Free Golden Dancer by Tara Lain

happy to see him. Of course, they hadn’t parted under the best of circumstances. He’d managed to forget all that in his haste to play Sir Galahad. He hadn’t thought this through enough to know how he’d balls this out now that he knew Trelain was pissed.
    Mac sat on one of the leather and wood Eames chairs, while Trelain posed quite beautifully on the couch opposite him. Terrebone stayed standing and leaned against the wall by the arched entry. Mac glanced at him. Wasn’t there some way to get rid of the bastard?
    Trelain leaned back against the couch as if waiting for a naughty child to explain himself. “So, why are you here?”
    Okay, move over, angels, I’m rushing in . “I heard you were here, and I live in Laguna too, and I thought I could pick you up and give you a ride back to LA, and maybe get some more information for the profile, and…”
    Trelain held up a graceful hand. “Mac-Kenzie. You Americans have an expression. There are lies, and there are damned lies, and I believe that is one of the latter. Would you care to try again?” Terrebone, the bastard, laughed.
    Mac felt trapped. He looked down at his hands. “I thought you might be in trouble?”
    “What?”
    He looked up straight into those beautiful eyes that were wide with amazement. He nodded his head toward Terrebone. “I heard you had gone off with him, and he’s got quite a reputation with men, and I just thought you might want to leave or something.” He inspected his hands again. “The part about me living in Laguna is true.”
    The eyes got wider. “You were protecting my honor?”
    “Not exactly. It’s just, he collects things, beautiful things, and I didn’t think you’d want to be collected.”
    Silence. Trelain stared at him. Terrebone never moved from his spot, his expression unreadable.
    Suddenly Trelain launched himself off the couch. In one second, Mac was juggling a squirming mass of ballet dancer. “Mac-Kenzie, that is the sweetest thing anyone has ever done for me. My knight in shining cargo pants. You are a wonder.”
    Crap. Was that the response he’d wanted somewhere deep in his heart? Trelain was sitting on the edge of his chair hugging him tightly. Oh, Jesus. Very lightly, he touched the dancer’s bare back. Just as silky as his leg had been. And his cock. Shit, not going there. He patted that back firmly. Terrebone pushed off from the wall and watched the tableau with what looked like a slightly amused expression. How much did he know?
    The billionaire walked into the room. “I must say, Mister…Mac, is it?… this is a most extraordinary arrival.” Trelain pulled back from the hug, but stayed sitting beside Mac on the chair. The billionaire gestured toward the dancer. “I think you will find that Trelain is only as, shall we say, scathed as he wants to be. He is not being held in chains, nor have I given him false impressions of my intentions, which are, amazingly, somewhat honorable. So, why don’t you stay to dinner?”
    * * *
    After excusing himself from his cozy gathering, Daniel hid out in the office and stared at the computer. He’d done a quick search on the man now sitting in his family room with his lover, drinking his wine. Quite a history. The guy was only twenty-seven. Looked older, but Daniel figured a bunch of trips to Afghanistan, Iraq, and Somalia could have that effect on a man. Really eclectic reporting. Everything seemed to interest him. Government scandals, murders, and theft—hmm. He’d even written a really good review of the ballet’s current performance of Spectre of the Rose.
    Maybe that was how he’d met Trelain. Or maybe that was why he got the interview to begin with. Hell, he had figured they had to be lovers. Who else would come racing to the rescue but someone deeply attached? Daniel fought back a wave of jealousy so intense, it blinded him for a second. Startled him too. That kind of emotion never got you anywhere, and he seldom felt it. Obviously, Trelain was