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  Trapping Drake

  Lee Brazil

  Breathless Press

  Calgary, Alberta

  www.breathlesspress.com

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or

  persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Trapping Drake

  Copyright© 2012 Lee Brazil

  ISBN: 978-1-77101-005-4

  Cover Artist: Victoria Miller

  Editor: Olivia Ventura

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced electronically or in print without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations

  embodied in reviews.

  Breathless Press

  www.breathlesspress.com

  Dedication

  This story is dedicated to my muse, Havan, for the constant inspiration and encouragement she provides.

  CHAPTER ONE

  “Fuck.” His headlights glinted on white hair at the side of the road as Drake struggled to see through the pouring rain. The young woman standing beside her car, hazard lights blinking furiously, clearly needed assistance. He didn’t feel like playing Good Samaritan, but the rain was coming down in torrents, and no one else was likely to stop in this neighborhood.

  Pulling his SUV over to the side of the road, Drake Fallon turned on his high beams and hazard lights. Sighing heavily, he stepped from the car and approached the woman rummaging through the trunk of her car. “Can I help you, Miss?”

  The girl jumped. “Oh shit!” Her husky voice was startled.

  The voice stroked over his nerves, soothing and stimulating at once. Surprised, he peered more closely, tempted to drag the driver into the glare of his headlights to verify his suspicions. “Are you all right? Do you need assistance?” When no clarification came, he reached for his wallet and flashed his identification, before pulling out a business card and handing it over as well. “I’m with the police department. I’m perfectly trustworthy, I promise you. What seems to be the problem?”

  “I need to change a flat, and it looks like my brother Jay has neglected to put the jack back in the car.” When the driver finally vouchsafed him an answer, it was in a softer, slightly higher voice that did nothing to allay his suspicions.

  “You do have a spare, though? I can change it for you. It’ll be faster that way. I’ve got a jack in my trunk. Why don’t you go sit in the front of my car and warm up while I take care of this for you?” And I can get a damn good look at you when you pass through the headlights on your way there. He strained his eyes impatiently, taking in the long, straight fall of ash-blond hair, the bulk of a short leather jacket disguising the driver’s torso, and the slender length of hip and leg encased in tight black denim. The denim led to shiny rain-slick leather boots with three-inch heels. Not the best wear for changing a tire. He couldn’t clearly distinguish any facial features in the strange shadows, but had an impression of high cheekbones, dark eyes, and full lips on pale flesh.

  The driver gave a mumble of assent and headed off to Drake’s vehicle, stepping dangerously close to the passing traffic as he opened the door. Drake caught his breath and stared as the dome light popped on and confirmed his suspicions. Slight and delicate of frame, a little oddly dressed, pretty beyond belief, but no doubt about it, male.

  Whistling, he walked around to the back of the SUV, trying to keep one eye on the man in his passenger seat, telling himself it was just a natural precaution, making sure he’s not a thief. He opened the back hatch of the SUV, then picked up his jack and a wrench. Setting the equipment down beside the sports car, he pulled the spare out of the trunk and strolled around to the passenger side window of his vehicle, tapping until the man inside lowered it. “Keys?” He held out his hand to catch the keys as the motorist dropped them into his palm. Drake eagerly absorbed the close view of deep blue eyes, the delicate arch of pale brows, and the smooth unlined face. He raised a hand to brush along the smooth length of the narrow jaw, catching himself just in time.

  “Here you go.” The driver again seemed to make an effort to make his voice sound more feminine than it had at first.

  Drake smiled encouragingly. “It’s okay. I’ll help you with your tire, even if you’re a man.” He accepted the keys and smiled more broadly as the young man sputtered. “It’ll just be a minute.” Conscious of the blue gaze on his back, he strolled back to the little sports car, unable to care that the rain had soaked through his clothes and his shirt now clung damply to his chest and back. Maybe his friend back there would enjoy the view. Opening the car door, he quickly applied the parking brake. A brick to prevent rolling would have been nice, but he wasn’t going to waste time looking for one. The less time he spent out in this rain, the better.

