There was a gap in the blackout curtain and a single beam of desert sunlight was streaming in, lighting up the whole room.

Eli groaned and rolled over, reaching out for a pillow to pull over his face.  He'd been having the best dream.

Catching sight of the clock, he cursed.  His alarm was going to go off in ten minutes.  He flopped over on his back, glaring at the sheets tented over his half-hard cock.  His dream was already trickling away in favor of the hum of the air conditioner and the feel of expensive sheets.  There had been a lot of muscle in it, which made him think it had been about one of the other boxers.  That was unusual because Eli had never been drawn to the overly competitive guys in his profession.

Had it been Alexei?  Eli grimaced.  The Russian was a good friend, but his preferences for dominant bed partners made them very incompatible.  And why had there been steaks in his dream?

Muscular arms flashed in his head and Eli felt a flash of heat race down his spine hard enough for his cock to twitch.  Too tan, he realized; it definitely wasn't Alexei.  His stomach grumbled, and he sighed.  A mystery for the ages.

Reaching for the sheets, he froze.  Steaks.  The alpha from last night.  Falling back on the bed, Eli stared at the ceiling and wondered how he could have forgotten.  The guy had been the kind of unassuming hot that superheroes must be when they're incognito as their mild-mannered alter egos.  He'd been put together, but not the kind of ostentatious that Eli usually saw in the ringside seats.  It made sense if he hadn't been the one to buy the pass; those things weren't cheap.

He'd been seriously hot though.  Eli wondered if he'd see the guy around the casino.  He'd been friendly with the security guys, so maybe he worked there.  Shaking his head, he groaned and sat up, ignoring his traitorous body.  He had work to do.

By the time he was done brushing his teeth, he'd calmed down enough to pull on his workout shorts and a thin shirt.  The shirt wouldn't make it long, but Kim got huffy when he wandered around without one.  There was a small table just outside his door and his protein shake was waiting there.  He downed it quickly, the strong mint from his toothpaste drowning out the absolutely disgusting flavor of the healthy, nutritionally glop.  He'd been having the same thing for breakfast for years, but it didn't actually get any better.

When he'd first started boxing, he'd hated the things, choosing to have a real breakfast instead.  Within months, he'd gotten tired of eating and eating and still getting hungry halfway through his workout.  He'd tried different brands, but they were all the same.  He'd tried different flavors, which was an absolute mistake.  It had been Alexei who had told him about the mint thing, actually.  The Russian had seen him drinking one and been horrified.

"Crazy American," he'd said, his accent even thicker in those days.  "This first."  He'd practically shoved a mint into Eli's mouth, setting his sinuses on fire.  He hadn't tasted a bit of the shake after that.

Setting the cup down with a grimace, Eli shook his head.  One of these days, he was going to buy up some company and make his own brand, and he wouldn't rest until it didn't taste like swamp sludge.

The clock on the main floor chimed the hour and he headed downstairs before Natalie got irritated with him.  There was a uniformed security guard sitting on the couch, same as the last few days, and Eli waved as he went by.  He had a couple of things he wanted to run by Kim about merchandising.  The roller derby jacket that Alexei had signed last night had given him an idea.

He was only half awake, so it wasn't until he was almost to Kim's door when his brain processed the fact that the guy on the couch was the alpha from last night.  Eli turned around, convinced his mind was playing tricks, only to find the guy staring openly at his ass.

Glancing up with a wink, the guy didn't even have the grace to look ashamed at being caught.  He had one foot propped up on his knee, his uniform pants stretched tight across his crotch, and his hands placed to frame his thighs and make sure Eli looked.  Eli tried not to, but it was not a fight he really wanted to win.

There were more important things to think about.  "What are you doing here?" he asked, glancing around like he'd find the real security guard tied up in a corner somewhere.

"Eli, you're up.  Great."  Kim came striding out of her room, phone in one hand and a stack of papers in the other.  "Sgt. Harris, this is Eli Thompson.  Eli, Van Harris.  He's taking Wilson's place on the security team."  She breezed through without looking up, already going full speed for the day.  "Natalie arrived already, and she's waiting for you downstairs," she added over her shoulder as she disappeared out the door.

