Golden Dancer (10 page)

The refusal was on his lips. Had to get away from Trelain and his fucking lover. But what about the office snooping? A party might be the answer. Surely, Terrebone would lock the office door again, but there was always a chance. If Mac wasn’t there, the chances were nil. “Sure, I’d love to come.”

Terrebone smiled. There was a canary in there somewhere. “Wonderful.” He glanced at Mac’s usual cargoes and T-shirt. “Casual attire will be fine.”

Mac shrugged. “Yeah, what you see is what you get.”

Terrebone’s grin expanded. “I certainly hope so.”

* * *

Daniel watched Mac’s old Volvo pull out of the circular drive. The guy needed a new car. So what the hell had he just done? Why did he invite the reporter to the party? If he’d left well enough alone, the guy would have gone and never shown up in Daniel’s life again. Trelain would have been all his tonight at the party and all day tomorrow before he got ready to fly back to New York. Now, at the least, he had to deal with his jealousy of Mac all evening. Was he just a fucking masochist?

A strong arm wrapped around his waist, and he looked down into the turquoise eyes and full lips smiling up at him. “Hi. That was a beautiful photo shoot. You were beautiful.”

A big smile was his reward. “Thanks awfully. It was rather fun. I hope Mac got what he wanted.”

“You can ask him tonight.”

Trelain’s eyes widened. “You invited him?”

“Yep. You’re surprised?”

“Yes. Both that you invited him and that he said yes. He seemed a bit anxious to get out of here.”

Daniel closed the door and walked Trelain back into the great room, now restored to neatness and order by the photo crew. He pulled Trelain down on the big couch with him and kept his arm around him. “I think he’s confused about how he feels.”

The beautiful face turned up to him. “Perhaps, but that doesn’t explain why you would want him here socially.”

Daniel shrugged. “I find I can’t quite explain it to myself.”

Trelain grinned. “I think you like him. All that messy, curly hair. Do you dream of it tickling your naked body?”

“I’ll admit he’s damned attractive if you like lean and hungry.”

“We should call him Cassius?”

Daniel laughed.

“Should I be worried?” Trelain was smiling but the beautiful eyes showed just a hint of insecurity. There was the youth showing through.

Daniel wrapped the other arm around him and pulled the dancer tight. “Are you joking?” He looked down into those wide, exotic eyes. “They tell me I have a billion dollars. I’d give up a big chunk of that to have you.”

The expression got more playful. “Not all of it?”

“I’d have to keep some to maintain you in the style to which I’d want you to become accustomed.”

Trelain was laughing as Daniel closed his mouth over those full lips.

* * *

Escape to the canyon. Mac thought it sounded like a movie title instead of his current motivation as he drove slightly over the Laguna speed limit to get to the Canyon Road. Fuck, why had he agreed to go to that party? Was it really about getting the goods on Terrebone, or was he a flaming, masochistic, self-torturing homo who was dying to see the damned Russian again?

The cell phone rang, and he hit the speaker. “MacAllister.”

“Hi, sweetheart, it’s Mother.”

He laughed. “Guess I don’t need to ask why you’re calling.”

“My God, Mac, I saw the review. Was he amazing? Oh, of course he was. You said so. But what did he say? Did you spend any time with him? Isn’t he lovely?”

“Okay, Mom, hold your breath for a second. I’m actually doing a profile on the guy, and we just finished this big photo shoot. I’m just leaving there now.”

“Oh my God!”

“Yeah, and the last pictures were of Trelain nude. Like the old Nureyev layout in
Vogue
, remember? He was just dancing all around this pool with his… You get the picture, looking like some kind of god or something.”

There was a slight pause. “Trelain, huh? So I guess you’ve gotten to know him pretty well.”

“I had to interview him for the piece, so yeah; we’ve talked quite a bit.”
Don’t sound defensive.

“Did he talk about his mother at all?”

“Yeah, he said she was a big influence on his career. But I promised him the profile would be mostly about his dance and not his private life. Why?”

“She’s an amazing woman. Literally kidnapped Trelain from his father and the ballet system in Russia that was rapidly falling apart. She took him home to England, and his father died shortly thereafter. She put him into the ballet school there, and the rest is history. They love each other ferociously, but she still has trouble accepting the fact that her son is gay, so he lives away from her. He can’t stand her trying to marry him off to a woman.”

“Wow. I must confess that didn’t come up. Did he tell you that?”

