Chapter  I

A sixth sense. That's what the others called it. Some of my more vocal colleagues had another name that wasn't worth printing. For me, I called it my nose. A nose for news. It was that trait that had brought me down to the bar called McGinty's for the fourth time this week.

Although I wasn't a reporter on the beat anymore, I still hung out with the junior cub reporters - the poor unworthy minions of the paper who scurry around Chicago reporting every little bit of newsworthy item they could find to the almighty editors. With my syndicated column running every few days, three shiny Pulitzers lining my office wall and my acerbic wit taken as gospel by a generous section of the public, I certainly had no need of tagging along with them, living with that mindless, frenetic pace. No, Jake Evans no longer needed to pound the streets in search of the next big story. Not that I ever needed to do that in the first place. But I enjoyed it, loved the fun of seeing and talking to people, of being the first to know, the first to be at the scene.

For the past few months, my nose had started twitching again, sniffing the scent of a big, juicy story that had been hiding away right at my doorstep. It started with a few run of the mill incidents that had me puzzled. As I moved along the streets of Chicago cataloguing the occasional small stories that never quite made it to the front page, I kept on noticing a familiar figure always standing around in the background. Each time something even the least noteworthy happened, this man stood at the fringes watching, missing little in his quiet gaze.

Very little in life was coincidental. His perfect timing at every scene definitely wasn't. Several times he'd even managed to save a hapless soul from what would seem to be certain death but each time, he just faded into obscurity. As soon the police started scouring the area in question, the man would make his silent, unobtrusive disappearance.

But Gary Hobson didn't fade away from my memory. A pair of soft, puppy-dog eyes had snared me from the first and I was notably intrigued. Without a doubt, my nose scented something fishy but the other parts of my body just reacted to the fact that here was a man destined to make my days a living hell. It wasn't the way he looked. Far from looking like some otherwordly demon, the man looked like a veritable angel with his regular, All-American handsome face with the prerequisite button nose and the soft sensuous lips. And those eyes. Even in the crowds, his eyes drew me and I remembered. Puppy-dog hazel? Brown eyes? I hadn't decided.

And it was that fact that was going to make my life hell. I was gay. And this sexy man made me hot.

Of course, he dressed down so that he wouldn't draw a crowd. He certainly didn't dress in a conspicuous manner. Dark overcoats, brown bomber jacket. Neat, conservative clothes that didn't call attention to himself. For myself, I'd have preferred him wet, luscious and dressed in a fluffy towel.

And coincidentally he was always armed with a newspaper. Always a newspaper tucked into his clothes somewhere. And he held it close, really close as if there was something important. Although I was pleased that the man I'd built numerous fantasies about did actually have a semblance of a brain and seemed to enjoy literary works - albeit the news, I knew that something was up.

Throwing myself back into the grind, I dug up as many articles as I possibly could, hiding myself for several days in the basement of the Chicago Sun-Times vault to search. The deeper I got, the more intrigued I became. On the surface, it seemed as if Mr Hobson was a damned hero, a terribly lucky man who seemed to be at the right time at the right place but there was something missing. Somehow, this man seemed to know what was going to happen in the future. It was the only possible explanation for his being at exactly the right place at the right time each time! Another psychic clairvoyant? It certainly hadn't escaped my mind as I'd had interviews with several of them. It was a fact that I couldn't deny but it couldn't explain the newspaper. A newspaper fetish?

So it was that for the past few weeks, I'd been scouting the area around McGinty's, slowly picking up clues about the man's life from his neighbours. My sources had revealed that Hobson ran the bar with his friend, a Marissa Clark. For the last three weeks or so, I'd been quite a regular at the bar, hanging around and getting to know them. If they were suspicious of me, a notorious reporter from the Sun-Times, they certainly never showed it.

I'd even met Gary Hobson himself. Sweet, funny, charming and totally oblivious to the hungry gazes I threw at him. The first time he shook my hand, I wondered whether he suspected how close I was to stripping my smooth veneer of civilization and tearing into him like a savage, mindless beast on the sleek, polished wooden bar. It wasn't that he answered my come-ons with blatant flirtations of his own nor did he give me any hope of ever reciprocating. Hell, the man hardly batted an eyelash when I kept his hand in mine a tad longer than I should have. And later, he hadn't even acknowledged the fact that I was staring mindlessly at his tight butt while weaving perverted fantasies.

Either he was really dead oblivious. Or he was dead straight! Either way, Gary Hobson was a challenge and I certainly loved challenges.

After meeting him, I tailed him for several days, following him on his errands. The newspaper was tucked neatly into his coat as usual. As preoccupied as he was with the problem that was causing wrinkles in that smooth brow, he hardly even noticed the six foot blond trailing half a block behind. And on that evening, I had my suspicions confirmed in a way.

On that one day itself, he managed to save a small girl from a close hit-and-run, a cat from a tree and also presumably helped an old lady from... who knew what was about to befall the poor soul? The old lady hadn't been impressed with the quick save and had given him a few painful clubs with her umbrella that had poor Gary fumbling. Fired up by her ingratitude, I was about to rush to his rescue when the man managed to escape from the irate granny. The second day was pretty much the same, running from one place to another, preventing what could have been definite tragedies. Of course, not all were earth-shattering tragedies. It was obvious on the second day that he was only trying to prevent a case of mild food poisoning in a French cafe. A string of French epithets had followed him out of the kitchen allowing with an angry chef with a sharp-looking blade.

