It was time to unveil a new and improved Zach, someone who wouldn’t skirt the after-dinner drinks and get-togethers in the bar. It would be safe here; no one knew the real him, and he could easily pretend to be someone else. A man confident and in control. All he needed was the balls to pull it off.
He headed to the check-in desk, crossing the elegant lobby decorated in gilt and crystals, all abuzz with families and couples, some in dinner clothes. Checking his watch, Zach found it was close to six in the evening; the ride from the city had been interminable, and he had a scant half hour before the pre-dinner meet-and-greet. With his printed confirmation in hand, Zach approached the young man behind the desk, who flashed him a practiced, bright smile.
“Good evening, sir. Checking in?”
“Yes. I’m with the conference.”
“Excellent.” All it took was a few taps on the screen, and Zach was checked in and upgraded to a small suite. A pleasant surprise.
“Do you need help with your luggage?”
Zach eyed his garment bag and small carry-on and gave the clerk a smile. “I’m fine, thanks. These design conferences are great ’cause I never have to dress up.”
The young man met Zach’s stare, his engaging smile no longer forced, its warmth setting off the amber streaks glowing in his deep brown eyes. He handed Zach the cardkey in its envelope. “Sometimes it’s nice to get dressed up, especially when you have someone special to share your time with.”
Well, damn. Flustered by the man’s flirting, Zach retreated. “Uh, thanks.” Averting his eyes, he fumbled with the keycard, finally pocketing it, and hastened to the elevator, wheeling the small carry-on behind him. Within minutes the elevator soared upward, leaving his stomach and nerves down below.
Pressed for time, Zach had no chance to appreciate either the sweeping view of the hotels in the rapidly advancing twilight over the Atlantic Ocean, nor the suite’s amenities if he didn’t want to be late for the cocktail socializing. It took only a few minutes to change into a sky-blue silk shirt and light khaki pants. One thing about having a fashion designer for a best friend: Zach never needed to worry about his wardrobe. No matter how hard or loud he protested, every season Julian sent him an entire wardrobe of clothing. The silken fabric of the shirt whispered like air, sensuous against his skin.
Maybe Julian was right in the sense that clothes could somehow empower a person. After spending most of his days slouching around in jeans and tee shirts or ratty sweaters, dressing in this silky-smooth shirt bolstered his confidence for the bet. He no longer thought Nick’s idea was silly, and instead, Zach approached the evening with detachment and a sense of purpose.
The real Zachary Cohen, who enjoyed spending his nights lying on the sofa with Chinese takeout, watching old movies with his overprotective mother hovering in the background, would be replaced with a coolly confident, self-assured Zach. A Zach who loved the New York City nightlife and belonged at a place like Sparks. From his friendship with Marcus and Julian, Zach could’ve produced a National Geographic Special on the mating rituals of New York City gay men on the prowl. He sprayed on some cologne, and after only the slightest hesitation, took condoms and a small bottle of lube from his suitcase and put them in the night table drawer.
Satisfied with his overall transformation, Zach slipped the cardkey in his wallet and left the room. The ride in that bullet elevator to the third floor of the hotel where the reception was being held left him a bit queasy, and the carpet, patterned in a garish red, black and gold design made him dizzy. The buzz from the crowd only added to his unease, and Zach, who didn’t drink much, had never been happier to see a bar in his life.
“A double vodka on the rocks, please.”
“That bad, huh?”
Zach accepted the drink and, turning around, was greeted by a bright smile in an extremely handsome, rugged face. The man’s hazel eyes reflected humor, warmth, and by the increasing intensity of his stare, desire.
Zach’s breath and heartbeat quickened.
“Not anymore.”
Chapter Two
“Heads-up,Sammy.”
Reflexively, Sam Stein put up his glove and caught the ball before it knocked him on his head. He grunted and tossed it back over to his friend Henry.
“Sorry.”
“Not as sorry as you would’ve been if you’d gotten hit. You’re a thousand miles away.” Henry took off his cap and scratched his head. “Wanna take a break?”
“Yeah.”
Henry walked over to him, first stopping by the cooler they’d brought filled with drinks to dig two bottles out. Henry handed him a bottle of cold water and cracked the other one open for himself, drinking half in one shot.
The shock of the cold water spilling down his dry throat woke Sam up from his malaise. He’d thought coming out here and playing some ball would be good to take his mind off everything that had happened over the past winter, but he still couldn’t concentrate.Guess it will take more than a day in the park to make up for almost getting someone killed.
“You’re not still thinking of Andy are you?”
He followed Henry over to the cooler which sat in the shade of a huge oak tree. They sat on the bench, the sun-warmed wood feeling smooth beneath his thighs.
“Not really.”
Henry shot him a dubious look. “Then you’re thinking of your ex-partner. Listen, Sam. What’s done is done. He’s back at work, and yeah, you made a mistake, but you paid the ultimate price for it with your badge.”
