Proven Guilty Boys in Blue 05 - (3 page)

Five hours later, James sat sullenly at his desk. Greg plopped down in the chair across from him at his own desk.
“You look fantastic,” Greg informed him sarcastically.
“Fuck you.”
“Fuck you, first. What happened?”
James pushed the rough sketch he’d drawn across his desk and onto Greg’s. Greg took it.
“Yeah? What about it?” Greg asked.
“The shoes. She took her shoes off and still let someone in the back door of the diner,” James reminded him.
“She knew him,” Greg said, following his line of thought. “We figured she did.”
“No, man, she
knew
him. Not a familiar delivery guy, or someone she worked with. She’d have put her shoes back on for that. She
knew
the killer, personally.”
Greg nodded. “It’s weak.”
“But it’s something.”
Greg stood. “You want coffee? I’m going to get some coffee.”
“Thanks, yeah. Coffee sounds good,” James agreed. He pinched the bridge of his nose wishing the sensation of grit would go away. “I can’t sleep lately.”
“The new room-mate?”
James didn’t know what to say, so he shrugged. “Maybe. I dunno.”
Greg walked away. James watched him, wondering why he wasn’t attracted to his partner. He glanced around the floor of cops and detectives. None of them did it for him. Why had Powell? Why was Shawn?
His eyes seemed to catch on the slimmer men. He looked longer at them, found himself not just checking their faces, but letting his gaze sweep over their shoulders and backs to their hips.
James closed his eyes and groaned at the cold realisation taking hold. He wasn’t attracted to Greg, because Greg wasn’t his type. Apparently, Shawn was. It was a little late to be getting a clue, he admonished himself. But then again, maybe he found slimmer men attractive because their bodies were more closely comparable to a woman’s.
With renewed hope he found the few women in the office and looked at them. One was particularly pretty and she laughed a lot. He liked that about her. He tipped his head, trying to feel interest stir for her. She was a good cop. Very good. Her arrests were clean and she didn’t piss people off, he recounted to himself, feeling an inkling of respect, but no attraction.
“C’mon,” he snarled under his breath in frustration. “I’ve dated lots of women. Tons. Women love me.”
“Sure they do, sport,” Greg answered, putting the Styrofoam cup on James’ desk. His partner looked at him funny. “If you want to ask her out, go do it. You don’t need a peptalk.”
God, he thought I was working myself up to ask for a date
? Suddenly, James smiled. “Let’s find out, shall we?”
Greg chuckled. “Good luck.”
James crossed the floor, catching up to Jenny as she passed the water fountain just off the main floor. “Jenny.”
She smiled warmly. “Hi, Jimmy, what’s up?”
He hated that nickname, but he forced a smile anyway. “Have dinner with me.”
“Are you asking me out?”
“Only if you aren’t offended.”
She smiled up at him. She flipped her hair over her shoulder and all he could think was, it should have been tied up. The badge had regulation codes and she was out of it. Her smile looked a little funny, until he realised she was flirting.
“When do you want me?” she asked.
James shrugged. He supposed Friday night would be best because he couldn’t avoid Shawn all weekend. He could start the weekend off right, though. Let Shawn know James was into girls in case the guy wondered about him. Because Lord knew James had been acting strangely and his room-mate was bound to start asking questions.
“Friday,” he blurted. Yeah, Friday night date with a hot chick would definitely discourage any suspicions of James being light in the loafers if Shawn thought to question it.
“Friday it is.”
She plucked a pen from her uniform breast pocket. Then, taking his hand, she spun into his body so that her ass pushed his groin and his arm half circled her as she wrote. She tipped her head to the side, giving him a clear view over her shoulder at the swell of her breasts beneath the uniform blue.
Which meant she wasn’t wearing her vest yet, or they’d be smashed. He frowned in annoyance, but let her finish writing a phone number and address on his hand. He tried not to be pissed that she marked him up in a way more reminiscent of a junior high than two adults exchanging information.
“You could’ve emailed me,” he told her when she finished.
Jenny looked up at him over her shoulder. “Are you kidding? What if it had spammed? I’m not letting you off the hook that easily.”
Hook? What hook? “Department emails don’t spam.”
She pouted and stepped away from him. “Relax, Jimmy. I like you. I promise we’re going to have a great time Friday night.”
It sounded like a promise with several meanings. James smiled. He needed a determined woman to get his dick in line. It was just what he needed, he decided. And Shawn would see the whole thing because he was going to bring her back to his place and introduce them. He’d invite her for coffee and some of Shawn’s apple pie. Then he’d see if she was interested in going upstairs or just making out in the living room before he took her home.
Either way, he had a plan and Jenny was his ticket to sanity.