Usually, Eli was used to his publicist's manic pace, but it was too early in the morning today.  Left gaping in her wake, Eli turned to Sgt. Harris and gestured blankly.  "You're a cop?"

"Las Vegas Police," Van confirmed, getting smoothly to his feet and holding out his hand.  "Pleasure to meet you."

No wonder the guy was so fit.  Eli held his hand out on autopilot.  It was a mistake.  Van's hand was warm and firm, a little rough in a couple of patches, but only enough to add to the appeal.  Eli stared at where their skin touched, his dark complexion highlighting the other man's golden tan.

Tearing his eyes away, he found himself tracing the line of Van's shoulders in that uniform.  Now that he was looking, he could see the LVPD patch on one shoulder.  He couldn't imagine why he'd confused him for one of the casino's security guards; that uniform was professionally fitted.  Even as he watched, Van took a deep breath, straining the buttons on the front a little.  Eli had the sudden desire to open those buttons with his teeth.

Jerking his hand out of Van's, he turned away, rubbing his neck.  "I should go work out."

"Sounds good," Van said.

Eli turned to tell him that he didn't have to come along, only to catch Van staring at his ass again.  "You go first," he said firmly, crossing his arms and glaring.

Van chuckled.  "If you insist."

That was also a mistake, Eli realized when he got a good look at the cop's backside.  The uniform was just as fitted in the back, and Eli couldn't decide where to look.  Van's shoulders were broad and muscular, but not overly muscled like the boxers Eli knew.  He had just enough over the top to smooth the harsh edges and make Eli's hands itch to run over his skin.

They came to a stop in front of the mirror, and Eli dragged his eyes off the way the fabric hugged those strong thighs to meet Van's amused gaze.

"What floor?"  Van crossed his arms and thrust one hip out.

Eli had to clear his throat before he could reply.  "Six."

The elevator arrived and Van waved at Eli to go first, positioning himself in front of the doors.  With all the reflective surfaces, Eli didn't have much of a choice but to stare at the sexy cop in front of him.  Van knew it, winking at him as he pushed the button for the sixth floor.

Casting about for a topic of conversation, Eli remembered his dream.  "Did you make it over to the steakhouse last night?"

"No, but I've got it on my list now, so I'll hit it up soon.  Thanks for the recommendation.  I like a man who knows his meat."  Van smirked as Eli burst out laughing.

"That was terrible," he said as the elevator dinged.  "Absolutely terrible.  Do lines like that actually work for you?"

"You'd be surprised."

"I don't think I would," Eli said, leading the way to the private gym that the casino had set up for visiting athletes.

Van shrugged.  "Okay, so maybe you wouldn't.  My point is that it's got to work eventually."

"It really doesn't."

Natalie was waiting for him, and her eyes narrowing as she took in Van's presence.  Small as she was, a lot of fighters misjudged Natalie, but Eli knew better.  "Warm up," she said curtly, and walked over to stare up at Van.  "You, by the door.  Do not go making trouble in my gym."

Van stared at her for a moment, his eyes widening in surprise.  "Sir, yes, sir," he said finally, then tucked himself into the space between the door and one of the weight benches.

Chuckling under his breath, Eli started his stretches.  Growing up as an omega who was too tall, too strong, too stubborn, and just generally too big, boxing had been an escape for him at a young age.  Workouts were a time when he could bring his mind into focus and his body under control.  In this room, he wasn't some kid with too much knee and elbow knocking things off the shelves in the grocery store.  He wasn't the one the teachers skipped over because a kid his size would never be anything but a thug.  He wasn't the kid who was too poor to get new clothes just because his got a little too short.  When his heart got pumping, Eli was the Champion, and he loved that feeling.

He could feel Van's eyes on him as he started in on his push-ups.  Shaking his head, he started counting again, pushing the feeling out of his mind.  When he switched to sit-ups, he found himself staring straight at Van at the top of each sit.  Cursing, he closed his eyes and tried to remember what number he was on.

By the time he made it to the treadmill, Natalie was fuming.  He'd taken twice as long today as his last workout, and they both knew exactly why that was.  The mirror in front of the treadmill looked at nothing but blank wall, thankfully, so Eli made it two miles into his run in peace, slipping into that meditative state where nothing could affect him.

