Chapter Ten

 

 

OVER the following two months, Marcus almost managed to avoid seeing Tom altogether. Truth be told, Tom laying his emotions on the line had unsettled Marcus. Of course he had always found Tom attractive—a lot of people knew that, even Raine—but as his best friend’s husband, the man had always been comfortingly off-limits. Forbidden fruit, so to speak. Yes, he’d had molten private fantasies about the unobtainable husband, but for some reason hearing that Tom had been having carnal thoughts about him had not only thrown him for a loop but frightened the bejesus out of him. What the hell was that all about?

Over time, the distance Tom asked for had worked both ways, and Marcus made a point of sticking tightly to schedules. Occasionally he and Tom would pass each other as one took responsibility for the girls from the other, but then they only had time to share a curt nod or a brief pleasantry. Without Marcus asking or even wanting to know, Moira or the girls kept Marcus updated on Tom’s dating progress. In an ideal world, that should have made Marcus feel better, maybe even have given him an incentive to get out there himself. But he didn’t live in an ideal world. Far from it. Even so, eventually Marcus turned off the green-eyed monster in his head taunting him with the notion that Tom was out there somewhere with his arm around some random woman.

One consequence of the arrangement was that Marcus had his Sundays back, no more family outings, and could lie in or do whatever he wanted—which was usually nothing. Or worse still, spend time at home stewing over his predicament. At least this week he would have the distraction of a business trip to Birmingham with Tina to sign the lease and get the fit-out started on his new restaurant.

This particular Sunday, however, the special complimentary hotel brunch with Daniel had finally come around. Marcus arrived early and had the pleasure of watching his handsome friend saunter in smiling, turning heads as he descended the three shallow stairs to the reception lectern. He’d chosen to wear a navy suit with an open-necked pale blue shirt. That together with his mop of blond hair made him look more the movie star than ever. After chatting to a clearly smitten waitress, he was led over to Marcus’s table.

Barely an hour into the brunch, after they had covered the usual pleasantries and had brought the other up-to-date on their recent career dramas, Daniel put down his fork. Decisively.

“Okay. What’s going on with you? If that cloud over your head gets any bigger, I’m getting the waiter to bring over an umbrella.”

Although nothing was ever going to happen between them, Daniel had become a firm friend. With him, of all people, Marcus could open up and be himself. For a fleeting moment he thought about telling him the source of his moodiness, but then relented because he felt that wouldn’t be fair to Tom. As the thoughts passed through him, Daniel eyed him coolly.

“Let me guess. It has something to do with Tom Bradford?”

Marcus put down his champagne glass and stared at Daniel in disbelief. “How the hell could you possibly know that?”

“Pretty bloody obvious. And I’m guessing that after you tried to restore his trust in his wife’s faithfulness with that picture of Stone and his partner, he either didn’t believe you or didn’t take it so well?”

“I haven’t even had the opportunity to tell him yet.”

“Why? What has he done?”

Somewhat dramatically, Marcus threw himself back in his seat and let out a big sigh, staring at the huge crystal chandelier above their table, hoping for a Phantom of the Opera moment. “He told me he had feelings for me. Ever since I came back from New York. Told me he wanted to take me upstairs and fuck me senseless.”

“I see.”

Marcus lowered his gaze to meet Daniel’s. “You don’t sound surprised?”

“You two have been spending a lot of time together. So what did you do?”

“What do you mean, what did I do? I ran a bloody mile, of course.”

Daniel laughed before taking a sip of champagne. “Congratulations, Mr. Vine. You’ve managed a conversion.”

“Not funny, Dan. In fact, it’s killing me. What am I supposed to do with that?”

“The million-dollar question.”

“I’ve told you what I’m usually like. Everyone’s fair game. Dare me enough and I’d take that waiter over there into the toilets right now and blow him,” said Marcus, nodding at a young man serving a family of four.

“Heavens, you’re making me feel really special today.”

“But the thought of doing anything with Tom…. Well. I can’t even bring myself to think about it.”

“What? You don’t fancy him?”

“Of course I bloody fancy him.”

