring at Sam before averting his gaze, Sam was doing his fair share of staring too.

Sam counted off on his fingers. “Elliott’s modeling for the life drawing class, and—”

He blinked. “He’s what? Whose idea was this?”

Sam smirked. “He hasn’t said, but I’d bet money on it being his.” He let out an evil chuckle. “Stephan’s going to be there, isn’t he? And Elliott did say he’d modeled before, so I guess he feels comfortable having people stare at him when he’s naked.” He flushed. “Kudos to him. I don’t thinkIcould do it.”

“Why not? You’ve got the body for it.” Mike blinked, then coughed. “I mean, you’re—”

Sam held up his hand. “Stop right there. Don’t spoil the compliment.” He smiled. “You’re good for my ego.” He looked Mike up and down. “And if we’re talking bodies, you’d be a great choice for a model.” That flush was back. “How about we close this meeting of the mutual appreciation society?”

Mike chuckled. “Fine by me. So… Elliott is being painted in all his glory by the residents of P-town… What about Anthony and Jim?”

“Ant has gone to see Phil, the pianist, to discuss what he hopes to play. He’s also going to offer his services—”

Mike coughed. “What kind of services are we talking about?”

Sam laughed. “Get your mind out of the gutter. Turning the pages of his music. Ant’s the perfect choice. He’s the only one of us who can read music. Well, Elliott could, but he says he’s forgotten. I think it’s more a case that he wants to leave the field free for Ant, and he has other more important fish to fry. And Jim went to talk to Kris Warren.”

It took Mike a moment to remember who Kris was. Then it came to him. “He’s the one who’ll be running the BDSM workshops.”

Sam nodded. “Kris has written books on BDSM, he’s lectured on it, and he’s been known to give demonstrations too.” His eyes twinkled. “In fact, I recall Jim volunteering to be hogtied once. I think he fell asleep. He’s also the perfect guy to negotiate this for us. I got the feeling his ex was a lot like Kris.” He smirked. “Well, they were into similar things.” He glanced at the boxes. “I’ll put all the flyers and posters into my backpack, and then we’ll go hit the town.” Another grin. “We’re gonna drown P-town in paper.”

“And I get my first real look at the place.”

Mike couldn’t wait to see the town he wanted to callhome.

Elliott squirmed into his jeans behind the screen Anthony had found in the shed. It had been part of the scenery for a show at one time. He pulled his tee over his head, listening to the appreciative comments from the handful of people who’d shown up to take part in the first art class.

I guess six is a good start. And everyone had a good view.

What had amazed Elliott was the fact he’d stayed limp for most of it. That wasn’t new—he’d been a life model before, and nothing had risen to the occasion—but having Stephan around complicated matters.

Stephan had been amazing. He’d given a lot of advice, uttered encouraging remarks, and applauded his new students’ efforts.

He’d also been great when it came to making sure his model was comfortable.

Elliott had lain on a chaise lounge borrowed from a room at the hotel, a couple of space heaters on either side of him. He’d posed with one leg bent, the other hanging over the edge, his foot on the floor. Stephan had announced breaks every thirty minutes, where Elliott had shaken his arms and legs before slipping back into his pose.

He’d been dying to take a peek at how they’d portrayed him, but not as much as he’d yearned to watch Stephan.

Except he couldn’t. Models were supposed to keepstill. Dammit.

If you only knew what you do to me.

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