Golden Dancer (15 page)

“Hey, Mac, you here?”

Trapped. He knew Debbie was going to get him. He was surprised she’d waited this long. “In here.”

She came in, floppy shorts, tank top, flying red hair—all the Debbie stuff he loved. Mac couldn’t believe he was dreading this encounter even more than his talk this morning with his father. To his dad, he could lie by omission. Not to Debbie. “Hi.” He knew his smile was sheepish.

She flopped into one of his slightly ratty chairs. “You working?”

“Yeah.”

“On the Terrebone story?”

“Yeah.”

“Even though you now hang out with Terrebone like he was a…very good friend?”

“What better way to gather facts?”

She looked at him with narrow eyes. “So that’s what you were doing with those two men? Gathering facts?” She snorted loudly. “Yeah, gathering facts on Medveyev’s gorgeous ass and Terrebone’s infamously huge cock!”

“Is it infamous?” Crap, he shouldn’t have asked that.

She chuckled. “Yeah. The man’s a player, and more than one satisfied customer has fucked and told, but I didn’t see three guys on a casual fling at that table, baby. That dancer looked at you like you hung the moon, and I didn’t see much objectivity in your expression either.”

He shifted uncomfortably. “Give it up, Deb.”

“That serious, huh? So, you have had gay sex, I gather?”

“Yeah.”

“And it was…?”

He took a deep breath. “Incredible. Better than anything, ever. Addictive. Life-altering.” He heard his voice getting louder but couldn’t stop. “Confusing, mind-boggling that I could have been so self-deluded for so long, torn apart and not knowing what to do with my fucking life…” His voice caught. “Not knowing what to do about the story, or my career, and what in the hell to tell my father.” By this time, Deb had crawled out of the chair, crossed, and knelt in front of him, gathering him into her arms.

“Hey, it’s okay. It’s okay, Mac. Let’s sort it out a little at a time.”

She pulled him up and over to the couch, then pushed him down and went into the little kitchen. She returned with two tinkling glasses of his omnipresent iced tea and plopped down beside him. “Okay, first. You’re gay.”

He nodded. It was all he could manage.

“Good. That’s finally settled. When you think about it, you’ll realize it’s good to know.”

He shook his head. “But I can’t think about being with anyone…like that.”

“I thought you said you already had?”

“Anyone but Trelain…and, uh…Daniel.”

Her eyes widened. “So you had sex with both of them?”

“No. I mean, I fucked Trelain, but Daniel was just…you know…sucking and stuff.”

“Still sex. It counts. You were safe?”

“Yes, Mother.”

She gave him a frown.

“We mostly used protection.”

She gave a huge smile. “And you really, really loved it, right?”

“Are you getting off on this?”

“Shit, I’m so happy to think you really enjoyed sex, I don’t care if you had it with a goat and an alligator.”

He finally gave up and laughed.

Then she sobered. Yeah, he figured she’d catch on in a minute. “And you care about these guys?”

“I think I care about Trelain. I mean, shit, I took off down there like someone lit my fucking tail on fire when I thought he was in trouble. And that was before we had sex.”

“What about Terrebone?”

“He kind of came with the package. Trelain cares about him, and if I wanted to be with him, I had to…you know.”

She grinned again. “Actually, I don’t, but I sure as hell hope you’re planning a book on the subject. Anyway, you’re in a bit of an ethical dilemma here, aren’t you?”

“Yeah, you don’t know the half of it. But the fact is, Trelain is gone, which means so is Terrebone. I have a serious job to do, and I now have marching orders from Woo to get that job done.” He could feel his backbone stiffening as he talked. “I can’t be of two minds about it. I’m not. I have to discover the truth, and when I do, I’ll write about it.”

Her look could only be described as skeptical. “Really? Wouldn’t it just be easier to walk away so you can explore this relationship the way it deserves?”

“You know I never do easy.”

“Shit, that’s the truth. Maybe it’s time to start. Understanding your feelings is going to be hard enough, Mac. And hell, what about Devin?”

“I’m gonna tell him.”

“About Medveyev and Terrebone?”

Jesus, was he? “Not sure about that part, but I’m going to tell him I’m gay. Jesus, he’s a ballet master. Half his dancers are gay. He’s gotta cut me a break.”

“You’re his son, Mac. When it comes down to it, that’s what will count with him. He’ll want you to be happy.”

“Hell, I hope you’re right.”

