Better Than Chance Read online

  Copyright

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  Dreamspinner Press

  5032 Capital Circle SW

  Suite 2, PMB# 279

  Tallahassee, FL 32305-7886

  USA

  http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com/

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of author imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Better Than Chance

  © 2014 Lane Hayes.

  Cover Art

  © 2014 Aaron Anderson.

  [email protected].

  Cover content is for illustrative purposes only and any person depicted on the cover is a model.

  All rights reserved. This book is licensed to the original purchaser only. Duplication or distribution via any means is illegal and a violation of international copyright law, subject to criminal prosecution and upon conviction, fines, and/or imprisonment. Any eBook format cannot be legally loaned or given to others. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without the written permission of the Publisher, except where permitted by law. To request permission and all other inquiries, contact Dreamspinner Press, 5032 Capital Circle SW, Suite 2, PMB# 279, Tallahassee, FL 32305-7886, USA, or http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com/.

  ISBN: 978-1-62798-409-6

  Digital ISBN: 978-1-62798-408-9

  Printed in the United States of America

  First Edition

  January 2014

  To those who bring out the best in us all. For me… Bob.

  Prologue

  I’M GETTING married next month. It’s crazy. Not because I’m not the marrying kind. I am. Definitely. I love any and all things romantic. Songs, movies, novels. As long as there is a happy ending, I’m in. Like many other hopeless romantics, I’m also unfailingly optimistic. I figured the right man was out there somewhere. I could almost picture what he’d look like… tall, dark, and handsome. I’m not necessarily shallow, so I would certainly have entertained blond and homely, but at six foot three, I really hoped for a man on the taller side. In the end, I got what I was looking for, in spades. Well, sort of….

  I may have always figured I’d be a married man one day, but Peter did not. Ever. Not to a woman, not to a man… he simply wasn’t that guy. Peter is my fiancé, my boyfriend, partner, lover… soon to be husband. We have been together now for five years. And yes, we’re gay. Out and proud and happy to be so. Peter may be less so than me. Don’t get me wrong. He is a well-adjusted, out gay man; however, that is where the similarities end.

  Well, that and we’re both tall. He’s six foot four. After that, it’s a case of opposites attract. But the thing people forget about falling for someone who is your polar opposite is that you may just as easily hate them. That’s how it was for me. No one on this earth could ever deny that Peter Morgan is hotter than hell, and certainly not me. However, once I had to interact with him, infatuation fled and I was left wondering why the most gorgeous ones were either straight, taken, or just plain assholes.

  Obviously there is a story here or I wouldn’t be on the verge of agreeing to a lifetime commitment. I feel compelled to relate it because I have learned so much over these past few years from this man and our relationship. One important lesson is an age-old one. Never judge a book by its cover.

  1

  Five Years Previously

  Washington, DC

  I ARRIVED at my office at what felt like the crack of dawn. Actually I think it was. It was still dark outside when I pushed open the grand glass doors in the lobby of the modern low-rise where Jackson and Burnell commandeered the top two floors. I hadn’t had my first cup of coffee yet, so I was half asleep. I remember vaguely hoping I’d checked the color of my socks before I put them on that morning. Six thirty was too early for me. I didn’t usually get to the office until eight, and I liked it that way. I liked the cheerful buzz of people on the streets and sidewalks making their way to their workplaces. Even when conditions were less than accommodating, I enjoyed the hustle and bustle. So you had to deal with a little weather… no big deal. It was better than deserted streets and darkened lobbies.

  I shivered in my long navy wool coat, closing my eyes for a moment while I waited for the elevator. I was so damned tired. I probably shouldn’t have gone dancing with Aaron last night. It was a blast, but four hours of sleep wasn’t going to cut it for the day I had ahead of me. I was starting a new project today. A big one. I was thrilled to have been asked, which was how I ended up staying out all night celebrating with my best friend. Coffee, I thought again. That’s what I needed.

  I made my way through the darkened corridor to my own small office before making a beeline for the coffeemaker. I checked messages on my cell phone while I waited patiently for the high-tech machine to brew my lifeline for the day. It may sound dramatic, but I could feel a wave of exhaustion settle over my body as I leaned against the granite countertop in the office kitchen. I felt like I might fall asleep standing up. I turned at a sound behind me.

  “I brought you this. I had a feeling you’d be a little slow this morning.”

  Rebecca handed me a large takeout coffee from our favorite shop on the corner.

  “They were closed when I got here. How did you get this?” My voice was reverent as though she’d pulled off the most amazing feat ever.

  “Jay baby, I know it wouldn’t have even occurred to you to see if they were open. You’re too used to me spoiling you. I should never have started bringing you coffee. You probably barely know how to use the machine in your own home! And you sure don’t know how to use this one. Honey, you have to turn it on!”

  I gave a puzzled look at said machine and realized she was right. I hadn’t turned the fucker on. Oh well. I gave her a big smile and leaned over to kiss her cheek.

  “Thank you, darlin’. I wouldn’t survive without you.” I batted my eyelashes before turning back toward my office.

