A grin slanted Trey’s mouth. “That’s because you’re the lucky stiff whose shoes they wished they could walk in.”
Zane didn’t take offense. He knew Trey’s teasing was meant fondly. “I want The Bad Boys Club to represent a lifestyle. Work hard. Play hard. Look good while you’re doing both. I was thinking . . .” He hesitated, because this pushed the edge of his comfort zone. “Every so often, we’d do a spread with skin appeal: the best nude beaches in Europe, the hottest soccer players with their shirts off. We’d draw in male and female readers. Everybody likes visuals.”
“You mean everybody likes eye candy.” Trey laughed, patting the tablecloth to either side of Zane’s report. “You’d totally have to be the first cover boy.”
“Me?” Zane jerked straighter. He hadn’t thought of this.
“Absolutely. You are the brand you’re talking about: the guy women want to bed and men want to hang out with. I can completely see you pulling this off. Like Oprah with testicles.”
Zane choked on the water he’d been sipping. “Thank you for that image.”
Trey leaned across the table to grip his hand, passion animating his eternally interesting face. “You can do this, Zane. This is so not beyond your capacity.”
“I want you to do it with me,” Zane admitted.
Trey’s jaw dropped, his eyes gone round. His throat moved like he was having trouble deciding how to respond. Abruptly nervous, Zane pulled his hand back from him.
“I know you’re excited about working in DC. You’ll probably be advising senators before the week is out. The thing is, you’ll have more fun if you stick with me.”
Trey sat back and blinked at him.
“Full partners,” Zane went on stubbornly. “You wouldn’t be working for me like you did on the bookmaking. We’d be an equal team.”
Trey’s green eyes welled up. “Well,” he said, blinking them again rapidly. “I wasn’t expecting this.”
“Think about it,” Zane said gruffly. “We don’t have to stop being partners just because we’re leaving school.”
“Right.” Laughing softly—possibly at himself—Trey picked up his napkin and pressed it to his face.
“Uh,” said the waitress, choosing then to come up. “Did you decide on the wine?”
Trey laughed harder and dropped the shield for his expression. “Rebecca,” he said, looking at her directly despite his emotion. “We’d love it if you’d bring us a bottle of the Les Belles Filles Burgundy.”
Zane reminded himself Trey usually remembered server’s names.
“That’ll complement what you ordered.” Rebecca sounded like she knew . . . and like her customers ought to care. Evidently, she had confidence in her taste. “Shall I bring the bottle with the main course?”
“Please,” Trey said. The pair traded smiles, not as flirtatious as before but like they approved of each other and were enjoying it.
Zane bit his tongue against interrupting their mutual admiration society. If Trey wanted to make time with this girl, that wasn’t his concern. Because of who they were sexually, they couldn’t supply each other with everything they craved. Given a choice, neither would give up women as bed partners.
“I’ll take care of it,” Rebecca said, tapping her pencil crisply against her pad.
Maybe consciously or maybe not, as she walked off, Trey turned to watch her butt twitch in her plain black trousers. When she’d disappeared past a couple tables, he returned his gaze to Zane.
“I’ll think about your offer. I expect you could use an answer soon.”
“Soon would be good,” Zane conceded, “but take the time you need.”
Privately, he’d expected—hoped?—Trey would jump at the opportunity. Did his delay mean he was searching for a way to refuse? Would Zane feel half as excited about his dream if his best friend weren’t living it with him?
Uncomfortable with his doubts, he squirmed like a five-year-old through dinner, which—despite being tasty—couldn’t hold his attention. Trey mm’ed and savored per usual. The waitress and he didn’t share any more moments. Zane couldn’t decide if he felt relieved or guilty.
Since Zane was paying, Trey left the tip. Zane believed in being generous, but the pair of hundred dollar bills Trey pulled from his wallet raised even his eyebrows.
“The service was good,” Trey said as he stood. “Plus, she seemed like she could use it.”
His gaze evaded Zane’s, not a reassuring development. Just how sparked by this girl was he?