Chapter Thirty-Eight
Chapter
Thirty-Eight
Mark should have known better. He fanned the
smoky air with a magazine, trying to send as much out the window as
possible, and refused to look at the blackened mess in the pan by
the stove. It all should have worked out. He’d done the hard part,
turned the sauce down to simmer, and had a quick shower. But then
he’d come out of the bathroom to find a smoking mess with the dial
on the stove turned to “high”, not “low”. He’d obviously turned it
in the wrong direction.
The buzzer sounded, announcing a visitor, and
he swore softly. He wasn’t even dressed. He’d known he’d be tight
for time, that was why he’d been multitasking…
“Hello,” he said into the intercom.
“It’s me,” came the voice from the wall.
“Lucas.”
Of course it was. Mark looked frantically
around the apartment as he hit the buzzer, then crossed quickly to
the door and pulled it slightly open so Lucas would be able to get
in. Mark scampered toward the bedroom, then. At least he’d already
gotten his clothes laid out, so they wouldn’t take long to put
on.
That was when the smoke alarm went off.
Probably not a good sign that it had taken so long, in terms of
safety, but Mark couldn’t worry about delayed warning systems, not
right then. The buzzing was so loud it was hard to think. He waved
the magazine desperately beneath the plastic cover of the infernal
device and was pretty sure that the sound was actually getting
louder. It was coming at him in waves, each one reaching further
into his brain, twisting things around a little more…
He felt himself shoved gently to the side and
watched in dazed confusion as Lucas efficiently grabbed a dining
room chair and stepped up on it, reached for the fire alarm and hit
a button on its face. The quiet was like a blessing and Mark was
starting to feel more in control of things until he saw Lucas
staring down at him and realized that he was wearing only a
towel.
“Everything okay?” Lucas asked, and there was
enough of a grin on his face to make Mark relax considerably.
“Completely,” he replied. “Everything’s just
fine. This is all part of the plan.”
“Crafty.” Lucas stepped down but didn’t
replace the chair at the table. “Your alarm’s hardwired in,” he
explained. “I can’t take the battery out, so I just hit the reset.
It’ll go off again in a couple minutes if we don’t get the air
cleared.”
Mark supposed he should have known all
that.
“Have you got a fan in the bathroom?”
Mark nodded.
“Is it on?”
Mark shook his head.
“Turn it on,” Lucas suggested. “I’ll prop the
hallway door open for some cross-ventilation. Is there a window in
the bedroom?”
Mark nodded.
“Maybe you could open that. Might want to get
dressed while you’re in there. Unless wearing only a towel is part
of your master plan.”
Mark finally found his voice. “I can’t tell
you about the plan. It’s a secret.”
“Okay,” Lucas agreed easily.
“I’ll be right back,” Mark said, and he hit
the switch for the bathroom fan on the way to the bedroom. The fan
was obnoxiously loud, the reason he didn’t use it when he showered,
but it was a whole lot less offensive than the fire alarm had
been.
He opened the window and then pulled on his
khakis and a dark blue button-down. He ran his hands through his
short hair and peered at himself in the utilitarian mirror above
his dresser. He took a deep breath and coughed a little. Possibly
he’d inhaled more burnt alfredo fumes than was healthy. But there
was a sweet, beautiful, completely magnetic man waiting for him in
the main room, so he’d worry about his lungs some other time.
Lucas was in the kitchen poking doubtfully at
the blackened pan. Mark made a face. “I guess it’s not
salvageable?”
“The food? No prayer. The pot? Honestly, I
think the pot is done too. But I guess you could pry the food out
and soak the pot overnight. You might get lucky.”
“I’m not completely helpless,” Mark said
quickly. “In general. I mean, I know nothing about cars. And I’m
just learning about farm stuff. And I messed up a pretty simple
meal, here. But…” He trailed off. Did he have any evidence of
practical skills whatsoever?
“Can you dial a phone?” Lucas asked casually.
“I like pizza, and Chinese, and Indian. And I think that new Thai
place delivers. Or The Garage does takeout on weeknights, if you
want pub food.” He shrugged and leaned against the counter. “I
don’t like seafood much. Other than that, I’m easy to please.”
Mark nodded. He was starting to feel better.
He’d gotten too focused on the date part, and forgotten the
Lucas aspect of the evening. The man was the furthest thing
from demanding, and Mark needed to just relax and enjoy himself.
“Pizza’s easy,” he suggested. “Favorite toppings?”
