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Light flooded the area as the door to the outside opened. It reminded him of that time he had been wearing night vision goggles and someone suddenly turned on their truck headlights right in his face.

He fumbled to put his sunglasses back on. He was bah-lind.

And deafened by Patty, who was shrieking with laughter as she followed Robin inside.

“. . . a minute there—ha ha ha—I actually believed you had a real thing for Adam,” she was saying. She laughed again, much too loudly and merrily, but Robin didn’t join in.

“Crap,” he said instead, trying to see his watch in what was for him, no doubt, sudden dimness. “I’m late for makeup. Janey, this time it’s not my fault.”

“Get down there,” Jane ordered him. “Go. Patty, stay!”

Robin took his backpack from Patty and went out the door.

“I mean, we can check them out, of course,” Jules Cassidy was saying to Decker as they, too, came inside. Jack Shelton trailed behind them. “We
should
check them out—along with everyone who’s been issued an open-ended press pass by HeartBeat.”

“Please tell me I’ve misunderstood what you’re saying,” Jane interrupted him, “and that those clowns from the
National Voice
have not been given a press pass”—it was obvious from Jules’ and Decker’s faces that she hadn’t misunderstood at all—“by those raging idiots at HeartBeat. Why would they
do
that?”

As Jack Shelton offered his opinion, Decker pulled Cosmo aside. It wasn’t quite far enough from the others for a proper dressing-down. That would come later.

“There’s some real irony here,” his team leader told him.

“I know, Chief.” Cos was known on the Teams for his ability to be dead silent. He was capable of going days—weeks, really—without uttering a single word. “It won’t happen again.”

“Next time,” Decker said, “
if
there is a next time, you need to say ‘No comment’ and walk away.”

“I will. I should have.”

Deck wasn’t done. “You don’t touch them, Cos. You don’t get within five feet of them. You lay hands on them, it’s their payday. You know this.”

He did. These bastards were experts when it came to never throwing the first punch. They were also card-carrying members of Litigation Nation, whose motto was “Sue first, figure out the damages later.”

“Don’t screw around with your career—or Tom’s reputation,” Decker told him.

“Heard and understood, Chief.”

“Excuse me. If you’re ready,” Patty said to Cosmo, “I’ll show you that extras file.”

She was waiting by the door, radiating impatience, and Cosmo headed toward her. Still, he couldn’t resist one last glance at Jane, who—hot damn—was watching him walk away.

He must have smiled, because she smiled back, and his heart did a slow somersault in his chest.

Friend, client—he didn’t give a damn how their relationship was officially defined. Bottom line was that he loved it when she smiled. As much as he wanted to run his tongue over every inch of her naked body—or lie back and close his eyes while she did the same to him—he also knew he’d be perfectly happy just to sit in a room with her, talking to her, listening to her laughter, watching her smile.

She touched her watch and quirked an eyebrow.

Meet at noon, she’d said.

Cos nodded once. Oh, yeah. He remembered.

He was so there.

C
HAPTER
T
HIRTEEN

“Hey, J. Welcome back to the set!”

Robin turned to see Adam heading toward them.
Shit.
What was he doing here?

Robin was escorting Jules down the back hallway off the soundstage—the one that led to both Janey’s and Patty’s offices. They were in search of a quiet space with a power outlet where Jules could plug in his cell phone.

The FBI agent’s battery had run out because he’d had to share a hotel room with his boss last night. The ensuing panic—What if he hates my underwear? What if he ate beans for dinner? What if he snores like Elmer Fudd and my laughter keeps waking him up?—had created a certain amount of brain fade.

Apparently Jules’ formidable team leader, Max Something, was the result of a three-way between Emma Peel, Einstein, and the Energizer Bunny, with the possibility of a small, superpower-inducing nuclear accident tossed in.

Mysterious, brilliant, unstoppable, fabulous, fair-minded, tough, powerful, brilliant, brilliant, and, oh, had Jules mentioned that Max was brilliant?

