by Diane Leyne
He couldn’t see his face yet, but he caught a glimpse of his hair. It was hard to miss. It was red. Bright red. He’d only known one other person with hair that color, but he hadn’t seen him in two years. He had a feeling that Peter was avoiding him just as hard as he was avoiding Peter, but he knew that one day they’d meet again. And when they did, he’d feel obliged to beat his former best friend to a pulp, but they’d never crossed paths and he’d been relieved.
It had only been in the last few months that he’d started to think about the good times they’d had. For the longest time, he’d only remembered the sense of betrayal, but you didn’t just walk away from over thirty years of friendship without some regrets or lingering memories. He’d see a particular piece of new equipment or maybe watch a ménage playing and think that he had to tell Fire what he’d seen. Or maybe he’d think, wow, Fire would want to try that.
He’d even thought that maybe it was time to reach out to him. Maybe grab a coffee somewhere nice and public. He wasn’t ready to see Jackie again. Maybe he never would be, but maybe he and Peter could be friends again or at least in the same room without him wanting to beat Peter’s brains out.
But now…He frowned again. It wasn’t. It couldn’t be. Not again. Nick moved again, trying to get a better look at who this newcomer touching his woman was. When he finally got a better look at that shock of short red hair, he felt like his world had tilted on its axis. He felt a churning in the pit of his stomach. Fate couldn’t be this cruel.
He moved further along the wall. Just then, the redhead turned toward him. He’d recognize those brilliant green eyes anywhere. Peter Firenelli met his gaze and smirked. He smirked! Then he lowered his head and kissed Sarah. First on the forehead. Then he said something to her and kissed her again. On the mouth. The mouth. Then he looked up and winked at Nick. Suddenly Nick felt ill. It was happening again.
Turning on his heel, he walked up to Sean and whispered in his ear. Then he disappeared out the side door and a few minutes later, another man took his place against the wall beside the head table.
* * * *
Peter Firenelli knew that Nick was in the room before he even saw him. It was like a sixth sense. He felt a shiver go down his spine and he just knew. It had been two years since they’d been in the same room, but some things never changed.
Actually casually, he surveyed the room and quickly spotted Nick leaning against the wall near the front of the room. His back was turned and he was talking to someone that Peter thought was Sean O’Malley, Head of Security for Whelan Corp and its subsidiary, Club Libertine, and Nick’s boss. He couldn’t see his face, but there was no doubt who it was. He’d recognize those shoulders and that ass anywhere. Thank goodness he was across the room, just about as far away as he could be and still be in the same room or Peter might not be able to control himself. Even after two years, he loved Nick wholly and completely.
He scanned the crowd. If Sarah was sitting anywhere near Nick, Peter was going to leave. He was still in a weakened condition, not from the food poisoning he’d used as an excuse. He’d drunk too much because he’d known Nick would be here and he was terrified of what his reaction would be. The man had avoided him for two years, but Peter’s feelings for him hadn’t died. He’d thought they would wither away with disuse, but he still loved Nick Della Corte as much as he had when they’d met in kindergarten and Nick had saved him from some big, bullying grade-one girls.
It was funny in a way. It had been girls that had brought them together and it was a woman who’d driven them apart. They’d both responded to Jackie’s betrayal almost like they were trying to live up to their nicknames. Peter “Fire” Firenelli had tried to fuck his way back to life. He’d burned his way through sub after sub, both male and female, until he’d finally taken a temporary vow of celibacy to get his head back together.
Nick had gone the other way. He’d frozen everyone out. He’d become the Iceman, an embodiment of his longtime nickname, due to the steadiness of his nerves under the most trying situation as much as the unusual color of his eyes..
The difference was that Peter had woken up one day and the raging fire within him had died, and he was ready to move on. In fact, he’d fallen in love. It was unrequited love, but he’d still been able to open his heart.
But as far as he knew, Nick had never unthawed and he’d certainly never forgiven Peter for his role in how things had ended.
Peter had been careful to ensure they’d never run into each other until he felt that Nick was ready to talk, although he kept an ear open for news. Many mutual friends had passed along updates. It didn’t seem like Nick was moving in the right direction.
It had been two years and Peter was getting desperate. Either he and Nick would reconcile, or they wouldn’t. He was tired of this limbo. He’d make Nick listen to the truth of what happened and the chips would fall where they may. With luck, they would then try to rebuild their friendship. Of course, there was a possibility that Nick still would want nothing to do with him, in which case he’d have to lay down his torch and move on with his life. It was this second possibility that scared the shit out of him. What if Nick learned the truth and still didn’t care?
That’s why Peter had decided to come to this conference with Sarah. He could see Nick in a casual setting. No pressure. He could take the temperature of their relationship and decide how to proceed. It had made perfect sense. Then he’d chickened out, drinking himself into a stupor last night. He’d lied to Sarah and told her he had food poisoning, but he’d just been really hung over.
It had taken him half the day, but he’d finally worked up the courage to continue with his plan. Maybe if they met in public, Nick would have to at least acknowledge him. Or maybe he’d just cut him dead. Who knew how Nick’s mind worked nowadays?
