by Clare London
Zeb was far more settled nowadays and had returned the favor a hundredfold, helping Aidan buy his own flat and trying to be there for him when needed. But… Zeb was Zeb. They’d always be as close as twins could be, but as two halves of the one whole, rather than the same personality.
And so… what more could Aidan tell Dominic about his family? He kept quiet, hoping Dom would drop the topic. No one even knew Zeb Z had a brother, let alone a twin. Aidan had lost track of the things Zeb had told interviewers over the years. Yes, that he was an orphan, but Aidan knew Zeb was infamous for making up entertaining stories rather than telling the bald truth, especially when it came to his past. The media forgave him anything and everything because he charmed them so thoroughly, and Zeb’s newsworthy dates distracted everyone from digging into his family story. It was a clever strategy, but it didn’t help Aidan now.
Oh, to hell with Zeb!
For the first time, Aidan actually found this whole project very empowering: being looked at in public, being perceived as a celebrity, being asked his opinion on things. Perhaps he should have been an actor after all, rather than always behind the scenes.
No! His mind swiftly contradicted him. The sudden thought of stepping onto a stage and facing a sea of blurred but expectant faces brought on a near panic attack. Public exposure was Zeb’s line of work.
Yet, strangely enough, Aidan was coping well enough with it tonight.
Chapter Twelve
“I’M prying.” Dominic gave a deep sigh and his breath rippled over the hairs on Aidan’s neck. “You can tell me to get lost. Most people do.”
The misery in H-G’s—Dominic’s—tone was uncharacteristic, at least as far as Aidan had come to expect. One of the things Aidan had enjoyed most tonight was the sanction to spend time with Dominic. To go out with an intriguing man without any of the usual worries of a first date. Obviously there were other tensions from this bizarre arrangement, but there was no commitment to meet again after tonight, was there? No pressure, apart from Aidan remembering his lines, such as they were. No need to get involved in small talk, to learn more about his companion, except what he was truly interested in. None of the paralyzing, emotional nervousness that usually tripped him up and made him act like a complete idiot.
Yes, he could just sit here, pretend to be his famous brother, drink, eat expensive refreshments, and ogle a very handsome fellow celebrity.
And be paid for it.
Aidan conveniently ignored that thought. He wasn’t only doing it for the money; he was doing it to help out that famous brother. As he always did. No one was in danger, and no one would be harmed by a little light deception. He swallowed a generous half glass of his champagne and only vaguely wondered why the overall level in the bottle didn’t seem to go down.
Of whichever bottle it was.
Aidan’s body felt the warning signs of champagne and closeness to a handsome man long before his brain told him to take notice—the brain that was obviously taking a break somewhere else. He leaned into Dominic and put his hand on Dominic’s thigh. Dominic’s muscles seemed tense there, though that might have been because he startled at Aidan’s touch.
“I know you didn’t want to do this,” Aidan murmured.
“What?”
The music was louder than when they’d arrived. Maxima was more club than restaurant and someone had upped the volume, but Aidan had no problem hearing Dominic over the background music.
“Go on this date. Be with me.” Aidan felt the devil rise up in him. “You said it yourself: we’re not much of a match. I expect your usual partners are far more impressed with your credentials.”
“My… what the hell?” Dominic looked genuinely surprised. “I don’t know what you’re on about, but I don’t set out looking for someone to impress. I want someone who’s good company, a strong character. Who’ll give as good as he gets.”
Aidan couldn’t help the wash of pleasure he felt at the indirect compliment. “No. I meant… well, you probably date bears like yourself, usually.”
“Bears?”
Shit. Aidan knew he’d slid onto thin ice, but his stupid tongue wouldn’t stop blabbing. “Sorry. I just meant tough guys like yourself. Big. Burly.” Could he sink any further into the pit he was digging?
But it seemed to have broken Dominic’s introspective mood. He started to laugh uproariously. “Burly? Does that mean you think I’m hairy too?”
