“What did I get myself into?” Skye Glass strode into the Harver Gallery. He’d sponsored the show but had begun to wonder if the money was well spent. A show full of naked bodies? Positioned bodies, but still naked. Who’ll come to see a one-night-only, blink-and-you’ll-miss-it show? Peepers?

Hell if he knew.

He’d devoted his billions to philanthropy and wasn’t about to change his course now.

He stopped at the velvet rope and flashed his badge. “Primary sponsor.”

The guard nodded. “Yes, sir. You’re entitled to preview the show.”

“Thank you.” He’d been granted the right to preview every exhibit coming through the gallery because he’d sponsored them all. He’d paid dearly for the right of the author to show their work.

He’d helped bring in exhibits full of big-name artists, smaller names, unknown artists and some truly funky creators. He loved art and felt it should be within reach to anyone.

Except this show might be a bit too far. He walked into the gallery space and his jaw nearly hit the floor. The artist hadn’t been kidding about the nakedness. No one in the room, save for Skye and the curator, had clothes on.

Quentin Rhodes, the curator, rushed up to him. Skye thanked God Quentin was clothed. He’d seen too many naked bodies in the last five minutes and wanted a bit covered up.

Quentin grinned. “You made it.”

“I’m not sure what I made it to, but I did.” He sighed and stuffed his hands into his pockets. “What did I sponsor? You said it was radical.”

“It’s avant-garde.” Quentin’s eyes glittered. “Cutting-edge.”

“I can see that.” He swept his gaze over the slew of bodies. “Are some of these mannequins?” A few seemed too posed to be anything but real.

“Yes. It’s up to the viewer to know who is which.” Quentin applauded. “I’m so excited.”

“I guess so.” He didn’t want to be here. It wasn’t the nudity that bothered him, but rather the wonder of it all. Was this art? Really? Posed naked bodies?

A performance, he supposed. One night only. An event. A happening. He shouldn’t be too surprised. He’d sponsored some off-the-wall shows—one featuring a woman who slashed her canvases with paint and broken records, a man who painted his partner by brushing the paint on the man’s skin, a woman who howled while dancing in shafts of light. But this one was more than he’d expected.

And all on his dime.

Oh well.

He had more money than he knew what to do with and this would help the artist excel to the next level.

He turned on his heel, about to leave, when he noticed a dark-haired young man stretched out on his back on a bed of AstroTurf in front of a picket fence. He’d planted his feet in the grass and aimed his knees toward the heavens. Skye marveled at the sheer beauty of the man. Part of him wanted to know if the man was real and the rest of him wanted to leave. Instead of heading straight out, he made his way over to the model.

As he reached the general area, he glanced about. Quentin had already moved on to speak with one of the other models. Skye didn’t see the artist. Was he there? Or she? He hadn’t asked about the creator.

Skye summoned his courage. Right now, the model wouldn’t know him from Adam. Shouldn’t have any preconceived notions or the need to push for money. They were just two guys talking.

He’d nearly reached the model when he paused. According to Quentin, the viewers were supposed to figure out of the models were real or mannequins, but were they supposed to speak to the models? Interact with them?

He might as well try.

“Hi.” He kept his hands in his pockets and watched the model’s chest to see if he was breathing. “What’s the title of your part of the installation?”

“Daydreaming,” the model replied and didn’t bother to look at him.

“What?” Daydreaming? About something? His thoughts scrambled as he looked at the model. This man was physically everything he wanted—dark hair, young, muscled and not all hairy like some men he’d known. Nice hands and thick lashes.

“I’m supposed to be daydreaming,” the model said. “Join me?”

“Naked?” That might be a bit too much. He wasn’t big on being naked in public. Wasn’t good for his image and besides, someone might see his imperfections and he’d gone to way too much trouble to hide them.

“It’s the show,” the man said. “You’re permitted to be clothed.” He looked over at Skye and smiled.

Electricity slid through Skye’s veins. He’d never felt such a spark from a simple look. “On the floor?” That sounded dumb. Of course he’d have to be on the floor if he was joining the model.

