Question Mark (26 page)

He ordered a vodka soda while Christian ordered a water with lemon.
Terrific
. Mark would have to eat like a goat to make sure he didn’t get drunk and start taking his clothes off. When he finally looked back at Christian after the server left with the drink and dinner order, he found the other man staring with an expectant expression. “What?” Mark snapped.

Christian laughed, acting positively tickled for a guy who just broke up with his girlfriend, confessed that he was gay, and moved out. It was pissing Mark off a little.

“You. You’re putting a lot of effort into keeping me at arm’s length. Think I don’t see that stern brow and hard jaw? Think it doesn’t turn me on twice as much?”

Mark scowled in response, which only led to more laughter.

“Oh, do it again, baby, you’re making me crazy.”

“Fuck you.” Mark grumbled as he took a hearty gulp of the drink the server dropped off.

“Your place or mine?”

When Mark acted like he was going to get up and leave, Christian actually flopped over on his bench seat, laughing until tears started in his eyes. He waved him back into his seat and gave a final chuckle or two as Mark stared back moodily.

“God, you make it so easy to rattle you. I’ll stop. Promise. Or I’ll slow down at least. I don’t think I
can
stop entirely.”

Mark concentrated on the table top, mostly so he didn’t have to make eye contact. A change of subject was in order.

“Anything new since we last talked? How’re things with Kat and stuff?” His questions were met with silence that stretched out until the awkwardness forced Mark to glance up. Christian wasn’t looking at him, he was
watching
Mark with those burning hazel eyes. He propped his arms on the back of the booth and frowned.

“What’s your real question? What are you trying to ask me under all the insincere ‘Kat and stuff’ business?”

Mark bristled. If Christian was allowed to get stuffy and pissed, then there was no reason for Mark to hold back either. “You’re such a prick sometimes. Why is it that on the phone you can tell me about everything that’s going on with you—or ask me about my life and actually listen to the answer, but in person you’re hell bent on hiding all of that behind sex?”

Christian
finally
broke the thousand yard stare and mumbled something under his breath. Mark pounced on it, glad to see a chance at easier emotional footing.

“Christian, I know you’re not this guy—this megawatt all-sex-all-the-time guy. It’s exhausting fending you off because I’m not even all that sure you would want me if I really gave you the chance.”

“I’d want you…” he whispered. “If you really gave me a chance, I’d take it.”

“I don’t think so.” Mark assessed him with a quick up and down flick of his eyes. “You want to feel the way you did with that Kevin guy and I think you actually believe that any man you get with will satisfy your craving. After that you can go your way, happy for a little while until you get the urge to screw around, then all this emotional drama will heat up again and you’ll be breaking it off with your next fake girlfriend.”

“Thanks, Professor.” Christian smiled again but this time it was cold. His body language started speaking loud and clear.
Not Open For Discussion
.

Mark sank lower in his seat and decided to let it go. “Fine. You don’t want to talk about Kat. I get it.”

“No, I don’t. Not about her and not about what she knows about me. I don’t want to talk about what breaking up with her means—‘cause to me, it doesn’t have to mean anything.”
LIAR
, Mark thought. “I’m not where you are in your life and I doubt I ever will be,” Christian finished.

Mark nearly spat out the drink he’d just taken. “My life comes across as warm and fuzzy? You think you lose everything if you admit you’re gay, but you never think about whether or not what you lose is actually worth anything. Would you rather have your job forever and be alone, or be with someone you care about more than anything and maybe have to seek employment elsewhere? Who in life doesn’t have something to lose? It’s about tradeoffs. Whoever told you otherwise was yanking your balls.”

“This from the guy who just lost his job and is too chicken shit to fly to England and stake his claim on the guy he wants,” Christian returned. “You’d rather pretend that your issues are too pressing to abandon now, when you’re actually scared and hiding. I can recognize when someone doesn’t want to take a leap; I’m a pro at it.” He waved his hand at Mark. “Hide in your house, Mark, away from all the tabloids. Find a new job and dive into it. Tell yourself you’re doing things differently this time—really becoming the guy you want to be. I promise if you do all that
right away
, you will accomplish what you’re after.”

“Yeah? And what’s that?”

“Losing any chance you ever had with a guy you decided couldn’t want you. I’ve never seen someone so good at acting the part of the emotional walking wounded. Nobody likes you, everybody hates you…wahhh, waaaah. If you think I’m an easy read, you’re like an alphabet book for kids. Don’t try to be my shrink when you’ve got your own personal shitcan to figure out.” He paused and drummed his fingers along the table before burning Mark again with those hot eyes. “All
that
being said, wanna get laid?”

Mark gulped down the last of his drink and was about to flip the table out of his way to either strangle Christian or shove his tongue down the guy’s throat, when their dinner arrived. He slid his empty glass toward the server and asked for another—make it a double—then glowered through the steam from Christian’s fajitas.

Mark was
not
a coward. Zane had understood why he had to stick around New Mexico and take care of things.

 
For two months?
The devil inside asked.
It would take you a week tops to get your crap together, rent a truck and hit the road for Bakersfield. But if you’re scared to see Zane because it’s been a while…well…

He shook the thought away. Christian didn’t deserve the chance to mess up his head any more than he already had, yet those words kept replaying in his mind. Losing Zane. Hiding out. Walking wounded. Mark thought of Rafe and Jeremy and what happened between them. The reason those guys were together now was because they both saw what their lives were lacking, what would fix them, and they went for it. For Rafe that meant hurting Mark. For Jeremy that meant coming out. It seemed like the only person who hadn’t made any progress, no matter how he tried to convince himself otherwise, was Mark. All this time he’d been busy pointing a finger at Rafe.