“Partly, one night with your dad and me over too much wine. But I also heard through some friends at the Royal.”

A complicated life for a complicated man. “I’ll be posting the profile sometime in the next couple weeks. Woo wants to give it a big buildup, so we have to leave time for promo.”

“I can’t wait to see it.” There was another short pause. Pregnant was the word for it. “Will you be seeing him again?”

He could lie. “Yeah, actually I was invited to a party for him. He’s been on this short vacation here in Laguna, and his host is throwing the party.”

“Oh, anyone I know?”

“Daniel Terrebone.”

Another pause. “Holy shit. Honey, isn’t that the guy you’re trying to do a story on? Something about an art theft?”

“Yep.”

“And he invited you to a party?”

“Yep.” He burst out laughing.

“Honey, this is making your time in Afghanistan sound tame.”

Chapter Eleven

Mac pushed the Lock button on his car remote and walked to the front door of the estate. His old Volvo looked sorely out of place amid the Porsches, Beemers, and Newport Chevys—aka Mercedes—that lined the circular drive. A few friends? A few rich friends, he should have said. He wiped a hand down the front of his best cargo pants. He smiled. That was an oxymoron. And he was a moron for being here. Oh well. He rang the bell.

The same butler from this morning answered the door. Did the guy live here? Well, yeah. He probably did. “Good evening, sir. Good to see you again. Please, come in.” He gestured toward the great room where Mac had been that morning. “Most of the guests are on the terrace, if you’d like to join them.”

Mac held up his backpack. Never leave home without it. “Mind if I put this away somewhere safe?”

The man glanced at him as if the potential of someone stealing his ratty backpack was slim to none, but he was polite. “We can put it in Mr. Terrebone’s office, sir. That is kept locked. Just be sure you ask me to unlock it when you’re ready to leave.”

Bingo. Exactly what he’d hoped. “Sure. Sounds great.”

The butler led the way down a hallway to a double door at the end. He removed a key from his pocket and opened the door, indicating that Mac should go in first. It was a big room, dominated by a large glass-topped desk, a beautiful polished wood credenza, and more of Terrebone’s omnipresent art collection. Mac walked to a sofa set by the large window, now draped, and set his backpack on it, taking as thorough a look around as the low light and constant observation of the butler allowed. Not much to see, but he’d bet there was some kind of safe behind one of those paintings. A laptop glowed enticingly on the desk.

“It will be quite safe, sir.”

“Oh, sure. I was just admiring the art.”

The man smiled. “Yes, that large painting is a Pollock. One of Mr. Terrebone’s favorites.

Jesus. Jackson fucking Pollock. “It’s beautiful.”

Obviously, Mac gained an inch in the butler’s estimation by admiring the art.

“Shall we go, sir?”

“Sure.”

The butler carefully locked the door behind them while visions of slipping him a sleeping pill and stealing the key wafted through Mac’s head. Okay, this really wasn’t Mickey Spillane. They walked back to the great room, and Mac saw a crowd out on the terrace. Not huge, maybe thirty or so people. As he got closer, he revised that statement. Thirty or so men.

“Have a good evening, sir.” The butler walked back toward the entry.

“Uh, thanks.” Well, what the fuck?

He walked closer to the open terrace doors. Music was playing from a small band, and a number of couples were dancing. Male couples. Maybe he should get the hell out of here.

“Mac!”

He looked up to see Trelain slipping through the crowd toward him. The man’s eyes shone, and he was smiling. When he got to Mac, he grabbed his hand. “I’m so glad you could come. Daniel told me you would, but I truly didn’t believe him.” He looked a little embarrassed at his own enthusiasm. “It’s just that you left today before I could say good-bye, and I wanted to thank you.”

“Thank me?”

“Yes, for your brilliant review. Everyone in the company was thrilled with your intelligent comments and informed praise. I told them about your parents.”

The warmth of Trelain’s hand went straight to his balls. Shit. Get a grip. “Glad you like it. It was all true.”

“Come, get a drink.”

Mac let himself be led across the slate terrace to a bar that was obviously popular. When Trelain came up, a few of the men in line stepped aside, letting the beautiful dancer go first. He smiled, but clearly didn’t find the gesture inappropriate. Mac figured he was used to being spoiled, and who wouldn’t want to spoil him?

When Trelain turned back to him, he had two glasses of champagne in his hands. He handed one to Mac. “I hope you don’t mind, but I just feel like celebrating.” He clinked his glass with Mac’s and took a sip.