At the two-and-a-half-mile mark, he reached for his bottle of water and realized that Van had moved.  Seated on the weight bench directly behind Eli, he had his legs straddling the bench and his hands in his pockets.  The fabric stretched tight across his crotch made Eli miss a step, and it took him four strides to get his rhythm back.

If Van hadn't been doing it before, he had definitely noticed that little slip because he leaned back on the bench and crossed his arms with a smirk.  Closing his eyes was out of the question, so Eli tried to focus on the treadmill's display panel, but he couldn't find his stride again, having to slow down a few minutes later when he got a stitch in his side.

"What are you doing?" Natalie said, stalking over and glaring.  "You don't get to slack off today just because you won that fight yesterday.  Especially not after you dropped your guard like that in the second round."

Turning to walk backward for a little while, Eli smiled charmingly at her.  "Aw, come on, Natalie.  I can't just beat the crap out of the guy without letting him get any hits in."

"Yes," she said, her jaw muscle twitching.  "You can.  Double distance today."

Eli groaned.  Ten miles was way more than he was expecting when he woke up that morning.  "Natalie," he whined.

"Eli," she retorted, stretching his name out the way she did when she was complaining about him in Spanish.  Behind her head, Van coughed into his fist.  "And you," she said, spinning on him.  "Don't think I don't know how much of this is your fault."  She stalked over to him and glared.  "Either make yourself useful or get out of my gym."

Turning back around to hide his smile, Eli watched in the mirror as Van raised his eyebrow at her.

"Make myself useful?" he asked, crossing his arms.  Eli could have told him that trying to intimidate Natalie was a waste of time.

"You cops do more than chase donuts, yeah?  Get your ass on a treadmill or go away.  I don't have time for you handsome guys."  Natalie pointed at the second treadmill imperiously.

Van glanced at Eli, their eyes meeting in the mirror.  Eli shrugged.  When he'd hired Natalie, her only requirement was that in the gym,he followed her rules.

"You think I'm handsome," Van said, his voice teasing.

Natalie snorted.  "Like you don't know," she said, stabbing her finger at the treadmill.  "On or out.  You can run, or you can go find some donuts."

"While I do enjoy a good hole," Van said, and Natalie cursed in Spanish under her breath, "I can't in good conscience leave my post."  Getting to his feet, he started popping buttons on his shirt.

Watching those strong fingers slide buttons through fabric, Eli's foot landed half off the belt on the treadmill, and he ended up stumbling off the side entirely.

"Ay, Dios mio.  I'm going to buy you blinders like a donkey," Natalie snapped at him, swatting him on the shoulder.  "Double speed, eyes front, or we'll never get out of here today."

"Got a hot date, ma'am?" Van said as he tugged his shirt off and set it on the weight bench.

"Don't you ma'am me.  Pretending to be a nice boy will not work.  Run."  She stalked up between the treadmills and began turning the speeds up.  Eli barely had breath to groan.  "Now you don't got the time to be talking, eh?"

Van jumped up on the treadmill and fell into pace without a stumble.  He had a surprisingly good form, running straight and tall.  He'd rolled his pant legs up a little, and the muscles stretched and bunched as he pounded along.  It was obvious that he ran on a regular basis.  He made it a half mile at Natalie's punishing pace before he started to get out of breath.

Jealous of the easy way he flowed through the steps, Eli tried to concentrate on his own rhythm.  Sweat was starting to make Van's chest shine in the light and, more than once, Eli found himself slowing when he spent too long staring at the shift of muscle under that coppery skin.

There was a sharp pinch on Eli's side and he jerked upright.  Natalie twisted his skin in her fingers and glared.  "Like. A. Donkey."

Van laughed so hard that he had to hop off the treadmill.

By the end of the run, Eli wished he'd had more than just his shake for breakfast.  Van was drenched in sweat and panting, bent over at the waist displaying the long lines of his back.

"Going to burn off all those donuts today, huh?" Natalie said, dropping a towel on his head as she passed by.  "Sparring next."

Eli lifted one arm to check his steadiness.  It trembled a little, but not enough for him to get out of the gym before Natalie killed him.  "Why do you hate me today?"

