by Tara Lain
Paolo shrugged.
“I think it was in the neighborhood, man. Remember that twink you liked and you told me you had to get out or you’d never be able to live your life?”
“Yeah. Little Juli. I had such a crush on him.” He smiled.
“Yeah. So you got out of the neighborhood and you went to school and you started a business and you brought me with you and you saddled yourself with your mom. Shit, you’re a regular Scarlett O’Hara saying ‘I’ll never go hungry again.’”
“I can’t believe you’re quoting Margaret Mitchell.”
“Hell, I love that movie, esé. But hear me. You said you’d never live your own life if you couldn’t get out. So you got out.”
“Yeah?”
“Time to start living.”
“But the TechZel building?”
“I don’t think Mo hired us because of your friend, but even if he did….” Alonzo spread his hands. “He decides to fire us, his loss.”
“Tell that to the employees.” Paolo cocked half a smile.
“None of the employees are asking you to screw somebody you don’t like or pass up somebody you do to keep an account.”
Paolo bent his head and wiped a hand over his neck. “I haven’t lost my taste for twinks.”
“Good. It’ll help make up for all the ones you passed up.”
“Let me think on it.”
“Okay, but don’t think too long. No point letting one get away.”
Paolo looked up and grinned. “You’re one helluva friend.”
“Back at’cha, my man.” He stood. “So who’s the guy?”
“The artist working in the lobby on the mural.”
“I heard you didn’t like him.”
“This’s his brother. Twin brother.”
“No shit?”
“They’re identical in looks but opposite in personality.”
“I’ll be damned. Next time I go through the lobby, I’ll look up.” He winked. “So we need to get to work on a design concept.” He glanced at his watch. “I’ll assemble the troops for a preliminary.”
Paolo nodded, and Alonzo left the office.
Good friend. But it was one thing to have your best friend accept your romantic idiocy. The rest of the world? Another story.
He gathered his materials and headed for the brainstorming room, complete with walls of marker board, tons of coffee, and even play toys in the middle of the table to stimulate ideas. Alonzo sat there already, and a sheet of paper lay in front of every chair. Paperless worked for records, but creatives needed a place to doodle. The design team filtered in and started reading the parameters for TechZel.
Zeke, one of their young design wizards, raised his arms. “Man, this is flippin’. Totally clutch. We get to do this cool building, all high-tech and bleeding edge?”
Alonzo smiled at him, but Paolo felt a little crease between his brows. If Mo really respected Joseph’s opinion so much, how high-tech and “bleeding edge” could he really be? “I don’t want to go overboard. The CEO was referred to us by a guy who thinks Mediterranean is classic, clean, and always a good choice. Our TechZel guy may consider himself groundbreaking, but we better not test his resolve.”
Alonzo said, “You really think so, Paolo? I got the feeling that he responded well to your suggestions and came to us because he wants to think outside the Orange County box.”
“Yeah, well, we can round off a few corners, but let’s not create a trapezoid, okay?”
Alonzo shrugged, and the team began discussing parameters and how they could fit into city codes.
Paolo participated, but half his brain drifted down to the lobby and climbed the tall scaffold.
Chapter Thirteen
ROBIN LAY on his bed in the very early morning light and stared at the ceiling. His fingers itched to call Micah and say yes, but no go. (A)—he hadn’t heard from Paolo Lind, and (B)—he hadn’t told Bobby one effing thing about the whole colossal mess.
The soft tap on his door made him start. Much too early for Bobby. “Is that you?”
The door pushed open, and Bobby hung on the doorframe like Lauren Bacall. “Rooobin. Who else would it be?”
Robin snorted a laugh. “Yes, dear? What are you doing up at this hour?”
“I want to know what’s wrong.”
“With what?”
“You.”
“Uh, nothing.” He sat up and brushed at his sweatshirt as if it might wrinkle. Right.
“Come on, you haven’t been yourself for at least a day. You’re being jumpy and secretive, and that makes me scared.”
“Scared?” He frowned. “Come here and sit.”
