Brad's Bachelor Party (3 page)

And Cole had been too happy to have his friend back to start making waves.

Cole swallowed hard, the
click
loud in his head. “No big deal,” he finally said.

Brad turned his gaze on Cole, and Cole’s mind briefly went blank, short-circuited by the brilliant green eyes. But this was the friend who was getting married in four days. He couldn’t talk about the fight that ended their friendship. It cut too close.

Unfortunately his desperate change of topic wasn’t much better.

“Do you love her?” Cole asked.

Damn…

He hadn’t meant to ask the question.

Brad rolled his eyes. “Jesus, Cole, you’re not my father. We don’t need to have The Talk.”

Cole narrowed his eyes. “The Talk?” he said with a skeptical tone. “I think I’m about a decade too late for explaining the birds and the bees.”

Brad choked on his beer, coughing as he shifted on the couch to face him, the expression on his face two parts amused, one part incredulous, and a hundred parts
how can I be friends with such a geek?

“Dude, not
that
talk,” Brad said. “And people haven’t used the pansy-assed birds-and-bees expression for at least, like, a million years. Besides”—the corner of his eyes crinkled with humor—“you’re about fourteen years too late to explain sex to me.”

“I was your roommate for four years,” Cole said drily. “I have firsthand knowledge of that very fact.”

A wistful smile overtook Brad’s face. “Oh, yeah,” he said. “Susan…”

Cole had accidentally walked in on Brad in bed with his girlfriend du jour several times.

“I was referring to Leslie,” Cole said. “And that time you sneaked Cheryl into our room at four in the morning.”

“Huh.” Brad frowned in concentration as if trying to dredge up the memories. “I don’t remember them.”

Cole remembered every single incident. Just one more sign of how pathetic he’d been during med school.

“That still doesn’t answer my question about Jenny,” Cole said.

There was a brief pause during which Brad’s mouth worked silently, as if he were trying to come up with something to say.

“Look, I know what this is about,” Brad said as he slumped deeper into the couch, clearly uncomfortable. “Jenny’s awesome. She deserves better than me, but I’m gonna do my damnedest to make her happy, okay?”

Continuing to stare at his friend, Cole waited for him to go on.

Brad grew more restless under the scrutiny, propping his ankle across his knee. “I know I haven’t done the relationship thing before. But I’m ready,” he finally continued, his tone defensive. “Besides, I owe her. When I was job hunting, Jenny was the one who convinced me of the company’s potential, despite their financial problems. Turned out she was right.”

Brad always was too quick to downplay his achievements.

“The company was on the verge of bankruptcy when her dad hired you. They were lucky to snag someone with your talents,” Cole said. “And
you
were the one who turned Sterling Security around and put it back on the map.”

With an easy shrug, Brad said, “But Jenny’s dad didn’t have to give me so much leeway.” Cole waited patiently as Brad stared at his beer, twisting the bottle back and forth. “Since she’s his only child, and she has absolutely no interest in being in charge, he’s going to turn Sterling Security over to me when he retires.”

The news drove Cole higher in his seat. “Please tell me you’re not marrying her just for the business.”

Brad shot him a heated look. “
Hell
, no.” He scowled.

Cole couldn’t blame him for the reaction. Brad was the last man to look at the bottom line and use that as a reason to do anything. He was the most unaffected man Cole knew. So what was all of this really about?

“I care about Jenny, and her dad has been good to me,” Brad said. He hesitated, as if realizing how lame his words sounded. “But more than that, it’s just…” He shrugged again. “It’s the right time and the right thing to do.”

Cole hiked a brow, unconvinced.

“Besides, you’re the one who keeps telling me to grow up and act like an adult.” Brad broke into a cocky grin as he raised his beer in Cole’s direction. “So no complaining when I finally do.”

There was no arguing with his logic. Cole had been harassing him for years about his womanizing ways. No one was more loyal than Brad. When he made a commitment, his word was good as gold. Settling down for a real relationship was definitely the mature thing to do.

But Cole wasn’t so dense as to miss that his original question had gone unanswered.

Chapter Three

“Damn it, Brad,” Cole said. “Hold still.”

