by Clare London
Aidan didn’t bother informing Titus that no one went to discos any longer, and he didn’t have time to be his most polite. However, he couldn’t ignore his stomach, which grumbled at the sight of the food. “Have you eaten too?”
Titus smirked and raised a mug of tea to Aidan as if in a toast. “Of course, Shakespeare. Oh, and you’re out of bacon now. Eggs too. And I know what a healthy appetite you have.”
Titus was incorrigible. He was eyeing up Aidan’s plate, obviously still hungry. “Eat this with me,” Aidan said, “but then you’ll have to go. I’ve got things to do.”
He had to get changed into some of Zeb’s clothes and get back into role. Then he’d go round to the offices of Dominic’s PA—Tanya had given him a business card, if he could peel it out of the back pocket of those painfully tight jeans—and try to find Dominic. That would be so much easier than trying to apologize by phone.
“Acting business?” Titus asked through a mouthful of tea and toast.
“Sort of. I have to go and put something right.”
The minute Aidan said it, he knew he wanted that more than anything. And not just for Zeb’s sake.
Chapter Fifteen
BY late morning, Dom still didn’t want to talk about the night before, despite his phone ringing off the hook with calls from reporters. In fact, he unplugged the bloody thing in the end. He’d sent a groveling text to Zeb from his phone to the emergency number Zeb’s agency had given him—well, it was meant to be groveling, but perhaps Dom wasn’t the most efficient texter on the planet—and then turned that off as well.
Dom just wasn’t cut out for all this angst and panic. Mountains were so much easier to deal with than men. They didn’t answer back, or express shock, or look so sexy in ridiculous clothes, or taste so damn delicious….
“Just take it easy,” Tanya had said. But that wasn’t Dom’s way, was it? He wasn’t used to this world of social chatter and charm. Dominic Hartington-George told things exactly as he saw them. And that was usually far too blunt for his audience.
He felt really bad about the evening with Zeb Z. He’d been prepared to write the whole thing off as a really bad idea when Zeb shot out of the club like a gazelle sighting a shotgun, but Tanya was forcing him to face up to it and rethink. Had Zeb’s flight been a lucky escape for Dom—or a surprisingly bitter disappointment?
Where did it all go wrong?
Zeb had been… not what Dom had expected. He’d anticipated a flippant, flighty thing with a head full of nothing but fashion. But Dom had spent a large chunk of time today reading more online interviews with famous models, and it was becoming clear to him that they worked bloody hard, came from all backgrounds, and had as much good or bad to say as any other damn person he met in life.
And Zeb had been a glowing example of a young man Dom would have been pleased to spend more time with if he, Dom, hadn’t been so buoyed up with prejudice and resentment. The guy talked about climbing and listened to Dom’s stories and opinions with genuine sense and interest. His stories of the modeling world had been amusing, almost as if he’d been a fellow spectator like Dom rather than involved in it so intimately himself. He was articulate and intelligent, and wasn’t so up his own arse that he didn’t tease Dom when it was deserved.
Yes, Dom could be a blunt bastard, but he also knew when he was being an arse and when he needed taking down a peg or two.
And then… the touching thing, at the club: “It’s natural we’ll touch and be close.” Right. But that had been the first step down the slippery slope. The minute Dom slid his hand around Zeb’s shoulders, he’d felt a rather odd but delicious warmth steal through him.
Like it was a real date.
What a poor, sorry sap he was!
Tanya’s right, I need to get out more.
The first touch of a fit young man and he’d melted inside. Bizarre. And then instead of treating the guy with respect and care, he’d pawed all over him. Had it been because of the drink? It had loosened both their tongues. First the chatting and the joking…. And, oh my God! The hairy thing. He groaned aloud at the memory of his clumsy joking about bears. What the hell had he been playing at?
