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“What do you think of this one?”
Knight leaned in and inspected it. “Harry looks a little too airbrushed.”
“He does not,” gasped Philip. “He looks perfect. Look how Lake made his eyes pop.”
“What does the actor himself think?” Lake asked, beckoning Harry to look.
Harry grinned. “I look amazing.”
“Sure do, your pictures are amazing,” Philip said. “Good enough to display in a gallery!”
They scrolled through the other pictures and Harry decided on his favorites.
Lake agreed he chose the best ones. “Now all you need is to print them.”
Philip clapped. “There’s a proper artist’s printshop around the corner from my apartment. Give me the files and I’ll get them printed.”
Harry blushed, and Lake smiled widely. These guys were totally falling for one another.
He delivered Knight a pointedly smug look, and Knight shook his head. Again.
Whatever.
A year from now, he’d be wearing a forest-green bow tie.
Lake pulled off his T-shirt and chucked it to the floor. The last ten hours in his small office clung to him in a musk of stale donuts and sugared coffee. Friday, at last.
He needed a good long soak, followed by a night of hanging out in the lounge, silently warring with Knight over control of the remote.
He withdrew his buzzing phone from his jean’s pocket and plunked down on the king-size bed.
Taylor: Two weeks till we’re back!
* * *
Lake: And . . .?
* * *
Taylor: I miss you. Now your ego has been placated, do you remember West?
* * *
Lake: West who?
* * *
Taylor: My best friend from high-school? Who went to London for two years?
* * *
Lake: I forgive you for having a life before me.
* * *
Taylor: How has my dad not chucked you out, yet?
* * *
Lake: He’s holding on by a thread.
* * *
Lake: And I suspect he’s waiting for me to finish Moby Dick that I took from his bookshelf last weekend.
* * *
Taylor: How far through are you?
Lake glanced at the fat book on the bedside table.
Lake: It’s a whale of a book.
* * *
Taylor: ??
* * *
Taylor: Anyway, West emailed me. He wants to meet up when I come back. I figure you and dad will throw a brunch or barbecue, so I’m sending you his number to give him deets.
* * *
Lake: Do I have to worry about West coming back into your life?
* * *
Taylor: You might be excited. He’s smart, gay, and single.
* * *
Lake: Give me his number.
Grinning, he leaped off the bed and swung open the bathroom door.
Light hit his eyes, and then blue tiled walls, and then Knight, one hand on the shower door, poised to enter.
Shocked stillness seized Lake; liquid-brown eyes met his, startled.
Lake blinked. “Whoa. I didn’t expect . . . so much skin.”
Knight looked down at himself. “I’m heading into the shower. I’m supposed to be naked.”
A weird laugh jittered out of Lake. He’d never seen Knight with a towel around his waist, let alone the gently muscled lines of his legs, the taut curve of his ass, the broadening planes of his back.
He was gorgeous. And half-hard, like maybe he’d been about to take care of himself during his shower. Lake’s feet curled, squealing against the floorboards. God, look away!
Lake gulped. “Sorry, I should have heard the water running.”
Knight tucked a towel around his waist. The scant cloth left one brawny thigh exposed. “Eye-contact and apologies generally go together.”
Lake jerked his gaze up Knight’s powerful body to his enviably calm expression. No shyness, no embarrassment. No humor either.
His eyes were anchored on Lake, reading his every movement—his every thought? Lake wanted to turn the pages for him.
Hope flickered in Knight’s eyes and zipped like a current between them.
Lake’s breath shortened, and his nipples and balls tightened. That was . . . that was really a sign how long it’d been since he’d been laid. Biological neediness and all that.
Neediness that was obvious, thanks to being shirtless and wearing stretch-fit jeans.
Horrified, Lake ranted, “Shouldn’t you be wrinkly?”
“I’m forty-four.”
“Shouldn’t you be very wrinkly?”
Disbelieving laughter shot out of Knight. “Shouldn’t you be looking elsewhere?”
“I can’t. Oh my God, I’m checking you out.” Lake palmed his eyes and backed out of the bathroom. “Taylor will murder me. Don’t you dare tell him. I’ll never accidentally look at your insanely hot naked body again.”
“Careful, the dresser’s behind you.” Firm hands grasped Lake’s forearms, pulling him forward, the slide of his fingers rippling through him, electric.
Gently, Knight urged Lake’s hands from his eyes.
Their gazes met and Knight’s fingers tightened around the heels of his hands for an extended breath.
He let go and a curious ghost-like touch clung to Lake.
“What are you thinking?” Knight asked quietly.
He was close. So close, heat radiated from him.
Lake laughed, then swore. “Will this get awkward? I don’t want awkward with you.”
“It won’t get awkward.”
“Are you sure?” Lake pitched his voice to a whisper, “Because I didn’t want to look away.”