“Then I don’t see what the problem is.”

“That is the problem. He’s as good as family, Dan. And not only was he horrified about having had those thoughts, he’s fundamentally straight.”

“Well, clearly that’s not the case. Sounds like he might swing both ways.”

“And, more to the point, I told him I’d back off. So that he could get out there in the real world and meet some of the fairer sex.”

“Very noble of you. And has he?”

“Don’t want to think about it.”

This time Daniel let out a deep sigh. “I didn’t realize quite how fucked-up you are, Vine,” he said, getting up from the table to deliver his lecture. “Look, if he’s bi, and he’s out there trying other women on for size, then chances are he’ll either put himself back on the straight and narrow—good expression, that—or if he really can’t live without you, you’ll have to play the waiting game, give him time to come around. In the meantime, you’re just going to have to man up and get on with your life. I’m going to get some more lobster. You need anything?”

“Yeah, a lobotomy, apparently.”

“Want a side of Thousand Island with that?”

“Ha-bloody-ha.”

While Daniel headed off, Marcus thought about what his friend had said. Yes, he needed to get this stupid notion out of his head and get on with his life. Maybe he could ask Moira and the girls to stop giving him updates on Tom’s dating life. Given enough time, he’d be able to cool off and get a grip.

The Blue Royal Hotel had a strict policy about phones being switched to silent during their sumptuous Sunday brunch session, but Marcus had purposely put his on vibrate in case any of his staff needed to contact him. Just as Daniel sat back down, Marcus’s phone buzzed. He turned the display over to see the name Moira fill the screen.

“You got to be fucking kidding me.”

“What is it?”

“Tom’s mother.”

“Ignore it.”

Marcus stared shocked at Daniel as though he had committed treason.

“I can’t. I would never forgive myself if something had happened,” he said, thumbing the Call button. “Hi, Moira. Is everything okay?”

“Everything’s fine. Well, a slight glitch. And a huge favor to ask, I’m afraid. Are you busy this afternoon?”

Marcus peered over the phone at Daniel, who sipped from his champagne flute, assessing the flower arrangement on the table, pretending not to eavesdrop.

“Why? What’s happened?” answered Marcus, shrugging and throwing Daniel a world-weary glance.

“I’m babysitting the girls right now. Tom has a second date with this Jeanette woman he met at the cricket club, and they’re watching the new Reyna Lockwood film at the cinema this afternoon. She’s invited him back to her place afterward for dinner. Apparently she’s quite something in the kitchen.”

“Is she now?” said Marcus, trying not to sound bitter.

“You know what I mean. She’s not a maestro chef like you, Marcus, but—”

“No need to explain, Moira. I do understand—”

“The thing is, we need to give her a chance. Give them both a chance. She might be the one who helps Tom build the family back together again—”

“Moira, what did you want?”

“Oh, yes, sorry. Look, John’s complaining about a nagging pain in his leg,” she said, causing Marcus to smirk at a comment Tom had once made about his father’s nagging pain in the arse: Moira. “And I don’t want to take any chances, so I’m going to drive him down to A&E at St. Mary’s. But you know how long it can take waiting to see someone. And if I bring the girls along, I just know they’ll be bored to tears and start climbing the walls within minutes. But I can’t leave them here by themselves. Tom would come straight home if I called, but I don’t want to spoil his special day. So I wondered if—”

“Give me half an hour.”

When Marcus saw Daniel’s resigned expression, he almost relented. Instead, he pulled the phone away from his ear and mouthed the words family emergency.

“Oh, Marcus, you are a dear” came Moira’s voice as Daniel nodded. “If you could pick them up and take them home to their place, I should be back by nine at the very latest.”

“Have they had their tea?”

“No, but I can do that when I get there—”

“Don’t be daft. If they’ve been running around your back garden all day, they’ll be fast asleep by nine. Don’t worry, I’ll fix tea for them and make sure they both have baths before bedtime. And I’ll get their pack lunches ready for school tomorrow morning. If Katie has her pencil case with her, can you make sure she brings it home? She needs her ruler and pencils for her numbers lesson tomorrow. If you can get them both ready now, I’ll pick them up from the front door.”