A reluctant hero in every sense. In my mind's eye, I imagined a man in blue with a red cape flying around saving the world and I smiled. Though he probably wouldn't be caught dead in spandex, I was sure Gary would look great in them.

But it certainly solved the mystery of the newspaper somewhat. I noticed that during each incident, he kept his eye fixed on the paper before and after. Screwing up his eyes to concentrate before the incident and then brushing his hand off his brow in a gesture of relief after. Something was definitely up with that paper. Of course I had my educated guesses as to what it contained but I needed solid evidence. After all, the idea was pretty unbelievable.

A newspaper with tomorrow's news? Sounded like something from a comicbook.

Although getting hard evidence was still in my plans, somewhere in the space of one week, my agenda had started shifting widely. Since meeting him, there still was that tiny, selfish part of me that still desperately wanted to break the story but a bigger part of me that just plain wanted to get Gary Hobson. Into bed. Damn, into any flat surface. Trailing that cute butt as he went about saving the world, I realized that landing the story just wasn't as important as landing the man himself.

Apart from his good looks, I sensed a fascinating man hiding behind that shy smile. The little I knew of him, I put together a picture of a solid, reliable man, responsible and loyal to his friends. Obviously shy with forward women and social situations judging by his adorable, fumbling self in the bar. And obviously a hero in the making judging by what he did with his knowledge of the future. And a definite dreamboat, judging by the hard curve of his pecs and the curl of his biceps.

As usual oblivious to the lewd, perverted thoughts I'd just had of him, Gary waved me into the restaurant-cum-bar he'd bought. His eyes lit up when he saw me and his lips curved up in a welcoming smile. Dressed as usual in his button-down Oxford's with the black shirt inside and his tight black jeans, he looked wholesome, sweet and good enough to eat. My own Mr American Apple Pie. My thoughts immediately drifted towards X-rated Dream Variation No. 210 where I fucked him hard and furious in the dark broom closet until he came with a scream that could be heard till Hoboken. Like the man himself, his come would taste sweet too, I'm sure.

"Jake. Hi. Thought you wouldn't be back this evening." Dropping the towel he'd been using, he offered his large hand.

"Hey, Hobson. How's business?" Though my mouth was already salivating at the sight of him, my palms were thankfully dry as I shook his hand. Just like the other day, I kept his hand for a moment longer normal - and even added a quick squeeze and a wink. But to no avail.

The art of subtlety seemed to be wasted on him. As he continued to smile guilelessly at me, I was beginning to think I'd have to club him and drag him to my cave for some hot man-lovin'. Get him all tied up and feast on those pecs.

"Well, since you started coming around, that's a grand total of three customers each day," he admitted, a glint of humour in his eyes.

"Three?" Letting my glance sweep around the crowded room, I looked back at him with a wry smile. "Tell me another one, farm boy." It was a running joke that I'd been teasing him since the first day. How could I help it? With his well-scrubbed, clean-cut looks, he looked like an Indiana farmboy. To my eyes anyway.

Letting out a gusty sigh, he shook his dark head as he tried to fight the grin slowly spreading over his face. "Stop that will you? Hickory isn't a farm. It has electricity, you know. Lights up the house and all." Lifting a dark brow, he flashed me a crooked grin.

"A joke. I am impressed." My first impression of him had been a conservative, straight-laced, serious personality but now I realized that he did actually have a fine vein of irreverent humour in him. Deep inside that shy, fumbling front but it was there. Just waiting to be discovered and I sure was eager to explore.

"I try my best. Although that's about all the jokes I have in me for today." he admitted shyly.

"Oh, I'm sure I can drag another one out from somewhere."

"Well I do have another knock knock joke," he offered.

My tone turned grim. "Gary. Try it and don't live to see tomorrow."

He laughed. "Tell me something I don't know."

It was the perfect trap and too tempting to pass up. Chances were he'd hedge and attempt to change the subject but I just enjoyed seeing him fumble. It was so endearing after all. "Why? Do you know what's going to happen tomorrow?"

My question had him gaping for a minute before he stumbled through several convoluted explanations. "No. Did I say that? I didn't mean that. Nooo.. I meant.. No one knows what's gonna happen. Yeah. Umm.."

Since he looked like he was in danger of hyperventilating, I took pity on him and changed the subject. "Hey, you caught the Bears game the other day?"

Seeing that he'd gotten a lucky reprieve, he looked relieved. "No, I missed it."

"Missed the finals?" I said in abject shock. Of course, I knew exactly what he'd been doing since I'd been tailing him that day. Although I had no clue what he was doing, I knew for certain that he'd spent half an hour chatting up some blowsy hairdresser. "What did you do? Get your hair done?"

It was close to the truth and it had him gaping again. "No, why would you think that?"

There was a light of fear in those puppy-dog eyes and he looked ready to bolt. It was like taking candy from a kid and I knew it was mean. But it was so damned fun. But I knew I shouldn't push it. For all his innocent naivete, there was a keen mind behind that baby face. "It was a joke, Hobson. Take a deep breath and laugh."

