Silver Bells
By Tinnean
()
About this ebook
Although Charles had enjoyed having Max in his bed, he’s always declared he wasn’t gay. And finding solace with other men after Max left him had nothing to do with ... anything. Now, however, he’s found a woman who ticks all his boxes in spite of her somewhat kinky tastes.
Will Santa give them each what they want most this Christmas?
Tinnean
I’ve been writing since the 3rd grade. I was on the staff of my high school magazine, and then... I got married. There was a long interval when raising my kids took preference, although I would scribble sci fi, contemporary, or paranormal stories with very strong heroines. (This was before I discovered m/m. Don’t laugh, I led a very sheltered childhood.)It was with the advent of the family's second computer – the first intimidated everyone – that my writing took off. I discovered 1. Fanfiction; 2. m/m (yes, I know. Finally!); 3. the wonder that is copy and paste. Does anyone remember what typing up a manuscript on a manual typewriter was like? Okay then, nuff said.While I was involved in fandom, I was nominated for both Rerun and Light My Fire Awards. But even then, my original characters would come knocking, to the point I’ve left Jim and Blair, Rodney and John, and even Lyle and Mr. Taggart (Blazing Saddles) behind. I’ve been published by Nazca Plain, JMS Books, Dreamspinner, Wilde City Press, and Less Than Three Press, and now I’m taking the leap into the self-pubbing pool. My novel, Two Lips, Indifferent Red received honorable mention in the 2013 Rainbow Awards, and Home Before Sundown was a 2017 runner-up.Now I reside in SW Florida with my husband and three computers, but I’ll always be a Noo Yawk kinda gal.
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Silver Bells - Tinnean
8
Chapter 1
Max Futé finally had a minute to spare, and he decided a cup of coffee would hit the spot. As the doctor in charge of the medical department of the WBIS—the Washington Bureau of Intelligence and Security—he’d been run ragged for the past two weeks treating a number of agents who’d thought they were immune to the latest strain of flu. They’d insisted on coming in to work in spite of feeling ill, and had succeeded in spreading it to most of their fellow workers who’d been stubborn enough to refuse the flu shot.
M. Wallace, who ran the organization, had not been pleased, and he’d had his secretary send out a memo that this wasn’t to happen next year. If it did, he promised there would be hell to pay.
As if dealing with all the ill agents hadn’t been enough, Max had just been visited by Granger, the spy who got things to happen by cross-dressing. And Max had to admit he made a very attractive woman. If Granger wasn’t straight and in a relationship, and if Max himself wasn’t in a relationship, he’d have been willing to trip Granger and beat him to the bed.
However, Granger was straight and in a relationship, and Max was madly in love with his own partner.
* * * *
No one knew two of the secretaries in Interior Affairs were involved with Granger, so when Ms. Parker, M. Vincent’s secretary, and Ms. DiNois, who was Matheson’s, both turned up pregnant, and it was revealed Granger was the father, it had been a nine days’ wonder. As a matter of fact, the entire staff of the WBIS had been titillated, and waited with baited breath to see how the women reacted when they learned of their paramour’s betrayal.
Everyone was stunned to discover there had been no betrayal, because they were in a relationship.
So then the staff waited to see M. Vincent’s reaction. Surely he would be livid that two of the secretaries in his department, one of them his, were enceinte.
From what Max had learned, it had been anticlimactic, to say the least. All M. Vincent had to say was of course all this had come to light on that particular day—it was a Monday, after all.
* * * *
In addition to other things that had occurred today, Granger had burst through the doors into Medical. He wore a long-sleeved winter white knit midi dress with a V-neckline and a curved hem. In the normal course of events, Max would appreciate Granger’s elegant appearance, but just then Granger was the epitome of harried.
There you are!
he exclaimed. I’ve been looking for you all over.
"Yes, here I am, Monsieur Granger. Max sighed.
I’ve been here all day."
Huh? Oh…
Granger muttered something about Frenchmen and waved that aside.
What can I do for you?
It’s Arianne. I need you to examine her. She’s been having contractions—
The very pregnant woman stepped around Granger. I told you they were merely Braxton-Hicks.
There was no need for worry,
Max said to Granger. The false labor contractions usually started in the third trimester, preparing the body for the real thing. You should be aware of that.
Granger frowned first at Max and then at Ms. DiNois. That’s what Patti said, and twenty minutes later she was popping out our little girl.
Fortunately, that hadn’t occurred here at the WBIS. While Max was skilled in most branches of medicine, obstetrics wasn’t precisely his forte.
What are you doing here anyway?
Max asked the woman standing before him. I understood you’ve been on leave for the past month.
Granger glowered at Ms. DiNois. That’s what I want to know. I left her home, snug in bed, and the next thing…I find her here at work.
She went to him and rested her palm against his cheek. I was restless and wanted to get out for a bit. Patti’s been coming in to the WBIS a couple of days a week, and I thought it would be nice for Gabriella to see where her mama works.
You should have called me instead of driving yourself,
Granger said in a sulky tone.
Max had to turn away to hide a grin. It would be a relief for everyone when this baby was born. He had no doubt Granger was an excellent father to his little girl, would be an excellent father to the baby as yet to be born, but in the meantime, he was driving everyone here at the WBIS insane with his hovering over the two women who were in his life—who were his life.
Besides, isn’t it too cold to take Gabriella out?
I bundled her up.
And before you ask,
Granger told Max, we left her with Patti.
Max was tempted to roll his eyes at that. He noted the way Ms. DiNois kneaded her lower back and worried his lower lip instead. Perhaps I had best examine you, Ms. DiNois, if only to calm down Granger.
She turned to Max. I’m sorry, Dr. Futé. It really isn’t—oh, very well.
She surrendered gracefully.
He pointed toward an exam room Housekeeping had finished putting back in order after the last of the agents he’d treated had been discharged.
As Ms. DiNois had assured her distracted partner, the contractions were simply signs of false labor.
Granger looked disgruntled. Don’t tell me you told me so.
I won’t,
she agreed, then giggled. But I did.
You make me crazy,
Granger groused.
Max helped Ms. DiNois off the exam table. If you’re concerned, I’d suggest you see your obstetrician.
He refrained from telling Granger this wasn’t his area of expertise, but he was certain of his diagnosis.
I have, and she said everything is right on track for this baby to be born on Christmas.
Ah, that’s nice.
Max smiled.
No, it’s not,
Granger snapped, startling Max out of fond memories of the Christmases he’d spent with his grand-mère in Paris. "The poor kid will get