Bleu Balls

by Tara Lain

  “Yeah, well, he’s probably like me. He needs some light to penetrate the darkness from time to time.” Robin looked over at Micah as he parked in the driveway of a modern two-story house.

  He got this warm, sweet smile on his face. “Well, Bobby’s sure the guy to do it.”

  Robin looked up at the house. “Pretty.”

  “Thanks. I bought it run-down, and I’ve been having it remodeled a bit at a time. Some of it’s still dated, but it’s coming along.”

  “I’m anxious to see it.” He let himself out of the passenger door, and his self-help stopped Micah about halfway around the car. Damn, he’d never learn to let people help him.

  Micah led the way up some stairs to the front porch and keyed it open. He hit the lights, and a modern chandelier hanging in the vaulted entry came on with a sparkling light that shone patterns on the walls. The high surfaces were decorated with art, including a Roman piece of two nude men standing in the surf.

  “Wow. I’m impressed. Nice choices in art.”

  “Thank you. I’ve only been able to afford a few originals so far, although I’d love it if you and Bobby would guide me around the Sawdust.”

  Robin nodded. “Great idea. You can sometimes get some great prices on good pieces there, because the patrons are a lot more eclectic than at the festival. But you have to be careful. Some of it’s just crap.”

  “That’s what I figured. Come on in.” He led the way into a medium-sized room with a beautiful glass wall that faced the ocean. While there were houses between, the height of the house up the hill provided an unimpeded water view.

  “Great view.”

  “Yes, that’s what sold me the house and made it worth remodeling.” He motioned to a leather couch positioned facing the view. Unfortunately that put it catty-corner to the fireplace. A couple of chairs were positioned against the wall. The arrangement grated on Robin’s sense of order. Do not be critiquing Micah’s home-decorating skills. Micah walked toward the partly open kitchen. “I’ve got a couple kinds of wine, beer, and iced tea. No champagne, I’m afraid. I’ll remedy that.” He smiled, and that sweetness that spoke so much of Bobby shone through.

  “If you don’t mind, I think I’ll go with tea.”

  “Hmm. That could single-handedly spoil your reputation.”

  Robin grinned. “I’ll have to risk it.”

  “I promise to stock champagne next time.”

  “Very kind, but truthfully neither of us drinks a lot. We have so many other vices, we have to cut back somewhere.” He flashed the dimples.

  Walking toward the kitchen, Micah laughed, but he did get a slightly wide-eyed look. A couple of minutes and some ice clinking later, he came back with a glass of tea and a beer in a frosty bottle. He handed Robin the glass, clinked it with his bottle, and then sat on the floor on the other side of the coffee table.

  Damn, he just couldn’t help himself. “You know, those chairs might work well across from this couch.” He held up a hand. “Sorry, I’m such a ninja decorator.”

  “No, that’s great. It’s just that I can’t seem to get this room to work. The fireplace and the window and the TV all seem to be in the wrong place.”

  Robin bounced up. “Do you mind?” Without a by-your-leave, he started pushing at the couch.

  “Uh, where do you want it?”

  “Out of the way for now, because I want to reposition that rug before we place the couch.”

  “Oh, okay.” Micah swung into action, and for the next forty minutes they moved furniture, repositioned paintings, placed objects, and even rehung the television.

  Micah stood back and surveyed the results. “Wow. I mean, who the hell knew the room could look this way? You’re amazing!”

  Robin flopped on the newly repositioned couch, which now provided a view of the television and the fireplace, since one hung over the other, as well as a grand expanse of view. “Just your ordinary brilliance, no big.”

  “Would you like more tea? I could go out for champagne if I can find anything open. Can I give you—my firstborn child?”

  “Really?”

  “Hypothetical child.”

  Robin sat up. “Do you want children?”

  “Oh yes. You?”

  “I doubt it. I had such a screwed-up childhood, I’d hate to pass it on.”

  “Really? I thought Bobby told me you two were supported by your parents?”

  Robin shrugged. “We had different childhoods.”

  “You can adopt. Then none of your DNA’s involved.”

  Robin snorted. “It’s not my DNA, it’s my brain. I’d never wish it on some helpless child. I’ll have a glass of wine.”

