Haunted Heart Read online

  Shaking his limbs and jumping in place for a moment, he cleared his head long enough to finish the picture. The vibrant red tones of the bodies entwined clashed with the greens, blues, and yellows of their surroundings, giving the depiction a living, vibrating feel to it. Ruben hoped Duncan would like it.

  “Just do it now, you coward,” Ruben encouraged himself. He put down the pencils, hurried to the laptop, and opened his e-mail program. “What do I want to say to him?” His fingers lay on the keyboard. “I wanna suck on your lower lip till it’s swollen and wet? I wanna lick all over your chest and abs and down the hairy treasure trail to your delicious cock? I wanna blow you till you scream?” Pursing his lips, Ruben shook his head and let out a breathless chuckle. “Yeah, maybe not that.”

  Tucking his legs under him, he shifted the laptop onto his lap and started typing.

  Dear Duncan,

  Would you like to come to my house for a cup of coffee next week?

  Sincerely,

  Ruben W.

  It was short and to the point, he thought. And his anxieties started building with just those few words. Before he could second-guess himself to death, he hit Send. Then, to prevent any retractions, he snapped the lid of the laptop closed and took a few calming breaths.

  Worrying his lower lip and wringing his hands, he wondered if Duncan would agree. Then Ruben frowned at calling the art director by his first name. When had that happened? Sighing, he fought for self-control.

  Once he found a smidgeon of courage, he pulled the lid of the laptop open again, knelt on the thick, warm rug on the floor, and focused on his inner workings. Through online courses, he had taught himself yoga exercises to better handle his body’s involuntary panic attacks and nervous reactions. So far, it had worked very well.

  Lost in his training, he lost track of time too.

  The ping of an incoming e-mail zapped him out of his blissful calm.

  He grabbed the laptop and yanked it close so he could read the message right away.

  I’ll be there on Tuesday at two.

  Duncan.

  Ruben’s chest heaved as both panic and relief flooded his system. He didn’t know which to react to first. “Okay. He’s coming here. Remember, I wanted this. I want this. It’s all right. I want to meet him again. It’s gonna be okay.” He kept up the whispered encouragements for a while until the tide of agitation subsided and he was the master of his emotions once more. He knew that reign would not last, but for now it was enough.

  “HELLO? RUBEN?”

  The words followed the second knock on Ruben’s front door at 1:56 p.m. on Tuesday. Like before, Ruben was a nervous wreck, and he feared this would end the way it had earlier. And he really didn’t want that.

  Smoothing out the imaginary wrinkles in his clothes—simple gray slacks, white dress shirt, and an open black vest, with no shoes or socks—Ruben descended the stairs, fast at first, then slowing in hesitation.

  “Come on. You can do this.” The pep talk helped. Then again, it had actually started at around noon, so he was reaping the rewards of what he had sown hours ago.

  Shaking his trembling hands, Ruben walked to the door, twisted the knob, and opened it before his brain could catch on and stop him.

  Like the last time, Duncan looked breathtaking, and Ruben’s heart thudded in his chest. Duncan wore business casual, much like Ruben, with dark-brown slacks, a crisp, white dress shirt, and a dark, amber-colored silk tie, with no coat or jacket, and with brown loafers.

  Showcasing pearly white teeth, Duncan smiled happily. “Ruben? Can’t tell you how nice it is to meet you.” He extended his hand.

  Swallowing down his anxiety, Ruben matched his guest’s smile, though he felt his own was lacking. “H-hello, Mr. K-Kerr. Likewise.” He tried to raise his hand to return the greeting, but it just trembled, fighting the order his brain sent.

  Duncan glanced down briefly, but then he pulled his arm back and smiled. “Shaking hands is a bit formal and old-fashioned, it’s true. Not needed among friends, right?”

  Ruben blushed. Duncan’s charm and ease of adjustment only endeared him to Ruben more, causing his crush to deepen. “N-no, I guess not. Um, w-would you like to come in?” Taking a step to the side, he opened the door wider.

  “Thank you.” Duncan walked in, a confident stride that exuded alpha masculinity and consequently made Ruben’s groin tingle hotly. Duncan’s gaze swept over the foyer and deeper into the house. “You have a beautiful place here.”

