The One That Got Away (11 page)

David’s heart, racing from his intimate examination of Trace’s chest, stopped as Trace spoke his name. One side of his mouth curled up in a smile.
Just ask,
he thought.
Ask me to stay,
and I’ll ignore the door and
the people on the other side forever.
“I’d better get the door.”

Reassured by David’s appraisal and the husk in his voice, Trace smiled slowly. He’d have never thought that discovering a man was aroused by him would feel so good. “Go on,” he said. “I’ll be out in a minute.”

Head still back in the bedroom with Trace, David opened the door for Patrick and John. He could see Jared pulling into the driveway. Matt 
would be late; he always was. John moved to cuff David’s shoulder in his usual greeting, and David flinched.

His friend’s dark eyebrows pulled together in concern. “You okay?” 
he asked.

David smiled to put his friend at ease. “Leave your doctor’s bag in the car, John. I just hurt my shoulder a few weeks ago. It’s just about healed, but still a little tender.”

“Tender?” Trace commented in amusement from where he stopped just inside the room. He’d finished getting dressed, leaving his feet bare and the top two buttons on his shirt undone, looking cool and casual with his hair finger-combed behind his ears.

The glare David shot in his direction was filled with more fondness than anger. “Yes, tender. Let’s go into the living room. Guys, this is Trace.

Trace, John and Patrick.” Unconsciously, he stroked his hand over Trace’s middle as he walked past, his fingers curling around the brunet’s side just above his belt before dropping back to his side.

Entering the living room, Patrick pulled David to the side. “New lover?” he asked, one eyebrow raised in a peaked arch.

A chill settled around David’s shoulders. He hadn’t considered his nosy friends’ take on his relationship with Trace. Their not-so-thoughtful teasing could ruin something as gentle and new as what was building between them. “Fuck, no!” he answered boisterously. “You’ve seen my type. He’s just a friend helping out. More than I can say for you fuckers.”

Turning to watch the others pass, Trace bit his lip when he heard David’s response to some too-quiet question, one he could easily figure out. It wasn’t what David said to answer it that confused him or even bothered him. It was the twinge of disappointment he felt. Trace rubbed 
his hand over his belly where David’s hand had touched him. They were still best friends, he reminded himself. No matter what.

David bellowed “Come in!” when the doorbell sounded for the second time. He’d left the door open on purpose. Making another round of introductions, he worked at making sure everyone had a drink, noticing that Trace took care of bringing all the food into the room, setting it around on TV trays. They made a great couple—
team
, he corrected, his eyes darting back to Trace again as the guys introduced themselves. He couldn’t keep his eyes off of him. Matt’s voice from the doorway startled him.

“Trace! What a surprise,” the photographer announced as he entered the room.

Turning halfway around, a bowl still in his hand, Trace grinned.

“Hey, Matt. Welcome to the party. I hear you trounce these yahoos regularly. I didn’t know you were handy with anything but a camera.”

“Oh, I have many talents. Just ask David.” The photographer shot David an exaggerated leer, causing roars of laughter from the guys who were used to Matt and David’s innuendo and flirting. Trace grinned at the playful banter. This was hardly any different from a night out with some of his own friends. He could handle this.

“Punctuality not being one of them. Shut up and deal,” David ordered, everyone taking their seats. He cocked his head, looking at Trace when he took a seat on the opposite side of the table.

“Don’t deal me in. I’m just an observer,” Trace said easily, grabbing a handful of barbecue twists to munch.

“That don’t fly with this group. We don’t do observers. If you stay, you play,” Patrick teased, patting a chair beside him. “I’ll help.”

With a doubtful smirk, Trace shifted over next to him. “All right, but I’m warning you. David tried to teach me the basics, and it didn’t go well.” He glanced up at David as he settled back down.

“I’m a much better teacher than David. Right, fellas?” Patrick said.

A chorus of jeers answered his comment, and they all contributed chips to the newcomer.

David felt a niggling of unease as Patrick’s attention focused on Trace, the physical therapist angling his chair so that their knees had to be touching. Other than Matt, Patrick was the only other member of their group that had any interest in men. He wasn’t gay, but he was definitely bi, and Trace was downright gorgeous tonight. A foot kicked David’s shin, and Matt leaned close to his ear.