He wandered into his kitchen, opened the fridge, shut it again. Turned on the kettle, switched it off. Food and drink didn’t tempt or soothe him as they usually would. He was restless because he had to sort things out. Dom didn’t shirk his duty, however unpleasant, and he always got things done. Those skills made him an excellent leader on a climb but didn’t seem to translate into normal, London-based life. His mother always relished pointing that out to him. Only the last time she’d visited, she’d scorned his frustration at not having the money to mount the Eiger expedition.
“I can’t help that,” she’d said crisply. “Your father and his ancestors have never had a head for money. If I hadn’t invested what money I brought to the family in property, we’d be living on the charity of others by now.”
Dom had almost bitten his tongue in half, trying not to point out that his high-handed mother hadn’t engendered any charitable feelings in anyone he’d ever met. “I’m not asking for charity. When my book comes out, I’ll be able to repay a lot of the debts.”
Or so his publisher had told him. They’d been thrilled with the photos from previous expeditions, but he had to finish the current climbing program before they’d consider a release slot.
“Well, don’t come to me,” she’d said. “I barely have enough to maintain a decent social calendar in town. Can’t you find some rich man to support your wandering ways?” She managed to make it sound as if he were philandering rather than mountaineering. His parents might have accepted him being gay, but they still had some pretty deeply ingrained prejudices about the “lifestyle.”
“It doesn’t work like that,” he snapped. “At least, not for me.”
His mother’s look had been odd. “Do you mean to tell me you’re a romantic at heart, just like your father?”
Dom had been startled. Somehow he’d never considered his imposing, adventurous father as a hearts-and-flowers man.
“Oh, not toward me.” At seeing the look on his face, she’d sighed rather bitterly. “The romance was all for his beloved mountains.”
“I’m not like that,” Dom had protested.
He had more to offer, didn’t he? He could offer a man something other than holding the fort back at home while he, Dom, traveled the world and conquered the elements. If he found a man he wanted to make those sacrifices for, of course.
Unbidden, Zeb’s face popped into his mind. And when he refocused on where he was and what he was doing, he found he was holding a dishcloth in his right hand and—inexplicably—a single egg in the other. His mind was so far off-kilter he was scaring himself.
Well, there was only one thing for it. He had to make this right, and not just for the sponsors either. He glanced around but couldn’t see where he’d slung his phone. He ought to see if Zeb had replied to his text—if he’d even acknowledged him. But maybe he’d go around to Zeb’s agency first and see if he could find the model there. That had to be better than a bald message.
Yes, that was a decent plan.
He grabbed his jacket and flung open his front door, where a blizzard of flashbulbs assaulted him.
“Dom!”
“Dom, are you going to meet Zeb Z?”
The photographers hung over his front hedge, regardless of any potential damage to the foliage or their clothes. Dom made a mental note to ask the young man who did his garden maintenance whether they could embed barbed wire in the shrubbery. Reporters called eagerly from behind the cameras, as if Dom would be remotely interested in engaging with them. He would rather have torn off his left arm and fed it to a passing dog. Or perhaps a reporter’s arm would be more rewarding, for both the dog and Dom.
“Dom! Over here, let’s have a shot!”
“How long have you two been dating? What do you talk about?”
“Is he in charge of your wardrobe now?�
�
“Dom, how about a word for our readers?”
Dom drew a deep, deep breath. He wouldn’t normally censor the actual word he was tempted to give “our readers,” but Tanya’s words about taking it easy rang clearly in his memory. He suddenly imagined Zeb’s face after reading the headlines in the gossip press if Dom actually spewed the profanities he was currently thinking.
A feeling even more bizarre…. Dom couldn’t ever remember worrying what a man thought of him before doing exactly what he bloody well wanted.
He struggled through the crowd toward his SUV, with his lips pursed shut and sporting the most intimidating frown he could manage. He slammed the door temptingly near a reporter’s hand and revved the engine until they all scattered out of his way.
“Is he in charge of your wardrobe now?”
Bloody hell.
