by Tinnean
Well, he had two out of three correct. Oddly enough, I hadn’t been thinking of myself as free. “And it doesn’t bother you that he’s getting in touch after more than twenty years—”
“Twenty-two years, four months, three days, and some odd hours.”
Ah. I blew out a breath of relief. If he knew almost to the minute how long it had been since I’d last seen Armand, then I was safe in assuming Mark wouldn’t be pleased if I met with him again.
“If someone from your past wrote you out of the blue, Mark, someone with whom you’d had a very close relationship, I think I’d be inclined to feel a tad threatened.”
“I don’t feel threatened, Mann.”
“No?” I smiled at him and stroked his cheek.
“Quinn—”
“Go ahead and read it.” I turned back to the answering machine.
Cara Mia was saying, “Your uncle was always wonderful to my dad, and I remembered him so fondly from when I was a girl. I thought at first it was just Tony, but I’ve since learned it’s all you Sebrings. It’s so gracious of you to go out of your way for me and my daughter, and I’m so sorry things didn’t work out between Tony and me.” She gave a rueful laugh. “When I was growing up, I wanted to have the perfect marriage and three children. It looks like I got it backward. I have the perfect child and…. Well, Tony will tell you about it when he sees you on New Year’s Eve. Thank you, Quinn. Thank you more than I can say. Happy New Year.”
Her call had been made the day after Christmas, when Mark and I had been flying to Costa Rica.
The next messages were from friends and colleagues calling to wish me happy holidays. Interspersed with cheery greetings and promises to get together after the New Year were additional silent calls.
“That’s odd. Do you think that might be Senator Wexler, trying to intimidate me?”
“I think Wexler is too busy recovering from another bout of the flu.”
“Another? I hadn’t heard.”
“No reason why you should. He’s yesterday’s news, and I’ll bet that’s burning his butt!” Mark held out the letter to me. “The calls are probably from Bauchet. He says in his letter he wants to talk to you before the New Year.” He checked his watch. “Don’t think he’s gonna make it. Are you done listening to your messages?”
“No. You distracted me, and I missed the last one.”
“Well, hurry it up! I’m sweaty, and I want to have a glass of wine and a shower.” He murmured something under his breath, then added, “And not in any particular order.”
I stopped the machine, hit play again, and skipped over the messages until I finally reached the one I hadn’t heard yet.
“Hey, Quinn.” It was DB. “Mrs. Mann told me you’d be away until New Year’s Eve—” Of course Mother had somehow learned of that. “—but aren’t you home yet? I hope you’ve had a great week, you bad boy, you!”
“Mann?” Mark was listening unashamedly.
“DB thinks I’ve been seeing a woman.”
“Ah. So he thinks you spent the past week doing the nasty.”
“What we’ve been doing hardly deserves to be called that….” I smiled at him. “… since sex with you is always better than with anyone else.”
Mark looked stunned. Did he think I couldn’t admit to something like that?
Meanwhile, DB’s voice was enthusing on. “… and I had the most fantastic Christmas! My ladies came by and made me dinner. Okay, so they had it catered by At Your Service, but it’s the thought that counts. Anyway, they loved the lingerie I picked out for them, and you won’t believe what they had for me! I’ll tell you about it next time I see you. Anyway, I’m not calling to gloat.”
“Aren’t you, DB?” I couldn’t help laughing.
“I want to thank you for the Super Bowl tickets.” He was serious now. “That’s more than I ever expected. The Raiders are my favorite team, and those seats are awesome! It’s gonna be so amazing to actually be in San Diego and watch them beat the Bucs. You’re the best friend, Quinn!”
I’d actually gotten the idea from Mark, who’d mentioned he was getting basketball tickets to a Lakers/Kings game on January 16 for a couple of friends for Christmas. DB wasn’t a big basketball fan, but he loved football.
“I… uh… I hope you liked my gift,” he was saying. “Mrs. Mann told me that saddle was what you’d asked Santa for.”