He finally spotted Sarah sitting almost under his nose. She had a spare chair beside her with her briefcase resting on it. Smiling, he walked up to her and leaned down to whisper in her ear. “Is this seat taken?”
She’d been so delighted to see him. She’d smiled broadly, kissed his cheek and swept her briefcase to the ground. After he got settled, she took his hand and asked, “Are you feeling okay? Should you be here? You look a little pale.”
He smiled wanly and hoped she’d think it was food poisoning and not because he was in the same room as Nick Della Corte for the first time in more than two years.
She was so beautiful, and the look of concern on her face almost made him regret lying to her about the food poisoning.
Sweet Sarah. She looked on him as her gay best friend and he wasn’t sure how to change things without making her feel like an idiot for all the times they’d hung out over the past six months and the things they’d talked about. She’d never have shared the way she did if she’d known he was bi. Maybe she would even feel that she had to stop spending time with him. He was afraid to chance that. He’d already lost one of the great loves of his life. He didn’t want to risk losing the other.
He looked up. He could almost feel the heat of Nick’s gaze on him. Who thought ice couldn’t burn? He leaned over until he could see Nick. Nick wasn’t staring at him. He was staring at Sarah. Sarah. Oh my god, he thought. All their lives, they’d fallen for the same woman, dated the same woman, and when they became adults, shared the same woman. Loved the same woman. Or they had, until Jackie had come between then.
Could they both be interested in the same woman again? Could Sarah be the catalyst to bring them back together?
He decided to test his theory. Yawning and stretching, he set one long arm out on the chair behind Sarah, then he wrapped it around her and pulled her close. He could practically feel the intensity of Nick’s gaze burning through him. If looks could kill and all that. It was far too raw to be just about Jackie. Nick didn’t like to see him with Sarah, he deduced. He decided to test his theory.
Leaning down, he kissed her. It wasn’t a sexual kiss, at first. He kissed her forehead.
“Peter?
” Sarah’s voice was soft and questioning. He pulled her closer and she melted into him, her sweet face looking up at him in surprise.
On impulse, he leaned down and kissed her lips, giving into a desire he’d suppressed for months. He’d never kissed her on the mouth before, afraid that if he started, he wouldn’t be able to stop. But under the heat of Nick’s glare and the warmth of Sarah’s body, Peter had given into an urge and he wasn’t sorry.
It had been a brief kiss with so many people around, and no tongue, but when he’d pulled back, he’d known that something fundamental had changed in their relationship. From her reaction, she knew it, too.
“Peter?” she repeated his name.
He looked down at Sarah who looked…bemused.
“I’m not sorry I kissed you, Sarah.”
“Me neither, but I don’t understand what that meant.”
“I’ll let you know when I figure it out.”
He looked up and saw that Nick was now staring at the both of them, his face impassive. Then Peter did some he’d probably live to regret. He smiled and winked at Nick. He watched as Nick went pale. Dammit. Why did he do that? Oh, who was he kidding? He’d been punished for the last two years for a crime he hadn’t committed. Of course, some place deep down, he wanted revenge. But he wanted Nick back in his life more. He had a feeling, though, that he was going to pay for that wink, but at least this time, he’d be guilty.
He checked the wall again. This time Nick was gone. He wasn’t sure if he was on his way to confront Peter or if he had work to take care of, but suddenly Peter wasn’t ready to confront his former friend and lover.
“Peter, are you okay?”
“I’m fine, Sarah. Just…just my stomach is acting up again.”
“I’m sorry, Peter. Are you sure you should be here? Maybe you should…”
“You’re right. I need to leave. Now.” He looked around a little wildly. Still no sign of Nick. His heart was pounding. Was he having a panic attack?
“Do you need me to drive you? You look pale, Peter. I thi—”
He leaned down and kissed her quickly.
“Gotta go.” And then he fled.
Cutting Sarah off in midsentence, he babbled something about an unsteady stomach and fled. There was no other word to describe it.
Chapter Three
Six weeks later
Sarah looked at the name on the e-mail. Nicholas Della Corte. He was going to be her teaching partner at the series of three seminars that they were giving on the BDSM lifestyle. She thought about it. No, the name meant nothing to her, although she’d allowed herself to fantasise that it was him. Ice, as the subs had called him.
He hadn’t returned after the lunch session, although she’d kept looking for him, if only to thank him for putting Graves in his place. Yeah, right. Don’t lie to yourself. Okay, that wasn’t strictly true, but it would have been a great excuse to have a conversation. But the Iceman, to her disappointment, hadn’t returned.
Peter had shown up after lunch, though. He hadn’t stayed long before rushing out. Poor thing, dragging himself down to the session after suffering from food poisoning. He’d only lasted a few minutes before he’d left again. He was a little delirious, too. He’d kissed her. Really kissed her. On the mouth. He’d never done that before. They were best friends. They talked about everything. Well, almost. They didn’t talk about whatever it was that gave him that sad look when he thought no one was watching, but they talked about everything else.
