ONE
the proposal

JULES CASSIDY WAS NERVOUS.

After years of working for the FBI, nervous didn't happen to Jules very often anymore. At least not in a situation with nary a hostile gunman, armed terrorist, angry insurgent or crazed hostage-taker in sight.

As Jules effortlessly caught a taxi at Boston's Logan Airport, as he settled back in his seat for the stunningly traffic-free ride to the downtown hotel, as the relentless, weeklong autumn drizzle that had plagued the entire east coast from Virginia to Maine finally stopped and the clouds opened in a late afternoon blast of sunlight suitable for accompaniment by a full choir of angels, he had to smile.

His entire impromptu trip north from Washington, D.C., had been a piece of cake—chocolate and practically dripping with strawberry-flavored easy.

Sign from God, anyone?

And yet, Jules was still undeniably nervous.

Some of it was from the taco Jules had grabbed in the airport. God, what a mistake. He'd thrown it away after eating only a few bites, but the portion he'd consumed had become his traveling companion—a lump of lead in his stomach.

Of course, some of what he was feeling came from the adrenaline surge of anticipation at the thought of seeing Robin after too many days apart.

Hey, babe. It's me again. God, I miss you. Call me back. And oh, may I state for the record that this phone-sex thing is no longer novel…?

No kidding.

These past two weeks had been the longest the two men had gone without seeing each other since former A-list movie star Robin Chadwick had gotten out of rehab.

And no, Jules's nerves weren't from worry or fear that Robin had fallen off the wagon. Robin's commitment to his ongoing sobriety was steadfast. Same as his commitment to their still fledgling yet extremely solid romantic relationship.

Yeah, and okay, there was that shifting-of-the-taco twinge of nervousness again. What if Jules was wrong, and it was too soon for this? What if Robin wasn't ready?

What if Jules's last-minute, cancel-all-his-meetings-and-take-Friday-off, spur-of-the-moment, rush-up-to-Boston-uninvited trip came across as needy and possessive? Desperately needy and possessive.

God, he wished there was a thought-vacuum that could suck the unwanted yet still persistently loud voices of cheating ex-lovers from the caverns of one's mind. It had been years since Jules had shared both his home and his life with his ex, Adam, and yet he could still hear the son of a bitch's voice. You don't own me, J., although you'd like to, wouldn't you? You'd like to lock me away…

In truth, Jules hadn't wanted to own Adam or lock him anywhere. But he definitely hadn't wanted to share him, either. And if that unwillingness to share was defined as being needy and possessive, so be it.

It was the desperation that he hoped he could hide today—assuming Adam had been right and Jules was, in fact, desperately needy and possessive. Desperation was unattractive—so cloying, so unpleasantly pathetic. So obvious. You could smell it on a man in about a half-second of face-to-face.

Jules did a quick sniff check of his armpits. But all he could smell was that hideous taco. He definitely had a fantasy going involving a shower in his immediate future. Like, fifteen minutes after he got to the hotel. He'd change out of his FBI costume—as Robin called his collection of conservative dark suits and ties—and into jeans and a T-shirt. And there he'd be when Robin returned from the set. In bare feet and home-from-the-office hair, coated in exactly zero desperation.

It helped to remember that Robin wasn't Adam. Thank you, baby Jesus. Robin truly loved him—quite possibly as much as Jules loved Robin.

"Hey, babe, I got big news." Robin had left Jules a longer message in lieu of his standard brief morning I'm thinking of you voicemail. "Good news. Great news, actually." His expressive voice was laced with even more excitement than usual. Robin's mundane, day-to-day existence registered at a passion level of about fifteen on a scale from one to ten. This morning, however, he'd been up well past twenty and that had made Jules smile. "Art's writing another story arc for my character—they want me back. At least ten episodes this time, maybe even more. They totally love what I've been doing."

Copyright © 2007 by Suzanne Brockmann.