  He turned his attention to the spare tire, only to find its condition less than roadworthy. He fingered the treads where they seemed inordinately worn. Fumbling in his pocket for change, he pulled out a penny and slid it into the groove, peering close. Yeah. No way could he in good conscience send someone out to drive in this rain with tires like that.

  Decision made, he hefted the tire and slung it back in the trunk, then heard the car door slam and the driver approach. He closed the trunk and gathered up his supplies, turning to face the blond man.

  “Is there a problem?” This time he made no attempt to sound female, and Drake shivered as the husky tenor stroked across his nerve endings. Wow. That was a hell of a voice.

  “Yeah. I can’t put this tire on your car. It’s worn down well past being safe to use.” The man started to argue, but Drake raised a hand to silence him. “No. I can’t and I won’t. The main purpose of tread on your tires is to provide traction and prevent drivers from hydroplaning and having accidents in just such deluges as we are standing in right now. I wouldn’t put that tire on your car if it were dry as a bone out here. It’s just not safe. Now get back in my car while I put this stuff away, and we’ll assess your options.”

  Fascinated, he watched the man’s open mouth clamp shut, full lips pressing into a tight red line as he shoved his thin white hands into the pockets of his leather jacket. He watched the flexing muscles under that tight denim head back to the car. Drawing in a deep breath, Drake headed around to the back, striving to get himself under control before he returned to close proximity with the blond in his car.

  He made a show of storing the tools, then went back to check that the sports car was locked before climbing into the driver’s seat of his car. He turned up the heat a bit and twisted around to face the blond, who watched him cautiously. He forced a smile. “I’m Drake Fallon. And you are?”

  “I’m Jesse Cahill. What do I do now?” Jesse. Drake rolled the word around in his head. He liked it. It suited this little man nicely. Slightly feminine, but definitely male. He also like the way the blond seemed to look to him for help to solve his problems. It made him feel more masculine, less tired and hungry, and less like a failure after his long day at work. Appeals to your protective instincts, you mean.

  “Well, do you have AAA?” Jesse sank neat white teeth into his plump lower lip, shaking his head and Drake fought back a groan, dragging his gaze up from temptation to eye level again. “Anyone you can call?”

  Jesse broke eye contact and twisted his hands together in his lap. He stared out the front window at the rain for a moment before looking back at Drake and again shaking his head.

  “Are you sure?” Drake asked. “You mentioned a brother earlier. Can he come and pick you up? We can call roadside assistance and get your car to
wed if you like.”

  “He can’t. He works graveyard as an emergency room nurse, so he can’t leave the hospital.” Jesse hesitated. “Could you call me a cab?”

  Was elation at the prospect of getting to spend a bit more time with this stranger wrong? “How about this? We’ll call FSP, and I’ll wait here with you until they come. Then we can go get a cup of coffee and warm up, and I’ll drive you home.” When he realized he was holding his breath, he forced himself to breathe normally.

  A rush of unwarranted happiness spread through him when Jesse nodded acceptance. “I need to get my things from the car.”

  “Okay, you go ahead and do that while I get FSP on the line.” He kept one eye on Jesse, who loaded his arms up with the contents of his backseat, while speaking to the dispatch operator.

  When Jesse slid back into the car he held a laptop bag, a backpack, and a covered plate. Drake took the backpack and the laptop bag and placed them on the backseat. Jesse waved the covered plate under his nose. “Are you hungry?”

  Nodding, Drake watched Jesse slide the cover off the dish, and the delicious aroma of dark chocolate and raspberries filled the car. He moaned. His stomach rumbled and he coughed in embarrassment. “I’m sorry. I just got off a twelve-hour shift that should have been eight hours long, and I haven’t eaten since noon. Those brownies smell amazing. They are brownies, right?” His mouth watered in anticipation.