Since he'd missed the game, I filled him in on several of the byplays. Of course, since I'd missed it too, I'd had it taped on my VCR and had caught it just this morning. Thank God for technology.

"Hey, that was pretty great. Wish I'd seen it when -" The man was paying attention for a while until something occurred to him. A quick glance at his watch caused him to fumble. "Wow, it's already 4. I need to go-"

"Run an errand?" I gave him a suggestion. No doubt something was about to happen. Part of me was tempted to tail him again but I figured that two days in a row would be trying enough. No need to push my luck.

"I-I.."

"Gotta run?"

"Yeah, sorry." Leaving the cloth he'd carried, he hurried down to the end of the bar. At the corner of my eye, I saw him slip a newspaper out from beneath the bar. The Chicago Sun-Times. It seems that Gary Hobson was off to the rescue again.

Just a moment after admiring his nice glutes as he pounded off down the street, I felt a motion beside me and the sound of a dog's bark.

"Glad to see you here again."

It was Marissa Clark. Since I'd been here, I'd watched her and I liked what I saw so far. At times, a person's handshake could tell you a lot. Incidentally, Marissa's was firm, strong and absolutely no-nonsense. I liked that. That was why I flashed my best grin at her and asked her to take a seat. "Likewise. Hey, join me."

"Sure, Jake." Ordering her big dog to rest, she brought her simmering coffee cup over to the table and sat with on the empty seat recently vacated. "So what brings you back here again? You're becoming a regular customer in McGinty's."

"Throwing me out, Marissa?" I laughed to show that I was kidding. Come to think about it, it must have been running through Gary's mind too since they knew my office was right across town. So I came up with the usual spiel. "The food. The ambience. The people."

My ready reply had her smiling her mysterious half-smile for a moment. At times when she had her profile turned a certain way, I wondered if she was the most beautiful black woman that I knew. Taking a slow, patient sip from her cup, she said to no one in particular. "And you're interested in Gary."

As it was, she could have knocked me over with a feather. Taken aback by her insight, I stared back in shock. A dozen excuses hovered at the tip of my tongue but before I could launch into any one of them, I stopped myself. "I could give you a million excuses but I guess you found me out. How the hell did you guess?"

"I listen well," she said simply. Putting down her cup, she folded her hands calmly in her lap and gazed straight ahead with her sightless eyes. The fact that she was visually challenged certainly hadn't stopped Marissa from being incredibly perspicacious. It was amazing and a little terrifying.

"I can definitely see that." I said impressed. With those ears, she'd have made an excellent reporter.

"And your subtle come-ons won't work on Gary."

The intent in her voice was clear and my eyes cooled. "And this is where you warn the gay pervert to lay off your straight friend."

Turning to me, her ready smile faltered and she reached out timidly for my hand. "No, you are wrong. That isn't what I thought. And you wrong me. I think we both know what prejudice can do."

"Marissa, forgive me." Slowly taking her hand in mine, I squeezed it and smiled. "You are a scary woman. And I like you."

Returning my warm squeeze, she nodded at me and rewarded me with one of her smiles. "I don't trust easily, Jake, but I get good vibes from you. And I sense that you care for Gary."

Seeing that I was trying to land her best friend in trouble, I didn't know how to answer that. "I can live with good vibes. So what were you going to say?"

"Just this." Pausing, she made a silent gesture, shaking her dark head. "Gary has been hurt many times in relationships with the opposite sex. He puts his feelings, his heart, a little too much of himself in each relationship and gets little in return. It has hurt him. Perhaps it's time he tried something else. Someone else."

Leaning back on my seat, I struggled with my words. "Okay, you definitely are scary. You're seriously telling me to do go after the poor straight man?"

The shock in my voice was obvious, more so with a woman like Marissa and she chuckled. "Yes. I believe he should have his options. Try harder with Gary. He's a wonderful man but he's oblivious to subtle come-ons."

"Tell me something I don't know." I sighed, picked up my beer and gave it another strong gulp. "Though I don't know what else I could possibly do."

"Just get him."

It was a clear order. Gazing at her in awe, I gave her a quick salute. "Yes, ma'am."

So it was with a clear conscience that I started my seduction plan. After all, I had the wise counsel of his best friend. And Marissa had to be one of the smartest women I knew. Heck, with that kind of advice, she was my best friend.

Get the job done. Hit him hard. Hit him fast. It seemed like my best bet. Leave the poor guy reeling. Taking a sip of beer to fortify myself, I told myself that it was for his own good. And it certainly didn't do me any harm to get a piece of that hot All-American ass.

There was a chance that he might be unwilling. But I could handle myself pretty well. If Gary got feisty, I was after all bigger, stronger and my left hook was still unmatched. But I didn't want to thump on him and leave a mark on that pretty boy face of his. There had to be a better way. His admitted celibacy for the past few months would be a factor that could lead to his downfal. To get the man hot and willing, all I'd have to do is make him shed some of his more puritanical inhibitions.

With a devious smile, I eyed the rows of beer bottles lined in front of me. It would certainly help.

Cloth in hand, he was cleaning up the bar when I stopped by again. "Staying pretty late tonight, huh?"

