Antiques by Bailey Bradford
Book 2 in the Intrinsic Values series
General Release Date: 10th August 2021
Word Count: 53,479
Book Length: NOVEL
Pages: 214
Genres:
CONTEMPORARY,EROTIC ROMANCE,GAY,GLBTQI,THRILLERS AND SUSPENSE
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Book Description
Elliot Douglas lived his life on the sidelines—until Drew Harrington smashed front and center into it…
Since rebuilding his life, Elliot Douglas has led a quiet existence, hiding behind a routine and the old-fashioned clothes and behavior that make him seem older than his early forties. Now he’s taking one step at a time toward creating a more fulfilling life…one in which his sexual needs to submit are met.
However, baby steps are left behind when he meets Detective Andrew Harrington.
A driven—some say obsessed—Scotland Yard detective, Drew lives by compartmentalizing, focusing on his work and, as a Dom, enjoying BDSM sex as a stress relief. On the track of stolen paintings, he’s traced them to San Antonio, where he’s distracted from the case by an infuriatingly handsome antiques trader who’s not as predictable or fuddy-duddy as he wants the world to think.
Intrigued, Drew’s drawn to that mystery as much as the one he’s there to solve, which blindsides him.
Elliot and Drew’s attraction is instant, and their feelings strong, especially when Drew poses as Elliot’s boyfriend to infiltrate the local antiques scene. But nothing is what it seems—not the case, not Drew…and not even Elliot. With deception all around them, what hope do two men unused to trust and commitment have of a relationship?
Reader advisory: This book contains a scene of on-page stabbing, assault and the threat of sexual assault.
Drew walked down the short flight of steps leading to Judy’s Martini Bar and cast his eye over the patrons inside, those sitting around the tables and up at the bar that ran almost the length of one wall. The thud of disappointment he got when there was no sign of Elliot told him how much he’d been hoping to see him.
You don’t know anything about the guy. That being the case, he had no idea if Elliot would take Drew up on his invite. Maybe this place, with its stylish nineteen-forties vibe, would bring him here, if nothing else?
Had asking him here been the wisest move? Probably not. He’d wanted to talk to him—needed to—but the way Elliot had reacted and behaved had intrigued and attracted Drew. That and the man’s looks, his slightly long, thick mane of brown hair, starting to silver, springing back from a high forehead, and his tawny-brown eyes. He’d been thinking about him since…and checking up on him too. Everything about Elliot Douglas had captured Drew’s attention.
Well, if he didn’t show, there’d be plenty Drew could occupy himself with in this place…including the couple of staff who were catching his eye, signaling that there were vacant stools in their sections of the long bar. Drew walked farther along to a spot with a few unoccupied seats next to one another and took one. If Elliot did show, they’d have a little privacy. The bartender gestured, indicating that he’d be with Drew in one minute. Drew took out his phone, thinking to do a little more checking up, when a presence at his side had him turning his head.
Elliot stood there, as handsome and as formally dressed as he had been at the fair and looking just as reserved. It made Drew itch to strip away his layers—literally and figuratively. Drew stood, and gestured to the stool next to his for Elliot to sit. “I’m glad you came,” he said, meaning it.
“I…” Elliot hesitated, and Drew knew whatever he said wouldn’t be what he’d been thinking, making Drew burn to know his true thoughts. “Had no way to contact you and say I wasn’t.”
“True.”
“And I don’t know your name.” Elliot settled himself on the stool, looking as though he wished it were a more traditional chair, with a back and armrests.
“Andrew Harrington. Drew to my friends.” He leaned in and held out his hand. Elliot’s was soft but his grip more athletic than might be expected. No—he was in good shape. His well-cut suit and vest showed that.
“Drew.” Elliot tried out the name. “I’m Elliot Douglas. Well, you know that.”
“You were thinking of not coming?”
“I…don’t get to this area, north of downtown much.”
To the gayborhood. Drew liked the careful answer. Again, it felt like a challenge. Not that Elliot was playing coy, or hard to get—more that Drew would have to put the work in. That he shouldn’t be doing this crossed his mind again. He had more than enough going on at the moment and no time for distractions. Tough. For this man he thought he’d make time. His co-workers would be amazed, as would Ash, who would also be furious.
“Well, this bar caters to all sorts.” He lowered his voice. “So are you salty or sweet?”
“E-excuse me?” Elliot spluttered.
“Spicy or sour?” Taking pity on him, Drew indicated the signs behind the bar that boasted of the range of martinis Judy’s offered. “Or there’s ‘strong’ too.”
“They all seem strong to me,” Elliot commented, watching a barman pour hefty measures from two bottles of spirits, one in each hand, into a shaker.
“If I may…” Their bartender popped up in front of them. “I’m Shayne and I’ll be your server tonight.” He poured small glasses of water for them with one hand and was holding small leather-bound books in the other. “In my experience, you seem sweet.” He winked as he handed Elliot the menu. “And you, sir, are spicy.” He went to pass Drew a menu, but Drew’s arched eyebrow stopped him. “Hmm. Sour, perhaps?”