  Jesse smiled broadly and handed him the plate, taking one for himself first. “Yep. They are. I baked them for a school bake sale tomorrow, but your heroic measures in coming to my aid deserve a reward more than the student council kids.”

  Biting into the melt-in-your-mouth, chewy morsel, Drake moaned again. Gorgeous and a good cook? “You’re a teacher?”

  “Yes. I teach composition and literature at the Lynden Private High School. I also have the misfortune to be the faculty advisor to the Student Government. It’s a fundraising nightmare. What did FSP say?”

  “They’re on their way. In fact, there they are. Do you want me to talk to them for you?”

  “No, thanks, I can handle it. I appreciate all your help though.”

  Drake nibbled another brownie while Jesse talked to the tow truck driver. He turned back to the car as the driver hitched his car up and prepared to deliver it to the garage. Jesse slid into the seat next to Drake, folding the work order slip from the truck driver and sliding it into his pocket. “Look, I’m kind of tired. Can we forego the coffee, if you don’t mind?”

  Disappointed, Drake agreed. “Where do you live?” Hearing that Jesse lived relatively close to his own apartment complex pleased him. Proximity would make pursuing this acquaintance easier. The drive to Jesse’s neighborhood was relatively quick, and he and Jesse managed to chat casually the whole way.

  Pulling into the drive, he turned to face Jesse, who had one hand on the door handle and an uncertain look on his face. Cautiously, sensing that Jesse wasn’t immune to him, Drake gave in to his earlier temptation. He reached out and ran his hand down the side of that gorgeous face. When Jesse leaned into his touch, Drake’s pulse sped up and he curled his finger around the back of Jesse’s neck, threading his fingers into the still-damp blond locks. Tilting Jesse’s head up, he leaned down, staring deep into the blue eyes, looking for any sign that his kiss was unwelcome. Jesse’s eyes widened, and he expelled a sweet rush of air that hotly caressed Drake’s lips. Drake sighed and brought their mouths together. Pausing, he again gave the skittish Jesse a chance to pull away. When no objection came, he tilted his head and caressed the full lower lip with his own, adoring the soft warmth, reveling in the delicate intimacy.

  With a breathy whimper, Jesse’s mouth opened slightly and Drake took full advantage. He swept his tongue inside, tracing hungrily over smooth velvety surfaces, teasing and massaging Jesse’s timid tongue with his own. The sweet flavor and delicious heat, the residual taste of raspberry and dark chocolate intoxicated him, and he wanted more. He moaned loudly and pulled Jesse closer, pressing his mouth open wider, coaxing a response from the trembling man in his arms.

  A sudden flash of bright light from a passing car startled him and Jesse shoved him away, breathing heavily. “Oh my God,” he whispered, huge eyes locking on Drake’s face. “I can’t.”

  “Jesse? I’m sorry I got carried away. It’s just...you’re so damn sexy. I know I overstepped. Look. It’s late. Can I see you again?”

  “No. Not I can’t sleep with you. I want to. But I can’t. There’s someone else.”

  Drake jerked back as if slapped. “Someone else? And you couldn’t call him to help you, I suppose?”

  “You assume it’s a him?”

  Drake snorted in response. He damn well knew the someone else was a him. No straight man wore three-inch heels in the rain, no matter how fucking short he was. Not to mention, he’d likely have been punched square in the jaw at the first touch if Jesse weren’t gay.

  “I know it’s a him. Just like I know you can’t be all that in love with him if you can kiss me like that.”

  “I didn’t. You...” Flustered looked good on Jesse. He looked just as adorable unable to put two sentences together as he had sopping wet on the side of the road. Jesse fumbled with the door handle, and Drake quietly flicked the lock. Child safety locks or some such thing. If the car reached a speed in excess of fifteen miles per hour, the door locks engaged automatically.

  “I’m really sorry,” Jesse tried again. Drake scowled. He was pouting, but he refused to let that bother him now. He was tired, hungry, wet to the skin, and disappointed that the first man he’d been seriously interested in since Alexi left him was attached to someone.