From the bits we'd shared and the bits I'd gathered from his riends, I'd pieced together a single man who had really bad, bad luck with women. Taking stock of his previous history, I found the perfect way to get him to take pity and empathize. "God, love sucks, don't it?"

"What do you -" His puppy-dog eyes softened. "Yeah, it does."

Holding up a bottle of booze I'd swiped off the counter earlier, I gave it a hard shake in front of him. "Take a drink with me, m'man. And let me tell you what has gone wrong in my life."

"A woman?" he hazarded a guess.

For a moment, I was tempted to tell him the truth but I hesitated. No need to go around scaring the lil fella right now. So I tried to hedge a little, "Isn't that the usual?"

Throwing the cloth over one shoulder, he smiled wryly and gratefully accepted the drink. "One drink and that's it."

"One drink," I said with a leer. Yeah, right, Hobson.

"And one knock knock joke."

"Don't push it. I'm half-drunk not stupid."

As the night grew late, I continued plying the man with drinks. Each time, he preached moderation, I cried a bit more about my heartache, patted his broad back, touched his soft heart and got him to drink a bit more. Pretty soon, he was just as sad and lachrymose as I seemed to be and confiding in some of his own sad love stories. Marcia. Erica. Meredith. Toni. Did he possibly know that I was restraining an urge to thump those ladies for being stupid enough to let go of a prize like him? What - were they blind?

Not that I was any better. Of course as I continued with my deceitful plan to get him drunk, I realized that I felt like a heel for playing with the man's good nature.

His deep laughter started to subside after I'd told him my latest joke, the one I'd entered into my byline for this week. As I rose to pour him another drink, Gary waved me away with slightly unsteady hands. "Whoa. I think that's enough, Evans. I'm already feeling pretty woozy."

As he grinned foolishly at me, I decided that it was just enough. After all, he already looked pretty unsteady. Fastidious as I was, I certainly didn't want an unconscious man in my bed. Or rather Gary's bed. "I think we're done for the day here. Thanks for sharing the pint."

Peeking out from the hands covering his face, he chuckled. "More than a pint, I'm sure."

"Think I'm gonna take a slow drive back."

"You're driving?" he said, his puppy-dog eyes narrowing in concern.

"Yeah? What about it?" I deliberately slurred my voice for effect. It wasn't that difficult to bring out the good samaritan in Gary Hobson. Letting a drunk man drive home all by his lonesome. It certainly wasn't Hobson's way to allow such a thing to happen.

True to form, he shook his dark head and placed his strong hand on my shoulder to stop me as I tried to stand. "Not tonight, Jake. You're gonna fall in a ditch if you drive now. Take a rest upstairs, I've a sofa. You can drive back tomorrow."

"I could argue but I'm not going to." His offer made me feel like a heel again which I guess I was. The poor guy wouldn't even see what was coming. "You sure you don't mind?"

Sending me a good-natured shrug, he shook his head. "Nope."

It was amazing that such a trusting man could exist in Chicago. Was he crazy? Deciding to test the waters a little, I tried pushing him. "You don't even know me that well. I could be a mass murderer. Rapist. Thief."

"Met all those," he mumbled softly into his empty mug.

"What?" I pretended not to have heard.

"No, no, I was just saying that you couldn't possibly be."

Deciding that he at least deserved some warning, I admitted. "I could be."

"Are you?"

"No." Well, not yet.

"Well, that's fine then." Giving me a shrug, he stood up, picked up the mugs and placed it on a tray to clear the table. The heft of the tray with several other empty mugs showed off the curl of his bicep and I drooled. Baby, you don't even know how tempting you are..

"I could be lying."

Placing the tray down at the end of the bar where the sink was, he turned and walked back to where I was. Flipping the cleaning cloth down onto the table, he started wiping. "You're not. I've known you for a week and you give.. you .."

"Good vibes," I tried.

Pausing for a moment, he played around with the word in his head and liked it. "Yeah, good vibes. That's it. Sounds familiar. Who said that?"

"Marissa."

The name evidently got a reaction from him as he smiled. "Oh yeah, she told me that the other day."

This was getting better and better. I didn't even expect it. Sitting up straight on the stool and looking him in the eye, I said softly. "You've been talking about me, Hobson?"

"No. No." He started to deny it, his face turned pink. Realizing that he didn't sound at all believable, he gave up. "I just.. okay, I did. With Marissa. If she says you have good vibes, you do."

Taken aback, I just stood and stared at him. How was it that such a wonderful man existed in this cruel world? It had to be the farm. Too much corn did that to a person. "You are a trusting soul, Gary Hobson."

"That's me."

The way he said it with such pride made me smile. "A Boy Scout. A god-damned fa-"

"Say farmboy and you're out in the streets, Evans," he warned with a teasing glint in his eye. Coming closer to me, his finger came to tap threateningly on my chest.

Catching his hand, I laughed. "I wasn't going to say that."

Pulling his hand away and giving me a quick swipe with the wet cloth, he moved away with the empty mugs. "Yeah, right."

"You're a good man."

Giving me a look over his shoulder, he eyed me suspiciously. "Stop with the compliments. You're still getting the sofa."

I laughed again.

