Chapter 1

1

Meeting a potential client for the first time was usually a mixed bag. As a contractor and partner in Behr Construction, I never knew what I was going to get: a fanciful dreamer, an actual customer, or a combination of both.

So I was surprised when I opened the door to the gutted restaurant and found a giant of a man twirling Julie Andrews-style. He was grinning like a loon as the light poured over him.

That should have been laughable since he was alone, but he was kickass savoring the moment. Instead of appearing loco, he struck me as a big overgrown Peter Pan. He looked so happy, I had an urge to join him, which gave me a moment of panic because I’m not an old boy who does much dancing or cavorting—in public or in private.

“Uh, hello? Mr. O’Shea?”

When he turned toward me, my jaw dropped. I’m sure I musta looked like the village idiot.

The guy was unbelievably gorgeous. I don’t usually think men are good- or bad-looking. They’re men. Before that moment, I would have said men weren’t my type. But, damn! He was smoking hot.

He looked about my height—six four or maybe a little taller—and was dressed in a classy three-piece suit with a gleaming tie tack, had one pierced ear, and wore a sparkling watch. His dark hair stood up in a tall buzz cut in front and tapered long enough to curl around his ears in back.

But what stopped me and turned me to jelly were his wickedly merry eyes and his shit-eating grin.

He acted like a kid who’d found Santa or the Easter Bunny.

In the middle of the total disaster of the old Thompson’s steak house, this guy looked like he’d hit the jackpot.

Fuck me. I’d come to a standstill and was staring at him openmouthed. Since I’m your basic laid-back good old boy, nothing usually bothered me. Now I was poleaxed. He was bewitching. Too hot for somebody like me to handle.

He’d stopped spinning. Without missing a beat, he strode over to me with his hand held out. In the blink of an eye, he changed from the picture of kidlike excitement to a polished city businessman.

I stood stock still, wondering what the hell had just happened. Had I hallucinated the twirling around? Maybe it was time to get away from work for a while, take a vacation, maybe go do some fishing.

“Isn’t this place great?” he greeted me. His voice held a leftover tinge of joy.

He didn’t look embarrassed or bothered that I’d caught him dancing around like an ass. Up close, he was even more powerfully sexy and self-assured. Face-to-face, his lively, assessing stare unnerved me. His unbridled enthusiasm wrapped around and lifted me off my feet.

The guy seemed to be pulling my personality and soul toward him as he decided whether I was friend or foe. Then he grinned even wider, stuck his hand out farther, grabbed mine, and shook like we were on the verge of bonding. Why did I find this move hot as fuck?

I shook his hand, stunned, and almost wanted to run back to the alley, where I’d left my regular, easygoing self.

His eyes brightened and his smile turned sexy, as if he’d discovered a delightfully lascivious secret.

“Mr. Behr? May I call you Ben? I’m Mitchell O’Shea. Call me Mitch.” He squeezed my hand one more time, then dropped it. “Great space here. I’m going to buy it.”

His hand swept up in an extravagant Vanna White gesture. I was about to tell him he couldn’t afford a vowel, much less a remodel, when he grinned and sucked me in again.

Fuck. Oddly, my body agreed with that sentiment. Why was this happening? To me, of all people. I wasn’t gay. Even a little bit.

My brothers, Abe and Connor, had come out a while back, but everybody knew I was the straight Behr. I’d been dating girls since I was twelve (but looked sixteen). I wasn’t attracted to guys. Ever. I didn’t go for tall girls, especially ones as huge as me, so why was I attracted to a big man?

I stepped back and gave him the once-over. My body sure as shit was a little interested. Okay, maybe more than a little.

Like all the Behrs, I’m tall and squared off. As my grandpa always said, I’m built like a brick shithouse. A brown brick shithouse. Brown hair, brown eyes, brown tan. Nothing exotic about me.

But this guy? This guy had dark blue eyes flecked with light blue and green. His big body was lithe, with a tapered torso, and he moved like a dancer. He hit me like a gorgeous morsel of urban life. Somebody polished and sophisticated except for a patch of boyish fun. His smile was so engaging, I figured my friends would even like him.