Chapter Sixteen
AIDAN leapt the stairs to the exit at Holborn station two at a time, keen to get to the street and make his way to Long Acre, where Tanya’s office was. More than a few people stared curiously at him, but he relied on their British reserve to keep them at a distance, and people’s natural disbelief that they’d actually see someone famous struggling on the daytime Tube. Plus the whole Covent Garden area of London was a media center. It was nothing unusual to see celebrities there—in fact, Lukas’s agency was just around the corner on Macklin Street. But if he hadn’t wanted to draw attention, maybe he shouldn’t have used so much of Zeb’s products—Aidan’s hair seemed to spike up in a completely different way from his twin’s—or maybe the padded jacket with its Union Jack fur collar and diamanté-studded seams had been overkill.
Good grief, this model lifestyle is fraught with pitfalls.
In a hurry, he rounded a corner by one of the small Italian cafés and ran straight into another man. The familiarity of the cologne hit him a millisecond before he recognized the build of—
“Dominic!”
“Zeb!” The other man leaned back, just as shocked. They stared at each other for a full twenty seconds.
“I’m on my way to find you—” Aidan finally started.
“—On my way to apologize—” Dominic broke in.
They both stopped talking, then tried again—but at the same time—and stopped again. Dom started to laugh, and loudly. A clutch of businessmen in smart suits swerved around them in alarm, and a hiss of brakes from a passing bus made them dodge back into the shelter of the café.
Finally, Dom calmed down enough to ask, “Will you join me for a coffee?”
Aidan, smiling in return, looked at him more carefully. He’d forgotten what a twinkle there was in Dominic’s eyes, what passion and strength of character they hinted at. “Yes, that’d be good. Is here okay?”
“Of course,” Dominic said, though he didn’t take his gaze off Aidan’s face and as far as Aidan could see, hadn’t even glanced into the café. But Dominic’s tone was one of obvious relief.
They did the you-first dance in the doorway until Dominic gave a snort of frustration and pushed Aidan inside ahead of him. Aidan wandered over to a free table toward the back of the room, sat down, and picked up the brightly colored laminated menu.
“I’ve ordered us both latte and carrot cake,” Dominic said abruptly, appearing at the seat beside him.
Aidan blinked hard, then caught sight of the sumptuously thick cake under a clear dome on the counter and nodded happy agreement.
Dominic’s face twisted with a strange kind of grimace. “I mean. If that’s all right with you.”
“Yes, it’s great. I love carrot cake.”
Dominic sat down but seemed very restless.
Aidan peered at him. “Are you okay? Do you want to go somewhere else?”
“God, no. Or maybe… if you do?”
Aidan laughed. “What’s going on? Why are you being so weird?”
“Weird?”
“Dominic, you know what I mean. You’re being… oh, I don’t know. Considerate, maybe? Nice?”
Dominic looked as horrified at the description as if he’d been smacked in the face with a frying pan.
“Exactly,” Aidan said, dryly. “I may not have known you for long, but you’re not acting your usual assertive self.”
Their coffees arrived and Dominic didn’t answer immediately, but he was clearly impatient for the waitress to move away again. Aidan made sure he smiled extra gratefully at her, and even asked if she could bring over another pot of sugar sachets. They sat for another couple of minutes in silence until she brought over the sugar and then bustled away again.
“Are you bloody teasing me?” Dominic hissed.
“Yes,” Aidan replied quite calmly. And then grinned. “I can’t resist. It’s a bit of a coup, I imagine, to have Dominic Hartington-George worrying about my wants and needs.”
“You make me sound a right selfish tosser.”
“No,” Aidan said softly, dropping his gaze to his milky coffee. “But you can make yourself sound like that. I wish you’d take better care, for your own sake.” When he looked up again, Dominic was staring at him. “You said, in your message, you wanted to talk.”
“I realized straightaway I’d behaved badly,” Dominic said in a gruff rush. “Last night. What kind of a bully was I?”
“No, you weren’t.” Aidan couldn’t bear that confused, anguished look on Dominic’s face, and hurried to reassure him. “How stupid was I, for that matter? Panicking at the sight of a few cameras when we were in a public bar and should have been expecting it.”
