“I really am sorry. It happens sometimes, but usually if you’re nice, the fans back off once they realize they’ve sort of invaded your personal space. Believe me, this was nothing compared to some stuff I’ve seen.”
Mark didn’t want to think about it. He wanted to preserve the evening, and he reminded himself that not everything that happened in the bar was all bad. By taking the lead, Zane pretty much said that Mark mattered to him. That was definitely something worth tucking away to think about later.
They moved slowly down the path into the night air and Mark found himself smiling.
“What is it?” Zane asked, that eyebrow of his popping up quizzically.
“I was thinking about the advice you said your friends gave you and I was wondering what it was, actually.”
“Oh. You mean the advice that exploded in my face? That advice?”
Mark smirked and laughed again.
“Gah,” Zane blurted in resignation. “They told me that if I was too nervous to talk to you like I wanted, than I should try to act confident—like one of my characters—and it would come a lot easier. Mikey was like, ‘You gotta be The Mercenary, man.’ I tried it and we both saw what happened.” Zane squeezed Mark’s hand and let it go. “Ridiculous right?”
Mark recalled the way Zane cut through the water and looked at him in that open, strong way, his whole body an invitation, and shrugged. “I wouldn’t use that word to describe it at all. It got us here, didn’t it? Besides, once you gave up the act, you really had my attention.”
“No kidding?” Zane asked huskily, coming to a slow stop in front of Mark’s bungalow.
“Word of honor,” he answered, his own shyness creeping out and forcing him to look away. “You’re too hard on yourself. I thought you were…really nice.”
Zane ducked his head and stepped into Mark’s line of sight so he could see his face. “Do you mean nice as in sweet, cuddly teddy bear? Or nice as in you’d go out with me again?”
Scrunching up his face like he wasn’t thrilled at the prospect, Mark eventually shrugged. “I guess the second one. Maybe.” When Zane’s lips spread in a slow, meaningful smile, Mark considered dying a happy man.
“Then, maybe tomorrow you might like to do something with me? Explore the wonders of Bora Bora?” Zane stepped in closer, effectively blocking Mark in the entryway of his bungalow.
Mark sucked in a breath. “I’m scheduled to risk my life on an underwater expedition at ten. Interested in possibly inhaling water through your snorkel to get a glimpse at some fish?” Mark was good at keeping things light and he was trying his damnedest to keep the dear-God-in-heaven-make-love-to-me vibes from his voice. Physical attraction aside, he wanted to see more of this man. He was doing an ex-Baptist’s calisthenics inside, praying that Zane didn’t have any plans with his buddies.
“I was really hoping when I flew out here that I’d at one point or another get to accidentally inhale a chest full of water. Now that you’re making it possible, I can move on with my life,” Zane said lightly, surprising Mark again by closing the last of the distance between them.
Their chests were almost touching and he didn’t have to look far to meet Zane’s gaze. Their bodies were partially framed by the light from the flickering torches and Mark was struck by the romance of the moment. It was like a movie scene for real and he was about to be kissed. Zane really did know when to take the lead.
“Until tomorrow, then…” he whispered.
Zane’s lips fell to his and, God, were they soft. He didn’t rush anything; it was simply a subtle brush of mouths, the perfect amount of pressure. Mark’s eyes fluttered open and the look in Zane’s caused a quick intake of breath. The restrained heat was obvious and it made Mark restless seeing it. If he wanted to keep his self-respect, he needed to get inside his bungalow—alone—and get to bed—also alone—before he tackled the man and dragged him inside.
Zane backed away slowly, his lips curving in the most sensual of ways as he moved off toward his own bungalow.
Annnnnnnd cut! That’s a wrap.
A chance meeting on a shuttle boat, a random conversation, one dinner date later and Mark was choking on the excitement coursing through him. His lips had officially made the big time. The mouth that had kissed famous women that most guys would cheat on their girlfriends for, had kissed him.
Once he was comfortably inside his own bungalow he collapsed backward onto the king-sized bed and stared at the ceiling.
“Best first date of my fucking life,” he exulted, his face breaking into a huge smile. Where was that bitter queen now?
CHAPTER FIVE
Blue balls. Zane thought. Are the worst.
His body was pissed that he’d left things with a simple—almost chaste—kiss between him and Mark. His crotch was ready to conga right on into the guy’s bungalow, while his brain was detailing a list of why that was a bad idea. For one, it was way too soon. They might’ve had a great time chatting at dinner, but that didn’t mean they should go crazy. Also, he wasn’t sure if Mark was actually single. The other man acted like it, but what did that mean nowadays?
Zane really didn’t want to get his heart dragged behind the chariot again. The last guy he’d been with worked with the production company on one of his films and that went way south, way fast, when he’d found out that the guy wasn’t single. It took months for the tabloid whirlwind to end. Twitter feeds were blowing up with all sorts of stories about it. Zane hated stuff like that--everywhere games and he had to play along and act invincible as people hashtagged him to death.
