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howled, fists tugging on the sheet as hips and slippery erections undulated together, bringing a wave of pure bliss.
    Brendan lifted his ass off the bed, wanting to keep the contact, maintain the ecstasy even as the blast of pleasure ebbed. As Marc’s sweat soaked body collapsed on top of him, he sighed and eased back down.
    Brendan struggled to catch his breath. When finally he could speak, he laughed softly. “That,” he said, “was by far the best apology I’ve ever gotten.”
    Marc chuckled, his face buried in the side of Brendan’s neck. “ Grazie . My pleasure.”
    Finally peeling himself off of Brendan, Marc got out of bed and disappeared from the room. Brendan sat up, propping himself on his elbows. His eyes had adjusted and he took in his surroundings. A beam of moonlight shone through one window in the corner, falling onto a sturdy, dark wood dresser. To his right was a double door closet. In the corner, a laundry basket.
    He looked up as Marc stepped back into the room. He tossed a towel at Brendan, who caught it. It was warm and wet, and he used it to clean himself up, his eyes locked onto Marc’s naked form across the room as he tugged on a pair of pajama bottoms from the dresser.
    Marc turned and faced the bed, his face shadowy, shirtless in white cotton pajama pants with red stripes. The addition of the PJ bottoms did nothing to hamper his striking image. If anything he looked even more alluring than he had completely naked, like a shiny package to be unwrapped. Already Brendan wanted him again.
    “You have to leave,” Marc said. “Someone is coming by in the morning and you can’t be here.”
    Brendan’s stomach dropped, the hazy euphoria of post orgasmic bliss fleeing like a slapped horse. He ordered himself to remain dignified. He had no right to expect anything from this. He’d wanted to have sex with a stranger. And he had. End of story, apparently. Letting out a long sigh, he sat up, and searched the floor for his clothing. “All right,” he said.
    Marc drifted over and sat on the end of the bed, his chin-length hair draping over his eyes as he stared at the floor. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I wish I could ask you to stay.”
    Brendan glanced at him as he zipped up his pants. “It’s all right, I understand. Who’s coming over?”
    Marc’s head lifted, his pale brown eyes glimmering in the soft moonlight from the window. “My fiancée.”
    Brendan froze, his shirt gripped in his hand. “Your what ?”
     

 
     
    Chapter Four
     
     
    The old woman sitting in Brendan’s office crossed her arms under her ample bosom, her wrinkled jaw tilted upward as she looked him over, seeming to find him wanting. “You look pretty young to be a lawyer. How long you been out of lawyer school?”
    Brendan forced a smile. “Long enough, Mrs. Heffernan.”
    “It’s Miss Heffernan.”
    “I apologize. Miss Heffernan.” He picked up the file folder on his desk, sifting through the pages within. “I’m just trying to get through the preliminaries here. We have an attorney joining our staff in a few days who specializes in injury cases like yours. If we take your case, I’ll be ultimately passing you over to him. He’s older than I am. He even has a few gray hairs, you’ll like him.”
    Her expression soured. “Are you mocking me?”
    “Of course not. Just making a joke. Miss Heffernan, I’ve investigated your claim, and I need to ask you something.” He looked at her, and she narrowed her eyes.
    “Ask me what?”
    “Are you sure you want to pursue this lawsuit?”
    She huffed, shifting her bulky weight. “Course I’m sure. What’s the problem?”
    “I’ve come across with some incidents from your past that may hinder your claim.”
    Alarm flashed in her pale gray eyes, then she regained her composure, jutting her chin out once more. “I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about. Can you take the case or not?”
    “If we take the case, I’ll have to ask for a retainer