  “Oh, yes. Thank you.” Ruben closed the door, staring at the floor mostly to prevent himself from tripping on his own feet, and then dashed toward the sitting room where he was planning on serving coffee. The sitting room was on the opposite side of the house from the sunroom where he drew and painted. “Please, this way.” With a shaky wave, he indicated where his guest should take a seat on the couch.

  Duncan nodded in acknowledgement and sat opposite Ruben. “The place is so filled with light. Airy. Spacious. Fit for an artist.”

  Ruben bowed his head a bit, not daring even a glance at Duncan. “It does have a kind of beach house feel to it, I know. Architecture one might expect in California or Florida, not this far up north.” To stop the idle chitchat that made it hard for Ruben to focus, he poured fresh ground coffee into Duncan’s cup and asked, “Do you want cream or sugar with your coffee?”

  “Sugar. Four spoons. I have a bit of a sweet tooth.” Duncan chuckled as he said that, and that made Ruben look at him, seeing the man give a self-deprecating grin and a wink.

  Unable to help himself, Ruben chuckled back. “Me too.” Then he felt awkward at the confession but didn’t know how to take it back, or pretend it didn’t happen, or segue to another topic smoothly.

  “I may be out of line asking this….” Duncan cut into Ruben’s thoughts, his tone polite and somehow pleading. “But I would love to see a portfolio of some of your work. The submission call didn’t specify that since it was just for one book cover. Since then you’ve shown your skills with every new picture. I’d love to see more, if that’s not intrusive.”

  Ruben shook with uncertainty. “Um, now…?” He had no idea what he wanted to show Duncan: All or nothing. Probably the latter. He had wanted to impress Duncan, for more than one reason, but could he go through with it and allow this virtual stranger into his sanctuary from the harsh realities?

  “No. After coffee, maybe?” Duncan sounded hopeful, and his smile was kind, warm, and welcoming. Ruben wanted to trust that. His good impression of the man had grown with the e-mails, but how could he be sure that was Duncan’s true self? “No pressure, Ruben. If you don’t wish to show me anything, that’s fine too. I just wanted to meet you in person. To see the young man behind all this amazing imagination and talent.”

  Pleased beyond belief at the unexpected compliment, Ruben blushed fire red and ducked his head. “T-thanks….” He quickly added several spoonfuls of sugar to both their coffees to give his hands something to do.

  “Perhaps we could start this the other way around.”

  Baffled, Ruben had no clue as to what Duncan meant.

  After he took a sip of his coffee, Duncan grinned. “Do you have any questions for me? About the publishing house? About this whole process? About me personally? Fire away.” Then he smacked his lips, surprise written on his face. “Wow. This is really good. Did you grind the beans yourself?”

  Beaming, Ruben nodded. He was pleased Duncan had noticed. “I like fresh coffee. This is an African blend, exotic. There’s a place in Seattle where you can get a grand variety of beans. I use three different types at once. Gives it a little something extra.”

  Duncan took another gulp with a satisfied expression. “This is great. Probably the best coffee I’ve ever had. And that’s saying something considering we live in Seattle.” He laughed.

  Feeling light as a feather, Ruben chimed in, “Thank you. I’m glad you like it.”

  For a moment, they drank their coffees. Ruben glanced at Duncan as m
uch as he dared while Duncan seemed to be taking in his surroundings. The sitting room had a whitewashed fireplace, two couches and two armchairs, a long cherrywood coffee table, tall windows, and white-painted wooden fixtures. The room was airy, and the cracked-open windows let the mountain wind in.

  “Have you lived here long?” Duncan asked, his eyes fixed on a couple of photographs on the mantle.

  Ruben followed his gaze. The pictures were mostly of Rose with her female friends, her charity functions, and the occasional family photo with Ruben when he’d been a kid, loving the life here, carefree. Knowing he hadn’t been that peaceful in ages darkened Ruben’s mood a bit.

  “That’s Rose, my grandmother, in those pictures. She owned the house. When she died she left it to me.”

  “Is that you as a child?” Duncan pointed at the few photos with Ruben in them, and he smiled. “You looked adorable.” Then he chuckled low and locked gazes with Ruben. “That hasn’t changed.”