Mark had been curious about the big box with the holly and ivy wrapping paper, and he’d scowled when I told him it was from DB. His expression had lightened when I’d added “…and ladies,” but he pretended interest in the tree we were about to put up. I’d never had anyone green-eyed over me, and I found it… gratifying.
“Well, it’s getting late, and my ladies will be here soon, so I’d better go. Happy New Year, Quinn. And thanks again.” Muffled laughter came over the phone. “See you next year.” And then he hung up.
I chuckled myself. It would be 2003 by the time I saw him again on Thursday.
“Is that the last of them?”
“Yes, Mark. Give me your overcoat.” I faced him squarely. “I want you in my bed.”
The tension around his eyes eased. “We’re not going to have time.” Had he been jealous? Once I wouldn’t have thought that Mark Vincent was the sort of man to feel an emotion like that, but now….
“No? Have I worn you out?” I hung up his coat next to mine. “Pity.”
“That’ll be the day!” He grabbed my wrist and pulled me along after him through the house, up the stairs, and into my bedroom.
He couldn’t see my smile. We might not have time for a romp in bed, but that didn’t preclude a grope in the shower.
VI
I STOOD in the shower, rubbing a bar of soap over my torso and under my arm, humming absently under my breath.
“Pass the soap.”
“Of course, Mark.” My hands were filled with soap suds, so I didn’t really need it just then. I bent slightly to lather my thigh, and suddenly found myself pushed up against the tiled wall. “Mark?”
“Shh.”
I smiled. We’d had sex in the shower on other occasions, including once on his island. I’d gotten splinters in my back from the enclosure Manuel’s father had made, and that was why we’d only done it once there. Mark had been furious and had carefully picked out each sliver of bamboo, swearing all the time.
It had been worth the discomfort.
Now I braced my legs apart, folded my arms against the cool tiles, and rested my cheek on them. He trailed his lips over the base of my spine, then went lower, nipping and sucking, and I shivered with pleasure.
“I don’t want you touching yourself.”
“What…?”
His fingers parted my ass cheeks and a warm, moist breath of air tickled my hole, and whatever I was going to ask went flying out of my mind as, for the first time, his tongue stroked across my puckered opening.
I groaned and thrust back against his face. At another time, with another lover, I would have restrained my actions, would have bit back my uninhibited moans, but Mark didn’t give me that option. Broad palms held me open, and he licked and stabbed and penetrated. He hurled me into the maelstrom of sensation, and I was lost in the glory and wonder of it.
“I’m… Mark, I’m going to….”
“I know, Quinn. I’ll bet that fat French fuck never made you feel like this!”
Before I could respond one way or another, he turned me around and slid his arms under my thighs, not only raising me but opening me, and when he plunged into me, I completely forgot what I was going to say.
Instead, I wrapped my legs around this waist and held on.
“I’ve got you.” He cupped my face in his hands and tipped it up. His eyes were like a raptor’s, wild and fierce, and he muttered something that sounded like, “You’re mine!” But between the pounding of the water and the thundering of my heart, I couldn’t be certain. I did hear it when he said, “Come for me.”
And I shivered and
exploded and covered both our torsos with semen.
Two more thrusts, and he shuddered and stilled.
“Mark.” I sighed and brought his mouth to mine.
He started to turn his face away. “You don’t want to—”
I shut him up with my mouth, and after a moment, he relaxed into the kiss.
Finally I broke the kiss. “We’re going to be so late.”
“Doesn’t matter.” He leaned his forehead against mine. “Giovanni will hold our table.”
“If you say so, Mark. Still, there’s no reason to keep him waiting longer than necessary.”
“Sure.” He caught his cock as it slipped free, keeping the condom from spilling its contents, and eased my legs down. “Are you okay?”
“Of course.” My hips were protesting a bit, but I wasn’t about to put a damper on things by mentioning it.
He stripped off the condom and tied it, then tossed it over the door.
