The man across from him suddenly leaned his head back and smiled like he was the happiest guy on earth and Zane felt his brain dribble out of his ears. Shit, he wanted to talk to him. But what the hell would he say? His internal nerd lurched over in a panic attack, offering no help whatsoever. And then, Mikey spoke up and made Zane’s day.
“So you must be staying at Diamond Water, too?” Mikey asked, leaning toward the stranger, his black-eye from a brawl outside of a pub standing out like…well…a black eye. Of course it was no biggie to chat with a dude when you’re straight, Zane thought, nearly applauding his buddy for the show of initiative.
The dark-haired man smiled and nodded. “Yeah. I’ll be here for a week. It’ll be my first vacation like this in two years, I think.”
Zane was mentally begging Mikey to ask another question. Where’s he from! Where’s he from! Ask that!
Mikey made a face. “That’s a long time to go without a getaway,” he answered. “Where are you coming from?”
Yes!
The guy’s arms dropped casually from the seat back to his lap and Zane envied the way he came across so relaxed.
“Um, New Mexico actually. Albuquerque. I’m a senior dispatcher for the police department there.”
Zane blinked. No kidding? He was one of those calm guys who dealt with the real crazy shit day in and day out? No wonder he came across the way he did.
“That’s really impressive,” Zane blurted before he could think about how stupid he might sound.
The man’s attention flickered to him and even with the sunglasses, Zane sensed the weight of his gaze. He fought off a little shiver in the warm air.
“Thanks. I like what I do.” He bestowed a real smile on the three of them for the first time and said, “How long will you guys be here?”
Zane’s friend, James, spoke up and told him they were staying for just the week as well. “I’m James, by the way.” He pointed at Mikey and Zane and introduced them.
Mikey gestured at his eye and grinned. “I’m on the run from the cops,” he joked.
The man offered his hand to James first and shook, saying, “Mark Newland. Nice to meet you guys.” He hitched his chin toward Mikey. “If anyone asks, I never saw you, man.”
Mark Newland. It had a nice ring to it. Mikey and James exchanged a few more random comments with him about the possible fishing expeditions and manta ray extravaganzas they were interested in checking out, but Zane could only keep staring. He wished he could pull himself together and stop acting like a lock-jawed mute, yet sadly, he seemed doomed to silence.
Mark looked at him again and that half smile made another appearance before he slouched back down on his seat and started taking in the scenery.
So…no go on the gay, Zane thought. That blew.
James and Mikey managed to pull Zane back into conversation and he might’ve blabbed on about the resort’s dining and bars, but he wouldn’t swear to it. He was ever aware of Mark Newland across from him, oblivious to his presence. It was, in a small way, a relief from the norm of fawning people, yet there was a healthy part of him wishing that Mark would talk with him a little.
Abruptly, he shook himself out of the stupor that was descending upon him. This was a vacation. He wasn’t going to spend it pining for a guy who didn’t chat him up on a friggin’ shuttle boat. Relaxation and good times was his new mantra for the week.
The shuttle rocked to a stop at a dock that was covered in a hut-like canopy. Vines with white flowers grew up the pillars and wound through the thatch work. The smell was amazing… Sea and sunshine. Standing by to direct them to check in were a couple of super tan dudes with luggage carts and iridescent smiles.
Zane stood and watched as Mikey and James raced off like they’d seen naked women at the resort entrance, which left him to fend for himself with Mark. He gestured for the other man to go ahead of him, grimacing at the way he practically pantomimed the action of climbing out—his inner nerd cackling maniacally—and followed after Mark.
As Zane grabbed onto the support handle to pull himself out, a hand jutted into his line of sight and he automatically grabbed hold in an old-fashioned arm wrestling grip. He expected to look up and meet the eyes of one of the bell men, but instead it was Mark.
He was holding hands with him. Technically.
The guy flashed that secret little smile again and to Zane’s utter pleasure, he raised the sunglasses to the top of his head, revealing an awesome pair of green eyes that were holding—and still holding—his gaze. Holy shit.