Mac sipped too. “So, what are we celebrating?”

His eyes glistened. “Oh, I don’t know. Just the fact that you’re here, I guess.”

Jesus. He felt both flattered and frightened. He didn’t really want the responsibility for making Trelain happy. Did he?

A warm hand clasped his shoulder, and he looked up into the blue-black eyes.

“Hi, Mac. Really glad you could make it.”

He so wanted to hate this man, but the guy was kind of nice, to say nothing of ridiculously handsome. Not that he cared about that. And nobody ever said a fucking thief couldn’t be handsome. “Thanks.”

Daniel took one arm and Trelain the other. They walked over to a group of men who were chatting and sipping on the corner of the patio. His host introduced him to the group and slipped away with Trelain. At first Mac felt self-conscious, but the guys turned out to be great. Pretty quickly, he was embroiled in a discussion of local politics and how to keep Laguna from going the way of the rest of conservative Orange County. The men were all residents of the city, and they were all gay, but Mac found he was thoroughly enjoying himself. “So why don’t one of you run for City Council?”

The tall blond named Roger laughed. “Too much work; sadly I already put in a sixty-hour week at the firm.” He snuggled the cute, geeky-looking man next to him. “My honey doesn’t want me spending any more time away from him.”

His “honey,” the quiet one of the group, kissed Roger’s nose but didn’t comment.

Mac felt an arm twine through his. He looked down into that beautiful, sculptured face. “Hi.”

“Hi, Mac.” The group became very quiet at the dancer’s arrival. The turquoise eyes gazed up at him, a little glassy. Maybe a few champagnes? “Would you dance with me?”

Mac quelled the “hell, no” that tried to escape. This was the guest of honor. He looked up at all the men dancing. He’d be more conspicuous if he said no than if he just gave in. “I’ve never danced with a man before.”

He got the soft dimples in the carved cheeks. “It’s just the same. Come on.”

They walked the few steps onto the center of the terrace where the dancers were moving to a simple, slow beat. Good. Nothing tricky. Trelain raised his arms as a woman would, and Mac slipped his around the man.

He immediately learned two things. First, dancing with a man, at least this man, was nothing like dancing with a woman. Trelain’s back was hard and oh so warm. His long-fingered hands, while smaller than Mac’s, were still not feminine, and the silky hair smelled like…what? A man. Soap and a hint of a musky aftershave.

Trelain snuggled tight against him, resting his head in the crook of Mac’s shoulder, and that was when Mac learned the second thing. Women did not provide a hard cock to rub against him. Holy crap, he needed to back away. But his half-hard cock was rubbing against Trelain’s flat belly, and it felt so good. Way too good.

Trelain gave a little humming sound that might have been a moan, and though he could claim they were “just dancing,” his partner’s cock moved with mind-searing precision, up, down, a bit to the side. Mac’s cock was so huge, it hurt. Jesus, the thought of this man tortured him. The reality was more than he could stand. He had to get the hell out of here.

He ripped himself out of the dancer’s arms. “Sorry, gotta go.” Slouching a little in hopes that the bagginess of his cargoes would cover his throbbing erection, he headed through the open doors and across the great room. There were far fewer people to observe his humiliation in here. Goal: get to the door.

“Mac, don’t go.”

He glanced over his shoulder at Trelain and almost stopped. Hell, no. He had to go now. He almost made it to the front door when a big solid body stepped in front of him. “Mac, what the hell do you think you’re doing?”

“Get out of my way, Terrebone.”

“Hell, no. Come with me.” The big man grabbed and pulled him into the hall that led toward the back of the house. Mac started to pull back when he was spun and pushed hard against the wall.

“Daniel. What are you doing? Don’t hurt him.” Trelain’s voice sounded distraught.

Terrebone pushed his face into Mac’s. “I’m not hurting him, darling. He’s hurting himself. This man has got to realize that he wants you and you want him and, for that matter, he probably wants me.”

The bastard. Mac tried to pull away, but shit, the guy was strong. Daniel pressed his forearm harder against his neck. One hand reached down and grabbed Mac’s cock, still stiff despite the shock. “Feel this? It’s not some anomaly or weird mistake, Mac. You’re hot for Trelain. Does that make you gay? I’d say yes, but I’m not into definitions. Who the fuck cares? You just have to quit torturing yourself and everyone else. You hear me?”