The adverbs—or were they adjectives? Fuck it, Robin could never keep that straight. Whatever they were, they really flew when Jules described the man.

There was also this kind of quiet reverence involved in the utterance of Max’s name that, for some reason, really pissed him off.

Robin was almost jealous.

Well, okay, he
was
jealous, but not in, like, a gay way. He was jealous because he could live to be 500, and no one would ever say
his
name with that amount of devotion and respect.

Except maybe Patty.

Who certainly wouldn’t use the world
brilliant
four times as she attempted to describe him to one of her friends, so it just wasn’t the same.

Crap, he still hadn’t talked to Patty.

His plan was to set up a dinner date way,
way
in the future—claim they were both too busy to get together before then. That would get her off his back. He could use the breathing room to figure out what he was going to say when they did sit down together. Obviously
So, hey, remember how I thought I was madly in love with you? Well, I suspect it was only a virus because I’m feeling much better now
was not the right approach.

Although it was clear that running and hiding from her forever was not the solution, either.

It took up far too much of his time and energy.

When Robin had first led Jules into this hallway, looking for a quiet place to make a phone call, the sounds of life coming from Patty’s office had scared the bejesus out of him. But Patty wasn’t in there, thank you, God. It was just Janey’s Navy SEAL, Cosmo, using the copying machine.

“You can use Jane’s office,” he told Jules, focusing on the main problem at hand—the fact that Jules needed to make a call to Washington.

At least that
had
been the main problem before Adam appeared.

The big irony was that Robin had just finished telling Jules that they weren’t filming any of Jack’s scenes until tonight—the obvious subtext of his message being that he could relax. Adam wouldn’t be around at all today.

Unless, of course, he made a special effort to come to the studio because he was hoping to bump into—who else?—Jules.

Cue Adam. Enter stage left. “Hey, J. Welcome back to the set!” As if this was Adam’s movie, and Jules was his personal guest. As if Jules hadn’t been here before Adam even walked into the casting director’s office. As if Adam hadn’t used Jules shamelessly just to get that audition.

Although, okay. Janey was right about the little shithead. He was a tremendously powerful actor. The few scenes Robin had already shot with him had been awesome. But when “Cut” was called, when the scene was finished and the AD dismissed them, Robin moved fast to get out of chat range.

Adam as Jack was terrific, but Adam as Adam was loathsome.

“Well, well,” Robin said. “Isn’t this an unpleasant surprise.”

Adam ignored him. He’d apparently decided to go with the happy-go-lucky, absolutely nothing is wrong approach, as opposed to the repentant and apologetic grovel.

“How was your trip?” he asked Jules cheerfully. He always dressed like a gay Fonzie—faded blue jeans, pristine tight white T, leather jacket slung over one shoulder, biker boots.

As if he’d ever even been within spitting distance of a real motorcycle.

Yet it was clear he’d made an effort to look good today—his hair was carefully tousled, and the way he was carrying his jacket accentuated his well-defined biceps.

“I missed you,” Adam continued, giving Jules more of that same big smile. “Did you get my messages? I’m sorry I called so often. I couldn’t tell if I was getting through.” He tossed his jacket over several sawhorses that had been stacked near the wall and continued the rest of the way with his arms outstretched. “How about my scoring this role of Jack, huh? Pretty amazing. Of course, I have you to thank, totally.”

“Yeah, well,” Jules said, lifting his briefcase, using it as a rather obvious shield to prevent Adam from throwing his arms around him in an enthusiastic embrace. “Congratulations.”

“That’s all you’re going to say?” Adam was working his ass off to keep this light. He actually managed to make his eyes sparkle with amusement. “Congratulations? This is huge, J. This is why I came out to California—for a chance like this. And it’s all thanks to you.”

What a fool. Robin didn’t know the FBI agent all too well, but it was beyond obvious that Adam’s doing a face-to-face here, in public, at work no less, was the dead-last thing Jules would want.

“Gee, and here I thought you came out to California for the sex,” Robin said to Adam.

