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of drug dealers held me down and cut me with a hunting knife.”
    Brendan’s jaw dropped. “Seriously?”
    “No,” he said. “I fell off my mountain bike a couple years ago. The other story just sounds more interesting.”
    Brendan laughed. “I think you’re interesting enough without the story.”
    Marc glanced down at the pizza. “I’m not actually hungry.”
    “Neither am I,” Brendan admitted. “Do you want to go sit in there?”
    He nodded and picked up his beer, then followed Brendan over to the sofa. Brendan was pleased when Marc sat down right beside him. “So.” Marc smiled. “Tell me about yourself.”
    Brendan laughed. “Seriously? I thought you had me all figured out already.”
    He shrugged. “I figure if I ask about you, it will stop you from asking about me, since I know you’re dying to.”
    “Oh, yeah?” Brendan shuffled a little closer. “Well maybe I should withhold information, too. I can be mysterious.”
    Marc laughed, long and hard. “Yes, I’m sure you have quite the shady past, Brendan .”
    “Why did you emphasize my name, Marc ?”
    “Because nobody called Brendan has a shady past. They have prep schools and fraternities and prom dates.”
    “Hey.” Brendan pointed. “I was never in a fraternity.”
    Marc grabbed his pointed finger. He slid closer, and slowly sucked it into his mouth, his hot tongue swirling around it. A shudder of breath left Brendan and he groaned, his eyelids fluttering. “Damn. You’re fucking lethal with that tongue.”
    Marc popped Brendan’s finger out of his mouth, but held onto it, pulling Brendan in to him. Their lips met, then that tongue was in Brendan’s mouth, swirling, probing. When Marc slowly eased back and broke the kiss, Brendan could hardly see straight. The power this man had over his body was overwhelming, and as out of control as it made him feel, he loved it. It made him not care about fiancées or shady pasts or mobster families or anything else Marc might have tucked away. As long as he could kiss him, and touch him, he was right where he wanted to be.
    Marc’s fingers threaded through Brendan’s hair, his pale brown eyes seeming to drink him in. “I know I keep giving you a hard time,” he said. “But I like who you are. That’s the truth, Brendan.”
    “And who is that?” Brendan asked. His voice was still breathy from the kiss, and now the feel of Marc’s fingers in his hair. “Who do you think I am?”
    “Suburban rich kid,” Marc said. “With your blond hair and your broad shoulders and your BMW. You’re like that hot football player that everyone wants but no one can have. Except maybe the head cheerleader.”
    “ You managed to have me. You had me the first second I looked at you in the restaurant. You must have noticed me watching you.”
    Marc chuckled. “Yes. But I didn’t know why. I thought you were an immigration officer. Trying to catch me working illegally.”
    Brendan laughed. “I do not look like a cop.”
    Marc shrugged. “But you do work in law. I could smell it on you.”
    “Oh, come on. You’re not as clever as you pretend to be. You also thought I wanted to take you out in my pimp-mobile and buy my way into your bed.”
    Marc snickered. “I didn’t really think that. I was just trying to make you angry so you would go away.”
    Brendan’s smile fell, and he scowled. “You did that this afternoon, too, didn’t you? When we spoke on the street.”
    Marc gave a little nod. Something in his expression grew serious, and for the second time since meeting him, Brendan thought he saw someone else there, beneath the surface. A part of Marc he was not yet acquainted with.
    “Why?” Brendan asked. “Why do you try to turn me off? And then come back and try to...turn me on?”
    Marc sighed and shifted on the sofa, turning away from Brendan. He linked his hands on his lap, his head hanging down. “Because I’m a fuck up, Brendan. A huge, enormous fuck up.”
    “What do you mean?”
    He