Sometimes she wished he were straight. He was the only man, at least until she’d met the Iceman, who she’d felt attracted to in the last year. She’d had fantasies of turning him straight, of being the one woman in the world that he was attracted to, but she was still together enough not to confuse fantasy with reality. He was gay and she had to respect that. It wasn’t like it was a choice. He’d been born that way and she would never do anything to make him think she judged him in any way. And she’d never tell him about her silly crush and embarrass him. Or worse, make him feel awkward around her.
Then there was Silver Eyes, or the Iceman, as she’d now learned he was called, at least by the subs. She was fantasizing about him, too.
She sighed. Clearly there was something wrong with her. First she fell for a gay man and now she had a crush on an emotionally unavailable Dom whose name she didn’t even know.
And now this Nick Della Corte was e-mailing her to set up a time to meet and discuss how they’d handle the sessions she’d volunteered for. One part of her wished she’d never volunteered, but it was only 3 sessions. She’d get through it. Who knew? She might even enjoy herself. And this Nick Della Corte. Maybe he was the Iceman. Or maybe he was better, and they’d fall in love and he’d give her his collar and they’d live happily ever after. But she really wanted it to be Silver Eyes.
She hadn’t really expected it to be him, though. He didn’t strike her as the type who would enjoy being in front of a classroom teaching newbies. No, he was the type to eat a newbie for breakfast and pick his teeth with their bones.
She laughed at her own foolishness and dreamed of Silver Eyes again that night. And this time, he wasn’t alone. Peter was with him.
She had to shake off these fantasies. They were taking over her life. Just because the Iceman liked a ménage, that didn’t mean that Peter did. Besides, he liked men. Get that through your head, Sarah. Stop mooning over unavailable men while you are at it.
She studied the e-mail from Nick Della Corte. She read the careful, almost stuffy syntax and decided he must be an academic, definitely not Silver Eyes, who appeared to be something to do with security.
After giving it far too much thought, she decided that her partner was most likely the sandy-haired, academic-looking Dom from the head table who’d sat beside Mac Whelan that the session.
And so she pulled up into the parking lot of the community center where the sessions were held. She’d agreed to meet Nick an hour before the session started so they could talk to the two instructors. She turned off the engine of her Prius but didn’t get out of the car. Until she formally met him, she could continue her fantasy that she’d be working with the Iceman for the next three months, a fantasy that had haunted her dreams for the last few nights.
Once she actually walked in and saw Mr. Della Corte in person, she knew the fantasy would die and she decided to hold onto it just a little longer. She looked down at the little clock on her dash. Three minutes.
Damn. She was being silly. She started to open her car door and was just exiting when a pickup truck of some sort came roaring into the lot, pulling into the only free space available without a pause. Of course the available space was the one beside her, and of course the arrogant son of a bitch pulled up too close with that monster truck of his and now she had to slide across and exit through the passenger door.
She was not amused, not one bit. She was going to tell the miscreant just that and make him move it. She wasn’t crawling in the side door when it was time to leave.
* * * *
Nick Della Corte was running late. He hated being late, especially since he would be seeing Sarah again. He’d changed three times before ending up back in jeans and a black T-shirt. He felt like a teenaged girl on her first date, not a Dom who had been practicing the lifestyle for almost twenty years. So he was in a bad mood when he’d roared into the parking lot. He’d spotted the last available space and had roared right into it with barely a pause.
It wasn’t until he got out of the truck that he realized that the big oak on his left meant that his parking spot was smaller than usual. No wonder it was empty. It also meant that he’d probably blocked access to the driver’s side door for the car on his right.
Then he’d realized that the driver was still in the car. Damn. Could anything else go wrong? Apparently the answer was yes. As he hurried over to the other car ready to offer to move his truck, he saw the driver awkwardly slide over to the passenger side and exit.
He hurried towar
d her, the apology on his lips dying when he saw just who the other driver was. Crap. She was furious. And she was right, and he was wrong.
“Hey, Sarah.” He stepped forward out of the shadows cast by the big oak. “I’m so sorry. Let me…” He knew the exact minute, the exact second when she’d realized it was him. She didn’t seem pleased. Awkwardly, he finished his sentence. “…move my truck.”
Unlike him, Sarah had dressed up, wearing a slim-fitting skirt and some high-heeled fuck-me pumps. When she saw him, she lost the focus she needed to walk in those incredible sexy shoes. Luckily, his reflexes were still good. Maybe not SEAL-days good, but good. His thigh, however, was not. He’d had three operations and could do almost everything he could before, but there were some limitations.
Apparently moving abruptly forward to catch a damsel in distress who was falling was one of them. His thigh gave out and he couldn’t stop her fall. He did roll so he broke her fall as she landed on him, her elbow colliding painfully with his nuts.
He gave an abrupt shout of pain and tried to roll up into the fetal position, causing her to be knocked off him and onto the damp pavement right on that magnificent ass of her. Even in his pain, he prayed she wouldn’t be bruised. He wanted to be the only one to mark her there. Although, he thought as he rolled to his side, it would be his mark, at least indirectly.
The pain was starting to subside and he stood up slowly, making sure he could put weight on his bad leg, but it seemed fine. He turned to Sarah, the joking comment dying on his lips. She looked horrified.