“We were planning on it. At least, according to our publicists.”
“Yes. We were.” Aidan felt a wisp of strange sadness.
“That’s not the real issue, though, is it?”
Dominic’s eyes looked very fierce over the rim of his coffee cup. Aidan could see the waitress taking the long way across the room so that she didn’t come too close to their table again. “What do you mean?”
“If you’re anything like me, you’re not shy or apologetic about the attention. But why should you have to put up with it when you’re on a night out, or when you don’t want to be disturbed, or when you’re…?”
Aidan waited for Dominic to finish the sentence, but he didn’t. “Kissing?” Aidan ventured, astounded at his own boldness. He met Dominic’s startled gaze with his own. For a long moment, they fell silent again. Remembering? Aidan felt a slow blush start to creep up his neck. He stabbed his fork into his cake and took a huge bite.
Dominic tilted his head, his expression quizzical. “You’re a mischievous kind of fellow, Zeb. Sharp. And witty too.”
“You mean, for a model?”
“And still full of issues, I see,” Dominic said wryly.
Aidan laughed and some cake crumbs sprayed back out onto his plate. The café was full of the warm aroma of brewing coffee and rich pastry. He was ridiculously happy at seeing Dominic again. Who cared if he was being rash? “You’re right. Who am I to nose away at your business when we’re just here for promotional purposes?”
Dominic winced very slightly. “Yes. Of course we are. But I like it.”
“I’m… sorry? You like what?”
Dominic paused before replying. He reached a hand to Aidan’s face and brushed off a cake crumb that still clung to his cheek. “I like your nosiness. Your wit. Your sharpness.”
Aidan gave up trying to rationalize what was happening and stuck out his hand. “Let’s shake on a joint apology, right?”
When Dominic shook enthusiastically, Aidan bit back a grimace from its firmness.
“And how about another chance?” Dominic said gruffly.
“Sorry?” Aidan kept repeating apologies all the time. He couldn’t imagine Zeb doing that.
“Will you go on another date?” Dominic picked up his coffee cup, then put it down again too sharply. He flushed. “Dammit. I mean, please?” Aidan shook his head and laughed. “What the hell—?”
“No, I’m sorry.” At Dominic’s bemused expression, he contin
ued. “I’m not laughing at you. I just didn’t expect… I was just surprised. At you wanting to go out again. I thought I was too uptight for you.”
“You were too…? You?”
Aidan felt the blush rising right up to his cheeks. He and Dominic were a pair of precious, easily embarrassed blossoms. “I was on my way to ask the same thing of you. A second date, that is.”
“You were? Well, that makes it all perfectly right again. Doesn’t it? Unless that shake of your head means you’ve changed your mind?”
“No. I mean, yes. It was just surprise.” Just pleasure. Aidan couldn’t stop smiling. “Things do seem to be okay again. Though I’m mortified at the stupid things I said, about you treating me like a mountain peak to climb.”
Dominic waved his hand dismissively. “What about my growling like a real bear, trying to tempt you with my chest hair, for God’s sake?”
They laughed together. Dominic didn’t seem to be able to drag his eyes away from Aidan’s mouth, while Aidan wondered if it was too soon to ask for the second date right now. Then something caught his eye over Dominic’s shoulder. “Isn’t that your PA’s assistant outside the café?”
“Eric? Where?” Dominic swiveled around in his chair.
Eric was clearly peering in through the café window at them. He had a cardboard holder with four coffees in one hand and was waving at Dom with the other. “Hello!” he called, though they could barely hear it from inside. He looked very excited. “Dom! I’m over here!”
Dominic gave a groan. “I refused to go into the office today, but I never imagined he’d be roaming the bloody streets stalking me.”
“That’s paranoia talking,” Aidan scoffed. “He’s probably just on a coffee run.” More movement from behind Eric distracted him again. People were clustering up against the front window. There was the flash of a camera. “Oh, for God’s sake.”
“What?”