There were always cameras flashing on the red carpet. Inane interviews with the same stupid question asked for the hundredth time… He had to force himself not to grab paparazzi cameras and throw them to the pavement when he was out for a damned jog with his trainer or visiting his mom in North Dakota. And it didn’t matter that he was openly gay, some women who thought they could “turn him straight” were vicious, and avoiding men who only wanted to add his name and his cock to their hit lists was exhausting. So many people out there had no self-respect.
Zane loved his work, but there were some hefty tradeoffs, and questioning his decisions in romance was part of that. Mark wasn’t setting off any of his alarms; he hadn’t even asked any direct questions about movies or other actors. The conversation was all about real things, like family, and Zane couldn’t remember the last time he’d been so at ease with someone who wasn’t part of the circle of friends he kept very close.
Mark was genuine and kind. And hot, his crotch called out, voting with both balls.
God, he’d wanted to kiss Mark so deep and raw that the man wouldn’t ever forget it. Instead, he’d frozen and lingered, his nerves getting the best of him. Hence the blue balls and the inability to fall asleep.
A tropical breeze was blowing through the open deck doors of his bungalow and he sighed at the smell of the ocean air and flowers. Big changes were coming his way, he could feel it. Good things. Maybe it was premature, but Zane wanted Mark to be a part of his future in the worst way. He wanted to date him and work towards a real relationship with him, as uncertain as he felt admitting it.
They could start with a snorkeling date at ten.
That was the thought going through his mind when his phone rang and the giddy excitement was sucked out of his chest as Jenny spoke.
“I’m sorry to do this to you, but you need to come home. Like, yesterday.”
Zane sat up in bed, fighting the sudden weight resting on his chest. “What’s going on? Why?”
A muffled sigh and the sound of papers. “It’s really late here, or really early, whichever way you want to look at it, but I’ve been on the phone and in meetings all day about this Richtfeld role. The production company doesn’t want to move forward because they don’t get the idea that you’re as interested as they want you to be. The money to back the film is in place, ready to go. Other actors have signed on and I think they’re slow playing us. I’m really getting the sense
that they’re dragging their feet because you aren’t around to proclaim your interest in the role.”
“Good Lord, Jenny! I’m on my first vacation in years and these guys are pissing on this project because of that?”
“I’m hearing whispers that it’d be one thing if you were on location shooting something and couldn’t make it in person to meetings, but it’s another that you’re on vacation and letting me do the talking.”
Zane cursed again. “So what you’re really saying is that these guys don’t think you can speak as my representative.”
“Oh no—they’re letting me talk about you up and down, but they want to see your ass in a chair at their polished conference table. This is a huge part, Zane. You know that better than anybody and even though I can tell they really want you in the role, they also want to see how much you want it. It took them years to get the rights to this story, and they want it to be authentic while they’re raking in the dough.”
“This is horse shit, Jenny,” Zane growled. “Before I left L.A. I was on the phone with these guys, selling myself for this part. I discussed with Pete—at fucking length—the process they went through to get the rights and he knows I’m the guy for this role. I’d put everything into it. Now after all of that I have to leave my vacation to come and dance for him and his buddies? Such shit.”
“I get it. I get it,” Jenny soothed, “and I agree, but they’re talking about a huge budget and their nervous about audience response.” She paused for a long moment and Zane braced himself for whatever else was coming. “I also got a call from a contact of mine who heard that they dropped a couple feelers into Brad Pershall’s camp about it.”
“You’re kidding me.” Jenny’s silence was all he needed to let out another groan. “One day. I’ve been gone one day.”
“I know, honey. And I know how badly you need this vacation, but if you really want this role, you need to get back here and let them know. Give ‘em all the fanfare about not being able to relax with this project on your mind and how you flew back to do whatever you needed to do to be involved. If you want to move on to something else and stay in Bora Bora, you can do that, too. I highly doubt it will be a career ender. Besides, I have more than twenty scripts I could deliver to your house tomorrow for you to choose from, if you want.”
Zane kicked his feet out from beneath the sheets and planted them on the floor, one hand rubbing at the bridge of his nose where a tension headache was growing. He’d wanted this part for years, ever since he read the book about Garrett Richtfeld, a World War II flying ace, and through some providence, he even looked like Garrett. Zane had begun research on buying the story rights when he discovered that several production companies were already competing for it and he was late to the show.
“I wish I could get across how much I wish this weren’t happening right now. I mean, if Pete weren’t being an asshole about this, I could stay here and see—”
He cut himself off before he got too sentimental and spilled his guts.
“The date went that well, huh?” she asked, her voice comforting.
He let out another gusty breath. “It was awesome, Jen. We were supposed to get together to snorkel or something tomorrow morning. I just…I get a good vibe with him. He’s not after the fame or the money. He’s a genuinely good guy.”
“You learned all of that from one dinner date?”
Zane could tell she didn’t want to rain on his parade, but she’d been there during his last few broken hearts and was incredibly protective of not only his career, but of him. To be fair, she and his publicist had to fight some of the bigger battles when tabloids heard whispers about his love life, too, and she probably wanted to avoid more of that if at all possible. He couldn’t blame her even if her commission was sinful and made up for the trouble.
“I know what you’re thinking, but he’s been so different. He wants to hear about me. I told him about my mom! I was really excited about this.”
