by Cameron Dane
Until this morning.
Christ, Pay, I usually find such peace with you in here, and now I've turned everything into a disaster area. Marek sat down on a wide bench and leaned his back into the heat of the glass behind him. I even brought another man in here with me for the first time since you went away. Fuck. Why do I even care that Colin didn't come back yesterday?
Because he's an unpredictable, unsolved problem, Marek reasoned. He didn't know what Colin Baxter hoped to gain by making his outrageous claims, but he for damn sure wouldn't get a dime out of Marek for his troubles. Or maybe he will. Christ knows I owe it to him.
Or maybe Colin didn't want anything from Marek. Colin might just be telling the truth. About everything. But if that was the case, then why didn't he come back like he said he would? It all felt too much like mind games, and Marek didn't know if his was in any kind of shape right now to spar with someone out to swindle him. Or hurt him. Both could break him, in different ways.
Marek scrubbed his face, scratching through the stubble of his week-old beard. He looked around the greenhouse, searching for answers that simply didn't exist. Confusion ate at him, mingling with an ever-present state of exhaustion, dragging him down. Even though he could still hear Pay's reasonable, loving voice in his head, speaking to him clear as day, he wished he could talk to him face-to-face. Marek already knew Payton would tell him to trust his gut, to have faith in his instincts. He would also tell Marek to let himself go and believe someone would always be there to catch him. Of course, that used to translate to Payton meaning that he would be there, if only Marek could release his fears and openly leap into the safety of his lover's embrace. Jesus, Marek didn't want anything more than the security of those arms right now.
“Hello?” The voice came out of nowhere, making Marek shiver.
Marek slid his eyes closed, almost unable to bear the band tightening his chest. For a split second, he thought Payton rose and spoke to him from the dead. Worse, though, when the voice called out a greeting again and Marek realized it was Colin—returning as he promised—an even greater anticipation whooshed through Marek, making him feel truly alive.
And terrified.
I can't go through falling for someone and losing him again.
Marek somehow already knew it would be easy as hell to get caught up in Colin Baxter, whether aware of the man's true motives or not.
A knock sounded against the open door, and a second later, Colin peeked inside.
Goddamnit. Colin wasn't wearing anything special, just cargo shorts and a white T-shirt, but he looked fucking sexy enough to devour. His hair was cutely mussed, undoubtedly from the boat ride to Marek's place. The shirt he wore pulled at his shoulders and chest, outlining his lean, hard muscles; he already had his shoes off, as if he owned the place and planned to stay for awhile. Shit, he looked good enough to fuck. Marek stifled a groan as he envisioned himself bending Colin over this bench and smothering his cock in the tight confines of the man's perfect ass.
No. Anger at his own lack of control killed the wood trying to grow in Marek's khakis. Not in here. Not where I come to talk to Pay.
Colin moved into the greenhouse, wearing an easy smile that proved tougher to ignore than his incredible body. “You'll notice I didn't panic this time when I didn't find you up at the house.” That lethal smile grew even bigger. “See? I'm a fast learner.”
“Uh-huh.” Marek grabbed his bag of vegetables and pushed past Colin with an “Excuse me,” unable to be in this place with Colin and his own memories of Payton.
Catching up, Colin quickly fell in line beside Marek. “I apologize for not coming back yesterday afternoon. I wanted to, but it got dark before I finished my errands, and I'm not used to driving a boat at night.” Colin beat Marek up the steps to the kitchen door and held it open wide for him to pass through. “Especially in a place where I'm not familiar with the waters.”
“Uh-huh.” Please stop sounding so sincere. I don't know how to handle you if you're not working me for money. Marek moved to the sink and turned on the water, letting it run as he dumped the veggies into a colander already sitting in the deep copper basin.
“It's a beautiful day,” Colin said. He leaned against the counter near the sink, much too close for Marek's comfort. “I thought I might go for a swim. I can't believe it's my fourth day in Fiji, and I still haven't tested the waters.”
Rinsing a handful of baby cucumbers one by one, Marek kept his head down, avoiding eye contact.