H-G. No! Dominic! Aidan gulped. What was he meant to say to that after he’d been sitting there, peeking at the dark hairs curling over the neckline of Dominic’s shirt, wondering how far down the rest of it went? Whether Dominic’s legs were as deliciously furred, whether there’d be a decent treasure trail down to his groin that a man could tangle his fingers and nuzzle his nose into, to smell the sweet warmth of male skin….
Hairy skin. Strong arms. Warm, muscular thighs. Oh fuck.
The goose bumps ran over every inch of Aidan’s skin.
“I am hairy, can’t deny it. You like that idea?” Dominic’s voice was low and growly. He couldn’t have failed to notice Aidan’s sucked-in breath, the tensing of his stomach muscles. “Do you want to check out my hairy credentials?”
Aidan stared at him. Was that a joke? Was Dominic really attracted to him? Aidan had never found his build much of an advantage. Yes, he and Zeb were blessed with excellent bone structure, and in Zeb’s case the grace of a dancer, but out in the bars and clubs Aidan always seemed to blend into the background.
Ah, but he was meant to be Zeb now, wasn’t he?
“I think you’ve misjudged me, Zeb.” Dominic’s voice was very close to Aidan’s ear now. He’d placed his hand over Aidan’s, pressing Aidan’s palm onto Dominic’s thigh.
“I—what do you mean?”
“I wouldn’t have thought you were my type, I admit. But there’s a spark between us, isn’t there?”
Oh God, yes. But Aidan couldn’t admit that, could he? He gulped, wishing he’d eaten three pies, if only to soak up the effect of the champagne. The warm, heady excitement from his newfound courage wasn’t as robust as he’d thought.
Dominic smelled really good: a mix of vanilla aftershave, or maybe just soap, and a breath of tannin from the wine. Aidan couldn’t help it; his lips opened slightly and his tongue slipped out to moisten them.
“Dear Christ in heaven,” Dominic said on a ragged sigh. “You’re really gorgeous.” He sounded shocked. Aidan remembered him saying it when they met at Dominic’s house, but now there was an extra rumble underlying his voice. “Say my name again. I like it. Most people call me Dom.”
“Dom… Dominic.” Aidan heard the words but barely registered speaking them aloud. He was fixated on Dominic’s mouth, not his own.
Their lips touched.
Aidan gasped. It was the lightest of touches, but like the heaviest bolt from the blue. It was as if Dominic had breathed a flame into him through his mouth. His whole body shivered with excitement, a trickle of pure, heated delight on his skin compared to the sweaty air of the club. Dominic rested his hand lightly on Aidan’s shoulder, at the junction with his neck. He slid his fingers to the front of Aidan’s throat and stroked the hollow under his Adam’s apple.
It’s not enough! Aidan wanted Dominic to slide his hand down under the T-shirts—remind him why he was wearing so many, none of which actually fitted properly?—and touch his skin. Properly, firmly, with need.
With a soft moan of pleasure, Dominic leaned in to take the kiss deeper.
Aidan responded very, very willingly. He slid his outer arm around Dominic’s waist and pulled them closer together. Dominic lifted his other hand away from Aidan’s and rested it on Aidan’s knee. Their lower halves were hidden by the table, and Dominic’s knee pressed very tightly against Aidan’s. His large hand squeezed gently, and then slowly, teasingly slid up between Aidan’s thighs. He nudged harder, trying to push Aidan’s legs farther apart.
Aidan’s head was swimming from the kisses. Dominic’s mouth was
still on his, his surprisingly soft beard rubbing along Aidan’s jawline, his breath quickening. When Aidan twisted to get even closer, he felt the heat from Dominic’s groin and Dominic’s solid erection against his hip. He wanted to climb onto his date’s lap, however ridiculous or rash that seemed. Instead he ran his free hand behind Dominic’s neck and leaned in, excited despite himself at making out in a semipublic club. Dominic had cupped Aidan’s cock and balls, trapped inside Zeb’s skintight jeans. Now Aidan was aroused too; the seam of the jeans was pressing against his flesh, causing a strange, awkward, intoxicating pain. He half closed his eyes, relaxing into the embrace, enjoying Dominic’s firm caresses under cover of the table. It had been a long time since Aidan did anything like this, a long time since he’d wanted to do it, in fact.
