Encore Encore (22 page)

166 Gardner ~ His Leading Man

“Fuck you!” Kieran pressed a palm to his stinging cheek and his eyes fi lled with tears. He blinked hard. He would not cry, not over this tired old argument.

Why had he tweaked Will’s tail like that? He should know better.

They had been together now for nearly eight months, and not once in that time had Will ever promised to tell Roxanne or anybody else about their relationship. Of course in the beginning Kieran didn’t know about Roxanne. In the beginning, the excuse was the protection of Kieran’s own reputation.

“I don’t want people to think you got on the show because we’re sleeping together,” Will had told him. “You’re too good an actor and I don’t want to tarnish your reputation.” Naively, Kieran had believed him. And why not?

At fi rst all the cloak and dagger stuff had seemed incredibly romantic. Will would call and say meet me in an hour at such-and-such and wear something sexy, which meant dressing up.

The destination might be a rented beachhouse or a friend’s boat.

Once they had spent an entire weekend, just the two of them, at a B&B in Monterey. The place never really mattered to Kieran. It was the attention he fed on. The attention was what he’d missed most during all those months of separation from David. All those months had left him lonely and needy and primed for a seduction. And yeah, all that attention and admiration had made him feel special again, like he had when he was with David.

After a while the rumors had begun to swirl and Kieran couldn’t help but listen. Will was a drinker. Will was a party boy.

Will was a notorious cocksman who would fuck anything in a skirt, including, but not limited to, the actors on his shows.

Except the rumors were always about how many women Will had fucked, never a breath about how many men. Only then had Kieran begun to realize that his new boyfriend was a closet case.

That it was his own reputation, and not Kieran’s, Will was so desperate to protect.

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167

Walking over to the mirror, Kieran examined the red marks on his cheek. It still stung but probably wouldn’t bruise, open hand slaps hardly ever did.

God, he was a mess. There were mascara smudges under his eyes and one lid still bore traces of lavender eye-shadow. The tiny lines at the corners of his mouth showed red from where his lipstick had bled out, and his hair looked like he’d combed it with an electric mixer.

Kieran sat down, reached for the box of tissues and the makeup remover. He needed to clean himself up, reapply his makeup and just generally get his shit together. Then maybe—

His gaze fell on his cell lying amid the litter of discarded tissues and makeup brushes, the message light blinking. He picked it up, checked the messages and saw that he had one from David.

His heart lifted, then began to pound with anticipation as he punched in his password. All the crap with Will faded and Kieran smiled as he listened to the warm cadence of David’s voice.

“Kay, it’s David. I was just…”

As if he could somehow not know who it was.

Kieran closed his eyes. David was the only person who had ever given him a nickname. Just another thing that set him apart from everyone else Kieran had ever known.

The message went on. “I was just thinking maybe we could have dinner tonight, if you’re not busy. So, give me a call.” Not knowing why he did it, Kieran saved the message.

Glancing at the clock, he winced. Nearly eight-thirty, probably too late for dinner. He checked the time of David’s message.

He’d left it hours ago and by now had most likely given up on him.

He sighed and studied his refl ection in the makeup mirror.

No chance of anyone mistaking those marks on his cheek for anything but exactly what they were. No chance of David mistaking them.

168 Gardner ~ His Leading Man

A familiar wave of shame washed through him as he imagined David’s reaction, not just to the knowledge that he was with a man who would slap him with little thought and no remorse afterward, but to the entire situation of Kieran having turned into some studio exec’s secret fuckboy.

Shoving aside bottles and brushes, he propped his elbows on the table and lowered his head into his hands. How had he even gotten here?

He was twenty-fi ve years old, with a hit series and an Emmy nomination to his credit. He had more success and more money than he’d ever dreamed possible. He had a brand new car and an agreement of sale on a beach house in Malibu, yet he’d never been less content. Less content, Kieran laughed, screw less content, he was unhappy, lonely. He was even more lonely now than he’d been during that last year of their relationship, that year when they’d been technically still together but living on opposite coasts and grabbing weekends here and there in an effort to keep it all going, an effort which had proved ultimately unsuccessful.