“I thought if you joined me, we could talk and you might tell me a little bit about Fiji and how you came to live in this house.” Colin tapped his foot against Marek's ankle. “In between having some fun, of course.” He chuckled. “A person ought to be able to say they had a good time when they tell people about vacationing in a paradise like this.”
Colin's energy and seeming sweetness filled the air, generating life all around Marek and infusing the atmosphere with a zest he had not felt since before stepping foot on this island. Colin offered a temporary seduction, innocently or not, and lulled Marek with teases of bright colors in his everyday world of gray. Powerful needs still living inside Marek pushed at him to sink into this man standing next to him, but he couldn't give up his suspicions enough to do it.
“I don't know if you just lucked out,” Colin went on, “or you chose this place deliberately, but in my opinion, you have the prettiest stretch of ocean and beach I've seen around here. You have stunning turquoise water that meets a clean line of white sand. Then you turn around and what do you get? The most luscious tropical backdrop of palms and green-covered mountain around.” Colin laughed again and nudged his shoulder against Marek's, scraping at Marek's buried need for physical contact. “Of course, maybe I'm just prejudiced about the place since I've seen it so often in my dreams.”
Shut up. Shut up. Please stop talking. Right now. Marek jabbed the heel of his hand into the faucet handle and kicked the water pressure up higher in an effort to drown out Colin's voice.
Colin eased a hair away, giving Marek some breathing room. Clearing his throat, Colin said softly, “So, was it the house or the island that grabbed your attention first?”
Clamping his jaw, Marek shut off the water and lifted the colander full of vegetables out of the sink. He shook off the excess moisture and moved across the kitchen to the center island, giving Colin his back.
For a prolonged heartbeat, a thick silence permeated the air. Then Colin said, “Okay, Donovan, so that's how you're going to play this, huh? Give me the silent treatment?” Off the reflection of the glass-front cabinets in front of him, Marek saw Colin step in behind him. Dangerously close. Jesus, I can feel his heat. “That's fine. You don't have to interact with me or answer my questions. I can just keep talking and filling in both sides of the conversation. I warn you, though; I might run out of things to say after a while and resort to singing to fill in the nervous silences. Contrary to popular stereotypes, it won't be with show tunes or Britney either. We're talking eighties and nineties hair metal bands, power ballads mostly. I can't carry a tune to save my life, but I know a lot of Bon Jovi—”
Unable to take this seductive, torturous play anymore, Marek growled and spun around. He grabbed Colin by the shirt and shoved him into the refrigerator. “Jesus Christ, man. Shut up.” Marek uncurled his fist and held Colin pinned with an open palm very near to his throat. “Don't you get what it means when a person doesn't respond to a single fucking thing you say?”
Colin glanced down at Marek's hold on him and swallowed. “Yeah, I do,” he said, his voice hitching just a bit. “But I'm trying like hell not to let it hurt.” He didn't turn away from the eye contact, which made Marek feel even more like a cowardly bastard.
His chest lifted and fell in choppy swells under Marek's hand, but Colin pressed on. “I don't like picturing myself as a yippy little dog biting at your ankles, trying to get your attention, but I've also never had such a powerful need for answers. I know you say you haven't experienced
these dreams, so you can't understand, but there's something pressing on me that is forcing me to this house and to you.” Colin lifted his hands and smoothed his shirt. Their fingers brushed against one another, and the small contact jolted right through Marek, weakening his knees. “I sometimes lay in the dark thinking if I don't figure out the answers, if I can't uncover why I started having these dreams and why I suggested my best friend get married in Fiji—the place where the house and man in my head ends up being—that I truly will go insane.”
Marek ripped his hand off Colin and backed away, jamming his tailbone into the kitchen island. “I can't help you. I'm sorry, but I can't.”
Obvious frustration filled Colin, but he held his ground, still too close, even with five feet now separating them. “Give me one day, Marek.”
“Why?” Marek made the word sound like a curse.
