Free The One That Got Away by Madeleine Urban, Rhianne Aile Page A

lips.
    Eyebrow still raised, Trace sighed and leaned back in his chair. “Do I even want to know?” he asked as he lifted his drink.
    “Probably not,” David confirmed. “Matt and I go way back, and not all of the history would be suitable for polite conversation.”
    Trace snorted. “And my tongue is polite conversation?” He rolled his eyes as the waiter appeared with fresh salads and their appetizer.
    David lifted his fork, still awkward with his left hand, but uncomfortable supporting his right for long periods of time. “Let’s just say this history includes some moments of an intimate nature that would include body parts you usually don’t deal with outside of your own shower.” As soon as he said the words, images of Trace naked and soapy ran through his mind, taking the edge off his physical hunger, but raising a hunger of an entirely different kind.
    “Gotcha,” Trace said. He picked up a crostini topped with tomato and cheese and tilted his head to pop the bite-size morsel in his mouth.
    “Mmmm. That gets an A,” he said while chewing happily.
    “You are entirely too easy to please for a restaurant critic.” David chuckled.
    “I’ll have you know, my average review is two and a quarter stars out of four,” Trace said archly, not seeing the manager who appeared behind him blanch and scurry away.
    David snorted, shaking his head. “You just gave the manager nightmares.”
    Trace raised an eyebrow and turned to glance over his shoulder, but there was no one there. He just shrugged. “Maybe they’ll triple check the food, then.” He smiled, leaning back and lifting his drink. “To a wonderful first dinner,” he toasted.
    Something warm settled in David’s belly that had nothing to do with the wine. Raising his glass, he touched Trace’s with a delicate clink. “If I forget to tell you later—thank you.” The blond’s blue eyes stayed locked with Trace’s as he drank slowly, his tongue peeking out to touch the edge of the glass before pulling the wine into his mouth. A slow tingle flowed through Trace as he watched David take a sip of wine, and he blinked several times, trying to recognize it before it was gone. Was all the teasing making him think about things—about David—in a way he normally wouldn’t? David’s eyes—had he ever noticed they were so blue and flecked with gold? He swallowed his wine and dropped his eyes, feeling a tinge of heat in his cheeks.
    David reacted to the shy drop of Trace’s eyes with a surge of desire.
    If he’d been out on a date, he’d be sure that his companion was interested in him and probably thinking naughty thoughts. With Trace, he didn’t know what to think. Their friendship was deepening in a way that felt different from anything he’d experienced before. Trace took a couple of bites of the salad and pushed it aside, instead nipping another crostini from the plate. He didn’t know why he felt nervous all of a sudden. This was David, his best friend of a few years now. Finally, it occurred to him.
    “You’re welcome,” he said quietly, glancing up at the other man, finding that he was still struck by how the light from the small flickering candle transformed David’s face.
    Snagging the last of the crostinis from the plate, David moaned as the sharp taste of plum tomatoes and garlic exploded in his mouth. “God, tell me that when I’m cursing you later. Do we have Alka-Seltzer at home?”
    Chuckling, Trace nodded. “Yeah, I had some last night.” He relaxed again with the easy comment, and it was easy to smile now. “So you think you might be able to suffer through the rest of the night?”
    His reply stalled by the arrival of a tray of steaming, aromatic food, David shot an amused glance at Trace, easily reading his friend’s mind as the manager personally served their dinner. As Trace dismissed the fawning man gracefully, David rolled his eyes. “It’ll be rough, but I think I’ll manage.”

    TRACE drove along the winding