“You need to find your poker face or you won’t win anything tonight,” the photographer warned.

Trace watched Matt’s and David’s heads close together, making him wonder. No. Not Matt. Trace would have noticed before. Besides, David had said they had a history. Not a “now.” He shifted his attention back to Patrick, who leaned closer to him with one elbow on the table. Trace was certain Patrick was flirting with him. Lips twitching, Trace listened to Patrick murmur a question about the cards. No harm in a little flirting, after all.

A couple of hours later, David tossed his cards into the center of the table for the fourth hand in a row. “I fold.” Poker took concentration, and all of his attention was centered on the two men flirting on the opposite side of the table. Patrick had folded earlier and was currently draped over Trace’s shoulder helping him play his hand.

“Time for food. Come help me, David,” Matt said, getting to his feet and nudging his friend.

David rolled his eyes. Matt wasn’t known for his subtlety. He got to his feet anyway. If he didn’t follow, there was no telling what Matt would say or do. Once in the kitchen, Matt turned on David, his voice hushed. “Is something going on between you and Trace?” he asked flat out.

“Doesn’t appear to be,” David stated, opening the refrigerator and taking out the rest of the salsa.

“Only if you’ve got your eyes shut,” Matt retorted. “There’s sparks flying off the two of you like fireworks. And Patrick is just eating it up since you’re doing your best to ignore it.”

“Maybe hanging around me has opened Trace’s eyes to the possibilities of attraction to men. He certainly is looking at Patrick differently than he would have a month ago.”

“Hanging around? Since when has Trace been hanging around? And why were you out to dinner last night? That was a pretty spiffy dinner for two ‘friends’… which I didn’t know about, either,” Matt needled.

“We’ve been friends for a long time. Trace came over to bring me meds for a migraine almost two weeks ago and sort of just stayed,” David chuckled, knowing that sounded crazy. “I hurt my shoulder, and he was already here. He’s a pal.”

Matt tilted his head to one side, studying David. “He’s more than a friend, isn’t he?” he asked. He’d known David a long time. They’d even tried being together for awhile before it became obvious they were better off as pals. Matt had never seen David react to someone like this.

David braced his arms on the counter. “I thought… maybe. Last night at the restaurant, that was just business. Trace was doing reviews, but something was building.” He looked up sheepishly. “Pretty pathetic, huh? I’m too old to be falling for straight friends.”

The other man took a few steps to the counter to get some napkins, taking a casual look out at the poker table where Patrick was still flirting heavily, much to John and Jared’s amusement. While Trace wasn’t exactly encouraging it, he was obviously enjoying it. The corner of Matt’s mouth quirked as he watched Trace subtly flirt back. He turned back to David, eyes dancing. “You sure he’s totally straight?”

“No. Actually at this point, I’m pretty sure he’s bi-curious.”

Matt’s smile soon matched his eyes. “And would it be you who introduced him to the curious stage?” he drawled, wagging his eyebrows.

“Pervert,” David accused, eyes sparkling back. The light in his eyes disappeared as he glanced out at Trace, seeing the restaurant critic’s forehead fall onto Patrick’s shoulder as he laughed. “I guess I did, but Trace has obviously decided to do a little exploring on his own.”

“You’ve got it bad, haven’t you?” Matt said quietly, shaking his head. He glanced back out to the poker game. “Hell. Trace is a notorious flirt; that’s known all over town. He’s dated most of the eligible women, and most of them would kill for another go at him. So just think about this: He’s taken care of you. He’s moved in with you to do it. And I’ll bet he’s made a regular habit of doing up your pants. Patrick’s not a threat.”

David flushed at the accuracy of Matt’s assessment. He’d known the photographer long enough to know that he sometimes saw things that others missed. “Why isn’t Patrick a threat?”

Matt’s smile was back. “Because in between laughing and the negligible bit of flirting Trace is doing, he’s watching us. Correction.

Watching
you
. Just like he has since I got here.”

“I haven’t felt this way about someone in a long time, but….” David looked up at his friend, grinning. “I’m telling this to the wrong person, aren’t I?”

Toasting David with a freshly poured glass, Matt winked and headed back out to the poker table, asking loudly what he’d missed and why the hell were some of his chips gone?