"You implying that I like you on normal days?" she asked, tossing him the tape for his hands.

"I swear you've said it before," Eli grumbled, taping his hands.

"Lies.  You, Donuts.  You know how to wrap your hands, or do I gotta do everything around here?"  She waved the roll of tape at Van threateningly.

"I can tape my own hands, Mommy," Van said straightening up.  His muscles were trembling more than Eli's but better than any other person dealing with Natalie's brand of caring.  It shouldn't have been as much of a turn on as it was, and Eli focused all his energy on getting his hands wrapped perfectly so that he wouldn't get hard.

"Prove it," was all Natalie said as she turned away to get the rest of the equipment.

Eli was surprised to see that she didn't have gloves out.  Bare knuckle meant being careful to modulate his strength.  He'd thought she was playing at being annoyed, but maybe she really was irritated with his distraction.  Then again, with the way Van's arms were hanging at his side, she might be trying to spare him the extra weight.

She must have felt the weight of his eyes because she said, "We'll go easy on him."  Her back was tense, and she refused to face him.  He'd have to corner her later and find out what was wrong.

Lining up at one end of the room, the mats soft under his feet, Eli pulled his sweat-soaked shirt off.  He could feel Van's eyes moving over his chest like a physical touch, and Natalie rolled her eyes.

"Can you throw a punch, Donuts?"

Van smiled without taking his attention off Eli's chest.  "Of course."

"You going to show me before I get gray hairs, or are you too busy thinking with your dick."

Laughing in surprise, Van looked at her and threw a sloppy mock punch.  "How's that?"

Eli snorted, checking the tape on his hands as Natalie pinched the bridge of her nose.  "God is testing me today," she said.  "Alright, first things first, make a fucking fist.  Eli, punching bag."

Twenty minutes later, Eli got smacked by the heavy bag for the third time because he was so busy laughing at Natalie's exasperated cursing.

"Donuts, what did I just say?  No, not like that.  Turn your damned wrist.  Did your mother drop you on your head as a baby?"  She shot him a glare.  "Keep your fucking mouth shut, Thompson."

Miming locking his lips, Eli held his hands up in surrender.

"Don't have a mother," Van said, throwing another punch, his form already vastly improved, "but rumor has it that Dad dropped each of us at one point or another, so it wouldn't surprise me."

Natalie didn't bat an eyelash.  "If his muscle control is anywhere near as pitiful as yours, it's a miracle you made it to adulthood," she said.  "I think that's as good as it's going to get.  Sparring."  Clapping her hands together loudly, she pointed at the floor in front of her.

Eli grinned and flexed his hands.  He'd cooled down a little while working on the bag, but watching Van stretch was making his pulse pick up again.

"Okay boys, play nice.  Love taps only."  She didn't look up as Van waggled his eyebrows.  "Keep it in your pants, Donuts."

Deciding to be generous, Eli put his hands up and didn't dodge the first punch that Van threw.  He was not at all expecting the gentle caress across his chest that followed.  Stumbling a little, he narrowed his eyes and tapped Van on the shoulder with his knuckles.

The next touch brushed lightly across his cheek.  Eli had seen it coming, but he hadn't been able to get out of the way in time.  Rough fingers stroked his jawline as Van retreated, and Eli missed his chance to peg him in the ribs.

Three more hits in and Eli was spending half his concentration to keep from embarrassing himself by getting any harder under his thin nylon shorts.

"Play fair," he mouthed, jerking away from the scrape of a fingernail across his nipple.

"What fun is that?" Van asked, grinning.  He was bouncing along with significantly greater skill than when they'd first started.

Eli realized he'd been played about the same time Natalie did.

"Donuts!"

Van laughed so hard he ended up sprawled on the mats clutching his stomach.  Even Natalie couldn't help but chuckle.

"Get out of my gym," she said, glaring at them both as she tried to force the smile off her lips.  "Both of you.  Go get some food.  I can hear your stomach growling from over here."