  “Me too. You didn’t have to flirt with me. Just like you didn’t have to pretend to be a woman. I’d have helped you even if you’d told me up-front you were unavailable. You have my card. Call me when you break things off with this guy who doesn’t satisfy you.” A tiny twinge of guilt for his bitter jibes gnawed at his conscience as the SUV door slammed on what sounded vaguely like a muttered “when hell freezes over.” Drake slumped back in his seat and drove wearily off to his own apartment, feeling old and worn out.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Stepping through the doorway, Jesse resisted the urge to look back over his shoulder at the incredibly handsome, dangerous man who’d just come to his rescue like a knight in shining armor. He’d never felt the slightest temptation to stray before, but Drake Fallon had short-circuited his thinking. Closing his eyes, he inhaled deeply the scents of home: warm vanilla, a touch of cinnamon, and the barest hint of residual smoke. He inhaled deeply again, hoping to chase the seductive scent of Drake from his nostrils.

  Jay must have smoked in the house again and lit incense hoping to cover the smell. He shook his head, smiling fondly. A nurse who smoked. Jay claimed the majority of the staff at the hospital, doctors included, smoked. When Jesse chastised him, asking him if he’d jump off a bridge if the doctors at the hospital did it, Jay smacked him on the arm, just as he had when they were eight. Jay claimed that working in the emergency room he saw a million ways that people’s lives could be cut short outside of their control, no matter if they smoked.

  Gorgeous brown eyes, thick dark curls of hair, and a firm square jaw roughened with stubble intruded on his thoughts of Jay. Drake, oh fuck, did the man know how to kiss! Seduction in the flesh. When those firm lips met his, he’d been washed under a tide of desire he hadn’t felt for a man other than Jay, ever. He’d come to terms years before with his and Jay’s relationship. He’d never desired another man or woman, until now. Drake had confused and flustered him from the moment he’d stepped into the glare of his own headlights and approached Jesse. There was no other possible explanation for his stupid urge to hide by pretending he was female. What caused him to forget his commitment to Jay during that kiss he couldn’t fathom, but he could ignore it. It wouldn’t happen again. Jay remained the most important person in his life.

  Shaking off his perturbed thoughts, Jesse
locked the door and left the porch light on for Jay when he got in from his shift in the early morning hours. His twin brother worked too many shifts at the short-staffed hospital. Jay said the overtime pay made it worthwhile, but Jesse missed curling up next to Jay, seeing his smiling face when he got home from school, and being with him in general. Maybe he could blame the long spell of celibacy for his strange attraction to the cop this evening. With Jay working twelve hours on the night shift, and Jesse’s schedule at the school and his classes for his master’s degree, they barely traded kisses in passing most days.

  Realizing he stood dumbly in the entrance hall of his home as though he were a stranger waiting for permission to enter, Jesse placed his backpack and laptop bag on the cedar bench by the front door. Missing something. The brownie plate. Grandma’s Wedgwood. Only then did he realize he’d left the brownie plate with its few remaining brownies on the floor of Drake’s SUV.

  Fingering the little rectangle of cardstock in the pocket of his jeans, he shrugged off the leap of pleasure at the idea of seeing Drake again. He wouldn’t call. He could live without the plate, even if it was a part of the matched set his mother had passed down to him from her grandmother. If Jay asked, he could claim one of the kids at the bake sale had broken it. Maybe he could find a replacement from one of the online auction sites. Seeing Drake was too much temptation. The man made him hot, and that was wrong. He loved Jay, and screwing around wasn’t an option.

  He hung his leather jacket on the coatrack above the bench and sat to tug off his boots. Drake’s brown eyes and Jay’s blue ones swirled through his mind. He could picture them, the three of them, actually. Drake’s large muscular body, golden and tan, rough with the tiny hairs that dotted his arms, all muscle and fire. Jay, sweet, lean and lithe, pale from sleeping during the day and working at night. Sighing, Jesse shoved the boots under the bench and headed down the hall to shower.