He could still recall in vivid detail every weekend of that fi nal year. Every hotel room, every plane ride, every city and town where they’d met and what they did there. At fi rst those memories had been precious, like jewels he would take out and handle, poring over every facet and taking comfort from the brilliance and shine.

Now thinking about those days felt more like rubbing salt into an open wound. This was especially true of Boston, which had once been one of his favorite cities. Now he avoided it like the plague.

Too many memories. Too much pain.

◊ ◊ ◊ ◊

Kieran glanced out the taxi’s window and shivered. He could hardly see the nighttime streets of Boston for the snow. It fell thick and heavy, blanketing everything, the chink chink of tiny ice crystals against the glass making him feel even colder. They must have been crazy, the two of them, to arrange a January rendezvous here. Still, despite the blizzard and the frigid New England temperatures, Boston was one of their special places ENCORE! ENCORE!
169

and the beautiful old hotel in Copley Square one of Kieran’s personal favorites.

In the cab’s backseat, he shivered again and hunched his shoulders down deeper into his jacket, a sexy little cropped number he’d picked up at a trendy boutique in Hollywood. It was zippered and studded and made of the softest black suede. It was also totally inadequate for this hellish cold. Maybe tomorrow he’d go out and buy himself a more winter-friendly jacket, maybe even a hat.

Or maybe tomorrow he’d be on a plane and on his way back to L.A.

The heat inside the cab was beginning to melt the ice crystals clinging to Kieran’s hair. A trickle of water ran down his neck and he wiped it away before reaching into his pocket for his cell.

Turning it on, he saw that he had a text from David.

Im at the hotel. Cant wait 2 c u.

Kieran smiled at his lover’s shorthand. He texted back.

Me 2. Im in the cab. Be there soon.

And it was true. He couldn’t wait to see David, to touch him, to hear his voice, actually hear it in person and not through a crappy Bluetooth earpiece. He wanted to watch the way his lover’s face lit up when he talked about his work. He wanted to see the golden glow of candlelight on David’s skin. He wanted to feel that skin against his, to linger over David’s lips and feel that hard cock inside him. And he wanted to fall asleep in David’s arms. He missed that the most, the intimacy and physical closeness. The sex was awesome, always had been. But it was David he missed, the smell of him, his warmth and presence, even the cramped apartment they had shared for a time before Kieran had left for California.

“That’ll be twenty-six fi fty.” The cabby said, breaking into Kieran’s thoughts.

Glancing up he realized they had reached the hotel and were idling in front of its entrance.

170 Gardner ~ His Leading Man

Reaching into his pocket, Kieran pulled out bills and passed them to the driver, hardly even noticing their denomination, he was so anxious to get inside and fi nd David.

Flinging open the door, he jumped out of the taxi and nearly took a header on a patch of black ice in the street. Just in time, he caught himself on the cab’s door. Taking his bag from the driver, he swung it onto his shoulder and stepped up onto the sidewalk.

Pausing, he looked up at the windows facing the street. Behind one of them David waited for him for what was probably the last time.

To hell with probably, Kieran thought. Barring a
deus ex
machina
which, let’s face it, you didn’t often get in real life, this was certainly their last time together. Briefl y, he let himself have the fantasy. He’d walk into their hotel room and David would be there. They’d kiss and David would say, “Guess what, Kay, I’ve changed my mind. I’m moving to L.A. at the end of the week/

month/year/whatever. I love you and that’s more important than—”

“Sir? Are you all right?”

Kieran blinked. The hotel’s doorman was looking at him like he’d lost his mind. And maybe he had, standing out here in a blizzard, making up fairytale endings for their love affair.

“I’m good, thank you. I just…thought I forgot something in the cab.”

“Did you? Let me see if I can get him back.” The man leaned out into the street, raised his arm.

Kieran shook his head. “No. It’s fi ne. I have everything I need.” Except maybe for that fairytale ending.

