Page 40 of Sapphire Storm

Courtly.

Most of the daddies he’d been out with in LA would have usedthat morning’s backrub as an excuse to mount him on the living room floor. ButEthan had gotten flushed and flustered, before pulling himself together like aBritish butler from some PBS show with all his talk ofconfusionandappropriateness.

To say nothing of his behavior at the hotel.

At the very moment Roman had gone for his throat, EthanBlake had opened his heart, and every hour since had felt like a wild ride intoimpossibilities made real.

He left the house in an outfit he considered a cross betweensexy and elegant, with none of the porny callbacks to his slutty footballplayer look he’d employed the night before. Dark, tailored slacks with a Guccibelt. A shiny silver cashmere sweater which he planned to remove at the perfectmoment, revealing the black dress shirt he wore underneath was actuallysleeveless. Maybe he’d duck away and do some quick push-ups before the bigreveal. Hopefully they’d have dinner someplace with a spacious, clean, andprivate men’s room.

You are not doing push-ups on a goddamn bathroom floorto impress this man, you thirsty, crazy bitch.But even as he admonishedhimself, he was pretty sure he’d give it a try. If the floor was clean.

To avoid the perpetual parking nightmare that was LagunaBeach, Roman took an Uber to their meeting place. The sunset crowds had longdeparted, and the sky over the Pacific was fading from dark blue to black. Tothe east, the coastal mountains loomed, and the tiny town below was all streetlightsand headlights and the occasional twinkle of string lights wrapped around atree trunk or threaded through its branches.

Sitting by himself on a bench steps from the sand, Ethanscrolled through his phone. His classy outfit made Roman smile and silenced thelittle bird on his shoulder that kept chirping about how Roman might be readingtoo much into this meeting.

When he saw Roman approaching, Ethan stood. His navy bluecashmere sweater had a zippered collar. A second collar sprouted from underneath,belonging to a pressed white polo shirt. His designer jeans looked pricey, andhis artfully scuffed Docksiders matched his brown belt perfectly. The belt wasbraided, normally a cause for ridicule in Roman’s world, but on a man ofEthan’s maturity, it was the perfect touch. There was just enough product inhis thick, wavy hair for it to rustle gently in the ocean breeze without losingits tousled shape.

Out of his chef’s coat and casual wear, Ethan Blake lookedas timeless and elegant as his speech patterns sounded. And he’d come bearinggifts. In one hand was a dusty gold gift bag stuffed with light blue tissuepaper.

The unsuspecting tourists who’d been caught out in shortsand T-shirts were complaining loudly about the sudden cold as they surged pastRoman on the boardwalk. It was one of those Southern California nights when thetemperature had plummeted at sundown.

When Roman threw his arms around him, Ethan completed thehug with three light taps on Roman’s upper back that seemed to sound outNot.A. Date.

When Roman went to kiss him on the cheek, Ethan ducked hishead at the last second and placed the gift bag in Roman’s hand.

“I hope this is fun. It was just something that occurred tome.” The man sounded as poised and professional as he had when he’d stepped intothe penthouse suite the night before. Suddenly, Roman felt an anxiousness thatbordered on panic, even as Ethan smiled and gestured for him to take a seat onthe bench. “Open it!”

Sinking to the bench, he complied. Buried within the nest oftissue paper was an elegant cardboard gift box bearing the logo of a localgallery he didn’t recognize. As Roman balled the paper up, Ethan gently took itfrom his hands, then he took the empty bag. Setting the box on his lap, Romancarefully pulled off its top half, revealing a creature inside with a wingspanroughly equivalent to his own hands if he’d spread his fingers and interlacedhis thumbs.

“Gertrude,” Roman whispered.

“I wasn’t sure you’d get it. So there’s a card in case you’dalready forgotten.”

Ethan had extracted it from the tissue paper after Roman hadalmost tossed it by mistake. He tore it open and read.

This is Gertrude, your protector on the trails. Long mayshe caw. Best, Ethan.

Best?Roman wanted to whine.Not even an XO?!

But he now had his very own hawk with a gaping beak,impeccably detailed and painted. “This is very nice.”

“Granted, I’m not exactly surehowshe’s going toprotect you on the trails. Perhaps we could fashion her to some sort of visoror hat.”

Roman hefted her by the base in both hands. “She’s kindaheavy for that.”

“Yes, well, you’re strong. And always looking to getstronger, it seems.”

Not hot,Roman thought,strong. Goddammit.

“Like I said, it was just something I thought of lastminute.” Ethan was studying him, a slight furrow to his brow, absolutelynothing that looked like lust in his eyes, and Roman was starting to feel likea little shit for not being more grateful. “Not to give too much of a peekbehind the curtain, but I thought it would be much harder to find. Mainlybecause I forgot how wildlife-driven Laguna’s art scene was. If you’re ever inthe market for a seven-foot-tall plaster of paris giraffe, they’ve got severalhere in town.”

“You didn’t have to do this,” Roman said, but it had comeout wrong. Like he didn’twantEthan to do it.

Because he wanted him to do something else more.

If Ethan heard this note, he ignored it. “So the updates.First off, you’re all set at the hotel. I checked and several of the villasaren’t booked on Tuesday, so they won’t need to be turned over for a guest, andthey’ll be free most of the day. What time do you want to meet there withRachel?”

“One p.m. sounds good. It’ll give her time to drive down.”

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