I'll Be Hot for Christmas Read online

  I’LL BE HOT FOR CHRISTMAS

  An erotic interlude with the characters of

  THE ASSIGNMENT

  Evangeline Anderson

  ®

  www.loose-id.com

  Warning

  This e-book contains sexually explicit scenes and adult language and may be considered offensive to some readers. Loose Id® e-books are for sale to adults ONLY, as defined by the laws of the country in which you made your purchase. Please store your files wisely, where they cannot be accessed by under-aged readers.

  * * * * *

  This book contains explicit sexual content, graphic language, and situations that some readers may find objectionable (homoerotic sex).

  I’ll Be Hot for Christmas

  Evangeline Anderson

  This e-book is a work of fiction. While reference might be made to actual historical events or existing locations, the names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Published by

  Loose Id LLC

  1802 N Carson Street, Suite 212-2924

  Carson City NV 89701-1215

  www.loose-id.com

  Copyright © December 2006 by Evangeline Anderson

  All rights reserved. This copy is intended for the purchaser of this e-book ONLY. No part of this e-book may be reproduced or shared in any form, including, but not limited to printing, photocopying, faxing, or emailing without prior written permission from Loose Id LLC.

  ISBN 978-1-59632-398-8

  Available in Adobe PDF, HTML, MobiPocket, and MS Reader

  Printed in the United States of America

  Editor: Karen W. Williams

  Cover Artist: April Martinez

  Chapter One

  Detective Sean O’Brian had finally had enough. It had been a solid month since he and Valenti had gotten any kind of action and he was sick of it. As he pulled his sleek ’82 Chrysler Cordoba into a spot at the Spalding Convention Center downtown, O’Brian reflected that no, it had been longer than a month. Because the last time he could remember getting so much as a kind word, let alone anything else from Valenti was the night before the shooting incident.

  He sighed and ran a hand through his thick, reddish blond hair as he got out of the car. “Damn shame, babe,” he muttered, picturing Valenti’s wounded brown eyes when Captain Harris had assigned him to “administrative leave” until the incident could be cleared through Internal Affairs. It was only supposed to take a week ‑‑ two weeks tops. But those IA bastards were taking their time and O’Brian knew that Valenti had been called in and grilled on at least three separate occasions. Even though several eye witnesses had testified that the junkie Valenti took down had been threatening him and O’Brian with a gun of his own, they still couldn’t let it drop. And until they did, Valenti was a desk jockey and O’Brian was stuck with a new partner ‑‑ a rookie so wet behind the ears O’Brian had the urge to turn him around and look for the apron strings that were surely still attached.

  Valenti had become irritable and depressed. He had also become hyper aware of the dangerous secret he and O’Brian shared ‑‑ the fact that ever since coming back from an undercover assignment at The RamJack, a notorious gay club in San Francisco, their partnership had grown to a whole new level. That they were lovers as well as partners ‑‑ or had been, anyway, before this whole miserable thing began.

  It had been almost a year since they had admitted their feeling for each other and started an exclusive relationship ‑‑ one that was based on mutual respect as much as it was on the white-hot passion that flared between them. It had come as a complete surprise because neither partner had ever been attracted to another man before. But just because he’d never desired another man before Valenti didn’t mean O’Brian found the sight of his tall, dark partner down on his knees taking O’Brian’s thick cock down his throat any less exciting. God, just thinking about it was enough to give him an almost painful hard-on. Now if only he could get his stubborn partner to do something about it, they might be back in business, he reflected as he left the parking area and headed for the convention center.

  Even before they had taken their partnership and friendship to the next level, O’Brian and Valenti had been all over each other ‑‑ always hugging and touching and generally just invading the hell out of each other’s space. It was part of their partnership, part of what they were known for, and it was their easy way around each other that had landed them the RamJack assignment in the first place. But since the shooting incident and the IA investigation that had followed, Valenti flinched if O’Brian so much as touched him in public. In fact, just that afternoon O’Brian had come up behind his partner, who was sitting at his desk doing paperwork and looking tense, and tried to give him a neck rub. Valenti had flinched and pushed his hands away.