Trust Mark Vincent to always be prepared.
VII
ALTHOUGH Mark had made reservations for an early dinner—it would take us more than three and a half hours to drive to Shadow Brook—the restaurant was already crowded, and a line of people were waiting to be seated.
We were greeted as usual by Giovanni, the maître d’. “Buona sera, signori. It is good to see you again.”
“Buona sera.”
“Doesn’t this guy ever take a night off?” Mark muttered in my ear.
I laughed softly and whispered, “Pot, meet kettle.”
“Your table is waiting. Buon appetito, signori.”
“Grazie.”
Cesare, our waiter, led us to our table in the alcove. He snapped open our napkins, placed them over our laps, and then hurried off.
There were no menus, which was unusual.
I raised an eyebrow. My lover didn’t notice, however, since he was busy tracking our fellow diners.
“Mark?”
“Yeah?”
“There aren’t any menus.”
“Not necessary. I ordered when I made the reservations.” He turned his attention to me, his eyes glinting.
“Really. What are we having?”
“Something I hope you’ll enjoy. Chateaubriand for two with lobster tails, Chateau potatoes, Béarnaise sauce.”
“That sounds delicious. I think I can safely say I’ll enjoy it.”
“Sì, signore.” Cesare had returned and stood there grinning, two plates in hand. He put one before me. “And to start, we have ravioli stuffed with eggplant, red pepper, and mozzarella.” He put the second plate before Mark. “It is covered with a creamy vodka sauce made with tomatoes, crushed peppers, and shallots, and topped with fire-roasted eggplant and roasted red peppers.”
“Well, this is certainly a worthy start to a New Year’s Eve dinner. Thank you, Cesare.”
The wine steward brought a bottle of sauvignon blanc and held it up.
Mark nodded toward me. “He’s the expert.”
The white wine was poured into my glass. I took a sip and swirled it in my mouth. An excellent vintage, and I nodded and held my glass out for more.
Mark’s glass was filled as well, and then the wine steward placed the bottle at my elbow and went off to see to the other patrons.
VIII
THE appetizer was followed by Asian pear and grapefruit salad with sake granite and pear sorbet, and then our entrees were brought out.
Mark began to talk about the fish that had gotten away from him. We’d taken Varlebena out past the breakwater and cast our lines. I didn’t know what we would have done if we’d actually caught a fish, since my talents didn’t run to cleaning and scaling them, but I had no doubt my lover would be able to handle it.
“That tarpon had to be a monster!”
I smiled up at him through my lashes. “Was it even a tarpon?” I knew it had been big—it had snapped his line, but I had such fun teasing him, letting him think I doubted him.
“No, I’m telling you, Quinn—”
“Of course.”
He glared at me, but his eyes were laughing. I enjoyed seeing this side of him. Too often all that was visible was the cold, contained senior special agent.
“More wine?”
He shook his head. “I’ll be driving later, so I’d better stop now. I want to keep a clear head.”
“That hardly seems fair. Especially on New Year’s Eve.” I wasn’t going to push him, though. From the little he’d said, and from my own background check of him, I’d learned his mother had had a problem with alcohol. I knew him well enough by now to know he worried about that possibility for himself, which was one of the reasons why he monitored his intake so rigorously.
“Are you kidding? It’ll be perfect! I’ll be able to have my wicked way with you!”
“Really, Mark!” It was fortunate my napkin was in my lap. It concealed my sudden erection.
“Yes, really. This afternoon hardly took the edge off.”
My cock strained against my zipper. How was it that he could so easily do this to me?
“That’s really not fair!”
He tipped his head to one side. “I could take off my shoe and massage your….” His gaze dipped, then rose, and he licked his lips.
“Thank you, no. The last thing I need is my tuxedo smelling of sex!” My voice was strained and my face felt hot.
“Want to visit the men’s room?”
“No! If I tried to stand, it would be obvious that I’m about to come! Behave!”
