“How can he concentrate with this damn wind?” Slanted white sheets of snow continued to hurl themselves against all sides of the building and the sun had forgotten to rise. Jamie refused to entertain the frightening scenario trying to press its way into his brain—the building being blown apart like a toy house made of matchsticks, the three of them buried alive in the icy freeze, each helpless to save the others or himself as nature inexorably reclaimed them in death. He shook his head, trying to dislodge the images. He was overreacting. Brendan was right—this would be over in a few hours. By tomorrow they would be rescued.
Jamie peered through the open door that led from the sleeping quarters into the kitchen. Brendan was sitting at the table, a mug of coffee beside his open laptop, his fingers moving steadily over the keys.
Tuck looked up from his novel at Jamie’s question. “Brendan Aaronson could concentrate in an avalanche. It’s one of the reason’s he’s so productive. He can analyze a hundred pages of data in the time it would take most people to sift through twenty. He focuses like a laser beam. He won’t even hear you talking directly to him when he’s concentrating like that.”
Jamie nodded, thinking of his own work—the pages and pages of notes and raw data heaped in his laptop like a pile of straw that he hoped eventually to weave into gold. Maybe he would work on the outline—distract himself as Brendan seemed to be doing so successfully. He could put on headphones and blast his music, drowning out that menacing, howling wind.
Jamie looked at Tuck, stretched out on his cot, the very pose of relaxed ease. Tuck was tall, taller than Jessie’s six feet, his legs long and muscular, his shoulders broad. Not for the first time, Jamie imagined what it would be like to slide his own bare body against Tuck’s, to feel the rise of Tuck’s cock against his hip as their lips parted for a kiss.
He’d been honored when Tuck had suggested him to fill the assistant research spot, but had to force himself not to assign more meaning to it than there was. The pace was so intense and involved during the course of their research, he hadn’t had a chance to explore any possible interest on Tuck’s side. Maybe once they were rescued he’d consider breaking his own rule about no involvement with colleagues and test the waters.
If they got rescued.
Stop it. Jamie closed his eyes and rolled his head in an effort to relax the twisting tendons in his neck.
Tuck closed his book and stood, moving to the couch. He sat, patting the spot beside him. “Hey, why don’t you sit down, Jamie? You’re pacing the room like a caged lion. It’s going to be okay. Really. We just need to be patient. This structure was designed to withstand these kinds of storms. We’ve got plenty of provisions. We’re warm and safe.”
Jamie moved toward the couch and sat, facing Tuck. “You’re right, I know.” He shook his head. “I keep thinking about the weather back home. About my little cottage by the sea. I can’t wait to get back.”
“Yeah. But think of the great story we’ll have to tell, right? It’ll be headline news.” Tuck waved his hand in the air, as if reading a huge banner hanging there. “Three Scientists Rescued From the Edge of the World.” He turned a devilish smile on Jamie. “And think of the fun we can have while we’re waiting. Why, there’s no end of mischief we could get up to.”
Jamie’s gut turned over, his cock perking to attention. Was it his imagination, or was Tuck making an offer? What about the women he’d seen Tuck with back in California? But then, he’d seen him with guys too. Maybe he went both ways. He recalled the way Tuck had looked at Brendan the night before, the longing palpable in his face. Yeah, there was a pretty good chance Tuck was at least curious, but how far did it go? Did he know Jamie was gay?
It was tempting to find out, but did he dare? They still had to work together back in the States. What if Jamie’s hunch was wrong? Maybe he could work it so any overture on his part could be couched in other terms. Like the old aching muscles gambit. Which in his case wouldn’t even be a lie. He was so tense from the storm, his neck felt like twisted iron. Deciding to go for it, he gripped the back of his neck and winced for Tuck’s benefit.
“You okay?” Tuck’s voice was concerned.
“Me? Yeah. Tense, I guess. Or maybe I slept funny. My neck’s killing me.”
Tuck smiled, white teeth against olive skin. “You’re in luck. I’m known for my killer massage technique.”
Jamie suppressed a smile. So far so good. He crossed his legs to hide the instant erection the offer of a massage had produced. He made sure his voice remained casual. “Okay. I mean, if you don’t mind.”
“Not at all. Take off the flannel shirt, why don’t you. It’s plenty warm in here. Then I can get at you better.” Tuck arched an eyebrow and offered a cocky grin. If there was such a thing as gaydar, it was whirling and flashing like a siren by now. Jamie would have bet money Tuck was gay, or at least bi.