  Suddenly, Ruben found it extremely hard to breathe.

  Chapter 6

  IN IMMEDIATE hindsight, Duncan realized maybe he should have kept the personal compliment to himself. But it was true. Ruben was just the absolute cutest guy he had ever seen.

  “I’m sorry if I embarrassed you,” he offered, not really contrite but to be polite.

  Flushed red, Ruben stammered something under his breath.

  “I fear I may have developed a severe case of foot-in-mouth disease,” Duncan jested to lighten the mood, and Ruben actually smiled at that. Duncan considered that a win. “I may come on pretty strong sometimes. I just know what I want when I see it.”

  “Oh.” Ruben’s eyes widened adorably big. Though Duncan hadn’t meant that as a sexual reference but as an allusion to Ruben’s art, he was glad to see Ruben didn’t seem put off by either possibility. In fact, if anything, Ruben seemed hot and bothered.

  That made Duncan want the young man more than ever. Still, he veered the discussion away from the erotic. “Before I became the art director with EP, I studied at Cornish College of Arts. Do you know it?”

  Ruben nodded, his smile fading. “Yes, I’ve heard of it.”

  Duncan by no means wished to upset Ruben. “Sometimes places like art colleges, with their preplanned courses and strict curriculums, don’t really get artists. Some artists never fit in to larger institutions. There’s nothing wrong with that.”

  Cocking his head to the side and his gaze aimed at the fireplace, Ruben seemed to mull this over. “I guess.” He looked down at the cup he was holding in his lap, clearly concerned. “Is the lack of a formal art degree a problem for—”

  “Oh, absolutely not,” Duncan replied emphatically. “Some of the best artists in history, and modern ones as well, have received no formal training whatsoever. It is not a requirement. You have worked for us a month now, and your talent alone is enough for us. We’re hoping you’re happy with us too. If there’s anything EP can do for you….” He wondered if Ruben would pick up on the offer, perhaps tell more about himself and his needs. It was important for Duncan to meet the young man’s needs.

  Whatever they may be.

  Ruben looked at Duncan with a mix of wariness and curiosity. “Are you still an artist, or do you only run the art department at EP?”

  “I still do the occasional artwork, if and when needed,” Duncan admitted with pride. “If my vision and the author’s meet, that is. With EP, the authors have much more say in their cover art than with most other publishers, romance or otherwise. We at Enamored Press have always believed that cover art can be a mutually satisfactory part of publishing and that there’s room for more than one single artistic vision.”

  Ruben nodded, a soft smile tugging the corners of his lips. “I saw some of your work on the EP website and on your professional blog. They’re beautiful.” Admiration was audible in his voice, and Duncan felt a surge of pride and pleasure. Surprisingly, for such a new acquaintance, Ruben’s opinion mattered to him very much.

  “Thank you, Ruben. That’s very kind of you to say.” Duncan watched, rapt, as Ruben’s cheeks pinked at the compliment. “I know my style is very different from yours.” Where Ruben drew and painted imaginative scenes with bright, vivid colors, Duncan often used real models and stock photos, usually in black and white, where motion and action were captured, that flash within a heartbeat.

  “You draw too,” Ruben noted, seemingly relaxing into the conversation.

  “I do, yes. Sometimes the vision simply can’t be done justice with models and real-life images. And for the likes of us, it’s easier and faster to draw a mock-up, isn’t it?” Duncan winked at Ruben, and the boy grinned, blushing endearingly.

  “Yes, I guess so.”

  “Have you ever thought about trying something different? Not saying you have to. Just curious, is all.” Duncan hastened to reassure the kid he hadn’t meant anything bad.

  Ruben frowned and worried his bottom lip, but the gestures seemed more pensive than hurt or irritated. “My brother, Benjamin, he’s into art photography with male and female nudes. He had a show a few years back. An erotica show. Straight and GLBT.”

  Duncan was surprised to hear this. He hadn’t known Ruben had a brother, let alone that the man was an artist too, only of a different kind, having chosen a more modern medium with the camera. Duncan wondered if the brother had as great an eye for art as Ruben did. But the name Benjamin Winterbottom sure didn’t sound familiar.