“Thanks,” he murmured at Mark and finally loosed his grip. He wanted to say more, but Mikey and James chose that moment to holler at him from the entrance. “Shit,” he breathed. “I guess that I’ll uh…see you around then? Maybe?”
“Sure,” Mark grinned. “It’s a small island.”
Zane wanted to melt into a sloshy puddle right there on the pier, but he held himself together. Forcing one foot in front of the other, he followed the calls of his friends and left Mark behind. The time wasn’t right. One quick glance behind him and he saw that once again, Mark was oblivious to him, busy yucking it up with one of the resort guys. With new resolve, Zane disregarded his earlier lecture to himself. He’d make it a point to throw himself in Mark’s path as much as possible.
CHAPTER TWO
Mark finished talking to the bellman and headed inside as soon as he thought Whitlow and his friends had enough time to move on. He was exercising a lot of restraint because it would have been fun to follow Tall, Dark, and Handsome in and listen in on what bungalow Whitlow was staying in. Not that Mark would do anything about it if he knew, but whatever, knowledge is power…or something like that.
He took his time making his way to the check in desk and out of the corner of his eye he noticed Zane and his friends being directed back out of the main lobby area toward the Mount Otemanu side of the resort.
Mark chuckled to himself as he skirted past them. His salary didn’t really make a Mount Otemanu bungalow a possibility. It made Mark’s wallet cling to his ass cheek in fear just thinking about it. Guess that was what a guy like Zane could afford, though Mark was thrilled with his own beach view anyhow. It’s not like any part of Bora Bora was the pits and the further Mark was from the actor, the better. Too long in the other man’s presence and he’d say or do something stupid. The cool, aloof persona only worked for short periods of time. Besides, Whitlow was a little too big-time for Mark’s taste anyhow. There was so much pressure there and too much unknown.
Mark made it to the desk where a beautiful Tahitian woman with a name tag that read “Lea” was typing away on a computer. She smiled warmly in greeting.
“Welcome to Diamond Water, sir, are you checking in?”
“Yes, ma’am. It should be under Mark Newland.” He spelled his last name for her and waited as she clicked and perused the information popping up on her screen.
“Wonderful, Mr. Newland. You’ll be staying in one of our beach view bungalows.” She had Mark sign a few papers and then pulled together a packet of information, his room card, and a small map and slid them across the desk. “You’ll find the hours for recreational activities inside as well as the information you need to reserve a spot on any catamaran cruises or helicopter tours. If you need anything, don’t hesitate to contact us here at the desk. Please enjoy your stay.”
Mark thanked her and grabbed his shoulder bag. Helicopter Tours? Seriously? He’d barf before they left the tarmac. The bellman was leading him out through a set of side doors and he was busy looking over the map so he didn’t notice the group of guests headed back inside. One second he was walking, and the next he was slamming into a very firm chest and bouncing backwards like a Warner Brothers animation.
Scrambling to keep his footing, his arms flailed, but he had no need to worry. Hands with a strong grip caught him around the upper arms and steadied him.
“Shit! I mean—excuse me—sorry! Didn’t mean to swear in your face,” a deep voice belted. �
��You alright? I wasn’t paying attention.”
“No problem, man, it’s my—” Mark began but then he looked up and up and up a little more and found a pair of warm hazel eyes staring back down at him with concern. The eyes were framed by sun-bleached hair that was longer and fell over his brow in that rocker sort of way Mark secretly loved but didn’t like to admit—it seemed so edgy.
Professional surfer, Mark thought. His libido voted a yes, yes, yes. This man looked as though he stepped off an ad for Ron Jon’s surf shop, complete with the board shorts, tank-top and tan. His lean arms were tatted from wrist to shoulder, the multi-colored designs disappearing beneath the tank and reappearing on his neck. His legs below the shorts were also inked up. Mark could go home a happy man today what with the combination of Whitlow and this dude. Hollywood heartthrob and tatted tough guy. Sigh.
