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“The terrine of foie gras.” After all these years of fine dining, the French pronunciation rolled off his tongue. “We’ll get back to you on the wine.” His tone was soft, his penetrating green eyes reclaiming their intimate hold on hers. The girl’s soft mouth parted, as if she saw something in his consideration that perplexed her. For a couple seconds, the pair stared at each other.
“I’ll . . .” She cleared huskiness from her throat. “I’ll put your tickets in right away.”
As she spun jerkily and walked off, Zane struggled with his shame. “She was cute,” he observed, some part of him unable to leave dogs sleeping.
“She was,” Trey agreed, now perusing the wine list. His manicured index finger trailed as smoothly down the page as it could stroke an erection. He didn’t mention that Zane had effectively cock-blocked him.
That meant Zane really was obliged to act mature.
“You could probably get her number.”
Trey looked up and smiled. He seemed to know what had just happened—even if Zane preferred not to sort it out. “What’s in the portfolio?”
“Oh. It’s . . . a business proposal I wanted your feedback on it.”
The weird exchange with the cute waitress seemed to be over. Trey traded the wine list for Zane’s zippered leather case. He opened it, pulled out the stack of bound pages, and flipped through them. Though his movements were swift, Zane knew his friend was reading.
As he did, his expressive lips began curving. “You want to call your business The Bad Boys Club?”
“It conveys a feeling. Exclusive but still fun.”
“I agree.” Trey turned a few pages back and forth. “This is a big plan, Zane. A magazine. Luxury vacation properties.” His saturnine eyebrows quirked. “A fleet of fractional jets?”
“I want to create a brand. I wouldn’t try to do everything at once.”
Trey closed the neat report. “You’d start with the magazine.”
“Yes.” Zane was relieved he saw it the same way. “I know magazines are risky, but this one is designed to be ad heavy. We’d do articles on the coolest expensive watches or the best wines for impressing your girlfriend. So many people are insecure about spending money. Whether they have a lot or a little, they want to know they’re buying the right things. Of course there aren’t ‘wrong’ things, but they want someone to guide them. People who won a bet were always asking my opinion on how to celebrate. It was like they needed my approval.”
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?
“Okay,” Zane said, wondering if he should say more. In the end, he decided no comment was safer. They walked out onto the street where the sun had set and the temperature was cooling. The commercial area was popular. Shoppers and diners came and went. Zane paused on the sidewalk, squinting through the streetlights to see if he could spot stars. They were blurry, but he found a transparent three-quarter moon.
Please say yes, he thought silently to his friend.
Trey stepped closer to him, the back of his hand brushing the back of Zane’s. Traffic rolled by, some of the cars recognizably driven by students. In a what-the-hell reaction, Zane wove their fingers together.
Trey bumped his shoulder companionably.
“I want to do it,” he said. “The thing is, I’m sure I haven’t saved as much money to invest as you.”
Zane’s heart jumped inside his chest. “Your brain is worth more than mine.”
“True,” Trey agreed.
Zane turned to him, wanting to kiss his sly smirk so badly he hurt.
“Careful,” Trey teased, the smile deepening. “You look like you’re on the verge of a PDA.”
Zane growled deep within his belly, beginning to tug Trey urgently toward their parking spot. He hadn’t realized he was getting hard while it happened, but now his cock pounded. Trey laughed, guessing exactly where the night was going.
Zane was so eager it took two tries to unlock the silver convertible.
“I can drive,” Trey offered, not hiding his amusement.
“I’m faster,” Zane refused.
Trey didn’t wait for Zane to get through the next intersection before he reached past the armrest and manhandled his erection.