Who turned and looked at him with wariness in his eyes.

What fun. He had apparently hit close to the truth with that sex comment, and now Adam was trying to gauge just how friendly Robin and Jules had become.

“Will you excuse us, please?” Adam asked him oh so politely.

“Not a chance.” Except now Jules was looking at him in surprise, too. “Unless, you know, Jules wants me to go,” Robin added.

There was silence then—well, if you could call the sound of that ancient copy machine running
silence
—while Jules stood motionless. Robin cursed himself for giving him a choice. It was obvious he had a serious weakness where Adam was concerned.

“This isn’t the time or place for this,” Jules said.

“Yeah, it sort of is,” Adam said. “Considering I have no idea where you’re staying and you won’t return my calls. Where else am I going to get a chance to talk to you?” He must’ve decided there was a shade too much pissy whiner in his voice, because he stopped himself. Smiled a smile that was amazingly genuine seeming. “I have so much to tell you, J. Have you seen the script? I’m in almost every scene. And oh, my God, I’m actually doing an interview with
Out
magazine tomorrow morning and I just found this great new apartment and . . . It’s unbelievable how much my life has changed in just a few days. Look, it’s almost noon. Let’s go have lunch. My treat.”

For some reason, that made Jules laugh. But it faded far too quickly, and then all he looked was tired. “I can’t. It’s too late.”

Adam played dumb. “No, it’s not. It’s only 11:45.”

“You know that’s not what he meant,” Robin said.

Adam got hostile, which was pretty cocky considering Robin had at least forty pounds on him. “Why don’t you let him speak for himself?”

“Why don’t you start listening to what he’s saying? Of course, you’ll have to stop talking about yourself in order to do that.” Robin made talky-talky motions with both of his hands. “Blah, blah, blah, me, me, me . . .” He was channeling Harve now. This was awesome. He had to call his agent and ask him to find another gay role. Someone who wasn’t completely repressed this time.

“Fuck you!” Adam laughed as he said it, his subtext clear: What an asshole.

It took one to know one, didn’t it, Tiny?

Robin straightened to his full height, which made him tower above Adam. He could crush the little faggot like a bug. He took a menacing step closer. Got loud. “Fuck
you.
”

Jules, shorter than them both, pushed between them, one hand on each to keep them apart. “Stop.”

Cosmo stuck his head out of Patty’s office, surveyed the situation, and disappeared again. Obviously, the SEAL felt that he wasn’t needed.

“Are you seriously with this guy?” Adam asked Jules, incredulity pouring off each word. This time he didn’t leave it to subtext. “What an asshole!”

Robin was aware as hell of Jules’ hand warm against his chest, applying pressure, as if he could keep Robin from kicking the shit out of Adam.

He tried to take a step forward, but he couldn’t—Jules was an unmovable rock.

A rock who shot Robin a warning look. “Don’t prove him right.”

Dude might’ve been short, but make no mistake, Robin was not going to get past him. Of course not. Jules was an FBI agent. He just happened to be a short one who smelled really good.

So okay, pushing Adam against the wall and making him beg for his life wasn’t an option here.

Robin would have to use words to scare him.

“It’s not serious yet,” Robin said to Adam, complete with a much-too-sweet smile, right over Jules’ head. “Jules and me. But maybe it will be—after tonight.”

Both Adam and Jules turned and looked at him in surprise. He ignored Adam, making his smile warmer now as he gazed at Jules. Flirty. With a hint of I-dare-you. “I didn’t get a chance to ask you, but I’m going clubbing tonight. Research, you know? Want to come?”

Jules laughed and somewhat self-consciously removed his hand from Robin’s chest. He laughed again. Then held Robin’s gaze. “Yes, actually. I’d love to.”

Robin didn’t let himself look away. Harve had told him so much was said via eye contact. Straight men didn’t gaze into each other’s eyes. Not for more than a very few seconds.