“And Terrebone?”

“Game on.”

* * *

Trelain adjusted his tie and regarded the total effect. Damned fine. An evening at the club with Rodney would put him right. He hadn’t seen anyone—or had sex, for that matter—since he’d left California. Yes, that had been extraordinary, but he wasn’t a monogamous creature. He smiled. Not that his nights with Daniel and Mac could technically be considered monogamous. Who would have ever thought a ménage could be so fun?

He sighed and picked up his suit jacket from the bed. But the principle applied. He wasn’t faithful. He never had been; no reason to start now. Rodney was a friend and great “in the sack,” as they said. Of course, Trelain had some new standards in that arena, and they’d be hard to beat.

He walked to the front door of his flat, flipping off lights as he went. He turned the knob. Bollocks. What was he doing?

He reclosed the door and hurried back into the bedroom. He grabbed the phone and dialed.

The deep, soft voice trembled with joy. “Hey, baby, I’m so happy you called me.”

Trelain fell back on the bed, ripping at his too-tight tie. “Christ, Daniel, I miss you so much. You and Mac. I miss you terribly.”

* * *

Game stalled.

Mac stared at the screen, putting the finishing touches on a report on contaminants in drinking water. Not the stuff of high drama.

Three more f-ing days and not much more accomplished. He’d gotten a couple messages from Von Berg, but just the kind of stuff that proved Terrebone had the means to pull off the robbery, not that he had actually done it. Interesting that with all his resources Von Berg didn’t seem any further ahead than Mac was.

There’d also been one slightly strange phone call from Kizwalski. After saying he didn’t have anything new to report, the CIA guy had told Mac to be careful. Said he never shared info from one source or client to another, but there were people interested in Mac’s investigation. Yeah, the guy had probably heard about Von Berg and didn’t realize Mac was actually working with the German. Did John have more than one private client interested in the Terrebone investigation? He sure as hell hoped it wasn’t another reporter.

At the same time, he didn’t give a shit. He half believed the reason his investigation was going nowhere was because he didn’t want to succeed. Now that he knew Daniel—in more than the Biblical sense—he didn’t really want the man to be guilty. Or, at least, he was having a tough time with the idea of bringing him down. Shit! What kind of a fucking reporter was he? But it was possible that Daniel didn’t do it. It was possible!

On top of a boatload of frustration over his stalled investigation, Mac was also crawly with sexual frustration. From celibate to addict in a week. He stalked around his little house like a caged animal, thought about the Laguna gay bars, and rejected the idea as too scary and kind of repulsive. He’d even thought of trying out the boy-toy service he used for Kizwalski, but that qualified as full-on creepy. What he wanted was Trelain. Trelain’s ass, yes, but also those turquoise eyes looking at him like he—what did Debbie call it?—hung the moon. He missed the dancer with an ache he would have thought impossible just weeks ago. Yeah, and to be honest, he kind of missed the damned billionaire too. Crap.

One more tea. Pouring the dark liquid over yet more ice, he heard a car door slam. It was early afternoon. Not many people coming and going at this hour.

Feeling nosy, he carried his drink into the living room and peered out the window. Holy shit. Daniel stood in the middle of his little yard looking around like he’d never seen how the other half lived, but his chauffeur was pulling the big limo away from his house.

Talk about conflicting emotions—a weird combo of horror and delight. Before one emotion could win, the doorbell sounded. He set down the tea and walked to the entry. First he needed to know why the hell Daniel was here. Deep breath. He opened the door.

How could he forget Daniel’s beauty? Six-three or -four of slim, broad-shouldered, narrow-hipped masculinity. That silver hair had grown a bit since Mac had first seen him, and it curled a little around his ears. Those deep midnight blue eyes went on for eons. Right now, those eyes looked uncertain. Dimples flashed in the lean cheeks. “Hi.”

Breathing was difficult. “Hi.”

Mac couldn’t move. Daniel didn’t. Finally, Mac shook himself mentally.
Get a grip
. “Did you want to come in?”

“That would be nice, yes.”

Mac stepped aside, and Daniel walked past him into the cramped, messy cottage. Mac followed the bigger man as he walked into the little living-room/office combo. Shit. He walked over to the computer to check that only his water article was up on the screen. Yeah. Good. “Do you want some iced tea?”

“Thank you.”

