...Christian turned to go and collided with Babineaux. Without thinking, he caught at the other man to steady himself. Even as his arms wrapped around Babineaux, the Cajun’s arms went around him. For an instant they were face to face, their lips inches apart. Christian inhaled the spicy, piney scent of the other man’s cologne. Heat flared in Babineaux’s eyes. Christian caught his breath. His head moved forward.

Babineaux stepped back. His arms fell away. He lifted his chin, speaking over Christian’s shoulder. “Dere be a good place to eat near?” The Cajun patois was almost untranslatable beneath the suddenly thick accent.

Christian took a breath to bring himself under control. He was trembling after the brief contact.

“Is there—” The woman’s voice broke off in confusion.

Christian half-turned toward her, careful not to touch or look at Babineaux. “Is…” The word came out rough and ragged. He cleared his throat. “Is there a good place to eat around here?” His voice sounded unnatural in his ears.

The woman’s face cleared. “Depends on how fancy you want to get. There’s an A&W and Dairy Queen in town and a couple other hamburger places. If you wan—”

“Dat’s fine.” Babineaux interrupted. “Thank you.”

Christian followed Babineaux across the parking lot. License plates from Canada, New York, Georgia, and Texas were sprinkled among those from Michigan. Their boy could be from any of those states or more. It was like looking for one particular grain of sand on a beach.

He tried not to think about the unexpected embrace. It didn’t work. His body insisted on remembering the pressure of Babineaux’s arms around him. The strength of his thigh as it brushed against his.

Christian fumbled as he fit the key in the lock. He was keenly aware of the man behind him. What was Babineaux thinking?

The door swung open. “Damn,” he whispered under his breath.

The room held a bureau, a TV, chair, and a bedside table, but Christian didn’t see any of them. It was the large bed that captured his attention. Unexpected, erotic images filled his head.

Babineaux, his hair spread against the pillow, his skin flushed with passion, his body arched as Christian moved his mouth lower and lower.

“Something wrong?” Babineaux’s breath was warm against Christian’s ear.

Christian started at the other man’s nearness. “No.” He moved away, hoping Babineaux would put his stiff gait down to the ride. “I wonder where they’ll put your cot.”

“My cot?” Christian didn’t have to turn to know that Babineaux’s eyebrows had gone up. He was familiar with every expression and inflection of the man’s voice. “I don’t think so, bra.”

“I’m not taking the cot when there’s a bed available.” Christian opened the closet, tossed his bag in. He’d only brought jeans and T-shirts. He’d left his suits in his apartment with some relief. At the Foundation and Byrne Academy he represented the Claremont name. He needed to dress and behave appropriately. It was something his father had drilled into Christian as he was growing up. The older man had never given his family name to his illegitimate son, but he had insisted the boy be raised according to his strict standards. The situation had led to tension between Christian and his father, tension and resentment that spilled over to Charles. Eventually all three men had made peace. Now Christian wore the suits in remembrance of a man he’d come to respect, if not admire or love. Here on the road, though, he was going to be himself.

“We could…” Babineaux’s voice and a loud squeak caught Christian’s attention. He turned his head. His throat tightened, as did other portions of his anatomy. Babineaux half-sat, half-lay on the bed, the pillows tucked behind him. His hair tumbled over his forehead, hiding one of his eyes. The other sparkled with mischief. His mobile lips lifted in a smile. “Share.”