  Rebecca followed me, taking a seat in one of the two modern black leather chairs facing my desk. Rebecca was one of our secretaries. She’d been at Jackson and Burnell for ten years. She was happily married to a contractor and lived the family life with her chubby hubby and their three kids and two dogs out in the suburbs of Maryland. I think cats and birds were mentioned, but I had tuned her out by then. When I was first hired three years ago, fresh out of graduate school, Rebecca was one of the first people I’d met. Ironically, it was in the kitchen where I’d been trying to make a cup of coffee. I rolled my eyes at the memory. She was right: I was hopeless.

  “So, I take it you did a little celebrating last night? Tell Mama all about it.”

  I laughed. She was one of those funny, straight married women who loved gay men. She loved hearing about my grand gay adventures, even though she knew most of what I told her was pure bullshit. I entertained her. Whatever the case may be, she had become an ally and a friend. In the cutthroat work environment of a lobbyist in the nation’s capital, you learn quickly whom you can trust and whom you cannot. I was lucky to have her on my side.

  I spent a few minutes embellishing my tale of debauchery from the evening before. The truth was that Aaron, my best friend, had insisted we go out to celebrate. After a drink or three, he talked me into going dancing at a nearby club. I hadn’t required much persuasion in all honesty, but that’s just how things were for me sometimes. It was hard to stop having fun when I was on a roll. Aaron understood. Not everyone else did, though. Rebecca just laughed and shook her head at me.

  “You o
ught to know better. How old are you now anyway? Twenty-eight?”

  “Well, we used to be friends. I’m twenty-seven! Alright already… as interesting as the subject may be, enough about me. Do we know who the project leader is yet? How big the team is? What do you know, All-Seeing-One?”

  Rebecca giggled like a schoolgirl and shifted her larger frame in her chair. She pulled out a pair of reading glasses and her notepad and pen. Suddenly she was the epitome of a diligent secretary working for a high-profile DC firm. I adjusted effortlessly into work mode myself and began to take notes. Our new client was a new environmentally progressive solar energy firm who required our assistance with the Department of Energy. What exactly that entailed and who would be assigned to tackle what issues would all be discussed in our morning meeting with the project lead.

  “I don’t know who the lead is for certain, but I have a suspicion you’ll be happy.” Rebecca peered at me over the rim of her reading glasses, her brown eyes twinkling with amusement.

  “Oh? Do tell. The caffeine is finally taking hold, but my body is still wondering why the hell I’m here at seven fucking a.m.”

  “Language!” She reprimanded. Rebecca didn’t mind swearing per se, but she really hated the word “fuck.” Too bad. It was one of my personal favorites.

  “Sorry, ma’am.” I turned on my southern charm and was begrudgingly forgiven.

  “I have a feeling it’s Peter Morgan. You know, the really handsome….”

  “Oh my! How will I concentrate? Do you know we’ve never worked together before? This is rather exciting! More to celebrate! I have had a major crush for two years.”

  “Honey, this whole office has. But, don’t get too excited. I think he bats for the other team.”

  “Oh that is too bad…. Shouldn’t you be admonishing me about infatuation at the work place? It is, after all, highly unprofessional.”

  “Well, yes. But who could blame you? That man is fi-ine!”

  We giggled, but quickly got back to work. I needed as much information as possible to prepare for the seven-thirty meeting.

  REBECCA’S SOURCE was solid. I entered the glass-enclosed meeting room five minutes early to find the head chair taken by his truly, Peter Morgan. He was on his cell phone, but lifted his head in greeting when I walked into the room. I sat three seats away in deference to his phone call and took the opportunity to study my new project supervisor.

  God-like beautiful. It really was no exaggeration to say Peter Morgan was a blessed man in the looks department. He was taller than me, which made him instantly interesting, because at six foot three, I was always one of the taller men in any given room. His dark hair and classically gorgeous features reminded me of an Italian movie star or a GQ model. His hair was cut short and had an effortlessly styled look. His cheekbones were high and complemented his square jaw beautifully. In short, he was dreamy. I sighed and silently reprimanded myself. This delicious man was my boss, not a potential conquest. He was completely off-limits. An office romance wasn’t in the cards. Being a member of this project team was important for my career. I needed to show my professional and hardworking side, not get caught drooling over my straight project leader.

  A few more people took seats around the table. Light chatter filled the conference room until Peter set his phone aside and immediately had the attention of everyone at the table. There were just eight of us gathered at the large glass table, which was a little odd since most of the firms we dealt with were large and required substantial resources and manpower on our part. Peter addressed the smaller than normal group and explained that this was a small but extremely important project. Each of us had been specifically chosen because of our superior skill sets and he was confident that we would be more than capable of completing our objective within the specified time frame. The gist was that they were asking eight people to do what sixteen people usually were assigned to do in two months. Two months was literally half the time normally allocated for any project.