“Okay, Quinn. It’s the least I can do.”
And I didn’t know whether to be relieved or not.
Mark resumed talking about the one that got away, and gradually my arousal subsided.
IX
HE WAS telling me another fish story, this one about a fish he’d found stranded in the shallows, which he’d taken home to live in his basement and taught to breathe air, when,
“Vince!”
I realized it was my lover being addressed, and I looked up from the last bite of my lobster tail with interest.
In the blink of an eye, that cold, contained man was back. And just as quickly, he was gone.
“Happy New Year!” The man pausing at our table was younger than either of us, in his late twenties, I judged, and I recognized him, although I’d never seen him in person.
I’d had to do a bit of investigating when I learned one of my people had been seen with a male escort. If it had been Syd or Lyn, it wouldn’t have caused much concern, but since it was a male officer, I needed to be sure he wasn’t setting himself up to be blackmailed. When it turned out that the escort, known in the trade as “Sweetcheeks,” was not only well thought of, but knew how to keep his mouth shut, I dropped the investigation, although I kept an eye on my officer. Another lapse in judgment could very well prove fatal, not only for him but for the men who worked with him.
A few months later, however, he’d left the Company when an elderly relative passed away and left him a good deal of money.
I glanced from the escort to my lover. I didn’t suppose I was surprised that Mark would know a male escort, although I was surprised that he’d pay for sex. He’d never struck me as the kind of man who would do that.
The escort turned to address his companion, who I also recognized, having seen him a time or two when Mark had still lived in that attic apartment in DC.
“Wills, it’s Vince!” The young man was bubbling over with high spirits, which struck me as odd for someone in his profession, but perhaps he’d started celebrating the holiday early. “I didn’t expect to see you here tonight. Usually you’re working on holidays.”
Mark didn’t respond to that, just stood and shook their hands. “Bascopolis. Matheson.”
“Mr. Vincent.” It seemed this was a night of surprises. Matheson was obviously taken aback to see me with his superior in a public place—had he thought I was Mark’s dirty little secret?—although after the first widening of his eyes, he concealed it very well. “Happ
y New Year, sir.”
“Yeah. You too.” This was the first time that we’d ever met anyone Mark knew in a social setting, and his reaction to them was… disconcerting. “Uh… Quinn, this is my former landlord, Theo Bascopolis.”
Ah. So that was how he knew the escort. Oddly enough, I was relieved. I rose also.
“You’ve met Matheson.”
“Yes.” I offered my hand first to Bascopolis. “It’s nice to meet you.”
“Same here.” Bascopolis shook my hand, looking curious. “Are you a colleague of Vince’s?”
I took a page from Mark’s book and didn’t answer. Instead, I addressed Mark’s colleague. “Matheson. It’s nice to see you again.”
“Mr. Mann.” His expression was closed, and he looked older. “We won’t keep you from your dinner, Mr. Vincent.”
“Thanks.”
Apparently Bascopolis wasn’t ready to leave yet. “But—”
“Theo, our waiter is… uh… waiting.” It was obvious Matheson didn’t want to linger. There was tension in his eyes when they met mine, but he simply gave a polite nod and then turned to Mark. “Happy New Year, sir.”
They followed their waiter to a table some distance from ours, Mark watching them the entire way, his eyes brooding.
“Interesting friends you have, Mark.”
“You know what the kicker is, Quinn? I like them both. I wouldn’t want to….” His words trailed off. He picked up a roll and began tearing it apart, his eyes never leaving the corner of the room where the two men were seated.
“Well, dinner is getting cold,” I said a shade too heartily, scrambling for something to say. “Let’s finish, shall we? I’m looking forward to the tiramisu. I have such fond memories of it.” Even if that wasn’t what we were going to have, I hoped the reference to our first dinner together would… if not make him smile, then at least get a rise from him.
I got neither. I decided to take another tack.
“Mark?”
“Yeah?”
“What happened to the fish?”
“What fish?”