Not exactly neat as a pin but I didn't really expect it to be. As a bachelor's apartment, it was certainly neat though especially taking into account Gary's frequent absences. Taking stock of my surroundings, I crossed into his living room and tok a load off on his sofa. Neat, spartan, solidly masculine decor. It was what I'd have expected from him. Mr No Frills - take me as I am. A bowl of cat food sat untouched on the floor close to the kitchen counter and I smiled. An animal lover too. Figures that he'd want to take care of the animal world too.

As I looked around, my discerning eye caught the newspaper resting on the coffee table. The Chicago Sun-Times. It was the one he'd been holding on to earlier - and the one he'd carelessly put aside as he went searching in the store closet for the extra blankets.

Instinct urged me on to grab at the paper but I restrained myself. Barely. Straining my sight, I managed to remain seated while I checked out the latest news. My heartbeat stilled for a moment when I saw the blurb for my column at the corner of the front page. My article was to appear in tomorrow's newspaper.

Just a few inches away, it was the story of the year and I could already see another substantial pay rise if I managed to break this story. But I imagined Gary's betrayed look, those downcast eyes and I knew that I couldn't do it. The scene changed and I imagined the public faced with the knowledge that such a thing existed, a paper that told the future. Imagined the unscrupulous people who would die to lay their hands on something that priceless. It wasn't a vision that I enjoyed.

Damn. No wonder he'd kept it a secret, I thought to myself. Footsteps rumbled on the wooden floorboards coming closer and I carefully shifted my gaze away from the newspaper. No need to be seen gaping like an idiot at it.

"Comfortable, Jake? You want to call anyone, tell them you're here?" Changed into a large T-shirt and boxer shorts, with his black hair rumpled and heavy-eyed, he looked like an ad for sleepwear in International Male and I smiled.

"No, Hobson. I don't have anyone." I answered honestly. "You sure you don't mind me sleeping over? I could call a cab."

"Nah, it's not a problem," he answered with a shrug. "Though some people say I snore like a log."

"I'll plug my ears."

My quick reply had him grinning again. "You do that."

"Hey, I didn't get a chance to read the news today." Although I knew I'd never print the story, I still had to know. My nose just was curious! "Can I see that?"

My hand reached out for the paper. That certainly woke him up in a hurry and I realized that the country boy could move fast when he needed to. Moving forward to drop the blanket on the edge of the sofa, he quickly took a seat on the table, managing to rest his butt right on the front page. "No."

Trying to act innocent, I raised an eyebrow in question. "I can't read your paper? Why not?"

"Because.. because look, I.." His mouth opened and closed but no words came out, at least no semblance of a reasonable explanation. In the rush, he obviously hadn't thought of a plausible reason and his heavy brows drew together now as he searched for an answer.

As he fumbled over his words, he looked nervous, worried and as adorable as hell. Worried that I'd find out his secret. Deciding to take pity on him, I spoke, "I love it when you're flustered."

"Huh?" Before he could say another word in edgewise, I tugged his hand and pulled him onto the sofa. Surprisingly the man weighed more than he looked but he still stumbled onto the sofa beneath me all the same. And as he stared back at me in shock, I'd already had my lips hell-bent on kissing him.

The first taste was electric. The shock held the man still for more than a moment as I reveled in the sensations that washed through me. The brush of his budding five-o-clock shadow, the touch of his soft, pliable lips, the warmth of his gasping breath burning my cheek, the ministrations of his surprisingly hard, firm body beneath mine. My hands shifted and started an exploration down his body.

As soon as his conscience kicked back in, the moment passed and Gary regained control, struggling beneath my weight. Desire urged me to take him, just overpower the man and have him but sanity prevailed and I released him.

Raising himself up on his elbows, he stared at me. His puppy-dog eyes were open wide now, his lips looking soft and bruised. "Jake? What the hell was that?"

The look on his face was puzzlement and surprise. I saw it as a good sign. He didn't throw a punch at me nor did he scream and run the hell out of there. "That was foreplay."

"Foreplay?"

"What, you didn't like it?"

"That's not what I meant." Realizing what he'd just said, his face burned. He blurted out. "You-you're gay? No no no no, don't answer that cause it doesn't matter. It's a dumb question...but uh, are you? Gay?"

Pleased that he hadn't gone haywire on me, I nodded easily. "That's the word for it. Yeah."

"But you're you're... you can't be!" The ridiculous panicked way he said it had me laughing. "Not that I mean anything disparaging."

"I was the last time I checked, Hobson."

"But - but.." he started stuttering. "You can't be."

"You're in denial, Hobson." Pulling myself up to a sitting position, I turned and faced him on the sofa. He was still lying down looking shell-shocked. "It shouldn't come as a surprise. I didn't exactly keep it a state secret - I don't believe you missed me checking out your ass last night."

The moment yesterday hadn't escaped his notice and his cheeks turned crimson. "I didn't but I- I thought I had a smudge of dirt on my pants, I could have gotten the stain when I .." he started to explain but faltered. Then taking a look at my raised brows, Gary chuckled and shook his dark head in amazement. "God, you really are gay."

"You've got that right."

Another suspicion crossed his mind and he looked at me closely, his green eyes searching. "And you're not drunk."

"No, I'm not."

He looked lost like a kid who had been told that there was no Santa. I wanted to kiss him again. As I must have mentioned earlier, I was never one to resist temptation.

