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“Roan rested his forehead against his and put a hand on his chest. Sweet man, one he didn’t deserve. “I’m sorry.” “For what?” “The insanity that is my life. Me.” “Hey, I signed up for this ride. I knew from past experience that sexy men were always trouble, and it wasn’t like your reputation didn’t precede you. I have no one to blame but myself.” “You think I’m sexy?” “Don’t fish for compliments.”

“A spa?" "Yeah, Avalon Spa, you know the place near the mall?" "Oh, right. What do you do there?" Again, the nervous glance at the floor, and the small flush of color rising up his neck. "I'm a masseur. Which I know sounds phony as hell, but I'm licensed and everything. Also, my clients are women- the only men at Avalon are the ones on staff. And while I've got nothing against women at all- I'd have no friends in high school if it weren't for women- I find them as sexually attractive as roadkill possum." Roan had to swallow back a laugh. "Don't tell them that." "Oh, God no! I'd never get any tips then.”

“Yeah, that would be awesome. Me loaded and trying very hard not to make a scene, while the guy who had one gay slip with me and his wife are not five feet away, also trying not to be awkward. That’ll be so much fun. I just might hang myself with a rope made of braided napkins.” “Aww. Nice touch with the braid. Very gay,” Dylan told him, patting him on the back. Roan looked at him with a frown. “No one likes a sarcastic bastard, Dyl.” “Well, I do.” He paused briefly. “Obviously.” Ouch.”

“Paris came down the stairs looking incredible. He‘d gone with the simple classic look of the tight white T-shirt, the low-slung jeans that showed off a glimpse of his flat belly, and a black leather jacket. His hair was perfectly mussed, a calculated look that seemed natural and sexy. At the bottom of the staircase, he turned around slowly, holding his arms out to his sides. "Well, how do I look?" Damn. "Like I want to rip your clothes off right this second. You‘re gonna kill that kid. He‘s going to explode, and they‘re going to have to scrape his remains off the wall." "Yeesh, I was with you until you got descriptive." "Can‘t help it. You make me poetic." "I thought I made you horny." "Same damn thing.”