“You are an angel. See you soon.”

Even though he was still smiling, Daniel shook his head. “That family owns you. So today’s your turn to beat a retreat. One of these days we’ll manage to spend a whole meal together.”

“You’re more than welcome to join me. If you want?”

“Kids, potties, and baths? I’ll pass, thanks. Bit too much reality for me,” said Daniel, reaching in his pocket for a slip of paper. “And before I forget, you might want to give this number a ring sometime. One of the numbers Ken Villers gave us came up trumps.”

 

 

BY eight thirty, Marcus had finally managed to get Katie off to sleep when he heard the soft thump of the front door closing. Tom had once complained that his mother had a habit of heading straight for the living room and flicking on the television, which might wake Katie, the lighter sleeper of the two. So after checking on both girls—Charlotte’s bedclothes already a mess from her sleep fidgeting—he crept out the door and tiptoed in socked feet down the bedroom stairs. Fortunately, in the small two-up two-down house, carpeted throughout, he could do that quickly and almost silently. But when he reached the second-to-bottom stair and looked toward the door, the figure standing there was not who he had expected.

“Tom?” he said quizzically in a hushed whisper.

Tom stood frozen just inside the door, and even without asking, Marcus could tell something was up. In hugging 501s and the off-white Paul Smith silk shirt Marcus had bought him for Christmas, the top two buttons open, he looked good enough to eat. But the salacious compliment Marcus had been about to let fly froze on his lips. Marcus had lost that right.

“Just managed to get the girls off to sleep,” said Marcus, nodding back up the stairs before forcing a quick smile. “I thought Moira was going to come back tonight. Told me you were busy romancing Jeanette.”

Marcus had meant to lighten Tom’s mood with the words, but they seemed to have the opposite effect. Instead of smiling, Tom scowled and shook his head briefly before looking away.

“Mum texted, but I couldn’t call during the film. Phoned and told her I’d come back, even though she tried to insist. She has enough on her plate looking after Dad.”

“Is he okay? John? I worry about him sometimes. Especially being pushed around every day by that old woman you call your mother.”

“He’s fine,” said Tom, this time a small smile lightening one side of his mouth as he returned his gaze to Marcus. “Just the bloody arthritis playing up. They’re back home now.”

Marcus took the brief pause between them to step down into the living room and stand facing Tom. At almost the same moment, Tom tossed his keys onto the hall table and then stepped farther into the room, coming to an abrupt halt.

“Hey. Looking sharp, Mr. Vine,” said Tom, his gaze traveling up and down Marcus’s body, sending an electric ripple through him. “Were you on a date of your own? Oh shit, tell me we didn’t scupper your afternoon?”

Marcus couldn’t help the laughter that burst from him. So much for straight men not giving other men compliments. Perhaps Tom had mellowed. Or probably he’d had a few beers over lunch.

“Don’t worry about it. More of a boozy brunch with a friend. Catching up on life. How about Jeanette? Was she okay ending the night early?” said Marcus, relaxing a little. “If it’d been me with you dressed to kill like that, I’d have had you handcuffed to the bedposts by now.”

As soon as the smart-mouth comment left his lips, Marcus held his breath. But despite a slight darkening of the cheeks, Tom’s smile broadened into a chuckle. Yes, the man had definitely chilled. “She was a little disappointed. But she has a six-year-old boy. So she knows the deal of single parenthood.”

“And how was it? You know…?”

“Fine. Everything was fine. Not really my kind of thing, but entertaining enough, I suppose. Jeanette seemed to enjoy it, anyway.”

Wow, thought Marcus, there’s a ringing endorsement. Tom’s words came out so flat that Marcus wondered for a second if something had happened. Only then did Marcus realize that Tom was avoiding eye contact again. A silence fell between the two, something both must have noticed, because when they spoke, they did so at the same time.

“Are you okay?” asked Marcus.

“Look, I wanted—” said Tom, before answering Marcus. “I’m fine.”

“You don’t seem okay.”

