His American Detective by Summer Devon

Author:Summer Devon
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Pronoun

~

Patrick put down the book, a novel about a dead Russian, and looked at his watch. He wished the note from Drury had said more than “looking into it.” What was there to look into? Drury would contact the New York bureau and get a story. Simple enough. She had plenty of contacts back in New York.

Ned was glaring and then grinning at the fire.

“What are you thinking about?”

“You.”

“I’m glad to see you looking so happy when you think about me. The scowl, no.”

“You’ve been watching me for a time, then?”

“Oh, yep, I have.”

He considered the chair next to Ned, but instead he crossed over to the door and locked it.

Ned rose to his feet at once. Of course he’d have to protest. And of course Patrick would listen.

“I’m not going to repeat what happened between us before.”

“All right,” Patrick said. He pulled off his jacket and placed it on the chair behind the desk.

Ned bit his lip. “What are you doing?”

“This room is too warm,” he said.

“It is not.”

“It is for me.” That was true enough. All his blood sang with heat as he carried out his absurd impulse.

He undid his cufflinks and put them in the pocket of his jacket. Then he unhooked his watch’s chain and fob and dropped them into his watch pocket.

When he’d unbuttoned and removed his vest, Ned made a soft noise. A kind of whimper.

Patrick grinned at him and slipped his braces off his shoulders, untucked his shirt, and started in on unbuttoning it.

“Oh,” said Ned. “What?”

Patrick sat and pulled off his socks and shoes. Since he didn’t wear sock garters, this was easy. He wiggled his bare feet in the thick carpet and considered putting on a display there. No, better to go to the sofa near the window. Thank goodness the drapes were drawn, or he’d give passersby a fine show. He set the shoes and socks on the floor next to the chair where he’d draped the jacket. The rest he’d take off over by the sofa. If Ned should grow upset, he’d at least cover up some of himself.

“What are you doing?” Ned asked.

“What does it look like I’m doing?”

“Taking off all your clothes in my library.”

Patrick snapped his fingers and pointed at him. “Huzzah! You win the prize.”

Ned gave a nervous laugh. “I hate to ask what that prize might be.”

Good. If he was able to joke, his host wasn’t offended, yet.

Patrick walked to the sofa, unbuttoning his trousers. He peeled them off and placed them on the arm of the sofa. Dressed only in an undershirt and drawers, he sat and waited several seconds for the next protest.

None came, but when his eyes met Ned’s, Ned turned red.

“I don’t know why you’re blushing. I’m the one embarrassing myself,” he said. With that, he unbuttoned and removed his undershirt and untied his drawers. He didn’t bother to fold those cotton garments and only tossed them on the arm over the shirt.

He tried to recall some of the draped

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