“Anything but anchovies. But…usually I’m not
as crazy about the new toppings. You know, artichokes and couscous
or whatever. Usually I like the old school stuff. Pepperoni,
bacon…” He stopped. “But the new ones are fine too.” It was as if
he’d just fallen into the same trap as Mark, suddenly remembering
that he was on a date. Or maybe it was just typical Lucas, willing
to go along.
Mark grinned. “No couscous. I think I can
manage that.” He swung the fridge door open and looked at the array
of soft drinks he’d picked up in honor of his non-drinking guest.
At least he hadn’t burned those. “Root beer? Cola? Ginger ale? Or I
got these fancy ones…” He was suddenly, acutely aware of Lucas’s
body as the other man swung around to peer into the fridge with
him. They were close, their hips almost touching, and then Lucas
crouched down to see the bottles and his hair brushed against
Mark’s forearm. It was nothing special. They’d probably been in
closer contact fifty times on the farm, working together on some
task. And they’d certainly been more sexual over the last couple
days, more overtly intimate. But somehow it was this casual,
comfortable domestic touching that made Mark’s breath catch in his
chest. Lucas reached for one of the bottles and half-turned to
smile up at him.
“I like pomegranate stuff,” he admitted as he
straightened. “It’s kind of trendy, I guess, but it tastes
good.”
Mark nodded and tried to get his composure
back. “Okay,” he managed, but his act wasn’t good enough; Lucas was
squinting at him, looking almost concerned.
“Something wrong?” Lucas looked around the
apartment for a cause and, seeing nothing amiss, looked down at
himself. “You wanted to save the pomegranate one?” he finally
guessed, but even he seemed to realize that it was an unlikely
cause of Mark’s agitation.
“I like having you here.” Mark grinned
sheepishly. “That’s all. This is nice.”
“You looked like you swallowed a bug. That’s
what you look like when things are nice?”
“Oh, and also I just swallowed a bug. That’s
what you saw. The ‘you being here’ thing is just a side-topic.”
“I like being here,” Lucas responded shyly.
“Even if it is smoky and full of bugs.” He wasn’t moving, but there
was something in his eyes that made it feel like the two of them
were getting closer together.
“No more bugs.” Mark shuffled carefully
toward the other man. “I just took care of the last one.” Another
shuffle, then they both watched as Lucas carefully set the unopened
bottle of pomegranate juice on the counter.
“Greedy. You could have shared.” Lucas turned
so his back was to the counter, his legs spread just enough to
create an inviting space for Mark’s body. Then he reached out and
hooked his index fingers into Mark’s waist band, tugging him gently
forward.
It didn’t take much persuasion. Mark eased
in, both of them looking down as their feet aligned and then
disappeared as Mark leaned forward and his body blocked the view.
Mark wanted to kiss Lucas, but he wanted to do so many other things
too. He ran his fingertips in tiny, exploratory circles along the
strong muscles of Lucas’s forearms, up past the sensitive skin
inside his elbows, over and around the taut biceps and then just
inside the sleeves of his snug black T-shirt.
“You want it off?” Lucas asked, his voice
barely more than a whisper.
Mark took a deep breath. He wanted it all
off. He wanted Lucas naked, wanted the chance to explore his body
inside and out, wanted to know every part of the man. But he also
wanted to maintain some level of control over it all. “If it comes
off, I think I might lose those phone-dialing skills we were
talking about.”
Lucas just shrugged. “It’s not like the pizza
place closes early.”
“What do you want?” It was an
important question, Mark realized, one he should have asked much
earlier. Lucas had said he was willing to go pretty far, but that
didn’t mean it was his first choice.
“I want you,” Lucas said simply.
Well, that was reassuring, but maybe not
quite enough. “What do you normally do? I mean…” Mark took a deep
breath and forced himself to step back a little. He was the one
who’d said he didn’t want casual sex, so maybe he was the one who
needed to put some effort into making things more than casual.
“Let’s sit down,” he said reluctantly. “Do you want a glass for
your drink?”
“The bottle’s fine,” Lucas said cautiously,
obviously unsure about the new direction.
“I’ll order food. I’ve got a salad, and
desert. Do we need anything other than the pizza?”
“Pizza has all four food groups. It’s a
self-contained meal.”
Mark smiled. “Excellent. Okay, make yourself
at home.” He gestured toward the living room as he headed for the
phone. He tried to keep his back turned while he made the order,
finding it hard to concentrate on details like thin or regular
crust when Lucas Cain was sprawling on his sofa, licking his lips
after tasting the pomegranate soda, leaning forward and running his
fingers over the magazines on the coffee table… Mark swallowed hard
as he hung up the phone. He needed to be in control of this. He had
beliefs, and they hadn’t changed just because he’d met someone who
electrified him.