Shirtless, Brad stood in front of the bathroom mirror of his hotel room as Cole worked on him from behind, cleaning the abrasions on his back. His breath was hot on Brad’s neck, leaving him feeling edgy—and he wasn’t too happy with the goose bumps spreading across his skin either. Brad shifted slightly, seeking a safer distance.

“Quit squirming.” Cole went on in that authoritative voice that drove Brad nuts. “I have to remove the debris from the wound.”

“I can’t help it. The soap you’re using smells terrible.” Fire shot up his back, and he sucked in a breath. “And it fucking stings,” Brad barked.

Thankfully the pain took care of the goose bumps.

“You’re the worst patient ever.” Cole’s mouth twitched, as if he was considering a smile. “And I told you those two weren’t fit to drive.”

“How was I supposed to know Martinez would suddenly look at the golf carts as bumper cars…
shit
.” The burn doubled in intensity as Cole began to work on the second abrasion.

“Now who’s being a pansy ass?” Cole said easily.

“We should have let the air out of their tires,” Brad muttered.

“I thought swiping their keys was just as good.” Cole returned Brad’s gaze in the mirror. And was that a smirk he was trying to restrain? “Serves you right for giving them back.”

Brad sent him a sarcastic
ha-ha
glare. And how had he missed the fact his friend was a heartless SOB?

Brad pressed the wad of gauze tighter against his chest. The jagged cut he’d sustained after being thrown from the golf cart was still bleeding through the dressing. Hoping to regain his equilibrium, he leaned his other hand against the counter, grateful for the cool marble. He was beginning to feel slightly dizzy.

“The laceration on your chest needs suturing.” Cole kept an eye on his task. “When I get done with your back, I’m taking you to the ER.”

“Heck, no.” If Cole thought Brad was irritable now, another stint in hospital hell would make him downright impossible. “I don’t want to spend the next eight hours of my life stuck in a waiting room. Besides, you’re the Boy Scout who won’t leave home without all his equipment. You can do the job.”

“Experience has taught me to always be prepared. Especially with you and Martinez around,” Cole said. “But there’s an ER forty minutes from here, and you at least need to go for the tetanus shot.”

“Got one last year after you cut that fishing hook out of my hand.”

Cole blew out a breath and leaned back, shooting him a frustrated look in the mirror. And Brad friggin’ hated that
I know best
expression. Brad concentrated really hard on scowling back. Which was almost impossible to do when his brain was swirling, leaving him light-headed. Maybe his condition was due to the dose of pain meds Cole had given him. Maybe it was the two beers he’d finished hours ago, or the minimal blood loss from the cut on his chest.

Or, holy Mother of God, maybe it was because his friend was a fucking beautiful man.

The awareness pierced the light fog enveloping his brain, resurrecting the first thoughts that had popped into his mind the day he met his geeky college roommate: gorgeous blue eyes, sexy bed-head hair. Despite Cole’s brainiac attitude and hopeless taste in clothing, his tall frame moved with the grace of a cat.

The surge of interest had been surprising, but Brad had written it off as a brief deviation from the norm.

Okay, so maybe the phrase wasn’t entirely accurate. Because at one point in his life, Brad
had
been bicurious, but that didn’t mean he wanted to play for the home team. He’d experimented briefly in high school, much to his mother’s dismay, and then moved on. By the time he hit college, the matter had been decided to his satisfaction. He preferred women with their full breasts, their curvy hips, and their soft skin. He appreciated the spicy smell of that sweet spot known as cleavage. Besides, life was just easier the straight way.

And if anyone asked, he was totally ignoring the sharp angle of Cole’s hip currently pressed against his back.

Cole gripped Brad’s shoulders and turned him around, leaning him against the counter before removing the bandage from his chest and carefully cleaning the jagged cut. Brad played his part as the wounded one, which consisted of his brilliant ability to grimace and hiss in pain. And occasionally remembering to blink as he stared at his friend like a total moron. Cole up close and personal was a hell of a lot more enticing than a simple reflection in a mirror.

Brad’s eyes caught and held on the frown of concentration on Cole’s mouth.

As Cole pulled out his suturing supplies, Brad studied his lips, captivated by the shape. They were just full enough to catch the eye, but not so full as to appear overly effeminate.

Not that Brad had noticed how soft they looked or anything.

