Free Golden Dancer by Tara Lain Page B

looked up at the stars. This had to be one of the oddest little dramas in a highly entertaining life. How would it play out?

Chapter Nine
     
    Mac drove back up the PCH toward Broadway, which would take him out to the canyon. He had to settle down and think. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been this confused, if you didn’t count the whole fucking last week. The Russian messed him up. There was no way to escape that simple fact. And now the introduction of his nemesis into the mix really got him going.
    The fact was, being at Terrebone’s place tomorrow gave him an amazing opportunity to dig a little into the theft of the Golden Dancer . He’d considered it tonight, of course, but the wildness of his thoughts and the satisfaction of his stomach made him tongue-tied on the subject. Some fucking reporter he was. When had he ever shied from doing his job? These men were scrambling his priorities.
    Maybe in the confusion tomorrow, he could even nose around a little, see if there was any evidence of the sculpture. Not that he expected it to be displayed on a pedestal somewhere.
    Interesting. Terrebone wasn’t what he’d thought. Sure, he was arrogant and entitled and all the other shit you’d expect from a guy who’d made his own way to a billion bucks, but there was something more. Maybe a hint of a soft center to that rock candy that he hadn’t expected. Mac saw it mostly when Terrebone looked at Trelain. More than lust, though there was plenty of that, he saw…what? Caring? Admiration? Love?
    And how did Mac feel about that? Crap. He sounded like some New Age psychologist. Or like Debbie. He remembered every word she’d spoken to him last week before he went into hiding. He did have crappy romantic relationships with women. His father had really hated having people think he was gay. When Mac heard about Trelain being at Terrebone’s estate, he’d fucking freaked. He’d rushed in like some knight in shining cargo pants, as Trelain had said. Why? What did he want? Did he just feel protective of his parents’ idol? While the dancer seemed sophisticated, he was very young, after all. Or did he…? Crap, he shied from the thought.
    He glanced in the rearview mirror . C’mon, MacAllister, you don’t ever kid yourself if you can help it. Do I want more of those silky, long-fingered hands wrapped around my cock? Maybe more? Lips? Ass ? There. He’d thought it, and the world hadn’t exploded.
    He reached up and swiped at his hair angrily. Shit, how could he have lived so long and never known this was an issue in his life? How could he have kidded himself at the most fundamental level? Maybe the world had exploded.
    * * *
    Trelain sat at the dressing table in his teal and gold silk robe, waiting for the knock he knew would come. He wanted it to come, didn’t he? When he heard the rap, he took a deep breath. “Come in, Daniel.”
    The big man entered, also dressed in a robe, but his was a deep blue, the color of his eyes. “Do you want me here?” That penetrating stare pulled the truth from Trelain’s heart and his lips. “Very much. I want you very much.”
    But Daniel didn’t take advantage of the open invitation. He crossed and sat on the bed. “Your friend is very interesting.”
    “He is, isn’t he? Though I’m not sure he’s my friend.”
    “Lover, then?”
    What was he thinking? “You know we’re not lovers. He considers himself straight.”
    Daniel leaned back on one elbow, his robe gapping over his muscled chest, showing the light smattering of brown hair that matched his eyebrows. “I subscribe to the Jimmy Carter view that when two men have sinned in their minds, they are as good as lovers.”
    Trelain burst out laughing. “I’m quite sure your former president was not thinking of two men, and I’m quite sure that you, sir, do not believe in sin.”
    “Both true, but you get the idea.”
    Trelain rose and walked over to sit beside Daniel. “Have I ever sinned in my mind, as you