Hidden Passions (2 page)

Freed from Jonah and Liam's distraction, Chris finished packing up quickly. One good shove got the cart's wheels rolling. He was glad Rivera's building had an elevator. Getting this stuff back to his apartment would have been a bear otherwise.

~

Tony Lupone liked to tease his friend and fellow pack member Nate that he should have been the gay one. Nate's slick warehouse conversion loft resembled a spread in a magazine: huge, airy, and almost laughably stylish. It was also laughably neat--at least to someone with Tony's casual outlook on housekeeping.

They were shifters, for goodness sake. A germ or two wouldn't lay them out.

Despite not understanding why it mattered if your guests could eat off the floor, Tony
was
Nate's friend. Before the newly engaged couple took off with the cubs to conk out at Evina's house, Nate had entrusted Tony with ensuring the party wrapped up safely. Tony had organized rides for over-imbibers, supplied the volunteer cleaners with trash bags, and thanked everyone he got a chance to for coming.

This last was more of an ordeal than Nate or probably anyone realized. Tony was the lowest ranking member of his pack. He didn't mind the position and liked to think he had social skills, but the energy of his wolf--a vibe all shifters were sensitive to--didn't automatically command respect. Though charm and humor were good defenses, they couldn't smooth every bump.

They certainly couldn't smooth every bump with macho ass-hats who weren't used to him being out. His pack had grown accustomed to it, or at least weren't shocked anymore. A couple of those stupid cats had actually jerked away when he'd slapped their shoulders, like being gay might be contagious.

Tony snickered to himself as he loaded dirty pots semi-neatly into the second of Nate's two fancy dishwashers. If only gayness
were
contagious. He'd have had fun with a couple of tonight's guests if they'd contracted his "condition."

He undercut his own humor with a sigh. He'd admit to being a teensy bit impulsive. While he'd kept his sexual nature secret for what felt like forever, he couldn't swear he'd totally thought through what being out would be like. Social creature that he was, the aloneness wore on him. He might occasionally have been a short-tempered ass-hat himself when he was in the closet, but at least he'd
belonged
. He'd had no trouble charming women or knowing how to act in a bar. Most shifters could get it up regardless. Their beast halves weren't that damn choosy. That his human half wasn't having fun with his lovers Tony had managed to conceal. Now he barely knew which bars to patronize, much less how to go about hooking up.

He couldn't explain why, but who he hooked up with felt more important now.

Grimacing, he wedged one final pan into the dishwasher. He hadn't had a date in ages, or even a decent flirt. Coming out was uncomfortably like regaining his virginity.

"Stupid," he said aloud and then, "Okay, Nate, where do you keep your spell packs?"

Doing his best to shove his bad mood aside, he began opening drawers and cabinets. The Brownie Hygienics wouldn't work right without their magic soap and, friend or not, Tony wasn't about to scrub that mountain of pots by hand. The drawer to his left held silver, the one to his right a custom-fitted selection of spice bottles. Nate liked to cook, though he'd been banned from doing so tonight, the celebration having been in his honor. He'd closed an important case, somewhat in spite of the rest of the squad, and Adam--their alpha--had come up with the plan for the party as a peace offering. Tony's parents and two of the hulking tigers had supplied the necessary culinary manpower, dirtying every conceivable utensil in the process.

"Damn," Tony said, because he'd slammed a drawer shut and caught his finger. As he stuck it reflexively in his mouth, he realized he was embarrassingly close to tears.

Tony refused to be that big of a pussy. He was only upset because Nate was so happy. The wolf totally deserved to fall in love--and to be loved back by someone as kickass as Evina. Nate was a great guy. Of all the pack, he'd accepted Tony's big announcement the easiest. He'd openly said he liked Tony better now that he was being his real self. He didn't freak when Tony pretended to flirt with him, and he never pulled away. He was still Tony's friend, just like he'd been before.

When Evina agreed to marry him, Nate's aura had lit up like sunrise.

"Fuck," Tony said, the moisture in his eyes having spilled traitorously out.

He
didn't
have a crush on Nate. He wasn't that stupid. He wanted what Nate had: to find someone who was right for him.

Barring that, a sweaty wild one-night stand wouldn't be terrible.