  “Get off me, O’Brian,” he muttered, his brown eyes scanning the crowded bullpen to see if any of the other officers had noticed the public display of affection. “We’re in public here.”

  “Yeah, so?” O’Brian plopped himself down onto his partner’s desk, sitting on the paperwork Valenti was working on and frowned.

  “So? So we need to be a little more careful.” Valenti’s voice was low and worried. “A little more discreet. Could you get off my paperwork, please?”

  “No. Look, Valenti,” O’Brian said in what he thought was a reasonably low tone of voice. “We been nothin’ but discreet for the past month. In fact, if we get any more discreet I’m gonna die of blue balls. Cut me a break here, huh?’

  “Keep it down!” Valenti hissed, frowning at him fiercely. “You don’t know who’s listening.”

  “I know I don’t give a damn.” O’Brian began to get angry at that point. For the past month or longer he had been putting up with his partner’s stand-offish attitude and sudden paranoia, but it was getting pretty old, in his opinion.

  “Well I do give a damn whether we flush our careers down the toilet,” Valenti answered.

  “Flush our careers down the ... what the hell are you talkin’ about, Valenti?” O’Brian demanded. “Ya know, up until about a month ago, you and me always used to be all over each other. People talked, sure, but we didn’t care. I mean, even after we came back from the RamJack and people talked even more, we still didn’t care. But now …” He shook his head. “I don’t know ‑‑ it’s like you changed all of a sudden. And I don’t think it’s just the whole shooting thing and the IA givin’ you hell, either. There’s somethin’ else goin’ on in that thick skull of yours. So what gives?”

  “I haven’t changed. And all that ... the way we acted, I mean ... that was before.” Valenti muttered, looking away and refusing to meet O’Brian’s concerned green eyes.

  “Before what?” O’Brian demanded. “Before this shooting thing? Or before whatever it is you’re not tellin’ me?”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Valenti made an effort to get back to his paperwork but O’Brian had his round, firm ass planted squarely on top of it and he wasn’t budging until he’d had his say.

  “Damnit, Valenti, I know things’ve been rough the last month or so but that’s all gonna change. Things are gonna get better. And even if they don’t, I’m here for you, just like always.”

  “Yeah, yeah ...” But Valenti’s prickly exterior looked like it was melting a little. His big brown eyes looked softer and the broad shoulders beneath his crisp, white cotton shirt didn’t look quite so tense. It made O’Brian long to take him back to his apartment and give him a long, slow, sensual massage just as he had when they were
undercover at the RamJack. Just the thought of that, of kneeling over his partner’s long, lean, muscular body while they were both nude as he touched and stroked and kissed until Valenti turned over and begged to be sucked made O’Brian’s heavy cock shift inside the skin-tight pants he was wearing. He seized the opportunity to lean down and whisper into his partner’s ear.

  “’S gonna be all right, Nick. I just want you to know I feel the same way I always have. I still want you. Still need you. And that’s not gonna stop any time soon.” O’Brian used his partner’s first name on purpose, knowing that it got to Valenti like nothing else could. Sure enough, when Valenti finally looked up and met his eyes, it looked like O’Brian’s tall, dark partner was really beginning to thaw.

  “Sean,” he murmured, daring to place one hand on O’Brian’s knee. Just that one simple touch when they hadn’t been together in so long made O’Brian go from half-mast to hard as a rock in a split second.

  “Yeah, babe?” he said in a low, intimate voice.

  “It’s not that I don’t feel the same way,” Valenti said. “I just thought ‑‑”

  “Hey, guys, what’s goin’ on?” The voice of Billy Hicks, O’Brian’s temporary partner cut into their conversation and Valenti pulled his hand away from O’Brian’s knee like he’d touched something hot.

  O'Brian felt like punching the desk in frustration. The first half-way decent conversation he’d had with Valenti in a month and this stupid kid had to break in on it.

  “Nothin,’ junior,” he growled, rounding to face his temporary partner, who was grinning at them uncertainly with an aw-shucks innocence the mean streets of LA hadn’t managed to extinguish yet. He was a cute enough kid in his way, O’Brian supposed, with his farm-raised, corn-fed strapping physique and seven perfect freckles across the bridge of his snub nose. Someday he would make some lucky girl very happy but for now he was driving O’Brian nuts.