Bobby crossed the room and plopped down next to Robin, who put an arm around him.
“What have I done to make you scared?”
“When I ask you something, you won’t look at me.” He snuggled against Robin’s side. “It always makes me feel like I used to when you’d come back from your weekends at Uncle Harold’s.”
Robin’s breath caught and he tried not to tense. “There’s no reason to be scared. Everything’s fine.” He pointed at the headboard. “Get comfortable and I’ll tell you what’s happening, okay?”
Bobby’s brows lowered over his eyes, but he crawled to the top of the bed and sat, pulling one of Robin’s bed cushions against his chest like a shield.
Robin smiled. “Seriously, there’s nothing bad.”
“Really?”
“Yes.” He sighed loudly. Twin ESP. No way to beat it. “Okay, here’s what happened. Paolo Lind asked you out.”
“What?” The pillow dropped from his hands.
“Right. He asked you to go to dinner. But since we saw him with that other guy, I told him that you weren’t going to go out with a man who already has a boyfriend, and if he wanted to go out with me—uh, you—he has to divest himself of said boyfriend.”
“What!” His big blue eyes consumed his face. “Wait. Just wait.” He pressed a hand against his chest and sucked in air. “What you’re saying is that Paolo asked you to ask me if I’d go out with him?”
“No, dear, of course not. He thinks I’m you.”
His brows, which currently rested somewhere near his shaggy bangs, lowered. “So he asked you to go to dinner.”
“No. I’m pretending to be you, remember? Your idea. And I’m doing a damned good job of it, if I do say so.”
“You really think he believed he was asking me?”
“Of course. He hates me, remember?”
He ran a thumb over his chin. “True.”
How to hurt a guy.
“But you took it on yourself to tell him I wouldn’t date him unless he broke up with what’s-his-name? Without even asking me?”
Robin crossed his arms. “Bobby, I couldn’t exactly say ‘Let me call my brother, whom I’m pretending to be, and ask him if he minds if you two-time your boyfriend in order to go out with him.’”
“I suppose not. What did he say when you delivered this ultimatum?”
“First, that he respected it.” He glanced up. “I’ve got to tell you that he confessed he dates what’s-his-name because he’s good for business.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah. But I told him he’d be lucky to get you—uh, me. You. You know what I mean. I said maybe I’d hear from him.”
Bobby flopped over on the bed in a heap. “Oh, Robin, I understand you did it to protect me, but did you have to wreck my chances completely? He’s really gorgeous. And smart. And successful.”
Triple agreement on that. And even nice—when he isn’t around me. Robin flashed a huge smile. “Well, he did say he’d be calling you for sure.”
Bobby sat up like a shot. “He did?”
“Yep.”
“Oh my God, oh my God. Why didn’t you say that, you nasty boy?”
“To torture you.” He reached out and brushed hair from Bobby’s forehead. “And because you need to know how it went down, since he thinks he was talking to you the whole ti
me.”
“Oh my.” He flopped again, but this time with a blissful smile that made Robin’s stomach lurch a little. Don’t be stupid. You have Micah. Bobby sighed. “What do you think I should wear? Maybe I should call him and tell him that I understand the need to maintain business relationships and that doesn’t completely rule out my seeing him?”
“Bobby, I was pretty firm. Don’t compromise on this issue.”
“Oh, Robin.” He curled his legs and folded up to sitting cross-legged. “You’re the uncompromising one. Not me.”
Robin sighed softly. “Well, in this case, I think I got you what you really want. He seemed to like it.”
“I haven’t gotten any texts saying he’s free to date me.” He stuck out his bottom lip, then smiled.
“You will.” I hope.
“So this is what you’ve been so weird about?”
“Well, I wanted him to text or call before I told you, but you wheedled it out of me.”
“When did all this happen?”
“Yesterday.”
“I suppose it might take a little time to break up with what’s-his-name.”
“Yes. I guess so.”
His eyes widened again. “You think he’s not going to call me, don’t you?”