David checked his cell. He had no clue why, except that it was just about all he’d done since his arrival at the hotel two hours ago and now the action had become involuntary, like breathing.

No new messages, of course. He laid the phone aside, took a breath. He needed to relax. Kieran’s plane was safely on the ground, and Kieran himself was in a taxi, on his way to the hotel.

It wouldn’t be long now and Kieran would be in his arms.

Maybe for the last time.

Don’t think about that.

David shoved the thought away and looked at the darkness that wasn’t quite darkness, at the swirling, falling, wind-blown snow. They must have been crazy, scheduling a date weekend in Boston in January, but you had to take what you could get, didn’t you? And lately where he and Kieran were concerned, they hadn’t been able to get much. What with meshing schedules and money being tight, for him at least, their date weekends had grown few and far between, the last two having been cancelled altogether, fi rst by him then by Kieran. And so here he was in another hotel room, in January, in Boston, in a blizzard. Waiting.

For a miracle.

Unlikely as that was, David let himself imagine it. The door would open and Kieran would walk in, looking as gorgeous as ever, and give David one of those heart-stopping smiles, the kind that fl ashed dimples and made Kieran’s eyes sparkle, the kind that made the love well up so sudden and strong that it was hard for David to breathe. Then Kieran would say, “Guess what babe, I’m here to stay.” He would step into David’s open arms, they would kiss and—

He laughed bitterly. Stupid daydream. How the hell any of that was supposed to happen he had no clue, not unless Kieran left his TV career behind and returned to New York. A thing
172 Gardner ~ His Leading Man

David would never ask him to do. He just wanted it all to end, all the long distance phone sex, all the dates made and then broken for reasons beyond their control, all the nights with only his right hand for company. Damn it, he just wanted Kieran back in his life fulltime, and why was that so goddamn hard?

With a groan, David shut his eyes and pressed his fi ngertips against his temples. The face of another actor, a young man with wide hazel eyes and chin-length auburn curls, appeared unbidden behind his closed lids.

When the leading actor in their touring company had to take medical leave after a car accident, James Santillano had stepped into the role of
Cinderella
. Pretty in that way young men sometimes were, he was perfect for the part with his creamy complexion lightly dusted with freckles, a sweet clear tenor that could break your heart, and stage presence so compelling that even the most cynical critics had to give him his propers once they’d seen his performance. And, oh yeah, from their fi rst meeting, James had made perfectly clear that he was David’s for the asking, an offer which, so far, David had managed to resist. Except for that one kiss.

David’s laptop chimed softly as it went to sleep, a sure sign that he’d been daydreaming too long. Opening his eyes, he lowered the cover. Screw it, he wasn’t getting any work done anyway.

Pushing back the desk chair, he rose just as the door opened.

Then Kieran was there, looking like a true California boy with his tan and his totally inappropriate clothing and shoes. His cheeks and nose were kissed red from the cold and there was snow in his wildly curly black hair.

“Ta-da! I made it.” Dropping his overnight bag to the fl oor, Kieran held out his arms.

David crossed the room in two strides and then he was holding Kieran, and kissing Kieran. He smelled and tasted like the cold and like himself. For just a moment David forgot everything and lost himself in this man he loved more than life, this man he was going to set free.

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173

“God, you’re freezing.” David rubbed his hands up and down Kieran’s arms.

“I know.” Kieran shivered. “Warm me up.” Pressing close, he buried his face against David’s neck. His nose felt like an ice cube.

David unwound his lover’s arms and tugged him over to the bed. “You know the quickest way to warm someone up, if you think they might have hypothermia, is to get naked and share body heat.” He unzipped Kieran’s jacket and slid it off his shoulders.

“I saw that on the History Channel so it must be true.” This got a laugh, which was exactly what he’d been hoping for. “You know the weirdest, most random stuff.” Ready to help, Kieran pulled his sweater over his head and would have tossed it aside, except David took it from him and laid it neatly on a nearby chair. “Hey, you never know when a piece of information like that will come in handy.” He reached for the button on Kieran’s jeans, fl ipped it open then tugged down the zipper and slipped his hand inside.