“That’s generally how this works.” The man chuckled. “I won’t bite.”

“I know.” God. He wasn’t good at flirting. Was this flirting? Or part of the show? Hell if he knew. He dropped to his knees on the AstroTurf, then settled beside him on the faux grass. “Am I permitted to have a conversation with you? Or allow you to continue daydreaming?”

“I’m bored out of my skull,” the man said. “I’m supposed to appear to be daydreaming, but since Jelly is still posing everyone, I’m not trying too hard to stay in character.”

“That makes sense.” He laced his fingers together and rested his hands on his belly. “What got you into modeling?”

“This? The money. That and Jelly is a friend.” The man tipped his head and seemed to watch Skye. “Do you like art?”

“I do.” He met the man’s gaze. “What’s your name?”

“Aeren.” Aeren’s grin widened. “Yours?”

“Skye.” He unlaced his fingers and offered his hand. “Nice to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you, too.” Aeren chuckled. “This is a strange way to meet people, isn’t it?”

“It could be.” He really looked at Aeren’s eyes. Dark, mysterious and soulful. He had a mole on his left cheek just to the left of his nose and the beauty mark gave him the look of a photography model. “Do you like art?”

“I do. I used to paint, but it didn’t pay the bills,” Aeren said. “Went to art school, but galleries didn’t want my portrait paintings. They want original shit like this.” His eyes widened. “I’m sorry. I should’ve asked if you’re a curator or owner before I spoke.”

“It’s fine. I’m not either and I appreciate you being honest.” He shifted onto his side and propped his head on his hand. “What was your medium?”

“Acrylics. I used to go for oils, but no one wanted to wait for them to dry.” Aeren shrugged and his nipples beaded. “They wanted instantaneous. Acrylics aren’t really that fast, but you can deliver the painting in a few days rather than weeks.”

“True.” He swept his gaze over Aeren. The dusting of freckles on his chest added to his attractiveness. No matter how hard Skye tried, he couldn’t not look at Aeren’s dick. His mouth watered. He liked men with enough girth to get the point across, but not too long and the idea of how to use what they had. Aeren struck him as the type who knew what he packed.

“My favorite movement is art deco, even if it’s not the style I painted in. I love the sinewy lines and whimsical nature. It’s beauty all around,” Aeren said. “I wish I had the talent to paint that way. I’ve never been adept with printmaking, either. I prefer to control my lines and I hate knives.”

He could listen to Aeren talk for hours. The low rhythmic tones sent shivers along his spine. He settled on his back and stared at the ceiling to keep from focusing on Aeren’s dick.

“Which one is your favorite?” Aeren asked. “Or don’t you have one?”

“I love the art of the Renaissance, primarily the geometric qualities of the stained-glass windows. I love what the artists did with the glass and storytelling.” He laced his fingers behind his head and looked at the ceiling without really seeing it. He pictured the south rose window from Notre Dame in his mind. “They’re so beautiful and elegant.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” He chuckled. “Isn’t it odd to be having a conversation like this while you’re completely naked and I’m not?”

“Not really.” This time, Aeren rolled onto his side and arranged Skye’s necktie on his chest. “It’s nice to get to talk about art with someone. My friends don’t give a shit if I’m an artist and have no idea what Dada is except for someone’s father.”

“I suppose if it ain’t Baroque, don’t fix it is beyond their understanding?” It was a horrible joke, but he didn’t care. He had the feeling Aeren would appreciate it.

Aeren laughed and the throaty sound filled the air. “Wow. I haven’t heard that one in forever, but it’s still good. Nice one.” He fiddled with Skye’s tie again. “Why are you here?”

“I sponsored part of the show.” The biggest part, but he wasn’t about to tell Aeren that yet.

“No kidding? That’s cool. Got busted and you’re doing it as restitution?”

“No. Self-imposed sentence. I like art and wanted to help artists,” Skye said. “Can’t draw to save my life, but I’m good with numbers.”

