by Tinnean
“Give me a hand with the cooler. You’ve certainly got it stocked, and it will be easier if we both carry it.”
“Or we could always have dinner on the boat.” His gaze was considering. “Then we won’t have to take the bag with us, and the cooler will be a little lighter.”
“Is that a good idea?”
“I like it. Don’t you, Quinn?”
Well, yes—dinner under the stars, who could resist? But, “How will we get back to the cottage? You said you didn’t bring a flashlight.”
“That isn’t a problem. We’ll just spend the night here.”
I frowned at him. “I really don’t think so.”
“Quinn—”
“I want you next to me. The bunks are too small and too far apart, and frankly, I’m not adventurous enough to sleep on a wooden deck.”
“It’s fiberglass.”
“Whatever. If either of us needs a chiropractor in the morning, it’s going to put a definite damper on our time together.”
“Is that what has you worried? The bunks open up into a double. Not as big as what we’re used to, and I may be closer to you than usual, but—”
I stopped his words with a kiss. “In that case, let’s start getting dinner ready.”
IV
WE WERE up before light on December 31, in order to close up the cottage, sail to Limón, and leave the Varlebena to be serviced by Manuel and his father for the next time.
“There’s going to be a next time, Mark?”
“Well, yeah!”
“All right.” I caught my duffel and headed for the cab that was waiting to take us to the airport for the first of our connecting flights back to the States. I didn’t want him to see my smile, which was so broad it felt like it would split my face.
Despite the two-hour time difference, it was only midafternoon by the time we landed in DC. Mark had parked his mundane-looking car in the long-term lot at National, and from there we drove to his condo in Aspen Reach.
We were not only spending New Year’s Eve with my family, but we’d been invited to spend New Year’s Day as well. Mark needed to pick up his tuxedo as well as pack fresh clothes, since we planned to leave directly for Shadow Brook after dining at Raphael’s.
“Y’know, you’ve got an overnighter at your place; you could bring the duffel up and leave your clothes here,” he groused as he stuffed the used clothing into the hamper, not that they’d seen much use. We’d spent most of the time wearing only a layer of sunscreen, sated smiles, and very little else. It had been a unique sensation for me, and I’d enjoyed it.
“The clothes in it need to be washed.”
“I could send them out with mine.”
“That’s kind of you to offer, Mark—”
“‘Kind’ has nothing to do with it. It’s expedient. If you’ve got clothes here….”
He’d know definitely I’d be returning?
He shrugged. “It’s just handy.”
“You’re right. I’ll replace them the next time I come over. I’ll need to return your duffel bag anyway.”
“Yeah? Okay, then.” He “expediently” packed a change of clothes into a compact overnight case—shirt, trousers, socks, underwear, a pair of loafers.
And his shaving kit. He hadn’t shaved while we’d been on his island, not until the evening before we left, and I’d been aroused by his ever-darkening five o’clock shadow. I hadn’t told him, of course, since Manns weren’t supposed to be stirred by anything of that nature.
“Okay, I’m done.” Fortunately Mark had no idea where my thoughts had wandered. “Let’s go. Here. Make yourself useful.” He thrust the garment bag containing his tux into my arms.
“Yes, Mark.”
“Hah.” He picked up the carry-on, and we walked out of his condo.
There was the usual series of locks, and I was interested to note that while the sequence was the same as it had been the previous week, it was different from the time before that, and I knew it would be different the next time I spent the night with him.
“Taking notes, Mann?” He headed for the stairwell.
I followed him, hiding a smile. If I wanted, I’d be able to discover the sequence.
And if I asked, I had no doubt he’d tell me.
A touch to his key fob unlocked the trunk and the rear door of his car, and while he placed his carry-on in the trunk beside the duffel I’d borrowed, I laid the garment bag on the backseat.
Once he got behind the wheel, I reached across the console and rested my hand on his thigh. “I thought that when I come over again, perhaps… perhaps I’d leave a suitcase? For the next time we go away?”
“Yeah?”
“Well, you did promise to come with me to Key West.”
“I did, didn’t I? In that case, okay.” His hand covered mine, and he squeezed it once before releasing it to put the car in drive.
I stroked his thigh a final time, then removed my hand, not wanting to distract him. I leaned my head back against the headrest and closed my eyes, thinking of being in a car with Mark, in a dark, secluded place, of wandering hands and possible consequences.
The driver’s seat in this car needed to go back farther than in the average car, since Mark was a tall man and his legs were long. At its farthest setting…. I swallowed and licked my lips, picturing myself crouched above my lover, lowering myself onto his rampant cock, riding him—
“So. What did you think of my island?”
Abruptly brought back to the present, I straightened. From the corner of my eye, I could see him grinning. Had he stolen a peek at my crotch and seen the way my own rampant cock was tenting my trousers?
I cleared my throat. “I think whoever named it was correct. It is a sheer delight.”
A flush mounted his cheeks.
“Mark? Who did name it?”
“Uh… That would be me.”
I was surprised—Mark had never struck me as whimsical—but wasn’t about to tell him so.