Shawn couldn’t figure James out. He’d expected indifference from the man, given the odd meeting, but he hadn’t expected something akin to a hermit. He’d tried to break the ice several times. Leaving desserts and coffee out seemed to bring him out of his room from time to time, but it always seemed to be when Shawn was in the basement doing laundry, working out or asleep.

Wednesday night and Shawn had lived there almost a week. His stuff would arrive Saturday and he could finally get off the damn couch. His neck hurt from trying to stretch out on a sofa not made for someone of his stature. And his sleeping bag kept sliding off the leather surface, leaving him cold at best and stuck to the cushions at worst. Or on the floor.

He was tempted to roll out the bag in his empty bedroom. He hadn’t because he wanted to get along with James. If ever there was a reason to share space, it was because Shawn didn’t have a space to retreat to. So this week, he’d suck it up and try harder. How would he make the entire police department trust him if his room-mate wouldn’t?

He glanced at the clock. He had another couple of hours before James would come home. Shawn had accepted his boss’s offer to let him go leave to continue getting settled. He hadn’t bothered to explain that his stuff wasn’t there to settle into. He supposed laundry was
stuff
. It was an opportunity to be there when James got there. That was all that mattered.

Shawn scooped up his dirty laundry and went downstairs. He threw it into the washing machine with a liberal scoop of detergent. Then, seeing how empty it still was, he took off his clothes and threw them in too. Satisfied, he shut the lid and collected the suit pants he’d take to the dry cleaner later. He still had two hanging in the closet that would do until he got this one and the other three back.

He slipped on the underwear and basketball shorts he’d brought down, and tied the laces on his running shoes. He set the treadmill at an incline and bumped up the speed to a near sprint. He wanted to get in as much of a workout as he could before he had to transfer the laundry. Earbuds in place, Shawn eased into a comfortable pace.

The pound of his feet and grind of the belt beneath them lulled him into peacefulness. The first sense of peace he’d had since the upheaval of the move from New York to Minnesota. Within a matter of two weeks, he’d packed everything into boxes, arranged the move, hopped onto a plane and found a home. Albeit with a surly room-mate forged in the fire of the gods who made him think naughty thoughts every two seconds, but a room-mate all the same.

He’d been torn between laughing and groaning when he’d realised how hard living with James was going to be. It was a sick kind of torture to have the hots for a man you couldn’t have. His libido didn’t seem to have any qualms, unfortunately. Since Shawn’s brother had found the place—and it was a fantastic town home—Shawn supposed he could place the blame on him. His brother knew Shawn liked big guys. He’d also known enough to warn Shawn that James was straight.

Geez. It was fucked up. There was a blessing in their odd schedules, but it also seemed contrived. Like James didn’t want to be around Shawn. Not that he expected to be best buds with the silent cop, but a little camaraderie would have been accepted.

Shawn shook his head, rubbed his wrist across his brow to wipe off the sweat, then pushed the speed higher. Working off steam would be the only way to keep from doing or saying something stupid, like, ‘Hey, roomie. How about we do some naked Tango?’

He laughed to himself, rasping through it as the push to keep pace became more challenging at this speed. The washer finally buzzed and Shawn slowed to a stop. Breathing heavily as he switched the laundry over. He turned it on, then decided to do a few inclined abdominal repetitions before he cleaned up.

By the time he got through the set, the dryer only had another half hour to go and Shawn jogged up the stairs of the basement, then up again to the second floor. Collecting his clothes, he laid them on the countertop in the bathroom and cranked on the shower. His stripped clothes went down the laundry chute and Shawn sighed happily as hot water massaged his tight shoulders and pleasantly sore muscles.

