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voice was modulated, as free of grumbling and put-upon ire as Nathan had ever heard it. "Are
you going to run out again?"
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Nathan chuckled, suitably chastised by the remark. Lips brushing Gale's neck, he shook his head.
"I don't think I can move, let alone run."
"Good." Gale's arms tightened around him. "But when you can, we're moving this to the
bedroom."
***
Nathan was asleep when Gale's cell phone rang out in the living room.
Shuffling through the darkened bedroom into the too-bright glare of the hall, Gale squinted at the
clock. Ten-thirty, and he was already in bed. Sad.
Okay, in bed with a gorgeous man asleep at his side. That softened the blow.
Ben's number glared at him from the phone's LCD.
"What've you got?"
"Hi Gale, nice to speak to you, too," Ben said dryly. "Sure, I'm having a nice evening, thanks for
asking."
"Yeah yeah, that, too."
Ben sighed loudly enough that Gale swore he felt the phone vibrate.
"DeRossi bought 1215 from a couple called James and Sarah McIntyre. James died a year ago,
and they're not sure what happened to Sarah."
Gale stilled. Naked as he was, the apartment wasn't cold enough to make him fight a shiver.
"McIntyre?"
"Yes. I've asked DeRossi for the last known address for her, since they thought she'd moved out
of town. Someone remembers she had a younger sister, Louisa, so it's possible she moved in with
her after her husband died. All stuff they really shouldn't be sharing with me, of course, but I
pulled a few strings."
Gale grimaced. "What do they want?"
"No competition for whenever that Highway 40 waste ground comes up for sale."
"Ah, didn't really want it anyway. When're they getting back to you?"
"Gale, what's with this obsession? Is that Nathan Oakley sniffing around again?"
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Gale turned, peering into the open bedroom. He could just make out the hallway light casting a
bright beam against Nathan's shoulder, making his hair look like spilled gold against the blue silk
of Gale's sheets.
He looked as though he belonged there, comfortable and settled as a stray who took over an
entire household.
"No."
"They'll get back to me by the end of the week," Ben said. "Until then, I suggest you put this
much dedication into all your other projects?"
Gale made a face at the phone. "Yes, Mom."
"Gale--"
"Look, I'm grateful," Gale said, pre-empting Ben's next statement, which he was convinced
would be a variation of "this isn't like you," No, it wasn't. Neither was allowing anyone this
much access to his domain; no one else looked at home here, not until Nathan.
As if he could feel Gale's thoughts, Nathan stirred slightly, sheets shifting around his hips as he
moved.
"Let me know what they say, okay?" Gale said, shutting off the phone before Ben could reply.
Walking back into the bedroom, he reached the edge of the bed just as Nathan turned over, one
arm flung across his eyes, smile bleary.
"Everything okay?"
"Yeah." Gale sat down on the edge of the bed, leaning down to kiss Nathan softly. "Everything's
fine."
Nathan chuckled, a soft vibration against Gale's lips. "You wouldn't tell me even if it wasn't."
Something about Nathan's perception made something wary and uneasy unfurl in Gale's heart.
Maybe Ben knew him that well, but at least Ben was getting paid for his attentiveness. What was
Nathan getting out of it?
"Yes, I would."
"Liar." Nathan smiled, arms winding around Gale's shoulders, tugging him back into a kiss. "But
that's okay, I know you don't trust me that much."
"It's not--"
Maybe it was for the best that the kiss stole whatever words he'd been about to say. They
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wouldn't have helped anyway.
It wasn't Nathan Gale didn't trust. Lately, it was himself.
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Chapter Eight
"It's so nice of you to come."
The nursing home smelled of antiseptic and resignation. Gale didn't think it was nice at all, and
vowed to make a will that demanded he was taken out back and shot before being foisted off to a
place like this. He wasn't sure who'd condemned Mrs. Sarah McIntyre to this, and perhaps they
had their reasons, but Gale had the urge to break their nose.
The new people at the last good address DeRossi had for Louisa McIntyre had been a little
perplexed when Gale showed up on their doorstep, asking about her sister. After a coffee, some
home-baked cookies, and a half hour of reminiscing later, they came to the conclusion she might
have been taken in at the residential nursing home that lay on a scenic little road out of town.
Forgettable, Gale thought. Better than banishment.
Still, he'd thanked them, accepted another cookie for the road, and taken a chance at dropping by
the home to see if Mrs. McIntyre was still a resident.
"Ah, you know. I was in town and I thought I'd stop by."
"She'll be delighted to see you." The nurse led him through the sterile corridors to Mrs.
McIntyre's room. "Though I should warn you, she's not always quite with us, if you know what I
mean."
I know I'd have you fired for disrespect and insensitivity if she really was my relative.
"Of course," he said instead, as the nurse opened one of the identical doors. "It's to be expected."
"Hello, Sarah!" The nurse yelled so loudly as the door swung open to reveal a chintzy little room
that smelled of old lavender, Gale had to step back. "You've got a visitor!" She patted Gale's arm
and retreated quickly. "The panic alarm is by the bed if you need us for anything in an
emergency.
Gale watched her leave, muttering, "I'd want my dignity back, actually." Bracing himself, he
stepped further into the room.
"Did you hear her?" A voice creaking like old leather spoke from a chair by the window. "Sarah.
Not Mrs. McIntyre. No respect, these children."
Sarah McIntyre didn't seem that incoherent to Gale, and judging from that opening remark, he
liked her already.
"I'll lodge a complaint," he said.
"Ah, no use." Mrs. McIntyre shook her head, thin hair like gossamer fluffing around her head.
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"No one will listen."
"Mrs. McIntyre, I'm Gale Solomon." Gale stepped a little closer, maintaining a respectful
distance. "I'm a property developer and--"
"No."
"Excuse me?"
"I said no. The house isn't for sale," Mrs. McIntyre said. "My Jimmy is going to fix it up for
when I get home. We're not selling."
Gale reconsidered the coherence, but he still liked the defiance.
"No, it's nothing like that. Actually I was just wondering if you remembered some neighbors of
yours, the Oakleys?"
Mrs. McIntyre looked up, watery eyes set back in vellum thin skin the reminded Gale of crinkled
shopping bags. The look in her eyes, however, was shrewder than some of his investors.
"Why do you want to know?"
If that wasn't a side step, Gale didn't know what was. He'd have been proud of that one himself.
"I ran into Elizabeth Oakley's grandchild, and since there wasn't much information about the
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