He cleared his throat and glanced between the Ron Jon model and his friends. “Uh…I was going to say that it was actually my fault. I was, you know, looking at the map.” Mark lifted the offending piece of paper slowly and shrugged. “I was in the zone.”
Ew. He just said “in the zone.” Gay.
Mr. Hazel Eyes leaned down so only Mark could hear and murmured, “If you’re that focused looking over a map, I’d love to see the way you focus on other things.” Then he patted him on the shoulder and moved away. “See you around.”
Mark stared for a long moment, frozen in place. It took the bellman clearing his throat discreetly to snap him out of it. Flirting! The guy might be tall—six five at least—and lean, but he was young, and there he was flirting with a thirty-three year old. Mark knew he couldn’t handle that much concentrated oomph. He was no Stella getting her groove back.
Two intense guys down… Maybe there was a mild-mannered newsman à la Brian Williams somewhere nearby. That seemed much closer to Mark’s speed.
When he finally got to his bungalow, he tipped the bellman and wandered around, staring in wonder at his surroundings and the room’s amenities. Unbelievable. He had his own little swimming platform to hop off of right into the clear blue waters of Tahiti. He had what amounted to a luxury bathroom with a spa tub and shower, and there were panels through the floor there and in the living room so he could see right down into the water.
He fell back onto his bed with a sigh that began in his toes and traveled all the way up his body. Free from the troubles on the job. Far from a man who had moved on to someone else. No expectations. And a dock he could jump right off of.
With a huge grin, he opened his suitcase and dug out his board shorts. In less than thirty seconds he was changed and launching himself off of the dock with a gleeful yell that, of course, in retrospect was totally lame and embarrassing.
“Free at last!”
***
Christian Blakely accepted his friend’s pat on the back and laughed right along with him. He lost the bet; it was only right that he pay up. It just so happened this was a bet he loved to lose. His friend, Kyle, was totally unaware that what he was asking was the kind of thing that Christian had zero problem with. The challenge came in making certain his true inclinations wouldn’t show through.
“A deal’s a deal,” Kyle had laughed. “Your challenge—which you have no choice but to accept—is to hit on the first guy you see after we leave this room. Then the rest of the trip, if he’s into you, you have to pretend you’re interested and go along with it.”
Christian acted appalled, but inside, his mind was thrumming. If he overlooked the obviously evil undertones of the bet, which he did, of course, it would be the easiest payback he ever had to make—unless the victim ended up being some family man with his large-boned wife and six kids in tow. Christian eventually agreed after a few minutes of feigned disgust and it was on the way back to the lobby that he smacked right into the nicest looking “bait” he’d seen in a long time—and that included the glimpse of the actor, Zane Whitlow, standing nearby. Since Kyle was here with his fiancée, Christian might even be able to pursue the stranger in privacy.
Definitely the best bet he’d ever lost.
***
He nearly got caught, but Zane managed to stick around the lobby long enough to step away from Mikey and James and catch which beach view bungalow Mark was staying in, and son of a bitch if it wasn’t on the opposite side of the resort! They might not run into each other at all if Zane didn’t do something about it. He wanted fifteen more minutes in Mark’s company so he could negotiate for the fifteen minutes after that…and after that… Zane was compelled to make a move and it was freaking him out a little.
With his buddies excitedly digging through a water sports brochure, he sneaked back to the desk and slipped his room card and info across the counter. The clerk blinked at him in momentary surprise before her training kicked in and she smiled brightly.
“Is something the matter, sir?”
Zane pulled out a smile of his own and decided that awkward honesty was his best bet, seeing as how the clerk wouldn’t likely call up some news rag and spill this.
“Hi Lea,” he said, glancing at her name tag. “The man you just checked in? I’d like to change my bungalow and make it as close to his as possible.” He blushed and tried not to wince as the fiery sensation swelled into his ears. People should watch him and take notes on what not to do.