He smiled, straightening with a jerk a moment later. Like all wolves, he had sharp hearing. The freight elevator had just clanked open. The rumble of wheels on concrete warned him someone was approaching. Tony hadn't locked Nate's door. Their pack strolled in and out of each other's houses too often to bother. Hinges creaked as the heavy entrance swung open.

"Hello," a male voice called. "I'm returning the undrunk booze."

Shit
, Tony thought. He recognized who it was: the hot-as-hell tiger bartender.

His heart started beating faster, which he really would have preferred it not do. Cats had shifter hearing too. The last thing he needed was one of those stupid felines realizing he had the hots for him.

"Come on in," he said, blowing out a breath as he tried to think calming thoughts. "I'm cleaning up the kitchen."

He was almost braced by the time the cat pushed the loaded handcart into the wide-open living space. He guessed cats
were
snoopy. The gorgeous fireman looked around curiously, his muscle-packed shoulders as broad as a barn door.

"Wow," he said, turning toward the warehouse's tall front windows. "This place is amazing."

The tiger's rear view was amazing--his back, his ass, his strong mile-long legs. Tony was a big guy himself, but this man was a damned giant. He noticed the tiger's jeans were faded in all the right places. Not needing any more inspiration, Tony wrenched his eyes from them.

"Nate has great taste," he said, the words as level as he could make them.

The tiger turned. His expression was as unreadable as an actual cat's. "It's Tony, right?"

"Yes," Tony said. Normally, he was chatty. He ordered himself not to be right then.

The tiger nodded. He didn't introduce himself, though Tony was aware his name was Chris. He'd heard the tiger's coworkers call him that. Tony hadn't precisely been trying to scope him out, but he also knew Chris was Evina's beta and mixed a mean mango martini. He'd smiled a lot at the party--not a loudmouth but easygoing. Someone had mentioned he'd been hospitalized with third-degree burns not too long ago. No trace of them remained . . . or of his earlier good humor. Tony suspected the reason Chris looked so serious now was him.

God forbid a straight guy gave the infamous gay wolf the wrong idea.

Right then, Tony resented his new reality more than he could express.

"You know where I should stash these bottles?" Chris asked.

"I'll take care of them," Tony said, suddenly wanting him out of there. "I know where Nate keeps things."

Chris glanced down at the boxes and rubbed his jaw. When his gaze returned to Tony, it very carefully said nothing. "Your pack left you to clean up by yourself?"

"I'm gay," Tony snapped. "Not infirm."

His own words made his face go hot. To his amazement, they made the tiger smile. "I didn't mean that. I just don't think it's right for me to dump this job on you if everyone else did too."

"Oh," Tony said. "Sorry, I--"

"Forget it," the tiger said easily, apparently unfazed by his snippiness. "You must have had people assume stupid things about you a time or two."

"Yeah," Tony said, relieved he hadn't inadvertently offended someone who was bound to have an impact on Nate's new life. "Nate's storeroom is over there. If you stack the boxes inside, that'll be fine."

"I'll unpack them," the tiger said. "I'm Chris, by the way."

"Tony," he responded automatically, forgetting Chris had said he already knew. "Tony Lupone."

Shutting up, he tried not to blush furiously.

The tiger's mouth curved again. It was a nice expression, hinting at mischief and wry humor--like he'd get any joke anyone told him. Somewhat to Tony's horror, the smile caused his dick to swell.

"I'll get started," Chris said, picking up the first box.

Tony watched him all the way to Nate's storeroom, remembering too late that this was a bad idea. His mouth was dry when he finally looked away, his cock so hard it probably was getting tooth marks from his zipper. Tony wanted to adjust the thing but feared drawing attention. He was lucky Nate's very open kitchen had a big island to hide behind.

The tiger returned for another crate and then disappeared again. From the sound of it, he was filling Nate's wine shelves efficiently. "I heard you organized the work on the roof," he commented from inside.

Tony's mental gears weren't turning over smoothly. "Work?"

"You got a bunch of cops to spend their time off installing the plantings and whatnot."

Whatnot?
Evina's big tough second said
whatnot
? Tony shook himself more alert. "My alpha put out the call for volunteers. I just oversaw who turned up."

