Book 12 in the Calendar Men series
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Santa isn’t the only one coming to town…
Chris wasn’t a part of the calendar shoot—his brother, Albert, was. When Chris attends the release party for the charity calendar, he isn’t expecting anything but a night of boredom.
Which is what he gets.
It isn’t until the following week when he has a client who turns out to be the sexy Dane Dillon—Mr. December—that Chris’ world gets turned upside down.
General Release Date: 4th December 2018
Chris Washington watched the stage long enough to see his brother, Albert, and Albert’s fiancé, Gregg, get their round of applause for participating in the charity fundraiser. Though it was for a fabulous cause, with all the proceeds from the calendar sales going to fight childhood cancer, the whole making of the calendar had been one disaster after another. Chris was glad it was finished. His brother and Gregg were no longer in danger of whatever curse seemed to plague the calendar shoot.
Not that Chris believed in curses, exactly. He was a tad superstitious, just like most people, but it’d take some serious torture to get him to admit that out loud. He had his pride, after all.
The final calendar man loped up the steps to the stage. He was wearing a red, silky-looking shirt with a white collar and a Santa hat. Mmmm, Mr. December, AKA Dane Dillon. He’s probably the only man capable of making Santa sexy. Chris had ogled Dane’s photo in the calendar enough to be familiar with the deep-set dimples in his cheeks when he smiled, the perfect white rows of his teeth and the way his baby-blue eyes sparkled as if he knew some secret joke and was on the verge of sharing it.
Well, Chris had thought that last part was a trick, done by some digital photo editing software, but it was nice—and a tad arousing—to see that the sparkle was all Dane’s.
“He’s hot as fuck,” someone behind Chris said. “I’ve got some bells he could jingle.”
“Totally. I want him to unwrap my package,” another person chimed in.
Chris wrinkled his nose and just managed not to glare over his shoulder at the doofuses with the lame lines as they continued with the bad banter. He wasn’t a smooth dude himself when it came to flirting, but he had more sense than to babble ridiculous stuff like those two were doing.
Then again, it had been a while since he’d had sex with anyone other than himself. He and his hands were best buddies, and sometimes their good friend Mr. Vibes joined them for some fun.
Okay, I’m lame myself. Chris applauded with everyone else when all the calendar men took a bow. He was so proud of his brother. Albert’s confidence had grown during the time he’d been with Gregg. That was because Gregg was good for him, and Albert was the center of Gregg’s world—and vice versa. It made Chris’ cynical little heart beat with happiness every time he thought of his brother finding true love.
Albert looked at him and waved. Chris waved back, his desire to go home smothered out by Albert’s happiness. It wouldn’t hurt to hang around a little longer. Chris had almost bolted after walking into an empty room off the event hall’s north side…only to discover the room wasn’t so empty after all. There’d been three people in the midst of some kind of sexual shenanigans. Chris had gotten a glimpse of two dark-headed men and one blond before he’d fled in a state of mortification and curiosity. That would teach him to try to escape from a crowded room in a fit of unsociability.
He shouldn’t be in a hurry to leave anyway. There was nothing waiting at home for Chris but a ball of yarn, some catnip toys and the new scratching post he’d bought himself earlier that day. Still, those things could wait for an hour or two. He’d shift and let his cat out to play later.
Albert and Gregg said something to Mr. December that made him laugh. Chris’ stomach went fizzy inside, like he’d chugged a bottle of ginger ale. He frowned and wondered if he was catching some kind of bug. It wasn’t often that he got sick. Whether that was due to him being a cat shifter or just having a fabulous immune system, Chris couldn’t have said. Still, there was always the possibility that he’d caught some kind of cooties that could infiltrate his system.
Chris imagined his immune system as a magnificent army, and he used that visual any time he thought he might be getting ill. He believed in the power of his brain over such things. His mighty army slaughtered the invading masses, and he was healthier than most people he knew.
He’d have let that imagery play out then if he hadn’t been at the calendar release party. As it was, he silently encouraged his army to get to work then focused on Albert and Gregg, who were headed his way.
With Dane Dillon behind them.
“Oh, oh my God! He’s coming this way!” said one of the guys with the lame lines. “Maybe he saw me!”
Chris pursed his lips. What do I know? Maybe Dane is coming to meet him. If that was the case, then Chris hoped Dane and Mr. Lame-Lines had a good time together.
It wasn’t like Chris would be jealous.
Dane smiled, and Chris would have sworn Dane was looking at him.
“He smiled at me! Oh my God!” screeched the man who was, in Chris’ opinion, way too hyper.
Chris stood and started to take a step toward Albert when he was elbowed and pushed aside. Two guys rushed past him as Chris stumbled. He smacked against an older man, causing him to spill his drink all over Chris’ chest.
