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then I’ll just assume you’re dead and move into your office. You’ve got a better view.”
    I blew him a kiss. “I love you too,” I said sarcastically.
    As he peeled away, I got back in the car with Jordan, feeling strangely excited. I quickly banked the feeling. He was a potential client. Nothing else. I looked down at my cargo pants, glad they were loose fitting. Tell that to my dick, apparently. I sighed and buckled my seat belt, annoyed, as Jordan took the gearshift in hand. He even looked sexy driving. Glad to know my gaydar was still on the fritz.

Chapter 2
     
    I’ D FORGOTTEN how far the Starbucks at Riverwalk was from the parking lot. Not that I wasn’t enjoying walking with the best-looking man I’d seen in a long time. We ambled down the red-bricked street, passing little shops and corner cafés and saying very little—I had taken the proverbial class of small talk and failed miserably. By the fifth block, my teeth were gritted miserably as my leg began to voice its complaints, and I knew I didn’t have long before I’d have to sit down. The damn thing had been a pain in my ass since the accident, and I’d never quite forgiven it for making me quit the force. Although I suppose it could have been amputated, and that would certainly suck. As is, I’d had four months of rehabilitative therapy, and the right thigh was still numb in places and tingly. Of course, by tingly I meant that sometimes I’d get sudden pains like someone had shoved an electric poker up my ass.
    I cast a side look at Jordan. “Hey, where is this Starbucks, exactly?”
    “Not sure,” he said.
    Helpful lad, he was.
    We turned a curve, passing another café, and I swore silently. Soon I’d be limping like a three-legged dog, and I didn’t want to ponder why that bothered me. There were no possibilities here with Jordan—hell, I wasn’t even looking. We were just guys, two guys getting coffee while we discussed business. If one guy noticed how they were the exact perfect height to complement each other, then that was all right.
    I’d never been gladder to see the green awning of the Starbucks and even managed a smile at Jordan as he let me go in front of him. Soon we were at the sugar and cream station, a caramel latte in my hand as I watched Jordan open sugar packets efficiently and dump them into his cup. Grande again.
    “Maybe you’d like some coffee with all that sugar,” I suggested.
    He grinned. “At least I didn’t order that froufrou caramel latte.” After another handful of yellow sugar packets disappeared into his cup, he took a sip and nodded. “Good.”
    “Hey,” I protested, “compared to other Starbucks patrons, my order was relatively simple.”
    “Double skim milk, a shot of french vanilla, and oh, do you happen to have any Truvia? No? All right, then three Sweet’N Lows.” He copied my mannerisms and tone exactly, making me blush. If he’d been my brother, I would have socked him in the arm or at least cuffed his ear.
    “Funny.”
    I pressed my fist into my upper thigh and couldn’t avoid the wince.
    “You all right?” His eyebrow raised in query.
    “Fine.”
    “I noticed you favoring that leg on our way down here.” He paused. “There are chairs right here.”
    Though the Starbucks was overflowing with business, most of the customers were getting cups to go. Only two of the tables were occupied. The contrary part of me wanted to remain standing in case he pitied me. My leg made the deciding choice, as well as his matter-of-fact tone, and I sank into one of the chairs gratefully. Now I really needed a smoke.
    “When did you get injured?”
    “You ask a lot of questions, Channing.” Questions I didn’t feel compelled to answer. I took a sip of my latte.
    “You answer very little, Williams,” he said in a way that made me laugh.
    I dug deep and forced myself to exercise little-used conversational skills. “You from around here?”
    “In the Boca area, actually. Originally from