“No, I don’t. I mean, I do. I’m sure he is.” I hope. I hope. And if he doesn’t, I can’t really go out with Micah.
“Oookay.” He dragged himself off the bed and started toward his room.
“I’ve got an idea.”
He looked back. “What?”
“Since you’re up, why don’t you go to the building and paint? I saw Paolo yesterday morning early. He just might use the same opportunity to talk to you again.”
“God! At this hour? Only if you make coffee.”
“Deal.”
He grinned. “Ooh, fun. I’ve never looked forward to painting at the crack of dawn before.”
“Get going or you might miss him.”
Bobby hurried to the door, then paused. He looked over his shoulder coyly. “Robin, when you went to the studio with Micah and his sister, did he ask anything about me?”
Well, damn. “No, dear. We moved pretty fast, so he wouldn’t have had a chance.”
“Yes, I suppose.” He trotted back to his bedroom.
Hellfire. Apparently even the charms of the glacial ice god weren’t enough to erase the power of Micah Brown. But then again, the opposite also seemed to be true.
VERTIGO. HOW the hell does Robin go up and down this scaffold like a damned monkey and never get dizzy?
Bobby pushed his box of favorite brushes up over the lip of the scaffold and breathed a sigh that everything else was already there. He hauled himself up and sat with his eyes closed, just breathing. Hot too.
Quit bitching. It’s just for a little while. He opened his eyes. Holy cow. The mural glowed in front of him, deep, mysterious, brilliant, and oh so Robin. It’s gorgeous, but I think it needs a little Bobby.
He fished in the box of brushes for the mirror he’d packed specially, pulled it out, and checked to be sure his hair hadn’t gotten mussed in the climb and his makeup looked good in this light. Oh yeah. He stashed it away and picked up a brush. Time to Bobby this mural.
Squeezing yellow onto the palette paper, he mixed it with thick white, then blazed it through the heart of darkness. Yes! While he didn’t claim to be the talent Robin was, he knew his viewpoint added to their compositions. They weren’t twins for nothing. He let his mind flow free until he was practically dancing across the scaffold, flowing paint onto the mural, the long climb up forgotten.
“Whoa!” The scaffold began to shake, and Bobby staggered back toward the wall. “Hello?”
A head popped over the top of the ladder. “It’s me.”
Bobby gazed at the architectural perfection of Paolo’s face. He grinned. “And such a pretty me, I’ll even forgive you for nearly scaring me to death.”
For a second Paolo’s brilliant eyes widened. Uh-oh, did I say the wrong thing? Then Paolo smiled. “Well, you’re in a charming mood this morning.”
Okay, Bobby, tone it down a little. He crossed his arms. “Sorry, I was flying through space on the mural.”
Paolo propped his hip and sat on the scaffold while he left his legs dangling in the air, which made Bobby a little antsy. He gazed at the mural. “Amazing additions to the piece. I love the introduction of light.”
“I’m glad.” That was sure true. He squatted down near Paolo.
Paolo looked down at his hands. “So I wanted to tell you that I, uh, broke off with Joseph, uh, the man your brother saw me with. I’ll confess it would be overstating to say I broke up with him, because we were never really exclusive. But I did turn down his most recent invitation with the proviso that I was seeing someone else.”
Bobby pressed a hand to his breastbone. “Well, bless your heart.”
“I hope that does the job.” He smiled and gave Bobby a sideways look.
“Well, of course. I’d never turn down such a sincere expression.”
“Good. So you’ll have dinner with me?”
Bobby waved a hand. “Put me on the menu, darling.”
Again he got that slightly startled expression, but Paolo smiled. “Excellent. Are you free Friday?”
“Well, never free but damned reasonable, as my daddy used to say.”
This time Paolo burst out laughing. “You always amaze me.”
“I hope that’s good.”
“Definitely. Can I pick you up? Perhaps we can dance or go to a show after dinner.”
“Oh, I love to dance.”
“We’ll plan on it. Where do you live?”
“Laguna Beach. I can meet you if it’s out of your way.”
“Not at all. I live in Crystal Cove.”