  “No, seriously, guys, is everything all right? You looked, uh, really serious so I though maybe we had a new case ‑‑ partner.” He nudged O’Brian playfully who nudged him back, maybe a little harder than was absolutely necessary.

  “Nothin’ going on over here but a personal conversation,” he said pointedly. The last thing he needed right then was to have this numb-nuts reminding Valenti that he was stuck riding a desk while O’Brian was out on the streets without him. But from the look in his partner’s cold brown eyes, it was too late.

  “Actually, I really need to get back to work,” Valenti said, looking pointedly at the spot on his desk where O’Brian’s ass was planted. “Do you mind? I owe the Captain these reports by five.”

  “Why so early?” O’Brian asked angrily. “You been stayin’ here to seven, eight o’clock every night, wearin’ yourself out. Too tired to go out and have any fun. Too tired to …” He trailed off when he realized that both Valenti and Hicks were staring at him.

  “Hey, you guys go out together every night, don’t you?” Hicks said, staring between the two of them. “I heard you two were tight, but, man ‑‑ spending that much time with your coworkers has got to be kind of tiring.”

  “More so lately than usual,” Valenti said through gritted teeth. “Detective O’Brian, would you please move your ass off my desk so I can finish these?”

  “Not until you tell me why you’re wrappin’ it up early tonight,” O’Brian declared stubbornly. “Is it because …” His heart jumped suddenly in his chest as hope flooded him. “Because tonight it’s uh, almost exactly one year?”

  “One year?” Valenti looked at him blankly.

  “Yeah, you know, one year since The RamJack.” O’Brian lifted an eyebrow pointedly. Surely his partner hadn’t forgotten their one-year anniversary, which was coming up on December fifth. It was kind of nice that it was near Christmas, O’Brian mused. Back at the time they had been undercover, they had been too focused on their goal of taking down drug kingpin Vincent Conrad to consider the season. But this year O’Brian was already thinking about what he could get his partner for a present ‑‑ if he remembered to show up for the celebration, that is.

  “Oh, man, I heard about that RamJack thing!” Hicks exclaimed, breaking his train of thought. “Wasn’t that the case where you guys ‑‑”

  “Busted the biggest drug ring in the state?” Valenti interrupted him smoothly.

  “Exactly,” O’Brian said. “So that’s why you’re getting’ off early, right? So we can celebrate?”

  “Not exactly.” Valenti sighed loudly. “I’m going to the Christmas benefit tonight for All Children’s Hospital. Captain Harris asked me to bring the check the Metro PD raised to the chairman of their board and represent the department. Is that okay with you?” He voice dripped sarcasm.

  “Fine.” O’Brian slid off the desk and tried for a nonchalant tone of voice. “So, you bringin’ a date? One of …” He cleared his throat and cast a quick glance at Hicks who was still following their conversation avidly. “One of the girls from the typing pool, maybe?”

  Valenti shot him a glare. “So what if I am?”

  O’Brian just looked at him, unable to keep the hurt off his face. Finally his partner relented.

  “No,” he said sullenly, crossing his arms over his chest. “The Captain only had one ticket. So I’m going solo. Anyway, it’s not like I want to be handcuffed to some good looking bubblehead all night.” Inexplicably his brown eyes flickered up to the uncomprehending Hicks for a second, before shifting back to the paperwork on his desk.

  O’Brian felt a sudden loosening in the muscles of his chest. Thank God Valenti was going solo. Lately he’d been wondering if the extra conflict he sensed within his partner was an attraction to someone else. Maybe another guy on the force. Or even worse, Valenti might have decided to go back to the ladies. There wasn’t much O’Brian could do about that ‑‑ he had the wrong kind of equipment for that kind of competition. Like taking a vaulting pole to a breast-stroke event, he thought wryly. But the way Valenti had phrased it ‑‑ being handcuffed to some good looking bubblehead all night ‑‑ now, that hurt. Was that what he thought of O’Brian now? Wait a minute ... he thought. Being handcuffed ... suddenly an idea was born.