  “Oh, okay.” Micah walked into the kitchen and returned with two glasses of white wine. He sat next to Robin and handed him the glass. “Listen. I want to tell you that I think you’re great, and your brain is also great. Wonderful, even. I see the way you take care of Bobby. A child would be lucky to have a dad like you.”

  “Ah, but the child wouldn’t be my twin. It’s a relationship impossible to describe.” He smiled.

  Micah gazed at him with those big, liquid eyes. Such a sweet man. Reaching out, Micah touched Robin’s cheek.

  Robin gave him that half smile that was secret code for If you want it, take it.

  Micah pressed his finger under Robin’s chin, cocked his own head quizzically as if for permission, then tipped up Robin’s face, leaned in, and pressed their lips together.

  Warm. The overriding impression. Warm lips, warm hands, warm heart. Micah opened his mouth, providing a taste of wine and a little tang of beer, and Robin took the cue. Wrapping his arms tightly around Micah’s strong chest, he pressed his tongue into the readily available space. Micah startled, froze for a second, then added his arms to the clinch.

  Robin explored, swiping his tongue deep into the secret heart of Micah’s mouth, teasing, burrowing into the spaces between the lips and teeth. Personally he found that move indescribably sexy and hoped he was laying bread crumbs.

  Micah giggled in his throat.

  What? Robin pulled back and stared at him.

  “That tickles.” He flashed those perfect teeth.

  “Okay.” He dove back in. Come on, this is the sexiest, cutest guy you’ve laid your orbs on—save one—in months. Actually months and months and months. This has got to pick up. Come on, cock, do your thing. Hell, he fucked near strangers with more wiggle from the rod than this. Not that his dick wasn’t jiggly, but usually after a good kiss, he could hammer a penny nail with the thing.

  He upped his commitment. Using some of that carefully cultivated skill, he put a hand on Micah’s ass and ran a finger down his crack through his slacks, then pressed him backward on the couch and brought his slim body down on top of him. Oooh, a nice groin-to-groin pressure.

  Again, Micah tensed for a minute, then got with the program. He wrapped his arms around Robin and pulled him sideways so they lay face-to-face.

  Hmm. Not quite what Robin had in mind. He scooted forward, trying to get their hips back in contact. Micah held him off with a gentle hand to the chest and a kiss on the nose. The nose? Really? Suddenly his brain registered the moment. A guy who wanted to take it slow and make sweet, loving gestures like a kiss on the nose. That approach gave Robin sugar coma—but Bobby would have loved it.

  Bobby.

  Micah wrapped a gentle hand around Robin’s head and leaned in.

  Robin pulled back.

  “Uh, did I do something wrong?”

  Robin slid backward onto the floor and leaned his back against the couch so he was facing away from Micah. Less chance of looking judgmental, which he really didn’t want to do.

  “Micah, why did you ask me out?”

  His voice came close to Robin’s ear. “I think you’re gorgeous and talented and fun and someone I’d like to be with.”

  He glanced over his shoulder and smiled. “Thank you.”

  Micah smiled back and kissed Robin’s ear. Robin forced hi
mself not to shake the kiss away.

  “But aren’t you really describing Bobby?”

  The silence broke his eardrums.

  “Uh, both of you, I think.”

  He turned and tried to keep his face soft. “But mostly you’re talking about Bobby.”

  Micah stared at a thread on the couch and worried it with his fingers.

  Robin softened his voice even more. “I wondered why you asked me out instead of Bobby. It’s always appeared to me that you’re more attracted to him.”

  “Not exactly.”

  Robin flipped around and sat cross-legged facing Micah, who still lay on his side. “I know—I’m kind of sexy, right?”

  Micah nodded.

  “But when all the pants are down, Doc, sexy isn’t what counts with you. You want romance.”

  He shrugged.

  “Trust me on this. You do. And I’m a crappy deliverer of romance. I’m not a sweet, kind, loving guy like Bobby.”

  That brought Micah up to sitting in a flash. He grabbed Robin by the shoulders. “Will you stop that? Your idea that you’re some kind of evil person is a self-fulfilling prophecy. People like you, Robin. I like you. Your brother adores you. Hell, even that demon-spawn architect thinks you’re great.” He laughed.