Shawn bowed his head, letting it work the back of his neck as he blindly picked up the soap and began to lather.
His thoughts automatically turned to James. They always seemed to go there when Shawn hit the shower. Pavlov’s dog couldn’t have been better trained to salivate than Shawn as he got hard thinking of his room-mate when he was naked in the shower. He hadn’t seen him without every piece of clothing in place yet, but he was bound to.
His cock hardened and Shawn took it, letting his soapy hand slide lazily up and down. He imagined James touching him and instantly, slow wasn’t going to cut it. He braced a hand on the clear shower enclosure, braced his legs apart as he jerked harder. The more he tugged, the more he saw James’ glower in his mind’s eye. It turned him on and made him want to defy that cutting glance.
Shawn’s balls tingled expectantly, drawing up as the pressure built. He heard a noise, like a scuffle or a murmur, and Shawn’s head shot up. His eyes met James’ in the crack of James’ bedroom door left ajar. His room-mate stared at Shawn’s cock.
Shawn shouted, too far gone to control himself, as cum splattered forcefully on the inside of the glass. James turned away abruptly, leaving him to wonder if he’d really seen the man or if it had been a figment of his overactive imagination.
He hurried to clean up and wash down the glass. Yanking on his clothes, Shawn stepped out of the bathroom. He braced himself for the worst, hands shaking, but realising too that jacking off in the shower wasn’t strange in itself. If only James knew the subject of that orgasm.
A sick feeling of dread washed over him. Had he said James’ name out loud? Because he was now fairly certain that James in the doorway had actually been James in the doorway and not an extension of his lust.
“James?” Shawn called from his bedroom.
“Down here,” James answered, his voice coming from the kitchen.
Shawn quashed his nerves and went to find him. He ran a hand through his wet hair. “Uh, hey. You got home early?”
James glanced at him, one brow raised and a smirk on his fine lips.
“I guess that’s obvious,” Shawn answered for himself.
James continued to move around the kitchen as he started a coffee pot. He took down two mugs. The silence was killing Shawn.
“So, uh—about the shower,” Shawn said, clearing his throat.
“I don’t want to know. Just clean up after target practice. That’s all I care about.”
“Of course. I wouldn’t leave that…” he trailed off. His face heated and he shrugged instead of finishing the thought.
“Slipperier than a banana peel, buddy.”
“It’s clean,” Shawn hurried to say. “I promise. I cleaned.”
“And maybe next time shut the door to my room.”
“Yeah, I just didn’t think you’d be home. I got in a workout and did some laundry. I thought I’d shower and run back down to fold.”
“Hey.” James stopped him. “I don’t need a dissertation. Your happy hand is between you and, well”—he tipped his head at Shawn’s crotch—“
him
.”
That little look was enough to set Shawn’s balls to tingling. He walked to the kitchen island to obstruct any evidence of the arousal that was already resurfacing.
“I’ll shut the door next time,” Shawn promised. The dryer buzzer went off. Shawn escaped to the basement.

James flipped his grilled cheese sandwich. Damn. He’d burned it. Again. Instead of throwing this one away like the last one he’d spaced out making, he would fucking eat it.
James had spent Wednesday night as wakeful as the following one. Now James was a jittery mess of stress and lack of sleep. Which was why he’d avoided Shawn. And every time he thought he should break the fucking ice, his mind went to Shawn in the shower.
He didn’t know what to do with that information. It made him grouchy, uncomfortable in his own skin, hot and anxious while setting every instinct in his body into flight mode. He wanted to get away, but he lived there. He wanted to run, but the memory of Shawn’s naked body, his hand working his dick as cum sprayed the glass, followed him. What was worse was he hadn’t been able to get a good look at the man’s cock for all the steam and the rapid jacking of his hand.
And he’d wanted to.
James scrubbed his hand over his face. Fatigue plagued him. Closing his eyes just repeated the same images he saw when he let his mind wander. What if he’d pulled the sleeping bag edge down that first night? Would he have seen it? If he had touched him, would Shawn have made the same sound in his sleep that he’d made in the shower? That soul-gutting, uncontrolled pleasure?
He needed the date with Jenny tonight, to get his head on straight. Jenny would fix whatever was wrong. He’d fuck her if she wanted. He’d go down on her, if he could just wipe naked-Shawn from his mind permanently. He made James think too much about stuff he’d already decided against.
He
wasn’t
gay, dammit. Guys thought other guys were hot all the time. He couldn’t be so different from other men, could he? He’d known several friends who’d joked about experimenting in college. James hadn’t, but he’d spent an inordinate amount of time fucking women from behind, stretching their asses and—dear God, imagining they weren’t women.
His face heated as he admitted the truth to himself for the first time.
But that’s
normal, he insisted to himself.
I’m not gay. I’m
normal.
Angrily, he bit into his sandwich. He’d pick Jenny up at seven, but he’d forgotten to eat and his stomach had protested loudly for the first time all day. And eating a grilled cheese had nothing to do with showers, naked men, flirting female cops and jizz-covered shower glass.
“Hey,” Shawn greeted.
James startled. He hadn’t heard the front door open. “Hi.” James choked down a bite of sandwich that suddenly felt too dry.
Unfortunately, neither one of them had work tomorrow morning. Unless James invented something. Maybe he could find a Catholic church and confess, let the priest toss holy water on him and pray the gay away—if he were actually saying that were the problem. He’d heard of that working before. He didn’t
want
to be gay. If anyone ever asked him if he thought he might be, he’d put a fist in their diaphragm and make them reconsider the accusation.
But he couldn’t very well punch himself, now could he?
But I’m not gay, dammit
!
James stood abruptly. “I’m going on a date. I need to get ready and leave. I might even bring her back here to fuck her brains out all night.” He shrugged. “Or maybe I’ll go to her place tonight.” He dashed up the stairs.
“What about your sandwich?” he heard Shawn ask behind him.
“I’ll get it later.” James slammed his bedroom door.