“Reading. Writing. I work a lot.” All the time, according to Levi. But Levi seemed like a long time ago.

“Reading. Okay. The Great Gatsby?”

“You never read it?”

“Maybe in high school.”

“High school? I’d have figured you went to a fancy prep school.”

“I did,” Pierce said. “I went to Lawrenceville. But I can guess what you think of fancy prep schools.” He was smiling, a rueful and surprisingly charming smile.

Griff considered that smile cautiously. Yes, it did seem like Pierce was flirting with him. At least in another time and place...and with another guy... “What do you like to do?” he asked.

“I work a lot too. I sail. I play squash. I play the piano.”

“Do you?”

“No.” Pierce smiled at him, and Griff thought maybe Pierce did play the piano.

“Gatsby,” Pierce prodded.

Griff realized he didn’t want to talk to Pierce about a book that meant as much to him as Gatsby. He was pretty sure Pierce wasn’t going to get it, given that he wasn’t even sure whether he’d read it or not. And if Pierce didn’t get it and made him feel stupid, then whatever was maybe going to happen between them wouldn’t happen.

Granted, it was hard to picture anything happening. Except every time Griff met Pierce’s old-gold gaze he felt a certain warm awareness in his belly.

“You know, Thursday night is karaoke,” Diana said to her brother, taking her chair once more.

“You don’t...” Griff stared from one to the other, and Diana burst into a spluttering laugh.

“Can you imagine Pierce doing karaoke? Oh my God. I would pay anything to see that.”

“There ain’t enough money in the world,” Pierce retorted.

Diana was laughing an evil laugh. “What do you think he’ll pick to sing? He’ll do it for you,” she told Griff. “Ask him.”

“You’re insane,” Pierce told her, but he was starting to laugh too.

“What’s your favorite song?” Diana asked Griff.

“‘Counting Stars,’” he said at random.

“OneRepublic? I love that song. Pierce, come on!”

“No more drinks for you,” Pierce said.

“Coward.”

The waitress returned at that moment, and Pierce, expression resigned, paid for the round. Diana sipped from her glass, and rose again. “All right. Well, I need to get back to my friends. You two have fun.” She added to Griff, “We’re going to get together for lunch this week. And Pierce is not invited.” She met Pierce’s point-blank look with one of her own. “You’re not invited.”

Diana sauntered away. She did it well. The crowd seemed to part before her.

Pierce sipped his Black Velvet. Griff had never known anyone outside of a book order a Black Velvet cocktail. “What is that?” he asked.

“Champagne and Guinness. Here, try it.” Pierce handed his glass to Griff, and after a hesitation Griff took the tumbler and sipped it cautiously. He could have been swallowing poison for all the attention he paid to the mixture. He was only conscious of sharing Pierce’s glass, of the implications of Pierce sharing his drink with him.

“Not sure about that,” he said, handing the tumbler back to Pierce.

“It’s an acquired taste.” Pierce took another mouthful. “Do you have brothers and sisters?”

“No. It was just me and my mom growing up.”

“And that was in Janesville? You lived there all your life?”

“I was born in New Mexico, but we moved to Janesville when I was about six.”

“It’s nice to have roots, right?” Pierce was smiling, but Griff had the feeling his mind was on something else.

He finished his meal and pushed the plate away.

Pierce drummed his fingers in a restless tattoo. Either imagining he was playing “Chopsticks” or trying to make his mind up about something. His eyes slanted Griff’s way.

Griff smiled.

Pierce’s eyes seemed to darken. He said abruptly, “Do you want to get out of here?”

Griff nodded. “I do, yeah.”

* * *

Sure enough, Pierce lived in a mansion in Muttontown. Not one of the old, venerable mansions. Pierce’s mansion was new construction. Seven thousand square feet of brick manor house set on two and a half acres of landscaping and woodland. Inside it was all extensive millwork, wide expanses of oak floors, and custom cabinets and fixtures. It smelled like a new house, empty and sharp with the fading scents of paint and timber and stone. There was indeed a grand piano in whatever you called that giant main room. It was too big and too elegant to simply be called a living room. Besides, it didn’t look like Pierce actually lived here. For one thing there was so little furniture and so much house.

“I don’t entertain at home much,” Pierce said, following Griff’s gaze to the big empty spot in the kitchen where a table and chairs were supposed to sit.

“Sure.”

“I’m not sure I’ve ever actually cooked a meal here.”

“Good thing I didn’t come for the lamb chops then.”

Pierce laughed and took Griff into his arms. It was easy and practiced, and Griff knew this was going to be safe sex. Not safe sex only in the context of condoms and common sense, but safe sex as in no one’s heart was going to get broken. Because no one was going to fall in love. This was plainly not anything unusual or out of the ordinary for Pierce. And that was okay, because while it was unusual and out of the ordinary for Griff, it couldn’t be anything more than that. He was a stranger in a strange land, and at the end of this week he would be going home to write his book. He would likely never see any of these people again. Certainly there would be no reason to see Pierce again.

This was just one night. Twenty years from now he would probably not even remember it.

Then Pierce’s mouth covered his, hot and tasting of Black Velvet, and Griff knew he was not going to forget this night. Not ever.

Pierce kissed him with sweet expertise, his heart pounding through the fine cotton of his shirt, his cock hard through the tight and tailored trousers, but still controlled, still in charge. Griff felt the exact moment when Pierce stopped thinking and began to get lost in the moment.

“Jesus God.” Pierce’s quiet, heartfelt groan sent Griff’s own heart rocketing, his cock surging against the restriction of jeans and boxers...it felt like layers and layers between them, keeping them from each other. Pierce’s breathing roughened, his mouth hungry and seeking, lips nibbling, pulling on Griff’s.

Eyes closed, hands locked on Pierce’s broad shoulders, Griff opened his mouth to Pierce’s tongue. Nobody had ever kissed him like this. In fact, this much aggression usually turned him off. But this...this heat, this insistence that felt as much like longing as force, this seemed to crackle through his bloodstream like champagne bubbles—or maybe just an oxygen bubble heading straight to his heart.

He laughed shakily and Pierce’s lips parted from his. Pierce’s eyes looked dazed. “What?”

Griff shook his head.

“What?” Pierce insisted, his gaze clearing.

“You’re beautiful,” Griff said. He blushed as the words came out, but it was true. Pierce was way out of his class. And it wasn’t because of the expensive haircut or the fancy clothes. Griff was even getting to like that heavy, perfumy aftershave, especially at this time of day when the fragrance had faded and Pierce smelled more like soap and the exertions of the day.

Pierce smiled. The wrong smile right then could have killed the moment dead, but the corner of his mouth was wry and the skin around his eyes crinkled as though Griff had said something unexpectedly endearing. “No,” he said. “You’re beautiful.”

His hands had been smoothing Griff’s shoulders, as though learning the shape of him, but now they slid down Griff’s arms, found his hands. He laced his fingers with Griff’s. “Come on,” he said softly. “Come upstairs.”

* * *

Pierce left the bedroom lights on and so the room was as bright as a summer day. Even so, Griff saw nothing but Pierce. There was a bed, of course—they were sprawled on its white and cloudlike billows—but that was the extent of his awareness. So much for his reporter’s eye.