Trace watched Matt come back to the table, and when David didn’t immediately follow, his brow creased. Was David hiding out in the kitchen? Maybe he needed some help and didn’t want to admit it in front of his other friends? After another long minute, he threw in his hand despite the three of a kind and slinked out of the chair, using his mostly empty glass as an excuse to escape to the kitchen.

He didn’t see Matt’s grin.

“David? You okay?” Trace asked as he stepped through the doorway.

“Yeah, just getting over a serious case of verde poisoning,” David said, holding up the bottle of scotch. “Refill?”

“Please,” Trace answered, looking at David quizzically as he stopped next to him at the table. After watching the scotch gurgle into the glass, he said, “Your friends are a hoot.”

“Hmmm.” David answered noncommittally. “I’m having a serious problem with one of them at the moment.” He swung away from the counter, trapping Trace between his body and the cabinets.

Trace’s eyes widened as his ass bumped the counter and a little of the scotch in the glass sloshed over his fingers. “What kind of problem?”

he asked, eyes flickering over David’s face. This was a totally new behavior in Trace’s experience, this slightly dominant turn—though he was finding it very appealing. And if Trace didn’t know better, he’d think he was being maneuvered into a torrid kiss. 

“I seem to have become a little intolerant.” David fingers brushed Trace’s hair back from his face. “Of
anyone
touching you.” Leaning forward, he pressed their bodies together. “But me,” he growled.

The tone of David’s voice and the heat of his closeness had Trace shivering before he could repress it, and he couldn’t tear his gaze away from David’s flashing blue eyes. It registered with Trace that he was aroused again, just by those few words and the possessiveness implied. It made him reexamine his thoughts from when he’d been watching David and Matt pal around. Did he want this? The ball of desire starting to roil in his gut answered his question. “A little intolerant?” he asked, one hand closing carefully on David’s elbow since he still had the glass of scotch in the other. Yeah. Yeah, he wanted it. He wanted to pull David closer to feel the heat from his skin.

“Well, I’m not sure that you even want me to touch you, so I can’t be much more than that, can I?” David stroked Trace’s cheek. “Do you, Trace?” he rasped. “Do you want me to touch you?”

Trace was stunned. He was being seduced. Skillfully seduced. And he was loving it. Riveted by the magnetism pouring off David and the contrast of his soft touch, Trace slid one hand to David’s good shoulder, tipped his head to the side and lifted his mouth to press their lips together.

He wanted to know what it felt like, that passion burning in David’s eyes.

David moaned, tilting his head to fit their mouths together more firmly.

One hand slid down Trace’s side, his fingers clutching at the denim-clad hip.

“David, it’s your deal!” Matt yelled from the other room, his voice heavily laced with amusement. David and Trace pulled apart abruptly, turning their chins to look toward the doorway that had just enough angle to shield them from view.

Trace turned heated eyes back to David. “I do,” he said with a rakish smile. He sauntered back to the living room, doing his best to hide the little bit of trembling in his hands. He was more turned on than he would have believed possible from kissing a man. Only he was almost sure it was from kissing
David
.

David steadied himself on the counter, taking several deep breaths until his knees quit shaking. Walking back into the living room and over to the table, he leaned over Trace’s shoulder, pulled the long dark hair back from his friend’s neck and lowered his lips to Trace’s ear. “I’d probably be a bad host if I kicked everyone out, huh?” he whispered conspiratorially, running his lips down the exposed neck until Trace shivered in reaction, leaving no doubts with anyone in the room about how David felt about his house guest, whose brown eyes fluttered shut for a few seconds before reopening to shift to David with a twinkle. Patrick shook his head ruefully and tossed several chips at Matt, who just snickered.

David sat back down in his seat, glaring at Matt with mock outrage.

“Fucker!” he accused, planting a noisy kiss on the photographer’s cheek.

More quietly, he added, “Thank you.” Matt winked at his longtime friend.

“Damn it. Shot down again,” Patrick muttered good-naturedly. “You better keep him happy, David, or I’ll steal him away,” he declared. John and Jared actually chuckled, and John pointed at Trace, whose cheeks were flushing as he shuffled the cards.