I reach out and hug Doug. He looks slightly startled at my over-enthusiastic greeting, but then hugs me back. He’s tall and wide-shouldered and smells nice. Just having another body against my own is lovely, but… that’s as far as it goes. Not a spark of interest at all.

Maybe I just need to get to know him. I’ve never needed to be friends with a bloke in order to make my cock hard, but I’m getting older, I tell myself desperately. Things change. And personality is a very crucial component in attraction.

I step back. I glance and Misha and find he’s frowning at me. His hair is tumbled around his face, and those eyes of his are very blue tonight. My cock stirs immediately, and I want to scream. This is not what I signed up for as Misha’s best friend. For twenty years we’ve been all about warm friendship and brotherly love. Now, for some bloody reason, everything has gone haywire. The genie is out of the bottle and on the rampage.

I quickly glance at Doug again. He’s regarding Misha and me with a slightly sardonic expression. Rupert immediately nudges him. I think it’s supposed to be unobtrusive. Doug immediately pins a smile on his face.

What’s that all about?

“It’s so lovely to see you, Charlie,” Doug says, stepping closer. “You’re looking as bloody gorgeous as ever.”

“Thank you.”

“No, really.” He grins widely. “I’d forgotten how good-looking you are. Thank heavens Misha made that phone call, or I would have mourned the loss of making a real connection with you.”

Misha stirs and frowns at Doug.

Rupert coughs loudly. “I say—” he begins.

Doug talks merrily over him. “I mean, that’s all we want in life, isn’t it? A connection.” His gaze travels around our slightly stunned group and lands on me. “I look at you, Charlie,” he says, stepping close and touching my hair, “and I see forever in your eyes.”

“What the fuck?” Misha breathes.

Rupert coughs again. I wonder if he’s coming down with a cold, but I can’t ask, because I’m standing very still, afraid to make any sudden movements that might provoke Doug.

“Erm, thank you,” I finally say with a big question in my voice.

“Look at you,” he coos. “All that pretty hair and that face.” He steps back. “And that arse. It’s a thing of beauty.”

“I don’t think we need to discuss Charlie’s arse,” Misha says rather forbiddingly.

Doug just shrugs and puts his arms around me. “You have no idea what you look like, do you, Charlie? Oh, how I adore modesty in a man.” He clutches me closer. “Tell me, what are your views on surrogacy and the desire I have to raise ten children?”

“Too close,” Misha says loudly, peeling Doug off me.