Colin moved in again, eliminating more than half the space between them. He stood up straight and looked Marek in the eyes; renewed confidence made the green shine bright. “I dare you to give me a chance to prove myself. Spend the day with me. Just you and me, here on this island. Talking and hanging. Simple as that. If at the end of the day, you still don't want to see my face or hear my voice again… Well, I'll be honest and admit I can't say I'll disappear forever, but I'll find a way to get my answers with minimal interaction with you.” Colin closed the rest of the distance between them, mere inches away from riding his body right up against Marek's. Leaning in, he planted his hands on the counter on either side of Marek's waist. “Do you have the balls to take up my challenge?”
Marek snorted, but his arms shook with restraint. Damn it. He was two breaths away from being hard enough to fuck Colin right here on his kitchen floor. “Are you calling me out as a pussy if I say no?”
“Just wondering exactly what you have under those khakis of yours, Donovan.” Colin pushed away from the counter and walked backward to the door. “I'll be outside enjoying the beautiful day, seeing how the water feels. You'll give me your answer.” He walked outside and called out, “One way or another.” A second later, his T-shirt flew through the open door and landed in a white puddle on Marek's tile floor.
Once he was sure he was alone, Marek ran his hands through his hair and let out a shaky breath. “Christ.” He stared at the vacated door. “What a cock-tease.”
No way is he blackmailing me into joining him on the beach.
Still, Marek walked across the kitchen and picked up Colin's T-shirt, his desire for self-preservation not strong enough to ignore the deliberate flirtation. He put it to his nose, inhaling the warmth still clinging to the fabric. It said “Colin” even though Marek could not possibly identify scents or natural musks as belonging to this man yet.
Fuck, though, he smells sexy.
“Shit.” Marek shook his head. “Maybe he does know me.”
Marek went in search of his swim trunks.
Chapter Six
Marek spotted Colin stretched out across the dock, and he raced through the sun-heated sand in the direction of his prey. “I thought you said you were going swimming, Baxter? Sunning yourself isn't exactly—” Colin rolled over and stood right then, robbing Marek of his voice. His towel slipped out of his hand, the blue-stripe pattern drifting to the edge of the dock.
Oh Christ. I helped do that to him.
A long scar started somewhere under the waistband of Colin's trunks and veered in an upward arc over his lower stomach to around his side where Marek imagined it continued on his back.
“What?” Colin looked at Marek, only to follow his gaze down to where Marek stared. “Oh, you like that?” He scratched at the narrow line where it cut across his abdomen. “It's a little souvenir from a few guys back in Henderson. I was work—”
Marek lifted his hand. He couldn't stand still and listen to the details of Colin's attack. “I remember the story.” Three people in Halloween masks jumping a sixteen-year-old boy in the alley behind where he worked. “I read the newspaper after you were hurt. I know there was a knife involved.”
“Right.” Heat flamed across Colin's cheeks. He dropped his gaze and moved back a few steps but then stopped himself and stiffened his chin. “Don't look so damned horrified by it, for God's sake. It's a scar; it's not contagious.”
“Fucking hell, Colin. I didn't think it was, and you damn well know it. I just… It just…” Goddamn. Shit. Fuck. Marek paced to the edge of the dock, needing a minute to breathe and regroup. The idea that he would find anything repulsive about Colin, even with his uncertainty at the man's reasons for being here, was laughable. Guilt attacked him the second he saw the scar, yet Marek still wanted to drop to his knees and lick Colin's stomach. Jesus, the man had an incredible body.
A body you had a part in someone else damaging, Donovan, so stop thinking about it sexually.
Bracing himself, Marek turned and found Colin standing some ten feet away. “Obviously I know you were badly beaten and cut, but I didn't know it left such a permanent physical mark. It shocked me to see it for a minute; that's all. It doesn't gross me out or anything.”
“Okay.” Colin moved toward Marek with a slow, purposeful pace, putting Marek in mind of a sleek predator stalking game. “So long as I don't have to deal with you thinking I'm a freak”—he circled close to Marek, invading his space once again—“then we're cool.”