But as I pulled him close, he tried to push me away, all the while trying to explain as calmly as he could. "Look, man, you know I'm not.. I'm not gay."

"Not saying you are." Already painfully hard at having him so close, I was finding it hard to concentrate anymore on what he said, especially after tasting those sexy lips. Another quick yelp came from him as I buried my face in the crook of his neck and started licking, biting the edge of his ear lobe.

It was obviously a pleasant sensation but he held me away, keeping his palms still on my chest. The alcohol had seeped into his brain however and he suddenly let out a moan when I nudged a particular spot. "Then don't.. don't.. Oh God."

"Go with the flow, Hobson," I breathed warmly into his ear. My tongue reached out to nudge a sensitive spot beneath his ear where he'd responded with a quiver earlier. Gauging his reactions, I pressed all the right buttons and had him moaning despite himself.

"No! I -I can't.. I don't know..."

His mouth was babbling and I had only one recourse to shut him up. So I sacrificed myself, left his neck and moved up to kiss him. About to offer another excuse, I planted my lips over his and thrust my tongue through his mouth which readily silenced him. The amazing sensation of having the man of my dreams in my arms was indescribable. Since I wanted the unsuspecting hunk to concede to my evil, depraved plans, I proceeded to render him utterly speechless by doing what I did best which was to drive a man crazy. Straight or not, a man has the same equipment and the same reaction to physical stimulation.

Even as he continued struggling, flexing his muscles to throw me off, my hands worked their magic, running down his athletic physique and finding the exact spots where they could gain an advantage. In the guise of exploration, I also came to realize that Gary's clothes hid what felt like an impressive physique, a wonder of tight sinew and hard muscles, and I was raring to uncover more.

It wasn't my habit to bed unwilling straight men and if Gary had only continued to complain and refuse my advances, I'd have taken my hands off his cute butt - no matter how irresistible it was under his tight jeans, offer a heartfelt apology, pick up my coat and leave. But as he gave some very agreeable moans in between his vociferous protests, I pretty much ignored him as I continued my assault. Between his months of presumed celibacy, the alcohol I'd practically poured down his throat - and my expertise, I soon had him agreeing to pretty much everything I wanted. Even I managed to impress myself as I toyed with several moves that had him gasping.

My fears were further allayed when I felt a hot throbbing next to my thigh and realized that Mr Hobson had kept a very large secret from me. My, they sure grew them big in Indiana. My eager hands reached down the front of his jeans and cupped the impressive bulge, giving it a gentle squeeze that earned another moan from him.

"Oh God," he yelped as my hands fumbled with the buttonfly of his jeans. Well practiced at the art, my clever fingers nudged the fly open and stilled just a breath away from what I was looking for. Something hot, impossibly large and pulsing with life lay just ahead. Looking up at Gary to encounter his own stunned gaze, I saw fear and indecision written on his pale face.

It was what I had feared. Just to be sure, I pulled off and stared at him. As I pulled away, those puppy-eyes came alive with a heat, burned with another feeling I'd never thought to see. Desire. "Wanna stop, Hobson?"

"Do it and die." His voice was a surprisingly deep growl that gave me shivers. His strong hands stopped fighting and instead pulled mine down into his jeans.

In his sleep, Gary looked even younger. A lock of black hair fell carelessly over his rumpled, handsome face, the worry lines smoothed over after last night's rest. His mud-puddle green eyes were shaded by the most amazing lashes, a thick, lush fan of jet black. As if in remembrance of the night before, a half-smile curled up his full lips.

Strength, beauty and a sort of innocence. All in one man. It was then that I realized that I loved him. What I'd seen so far had drawn me, had intrigued me, had made me fall. And fall hard. My mind adjusted to the fact quickly and I tried to shove it aside as just plain lust.

But it wasn't just lust. Though his incredible appetite for sex had come as a pleasant surprise to me. Even after breaking several records last night, I could still feel the hard, warm pulse of his erection nudging my hairy thigh. Insatiable. Who'd have thought that the adorable, clean-cut, butter-won't-melt-in-that-country-boy-mouth Hobson would turn out to be an animal in bed?

It was more than simple lust that had me weaving a future for the both of us. Me, cynical old fool that I was dreaming of a future with a straight man I'd gotten drunk into bed. A man who snored sure enough but after the events of last night, I was too tired to care.

"Jake.." Seeing my adorable mug, he gave me a sweet smile and licked his lips. As he was still half-awake and vulnerable, I took the chance to plant another kiss on his brow, on his cheek, breathing in his scent. Hot male sex. Gary Hobson. Two things that I'd never thought to put together in real life.

But slowly, even as I brushed my lips across his own, I could practically see his brain chug to life, slowly waking to consciousness and the events of last night unfolding patiently in his alcohol soaked brain. His face paled, his mud-puddle green eyes widened and he pulled away. "Oh my God. Jake! You. I. You and I. We-"

His legs rubbed against my naked thigh and he practically squeaked. Letting him get over it, I supported myself on my elbow and stared at him. "Yeah, Hobson? We what?"

"We didn't."

"We did."

"No no no no." Sitting upright on the bed, he clutched his dark head. "Oh no, I can't handle this now. Tell me we didn't."