  Robin caught his breath but controlled his face. “Why would you say that? I practically lost us the contract, he hates me so much.”

  “Bullshit. But regardless, you’re a terrific person.”

  “Who you shouldn’t be dating.”

  Micah sighed. “You’re probably right. Hell, I loved decorating the room with you. But it wasn’t foreplay.” He shook his head but still chuckled. “I originally planned to ask out Bobby.”

  “Why didn’t you?” Total bullshit that despite the fact that he agreed, his chest tightened.

  The breath Micah let go was long and sad. “I have a brother who truly hates that I’m gay, and Bobby’s so—”

  Robin frowned. “Bobby. But if you don’t like that Bobbyness, you shouldn’t be messing with him.”

  “I do like it.” He stared at his hands folded on his knees. “I love it. I guess I’m afraid of what my brother will say. I’d never want anyone to hurt Bobby, but I want to be able to introduce my date to my family. They’re an important part of my life.”

  “He’s a lot stronger and more resilient that you expect.”

  Micah looked up. “I truly apologize for thinking even for a minute that the two of you are interchangeable.”

  “Thank you.”

  “I’d sure like it if we could be friends.”

  Robin chuckled. “Yeah, that’s way more comfortable to me than feeling like I’m trying to fuck my brother.”

  “What?”

  “You two are so alike it’s scary. Jesus, put you in the same room and unicorns will build castles out of rainbows. You’re both just so damned nice.”

  “Sorry.”

  “Hey, we’re also talking about my best friend here. I stay with Bobby hoping some will rub off on me.”

  “More than a little has.” He popped his shoulder as if trying to shake off the tension. “But I guess it all doesn’t matter, because it looks like Paolo got there first. I’m not a boyfriend poacher.”

  Shit, that problem went both ways.

  BOBBY WALKED up to the door of their apartment and inserted the key. Wonder if Robin’s home? I hope so.

  That unexpected thought made him gasp softly.

  “Everything okay?” Paolo asked from behind him.

  “What? Oh yes, sorry. I just remembered something I forgot to do.”

  “Sounded serious.”

  “Uh, yes, kind of. I promised to, uh, package up some pieces for a customer and have them ready to pick up tomorrow morning at 8:00 a.m.”

  “Oh, are the pieces here? I can help you.”

  “Thank you, but no. I have them at the studio. I don’t know what I was thinking. I guess just looking forward to our date too much.” He turned toward Paolo and smiled—right, the smile of the Liar Bird.

  “Want me to drive you to the studio?”

  Think fast, you dumbass. “I need Robin to help me.”

  “Oh. I see.” Paolo visibly swallowed.

  “Would you like to come in?”

  “Well, I guess not. If you two are just going to turn around and head for the canyon, I guess you don’t need me.”

  Bobby stared into that megahandsome face. What the hell are you doing? “Rain check, then?”

  “Yes, I guess so.”

  Bobby packed every ounce of gratitude he possessed into his smile. “Thank you for such a lovely evening. I’m truly grateful.”

  Paolo leaned in, and Bobby met him. Their lips touched and held. Paolo wrapped his arms tight around Bobby, and his hot tongue dove deep. Not a move Bobby usually minded at all, but right now—too distracted.

  Paolo moved back and cocked his head. “I think our evening’s already over.”

  “I’m so sorry.” That was fucking true. “I can’t believe I did this to myself. I better go check on Robin and get moving.”

  Paolo touched Bobby’s neck, dropped another fast, hot kiss on his mouth, and nodded. “I know what it’s like to be distracted by business. You’re forgiven. Let’s plan better next time.”

  “Yes.” Did his smile look as phony as his story?

  Paolo turned abruptly and trotted down the steps without a backward glance.

  Whew, not one to linger over goodbyes.

  Chapter Seventeen

  BOBBY PUSHED inside the apartment and flipped on the lights. He’d known from the deadbolt lock that Robin wasn’t there, but Paolo hadn’t. Why didn’t I tell him? Why did I lie? Why did I make up a story?

