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19

JONESY

When Mark brought our plates to the table, he snickered. “Looks as if you gentlemen sit high on the friendship scale with Andrew. He set the bar high tonight,” he said, setting my dinner in front of me first.

Mark was right, and Andrew wasn’t kidding about creating some surprises for our dinner. I’d ordered a simple petite filet, and what came to the table was a gastronomic delight. The steak was topped with a blue cheese sauce that wasn’t listed on the menu. The vegetables had been sautéed in seasoned olive oil with rosemary rather than steamed. And the accompanying frites had been cooked in duck fat. There went my diet.

Craig had the chicken Marsala with creamy risotto and sautéed Brussels sprouts with garlic and bacon. It was a step up from the roasted chicken breast on the menu. “Holy shit,” Craig said as Mark set his plate down in front of him.

We looked at each other in amazement. “Uh, this seems a bit much, don’t you think?” I said, taking hold of my knife and fork.

He snorted. “Forget about Wynn; Andrew is now your best friend,” he replied, gazing at his plate, not entirely sure what he wanted to dig into first. Instead, he grabbed a frite from the paper cone on my plate. “Oh, my God. These are the best French fries ever!”

We didn’t talk for the first few minutes, thoroughly savoring Andrew’s creations. I’d switched to red wine to have with my steak, and Craig opted for Pinot Grigio. I picked up my glass and asked, “What are your plans in Lake Tahoe?”

Wiping his mouth with his napkin, he said, “Well, I think I’ll take on the identity of an independent news reporter. I still have fake business cards I can pass around if need be. I just need to dig them out.”

“You actually have a phone number they can call?”

“Of course. It’s a burner phone Chloe keeps. It has a voicemail message and everything. She knows how to play the game.”

“Okay. Have you contacted Chet yet?” I asked, stabbing a floret of broccoli.

“Not yet. I’ll let him know tomorrow after I visit Brooke Chandler. I think it’s proper to offer condolences after her cheating husband careened his Jaguar off into a ravine, don’t you?” he replied, with an edge of sarcasm.

That made me choke on my broccoli, but I recovered quickly. “You’re so bad,” I replied, pointing my fork at him. “She was a client of yours, but this seems suspicious.”

“Yes, and maybe, just maybe, she’ll show a hint of something in her body language or replies I can pass on to you.”

“I think we both feel she might have had something to do with his death. Opportunity and motive are there, considering the evidence in the photos you gave her.”

“Yeah, but I keep wrestling with how convenient it is for her to be blamed. It’s almost obvious.” Craig put his fork down and rested his hands in his lap. “I’m not really sure what to think.”

“Crimes of passion are usually spur-of-the-moment. The investigation will tell us why he lost control of his Jaguar. It might be an untimely accident or an act of premeditation. Remember you’re going to visit her to offer your sympathies for the tragedy and ask how she’s feeling. Don’t let on that you suspect her. It could scare her off,” I warned.

Craig sighed. “Yeah, I get that. I can be a convincing actor when I need to be, though.”

“I certainly hope when you and I are having our fun, you’re not acting,” I replied with a wink.

He reached over and grabbed another frite from my plate, and bit into it with gusto. “I can’t believe you’d actually think that, babe.”

“I’m teasing, Howler,” I said, tapping his foot with mine.

“Just for that comment, I’m gonna show you whose boss tonight,” he said in an assertive tone.

“Are you now?”

“Finish your dinner, and I’ll slap together some dessert when we get home,” he replied, running his tongue across his lips as he sat back in the booth, never taking his eyes off me.

After we paid the bill, we asked to see Andrew again. He arrived at our table as we were getting up, and we thanked him for the special attention. Quick hugs and goodbyes followed, and we headed to our cars. I’d already told Craig I’d be driving over to his place for the night. The anticipation I felt as I got closer to his house had my cock thickening in my slacks.

I arrived shortly after he did, and a quick knock on the door and a turn of the handle let me in as usual. He greeted me in the entryway, shirtless, his belt unbuckled, probably trying to get naked before I arrived. I stood there staring, my cock getting harder by the second.

In a rush to get to me, he slid across the polished hardwood floor in his stocking feet, slamming me against his front door. I let out a forceful breath when his weight hit me, and his eyes locked on mine as I righted him, keeping him pressed against my chest. Heat radiated from his skin, making my fingers tingle.

“Well, that’s one way to greet your boyfriend who's been sitting across from you at dinner and anxiously waiting for his dessert,” I said, my head resting against his cheek.

Craig snickered. “I hope you can forgive my clumsiness as impatience to get my hands on you.”