Rolling to his feet with a cheer, Van started picking the tape off his hands.  Eli had his off in half the time, years of practice coming in handy.  He ducked his head to hide a smile as the cop frowned at a stubborn corner, his lips pursing adorably.  He pulled a towel over his head when Van finally peeled the piece up and did a victory dance, the shimmy of those lean hips replaying behind his eyes as he wiped sweat out of them.

"Hey," Van said a moment later, and Eli pulled the towel down to his shoulder so that he could make eye contact.  "Feel free to say no, but... I was thinking of going to that steakhouse you recommended, and it'd be rude to go without inviting you."

Eli swallowed hard.  He'd been planning on getting a shower and then curling up with some room service and a movie, but it suddenly didn't seem very appealing.  He glanced at Natalie out of the corner of his eye, taking in the tight lines around her lips.  It was a bad idea.

"Yeah, okay."

"Really?  Great."  Van grinned, running a hand over the 5 o'clock shadow already coming up on his jaw.  "I gotta get a shower first, but I'll meet you upstairs in an hour?"

That had not been what he meant to say.  "Do you need to call another officer to keep an eye on me while you get changed?" Eli asked, his mouth apparently rebelling against the orders he was sending it.

"Fisher's shift started twenty minutes ago, so I can take you back upstairs and then get cleaned up.  I've got a change of clothes in the truck."  Van's eyes were starting to sparkle, and he bounced on his toes in enthusiasm.

"I can take him back to the suite," Natalie said, her voice flat.

Van didn't seem to notice, smiling at her and grabbing his uniform shirt.  "Great.  I'll meet you upstairs in an hour then?"  He waited long enough for Eli to nod before slipping out the door, pulling his shirt on as he jogged down the long hallway.

In the silence that was left, Eli avoided Natalie's eyes.  He knew what she was going to say.

"This is a terrible idea," she said, and he nodded, ducking his head.  "You remember Milwaukee?  That guy with the– what's it called?  The one with the red..."

"Mohawk," Eli said, pulling on the extra shirt that Natalie had brought down.  She always remembered little details like that.  He'd been so focused on Van that he hadn't even remembered to grab his water.

"That one.  He was very charming."  She doesn't mention how he'd dragged Eli to party after party, showing him off to all his tough friends.  They'd broken up after he'd blown up when Eli had refused to get involved in a bar fight that the guy's friends had started.  Mark.  That had been his name.

Eli sighed.  "This one's a cop."

"You think that means he won't expect the same macho bullshit?  Cause I think that means it'll be worse.  Those cops, they think with their dicks.  Like today, but less funny."  She tossed her things into the duffel that was as much a part of her as her left hand.  "I like him, you know, but the machismo?  That always ends bad.  You get hurt.  I don't like it when you get hurt.  Bruises and bones I can fix, but you're the softest man I know on the inside.  Like a cookie."

"I thought I was a donkey," he said, trying to lighten the mood.

"That too."  She shook her head.  "You're not going to listen to me, you stubborn ass.  You never do," she said, her accent getting heavier the way it did when she was uncomfortable.  "I just want you to keep it in mind, yeah?  Don't let this one all the way to the middle right away."  She hefted the duffel and shooed him out the door.

"I'll try," he said, but his stomach twisted a little.  It wasn't going to be easy to keep the charming Sgt. Harris at arm's length.

Natalie gave a noncommittal grunt, stabbing at the elevator buttons until one of the doors slid open.

They didn't say anything else on the way up, but they didn't have to.  Eli knew they were both thinking of the same thing.  After Milwaukee had been Phoenix and Nick, who'd dumped him when he realized that Eli preferred being on bottom.  There had been Cincinnati; Tommy had stopped returning his calls after a long discussion of how he needed someone who could embrace their masculinity, whatever that meant.

Eli didn't have a ridiculously long dating history, but what was there was full of men who had taken one look and wanted the deadly boxer.  They hadn't been satisfied with just Eli.

The elevator dinged arrival at the penthouse, and Eli put his hand on Natalie's arm.  She paused but didn't look up at him.  She had her own demons, he knew; men who wanted a woman who was soft and sweet, not one who could knock them on their asses.

"I promise I'll do my best."

She smiled, the creases at the edges of her eyes too harsh for it to be mistaken for happiness.  "That's all any of us can do, yeah?"

"Yeah."