Rafe hurt me. Rafe left me. Rafe confused me. Rafe didn’t want me.

Just like Christian said. Wahhh waaaah.

“How’s your burger?” Christian asked, seeing the way Mark was staring blankly at it. “No good? You should eat up, you’ll need energy once I’m through with you.”

“God.
Shut up.
Asshole.”

“That’s the spirit,” Christian winked. “Talk dirty to me.”

***

Christian followed Mark out to his car, shuffling a few steps behind him and fighting the urge to laugh again. Their dinner banter had finally settled into normal conversation and Mark had eaten enough to counteract his few drinks. It was a stroke of luck that he was even allowing Christian to escort him outside—though Mark was practically speed walking to his car to get away. No big deal; Christian didn’t take it personally.

He knew Mark was attracted to him, but he also knew the buck stopped there. Mark found him more irritating than sexy, which was unfortunate because Christian was only partially teasing when he offered himself up for a little bump and grind with a side of boot knockin’. They could have a good time together, Christian was certain, but he was also certain that he’d probably be too nervous to wow his friend. It’d been far too long and he wasn’t that experienced. A depressing topic.

Mark strode to the driver’s side door and had it open by the time Christian caught up. Unable to resist a parting jab or two, he leaned in close, totally invading Mark’s space. “Sure you want to leave so soon? My suite’s nice and roomy.” He nuzzled beneath Mark’s ear and chuckled as the hand against his chest pushed him back.

“Don’t be offended, but I’m glad your schedule is keeping you busy all week,” Mark said as he looked up through his lashes, making something inside Christian purr.

“Well. I’m wearing you down, regardless,” Christian insisted. Mark shook his head and Christian closed the distance again, leaning into Mark with one hand on the opened door, and the other on the car. “If I asked you for a favor, would you help me out?”

Mark froze, practically bent backwards to put space between them. “As long as it’s not a sexual favor, I guess.”

Christian’s eyes sought out Mark’s lips again and he felt his own lift in a wicked grin. “Let me help you prove something to yourself.”

Mark was distinctly uneasy and gave him a wary look. “I don’t need you to help me prove anything.”

“Trust me.” He sank closer to Mark’s lips.

“Absolutely not.”

Christian kissed him. He dropped his hands until he was holding Mark’s jaw and working the man’s lips over with heated pressure. As Christian’s upper body had done, so his lower body followed until Mark was pinned against the driver’s seat and Christian was grinding into him.

The kiss was meant to do two things: One, it was clearly a stolen pleasure for Christian and two, it was meant to push Mark over the edge so he realized he had to go after who he really wanted, which was Zane.

Christian hadn’t known Mark long, but his specialty was pushing buttons and Mark would only react if Christian pissed him off. Sure, he wished the kiss meant more to Mark than something to be outraged about—but honestly, and Christian would deny this if it ever got out, he wanted Mark to be happy even if that meant it was in a clichéd romance with a movie star.

It was time to flush the fox out of hiding. Never let it be said that Christian wasn’t willing to use his lips for the cause.

As Christian increased the pressure, Mark’s hands gripped his wrists and it was clear the brush off was coming. His tongue slid across Mark’s bottom lip and at exactly the moment when Christian felt the shove, flashes started blinking and shutters started snapping.

Christian cursed loudly and tried to hide Mark’s body with his own. The horrified look on Mark’s face filled him with pain. A hoarse sound, an almost sob, escaped Mark’s throat and Christian didn’t waste any more time on goodbyes.

Pushing Mark into the car, he slammed the door behind him and thumped on the window for Mark to start the engine. When the Ford rumbled, Christian turned into the never ending flashes and clicking, using his size as an advantage to push everyone out of the way so Mark could leave. What seemed like dozens of questions were shouted at once, but it didn’t matter to Christian ‘cause he wasn’t answering them.

He watched as Mark roared out of the parking lot and away from the hotel before pushing his way through the group and back toward the lobby. The photographers followed him every step of the way and he ignored them, his glare doing nothing to cow them. It wasn’t until he was in his room and closing the door that he realized what he’d just done.

It wasn’t only Mark in those pictures. They’d be plastered everywhere before the night was through.

Shiiiiiiiit.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

If he was doing the math right, it was coming around to ninety-some hours—almost four days—since Zane had heard a word from Mark. Or since Mark lied to him. However Zane thought of it, it meant that the past four days and three nights had been awful on all fronts
except
the movie filming.

Bombardment was the best word that Zane could think of to describe the week. Thank God he had Leslie and Jenny running interference on the worst of it, but that still meant he had to field the calls from friends and his mom asking what the hell had happened and if he was going to be alright. Mikey called and left a message, but hadn’t tried calling a second time. Probably because it would take a Herculean effort to keep from saying, “I told you so.”

The internet was the worst. Sometimes he wished it didn’t fucking exist. The news was everywhere. The goddamn pictures of Mark kissing that dickwad were unavoidable. On Zane’s official web page, he was getting angry comments from fans about how he should just move on and forget about Mark, like they were privy to the exact details of his personal relationship. He was going to have to tell Leslie to shut down site comments for a while until this storm blew over.

When Zane didn’t hear from Mark after his dinner with Christian, he was sick about it. He didn’t want to come across like a controlling boyfriend, so he waited as long as he could to call Mark’s cell. No answer. Zane left a message. No returned call. He left a message on Mark’s home machine. Zero response. That was sleepless night number one… His heart had pounded with the adrenaline of wondering what was going on as his eyes stayed clamped shut in a stubborn bid for rest that never came.