He wanted more, needed more. Ached for more—
And that was the exact moment a camera flash went off in his face.
What the hell? Sudden panic rose up as a lump in his throat and a double-time heartbeat. What’s happening?
“Zeb?”
“Zeb Z! This way!”
Voices near the booth were loud and excited. Other diners turned to stare at the sudden action. Dominic let out an angry exclamation and gestured to the security men over by the bar.
Aidan’s panic continued unabated. They were being invaded! A young man with gelled hair and greedy eyes pushed rudely onto the seat beside Dominic, and two photographers snapped Aidan from the other side. He wriggled away from Dominic, desperate to get away from the reporter.
Dominic caught his arm as he tried to slide out of the booth. “Zeb? What’s up?”
“Let go,” he said through gritted teeth.
Dominic started to laugh, then stopped when he caught the serious tone behind Aidan’s words. “What the hell are you scared of? It’s just the bloody press. Parasites, I know, just like outside the cinema. But we’ll get rid of them—”
“No. I’m going. This is—” Terrifying? Gross? He couldn’t even think straight.
“But this is what it’s all about, isn’t it?”
“No, it bloody well isn’t. Not for me.” He pushed Dominic’s hand off his arm. “And I said let go! I’m not one of your bloody mountains you think you can… scale. Climb. Conquer!” He was a playwright, a wordsmith, for God’s sake, but he couldn’t seem to form coherent sentences.
Dominic looked as shocked as if he’d been slapped. “I thought you liked it. You acted as if you did. I thought it was part of the fun.”
“You thought wrong,” Aidan snapped.
“No, kid. I think you did.” Dom’s expression was thunderous now.
“And don’t call me a kid!”
“Should I call you a cocktease instead?” Dom snarled.
Aidan was struck speechless. How could things have gone from so good to so bad, so quickly? The security men were bundling the reporter’s team toward the exit and the manager was at their table, all but weeping his regret for the intrusion. But as far as Aidan was concerned, the damage had been done. People still stared at them openly, and he’d still been snapped with his tongue nearly down Dominic’s throat. Where was all his newfound confidence? The pleasure from Dominic’s touch? The warmth from being with a man he was really starting to like?
Gone.
Aidan scrambled out of the booth with less dignity than he would have liked, and surreptitiously adjusted the front of his jeans as best he could. He didn’t meet Dominic’s eyes or listen to the manager’s apology. His objective was the exit, and as fast as possible. “I’m going home,” he said.
He knew no one—not even Dominic Hartington-George—would argue with that tone.
Chapter Thirteen
DOM was feeling slightly stunned, and that wasn’t only because it was eight in the morning. He’d hardly slept all night, and a near-hysterical Eric was on the other end of his house phone.
“What the hell happened, Dom? Tanya’s going to go nuts. It’s all over Twitter!”
“What is, exactly?”
Eric gave one of his snorts. He didn’t bother to hide his true opinions from Dom, as Tanya so valiantly did. “There’s a full color photo in the Celebrity Exposed feed of you and Zeb Z snogging in that bar—”
“Snogging?”
Eric didn’t pause. “—then one of him rearing back from you in horror—”
“Horror?”
“Well, alarm, definitely. Then in the next shot he’s up and away, charging into the photographer’s lens like a mad thing, nostrils flaring, mouth open and spewing obscenities—”
“Stop!” Dom put every ounce of assertiveness into the word. He reckoned he could hear Eric wince even if he couldn’t see it.
There was a long moment of silence.
“Sorry, Dom,” Eric said eventually, more timidly.
“There were no obscenities,” Dom said firmly. “At least not from Zeb. He was just startled.”
“Yes, Dom.”
Dom suddenly registered a buzzing noise on his desk, coming from somewhere under a couple of unfolded maps, a catalog of expensive outdoor goods, and a dirty mug from a previous day’s morning coffee. That was probably where he’d left his phone. It rang persistently for another thirty seconds, then mercifully stopped. Dom didn’t need to find it to guess Tanya was calling him. “Don’t they say all publicity is good publicity?”