“That’s rad. I can’t balance my bank account. My friend Natty helps and he expects a cut for it.” Aeren shrugged, then settled on his back. “Fuck. I don’t mind working for Jelly—the money is good—but if he rides my ass again, I will scream.”

“Can’t help you with that, but I’ve enjoyed our conversation.” He hadn’t been able to talk about art with his friends at the exchange. They’d wanted to go over numbers and argue which stock had the best yield.

A naked man with a bounty of hair on his chest and a tattoo of Van Gogh on his thigh rushed over to where Skye had stretched out with Aeren. “What’s going on here?” he shouted. “This is not what this installation is supposed to look like.”

“Jel, chill.” Aeren sat up. “This is one of your sponsors. His name is Skye and he’s a nice man.”

Skye managed to sit up, then bounced to his feet. He offered his hand. “Nice to meet you.”

“Right.” Jelly pointed to Aeren. “Back into place. I’m not done staging.” He turned his attention to Skye. “And you…sponsor my ass. You’re trying to get a piece of ass. He’s my model tonight. Peddle your goods somewhere else.”

Skye snorted. He hadn’t been spoken to this way in a long time. He opened his mouth to argue when he spotted Quentin barreling toward them.

“Mr. Moore, this is indeed one of the sponsors.” Quentin touched Jelly’s arm and directed him away from Skye and Aeren.

Whatever Quentin said to Jelly, Skye couldn’t make it out and didn’t really care. Skye turned his back on them and half-smiled at Aeren. “Sorry. I hope you’re not in trouble.”

“Not any other trouble I can’t get out of.” Aeren smiled, then finger-combed his hair. “Will you be at the show tonight?”

“Will I be able to talk to you again? Or will he have a fit?” He didn’t bother to look back at Jelly.

“A fit.” Aeren blushed. “Still, I hope you can make it.”

And miss Aeren in the nude? He’d be there. “I’ll see what I can do.” But he’d try to be there near the end of the show so he could speak to Aeren without issue.

“Come back.” Aeren settled in the faux grass again. “See you, I hope.”

“I’ll be here.” He ducked out of the gallery before Quentin could chase him down. As he headed through the main lobby to the foyer, he spotted his friend Alan Dean, the head of giving. “Hi, Al.”

“Skye.” Alan held his hand up. “Where are you rushing to?”

“Out of here.” He checked his pockets for his wallet, phone and keys. Once satisfied he had everything, he strode over to Alan. “You’re here late.”

“I had to check on the gallery. Quentin’s picked a real interesting gig in there. Naked people. What do you think?” Alan asked.

“It’s different.” He stuffed his hand into his pockets again. “Have you found some new sponsors, or am I the biggest one still?”

“You’re the top and I wish you’d let me put your name on the gallery. It’s not right that you donate so much money and don’t get the full credit,” Alan said. “You should.”

“I don’t do it for credit.” Alan knew that, but the fact never stopped him from pushing, much to Skye’s chagrin.

“Well, you should.” Alan folded his arms. “I’m trying to bring in smaller-dollar donors so we continue to be accessible to everyone.”

“Good.” He barely heard a word Alan said. His thoughts traveled back to the conversation with Aeren. Speaking to him had enlivened him. Looking at Aeren made him feel alive. Sure, Aeren probably gave his attention to everyone so they’d feel that way to help project the air of accessibility, but whatever. He wondered what it might be like to kiss Aeren. To feel his soft skin and stroke his cock. To have him in his arms.

“Uh-huh,” Alan said. “I thought so.”

“What?” He focused on his friend. “I’m sorry.”

“Who is he?” Alan asked. “Are you listening?”

“Nope.” He might as well be truthful.

“You’re thinking about Aeren, aren’t you?” Alan crooked his eyebrow.

“Maybe.” He’d been caught. “Was that his name?” He wasn’t good at playing coy.

“You know damn well that’s who he was.” Alan rolled his eyes. “You need to get laid.”

