Playing With Fire (Glasgow Lads Book 3) (25 page)

The lift doors opened, and Robert froze, wondering if his thoughts had somehow conjured the Warriors captain himself, like in a lucid dream.

“Robert!” Fergus stepped out of the lift with a smile. “What brings you…” His voice trailed off as he looked at the overnight bag in Robert’s hand. “Oh.”

“What are you doing here?”

Fergus’s face flushed. “Erm, I got Liam’s room with the rewards points on my credit card. Since it was under my name, I had to sign in and pretend I was staying here.” He shifted his weight from foot to foot. “The points aren’t transferable.”

“Ah.” They stood in embarrassed silence for a moment. The doors slid shut, apparently tired of waiting.

“Don’t tell Liam you saw me, okay?” Fergus asked. “It would hurt his pride if he knew you knew he didn’t pay for the hotel.”

“Okay.” He didn’t care who had paid, but something else about this felt…off.

“Sorry, I need to dash.” Fergus turned to leave, then stopped. “But first I have to say, I’m glad you’re the one he’s so—that is, the one he cares about enough to want to have an extraordinary night with.”

A shiver went down Robert’s spine. “He said that?”

“Not in so many words, but he made it clear this date meant a lot to him and he wanted to do it right.”

Robert recalled Fergus’s previous statement. “When you say you’re glad I’m the one, does that mean he never told you who he was seeing? You didn’t ask if it was anyone you knew?”

He looked away, rubbing his neck. “I did ask, but—”

“But he lied to you.”

Fergus sighed. “Perhaps he didn’t want to make things awkward on the pitch.”

“You’ve seen us lately. Things are already awkward on the pitch.”

“And now I know why.”

Robert tightened his grip on the handle of his bag. “You’re his best friend next to me. Why would he want to keep us a secret from you?”

“You’ll have to ask—” Fergus stopped himself. “No, you can’t ask Liam, because then he’ll know you saw me, and then he’ll know you know he didn’t pay for the hotel.” He took a breath, then laid an almost fatherly hand on Robert’s shoulder. “You’re not gay, are you?”

“Not completely,” he said, though it seemed an odd way to put it.

“Like Tom Hannigan.”

“I’m nothing like Tom Hannigan.”

“To you, maybe. But to Liam, every bisexual could be another Tom.” Fergus squeezed Robert’s shoulder, his grip strong enough to be taken as a warning. “Don’t hurt him. You of all people should know—”

“I do,” Robert whispered. “And I won’t. I’d sooner cut off my own head.”

“All right, then.” Fergus pulled his knit cap from his pocket. “Make each other happy. I know you can. And be patient with him.” Fergus tugged his cap down over his ears, then grimaced at the elegant brass wall clock between the lifts. “Och, I’m late to meet John and the wedding planner—and of course by ‘late’ I mean less than fifteen minutes early.” He gave Robert a wry smile. “Have fun tonight.”

The lift opened again, and Robert stepped inside, wondering what to make of this. Why was Liam so keen to hide their relationship? Was he ashamed of Robert?

Be patient with him.

Before Dani, Robert had been
too
patient with girlfriends, letting them walk all over him, afraid to demand better treatment lest he drive them away. But when Dani had wanted to keep seeing him while adding other lads to her life, he’d finally had enough. He’d decided he’d rather be alone than be with someone who wanted a different sort of relationship.

Could he have that courage again with Liam?

Robert noticed the lift doors had closed, yet he’d not moved from the ground floor, probably because he’d been standing here fretting instead of hitting an actual button.

“Fuck’s sake.” He jammed his finger against the 10. As the lift jolted into its ascent, Robert felt his stomach drop.

He took a deep breath and held it until the lift dinged to signal he’d arrived at their floor. Then he let it out, telling himself to forget about the past and future and just enjoy this night.

After all, it might the only one he and Liam would ever have.

= = =

When the knock came, Liam dashed to the door, hoping it was Fergus coming back, having forgotten something.

Through the peephole he saw Robert’s face.

Fucking hell, he’s early.
What if he’d seen Fergus in the lobby?

Liam yanked open the door, then froze when he saw the whole of Robert, standing in the hallway wearing a beautiful dark-gray suit, his hair carefully styled so that one perfect curl dropped onto his forehead, slightly off-center, begging to be swept back into place.

“Wow.” Liam held onto the doorpost to keep himself upright.