  No one groaned aloud but surely everyone’s internal reaction must have been similar to my own “You’ve got to be fucking kidding, right?” I didn’t say a word, though. I took copious notes and thanked my lucky stars when I saw that I had been paired with Melanie Martin for my portion. Mel was very bright and a hard worker, but she was blessed with a wicked sense of humor, which was more than I could say about a few of those assembled around the table. Everyone was very serious and determined to make a good impression. I was ready and willing to work hard also, but I could never understand why people tended to lose their ability to laugh at work. In my opinion, that’s when you needed it the most.

  I soon realized that this supposed elite project I’d been assigned to would eat up practically every waking minute of every day, including my weekends for the next two months. I had to find some glimmer of humor to get through the grueling schedule in the weeks ahead. At that very moment, I came up blank. One bright spot was that at least I’d be treated to the regular dose of eye candy that was our handsome leader. Damn, Rebecca was right… he was fine.

  I watched him carefully as he stood and drew our attention to the PowerPoint presentation behind him. His expensive charcoal suit jacket hugged his broad shoulders in all the right places. I wondered if he played sports when he was in high school or college. Maybe football. He had the build of a football player for sure. I could just see him in those tight pants and….

  “Mr. Reynolds?”

  Oh shit. I looked up to see Peter giving me a curious but somewhat dangerous look. He had obviously caught me gawking at him and wondered what the hell my problem was. I quickly refocused and gave what I hoped was a professional nod before asking him to repeat the question. I saw Mel hide a small grin, but otherwise I kept my eyes on the whiteboard and not on Mr. Morgan’s ass. This was going to be harder than I thought.

  MY CELL phone vibrated on my desk later that afternoon. I had been in meetings all day, either with the entire team or with Mel. Tomorrow, each team would meet with Mr. Morgan to brief him on our initial plans for the project. Mel and I had divided our duties and would meet in the morning to collaborate before presenting our ideas to the boss. I had a long night ahead of me and all I wanted was to go home and curl up on my sofa watching reruns of Will and Grace. I checked the caller ID and smiled. Aaron always cheered me up.

  “Jaybird, tell me all about your day. Is your new project worth the hangover you must have? I am suffering! Tell me I’m not alone.”

  “You are most assuredly not alone.” I lowered my voice, although I was in my office with the door closed. “I’m not sure it’s going to be worth it, though.”

  “Oh, honey. Want me to make you dinner? You can tell me all about it.”

  “I wish. I’m going to be here for a while yet.” I filled Aaron in, and not for the first time, I found myself wishing we were attracted to each other.

  Aaron was beautiful, smart, funny, and sexy as hell, but there was no spark between us. We were just too similar. Physically we looked nothing alike. Aaron was a little height-challenged at five foot eight. He was Puerto Rican American and blessed with gorgeous olive skin, dark hair, and pretty hazel eyes.

  In contrast, my ancestors came over on the Mayflower. No joke. My dad loved to talk genealogy and would happily bore anyone who even pretended to be interested about the harsh conditions our forefathers braved back in 1620. Like everyone else in my family, my three older brothers, younger sister, and parents, I was taller than average with dark-blond hair and blue eyes. I knew I was considered good-looking, but I always thought my looks were more “boy next door” than pretty like Aaron’s.

  Although we were night and day in the looks department, we loved all the same things. Techno-pop music, romantic comedies, shopping, dancing… we were perfect together. Except, he was my best friend only. As lovely as he was, I didn’t want to have sex with him. We kissed when we first met and ended up laughing our asses off. That’s when I knew I’d met someone special. If you can’t laugh
, you cry. It’s easy enough to find someone to spend a night with, but someone you trust, admire, and want to shop with… not so easy.

  Aaron listened and made all the right comments about “poor little Jay.” I felt a little better when I hung up, but I could have cried when I looked at my computer. I had so much to do and I didn’t know where to begin. I rubbed my hands over my face, stared unseeingly out my window for a minute, and then shook my head. So I wouldn’t see my friends or family for the rest of February, March, and half of April. My days and nights would be filled with spreadsheets and boring meetings. No partying. No fun. Oh well. I would survive. I hoped.

  TWO WEEKS later, I was beginning to lose my mind. I was a people person. I enjoyed meeting new people, and I’d always been good at small talk. A lobbyist was in a sense a salesperson. You had to possess good people skills as well as intelligence if you hoped to influence decisions on behalf of an important multi-billion dollar empire. But it occurred to me that Peter Morgan was the only face of this project, and while my role was important, I wasn’t going to spend much time meeting and greeting. I might get the odd assignment that would send me over to the Department of Energy, but that was hardly exciting.

  At least Mel was a good partner. She wasn’t easygoing, but she wasn’t overly full of herself either. I was beginning to feel like everyone was on a major quest to impress. We all wanted to do well, of course, but there was no denying there was something about Peter Morgan that made you want to try a little harder. He had an almost dangerous air about him that clearly told anyone who paid attention that he did not suffer fools. So we put our heads down, determined to put forth our best effort. I arrived every day before the sun and went home to my empty townhouse well after darkness had fallen.

  “HE SHOULD be here any second. You ready?”