Michael bowed his head. All he could think about was being with Jag, laughing with him, talking with him, touching him, making love to him. Fuck, last night had been amazing, but Jag’s declaration of love had thrown him for a loop. Looking back, he realised every moment had been exactly that—that crazy seductive dance, the brief striptease, the lovemaking—all of it had been Jag’s way of showing him how deeply he felt about him. Michael hadn’t expected it at all. He’d been convinced that Jag was still holding back, that although he’d lowered his walls a little, they were still standing tall and strong. But at some point, those walls must have crumbled, and Michael hadn’t even noticed.
But then, he hadn’t noticed that he was falling in love, either. Christ. He had fallen in love with Jag. He swallowed, some small part of him feeling that he was being unfaithful to Edward, even though he’d been gone for years.
“You’ve only known him for a few weeks,” Mac said.
It didn’t matter. Michael knew how he felt. He hadn’t known Edward for much longer before they’d known they would spend the rest of their lives together. What they hadn’t known was how short a time that would be.
“How can you be in love with him when you don’t know who he really is?” Mac argued. “How do you know anything he’s told you is the truth? The kid could be taking you for a ride.”
Michael couldn’t believe that. He wouldn’t even entertain it as a possibility. Nothing about Jag came across as fake. If he wasn’t on the level, Michael was sure he would have seemed more polished, less…real. He would have come up with lies instead of carrying his secrets like a shield.
“He might be a con artist,” Mac went on. “You could wake up one morning to find your bed, your safe,andyour bank account empty.”
“That won’t happen,” Michael growled. “Jag’s not like that.”
“How can you possibly know that?” Mac asked, raising his voice in response to Michael doing the same. “You’ve just admitted you don’t know his name or what the fuck he’s running from.” He flicked Michael’s head. “You need to start thinking with your brain, not your heart or your cock.”
“And do what?” Michael asked, exasperated. He’d wanted a sounding board, not for Mac to judge him or throw wild accusations about Jag around.
“I don’t fucking know.” Mac threw up his hands “End things,” he said decisively. “Before he hurts you.”
Michael wiped his hand over his face. He didn’t want to end things with Jag. He’d lose him soon enough anyway. Nor could he entertain Mac’s theory that Jag was out to con him. It didn’t feel right at all. The little that Jag had revealed about himself had shown Michael a past full of pain and fear. Unless Jag was an Oscar-winning actor, there was no way he could have faked all that.
“I can’t,” he said.
“You won’t, more like. Bloody idiot.”
Michael nudged Mac with his shoulder. “Will you still be there to pick up the pieces when my heart gets broken?”
“I suppose.” Mac huffed. “And to say, ‘I told you so’.”
Michael laughed softly. “I bet you will.” He raised his sandwich to his mouth but didn’t take a bite. He wasn’t hungry anymore. “I wish I could be enough of a reason for him to stay.”
Mac sighed heavily. “If you’re right, and he is running from something, it wouldn’t matter how amazing you are, what you could offer him, or how much he loves you. If his past comes looking, he’ll bolt.”
“What if I could protect him from it?”
Mac put his hand on Michael’s knee. “Mate, you’re a great guy, but what are you going to do? The mob could be hunting him down, for all you know.”
“I’m pretty sure that only happens on TV.”
“Whatever.” He stared at Michael earnestly. “If he’sthatscared, you probably don’t want to stand in the way of him and whoever’s coming to get him.” He picked up and polished off his sandwich, his face contorting with thought. “Okay, last piece of advice: I know you reckon asking him questions will push him away, but the way I see it, you’ve got nothing to lose. The kid’s going to fuck off anyway. So, if you’re serious about him sticking around and you protecting him, pin him down about what the fuck’s going on. Either he’ll trust you enough to tell you and youmightbe able to figure out a solution to his problem, or he’ll run and you’ll lose him a few days sooner than you were going to anyway.” He prodded Michael’s shoulder. “Or sneak a peek at his passport and let me know his name, and I’ll get my uncle to run it through the police database.”
Michael hated every bit of Mac’s advice, but he couldn’t help thinking his friend was at least partially right. Jag had said he loved him. With love came trust. With trust came honesty. Would it really be so wrong to ask Jag to be honest with him?
* * *
Jag was grinning when he appeared at Michael’s office door, clutching a bulging carrier bag. It almost melted Michael’s resolve to try to talk to the young man then and there.
“I thought we could go up to your flat and cook together,” Jag said. “I know it’s late…” He tipped his head to the side thoughtfully. “Or maybe it’s early, but I’m starving, and anyway, I thought it would be fun. You like chicken, don’t you?”
Michael stared at him and the excited expression on his face. He looked so adorably happy. More full of life than Michael had ever seen him, and it was intoxicating. It would have been so easy to go along with Jag’s plan—which he’d obviously spent time and money on—and go up to the flat to cook, eat, and hopefully end up in bed together. But they needed to talk.
Jag’s grin faded. “What’s wrong?”
Michael pushed his chair back, away from the desk. “We need to talk, Jag.”
Jag took a half step back. Even from across the room, Michael could see panic flitting through the young man’s eyes.