He did. “Where do you suggest I find such things?” He sucked at dating and wasn’t good at finding partners, even for an evening. Most men said he was too nerdy. They liked his money, not his brains.

“I know a place,” Alan said and gestured to Skye, then dropped his voice to a whisper. “They’ll get you a guy and he’ll be exactly what you want.”

“You’re serious?”

Alan didn’t talk of such things. He was all about money and donors and being a good person—not finding a date or fuck buddy.

“Deadly. I’ll even pay the fee for you to enter. Bet you find someone that night or get your ad answered pretty quickly.”

Ad? Fee? “Alan?” This was so unlike him. “What are you talking about?”

“Well, you’ll need a date for stuff and if the guy you’re matched up with is a good fit, then you’re set.” Alan scribbled on one of his business cards. “Go here this weekend and ask for Andre. He’ll get you set up with an ad, then you’ll be set.”

“What?” He stared at the numbers on the card. “What is this place?”

Alan glanced about and lowered his voice even more. “It’s called Boys Club. Men of a certain standing visit and find partners for the hour, the evening or the week…could be even more. I’ve got friends who’ve found true love there.”

“At a place called Boys Club?” It didn’t seem possible.

“Well, yeah.” Alan pointed to the card. “Look, it’s exclusive and guaranteed to help you find what you want. You’re going to want to go to events with someone and eventually you’re going to get tired of being alone. If you give this a chance, you’ll find someone. Is that so bad? No. It’s a good thing because you’re too good of a guy to be alone.”

“You never made a move.” Not that he wanted to be with Alan, but still. If he was such a catch, then he should have guys coming out of the woodwork for him—not having to pick someone up at a club.

“I’m not interested in you. I like blonds.” Alan grinned and his gaze traveled far beyond Skye. “His name is Liam and it’s early, but it’s good and he doesn’t give a rip about art. Anyway, you just need to find someone who will get you out of your rut and rock your world. You’ll find that at the club. Promise.”

“If you promise…” He fought the urge to roll his eyes. He had no doubt he’d find someone handsome like Aeren, but whatever he’d meet at the club was there to entertain and take his money—something he didn’t want. He needed a connection, not just mindless sex.

“I do.” He closed Skye’s hand around the card. “Just give it a try. Visit and if you’re that put off, then don’t go back.”

“I’ll visit then.” And he’d probably not go back. “Thanks. I’ll be here a little later for the show. It’s oddball, but it’s intriguing.”

“Contemplations in Skin?” Alan frowned. “You do realize Jelly and Quentin have a thing, right? That’s why it’s being shown tonight and one night only. It’s so Quentin can convince Jelly to sleep with him.”

“That’s messed up.” And sad. He thought he knew Quentin better than that. “Why would he book a show that’s so out there just to get a date? That’s not how the gallery works.” It wasn’t how he wanted his money spent, either.

“Don’t rag him too hard. He’s lonely and even I thought he and Jelly had a connection,” Alan said. “Just let it be.”

“Send him to the club.” He’d give the card to Quentin right now.

“Quentin isn’t the right clientele.”

“He’s not obscenely wealthy?” God, he hated the way that sounded, even if it was true.

“No, he’s not good at keeping his mouth shut. It’s an exclusive club and meant for discerning men. If you’re going to blab about the club or what goes on, then they won’t ask you back. You’re the kind of guy they want—sweet, quiet and discerning,” Alan said. “Just give it a shot.”

“Fine.” He shook his head. “I’ll try it this weekend, but I’m coming to the show tonight. I paid for the damn thing and I might as well get my money’s worth by viewing it in its full glory.”

“And gawk at Aeren.” Alan chuckled. “Go. He’ll still be here.”

“I will.” He should thank Alan for the referral, but he wasn’t sure what to think about it. A club to pick up men. An escort service? He had no idea. Did he want to go? Did he not want to? He’d never know if he wouldn’t like the place if he didn’t visit…

Why not give the club a chance? He might find the man of his dreams.

Anything’s possible.