Mac walked into the little kitchen, poured a new glass, and refilled his own. What the hell did the man want? When he went back to the living area, Daniel was looking at photos on the wall. He extended a glass. Daniel took it, and their eyes met.

Daniel seemed to take a breath. “I miss you so much.”

“What?”

“I miss you. I can’t stand that Trelain being gone means we have nothing left between us.”

Mac knew his mouth hung open. “I didn’t think you even liked me.”

The dark eyes looked back at him, and then he got the wry smile he knew so well. “I didn’t. I even tried to hate you because Trelain cares for you so much, but I can’t seem to do it. I want you, Mac.”

Mac shook his head, trying to clear it. What was this about? This was so not in character for the cool billionaire. Yeah, he’d seen Daniel play at bottoming for Trelain, but this was…well, not Trelain. It was him, MacKenzie MacAllister. WTF? A lot of people were acting strangely lately, including him. “There are a million guys who would lie down in the road to be with you…”

Daniel grabbed his arm, sloshing a little tea onto the old wood floor. “Don’t want them. Want you. Fuck me, Mac. Please, fuck me.”

This wasn’t happening. Daniel Terrebone, billionaire, art thief, and nemesis, was not really standing here begging to be fucked. Sweet Jesus, his head was going to explode. Mac backed up, pulling his arm from Daniel’s grasp, surrendering more tea to the floorboards.

Daniel closed the gap in one step, flipping the glass from Mac’s hand. He barely heard the crash as Daniel’s mouth closed over his. Instant flashback to that night in the hallway at Daniel’s house, the night Mac’s whole life changed. Mac felt that hot tongue pressing into his mouth with no pause for permission, and every ounce of frustration boiling just under his skin for days poured out his throat in a deep moan, a moan echoed by the big man holding him. Mac’s arms wrapped around that tall body of their own accord, and he tangled a leg around Daniel’s thigh trying to get their cocks closer. Daniel was big, but no way he could lift Mac’s tall, lanky frame around his waist like they both loved to do to Trelain. Instead, the man grabbed that thigh and pulled it high until Mac’s erection pointed straight at the big lump in Daniel’s shorts, and then he pulled Mac’s butt with his other hand and ground them together. Oh shit, it felt good.

“Feel good, Mac? Have you been missing this as much as I have?” Daniel stared relentlessly into his eyes as he purposefully ground their two big rods, separated only by thin summer cotton. Daniel pulled Mac’s butt harder, shooting sparks straight through his cock. “Tell me, dammit!”

“Yes, shit, yes, I dream about it. I wake up covered in cum thinking of your mouth on my cock.” And damn him to hell, it was true.

Daniel pulled their bodies closer and rotated his hips. Holy crap, it was like heaven and hell at once. Daniel pushed his lips next to Mac’s ear. “And did you ever dream about fucking me, Mac? After you saw Trelain do it, didn’t you want to just a little bit?” When all he got from Mac was a moan, he upped the grinding. “Tell me; I want to hear. Tell me!”

“Oh God, yes, I wanted to fuck you right then, but you didn’t ask me. I’ve wanted to every day since; I want to…”

“Now. You want to now.”

“Yes, God, yes.” Crap, what was he saying?

Daniel pulled Mac in for a searing kiss. “Where?”

Mac nodded toward the bedroom.

The crazy big man picked Mac up by the waist. Mac was only a couple inches shorter and maybe twenty pounds lighter, so the overall effect was not graceful or suave. In fact, the marked contrast to having the sinuous Trelain wrapped around him made Mac laugh. Daniel looked at him askance for a moment, then joined in. This had to be a sight worthy of a Saturday cartoon, but it got the job done, and Daniel carried Mac, stumbling, down the short hall, tossed him onto his bed, and fell down on top of him.

The laughing turned to gasping. Daniel dug into a pocket and produced a bottle of lube. He pushed himself up off Mac’s body and dragged his denim shorts off a very erect cock with no underwear in between. The man came prepared. Breathing hard, he poured lube into his palm, knelt up, bent over unceremoniously, and started shoving lube into his ass. He glanced at Mac. “Get those shorts off, man. You got work to do.”

Holy crap. He was about to fuck Daniel Terrebone. That this might be true in more ways than one was not something he wanted to think about. Mac ripped off his shorts and boxer briefs, letting that painfully confined erection spring free.

Daniel stared for a minute. “Jesus, Mac, that thing inspires poetry. I can’t wait. Oh, God, I can’t wait. Hurry, please?”