  “Does he use his real name? I’m only asking because I don’t recognize—”

  “No, his artistic pseudonym is Ben Winters.”

  Now that name did ring bells. Enamored Press had never approached Mr. Winters for covers, even though the man had been a big name a couple of years ago. Having someone with pure name recognition onboard the EP train was an unrealistic goal for a midsize, specialized publisher like his employer.

  “Are you two close?” Duncan had to ask since there were no pictures of the brother he could see, and for all intents and purposes, it seemed Ruben lived a solitary life, with little to no interaction with anyone. From what Duncan had learned, he had assumed Ruben was all alone in the world.

  Squirming in place, Ruben was clearly uncomfortable with the topic at hand. “He’s a successful man. He’s busy a lot. And I don’t live that close to Seattle anymore.”

  The evasive answer tightened something in Duncan’s chest, warming his heart with both sympathy and anger at the same time. A most curious sensation. “I see.” If Duncan had been Ruben’s brother, he would have stayed with this haunted young man for the rest of his days. Then again, if they were brothers, Duncan would be having erotic incest issues, which was bad.

  And these feelings were getting stronger by the minute. Duncan couldn’t turn his eyes away from the shy, dark-haired man with those big gray eyes, almost like a bird’s. Duncan wasn’t sure if he wanted to hug Ruben to keep him safe or to yank him into his arms, press that lithe body against his own, and ravage those luscious lips until neither of them could breathe.

  Ruben fidgeted in his seat, his gaze flickering all over the place. “D-do you have any siblings, Mr. Kerr?”

  So they were back to formal address? Duncan felt awfully disappointed but didn’t let that show on his face. “No. I’m an only child. My parents live in Portland. I see them whenever I can, a couple times a year.”

  Seemingly pleased hearing this, Ruben smiled wistfully. “That sounds nice.”

  The soft, coy smile and rueful tone made Duncan’s heart do a flip-flop. Ruben spoke to every passionate instinct in Duncan’s body and heart. “My parents would love you. You’re the kind of person they would dote on day and night. Cookies and cupcakes, cold milk and hot cocoa.”

  Blinking, Ruben apparently didn’t know how to process this statement. “Oh. Well, I…. That’s very, um….” He fell silent, and Duncan cursed his thoughtlessness. The time to woo Ruben into Duncan’s life was not right then. That much was self-evident. He didn’t wish to cause the boy an
y undue stress, yet he seemed to be doing that over and over.

  “I’m sorry if I embarrassed you, Ruben. Again. I apologize.” Duncan let out a self-deprecating laugh. “It’s just that, well, I feel a connection with you, and it’s throwing me for a loop.”

  Ruben cocked his head to the side, frowning with confusion. “A connection…?”

  “An artistic fellowship. And… an attraction, I suppose.” Duncan felt honesty was the best policy.

  Ruben blushed fiercely, and he opened and closed his mouth several times as though he were gasping for breath, but no sound came from him. “M-me…?” Then the redness vanished in a heartbeat and was replaced by a cold paleness that scared Duncan. It was terror, plain and simple.

  Then Ruben was up on his feet, trembling, and Duncan got up too, worried. Before he could offer any assistance, Ruben had dashed across the room to the foyer, yanked open the front door, and stood at its side, staring at the floor and obviously waiting for Duncan to leave.

  Concerned, Duncan walked closer. “Ruben, if I have offended you in any way—”

  “Please, leave.” The command was a desperate plea instead of a forceful order. There were unshed tears in Ruben’s eyes, and Duncan’s heart was breaking at the hopeless sight.

  “Ruben, whatever I did, please, forgive me. I truly meant no offense when I said—”

  But it was useless. Ruben’s jaw was quivering, and his stance was rigid yet shivering. He wanted Duncan gone.

  Duncan sighed and nodded, resigned. “It was wonderful to meet you in person, Ruben. Thank you for seeing me.” Instinct prompted him to offer his hand for shaking, but when his host made no move to reach for him, Duncan withdrew, stepped outside to the porch, and stood there at a loss as to what to do to rectify the situation. “I hope perhaps we can meet again when—”

  “Good-bye, Mr. Kerr.” The timid, shaky voice was cut off abruptly when Ruben shut the door firmly. Duncan heard the locks click into place.