Jamie stripped off his outer shirt, thought about but rejected the idea of taking off his thermal undershirt and turned his back to Tuck. In a moment, strong warm fingers made contact with his shoulders, pressing gently at first, kneading the twisted, aching muscles.
“Man, you’re hard as a rock,” Tuck observed. You referring to my neck or my cock? Jamie came that close to saying it out loud.
Instead he said, “That feels great. Don’t stop.” The strong, deep massage almost hurt, though at the same time it felt wonderful. Tuck moved in closer as he worked. He smelled good, like soap and pine needles. His touch was firm, but also sensual, the pads of his thick fingers gliding over Jamie’s flesh, sending shivers of desire tingling down his spine.
How easy it would be to twist his head just a little and to whisper, “Kiss me.” Would Tuck respond? Something whispered inside Jamie that he would. He dared to lean lightly into the other man’s touch.
“This isn’t going to work,” Tuck abruptly withdrew his hands. Jamie nearly cried out with dismay. Had he been completely off base about Tuck? Was he in fact as straight as an arrow? He bit his tongue and waited for Tuck to announce he couldn’t massage a gay man.
He turned to face Tuck’s decree. Tuck threw him off guard again with an enigmatic smile. “You’re so tense, your muscles are tied in knots from your neck down. The minute I move from your shoulders to your neck, the muscles bunch up again. The only way this will work is if you lie down. We’ll start at the base of your spine and work our way up. That’s the best way to trick the muscles into relaxing fully.”
Jamie stretched out eagerly, nearly weak with relief to have his sudden hypothesis that Tuck was straight refuted, or at least not definitively proven. Tuck shifted beside him, his strong fingers moving confidently over Jamie’s back, easing the skittishness he felt both in body and mind. After a while Jamie felt himself drifting, sliding into a light doze, the blizzard just white noise in the background.
When Tuck’s fingers moved beneath his T-shirt, they sent electric sparks over Jamie’s bare skin. Tuck pressed his palms flat against Jamie’s back, for a moment stroking the flesh with a light, sensual touch. Jamie permitted himself a languorous sigh, imagining Tuck was his lover.
“That’s better.” Tuck continued to stroke Jamie’s flesh. “You were wound up tighter than a spring. You should be careful about holding that kind of tension in your body. It’s not good for you.”
“Mmph,” Jamie managed, sinking blissfully into the cushions as Tuck worked his magic. His erection throbbed. Maybe he’d just roll over, unzip his jeans and complain of the tension building up in his cock. Would the altruistic Dr. Tucker take pity?
Tuck shifted and Jamie felt Tuck’s weight settling on the backs of his thighs. “I can get at your neck better this way,” Tuck offered. “Now that we’ve got your back muscles cooperating.” He leaned forward, draping his hard body over Jamie’s back.
That’s when he felt it. The hard, unmistakable press of an erect cock against his lower back. Jesus H. Christ. Tuck was hot for him. His own cock responded, hardening to a painful degree. With the last six weeks of enforced celibacy, it seemed like forever since another man had touched him.
No straight guy would ever lean over like this for a massage. No way, no way. For a moment Tuck didn’t even pretend to massage him, his hands resting lightly on Jamie’s shoulders, his cock still hard as ever against Jamie’s lower back. Tuck’s scent was in his nostrils, his warm, sweet breath at his neck. He could feel Tuck’s heart tapping against him.
Jamie was afraid to move, afraid he might actually come in his pants if he did. During the six weeks he’d spent in Tuck’s company, he’d held himself under tight rein, not permitting himself to feel the attraction that now rushed over him with the force of an Arctic gale.
He would just twist over beneath Tuck, let his shirt ride up as he moved, pull Tuck down for the kiss he simply had to have…
“There’s still no Internet…oh…” Jamie startled at the sound of Brendan’s voice. Tuck’s hands jerked from beneath Jamie’s shirt, the weight of his warm, heavy body suddenly withdrawn.
Jamie could hear the defensive fluster in Tuck’s tone. “I—I was just giving Jamie a massage. He was really tense with this weather and all.” Was he embarrassed at having been caught lying over another man, his hands beneath his shirt? Afraid Brendan might think he was, heaven forefend, gay? Or maybe the two were lovers, but so discreet even Jamie hadn't guessed.
Tuck’s laugh sounded forced. “He was wound so tight I was afraid he was going to crack in half. Feeling better now, Jamie?”
Jamie rolled over, forcing his face into a neutral, bland smile. “Much, thanks. You have magic fingers.” He watched as Tuck’s eyes slid nervously toward Brendan, his face flushing. Jealousy poked Jamie like a poison dart. Bastard. You were into me. I know you were.