Maybe that was one of the problems. No one gave him credit for having an imagination, at least not when it didn’t entail getting the job done expeditiously.
“I hadn’t planned to buy it, y’know.”
“No?”
“With the way the world’s going to hell in a handbasket… I intended to find something down under, in Tasmania maybe, or New Zealand.”
My arousal subsided. “That’s a long way away from Costa Rica.” I didn’t like the idea of him that far away.
“Think I don’t know that? Of all the people in the world?” A mocking grin twisted his lips, and I wanted to rub a thumb over them, to smooth the cynical expression from his face.
“What were you doing in Costa Rica? No, never mind. I know you can’t tell me.” Or wouldn’t tell me.
He made a noncommittal sound, and I thought he’d turn on the radio or change the subject. To my surprise, he did neither.
“Would you believe it was only because of lousy weather? The flight was diverted to Juan Santamaria International, and I had time to kill. I could have gone to the west coast, but I flipped a coin and went east. It’s only a forty-minute flight to Limón. I rented a boat to go fishing and came across the island. At first I thought it was just a chunk of rock in the middle of the Caribbean, but then I found the passage. When I sailed through that breakwater the first time…. I’d never seen anything so beautiful. It took my breath away.” The cynical expression was gone, replaced by one that was almost wistful. “You… uh… you don’t think—Fuck it. It’s a stupid, fanciful name. I must have had my head up my butt—”
“No, Mark. I think it’s perfect. And I promise your secret is safe with me.”
His fingers twitched on the steering wheel, and I wondered if he’d been about to reach for my hand. He didn’t, however. Instead, this time he did turn on the radio.
V
THE ten-minute drive passed quickly, and soon Mark was pulling up in front of my town house. As I was retrieving the duffel, I heard myse
lf hailed.
“Mann!”
“Who’s this clown?” Mark was immediately beside me, his hand concealed in his overcoat.
“It’s all right, Mark. McVey is my neighbor.” I nodded toward the house directly across the street.
“Ah. The nosy one.”
McVey and his wife, who’d been a dual income, childless couple when they’d moved into the neighborhood a few years earlier, now had triplets. I’d occasionally see her wheeling her toddlers in a tandem stroller and would greet her in passing. She always looked tired, which was no doubt the results of raising three children, all boys, all the same age.
“Yeah? Well, I don’t like the looks of him.”
“You can keep your hand on your gun, but don’t shoot him. I have to live in this neighborhood, remember.”
“Maybe you ought to come live with me.”
I knew he didn’t mean it the way it sounded, so I simply smiled at him and turned to greet McVey.
“Hello, Mitchell. Happy New Year.”
“Wh—oh, happy New Year.”
“How are Barbara and the boys?”
“Well.”
“I’m glad to hear that. Be sure to give her my best.” He glared at me, and I decided to get down to business. “What can I do for you?”
“You can apologize for putting the neighborhood in an uproar and my family in danger!”
A chill crept up my spine. “Would you mind explaining that?” I’d always kept my work and my private life separate. What had occurred while I’d been on Mark’s island?
“Yeah,” Mark growled. “He’s been away for a week.”
“What business is it of yours?”
“Mann’s my friend.”
McVey gave my lover a look that started out as condescending and quickly descended to derisive. “I’m sure.”
I rested my hand on Mark’s arm. The last thing I wanted to deal with on New Year’s Eve was a contretemps with the local police. “What caused the uproar, Mitchell?”
He curled his lip at Mark and then turned his attention back to me. “A wooden crate arrived at your door the other day.”
“Oh, for fuck’s sake—”
“Mark.” To my surprise, he actually subsided.
“Everyone on this street knows you work at State. You know as well as I do that in this day and age we just can’t be too careful!”
“That’s true.” And I hadn’t ordered anything. “Continue.”
“Well, when we saw the box sitting on your doorstep for two days, we—that is, the block association—informed the police. The bomb squad came out and dealt with it.”
I exchanged a glance with Mark. We both knew there were characters out there who had little regard for either of us. It was quite possible that one of them had decided a little revenge was in order.
“What did the bomb squad discover?”
“It was a… a case of wine.”
“Wine, or bombs placed in wine bottles?”
“No, it simply contained wine.”
“I see.” Mother had been to France this past summer to replenish her wine cellar. She could have ordered some for me as well.
But if that were the case, she would have mentioned it to me.
“Was any left?”
“No.”
“I assume the neighborhood isn’t concerned that I will require compensation for the destruction of my property.”
“Hardly. That’s not the point, Mann! The fear! The distress! If Barbara were pregnant again, she could have miscarried! You should have made arrangements with your friend to have the wine delivered somewhere else if you weren’t going to be home.”
“My friend?” I didn’t understand the emphasis he’d placed on that word.
He held an envelope by a corner, as if he was afraid it would contaminate him, and then I did understand the snide twist he’d given the word.
I took the envelope from him. It had my name and address on it, and there was something about the writing that struck a chord.
I set that aside when I realized the envelope had been opened. I raised my eyes and stared at McVey steadily
He had the grace to shift uncomfortably. “It was taped to the top of the case. Trust a Frenchman to want to save on shipping and postage.”
