Lover Mine(111)

Or like tears.





FORTY





Blay had no idea what Saxton had just handed him.

Well, yeah, it was a cigar, and yes, it was expensive, but the name hadn't stuck in his head.

"I think you're going to like it," the male said, shifting back in a leather armchair and lighting up his own stogie. "They're smooth. Dark, but smooth."

Blay flicked up a flame off his Montblanc lighter and leaned forward for the inhale. As he took the smoke in, he could feel Saxton focusing on him.

Again.

He still couldn't get used to the attention, so he let his eyes wander around the place: vaulted dark green ceiling, glossy black walls, oxblood-color leather chairs and booths. Lot of human men with ashtrays at their elbows.

In short: no distractions that could come close to Saxton's eyes or voice or cologne or--

"So tell me," the male said, exhaling a perfect blue cloud that momentarily eclipsed his features, "did you put on the pinstripe before or after I called?"

"Before."

"I knew you had style."

"Did you?"

"Yes." Saxton stared across the short mahogany table that separated them. "Or I wouldn't have asked you to dinner."

The meal they'd had at Sal's had been . . . lovely, actually. They'd eaten in the kitchen at a private table and iAm had made them a special menu of antipasto and pasta, with cafe con leche and tiramisu for dessert. The wine had been white for the first course, and red for the second.

The topics of conversation had been neutral, but interesting--and ultimately not the point. The thread of will-they-or-won't-they was the real driver of every word and glance and shift of body.

So . . . this was a date, Blay thought. A subtextual negotiation slipcovered in talk of books read and music enjoyed.

No wonder Qhuinn just went for straight sex. The guy wouldn't have had the patience for this kind of subtlety. Plus he didn't like to read, and the music he pumped into his ears was metalcore that only the deranged or the deaf could stand.

A waiter dressed in black came up. "Can I get you guys something to drink?"

Saxton rolled his cigar between his forefinger and thumb. "Two ports. Croft Vintage 1945, please."

"Excellent choice."

Saxton's eyes returned to Blay's. "I know."

Blay looked to the window they were seated in front of and wondered if he was ever going to stop blushing around the guy. "It's raining."

"Is it."

God, that voice. Saxton's words were as smooth and delicious as the cigar.

Blay switched his legs around, crossing them at the knee.

As he searched his brain for something to kill the silence, it looked as if no-shit-Sherlock comments about the weather were as close to inspired as he was going to get. The thing was, the end of the date was starting to loom, and whereas he'd learned that he and Saxton both mourned the loss of Dominick Dunne and were fans of Miles Davis, he didn't know what he was going to do when it came to parting ways.

Would it be a case of Call and we'll do this again? Or the infinitely more complicated, messy, and pleasurable, Yes, as a matter of fact, I will come over and look at your etchings.

To which his conscience compelled him to add: Even though I've never done this with a guy before, and in spite of the fact that anyone but Qhuinn is going to be a poor man's substitute for the real thing.

"When was the last time you were out on a date, Blaylock?"

"I . . ." Blay took a long draw on the cigar. "It's been a long time."

"Whatever have you been doing with yourself? All work, no play?"

"Something like that." Okay, unrequited love wasn't exactly in either of those categories, although the no-play was certainly covered.

Saxton smiled a little. "I was glad you called me. And a bit surprised."

"Why?">

"My cousin has a certain . . . territorial response to you."

Blay turned his cigar around and stared at the glowing tip. "I think you vastly overread his interest."

"And I think you're politely telling me to mind my own business, aren't you."

"There's no business to mind there." Blay smiled up at the waiter as the guy put two port glasses down on the round table and backed away. "Trust me."

"You know, Qhuinn's an interesting character." Saxton reached out with an elegant hand and picked up his port. "He's one of my favorite cousins, actually. His nonconformity is admirable and he's survived things that would crush a lesser male. Don't know that being in love with him would be easy, however."

Blay didn't go near that one. "So do you come here often?"

Saxton laughed, his pale eyes glinting. "Not for discussion, huh." He looked around with a frown. "Actually, I haven't been out much lately. Too much work."