Supplies in hand, Cole absently licked the corner of his mouth, the sight sending a thrilling buzz up Brad’s spine. “I’m out of local anesthetic.”

“I don’t care.” Brad needed this moment to be
over
. “Just do it already.”

Hand splayed across Brad’s chest, Cole held him still as he plunged the needle through his skin. The piercing pain was sharp, and Brad bit his cheek and let out a particularly embarrassing girly hiss, concentrating on the feel of Cole’s breath fanning down his chest. He was achingly aware of every sensation. He felt the dull pull of the edges of his skin, and his muscles eased a fraction when Cole released his chest and used both hands to tie the suture closed. Any and all pain was forgotten when Cole returned his palm to Brad’s rib cage, his hand providing stability during placement of the next suture. Cole’s thumb shifted to less than two centimeters beneath the flat of Brad’s nipple, and his brain briefly went blank. Things would be a hell of a lot simpler if Cole remained still and Brad could just…pretend to relax.

Each time Cole’s hand deserted his chest to tie off a knot, Brad breathed easier.

Each time Cole’s hand returned, his thumb just a little closer to Brad’s nipple, Brad’s throat had a seizure.

He closed his eyes, praying the suturing would end soon. Every nerve ending had shut down, minus the ones now celebrating the tiny movement of Cole’s finger absently stroking his skin. Brad deserved a friggin’ medal, several Oscars, and an Emmy for not arching his back into that touch.

Heat crept through his veins, seeking out every cell and drawing his body tight. Melting his ability to think and loosening his tongue.

“So…” Brad said. “We should probably talk about the fight we had all those years ago, huh?”

Cole paused midsuture and flashed those gorgeous blues at Brad. A crease the size of the San Andreas Fault lined Cole’s brow. Only the thudding of Brad’s heart filled the two-second silence as their gazes clashed, the memory rising up from Brad’s subconscious.

Brad throwing his arm easily around his friend during a moment of amusement.

Cole leaning in to press his mouth against Brad’s.

Brad panicking and pushing his friend away…

With a blink, Brad fought the memory as their breaths mingled between them, and he tried hard not to notice how hot that was.

Cole resumed his task, his gaze dropping to Brad’s chest.

Several minutes slipped painfully by as Cole continued to work in silence. The acute awareness made breathing difficult. Pain pierced Brad with every plunge of Cole’s curved needle, but watching his elegant hands was mesmerizing, those skillful fingers flying through the formation of a knot with the precision of one who’d done this a zillion times.

When it came, Cole’s quiet voice startled Brad out of his daze. “There’s nothing to be gained by rehashing the past.”

As if that was all the discussion needed, Cole tied off the last suture, set his equipment beside the sink, and covered the wound with a fresh dressing.

“There,” he said before coolly meeting Brad’s gaze again. “I’m done. You need to—”

If Brad lived another hundred years, he’d never be able to explain what prompted his next move. Confusing memories? Insanity? Lust? One minute he’d been watching Cole’s mouth, hypnotized by the play of lips and teeth and tongue as he spoke, and the next, eyes wide, Cole was touching the spot where Brad’s mouth had briefly captured Cole’s upper lip between his, leaving it flushed red.

“What the hell was that?” Cole said.

Brad simply stared at the damp spot he’d left behind, because he had absolutely no answer. At least none that made any sense. So he reverted to his old standby, action over words.

Act now, think later.

He leaned in and covered Cole’s mouth with his, letting the pleasure settle over him. Around him. Working between the cracks of his every cell. Though Cole’s lips were soft, softer than Brad had imagined, his friend didn’t move. Frustrated, Brad cupped his jaw and tilted his head, searching for a more satisfying alignment. Better contact. A better response.

Mind spinning, he took note of the surprising give of Cole’s mouth, the prickly stubble of five-o’clock shadow, the warmth beneath his hand. Driven by the need for more sensory input—more skin, more heat, more
everything
—Brad shifted closer and tasted Cole’s lower lip with his tongue. Though still frozen, Cole inhaled sharply, the rush of air cool against Brad’s cheek.

Then several things happened at once. Brad nipped the lower lip, arched his hips against Cole’s…and Brad’s groan of pleasure was drowned out by Cole’s curse.