  “So you’re gonna be at the benefit how long?” he asked casually, pretending to study his fingernails. From the corner of his eye he saw his partner giving him a suspicious look but at least Valenti answered.

  “The benefit starts at seven and goes to midnight,” he said shortly. “Satisfied?”

  “No.” O’Brian smirked at his partner. “But I will be, I promise you that, babe. See ya.” And he headed out of the bullpen with Hicks trailing him like a lost puppy dog. Nothing against the kid but O’Brian was going to be damn glad to shake him ‑‑ he was tired of playing babysitter. But until Valenti came off desk duty, he was stuck with him.

  “Hey, Detective O’Brian, it’s too bad Detective Valenti can’t go out with you tonight.”

  “Yeah, too bad,” O'Brian agreed distractedly.

  “Do you wanna go grab a cold one with me instead when we get off?” Hicks ventured hopefully.

  O'Brian looked back to see that Valenti was watching them with narrowed eyes. Thinking it was the perfect opportunity to throw a little dirt on the trail, O'Brian nodded. “Sure, kid. Name the time and place.” Of course when his trainee partner had done just that and he was sure they were clear of Valenti’s sharp hearing, O’Brian shook his head and looked doubtful. “Oh, don’t know if I can make that ‑‑ it’s kinda far for me and I just now remembered I was gonna come in early and do some paperwork tomorrow.”

  “But tomorrow’s Saturday,” Hicks protested. “You never do paperwork on the weekends unless Captain Harris forces you to.”

  “Well, I’m making an exception. Don’t worry about it.” O’Brian patted the kid on the cheek and walked off. Mission accomplished. Now he just had to work out the details of his plan for that night …

  Chapter Two

  The scrape of his tennis shoes against the step
s of the convention center shook the memory of that afternoon at the Metro and brought O’Brian back to the here and now. He hadn’t dressed up for the benefit and he knew he was going look out of place with the ritzy crowd inside but he didn’t care. His skin-tight jeans and T-shirt when everyone else was wearing tails and tuxes was all part of the strategy. Whistling, he made his way through the massive lobby, tastefully decorated in red, green, and gold to the place where the All Children’s benefit was taking place.

  “Sorry, sir, no one’s allowed without an invitation.” The beefy guard at the door of the grand ballroom reminded O’Brian of Conrad’s goons at the RamJack ‑‑ each one uglier than the last and all of them built like tanks.

  “Here’s my invitation.” He shoved his gold detective’s badge under the guy’s nose, pleased as always to see the instant change it engendered.

  “Uh, sorry, officer.” The guard looked sullen now, his authority trumped by O’Brian’s badge. “Go on in. They’re still just doing cocktails, anyway.”

  “As a matter of fact, a cocktail is right up my alley.” O’Brian flashed him a toothy grin and shoved open the double doors to find himself in the middle of what looked like a best dressed contest.

  Women in silk and satin evening gowns and elegant up-dos mingled with men wearing tuxes and bow ties, all of them sipping tall, slender flutes of champagne carried on trays by white-aproned waiters. O’Brian grabbed a flute off a passing tray and downed it in one long swallow, then put it on another tray as a second waiter passed by. Ignoring the confused and disdainful looks he was getting from the well dressed benefit attendees all around him, he began threading his way through the crowd, looking for Valenti.

  It didn’t take him long to see his partner, standing head and shoulders above the other men in the room at the far end of the ballroom. He was standing next to the tastefully decorated Christmas tree, deep in conversation with an older, distinguished looking man with iron-gray hair and serious eyes. O’Brian didn’t waste time looking at the other man though; he had eyes for nobody but Valenti. Standing there cool and distinguished in his fitted black tux, his tall partner looked every inch a rich, refined gentleman, reminding O’Brian again of their time spent undercover when his partner had played “Daddy” to O’Brian’s “boy.” Damn, it had really pissed him off that he had to be the “boy” at first, but he had certainly made the most of the role, tormenting his sexually frustrated partner until both of them lost it completely.