Cold Shadow (Cold Country #2)(29)

The smile he knew so well frozen on the handsome face, but Drew could still pretend it was a coincidence, except for the eyes. Eerie, pale, silver eyes beamed at him from across the room. Drew likened them to laser pointers on his rifle. He was trapped in the beam, unable to move. Unable to even fucking breathe.

The tall, lanky man stopped moving and turned to follow his partner's gaze. The hair was different, the eyes concealed, but there was no mistaking Quinn Anders even if the clothes were wrong. Shit.

He leaned back in his chair, draping his arm over the back. He caught the hoop on the left side of his lip, tugging at it with his teeth. He liked the way it felt. Not really painful, but not pleasant either. He stared at Quinn in the glasses, knowing he was being studied from behind the dark lenses. The one eyebrow arching above the frames told him as much. Quinn smirked back. He liked the way Quinn's mouth hitched in a half-smile.

He remembered that smile too, from the days they sat across from each other at Nathan's bedside. Three days in which the world outside was kept at bay by a massive snowstorm. There was no way out of the hospital, and no one but them to keep each other company. Quinn had alternated between floundering in obscene grief and self-deprecating mockery. His snarkiness had no real boundaries.

The nurses, the doctors, hell, even Drew had been on the receiving end of his sharp tongue. Drew had learned a great deal about Quinn's life in those three days. More than he thought Quinn meant to tell him. Sometimes he wasn't sure Quinn even realized he was talking when he reminisced about growing up with Nathan. Falling in love with Nathan and hating Nathan for abandoning him, he half-blamed Nathan for his addictions. But he knew deep inside that he never would have found the life he had now if Nathan had stayed.

Drew knew them both so well and not at all. Sometimes over the past few years, he wondered what would have happened if he more than halfheartedly dated Natalie Truman. What would have happened if he'd let her fall in love with him? She'd wanted to. And to be honest, the original attraction had been real. He could have stayed. He could be with her now. Still lusting over her brother. Still pretending the eyes he gazed into were masculine instead of feminine.



       
         
       
        

He'd done the right thing. After he tracked Nathan to the little island in the Keys, he'd confessed the attraction for Nathan to her. But she already knew. It was over before it even started, which was good.

The two on the dance floor spoke to each other, Nathan looking up the slight distance to Quinn, his lips quirked in a predatory smile. The taller man nodded to him but his lips were tight. And as Drew watched, they made their way across the dance floor, the crowd parting for them. Nathan took the seat beside him, Quinn sat directly across from him. Neither spoke. But he did. "Shit."

"More like busted." Quinn lifted his glasses up on top of his head, his incredible blue eyes sparkling in the throbbing lights.

"Does that disguise work for you? Slicked-back hair and sunglasses is all it takes for Quinn Anders to blend in at the local gay club?" He grabbed a passing waiter and asked for two beers and a soda for Quinn. The waiter looked them over, his eyes lingering on Quinn a little too long. He winked and walked away.

"Not my demographic, and hell, if they were, who would expect me to show up looking like this?" He leaned back in the chair, his body spread out for Drew to admire. The silk shirt he wore was too tight, too short, and almost see-through. "The glasses make me unapproachable."

"And Nathan?" He glanced at the silent figure sitting beside him. His eyes studiously aimed at the dancers grinding into each other. "You're not worried about someone recognizing him?"

"If Nate draws attention, it isn't because of the few times he's been seen with me, it's because he's so fucking hot and doesn't even know it. Drives them crazy. Shit, he drives everyone crazy. You wouldn't believe the people who contact Maria wanting to sign him to model underwear or jeans or nothing at all. Jesus Christ."

"Shit? Again? Who this time?" Nathan sneered when the waiter brought their drinks.

"Lauren, baby, and Armani. They would airbrush the scars out of the photograph."

"I'm not posing for anything, damn it, Quinn. I hope Maria told 'em where to go." He was surly and agitated. His eyes focused and intense. "Let's get out of here."

"We just got here." Quinn patted his knee, letting his long fingers linger on Nathan's leg. Drew couldn't help but follow his hand, the muscles in Nathan's thigh bunched when Quinn eased his hand up a fraction. "Anyway, Drew, how's tricks?"