“Hi.” Robert ran a self-conscious hand over the front of his jacket. “Can I come in?”

“Oh! Yes. Sorry, sorry.” He stepped aside. As Robert passed him to enter the room, Liam could see blue threads woven through the suit’s fabric. They played off Robert’s blue paisley tie and brought out the color of his eyes. “You look amazing.”

“So do you,” Robert said, though he wasn’t looking at him but rather back and forth between the two beds. Liam wanted to shove him down onto the closest one and tear off every piece of that suit. God, his arse looked fantastic in those smart trousers.

“This old thing?” Liam fidgeted with the edge of his brown corduroy blazer, the only half-decent jacket he owned. “It feels wrong on my body. You, on the other hand…” He came up behind Robert and smoothed the back of his suit. “You’ll make a proper businessman one day.”

“Not in this.” Robert turned to face Liam but didn’t put his arms around him. “Tech workers are required to wear ripped jeans and manky T-shirts bearing quotes from obscure seventies TV shows.”

“Ooh, hot.” Liam slipped his hands inside Robert’s jacket, linking them behind his back. “We’ve got dinner reservations in an hour, but I’ve an idea of what to do until then.”

Robert tensed in his arms. “What sort of idea?”

Liam let go and stepped away, sensing an odd vibe. “Some corporation’s having a massive holiday cocktail party downstairs outside the ballroom. I say we crash it and get ourselves some free appetizers and drinks. Though I did bring some Tennent’s. It’s in the fridge if you want one now.”

“By ‘idea’ I thought you meant…you know.” Robert’s gaze darted between the beds.

“I’ve many ideas which aren’t about sex, though those are some of my best.”

Robert furrowed his brow, apparently immune to Liam’s attempts at ice-breaking humor. “So you don’t mind appearing with me in public? What if we see someone we know?”

“We won’t.” When Robert tensed again, Liam realized that was the wrong answer. “I mean, no, of course I don’t mind being with you in public. Why would I?”

“I thought you wanted to keep us a secret.”

“I did.” Liam looked down at his scuffed brown loafers, thinking of how he’d shooed Fergus out of the room before Robert could arrive. He would tell Fergus about them tomorrow for sure. Or maybe Monday. “I was being a twat. Now I’m trying to be less of a twat.”

“But what about—” Robert cut himself off, his eyes guarded. “Never mind. This is a start.” He turned for the door. “Let’s go crash that party.”

= = =

Outside the hotel ballroom, Liam stood near Bane Financial Group’s registration table while Robert tried to convince the hostess they were brand-new employees who’d accidentally been left off the guest list. Liam marveled at how easily his best mate passed for a clean-cut middle-class young man.

Still, Robert returned without name badges.

“She didn’t believe you?” Liam asked him.

“No, but she said we could hang out and eat as long as we behaved ourselves and remained inconspicuous. Also, she gave me these.” He flourished four drink tickets, fanning them like a magician doing a card trick.

Robert and Liam redeemed all the tickets at once, assuming their cover would be blown within minutes. They stayed covert by moving continuously, each carrying two drinks and balancing a tiny appetizer plate on one glass. To Liam’s relief, Robert seemed to have shaken off the agitation he’d displayed upon arriving at their room.

As they paused to set their drinks on a high table so they could eat, a man in his mid-twenties strolled by wearing a dress kilt. Robert and Liam pivoted to gaze at his legs.

“I’d like to bite his kneecaps,” Liam said through a mouthful of stuffed mushrooms.

“Nah, the backs of his knees. More sensitive.”

Liam laughed, loving the fact he could add
ogling men
to their list of best-mate activities. Their friendship was now complete.

“Makes me feel underdressed, though.” Robert sipped his whisky, then gave the glass an
ooh-yum
look. “I wish we had kilts.”

“Let’s get some.”

“At this hour? And with what money?”

“You conned us these drinks, so I bet you could persuade two of these men to lend us their kilts for an hour.”

Robert shifted closer, slipping a cocktail straw into the corner of his mouth. “And what would we do in that hour?”

“What wouldn’t we do?” Liam lowered his voice. “Fergus told me he and John once fucked in their kilts.”

Robert’s jaw dropped. “Get away.”

“It’s true.”

“You’ll be wearing a kilt at their wedding, right? As the best lad?”

“I will.” Liam licked the grease off his fingers before remembering he should probably use a napkin. “Fitting’s next week.”

“Send me a pic.”

