FullDisclosure

Jake Maynard slid into a booth and settled himself in for what promised to be a long, uncertain wait. The diner smelled of old grease and older cigarette smoke. Considering how many years it had been since Toronto had outlawed smoking in restaurants, that spoke volumes about the cleaning techniques employed by the owners of this greasy spoon. The tables were dented and chipped, the floor stained with things Jake had no wish to imagine, and what little clientele he had glimpsed since coming in seemed just as used and abused as the furniture.

He shook his head and turned his gaze out the window to watch the meager selection of pedestrians who had chosen to brave a trip down Jane Street in search of cheap Chinese food and expensive drugs.

This was
not
one of Jake’s usual haunts. While Jake enjoyed a good burger as much as the next guy, he generally preferred smoked salmon and chardonnay over meatloaf and coffee the color of well-used dishwater. He wasn’t comfortable here, and resented every moment he was required to spend here, but he hated the thought of not seeing Evan Valerian even more. And today, Evan hadn’t given him much choice.

So here he sat. Waiting for a man who was as likely to show up an hour late as he was to arrive on the dot of his appointment. Waiting for a man whom he loved to distraction but who seemed utterly confused over his own feelings toward Jake. Evan seemed to have no idea what he wanted or how he wanted it. And that had been driving Jake insane for months.

They needed to talk. They so needed to talk. But lately it seemed that talking was the last thing they had time for. They had been seeing less and less of each other over the past few months. Evan seemed to be getting busier, and less likely to interrupt his plans in order to see Jake. So when they did see each other the need between them had become so urgent and so intense that neither of them seemed inclined to waste their time talking.

The moment Jake showed up at Evan’s condo, or more likely his isolated fishing cabin, the wine popped open and the clothes came off. And their mouths remained firmly shut—unless of course they opened to welcome the other’s tongue or cock.

It had been a month since the last time he’d seen Evan, and even now, his jeans grew uncomfortably tight as he recalled that encounter.

Jake lay awake in the enormous king-size bed, gazing out through the open window at the full moon that taunted him with its promise of romance. Water lapped softly at the shore, and he could make out the gentle squeak of Evan’s old fishing boat as it rubbed against the ancient dock just a few meters away. A soft spring breeze rustled the gauzy curtains and occasionally caused them to flutter over the bed and tickle Jake’s hand, which rested on the hip of his lover.

On an impulse, Jake propped himself up on an elbow to gaze down on Evan’s face, cast in silvery relief by the haunting glow of the moon. “Damn it,” he whispered to the breeze, “why do you have to be so damn gorgeous?”

Evan must have been only dozing, because those few whispered words were enough to cause his eyes to flutter open. He looked up at Jake and smiled. And in that moment Jake thought he saw something there—something that had been missing from Evan’s gaze for far too long.

He wanted so desperately to ask him then. To voice the questions and worries that had been hounding him for the past six months, ever since his last visit to Evan’s condo—ever since Evan had started pulling away. But he didn’t. Instead he bent down and kissed Evan. Gently, sensually, with as much reverence and love as he could muster. And Evan responded.

Evan opened himself to Jake, returning the kiss with as much passion as Jake had ever experienced. His hands coasted over Jake’s body with tenderness and a sense of possession that fed Jake’s passion. Their chests ground together, their skin burst into flames. And when Evan took Jake in his mouth, Jake could think of nothing but the intense pleasure that consumed him every time they were together. He pumped himself into Evan’s mouth until he was dry, and then took equal pleasure as Evan held him down and fucked him—

“Coffee?”

“Huh?” Jake was startled out of his reverie and his hand flew to the tabletop. He felt himself blush with the knowledge that he had inadvertently been pressing a hand to his crotch.

The smile the waitress bestowed on him, however, eased his mind immediately. The face behind the smile wasn’t exactly beautiful. Her skin was pale and mottled, and in need of a good facial and the application of a little color. Her cheeks were somewhat sunken, as if she’d lost a little too much weight a little too fast. The way the cheap cotton uniform hung on her was an added testament to that observation.

But the brown eyes, although rimmed with dark circles and bloodshot with fatigue, were warm and inviting. And the curve of her lips was sweet and bowlike. He liked her immediately.

“Yeah. This brown stuff.” She held up the carafe. “You know…the caffeinated lifeblood of the Canadian public. Did you want some?”

He allowed himself a smile. “Sure.” He pushed the white ceramic cup toward her as he read her name tag. “Thanks, Sadie. Sorry. I was kind of lost in dreamland before.”

She filled his cup. “Don’t apologize. My fault for taking so long to serve you. There was a spill in the back that I had to clean up.”

“That’s okay.” He reached for the cream. “I’m sure the coffee will make up for the wait.”

She laughed. “You really do live in a dreamland.”

He felt the smile slip away as that brought on thoughts of Evan. “Yeah. Maybe.”

She studied him for a moment, and her hand reached out as if to touch his before she snatched it back and stuffed it into the pocket of her apron. “I’ll get you a menu.”

“Two actually. I’m waiting for someone.”

She nodded. “I’ll be back in a twitch.”

He was still musing over that little turn of phrase when she set two menus on the table and also dropped a basket with a couple of steaming biscuits and a side of butter.

He was confused. This was hardly the caliber of restaurant that provided free rolls or bread and dipping oil for its patrons. “I didn’t order these.”

“On the house. You looked like you could use some good, warm comfort food.” This time she did brush her hand across his before heading on to the next table.

He was chewing on a mouthful of surprisingly flaky dough and musing over her incredible insight when a short, burly police officer erupted from a booth on the other side of the restaurant and strode purposefully toward the waitress.

He grabbed her wrist and forced her around to face him. “Just what the fuck do you think you’re doing?” A thick, dark mustache clung to his upper lip like a dead caterpillar. It made Jake’s lip curl in vague distaste.

Only the uniform kept Jake from vaulting from his seat and plowing a fist into the guy’s leering, smug face. And a moment later he was glad of his restraint because Sadie had taken control of the situation and pulled the cop into a back corner for a conversation that, unfortunately, Jake could no longer hear.

Sadie was tired. Her feet were tired. Her eyes were tired. Hell, even her cheeks were tired. Every bone in her body screamed out for sleep, but that wasn’t destined to happen anytime soon. Instead she had to deal with Randy Rufus. A mistake that refused to go away. One of so many.

Just another stupid error in judgment in a long line of stupid mistakes that had started the day she met—and thought she fell in love with—her now dead husband.

She scolded herself. Regrets were a useless waste of energy, especially for a person who had so little energy left to use. She needed to focus on the problem at hand. Rufus.