Chris emerged from the storage room, his smile mischievous again. "I heard you rode herd on them pretty hard."

"Well, Nate
is
particular," Tony said. "He'd have minded if they did a crap job."

The tiger braced straight-armed on the opposite side of the island's black marble top. "You surprised them," he said conversationally. "They didn't expect the low man on your pack's ladder to be so assertive."

"They told you that?"

Chris shrugged his massive shoulders and cracked a grin. "People tell bartenders all sorts of things. To be honest, I wish our omega had your confidence. Shifters tend to rely on bluster when they feel insecure. That's not safe when you're doing a dangerous job."

Tony had a hard time believing Chris's low man really was insecure. The beta's energy was too reassuring for that to be likely.

"Our alpha is no bully," he said aloud. "And my big brother has my back if I need it."

He usually had his back at least. Tony coming out had been an adjustment.

"Rick," Chris said, naming him with no trouble.

Tony's brow furrowed over him knowing that. Then the light bulb flashed. "You're diplomatting me."

Chris lifted one eyebrow. "Diplomatting you?"

"My pack and your clan will be thrown together once Nate marries Evina. You want to make sure we get along. That's why you're being friendly."

"Wouldn't I befriend your alpha if that's what I was up to?"

"I'm the baby," Tony said triumphantly. "You couldn't choose a more endearing route to my alpha's heart than being nice to me. Plus, I'm an easy target."

Chris snorted out a laugh. "An
easy
target. Why do I doubt that?"

"Because you're flattering me."

Still smiling, Chris shook his head. His gaze came to rest steadily on Tony's. His irises were an unusual color, closer to tigerish orange than plain brown. God, he was good-looking, his strong, sculpted features reminding Tony of an antique hero out of Greek myth. Chris looked like he'd grab a bow and aim at a God . . . or maybe seduce one. Lust shocked in fresh waves through his already heated body. Possibly the reaction showed. Chris's face went serious.

"I'm not flattering you," he said.

His voice was a fraction deeper than before, almost as if he were turned on too.

No way
, Tony thought. True, his gaydar wasn't perfect; he hadn't had sufficient opportunities to calibrate its dial. This guy, though, read totally straight to him.

"So, uh," Tony said, "if you were a spell pack, where would you be?"

"A spell pack?"

"For the dishwashers. They won't work right without their special soap."

"Ah," Chris responded like the weird moment hadn't happened. "Hold on. I think I saw some in the store room next to the silver polish."

He went to get them, leaving Tony a little sweaty and a lot off balance. Chris came back with the desired items.

"These?" He held them out to Tony. He was on the same side of the island now. He smelled good, like a hot grassy savannah.

"Thanks," Tony said, accepting them.

His throat was scratchy, his answer rough.
Do not blush again
, he ordered. With a minimum of fumbling, probably due more to luck than self-control, he pushed the enchanted soap packs into the proper slots. When he pushed the ON buttons, both Brownie Hygienics purred.

Given how hard his heart was thumping, he doubted the dishwashers' action could mask the sound. Chris still stood beside him, tiger tall, shifter warm, radiating the sweet wild scent that prevented Tony's rigid cock from relaxing. He couldn't force himself to look at the cat. His cock was a fricking flagpole, aching for things Tony--despite being out--hadn't managed to give it yet. If the man beside him looked down . . . if he even moved an inch closer . . .

"Tony," Chris said, as serious as an undertaker. "Are you discreet?"

"Discreet?"

"Do you feel compelled to blab everything you know, or can you keep . . . sensitive information to yourself?"

Tony knew what
discreet
meant. He simply didn't understand why the cat was asking. Reluctantly, he turned his head to his companion.

Chris's eyes had brightened, lemon glints flaring in the orange.

"Why?" Tony asked.

Chris's gaze searched his. Tony realized the other man's breathing had altered. It was shallower now, quicker, and totally sexified.

"Answer the question first," he said.

"I'm a cop," Tony said. "Knowing when to play my cards close to the vest comes with the job."

Chris stared a heartbeat longer. Tony's whole body tingled at what he thought he saw in his face. Maybe getting stuck on cleanup duty was a blessing in disguise.