“I don’t understand, sir,” she frowned in concern. “Is there something the matter with the amenities—”
Zane felt his innards curdling from embarrassment. “Not at all,” he croaked. “I’m sure the room is great. I just—it’s that I—listen, I really would love a room close to that man,” he pointed toward the door Mark had exited through. “Please.”
His mom always told him to be polite, but he was ready to vault over the reception desk and go to work on that keyboard himself if she didn’t help him out.
Lea stared hard at him for a long moment before making some sort of choice about his intentions. Her fingers flew over the keys as she looked up his reservation and shook her head. “Sir, you have a Mount Otemanu bungalow and we’d be unable to refund the difference. The list of amenities for the beach view bungalow is not as extensive either.”
Zane began sweating. His flimsy plan was getting flimsier, yet all he could think of was finding Mark again and getting the chance to convince him they were probably soul mates, based on the ridiculously short amount of time they’d been in each other’s company, of course. Zane was never like this—the whole thing made him look like he had no control.
But, he had to do what he could and go against the voice in his head telling him to give up. He always gave up on relationship opportunities. His heart was rattling inside him and it made him want to fight this time. Zane wasn’t sure where the certainty was coming from, but man was it alive and kicking.
“I don’t care about the refund. I’d appreciate whatever help you can offer. This guy could be—”
Lea smiled very slowly and nodded. “I understand, sir,” she finally said, putting him out of his misery. She went back to typing, using the number keypad like a bank teller.
“You’re in luck, sir. The bungalow beside Mr. Newland’s is open,” she murmured as though she wasn’t a witness to Zane’s mortification. “I’ve made all the changes, but your card will be charged at the higher rate.”
“What changes did you make?” said James, coming up behind him.
Zane jumped and waved for Lea to continue as he turned to face his friend. “I’m moving to a beach side bungalow.”
“What? That’s a downgrade, bro.” James turned and hollered across the lobby at Mikey. “He’s moving!”
Mikey dropped the wind surfing brochure and sauntered up, winking his non-blackened eye at Lea as he moved. He was already laughing. “I fucking knew it, you bastard.”
James looked back and forth between them. “What is it?”
“Mark Newland.”
James’ brow furrowed in confusion. “What about hi—ohhh.” He pushed Zane in the chest an
d grinned. “Ballsy, dude. Totally unlike you.”
“I know,” Zane worried. “I’ve gotta try though. Don’t ask me why.”
Mikey threw an arm over Zane’s shoulders and squeezed. “Aw. Our little guy is growing up, J.” He sniffled. “Someday he might even lose his virginity.”
Zane shrugged out of Mikey’s hold and took the new room card and info packet from Lea, thanking her before glaring back at his buddies. “Don’t taint this with your…whatever.”
James snickered. “He said taint.”
Sensing Zane’s proximity to spontaneous combustion, Mikey held up a calming hand.
“Easy, man. What’s your plan from here? Knock on his door wearing a wash cloth and a smile?”
Zane’s sigh was loud in the space in front of the check-in desk and he realized Lea was still right there listening. He tugged his friends aside and glowered at them.
“I don’t have a plan. Everything sort of falls apart after getting the room next to him. The least you assholes could do is have some pity and help me figure something out. I’m terrible at this crap.”
“I like the wash cloth idea. Or the taint thing.”
Zane cursed and turned to walk away when Mikey and James both grabbed him.
“Sorry. Sorry. Really,” James snorted through his laughter. “I had to.”
Mikey clapped his hands and rubbed them together like he was coming up with a brilliant idea. “Listen man, all you have to do is treat it like you do a job.”
“Sounds sexy,” Zane grumbled.
“No, I mean, you have all this confidence when you’re in character. Act like you’re confident going after him, too. Like you know you can get him. He’ll never know you’re about to shit your pants if you don’t let him know.”
James nodded like a dashboard doll in agreement.
Mikey had a point. Zane was sure of himself in interviews and on screen. Why couldn’t he carry it over to dating? He could. He had to.
Question Mark Page 2