Colin's proximity affected Marek's breathing, making it a tangible, audible thing. “I can't promise that.” Marek couldn't look away from Colin's eyes, and he followed with every shift Colin made around him. Feeling sucked under the other man's spell, Marek's voice was husky, lending a seductive tone he could not control. “You do insist you're having dreams about me and my house.” He forced lightness and a wolfish smile to his face, needing the levity. “That's pretty damned freakish to me.”
Colin's face blanched for a split second and then he shoved Marek in the shoulder, making Marek stumble backward. “You son of a bitch jerk, calling me a freak.” His stare narrowed to slits of green. “You'll pay for that.” He rammed Marek in the stomach with his shoulder, stealing Marek's breath. “Hit the water, Donovan!” Colin pushed with every ounce of his strength; Marek could feel the guy's muscles straining. “Now!”
Marek grunted and fought back, tangling with Colin like a wrestler. He jammed his arms under Colin's and tried to flip the man over his shoulder, but Colin held with surprising power and forced Marek to the edge of the dock, nudging the heels of his bare feet nearly over the side. Adrenaline and endorphins rushed through Marek in a flood, forcing a burst of laughter out of him as he struggled, and in the process he gave up a bit more of the dock. His toes dug into the wood, but gravity pulled at the angle his body hung at, weakening his already shaky hold.
Colin wrapped his arms around Marek's waist and tried to force Marek to turn with his body. “Damn it. Give it up”—Marek's shoulder muffled Colin's voice—“or I'll fucking kiss you to get you in.”
His body jerking in response, Marek grabbed at Colin's hair and yanked his head back, locking onto his open gaze. A flash of instant fire ignited. They both tumbled off the dock and then hit the water together with a stinging crash.
The impact of his back slamming against the water knocked the wind right out of Marek's lungs, stunning him for a moment. Before he could catch his breath, a giant splash came right at his face, dousing him with salty spray. Another came right on top of that, pushing Marek toward the shore with the force behind Colin's playful attack. Colin gave a masculine cry of victory and skimmed his hands across the water, rushing repeated arcs of the stuff at Marek with his cupped hands.
A burst of energy put Marek into motion. “You'll regret that, rookie!” He found his footing in the shallower part of the bank and swung both his arms through the water, rushing a wall of ocean right back at Colin's face. He did it repeatedly, creating huge swells and man-made waves that completely engulfed Colin in the rush.
“All right, I give!” Colin coughed and sputtered, waving his h
ands. “Uncle. Uncle.” Another wave bobbed him up and down in its current. “Uncle.”
Marek shouted in triumph and pumped his fists, but swam out to Colin and grabbed his arm so he didn't float any farther out into the ocean. He smirked though; he couldn't help it. “That'll teach you to challenge the one who lives with the ocean as his front yard every single day.” He towed Colin to a point where his feet would touch the ocean floor and he could walk the rest of the way on his own.
Rather than moving up the beach, Colin dropped to sit down right near the shoreline and let his legs rest in the shallow water. “You do have a very nice liquid lawn, Marek; I will agree with that.” Colin looked across the sparkling water and up at the clear blue sky, squinting his eyes. “Damn, it sure is pretty.”
Marek took a good look around and almost felt like he gazed upon this landscape for the very first time. Its beauty staggered him, and he knew Payton would have loved every inch of it. Grief enveloped Marek, and he knew that somewhere, Payton was sad too. He's upset you've wasted two years hiding smack in the middle of paradise, never once opening your eyes and appreciating it, even if you could only do it for him.
Colin suddenly shot to his feet and spun around, turning in a slow circle. “Oh fuck.” He grasped his chest.
Leaping up too, Marek grabbed Colin's arm. “What?” Panic gripped his stomach. “What's the matter?”
Colin glanced at Marek's house then down at the sand, and his face scrunched, as if he couldn't identify where he stood. “I felt it,” he whispered. “I felt it just now.”
Fear sliced through Marek, shocking him in its intensity. “Felt what?” he asked, although he was almost afraid to know. “Are you hurt?”
“No. The pull.” Rubbing his open hand over his chest, Colin shook his head. “I felt the pull.”