Deception (Southern Comfort) by Lisa Clark O'Neill

to realize he was gay, but Josh assumed he was long over it.  Of course even if he was, he probably didn’t want to be reminded.  It had been a rather awkward bump on the road of their friendship.  “I’m sorry, Chris.  That was uncalled for.”
    Chris waved the apology away.  “Water under the bridge.”  His eyes flickered up to meet Josh’s.  “So you want to hear what your girl’s up to or what?”
    Josh took the out, but still felt guilty.  He knew firsthand what it was like to want more than was offered from a friend. “Lay it on me,” he said finally.  “Is she heading to the hospital?”  He wanted to make sure he kept an eye on her overnight.  Call him paranoid, but he just didn’t like the situation.  He’d made some inquiries about the upstairs neighbor and the guy was definitely bad news.  Not to mention the fact that there was still the niggling little problem surrounding her brother. 
    “I overheard her conversation with her boss – who, by the way, is almost as pretty as you.  And he was playing the friend card pretty heavily.  You may want to keep an eye on him.”
    Well shit.  This was definitely not good news.  “You happen to catch a name?”
    “Dave… Dane.  Something like that.  I was at the other end of the bar, trying not to make it obvious I was listening.  I had to tune out the dudes arguing football while they slipped the bartender their bets.”
    This time Josh’s brow raised in surprise.  “And you just sat there?”
    “Sort of like you sat there in front of girlfriend’s apartment all night, witnessing absolutely no crimes, I’m sure.  Besides, you wanted me to blow my cover?”
    “No,” Josh shook his head.  “Please go on.”
    “Well, after the hunky boss,” Josh frowned at the eyebrow wiggle “suggested she take a walk on the beach or treat herself to a nice dinner tonight – and yes, I think the with him was rather subtly implied, although I’m not sure your girl picked up on that – rather than ensconce herself by her brother’s bedside, she informed Mr. J. Crew that she had something else to do tonight.  Something about some volunteer work.”
    Josh stroked his chin while he chewed on that information.  He wondered where Sam was volunteering. 
    Then something Chris said struck him as odd.  “You’re calling her boss J. Crew?”
    “Most definitely.  The dude looks like he came out wearing a birthday suit by Christian Dior, if you know what I’m saying.  High class, top of the line – the distinct aroma of old money.  Makes your water stained tie look pretty bad.”
    Josh scowled, and looked at his tie.  He’d paid over a hundred dollars for this thing, dammit.  He looked up to catch Chris grinning.  “Are you just trying to yank my chain again? Does the guy really look like a reject from Monster Garage?”
    “Nope,” Chris said with a twinkle.  “Definitely Harvard, and let me tell you he’s no reject.  If your girl turns him down, maybe she’ll give me his number.”
    “Ha ha.”
    “Yeah, well, a boy can dream.”  With that, Chris slapped his thighs and stood up, nearly snapping the arm off the chair in the process.  “It’s been fun, Josh, but I have to get back to work.”
    “Yeah, me too.  Hey, thanks Chris, really.  I owe you one.”
    “Nah.  We’re square.”  He maneuvered his large bulk past Josh’s desk. 
    Josh barely noticed the other man’s passage, as he was caught up in the puzzle he’d left him.  A well-dressed, moneyed calendar boy working in a dive like The Roadhouse?
    He knew better than to make assumptions based on appearances, but something was definitely off.  He’d check into this Dave or Dane or whatever the hell his name was, and see just what he dug up. 
     
     
    CHAPTER SEVEN
    JOEY Santone sank his knife into the cushion of the ugly-ass sofa, grunting with satisfaction as the fabric gave way.  Reaching in to grope around, he came up with nothing but a handful of