It’s the hottest July in Michigan in living memory and Cameron Mitchel’s A/C isn’t working. A co-worker offers the use of his parents’ cabin on a lake in Traverse City for the upcoming holiday weekend. Arriving with his faithful basset hound, Mr. Magee, Cameron is greeted by the good-looking next door neighbor, Emory.
Emory Cauldwell is Cameron’s ideal man -- handsome, mature, and well-built. Best of all, he’s unavailable for a serious relationship. Cameron has had two failed relationships which have left him gun-shy, and he falls in love very easily. So to protect himself from another disappointment, he seeks the company of married men to safely satisfy his needs.
What happens when Cameron discovers Emory is not off limits after all? Will the heat that has built between them during the weekend weld them together, or will Cameron be burned yet again?
Pulling into the drive, Cam’s headlights picked out a small yellow cottage. Behind it was a white garage trimmed in green.
Cam turned the ignition key. The engine stopped. “Here we are,” he said looking over at hound.
Mr. Magee stood, stretched, yawned, put his paws on the door armrest, and looked out the window, tail wagging furiously.
Cam switched off the headlights, then quickly turned them back on. The moonless night had enclosed them in almost total darkness. The only light came in pin points from the homes across the lake, and from windows in the house next door. Next door was not really a proper description, as the house was a good fifty yards away and obscured by trees.
Leashing Mr. Magee, the pair got out of the car. The sounds of small waves lapping the shore, crickets in the woods, an owl hooting in a nearby tree, and the distant sound of loons on the lake, along with stars twinkling overhead through the trees all made for a perfect north woods setting, except for one small detail.
“It’s as fucking hot here as it was in Ann Arbor!” Cam exclaimed as he stood looking around. “I sure hope the Grafton cabin has A/C!”
They walked down the bank toward the lake to give Mr. Magee a chance to relieve himself. As they approached the shore, Cam heard splashing that was definitely more than waves on the beach. He stood still. Mr. Magee was alert -- head raised, white flag tail wagging. He strained forward on his leash toward the sounds. Suddenly, wading out of the lake and into the glow of the headlights was a man drying himself with a towel. Thoughts of Neptune, god of the sea, flashed through Cam’s mind.
The man before him was no ordinary individual. He was a Cameron Mitchel fantasy come to life. Nearly as tall as Cam, the man had the physique of a thirty-something gym rat, with the added bonus that only twenty years or more of maturity could bring. He had a full head of salt and pepper hair, warm eyes, and a great smile that was accentuated by the sexiest set of dimples Cam could imagine. His well-developed torso was covered with a superb rug of grizzled white and dark hair. He wore a red and white Speedo which displayed his manhood exquisitely.
“Hello,” the man said as he reached Cam, blinking in the brightness of the lights. Cam was momentarily speechless.
Squatting down, the man-god ruffed Mr. Magee’s long ears. “Hello to you, too,” he said warmly.
The man stood, continuing to run the towel over his marvelous body. “I don’t believe the Graftons are here this weekend. Is there something I could help you with?”
Was there something you could help me with? Cam’s thoughts echoed the man’s words. You bet there is!