Eric cleared his throat. “Oh yes, yes. Usually. But this isn’t necessarily the publicity we were… you know… hoping for.”
Dom sighed aloud. It hadn’t necessarily been what he was hoping for either.
“Dom?”
“Leave it to me, kid.”
“Tanya will be getting in touch—”
“I said leave it to me!” Dom barked.
He clearly heard the sharp intake of breath on the other end of the line, even though Eric should be well used to Dom’s ways by now. Dom couldn’t help worrying; had he scared Zeb like that? He didn’t have time to dwell on it. He finished the call with Eric.
His phone had started buzzing again. One day he would program it with different—and more palatable—tones for each of his contacts. Not that there was much point when he only accepted calls from his expedition buddies and Tanya.
Mr. Antisocial, that’s me.
By the time he’d bundled all the wreckage off his desk, found his phone, and snatched it up to take the call, he’d had time to marshal his thoughts. “I know what you’re going to say,” he said preemptively.
“Unusually perceptive of you, Dom,” Tanya’s voice said wryly.
“I cocked it up.” Tanya’s startled gasp in reply was surprising, but Dom supposed she didn’t hear those words from him very often. “You’ll have to think of something else to improve my public profile and tempt the money in.”
Tanya was silent. Dom wondered if they’d been cut off, but when she started talking again, he wished they had been.
“That’s not possible at the moment, Dom. You need to see Zeb Z again.”
“After that bloody impromptu photoshoot at the club?”
Tanya’s voice held a thread of amusement. “That bloody impromptu, high-profile photoshoot, you mean?”
Dammit. “I thought, from the tone of Eric’s panic, it would all be off by now.”
“I know. But I’ve spoken to the sponsor, and they’re actually intrigued. I don’t think they’d have been convinced by staged photos and an attraction that wasn’t genuine.”
“You think?” Dom muttered, rolling his eyes for his own gratification, but Tanya either didn’t hear his reply or chose not to rise to the bait.
“The pictures make you two out to be a couple with the normal kind of problems we all have. Trying to have a private night out, enjoying each other’s company, showing affection.”
“Look, about that kiss—”
“Then there are sometimes misunderstandings, arguments—”
Yes, yes, didn’t I just say “about the kiss?” “Oh for God’s sake.”
Tanya chuc
kled. “Just take it easy, Dom, will you? Give the plan a chance. Give the young man a chance.”
“What does that mean?”
“If he upset you somehow—”
“Oh hell no. It wasn’t like that at all. Quite the bloody opposite.” None of it was Zeb’s fault, but what could he tell Tanya without sounding like a predatory monster? I treated him like a piece of meat. I kissed him like I was falling down a crevasse and he was the only one with a rope. I groped him, thinking he’d be up for a cheap, quick fumble under the table of a public place.
“Dom, what actually happened?”
“That’s our business. I certainly don’t want to talk about it.” Not about the fact that Dom had scared off an unexpectedly attractive and intelligent young man; that he’d actually been enjoying the evening until that point; that Zeb had felt completely comfortable in his arms, his cheeky responses and natural charm completely blindsiding Dom; nor that the memory of Zeb’s mouth had kept Dom awake for hours, reliving the touch. “Tanya?”
“I’m still here.” Her voice sounded almost kind. “Let’s talk over a plan. Come into the office today.”
“No bloody way.” Then he realized how graceless that sounded. “Leave it all to me,” he added. “I’ll sort things out. But I can’t guarantee he’ll want to see me again.”
“Like you said, Dom, that’s your business. Yours and Zeb’s. And you know what’s at stake. I know it’s safe in your capable hands.”
After she’d finished the call, he stood there for a few moments in the middle of the room, staring at the silent phone. Safe in his capable hands?
He’d never felt less sure of that in his life.
THE bells were ringing. And ringing. Aidan stirred under his duvet but didn’t want to open his eyes. There was some kind of harmony going on, except the bells didn’t sound properly synchronized. It was a painful sound. Several of them, in fact. Now a thumping beat had started up to accompany the bells. Except it didn’t. It hammered its own tune, and Aidan wished it would just shut the f—