“This really isn’t a good idea. We don’t surprise people with photos and lingerie.” Talking to myself earned me a few odd looks from the people walking by, but I really didn’t care. I had better things to worry about than their opinions on my mental health—like how Spencer was going to react to the pictures Devin wanted.

To play devil’s advocate, I thought Spencer would love the chance to be in the pictures, but he’d made it very clear to Eli he wasn’t ready to do it.

Maybe he just wasn’t ready for Eli?

That had been my logic as well as Devin’s when he’d brought up the idea, but now I wasn’t so sure. Talking a nervous sub or model through a shoot was my specialty, but this didn’t feel like the same thing. Consent was the big issue—and a weekend of complete submission might not qualify if Spencer had sunk deeply into the role.

It was going to come down to how he reacted when I got there.

Eli was going to lose his pretty little marbles.

Wait.

Didn’t I know him?

When Eli started ranting about the UPS guy, it’d never occurred to me that it was the same one who came to the center. My UPS guy was professional to the point of boring, and I wasn’t even sure the guy was gay.

But there he was.

Peeking around the corner of the doorway, he had wide eyes and an achingly curious expression that screamed how desperately he wanted to understand something about the photo shoot. Whereas before when we’d run into each other he’d never even pinged my gaydar, now it was lighting the whole damned place up.

Like rainbow-fireworks-shooting-out-of-everyone’s-asses kind of obvious.

I still wasn’t sure how I’d gotten dragged to another photo shoot. I’d told Eli no. Hadn’t I? I was pretty sure I’d said no. Maybe.

It was all Lane’s fault.

He’d been the one to bring Eli to lunch, so this had to be all his fault. I still wasn’t sure why Eli had wanted to come in the first place. Normally, all Lane and I talked about was business stuff. The plan had been to talk about the possible marketing options for when I took my freelance accounting business to the next level by quitting my corporate accounting job, but that had to be put on hold with Eli there.

“It’s not stalking—it’s getting coffee.” The voice coming from behind me wasn’t as quiet as the speaker probably thought it was, because even though it was low, it was still perfectly clear in the busy coffee shop.

“It’s stalking when you do it just to follow someone.” Where the first voice had been teasing and slightly sarcastic, the second was…sweeter somehow. Even if the words had been boring, I think the difference would’ve drawn my attention.

“It would be stalking if you kept obsessively walking past a store and trying to follow him home.” There was an unsaid duh in the voice that made me want to laugh. But since I seemed to be the object of their not-stalking, I thought it might be inappropriate, or chase them off. Neither of which was the goal at that point.

The second voice still sounded skeptical. “Okay, yeah…that’s really stalking, but I think this counts too.”

Starting over sucked. Starting over because of a man was even worse. Moving clear across country to get away from the rumors and financial ruin made it almost unbearable. Having to hide the anger and the frustration was the hardest part. And I wasn’t even sure I was doing a very good job of it.

Otherwise, I would have had the damned job by that point.

“I think it’s going to be interesting.” That translated to boring and monotonous in my head. I was hoping the owner of Leashes and Lace didn’t hear it, though. Catalog photos, fuck. It wouldn’t matter if they were guys in lingerie. It was still boring.

Preston was nodding, but the way he was analyzing me put me on edge. I needed the damned job, but he wasn’t giving me enough to work with to know if I was saying the right shit or not. Any monkey could have taken the photos.

“Alright. We’re going to get the hard stuff out of the way first. If you’re still interested afterward, I’ll show you around. Because it’s a good-size apartment, and I’m not asking an arm and a leg for the rent.” I hadn’t even given the guy a chance to say anything as I opened the door. I’d just charged right in, doing my best to ignore his big brown eyes and startled expression.

Reminding myself that I did not need to get distracted by the sexy teddy bear of a guy before I even knew how crazy he was, I kept going. “I work from home, so I’m here nearly all the time. I’m a little OCD, so if you’re messy, that’s going to be a problem. I’m gay. So if you’re a homophobe, or something crazy like those morons with the signs, I don’t even want to hear it. I’ve gotten the insanity from a dozen different people over the past week, so keep that shit to yourself.” He hadn’t run screaming like the uptight accountant, or crying like the short guy who’d started losing it because evidently, all the good apartments were gay, so it was a good sign.