Six Degrees of Lust (47 page)

zone. “I’m starving, and if we wait too long we’ll lose our table,

so yeah, let’s get going.” He spoke so fast Mac almost didn’t

334 Taylor V. Donovan

understand the words.

Almost.

“Wait, what? What do you mean, we’ll lose our table?”

“I made reservations at this place I think you’re going to like

and if you don’t get your ass in gear I’m gonna kick it. And stop

asking so many questions… Jesus.”

Sam’s cheeks flushed as red as his neck. He didn’t look at Mac.

He just went and opened their room door.

Confused, Mac walked out of the room and preceded his

guy outside. They were both quiet during the cab ride, with Mac

trying to make sense of Sam’s actions and Sam trying to find his

cool… or so Mac assumed, until he noticed the farther the taxi

went, the more jumpy Sam got. He was pale and even sweating

a little, and when Mac grabbed his hand to let him know he was

there with him and it’d be fine, whatever it was, Sam intertwined

their fingers and refused to let go until the cab pulled over in

front of the restaurant.

“What is this place?” he asked softly when Sam guided him

towards the entrance, his hand firmly placed on the small of

Mac’s back.

“You’ll see.”

His first clue was the Polynesian name of the restaurant. The

second was the scantily clad hostess wearing a bikini top and

grass skirt, and the third was the music, which threw him into

another region of the world altogether.

Sam had been paying attention that night when Mac had gone

on and on about his love for Polynesia and how he planned on

taking a vacation there as soon as he could talk himself into being

on a plane for so many hours.

He’d been listening.

“Look…” Sam’s voice behind him when they were being lead

to what seemed to be a private table to the left of a stage snapped

him out of his awed inspection of the place. “It’s not Bora Bora

but, if the reviews I read are accurate, you should be able to have

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335

a fairly decent tiki culture experience.”

Yup.

He’d paid attention, done his homework, and gone out of his

way to bring Mac to a place he would like.

To say he was stunned beyond belief would be an

understatement as big as the lump in Mac’s throat that was making

it impossible for him to turn around and at least say thanks, so he

concentrated on his surroundings.

The ambience of the place alone was breathtaking. Dimly lit

to create an intimate atmosphere, the dark stoned floors, bamboo

tables and chairs and thatched roof helped the restaurant look

and smell like he imagined a South Pacific island would, and the

wait staff with their sarongs and grass skirts just added to the

illusion.

He took a seat and continued his inspection, and only when

they’d placed their order of Mai Tais—because really, who’d go

to a tiki bar/restaurant and not order their most famous drink—

did he dare look at Sam.

He didn’t seem to be as rattled as he’d been before, but only

because he was doing his damn best to hide it. A month ago the

distant, cold as a marble facade would’ve fooled Mac, but one

thing he’d learned from the long conversations with his guy was

that Sam sometimes hid behind thick layers of indifference if he

was feeling agitated or confused.

After his behavior at the hotel, Mac was surprised Sam had

chosen to go through with his plans for the evening instead of

staying in their room and either fuck him in the most impersonal

way he could manage or pretend Mac didn’t exist. It took brass

balls to take Mac out on what looked and felt like a date half an

hour after Sam had warned him not to think this vacation would

change anything between them.

The man was going to drive him crazy.

How the hell was he supposed to not be moved when the guy

made sure their room was 515 only because Mac preferred it?

When he’d assured Mac they could split if they got sick of each

336 Taylor V. Donovan

other but had planned every second of their vacation together?

When he took him out to dinner to a special restaurant and later

a golf resort and damn Busch Gardens? When he kissed him like

he’d die if he didn’t? When, even though at the moment he was

pretending to study the menu, Mac could tell he was sweating

bullets in anticipation to his reaction? When it was obvious Sam

would give him the moon if he so happened to ask for it, even if

he’d never admit that he just wanted to please Mac?

How did a guy that felt the way Mac did make himself believe

none of it meant shit?

“So…” Sam cleared his throat and pushed his menu around

the table. “What do you think?”

Mac swallowed hard and bit the inside of his cheek while

he tried to figure out how to respond. Numerous answers came

to mind, but What in the name of God are you doing? and I

think I could love you for this were at the very top of the list.

He couldn’t voice either, though. The first would probably make

Sam clam up and the second would send him running back to

New York.

“This place is incredible,” he finally said with a smile that he

hoped didn’t give away his mental turmoil. “And I’m speechless.

How did you find it?”

“Google and the world wide web are marvelous things.”

Sam’s voice was low, and he watched Mac with the same

intensity an eagle would its prey. Thankfully their waitress chose

that moment to come back with their drinks, giving Mac some

breathing space.

She explained the chef ’s specials and the show that would

take place in about an hour. Then she took their appetizer

order, and by the time she told them to make sure they visited

the restaurant’s tropical garden before they left, Mac was feeling

much more in control.

Sam raised his drink for a toast and waited for Mac to do the

same, his blue eyes not blinking once, as if he didn’t want to miss

a thing. Or was he looking for signs that Mac might be getting

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the wrong impression?

“Here’s to thoughtful friends with benefits.”

Mac’s words were nothing short of a herculean attempt to not

let the events make him lose perspective of their agreement. He

smiled at Sam, clinked their glasses together, and took a swallow

of his drink, only to almost spew it all over the table when Sam

decided to add his own toast.

“Here’s to your first date.”

Mac put his glass down with a thud.

What. The. Fuck.

“I guess you’re feeling confused,” Sam grunted after downing

half of his own drink.

“Confused?” Mac repeated, and damned if he was going

to pretend he wasn’t a tad upset. “More like astonished.