Another huge sigh shuddered through Tom before he responded. “I’m sick of people scrambling around trying to pair me off. I know they’re trying to be kind, trying to help me move on. But I really am fine as I am. Everything’s going well and I have everything I need. I really do. It dawned on me while I was sitting there watching that bloody awful film. I have all the women I need in my life, my mother and those little angels sleeping upstairs. And if I want grown-up conversation or advice, I have you and Dad.”

“Hold on, Tom. You were the one who asked for time out to go and date. What are you saying now? You’ve given up?”

“Nobody’s ever going to replace Raine, Marcus.”

“No, of course not. Nobody is ever meant to. People just want you to be happy again, maybe not in the same way, but at least have someone to share things with.”

“And that’s what I’m trying to say—” began Tom, but then they heard a soft voice calling “Daddy” from upstairs.

“Shit,” said Tom. “I’m sorry. My fault.”

“It’s fine. You want me to go up?”

“No, let me. Give me a chance to say good night.”

Ten minutes later Marcus heard Tom’s soft footfalls on the stairs.

“You want a beer?” said Marcus, twisting around and yanking open the fridge door as Tom hit the bottom step. “Got a couple of cold ones in here.”

“Actually, another reason I came back is because—” said Tom, hesitating momentarily before going on. “Because I wanted a chat with you.”

“Oh, shit,” Marcus hissed, two bottles of Asahi in one hand, and quietly closed the fridge door shut, his face falling. “What have I done now?”

Tom appeared genuinely mystified. “Sorry?” he said, taken aback. “What do you mean?”

“Whenever you want to chat with me, it usually means you’re either going to tell me to fuck off or back off.”

“No, I—” said Tom, his eyebrows scrunched up in confusion, before he deflated with a sigh and gently shook his head. “Is that what you think? Hell, have I really been that much of a dick? After everything you’ve done for us, for me?”

“You’re not a dick, Tom. But you can be bloody stubborn at times. Beer?”

Tom ambled over and took the proffered beer bottle, twisted the lid, and took a long draft. Afterward, visibly relaxing, he perched on the barstool. Marcus went and joined him, leaving a sizable distance between them.

“What I meant was, I don’t get to hang out with you anymore. And I know that’s what I asked for, but in all honesty, I miss it, I miss our little chats.”

“Yes, well, whose fault is that?”

“I know, I know. I already claimed the dick card, remember?”

Marcus relaxed too, then leaned forward to clink the neck of his bottle with Tom’s. “Well, if it’s any consolation, Tom, I miss our grown-up time together too.”

And it suddenly dawned on Marcus how much he really had missed just chatting to Tom. If only he could master his infatuation. Maybe now would be a good time to win some points in the friends stakes, tell Tom about Damian Stone, tell him what they had found out. But while the thoughts swirled around in his head, Tom had started talking.

“I really do like that shirt on you, Marcus. Is it cotton?”

“Egyptian cotton,” said Marcus absently.

“Looks comfortable. Mind if I…?” Tom held a hand out as if waiting for permission to touch the material.

“Sure. Knock yourself out.”

Tom reached across the distance and pinched the material beneath Marcus’s collar between his thumb and forefinger.

“This Indian tailor round the back of Edgware Road makes them for me. Has done for a couple of years. If you want, I can—”

When Marcus raised his eyes to meet Tom’s, all thoughts left him, the dark heat in that gaze blistering. A sudden memory came back, of Tom sitting on the garden rug, staring angrily at him. Except it had not been anger at all but lust. Instinctively he inhaled a deep breath as Tom fisted the shirt and pulled Marcus out of his chair toward him. Even as Tom brought their mouths together, Marcus hesitated, fully expecting him to recoil, to reevaluate in disgust what he had initiated. But the moment never came. Closemouthed lips pressed onto Marcus’s own—firm, urgent, yet still a little unsure. And then, a second later, the essence of Tom Bradford hit Marcus hard, spicy aftershave mixed with Tom’s natural body scent and heat, so masculine, intoxicating and addictive. Instinctively Marcus’s arms found their way around Tom’s neck and he stepped into the man’s body, molding himself into the embrace. When he pushed his tongue between Tom’s lips, forcing them to part, Marcus took control of the kiss, touching, stroking, exploring, snaking his own tongue around Tom’s. In response, Tom shuddered and released a deep moan, before lifting Marcus off the floor and walking him backward until he had him pinned up against the fridge door. Breathless, Marcus pulled his mouth away.

