Adam said thoughtfully, “I was about to say this is more like a luxury resort than a home. You don’t feel cut off here?”

“I don’t miss Portland. Even if I did, it’s only a few hours away. I’ve got friends in Klamath Falls, so sometimes I spend the weekend there. Then there’s the airport in Medford.” Rob shrugged. “I like the peace and quiet. I don’t mind my own company.”

Adam peered more closely at a study of Blue Rock Cove. “These are all yours?”

“Yep.”

Adam threw him a quick, surprised look. “They’re really good. I mean, I’m not an expert, but I think anyone would say these were professional quality.”

“Thanks. It’s not easy making a living as a photographer though. Unless you want to spend your weekends taking wedding pictures.”

“And you like spending your weekends hiking in the mountains.”

“Oh, I like doing other things too,” Rob said with a deliberately wicked grin.

Adam smiled too. Rob thought he looked maybe just a bit unsure. Uneasy? He looked back at the nickel-framed portraits and said, “Black and white.”

“It’s my Ansel Adams phase.”

Adam made a sound of acknowledgement.

Rob suspected things were about to get awkward and he said, “Let me show you the bathroom.”

He led the way upstairs and through his bedroom. The master bedroom was another oversized room, painted in neutral earth tones. There was crown molding around the large picture windows, and drapes in a shade of red Rob would never have chosen, but didn’t want to spend money to replace. Happily, he’d made the bed that morning and had not left underwear lying on the floor.

Adam was silent, and Rob guessed what he was probably thinking. “There’s a shower in the guest bathroom, but the only tub is up here, and I’m guessing after that tumble you’d like to soak in hot water for a while.”

He pushed open the door and enjoyed Adam’s expression. The bathroom was ridiculously spa-like, with oversized heated tiles, wood accents, a giant glass shower big enough for the entire Nearby sheriff’s office, a deep sunken soaker tub next to huge picture windows, and Jack and Jill sinks. The whole shebang.

“That’s…” Adam shook his head.

“I know. Crazy. I’ll leave you to it. You can drop your clothes by the door. I’ll be back with a drink. Gin and tonic okay?”

He didn’t think Adam heard him. Rob backed, closed the door, and went downstairs to make a very strong gin and tonic. When he returned, he tapped politely on the door and opened it.

“You want company in there?”

Adam was just stepping into the tub. He glanced over his shoulder, blushed. “Er…”

He was very nicely hung. No question. A clean-cut straight arrow of a cock jutting from a soft, golden bush. Perfect plum-sized balls nestled beneath. Gorgeous. Rob stopped smiling, stopped admiring, unable to look beyond the ugly black and blue bruises splotching Adam’s torso and ass. “What the—why the hell didn’t you say something?”

“About—?” Adam glanced down at himself. “Oh.” He grimaced. “It’s just bruising. Nothing life threatening.”

“Bruises? You’ve got contusions.”

“I guess. I didn’t even feel them until now. I could do with that drink though.” He sat cautiously down in the hot water and leaned back, wincing. “God. That is…” He smiled up at Rob.

Rob’s heart did an unexpected flip. In fact, it was probably closer to a cartwheel. Something about that unguarded, pointy smile and the way Adam’s green eyes crinkled at the corners. Or maybe it had to do with the width of his shoulders and the length of his neck. Then again, perhaps it was something about Adam sitting uncomplaining for how many hours of briefing and debate after falling off a fucking mountain?

Whatever the hell it was, Rob was sold.

“Here.” He thrust the drink at Adam, and Adam took the glass and drained half of it in a gulp.

“Uh…”

Adam blinked. “You make them strong.”

“I was going to say. But I figure if you’re drinking, have a real drink.” The words were spilling from his mouth. Rob had no idea what he was saying. He was still dealing with this unexpected development in his feelings for Special Agent Darling. Adam.

No. Not a good development.

“I’m not objecting.” Adam tipped the glass in Rob’s direction in a salute and took another long swallow. He closed his eyes and tilted his head back. He had a good profile. Probably too sharp, too sculptured to fit most people’s ideas of masculine good looks, but Rob thought he was, well, beautiful.

Adam’s eyes opened. His mouth curved. “Don’t worry. I’m not going to slip under and drown.”

Rob chuckled, though that casually flung image felt like a punch in the chest. “You’ll miss a nice meal if you do. You have your soak and I’ll start dinner.”

“You don’t have to go to a lot of trouble.” Adam closed his eyes again.

“No trouble.” Rob picked up Adam’s clothes and backed out of the steamy room.

What kind of fool spent his entire life playing the field, and then fell for a guy passing through town? The one guy he couldn’t have, that was the guy he wanted?

That wasn’t only foolish. It was crazy.

Rob tossed Adam’s clothes in the washer. He pulled out chicken breasts and shoved them in the microwave to defrost. Peeled the veggies, dumped them in a pan with olive oil and sea salt.

He poured himself a second drink.

A complete emotional dead end. That’s what he was headed for. Oh, he could probably get Adam into bed again. He would sure try. He could tell Adam was still attracted, still interested. He didn’t want to be. But you always knew. Now sex wasn’t going to be enough. For Rob.

His mouth went dry at the idea of taking Adam. Pushing his cock in Adam’s trim, tight ass and hearing Adam moan with pleasure. Moan and groan and beg him for more.

Maybe tonight.

Or having Adam inside him again. His legs felt weak at the memory.

Yes. Either. Both. Yes. Sex would be…fantastic. And frequent.

But it was only the starting point. Now, for the first time in his life, he was thinking of, longing for all that might—should—come after. Companionship. Caring.

He set his drink down and dug the first aid kit from under the sink in the mudroom. All those cuts and bruises. Brief as his glimpse of Adam’s injuries had been, he’d experienced them viscerally, as though Adam’s pain was his own.

How could that be? He barely knew Adam. Yet somehow it felt like he had known him all his life.

And speaking of Adam, he’d been soaking for about twenty minutes now. Rob jogged upstairs, listened briefly at the bathroom door. Water was running, so Adam was still conscious and alive.

He went back to his dresser and pulled out a clean pair of shorts, jeans, T-shirt, flannel shirt. Green plaid flannel because Adam would look good in that. He liked the idea of seeing Adam wearing his clothes.

Jesus. Christ. Pull yourself together. You do not want to do this.

As he passed his dresser, he caught a glimpse in the mirror, and he looked wild-eyed and alarmed. And speaking of needing a shower…

He tapped on the bathroom door and Adam called immediately, “Yes?”

Rob couldn’t help it. He opened the door, set the bundle of clothes on the long granite counter. “You want another drink?”

Adam’s face was flushed from the steam and his hair was wet and curling in spikes. “Er…sure,” he said. And then, “Yes, why not?”

He held his glass toward Rob, but Rob knew if he walked over there he was going to kneel down and kiss Adam, and even if Adam let him, it was liable to guarantee Adam sleeping in the guest room. So he said, “Leave it. I’ll bring a clean glass. Nothing’s too good for you.”

He said it in a joking tone and Adam laughed. The fact was, Rob meant it.

He went downstairs, got Adam another drink, delivered it with only a minimum of scoping Adam out. Adam’s nipples were rose-brown, all his body hair pale gold, and he had a surprisingly heavy five o’clock shadow. Well, eight thirty o’clock shadow.