But hey, come on—he was acting here. And doing a damn fine job of it apparently, because that sure as hell was a spark of attraction in Jules Cassidy’s pretty brown eyes.

The weird thing was, the man really did have very pretty eyes. Deep and dark, they were so brown that he had to look closely to see where the iris ended and the pupil began. Gazing into them was like looking into the far reaches of an outer space that was warm and welcoming, like diving into a bottomless pit of hot, melted chocolate, like . . .

Hey, there. Okay. Getting just a
little
too lost in the role. And yet he still couldn’t look away. . . .

“J.”

Jules ended up turning first, to look at Adam.

“It’s never too late,” Adam continued. “People change.
I’ve
changed.”

Score. Adam had bought it—this completely fictional relationship between Robin and Jules.

“How’s nine o’clock?” Robin asked Jules, loving the way it made Adam squirm. He reached out, adjusted the slightly rumpled collar of Jules’ shirt, touching without quite touching. It was a technique he used all the time when he was trying to pick up a woman at a bar. “You want me to pick you up at your hotel, or should we meet at the club?”

“I’ll meet you there.” Jules glanced at Adam, and Robin knew he didn’t want the shithead to know where he was staying. Wise move, kemosabe.

“There’s this place called Big Dick’s over on Santa Monica—”

“I know where it is,” Jules cut him off with a laugh. “You’re kidding, right? That place is so . . . tacky.”

“Isn’t that the point?” Robin turned to Adam. “Aw, gee, too bad,
A.,
you can’t come—you’re filming the tanks in the woods scene tonight.” He delivered a big, fake sigh. “What a shame.”

“Fuck you,” Adam said, yet the message that Robin received loud and clear—just how very worried he was—was broadcast by the way he was standing with such obvious and insolent lack of concern.

“It’s almost noon—I need to call Peggy,” Jules told Robin. “Are you sure it’s okay if I use your sister’s office?”

“Positive,” he said, making his smile extra warm for Adam’s benefit. “Go ahead in. And if I don’t see you later, J., I’ll see you tonight.”

For a moment there, Robin was convinced that his use of Adam’s cute little nickname for Jules was going to make the son of a bitch pop a vein.

Instead, Adam smiled—tightly—and asked Jules, “You still working with Peggy Ryan? That must suck.” He turned to Robin. “Let’s just say she’s not exactly a contender for this year’s Open and Affirming Award from GLAD.”

Again with the subtext.
Look at how well I know my J.—I’m familiar with the people he works with.
This son of a bitch just wouldn’t give up.

“But you’ve got to admit, Max
is
pretty wonderful. And so brilliant.” Robin countered with a message of his own:
Jules has talked to me about his work, too.
“He makes up for Peggy in spades.” He only suspected that was true—Jules hadn’t said a word to him about this Peggy Ryan. Of course, what Adam didn’t know could be used to drive the bastard crazy.

Cosmo Richter chose that moment to emerge from Patty’s office. The sound of the copier had stopped.

Adam clearly hadn’t noticed when the SEAL had popped his head out of the office earlier. Now he gave Cosmo a full once-over, obviously checking for a telltale rainbow keychain trailing outside of his pants pocket. Or a triangle tattoo on his massive biceps.

Dude made Adam’s gym arms look practically atrophied.

“Dream on,” Robin murmured to him. Still, he could understand the fascination. The guy looked like he could bench-press a refrigerator. “He’s straight.”

It was hard to tell if Adam was seriously interested in the SEAL, or if he was only playing the “I don’t care—you didn’t really hurt me” card for Jules’ benefit. “No one’s completely straight,” Adam said. Obviously he didn’t care whether or not Cosmo overheard him.

“Are you finished in there?” Jules asked Cosmo, clearly preferring to use Patty’s office instead of Jane’s for his phone call.

“Just taking a break for, uh, lunch,” Cosmo told him, glancing at Robin and Adam, too.

As they all watched—well, he and Adam watched; Jules had already gone into Patty’s office and shut the door behind him—Cosmo opened the door leading downstairs.