Not surprised at the way he was acting, I just shook my head. It was just a wonder he didn't leap straight out of the window. "Alright, we didn't."

"My God, we did! We - We-" As startled as he was, he could barely go on with his words. As he started to move farther away on the bed, another realization came to him and his face flushed. "I'm naked."

"That happens when people have sex. They get naked," I explained calmly, even as my lips turned up in a smirk.

His eyes looked at me reproachfully, almost like a wronged virgin and I had to laugh. "Gary, it's not the end of the world. We just had sex."

"I-I don't do this! I don't get drunk and have sex. With a - with a-" Gary mumbled to himself, his gaze searching the room desperately. "Where are my.. my clothes?"

In our hurry last night, we'd deposited our clothes wherever we could, tossing them here and there. My shirt hung from his door and his jeans were thrown over his chair. Finally, I found one of the culprits on my side of the bed. Shaking my head at Gary's behaviour, I picked up his white boxers from the floor and held it up for his inspection. "Looking for this?"

The spectacle of me holding up his boxers must have been too much for the man and his handsome face crumpled. "Oh my God."

"Get dressed, Hobson, and we'll talk."

Deftly catching the underwear tossed at him, Gary held it tight and stared at me. He bit his lip nervously for a moment. "Could you turn around?"

"What? Gary, I've seen everything. And believe me, I was impressed." I admit I enjoyed seeing him like this and that last bit I added just to get that blush back on his cheeks.

"Don't. No jokes. Not now. Please."

Sighing loudly, I made a big show of turning around but not before seeing Gary slide himself out of bed. And peeking at that hard, solid ass. My cock hardened at the sight of it. Oh, sweet Jesus, come to Papa.

Looking suspiciously around his broad shoulder, he caught me drooling again and his face flamed. "Jake!"

Just to get a rise from him, I ran my tongue suggestively over my lower lip. "Yeah, big boy?"

Flustered, embarassed, humiliated beyond belief, he quickly tugged his shorts up. "I-I.. don't look! And shut up!"

His horrified expression only increased my amusement over the whole affair and I broke into a fit of helpless laughter while he glared balefully at me. "Hobson, I don't know what the problem is. Far as I know, we're both two consenting adults and-"

My explanation was never finished as a thump at the door had both of us shutting up. A cat's purr followed it with a faint scratching at the door. As one, our gazes turned slowly to the door and back to each other. The look on his face was comical. Guilt, fear and shock crossed his face and he could barely meet my eyes.

"Aren't you going to answer that?"

"No."

"It's the paper."

"I know what it is."

"Well, go and get it."

"I know and .. I-I will."

Well, beating around the bush this way certainly never got me anywhere. Since meeting him, I figured that going straight to the point worked best on him. "Gary Hobson, someone out there might need your help."

The silence in the room was palpable. As if in slow-motion, he turned to me. This time the only expression on his face was utter shock. His mouth opened and closed for some time and nothing came out. "I - I-"

"Yes. I know about the paper. I know about what you do."

Although he knew he'd been caught, he tried hedging. "What? Yeah, it's no big secret that I work in the bar and I-"

"Gary. You don't lie very well."

His breath caught at his throat and he croaked out. "How?"

It was time for the truth. I figured better he know it now rather than later. Especially since I was hell-bet on continuing this relationship, I figured honesty was the best policy. "Let's make a clean breast of it. Remember me, Jake Evans, the reporter? I've been investigating this story for weeks now, Gary. It wasn't coincidence that I dropped by McGinty's."

"Investigating?" It wasn't that difficult to put two and two together. Gary Hobson certainly did his addition very well. "So you planned all this? Last night?"

When he looked at me, I saw a different side of him. It was the first time I'd seen Gary coldly furious. "Yes. Last night was different though... but let me explain -"

I truly never saw it coming. His first punch caught me unawares and left my cheek throbbing from it. Before I knew it, I was sprawled on the bed with a furious Gary going at me like a wrestling champ. But I was no wimp and I soon had us rolling around trading punches. Although I was going more on the defensive since I couldn't see myself giving Gary a black eye. But he obviously had no such compulsions.

Our rolling around soon had us falling off the bed and onto the floor. I would admit to some vicarious thrill over rolling around naked with Gary barely clothed but I knew I'd had to put an end to this before we hurt ourselves. It was a surprise to find that Hobson was a mean lil fighter but he was definitely no match for someone built bigger and stronger than him.

In seconds, I wrestled the man onto the floor and pinned him to the ground, holding down his struggling fists with mine. His muscles tensed under mine but I managed to overpower him. "Gary. Stop it!"

A string of expletives spewed from his mouth and I had to admit to being impressed. Never knew farmboy could come up with all that. "Nice, farmboy. The folks at Hickory, Indiana taught you that?"

"Jake, you -you lied to me. To us. So friendly, getting to know us when you just wanted a damned story. I should have known." Growling, he bucked under me but I was having none of it. Catching one of his kicking legs with mine, I trapped his legs under my hard thighs.

"That first shot was free, Hobson. But don't try another, wrestling naked with you only makes me hot as hell." For added effect, I pressed down on him and let him feel the length of my erection against his thigh. The effect stunned him especially since I was still pretty much naked.

His face reddened. "What do you want? You want money? I can tell you that I don't have any."

