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"Nope. That's gonna be Saturday. We changed it because Morgan has plans to take Blayne out. You seem to know the weekly movie night schedule better than I do. The kids are always having to remind me when and where it is." Paxton smiled.

Windsor watched the smile that he wanted under his lips and made a decision.

"I remember when it concerns someone I've come to care for." Windsor was surprised his voice had deepened, and by how much he really meant what he'd said.

Paxton paused, glancing up at him. His expression was startled, shocked, then his eyes narrowed. Windsor leaned against the open stall door, waiting for him to work it out. He could see when it dawned on Paxton. He lowered the brush out of Ra's mane.

"I'll be damned. You've been courting me," Paxton accused.

"Yep." Windsor didn't see any need in denying it.

"I haven't been courted since..." Paxton trailed off and his eyes became shadowed with pain.

Windsor figured he was thinking of his deceased husband, Adam. He knew the basics-that Paxton's partner had died almost six years ago.

"I'm a forty-five-year-old man, Windsor. Too old to be courted. You don't want me. Is that why you became my friend? To get close to me to...? What the hell do you want?" Paxton demanded.

"I know how old you are, Paxton. I was there at your birthday party. You could be a hundred and two and not be too old for courting. Everyone should feel the centre of someone's attention. I'm thirty-five, Paxton, and old enough to know what I want. I'm not your friend to just get close to you. I wanted to get to know you. I'd still find you intriguing, Paxton, and I want to be your friend," he stated firmly, then lowered his eyelids. "Being attracted to you happened instantly. And I can't...no... I don't want to shake the feeling you invoke in me."

Paxton gulped, then asked quietly, "What feeling?"

"I think about you often, Paxton. Enjoy our conversations. And look forward to when I can next see you. I find that I can't seem to keep you out of my mind. And I like the feeling. I want to explore what I feel between us." Windsor closed the distance between them as he spoke.

He was standing a hairsbreadth away from Paxton by the time he had finished speaking. Windsor could smell him. Paxton's scent was man, sweat and horse all blended together to make Windsor want to lay him down and fuck him. But Windsor held the need in check. He hadn't come this far to spook Paxton. And he could see that Paxton was rattled by the way he held himself. If Windsor made one gesture, Paxton would back off and run.

Paxton's jaw clenched and he stepped back. "I-"

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Roarke seemed surprised he was dressed. Niall viewed Roarke's typical, casual clothing-jeans and a T-shirt with sneakers on his feet. The shirt hugged his chest, and the jeans his thighs. Roarke didn't speak, just held out a cup of coffee. Niall took the cup, then placed it on the entry table.

Niall grabbed the front of Roarke's shirt and kissed him. Roarke went stiff, then relaxed into the kiss. Niall swept his tongue inside his mouth, learning the taste of Roarke, who opened wide to accommodate his seeking. Niall explored his mouth, licking and sucking in his taste. Niall released him from the kiss. Roarke's chest rose and fell as he breathed deeply. His eyelids fluttered, and his amber eyes came into view. They were more of a smoky colour.

"Well. Last week's coffee didn't get that reaction." Roarke chuckled.

"Coffee can get me going, but that's not what it is," Niall said.

"Care to enlighten me?" Roarke put his index fingers into the loops of his pants, rocking back on his heels.

"After two weeks of your being underfoot, I'm actually considering giving you a chance. Gloating will get you nowhere," Niall said coolly.

"Ahh...that sexy, cool tone. You know what that does to me." Niall could see Roarke was watching his lips.

Niall stared at Roarke's face, filled with need, and he moved at the same time Roarke reached for him. Niall gripped the back of his neck, kissing him hungrily. Roarke's strong arms curled around him, holding him tightly. Niall moaned into their kiss, moving his lower half against Roarke. Roarke's groan vibrated into his mouth as he shifted forward, manhandling Niall's body. Roarke lifted him in his arms and Niall wrapped his legs around Roarke's hips. Absently, Niall heard the door slam as Roarke carried him in the direction of the living room.

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He lifted the receiver, propping it on his shoulder, starting to type again as he said, "I painted a bullseye on my chest, went outside, then shook my ass, taunting the shooter to come get me." He stopped typing. "Hmmm...maybe that can work in a book."

"It would be better to do that in fiction than reality," a deep baritone said.

That voice. Although he had heard it only once, he recognised it. Evan lifted his head, dropping the phone from its perch. He winced as it clattered to the desk. He picked it up.

"Shit. Sorry...the phone fell." He breathed deep as he continued. "You're absolutely right. I would never do that in reality, Detective. Probably not in a book."

"Not Detective. We did away with that formality. It's Ian. Why probably not in a book?"

"Because my main protagonist would not go for that."

"Then make it a wacky sub-character. Someone that your main character would look at and wonder, -˜What the fuck?'" Ian stated.

"You know, that could work. Even down to the 'What the fuck?'. You seem to know my main protag. Have you read my books?" Evan held the phone firmer.

"No, I haven't. But my research for the case included some about your writing."

Evan was disappointed that he hadn't read them. "Do you like mysteries?"

"When they're written close to the way things are done."

"I try to do that. I'll send you some of my books," Evan said.

"That isn't necessary, Evan."

Evan didn't reply either way, changing the subject. "I'll use the bullseye thing in my new book. It's going so well. Getting shot at seems to be great inspiration." He laughed.

"Tell me what you're writing about. Or is that top secret while you're working on it?" Ian asked.

He hesitated. Usually, while he was writing, he didn't share his plot with anyone...aside from Danny. His heart ached at how he missed that. Ian spoke again.

"I understand. I-"

Evan interrupted him. "No, that's okay. It's just been a while since I've done that." He cleared his throat, then told Ian what he was writing.

Evan stood as he spoke. He went to his bookcase and pulled out the hardcover editions of the first six books in the series. He always had extras. He placed them on the side table in his home office and wrote a note for his assistant to mail them to Ian at the police station. Grabbing the card Ian had given him, he clipped it to the paper so he had the address. Evan sat again, relaxing back into his seat. He enjoyed Ian's insights into his plot. Evan glanced at the time, realising they had been talking for almost an hour.

"Sorry. You should have told me to shut up. When I get going about my stories, I tend to keep going."

"No problem. I was enjoying it. Sounds like you do keep things close to reality," Ian said.

"I try. Thanks for listening to me. Maybe I'll pick your brain for some of my research."

"Pick away," Ian offered.

"Be careful what you agree to. I can go on for hours."

"We can keep talking as long as you'd like. I'm home for the night. I can't promise to not start snoring in your ear." Ian laughed, a warm sound.