“I probably would like a sweet one, but…” Elliot flicked through the too many pages holding too much information.
Drew leaned close, near enough to detect the sandalwood and floral of Elliot’s cologne. The scent was sweet yet had a backbone, a bite to it, and Drew’s cock twitched in response. A glance down at Elliot’s lap showed he was stiffening, too.
Elliot didn’t draw away but stilled, his eyes on the handwritten names and descriptions, although Drew doubted he was taking anything in about s’mores-flavored or strawberry-shortcake martinis. He wanted to get his hand to Elliot’s chin and turn his face so Elliot looked into his and read the desire in them, but stopped himself. Elliot wasn’t quite ready for that. “Nothing that takes your fancy?”
“It’s all a little new to me.” Elliot raised his eyes from the page. “I must confess I’m a creature of tradition. Of habit. I tend to stick with what I know.” He shrugged, as if in apology for being boring.
Drew didn’t find him boring. More like arousing. He’d rarely had such an instant and strong reaction to anyone. “Would you like me to let you in on the secret to being in a new place and having to face choices in it?”
“Yes.” Elliot’s eyes gleamed a rich tawny shade that captivated Drew. He stared into them and watched the pupils dilate. Elliot dry-swallowed, and Drew jerked his chin at Elliot’s glass of water.
Elliot took it and sipped, his Adam’s apple bobbing. Fuck, he was sexy, especially because he kept it low-key, almost concealed. “So, the secret.” Drew crooked a finger, and Elliot moved automatically nearer. “Go with the house choice. In this case, the drinks of the day.”
“That’s it?” Elliot took a second to process, then a tiny smile had his well-shaped lips curving. Christ, but Drew wanted to see them stretched around his cock. “So the sweet martini of the night is…”
“A lemon drop.” Shayne already had the lemon vodka in one hand. “And today’s spicy is the serrano chili pepper margarita martini.”
Drew thought it sounded revolting. “Seems I’m sour. So, a dirtytini, please.”
Drew’s dirty martini, a mixture of top-shelf vodka and olive brine with real olives, complemented Elliot’s choice, something Drew took as a good omen. The drinks were served in large, dangerously close to overflowing glasses, and Drew handed over a bill, telling Shayne to keep the change. The size of the tip told the bartender Drew would rather be left alone until he signaled otherwise.
“So, cheers.” He tapped his glass to Elliot’s, and they both drank. “The bar has a forties’ gangster film feel, doesn’t it?” he commented. “Movie, I mean.”
“Oh, I speak British,” Elliot replied, his wit amusing Drew. “My great-grandfather was from England, and my grandfather was English until the end.”
“So you sound like him?” Drew swirled his martini and took another hit. “You don’t have quite the same accent as everyone else here.”
“No, I’m not a Military City native.” Elliot took another sip. “What about you? What brings you here?”
He had to admire Elliot’s deflection. “Business…and pleasure.”
Elliot dropped his gaze and that natural submission had Drew’s balls tightening to the point of pain. He had a gut feeling Elliot was on the same page as him, and Drew usually played his hunches. He did now, doing what he’d wanted to earlier in reaching out to take Elliot’s chin to raise his face to his. “Elliot. We could sit here, have another excellent martini, or I could tell you right now how strongly I’m attracted to you and how much I would love to spend the night with you.”
Keeping his hold gentle, with no force in it, he nevertheless didn’t let Elliot shy away. “I’m staying here at the hotel.” Elliot must know there was a hotel above the bar. Drew stroked Elliot’s lower face as he let him go. “I feel we have compatible tastes, don’t you? You don’t have to speak. A nod is fine.”
Elliot’s full focus on Drew, he nodded, then a complex look crossed his face. “I don’t usually do…things like this. This…”
“Isn’t your first time?” Drew tried to get a read on him, to help him.
“No.” Elliot’s voice took on a scoffing note, making Drew raise an eyebrow at his bratty tendencies. “I mean, this sort of thing. This kind of…situation.”
“But you want to.” Drew made it a statement and received a nod in reply. Maybe Elliot had been in a long-term relationship and was now getting back in the game? Or was shy? Or needed…direction? And damn if that didn’t have Drew’s cock straining. “Then I’ll tell you what’s going to happen. I’m going to finish my drink, then get up. If you would like to explore what’s between us, do the same.”
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Bailey Bradford
A native Texan, Bailey spends her days spinning stories around in her head, which has contributed to more than one incident of tripping over her own feet. Evenings are reserved for pounding away at the keyboard, as are early morning hours. Sleep? Doesn’t happen much. Writing is too much fun, and there are too many characters bouncing about, tapping on Bailey’s brain demanding to be let out.
Caffeine and chocolate are permanent fixtures in Bailey’s office and are never far from hand at any given time. Removing either of those necessities from Bailey’s presence can result in what is known as A Very, Very Scary Bailey and is not advised under any circumstances.
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