It was something I'd checked up on as soon as I had my suspicions about him. After all with his keen knowledge of the future, he could be making a killing in the markets but the man barely made enough to survive. "I know. I checked up on you. And I am financially well-off, Hobson. What do I need with more money?"

Still searching for a reason, he immediately hit on another. "Fame? Another prize then? Well, this story would be great, wouldn't it? Jake Evans wins another Pulitzer."

"Yeah, you would know all about it a day earlier. You could read it in tomorrow's paper today."

He glared at me.

Sighing, I tried an explanation. "Look, I have enough prizes, I don't need another. Stop struggling, dammit! I am not printing the fucking story."

"What?"

"I'm not writing that story."

He stared at me.

"Listen, Gary, I know what you do. What you do everyday is just.. incredible. I don't think I could sacrifice that much of myself. The paper picked the right man for the job since I know many other people would have just taken it as a chance to pursue their own goals. You're different. You help people. And without any rewards or compensation."

He kept silent.

"Look, I know the good you do and it's better that you do it without the knowledge of the public. I'm not stupid, I have eyes, and I know what the public would do if they found out. So I am not writing the story."

"How can I believe that?"

"It's up to you to believe, Gary."

"Let me go. I'm okay." His eyes had cooled down somewhat so I didn't think it'd be detrimental to my health to release him. His tensed muscles relaxed under my hold and I slowly released him.

The man was sneaky, I had to give him that. As soon as I had pulled him off the floor, he hauled off and gave me another swift thump on my other cheek. Damn. My first instinct was to return the favour and belt him but I stopped when I saw the hurt in those eyes.

After landing that shot, he'd calmed down somewhat and had settled himself onto the edge of the bed. His green eyes were troubled. "So this was all planned, huh?"

"Sneaky bastard. That was twice." Holding my jaw, I gave it a quick jiggle. Ow. But my teeth were still in place. Who'd have thought that Gary had such a great left? Seeing my shorts lying on the opposite corner of the bed, I moved over to get dressed.

"The second was for getting me drunk! And then.. and then.." He couldn't even say it but I could clearly see the mist clouding his eyes.

Since I seemed to be telling him all, I figured there was no use keeping anything from him. "Let's lay all the cards on the table, Hobson. Last night had nothing to do with the story. Last night had everything to do with making love with the man that I love." The stunned look on his face - the deer in headlights look I called it - made me smile. It was as if I'd pimp-slapped a hurtin' puppy.

My admission managed to rob him of his anger. "You're joking."

"I'm not."

"It's a ploy to get a story."

"You don't really believe that."

"You love me?"

"Yes." I could see that he was on the verge of another nervous breakdown and I snickered softly. Puppy-eyes wide open, slack-jawed, blood drained from his face. God, the man was a riot.

It took several moments for him to recover enough to answer me. "You've known me for a week," he told me calmly. "No one falls in love in a week."

"Good point. So?"

"But I'm not .. I'm not.." he stuttered clumsily.

Sitting up in the bed, I decided to finish his thoughts for him. "You're not gay? Let's not use labels. It's simple, Gary. Can you tell me honestly that you didn't enjoy what we did last night?" My pointed question, the very idea of it gave him pause. His handsome face looked so confused and hurt that I wanted to give him another kiss. But then that was always my usual answer and I knew that Gary needed to think things through.

"I-I-.." The familiar blush burned his cheeks and he couldn't meet my eyes. "You know what. I can't handle this right now."

"Yeah."

His face was shadowed and he looked away towards the door. "I-I've got to get the paper."

It was playing with fire but I couldn't resist as usual. Seems like I couldn't resist anything when it came to him. "Can I take a look at it?"

"No!" It was his automatic response and he realized it after saying it. It was a wonder to see his thought processes whirring away in that mind of his. It took a brief moment before he conceded quietly. "Yes. If you really want to."

It was a bigger measure of trust than I expected. And much sooner than I'd hoped. Pleased with the way things were going, I smiled widely. "Don't worry, Gar. I don't need to."

Turning to me now, he raised his heavy brows suspiciously. "You don't? Not even the stock market reports?"

"Tempting but no."

Not satisfied with my answer, he pressed on. "You could make a killing. Buy that beach house. A snazzy car."

Patiently, I walked slowly to the windows and stood looking out. The sun was barely up and the newspaper was already at the door. What a life he must lead, I thought to myself and smiled. "Gar, I already have the beach house. The snazzy car's in the garage. You can take it for a drive if you want."

After my easy reply, Gary took a moment of silence to stare at me, confusion and puzzlement reigning over his pale features. Dragging his hand through his dark hair - and making a pretty impressive bicep, he let out an exasperated sigh. "What do you want from me, Evans?"

Leaning back on the bed and crossing my arms behind my head, I answered quietly. "I think that's simple enough. You."

Mouth gaping, he looked flustered all over again. "I- I.. well, you're not getting me."

"Yeah, farmboy?"

The familiar teasing words failed to make an impression on him in this state. At this moment, I doubted anything short of a sledgehammer would be able to get anything into his brain. He couldn't look at me but gestured blindly at the door. "T-The paper."

There was work to be done. For both of us. So I smiled. "Go ahead, Hobson. Go save the world. I'll be waiting."

Continue to Chapter II