“Well. That’s one mystery solved,” whispered Tom as he lowered Marcus back to earth, his lips tickling Marcus’s ear.

“What do you mean?”

“I wondered if my attraction to you was all in my head” came Tom’s husky voice before he thrust his substantial rock-hard groin into Marcus’s own arousal. “Apparently not.”

Once again Tom sought out Marcus’s mouth, more emboldened and self-assured. This time, however, Tom smoothed his palms around Marcus’s back, grasping his backside, while he moved his mouth along the line of Marcus’s jaw, nipping slowly as he went. Marcus took the opportunity to lift out Tom’s shirttails and push his hands up into Tom’s chest. Firm, hot stomach muscles gave way to solid pectorals with aroused nipples. When Tom gasped, Marcus almost came where he stood.

“Stay the night,” Tom whispered urgently.

“Tom, I can’t. We—it wouldn’t be right.”

“Shit,” said Tom, dropping his head on Marcus’s shoulder and releasing his hold. “I’ve misread things, haven’t I?”

“What? No!” said Marcus, pulling Tom’s head back and kissing him deeply. Once he felt Tom’s arms around him again, sensed him relax a little, Marcus brought their gazes together. “Tom, there is nothing in the world I would like more than to spend the night with you. And believe me, if it were only the two of us in the house right now, I’d be ripping your clothes off.”

Still confused, Tom followed Marcus’s gaze to the rising stairwell. With a soft sigh and a shake of the head, comprehension dawned on him like an avalanche. “You see? This is why I need you around. My common sense guru.”

“Wouldn’t be fair on the girls. In case they woke during the night.”

But the idea had lodged firmly in Tom’s head, and he was not letting up. “How about tomorrow? Monday’s your day off, and I’m sure I can get a few hours away in the afternoon—”

“I’m in Birmingham until Thursday afternoon, remember? And you’ve got the girls Thursday night. Friday night you’re seeing Brenner and his chums for the UEFA game on the big screen down the Castle. And then Saturday—”

“Fuck Brenner and his chums.”

“I’d rather not, if that’s all right by you.”

But Tom’s gaze shone hotly, and he didn’t even acknowledge the quip. “Friday night. I’ll ask Mum if the girls can stop over. We’ve got the barbecue in their back garden the next day. Please tell me you’re free.”

Marcus beamed at the eagerness of Tom’s plea. Friday nights remained the busiest night of the week in both restaurants. He’d purposely planned to be back in London on Thursday so that he could be in the kitchen on Friday. But as a precaution, he had also asked both chefs to make arrangements for Friday and Saturday nights in case the deal in Birmingham dragged on. And this was not an opportunity he wanted to pass up.

“I’ll make sure I am. But not here, Tom. Come to my place. I’ll cook a TV dinner. And after we’ve watched the game on my hundred-inch flat-screen, I will lead you to my bedroom and teach you some of the ways of the dark side. As long as you promise to stay the night. How does that sound?”

Instead of replying, Tom lowered his grinning lips again onto Marcus’s but kissed less urgently this time, his tongue gently exploring Marcus’s mouth, his body still crushing rhythmically against Marcus, causing bottles to clink softly in the fridge behind him. Then Tom transferred his attention to Marcus’s ears, and his hungry mouth started flicking hotly around his left lobe and then nipping gently at his neck. Just as Marcus had made up his mind that he would give Tom the best blow job of his life, a voice sounded faintly from abovestairs again.

“Daddy.”

“You need to let me go now, Tom,” said Marcus, twisting out of Tom’s reach and heading for the front door.

“Friday,” said Tom. “What time?”

“How does seven sound?”

“Perfect. Prepare to have your world rocked, Mr. Vine.”

Little could he know, but those words would echo around Marcus’s head for the whole of the following week.