  He walked into his room, turned up the softest lights, flipped on the music, and started peeling clothes. His stomach clenched and a jaw muscle jumped. Not good signs. Why am I so upset that Robin’s not home?

  He carefully hung his clothes—because it took more than a personal crisis to make Bobby neglect his wardrobe—and then slid on a robe and collapsed on his bed. Maybe a hot bath?

  Was he or was he not going to answer his own questions? He’d told Robin and himself that he wanted to quit screwing around and have a relationship. Here comes Paolo Lind—gorgeous, well-off, successful, sexy as a cover of Men’s Health—and Bobby, the guy willing to have sex on a pool table after a fifteen-minute acquaintance, couldn’t even take the time to get the guy off. “And he gave up his boyfriend for me!” He flipped over and buried his face in his pillow. “I’m sick. I must not think I deserve a real relationship, so I’m sabotaging it.”

  A tap on the door made him leap up to sitting and run a hand through his hair. “Hi, dear. Come on in.”

  Robin peeked in the door. “Who are you talking to? I didn’t see Paolo’s car.”

  “Oh, it was my phone. A message. No, Paolo remembered something he forgot to do and ran off.”

  “Oh.” Robin got an unreadable expression, then frowned. “That’s too bad.”

  “No, it was okay. I don’t want to get sexy on a first date anyway, right? New leaf and all that? He said he’d plan better next time.”

  “Oh right. Next time. So did you have fun?”

  “Yes, it was great. Actually, I thought having dinner with you two added to the evening. Who could have guessed that Paolo and Micah would know each other?”

  “Yeah. At first I wasn’t too hot on the idea, but I had fun too.”

  “High praise from you, dear.”

  “I guess so.”

  Bobby climbed off the bed and walked to his dressing table to brush his hair. Are you seriously not going to tell Robin what you did to Paolo? “So did you and Micah go dancing or something?”

  “No, we stopped at his place for drinks.”

  “Oh.”

  “He lives in South Laguna. A really great place that he’s modernizing.”

  “Oh.”

  “So do you want to watch an old movie before we turn in?�
�

  “Sure. Give me a minute.”

  “Okay, I’ll pick something fun.”

  Bobby watched his beautiful brother sashay from the room twitching his cute butt—the butt that had enjoyed sex with Micah Brown. Wonder why he didn’t stay the night?

  He’d just answered his earlier question. Under no circumstances was he telling Robin how he’d screwed the pooch with Paolo Lind.

  ROBIN PULLED himself up over the edge of the scaffold and sat cross-legged on the wooden floor. Escaped. He’d escaped even earlier than usual to get away from his own apartment. Shit, that was a first, and he hated it. When had he ever not told Bobby everything? But if he confessed that he and Micah were just friends, would Bobby worry that he’d chosen the wrong guy? Hell, he had his pick, but he did look at Micah with special warmth—or maybe that was just Robin’s imagination. Still, who wouldn’t choose Paolo? But Bobby had trouble making up his mind on everything.

  He sighed and sipped some coffee he’d hauled up in a plastic container attached to his belt. Do I even want to examine that little itch under all the worry over Bobby? That tiny crack in his heart that said guys always liked Bobby best and even though that made him happy, it also made him sad. Especially when the guy was Paolo Lind.

  Yes, the bastard’s an obnoxious, angry guy with expedient values—but so am I. And he made a point of apologizing and saying he liked me.

  Yeah, but not as much as he likes Bobby.

  Robin slugged down the coffee, twisted the cap on the container, and stood. Get to work. If he could get the mural done, then he’d only have to worry about seeing Paolo when he came to get Bobby for dates.

  He uncovered the paints he’d left on his huge palette. Plastic kept them wet so they could be used a second day.

  Funny how he hadn’t minded pretending to be Bobby all that much. The world looked different when people expected him to be nice.

  Clearing his mind, he faced the wall and began to paint.

  A second later—maybe more like an hour—the scaffold began to shake. Okay, get ready to be your brother.

  Paolo’s perfect face popped over the top, and he gave Robin a half smile that reminded him of himself. Robin plastered on the huge, pearly Bobby face. “Hiiiii!”