“Give me a number and I’ll text you the address.”
Paolo cocked his head. “I gave you my number, remember?”
“Oh, of course.” He showed his teeth. “Bet I could get big bucks selling it to admirers.”
Paolo flashed a little crease between his brows but gave a tight half smile. “Not likely.”
Bobby bit his tongue. Quit trying so hard to be cute. “I’ll text the address.”
“I’ll look forward to it. Do you like Rick’s?”
“Love it.”
“Uh, do you live alone or—?”
“I live with Robin.”
“I see.” Whoa. That crease showed up big-time.
Bobby shrugged. “We really do a lot of things together. I mean, even when we’re apart we know how the other one feels, so we figure we might as well be together.”
“Amazing.” He looked up and the crease was gone. “See you Friday.” He smiled and their eyes met, sending a bolt of shivers down Bobby’s spine. Paolo said, “And probably before. Bye, beautiful.” He swiveled and planted his feet on the ladder.
“Oh my.” Bobby sighed long and loud.
Paolo laughed all the way down to the floor.
Bobby plopped backward onto his butt. That man is sex on two feet! He fanned himself. But he makes me nervous and I say stupid things. He glanced at his watch. Damn. He cleaned the brushes he’d been using in a mason jar of turp and tightened a lid on it, packed up his supplies, and peeked over the edge of the scaffold to be sure Paolo wasn’t around. A couple of people hurried through the front doors and rushed to the elevators. Probably getting toward late-to-work time.
No Paolo.
He hooked his bag of supplies over his neck and very carefully planted his feet on the ladder, then crawled down ever so slowly. Man, the less he had to do that, the better. Yes, he’d like to be the one seeing Paolo every day, but he didn’t envy Robin’s hours on the hot-as-shit platform in the sky.
When his feet happily hit terra firma, he glanced around, then scampered across the lobby and out the door. The Prius stood near the curb, out of sight of the lobby. The motor was probably running, but you could never tell with that car. Bobby peered in the win
dow, saw Robin, opened the door, and leaped in. “Go!”
As he put on his seat belt, Robin took off in a blaze of hybrid whirring. “So did it work? Was he there?”
Bobby punched the air. “Yes!”
Robin glanced over. For one second his expression was… odd… but then he smiled. “And I gather he took advantage of your early a.m. presence.”
“Yep. He crawled his beautiful ass all the way up that scaffold, told me he’d declined an invitation from Mr. Rich and Powerful, and asked me to dinner.”
“Fantastic. I hope you made him grovel just a little.” He chuckled.
“Well, not too much, but I gather you’d already put him through some flaming hoops.”
“Yeah.” He turned right onto the freeway exit that led to the Canyon Road. “There’s one thing.”
“What?”
“I don’t know what it is, but there’s something about the guy that suggests to me that he kind of likes a challenge. Don’t make things too easy.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.” Bobby stared out the windshield. What shall I wear Friday?
“Of course, he hates me, so what do I know?”
Bobby laughed. Glad I didn’t have to say that. “By the way, remember to give me his phone number.”
They drove quietly for a couple of minutes as Bobby planned his wardrobe.
“Uh, Bobby.”
“Yes, dear?”
“I wanted to tell you—damn!” Robin braked hard behind a Beemer that pulled from the parking lot across the road and cut through both lanes of traffic. “Sorry. The asshole.”
“Whew. Glad you were driving.” Bobby and rush-hour traffic were always a little dicey. “So what did you start to say before we were so rudely interrupted?” He laughed.
“Uh, right. Well, it’s kind of surprising. A real shock, actually—”
Bobby looked at him with wide eyes. “What?”
“A good shock.”
“Robin, dammit, spit it out.”
“Micah Brown asked me to dinner.” Robin’s knuckles on the wheel seemed to get a little tighter, and he stared through the windshield intently.
Socked in the gut. Bobby’s eyesight went fuzzy for a second as he held his breath to keep from screaming. “Oh, wow.” Come on, stop being stupid. “That’s amazing. Great. When did that happen?”