“No, I’ll not spoil it.” Liam put a hand on his hip and angled his shoulder flirtatiously. “You’ll wait until the wedding to see me in my real-life kilty goodness. And out of it too, if you’re lucky.”

Robert blinked, then bit his lower lip as if holding back a smile. “That’s nearly a month from now. You’ll not be tired of me by then?”

“Tired? Not if you keep me awake.”

Robert smirked but said, “I won’t hold you to that. We’ll take it a day at a time.”

Liam felt the warmth of gratitude sweep over him. For the first time in a year, the thought of promising himself to somebody for more than one night didn’t make him want to flee in panic.

“Mini quiche?” came a voice behind him. He turned to see a young waitress holding a tray of passed appetizers.

“Thank you.” Robert smiled at her as they each took several of the bite-size pastries. Then he angled his body to watch her walk away.

“Is she cute?” Liam asked.

Robert turned back to him. “Who?”

“Quiche lady.”

Robert glanced at the waitress. “Have you gone blind? Of course she’s cute.”

“It’s not obvious,” Liam said. The lass had a friendly smile, but her mouse-brown hair was drawn back in a smooth, nothing-special ponytail. She wore a pair of boring black trousers and a white dress shirt with a bow tie. “Would you hook up with her?”

“No. I’m with you.”

“But if you weren’t.”

Robert narrowed his eyes. “So it’s okay for me to notice a guy in a kilt but not a woman in trousers?”

“A guy in a kilt is obvious. A woman in a low-cut dress with her tits falling out would also be obvious. But that average-looking waitress?” He popped a quiche into his mouth. It was overly dry, so when he spoke, bits of pastry spouted forth. “I cannae see that coming.” He wiped his face with a cocktail napkin. “It’s like sailing on a sea full of submarines.”

Robert sighed. “Are you attracted to every man you meet?”

“Of course not.”

“It’s the same for me.”

“But you’ve got twice as many genders to choose from,” Liam said, “so that’s twice as many people.”

“Not if I’m more finicky. If you’re attracted to twenty percent of men and I’m attracted to ten percent of men and ten percent of women, then we’ve each got the same amount of competition.”

“Who said anything about competition? I’m not jealous.”

“If this isn’t jealousy, then what is it? Disapproval?”

“No.” Liam finally finished swallowing the mouthful of quiche, which he washed down with a gulp of bourbon. “Okay, it’s jealousy. I hate that there’s this mysterious force between you and women. One day it’ll steal you away from me cos it’s so fucking
acceptable
.”

“Mate…” Fixing an intense gaze on Liam, Robert reached out to touch his face.

Just then the speakers released a squeal of feedback, followed by a jaunty violin intro to a classic Christmas carol. A middle-aged man with CEO written all over him was standing at the end of the wide hallway, on a makeshift stage where the karaoke machine had been set up.

“Deck the halls with boughs of holly,” he belted out in a booming, off-key voice. “Falalalala lalalala!” He raised a hand, palm up, to encourage everyone to join in. His plea went mostly ignored.

“Shall we go to dinner?” Robert asked.

“Our reservation’s not for twenty minutes. Besides, I want to finish my free drink.” Mostly Liam wanted a few moments’ time-out after their heavy conversation. He could tell he was making an arse of himself. But as long as this Bane Financial bloke was decking the halls, Liam could at least feel like the second most awkward person in the room.

“All right, who’s next?” asked the CEO when he was finished. “Bruce, come on up here. Nigel? Philippa?”

Liam couldn’t see the people in question, as they seemed to have shrunk back into the crowd like turtle heads into shells.

“Surely someone wants to sing a nice tune,” the boss said into the mic. He paged through the binder of karaoke songs. “We’ve got some Frank Sinatra, or Elvis, or—oh, how about Pitbull? The young people like him, right?”

“Och, he needs out of his misery.” Robert walked briskly toward the stage.

Liam picked up Robert’s remaining drink, then weaved through the crowd to see him approach the CEO. The older man looked at him like a drowning man beholds a lifeguard.

“Welcome our first brave participant.” The CEO gave Robert a warm handshake. “What’s your name, lad?”

“Robert McKenzie.” He cast a charming, semi-shy smile over the crowd.

Liam heard several female sighs in response. He edged in front to stand to the right of the stage, about twenty feet from Robert.

The CEO beamed. “And what do you do at Bane Financial, Mr. McKenzie?”