Dumbstruck.” He grabbed his Mai Tai and drank half of it. Shit.

It was strong. “No. Scratch that. I’m flat out stupefied right now.”

“Why?” Sam’s words and the oh-so-fake puzzled expression

on his face made Mac want to hit something. A high pitched

chuckle escaped him. “It’s just a restaurant,” Sam rushed to say.

“Do you like it or not?”

“Mind doin’ me a favor?” Mac leaned forward until he was

close enough to kiss the guy… or kick him in the balls. He was

having problems choosing between the two. “Don’t insult my

intelligence right now. Please.”

Sam’s face turned a delicate shade of pink, but instead of

looking away or pretending he didn’t have a clue what Mac was

referring to, he nodded slightly.

“I thought it’d be a good idea to… you know… do the whole

gay date thing.” Sam took a deep breath and swirled his drink

with the slice of pineapple that came with it. “I thought it’d be

easier for you to be around potential homophobic pricks if you

didn’t have to worry about impressing a guy as well.”

“So it’s all part of Being an Out Homo 101, and I shouldn’t

be impressed by it,” he whispered. “Is that what you’re sayin’?”

338 Taylor V. Donovan

“Are you?”

“Impressed?”

Sam nodded and sipped on his drink again.

Lord have mercy.

The way Sam looked, like a little boy wanting to know if he’d

done good, confirmed Mac’s suspicion that maybe, if he played

his cards right, Sam would be game for something more than sex.

He knew he shouldn’t, but he couldn’t not try.

He wasn’t that strong.

He pecked Sam’s lips and caressed his strong jaw. “You bet

your ass I am.” He was also done holding his answers back.

“Impressed as hell…shocked…perplexed, I’m fuckin’ blown

away, darlin’.” He kissed his guy again, deeper and longer, then

rested his forehead against Sam’s. “Thank you for doing this for

me, whatever the real reason was.”

Mac expected for Sam to correct his assumption, to make it

very clear that Mac was doing what he wasn’t supposed to do and

reading too much into the whole situation. But the protest never

materialized.

Instead Sam gave him a shy smile, and his blue eyes were

shining with satisfaction when he leaned in to steal another kiss.

Mac had never seen the other guy look so pleased before. The

fact that it was something as simple as his approval made him

hope for what the sexy guy insisted would never happen.

There was no way Sam thought this thing between them was

just sex.

No. Way.

“There’s something I need to know,” Mac blurted out. “And

you’re going to tell me. We’re going to talk… Okay? Not about

the weather or the décor…just…talk.”

“What is it you need to know?” Sam looked as if he was about

to argue, but ultimately just nodded and took a sip from his drink.

Then he made a funny face. “Christ, this is strong. No more Mai

Tais for me. Three of these and I won’t be able to get it up.” Mac

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had to laugh at that. He knew his guy was always ready to go and

not much would interfere with his sexual appetite. “What do you

need to know?” he asked, nudging Mac’s leg under the table.

“I know you had planned on coming here with your friend,”

he said in a very low voice, trying to keep the resentment he was

feeling towards a man he’d never met under control. “Have you

stayed at our hotel before? Do you know if the rose petals on the

bed, the fancy bath oils and candles, and the rest of the fixings

are things every room gets? Were you stayin’ at the same hotel

with him?”

He needed to know. It was important that he knew.

“I never stayed there before.” Sam looked around the

restaurant, taking the time to consider his answer, and it wasn’t

until he’d made a decision that his eyes focused back on Mac.

“My friend offered to change the reservations once you agreed to

come along. I told him to make sure the room was 515 and asked

him to get me something nice.” He shrugged and took another

sip of his drink. “What we got must be Logan’s idea of nice. Had

I known, I would have never asked the fucker.”

His tone contradicted the words. It was obvious Sam was very

fond of this friend that, all of a sudden, Mac didn’t dislike so

much anymore. How could he, when he was the one who’d made

sure their room was a romantic wet dream?

Question was, why had he gone to the trouble of doing it?

“Maybe he thought you’d like it.”

“Or maybe he was trying to make me look good.” Sam was

trying to sound annoyed, but having a hard time pulling it off.

“Why would he do that?” Mac took a sip from his own drink.

“’Cause he’s a meddling queen,” he snarled but again, there

was no heat behind his words.

“So he’s gay.”

“That’s some deep fishing you’re doing, Mac. You going for

Blue Marlin or Barracuda?”

Mac didn’t give a shit that Sam had called him out on it. He

340 Taylor V. Donovan

just stared at the guy, and eventually the smugness was replaced

by a cute eye roll and Sam gave in.

“He’s gay,” Sam confirmed. “He’s also my best friend and one

of my teammates at work. I love him and trust him with my life,

but that’s all. We’ve never been lovers.”

“I’m happy he’s there for you to talk to when you need to.”

Mac really meant that, but damned if he didn’t wish that he could

also be that kind of friend to Sam. “Are you guys out at work?

What’s the FBI’s position in regards to homosexual agents?”

“My team’s a bit rogue. Not your conventional FBI type. Half

my team is gay or bisexual. None of us hide our preference, but

it isn’t something we make a big deal out of. Unless we’re around

the ’phobes, in which case we all become fruitier than a pack of

Skittles, and that includes my straight teammates.”

Mac cracked up at that. He couldn’t imagine a flamboyant

Sam to save his life.

“Have some respect, girlfriend.” Sam tilted his head and

swatted him on the shoulder, his deep voice adopting that

effeminate tone that was completely stereotypical but somewhat