“Hmm.” I tapped the envelope against my palm. “Who opened it?”
He pokered up. “I assume it was someone in the police department or on the bomb squad.”
I withdrew a plain white sheet of paper and unfolded it enough to see the signature, then slid it back into the envelope, feeling at somewhat of a loss.
Why had Armand written me after all this time? And where was the leap of joy my heart should have given on seeing his name?
Meanwhile, Mark was doing a little lip-curling of his own. “Since Quinn isn’t at fault here,” he sneered, “I don’t see where you get off demanding an apology from him.”
“You don’t scare me!” McVey glared at Mark. I’d never considered my neighbor a fool, but obviously I was wrong. “Do you have any idea of the uproar—”
“Yeah, yeah, you said that already.”
“Mark.”
“Quinn, you’re not going to—” He saw the expression on my face and bit back what he’d been about to say. “Okay, fine. You deal with this asshole.”
“Thank you.”
“I resent that! I am not—”
“Now, McVey, I intend to contact the bomb squad and lodge a protest. They had every right to open this letter, but they had no right to give it to you.” Or anyone else, for that matter. It should either have been held for my return, or given to a member of my family.
Since the bomb squad was professional in the extreme, I had a strong suspicion that they had never seen the envelope.
“What… they… you…. I’m your neighbor!”
I had nothing more to say to him. I turned on my heel and walked up to my door, removing the key from my pocket. Mark lingered behind, probably to say something to put the fear of God into McVey.
“Come on, Mark.” I didn’t need anyone to defend my honor, although it felt nice. “We don’t want to be late.”
“Fucking fags! No wonder Susan stopped seeing you, Mann!”
“Mark!” I didn’t bother turning around. I knew he would be on the verge of punching McVey. “If you strike him, we are going to lose our reservations.” I swallowed a smile as I heard McVey’s footsteps hurrying across the street.
Mark went back to his car, removed the garment bag with his tux, and then stalked up the walk. “He’s just lucky I’m a reasonable person,” he snarled.
“Thank you.” I unlocked the door and entered, with Mark at my heels.
“For what?” He didn’t wait for me to answer. “He works at Justice, doesn’t he?”
“Yes.” I dropped my duffel bag and reset the alarm, not bothering to ask how he knew.
“And ‘Susan’ is the woman you’d been seeing last year. She wouldn’t have been good for you, Quinn. You did the right thing breaking up with her.”
“How did you know that?” Susan had been very unhappy with me, and I’d agreed she could tell everyone she’d been the one who’d decided to no longer continue seeing me. I’d only spoken to one person about ending that relationship, and he was dead.
“C’mon, Quinn.” Mark looked exasperated. “What woman—or man—in his right mind would break up with you?”
“Any number of them, as it turns out.”
“I said in their right mind. Jesus, are you fishing for compliments? Fine. You’re gorgeous, you’re hot, you have a great sense of humor, you’re honorable. And did I mention hot?”
“Yes, Mark.”
“Well, there you go.”
“Thank—Hmm.” My attention was caught by the hall table. “I should have had my mail held.” Bills, invitations to charity functions, and magazines were stacked in neat piles on the table, placed there by my cleaning service.
And since they’d done that, why hadn�
��t they brought in the case of wine? I put Armand’s envelope with the mail and removed my overcoat.
“Who’s it from, Quinn?”
“Armand Bauchet. He was a… a boyhood friend.”
“I know what he was,” he growled. A frown darkened his face. “What does he want?”
“I have no idea. I merely looked to see who had sent the letter. I didn’t read it.”
“Well, read it now!”
“No.” My answering machine was blinking, demanding my attention, and I pressed the button.
For some reason, I wasn’t in any great rush to learn why my first lover felt the need to contact me after all these years.
The first call was dead air. According to the date stamp, it was made on the afternoon of Christmas Day.
“Odd. I didn’t think telemarketers worked holidays.”
“Those bastards are Satan’s spawn, and like their sire, they never sleep.”
“I suppose.” Something about the hiss and crackle of the background noise niggled at me.
The next call was from Cara Mia, who would soon be my Uncle Tony’s ex-wife. “Quinn, I just wanted to thank you for the gifts you sent to Sunday and me. It was such a thoughtful thing to do, especially with the unfortunate way things are going. She loves it and loves her Uncle Quinn as well. Oh, and thank your friend too, for the Princess She-Ra doll. John says since it’s in its original packaging, it’s a collector’s item and will probably be worth a fortune one day.”
“John Cisco is a good man,” I murmured. My uncle had known him when he’d been in the ATF.
“Hmm?”
I gazed at Mark from the corner of my eye. He was apparently ignoring the message, staring at the envelope that contained Armand’s letter as if he could see through the paper to the words on the page.
“Go ahead and read it, Mark.”
“Huh? What makes you think I want to….” He met my eyes, and then shrugged. “It’s not my business.”
“No? You mean to tell me you aren’t the least bit curious?”
“Why should I be?”
“He might want to get together with me. For coffee. A drink.”
“So? You’re free, single, and over twenty-one.”