“I’m so sorry,” Chris said, the scent of whiskey making his nose burn. “Can I get you another drink?” He was mortified to have made a scene, though if he had any luck at all, not many people had seen it.
The man whose drink had sloshed on Chris frowned. “Are you drunk?”
“He was pushed,” Albert snapped, his voice loud and higher-pitched than usual, which meant he was pissed off. “By two guys.”
“I see. Well, then, yes, I’d like another drink.”
Chris took the man’s glass.
Albert snatched it away from him. “I’ll get it. What were you drinking?”
“Are you all right?” Gregg asked, distracting Chris from Albert and the booze refill. “I thought you were going to go ass over teakettle there for a second.”
“Me too.” Chris grimaced as he looked down at his wet shirt. He’d decided to step outside of his neutral-color comfort zone of browns and grays and had worn a dark purple button-up. “So much for dressing up. I smell like a distillery.”
“There’s something to be said for fine whiskey.”
Chris turned and found himself less than arm’s reach from Dane Dillon’s chest. And the rest of Dane, once Chris tipped his head back a little bit so he could look the man in the eyes.
“Yeah?” Chris cringed inwardly. He wasn’t going to win any awards for being suave.
Dane nodded, and his smile stretched wide, making his dimples sink deeper. “Yeah. I do love a good whiskey and a fine man.”
Chris plucked at the collar of his shirt. “Want me to wring this out for you? I’m sure we can get a bowl or something.”
Dane laughed, and the rich, warm sound of his amusement made Chris tingle all over…although more so in one part of his body than anywhere else. His dick began to harden, and he folded his hands together over his groin, hoping he didn’t draw attention to his burgeoning problem.
“I think Dane would rather have his whiskey in a glass,” Gregg said, one dark eyebrow cocked up.
Dane winked at Chris. “Oh, I don’t know. I might not be opposed to—”
“Hmm, Mr. December, can I have your autograph?”
Chris recognized that voice. It belonged to one of the jerks who’d shoved him. He started to say as much but Gregg took him by the elbow. “Come on, you can’t be comfortable in a wet shirt. Dane, see you later.”
“Wait—” Dane began, only to get cut off by his admirer asking about his experience on the calendar shoot.
Chris let Gregg lead him away but stopped him before they reached the men’s room. Chris wiggled his arm and Gregg let him go. “I need to change clothes, and by the time I go home, change then come back, things will probably be winding down here. I might as well head out for the night. Will you tell Albert I’m proud of him? Of you both. Y’all rock.”
Gregg tucked his hands in the front pockets of his slacks. “I’ll tell him. I don’t think we’ll be here much longer anyway. Is it okay if we come over and bring pizza and beer? I’ve been craving a veggie deep dish all week. Didn’t want to eat one because of all the calories, but now that all this”—he tipped his chin toward the stage—“is over, I don’t have to be so paranoid about counting calories.”
“That’d be great,” Chris replied even as he wondered if Gregg felt sorry for him or something. He’d never known Gregg to be stringent when it came to his diet. Then again, he and Gregg weren’t besties, although they were working on being friends.
“Okay. We’ll be there in an hour or so, maybe an hour and a half.” Gregg smirked. “You know, I was going to set you up with Dane, or try to. Don’t think your brother didn’t notice your copy of the calendar has been open to December the last few times he stopped by.”
Chris’ face heated with a blush. “I left it there because it was the last month in the calendar.”
Gregg nodded. “Sure. We’ll go with that. You know, you could change and come back. I can keep Dane here—”
“He’s occupied.” Chris untucked his shirt. “And I want to go home, kick back, shift for a while. Have pizza with you and Albert.”
It sounded like an ideal evening.
“Okay. We’ll see you soon.” Gregg started to turn away. “Be careful.”
“Sure. Y’all too.” Chris glanced and saw Dane talking to a few people who were standing around him. Whatever scheme Gregg and Albert might have had to hook Chris up with Dane wouldn’t have worked. Chris was an average guy, and Dane…was gorgeous.
I don’t do gorgeous even if I’m offered the chance. Chris had been there and been burned by the experience, although he’d never hooked up with anyone as handsome as Dane. Regardless, he knew he couldn’t hold someone like Dane’s interest for long. There was no point in even fantasizing about it.
A native Texan, Bailey spends her days spinning stories around in her head, which has contributed to more than one incident of tripping over her own feet. Evenings are reserved for pounding away at the keyboard, as are early morning hours. Sleep? Doesn't happen much. Writing is too much fun, and there are too many characters bouncing about, tapping on Bailey's brain demanding to be let out.
Caffeine and chocolate are permanent fixtures in Bailey's office and are never far from hand at any given time. Removing either of those necessities from Bailey's presence can result in what is known as A Very, Very Scary Bailey and is not advised under any circumstances.
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