Page 5 of Sapphire Sunset

The weather was beyond Southern California excellent. Warm,but also breezy enough to rustle the giant palm trees lining the resort’socean-facing façade, making a sound like gentle rain.

By day, the hotel was four stories of pastel-pink confectionthat looked like a freshly baked cake seconds away from melting in the brightsun. At night, pinpoint lighting accentuated the many curves in itsocean-facing walls, turning it into a modern art sculpture nestled in a jungleof palms. At the base of the cliffs, the dark Pacific rolled toward SapphireCove’s private beach beneath a vault of stars.

Buddy stepped onto the ballroom’s empty terrace so he couldtake up a post next to the open doors. Logan did the same, scanning the crowd inside.

He was impressed by the party’s setup. Maybe even a littledazzled. Lighting rigs had been brought in to give the ballroom a dim, blue huewith bright white accents, and the walls were covered with digital projectionsthat shifted around each other like schools of lazy tropical fish slowly circlingthe room. But they weren’t fish, they were detailed collages. Pictures of thegraduates, it looked like, interspersed with the university’s logo. The ballroommust have had five hundred guests in it, most of them on the dance floor. Noway could they all have been included in these images, but the closer he looked,the more it seemed like that was exactly the case.

“Who put this shindig together?” Logan asked.

“The prince did. Family footed the bill, of course, but he’sa little party planner.” Buddy saidparty plannerlike it was the onlygay slur he was allowed. “About to start in the events office here now thathe’s graduated.”

Logan looked in the direction Buddy had just jerked hishead, and his heart stopped.

Aw, God, no, please don’t let that slice of heaven bethe owner’s grandson.

Talk about a dangerous temptation.

Bright blond hair in a perfect side part, big blue eyes, andan infectious, boyish smile offset by cherubic cheeks. Dance moves that said heknew how to turn himself into a fluid, pliable love machine in the bedroom. Inthe words of his best friend, Donnie, Logan liked guys he could fit into hisback pocket but would kick their way out in five minutes because they were sofull of energy and sass.

A high and tight little butt didn’t hurt either, and ConnorHarcourt was certainly sporting one of those. And in gray and white plaid pantstailored to show it off, no doubt.

He danced without fear. Smiled big and easy whenever hebroke to take a selfie with his friends.

And he had dimples. The guy actually had dimples.

And he was a college graduate, which meant there was onlyabout four years between them, even if right now Logan looked like twice thegrown-up in his blazer and khaki pants and sporting an earpiece.

Stop doing the math.He’s not for sale.

Suddenly Connor wasn’t dancing anymore.

He was sprinting across the crowded ballroom. Protectiveinstincts surging, Logan took a step forward until he saw Connor’sdestination—the spot where a server had hastily left a tray of champagne flutesright inside the swing radius of the catering kitchen’s doors. The server had agood excuse. She’d been knocked backward by a colleague who’d come burstingthrough those very doors seconds earlier. Server one was now trying to hide thefact that her nose might have been broken as server two tried to help herwithout dropping his tray. Both looked up from their huddle in time to seeConnor reach out and stop the door before it crashed into the flute-filledtray.

Frightened, they looked to their rescuer with dazed expressions,clearly terrified their jobs might be on the line.

Logan was too busy wondering how Connor had sensed the nearcollision from halfway across the room. Did the guy’s Spidey senses work onthings besides trays full of champagne?

Whatever Connor said to the servers had them laughing andrelaxing their shoulders, even the lady with the possibly broken nose. Connormoved in closer, studying her face, then giving her a light pat on the backwhen he didn’t see any blood. With Connor’s blessing, the injured serverhurried off into the kitchen to tend to herself. Hors d’oeuvres guy startedcirculating. Meanwhile, to Logan’s total amazement, Connor picked up thechampagne flutes and started carrying them through the ballroom. Some of the guestswhooped and hollered, probably because they assumed the only reason the guestof honor would be carrying booze through his own graduation party was if heplanned to chug it all himself. But Connor was intent to serve, and he didn’tstop until the tray was empty.

Rich as all get-out and covering for one of his ownstaff.That’s unexpected.

And it was pretty clear, given the collages and the wayConnor served his guests, he didn’t think of himself as the guest of honor. Notthe only one, anyway.

Suddenly, Connor was distracted by a guest who danced rightpast him with a blinking glow-necklace around his throat. He pulled the guyclose, pointed to his neck, and asked him some question over the music. That’swhen the guest pointed out the little dude who’d started handing out the newparty favors. The gift giver was about Connor’s size, with ink black hair andbrown skin. Connor headed straight for him, his attention stolen right at themoment when Logan thought their eyes were about to meet.

When Connor caught up with his best friend, NaserKazemiwas weaving through the crowded dance floor, handingout fistfuls of blinking plastic necklaces that made Connor’s skin crawl. Givenhow gratefully his gifts were being received, the Dolphin Ballroom would soonlook more like a rave than a resort.

And that was not okay.

“Nas, a word please.” Connorguided him to the edge of the dance floor with a hand against the small of hisback. They were about the same compact size.Pocket gaysis how they’drefer to themselves in polite conversation,fun sizeif they weresetting up an Internet dating profile. Despite the fact that they were evenlymatched at five foot, four inches, Connor had once been able to wrestle Naseroff the sofa in their apartment during a fight about the outcome ofRuPaul’sDrag Race. Hopefully, such a use of force wouldn’t be required in thismoment. But he wasn’t willing to rule it out.

Naser had to be stopped. Immediately.

Whenever he was required to do something other than stayhome and calculate things for fun, Connor’s best friend and roommate wore asimilar outfit. A slim-fit Express dress shirt that was a neutral color—tonightit was beige—and black jeans completed by black dress shoes that could not beless suited for a night of drinking and dancing. It probably wasn’t that big adeal. Naser danced like he was constantly afraid his mother was going to burstout of the crowd and drag him off the floor, demanding to know why he wasmaking a fool of himself. It was a not very acrobatic routine that consisted ofstepping side to side vaguely in time to the music, shooting humorless glancesin either direction as he did so. Occasionally, Connor would grab his arms andraise them into the air, but Naser always retracted them quickly, as if hisbest friend had tried to tickle his pits.

“Why am I in trouble?” Naser whined. “I thought I wascontributing. You said you wanted me to contribute.”

That actually wasn’t true, but he wasn’t going to fault Naserfor trying to loosen up a bit. He was also sloshed. In keeping with someone whowas allergic to any gathering of over five people, Naser had spent the lasthour thoroughly buzzed off one swallow of champagne.

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