Gorgeous, businessman, Saxon Dearing buys a pied de terre in the city where he works. Only using the place for three nights, he goes home to his beachside house for the rest of the week. At thirty-two, immersed in his work, he doesn’t know he’s lonely until delicious, twenty-five year old Jon Palmer literally drops into his life during a thunderstorm.
Artist Jon struggles to sell his paintings from a tiny studio, and works in a city gallery to pay his rent. As the two men fall in love, Jon can’t overcome the idea his lack of success is a barrier to telling handsome, wealthy Saxon how he feels.
When his boss offers him a dangerous way of making money, Jon must make a choice.
Will he risk telling Saxon he loves him or let his lack of confidence lead him astray and away from the man who loves him, too?
Read the teaser:
Saxon’s eyelids drooped. He caught himself before he fell asleep with his laptop balanced on his thighs as he checked Singapore trading. He logged out, closed the lid, and slid the machine under his big low bed. It grazed the side of the baseball bat he kept under there, just in case. A habit left over from the early days of his career when he lived in a neighborhood fraught with crime. Saxon had cleaned his teeth earlier, so he threw the pillow that had supported his back to the other side of the bed. Fatigued, he dropped to sleep as soon as he lay his head down.
Some change in the familiar sounds he generally slept through woke him. He listened without focusing in the darkness blanketing the sleeping end of his studio apartment. Then, with a growing sense of dread, as his eyes became used to the dimness, the realization that someone opened the prismed skylight over the living area sent a prickle of sensation up his spine. He rolled silently from his bed, and prone on the warm wooden flooring, he clasped the baseball bat to his side.
Fearful, but convinced he had the element of surprise to confront an intruder, Saxon watched as a man, tall, arm muscles straining, but obviously practiced at the maneuver, hung through the gap created when he’d pushed the skylight along. Saxon knew there’d once been a stair to that skylight and the roof, but the agent told him the builders had sealed off access in the conversion of the building. He muffled a ragged breath. Should I rush the guy as soon as he’s in the room? His heart hammered. Undecided, Saxon lay there, ramrod stiff, clutching his bat.
The man’s feet dangled only a little way from the floor.
It’ll be raining on my polished floor through that gap. The thought traveled through Saxon’s troubled mind. His grimace became a grim smile.
The trespasser dropped with a soft thud. He strode to the European laundry, and pulled open the right side of the louvered doors. He brought a broom and closed the skylight from below. The glass prism slid along easily and the man stilled for a moment gazing up.
Fucking hell, he knows where things are. Under cover of the pooled darkness and his bedframe, Saxon stared as the intruder took the broom back to the alcove room.
The man closed the doors, turned, and after flipping on the floor lamp standing next to the saloon doors of the kitchen, went through them.
Saxon waited, confused and shocked.
The lamp cast a soft amber glow over the immediate area and raindrops glistened in the man’s dark hair as he arrived back with a wad of paper towel, and cleaned up the splattering of water on the floor. Then he took off a backpack he wore, slipped it to the floor by an armchair, and retreated to the kitchen. In seconds, he was back. He must have left his rain-wet jacket in the kitchen because he appeared in a dark sweater.
Saxon discovered he was holding his breath, when, as the guy disappeared through the bathroom door, dizziness engulfed him. He gathered his courage as he gulped in air. With a quick rub of his elbow that had supported him on the luckily heated but hard floor, he stood and rammed his feet into the leather tartan-lined slippers he favored. Hanging onto his baseball bat, Saxon crept toward the bathroom, trying not to let the soles of his slides slap on the parquet. Halfway there he froze.
A line of light from the bathroom fell across the floor and armchair on that side of the room. Only a little ajar, Saxon could still hear the unmistakable sound of the shower through the opening. What the hell? He’s taking a shower. What sort of burglar takes a shower? Saxon sagged onto the arm of the chair. Fear and now bewilderment weakened him. He hadn’t time to do more than stand as the intruder came out of the bathroom wearing one of Saxon’s big fluffy towels around his waist.
Saxon stared at him. Fuck, I could do without him being hot. He ran his gaze rapidly over the delicious hard chest on display and then locked eyes with the guy. He is gorgeous.
Light from the bathroom lit the young man from behind. His damp hair stroked his cheeks in unruly strands. He held his hands up, palms out.
Saxon lifted his baseball bat. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” His voice cracked.
The guy nodded at the bat. “You won’t need that. I’m harmless. I’m sorry. I didn’t expect anyone to be home.” A contrite expression passed on his handsome face, and then Saxon was certain amusement replaced it.
Saxon dropped his arm and the bat swung by his leg. “Clearly.” He glared at the man, but inexplicably couldn’t summon anger, and in the face of this half-naked gorgeous guy, his fear disappeared and curiosity filled him. “You’d better explain yourself.”Copyright E. D. Parr, Evernight Publishing
Read an interview with Saxon Dearing
Today we welcome, Saxon Dearing one of the heroes from , Like a Thief in the Night
I’ll make this interview fun…
Saxon, If you were a dessert, what would you be?
(Laughs) A dessert … well I know Jon likes ginger cookies, but that’s not really a dessert, huh? Okay I know, lemon meringue pie, yeah.
What do you do when you need to blow off steam?
If I’m in the city I go to the gym and beat the crap out of a punch bag. If I’m at the beach house, I run on the beach, although I do keep to the wet sand and I like to wear my iPod
What do you look for in a man?
Nothing now I’ve met Jon. He’s perfect for me. I love him. He’s intelligent, creative, good-looking, sexy, sweet … I could go on all day about him.
What is in your refrigerator right now?
In the city, steak, lettuce, cherry tomatoes … a half pack of beer, what else … a red pepper. There’s not that much because Jon and I are going up to the beach house tonight.
What’s on your bedroom floor?
In the city, my old baseball bat, that’s under the bed.
What do you wear in bed?
Depends what I’m doing (smiles) so it ranges from a t-shirt and boxers to nothing … (smiles again) mostly nothing now
Light on or off?
Chocolate or vanilla?
Is that for licking off Jon’s abs? Has to be chocolate.
What’s your biggest fear?
Oh, well, I have to think about that for a second. I could say spiders or losing on the stock market but truth is it’s losing Jon’s love. It would break my heart.
What is your most treasured possession?
After the last question … Jon’s not my possession but I treasure him. If it has to be a possession, then it’s a drawing Jon gave me … he’s an artist.
What’s your favorite outfit?
I have some old faded levis and beaten up leather boots that I rely on when I’m not in suits. I usually throw on a t-shirt and my battered leather jacket over the top. I have to wear suits for work. I like my black one best.
What do you like to see Jon dressed in?
Anything he likes, (his eyes mist a little) although I do like him in the tux he wore for our wedding, and in his ripped jeans, because there’s a frayed bit high on his thigh…
Do you have a favorite music track?
My taste and surprisingly Jon’s too, is eclectic. We’re listening to old Coldplay stuff right now … love them.
Tell the readers something you’ve never told anyone before.
(Grins) What? You mean spill a secret? You do. (Takes a deep breath) I have nothing for you, nope not a thing…
We’ll make that the last question. Thanks for visiting. Where are you off to next?
(Smiles) You know that’s another question, right?
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