“Well, talk to him before you go,” Jenny reasoned. “Tell him what’s going on. Invite him to come with you, even. It doesn’t have to end there unless you want it to. Do you think he’s as interested in you?”
“I hope so,” Zane blurted. “He isn’t playing it cool or anything, but you know I suck at reading things like this. We kissed. He acted like he enjoyed it.”
“Hmm. Kiss on the first date? That’s a big deal for you. Shoot, making it to the first date is a big deal.”
“I know.”
“Seriously, don’t give up yet. Talk to him—that is, if you’re coming back.”
“I want this role, Jenny.” He was firm. “I’ll head back tomorrow, first thing. Tell them I’m on my way.” As much as he wanted to stay and get to know Mark, he couldn’t jeopardize this opportunity based on a small hope. It was too soon to know their potential anyway. Maybe this would be a good test…or…the beginning of nothing at all.
“You want me to make the arrangements and send them to your phone?”
Wow. Jenny really did feel bad. This was a new one.
“Would you? I don’t really want to spend the rest of the night on the phone with an airline.” A beep sounded in his ear signaling a new message arriving. He shook his head in recognition. “You already booked the flights.”
“I had a hunch.” Zane could almost see her shrug as she answered.
“When do I get in to L.A.?”
“Seven. I’ve got a driver lined up for you. He’ll take you to your place and then to my house for a cocktail party that I’ve invited the execs to. Jet lag or no, I’m afraid you’re on.”
Zane wanted to either throw up or punch something. “I’ll be there,” he sighed.
Jenny filled him in on a few more details from her meetings before winding down. Hearing the depression in his voice she said, “Give him something to remember you by, Zane. Make sure that when you walk away, he has a reason to follow. Know what I’m saying? You’re a great, gorgeous guy. His response to this will clue you in on the type of person he is as well. If it’s any help, I’m rooting for you.”
***
The noise started out as a gentle tapping that squeezed its way into Mark’s dream. Tap, tap, tap. He readjusted his head, pushing further into the pillow. Tappity tap. More insistent now. He groaned and pulled the blankets up over his head and fought his hardest to stay in that dreamlike state before certain wakefulness. It had to be a bird. Did woodpeckers have habitats in Tahiti? Tap, tap, tap. It grew into a full-fledged knock and Mark lifted his head groggily. Not a bird.
Who in the hell? He wondered. Had he forgotten he signed up for some bullcrap sunrise yoga and Pilates thing? He didn’t do yoga. There was no way he’d sign up for that. Breakfast in bed? Newspaper? Did Tahiti even have newspapers?
The knock sounded again, really meaning business now, and when he heard his name being called, he managed to wrestle his way out of the blankets to a wobbly stance at the end of the bed. He stared hard at the door like it would swing open from the weight of his bleary-eyed glare.
“Mark?” The voice was muffled, but he would be able to recognize it anywhere now.
“One sec,” he called out hoarsely. First thing in the morning he always sounded like he was doing a lousy James Earl Jones impression. Mark looked down at himself and realized that the boxer briefs wouldn’t do, so he hopped back and forth getting his legs into his shorts, his coordination shot. He should maybe reconsider the yoga thing.
Shuffling to the door, he swung it open wishing he had time to brush his teeth. About to apologize, his words stopped short in his throat at the sight of Zane standing on his doorstep.
The man was in designer jeans and a black t-shirt, his sunglasses blocking his eyes but not his grim expression. He was still perfectly, awesomely attractive. That expression, though, it had Mark uneasy—and then he noticed Zane’s bags sitting behind him.
“You’re leaving?” he blurted, stupidly hurt. The year’s worth of snark that had built in him during his futile at
tempt to get Rafe, came roaring to the surface just when he thought he’d gotten over that bitchy shit.
Zane pulled off his sunglasses, his eyes filled with regret. “I really wish I didn’t have to, but I got a call after I got back last night and there’s a hitch in this project I’ve been wanting to do for years. I need to go and take care of it.”
Mark leaned a shoulder against the doorjamb and braced his opposite arm on the door. “What about your vacation?” What about me? He sighed inwardly at the pathetic question that sprang to his mind unsolicited. They’d had one date. Zane owed him nothing. But…
“I’m not going to check out of my room so that if I can make it back there’s no problem. This job,” he waved his hand around, “is getting out of control in L.A. and unfortunately, the vacation comes second on this one.”
Mark nodded and let go of the door to run his hand through his hair, knowing he must look like shit. Sappy shit at that. The thought that he wished Zane had woken him up the night before once he’d heard this news flipped around in his brain.
This is dumb, he thought. Really dumb. There was no reason to feel attached to this man, no matter that he was the best first date Mark ever had. Because that was just it: Zane was a first date. There’d be more dates in his future with other guys…probably. He hoped. And who was he trying to kid? Zane could have anyone he wanted, male or female. How could Mark measure up to all those people out there pawing for the man’s attention? He told this to himself over again and sighed when he knew it was going to take more than that to convince him. Why couldn’t Mark keep things simple?
“Mark.”
Zane’s voice was softly intense, an attention grabbing combination, and Mark’s eyes shot to his.
Question Mark Page 5
