started out as a gentle tapping that squeezed its way into Mark’s dream. Tap, tap, tap. He readjusted his head, pushing further into the pillow. Tappity tap . More insistent now. He groaned and pulled the blankets up over his head and fought his hardest to stay in that dreamlike state before certain wakefulness. It had to be a bird. Did woodpeckers have habitats in Tahiti? Tap, tap, tap . It grew into a full-fledged knock and Mark lifted his head groggily. Not a bird.
Who in the hell? He wondered. Had he forgotten he signed up for some bullcrap sunrise yoga and Pilates thing? He didn’t do yoga. There was no way he’d sign up for that. Breakfast in bed? Newspaper? Did Tahiti even have newspapers?
The knock sounded again, really meaning business now, and when he heard his name being called, he managed to wrestle his way out of the blankets to a wobbly stance at the end of the bed. He stared hard at the door like it would swing open from the weight of his bleary-eyed glare.
“Mark?” The voice was muffled, but he would be able to recognize it anywhere now.
“One sec,” he called out hoarsely. First thing in the morning he always sounded like he was doing a lousy James Earl Jones impression. Mark looked down at himself and realized that the boxer briefs wouldn’t do, so he hopped back and forth getting his legs into his shorts, his coordination shot. He should maybe reconsider the yoga thing.
Shuffling to the door, he swung it open wishing he had time to brush his teeth. About to apologize, his words stopped short in his throat at the sight of Zane standing on his doorstep.
The man was in designer jeans and a black t-shirt, his sunglasses blocking his eyes but not his grim expression. He was still perfectly, awesomely attractive. That expression, though, it had Mark uneasy—and then he noticed Zane’s bags sitting behind him.
“You’re leaving?” he blurted, stupidly hurt. The year’s worth of snark that had built in him during his futile attempt to get Rafe, came roaring to the surface just when he thought he’d gotten over that bitchy shit.
Zane pulled off his sunglasses, his eyes filled with regret. “I really wish I didn’t have to, but I got a call after I got back last night and there’s a hitch in this project I’ve been wanting to do for years. I need to go and take care of it.”
Mark leaned a shoulder against the doorjamb and braced his opposite arm on the door. “What about your vacation?” What about me? He sighed inwardly at the pathetic question that sprang to his mind unsolicited. They’d had one date. Zane owed him nothing. But…
“I’m not going to check out of my room so that if I can make it back there’s no problem. This job,” he waved his hand around, “is getting out of control in L.A. and unfortunately, the vacation comes second on this one.”
Mark nodded and let go of the door to run his hand through his hair, knowing he must look like shit. Sappy shit at that. The thought that he wished Zane had woken him up the night before once he’d heard this news flipped around in his brain.
This is dumb, he thought. Really dumb. There was no reason to feel attached to this man, no matter that he was the best first date Mark ever had. Because that was just it: Zane was a first date. There’d be more dates in his future with other guys…probably. He hoped. And who was he trying to kid? Zane could have anyone he wanted, male or female. How could Mark measure up to all those people out there pawing for the man’s attention? He told this to himself over again and sighed when he knew it was going to take more than that to convince him. Why couldn’t Mark keep things simple ?
“Mark.”
Zane’s voice was softly intense, an attention grabbing combination, and Mark’s eyes shot to his.
“I have zero interest in screwing around, here.”
Mark blinked, surprised at the harshness of what he heard. He guessed he knew where he stood and it was a shocker after thinking their
Who in the hell? He wondered. Had he forgotten he signed up for some bullcrap sunrise yoga and Pilates thing? He didn’t do yoga. There was no way he’d sign up for that. Breakfast in bed? Newspaper? Did Tahiti even have newspapers?
The knock sounded again, really meaning business now, and when he heard his name being called, he managed to wrestle his way out of the blankets to a wobbly stance at the end of the bed. He stared hard at the door like it would swing open from the weight of his bleary-eyed glare.
“Mark?” The voice was muffled, but he would be able to recognize it anywhere now.
“One sec,” he called out hoarsely. First thing in the morning he always sounded like he was doing a lousy James Earl Jones impression. Mark looked down at himself and realized that the boxer briefs wouldn’t do, so he hopped back and forth getting his legs into his shorts, his coordination shot. He should maybe reconsider the yoga thing.
Shuffling to the door, he swung it open wishing he had time to brush his teeth. About to apologize, his words stopped short in his throat at the sight of Zane standing on his doorstep.
The man was in designer jeans and a black t-shirt, his sunglasses blocking his eyes but not his grim expression. He was still perfectly, awesomely attractive. That expression, though, it had Mark uneasy—and then he noticed Zane’s bags sitting behind him.
“You’re leaving?” he blurted, stupidly hurt. The year’s worth of snark that had built in him during his futile attempt to get Rafe, came roaring to the surface just when he thought he’d gotten over that bitchy shit.
Zane pulled off his sunglasses, his eyes filled with regret. “I really wish I didn’t have to, but I got a call after I got back last night and there’s a hitch in this project I’ve been wanting to do for years. I need to go and take care of it.”
Mark leaned a shoulder against the doorjamb and braced his opposite arm on the door. “What about your vacation?” What about me? He sighed inwardly at the pathetic question that sprang to his mind unsolicited. They’d had one date. Zane owed him nothing. But…
“I’m not going to check out of my room so that if I can make it back there’s no problem. This job,” he waved his hand around, “is getting out of control in L.A. and unfortunately, the vacation comes second on this one.”
Mark nodded and let go of the door to run his hand through his hair, knowing he must look like shit. Sappy shit at that. The thought that he wished Zane had woken him up the night before once he’d heard this news flipped around in his brain.
This is dumb, he thought. Really dumb. There was no reason to feel attached to this man, no matter that he was the best first date Mark ever had. Because that was just it: Zane was a first date. There’d be more dates in his future with other guys…probably. He hoped. And who was he trying to kid? Zane could have anyone he wanted, male or female. How could Mark measure up to all those people out there pawing for the man’s attention? He told this to himself over again and sighed when he knew it was going to take more than that to convince him. Why couldn’t Mark keep things simple ?
“Mark.”
Zane’s voice was softly intense, an attention grabbing combination, and Mark’s eyes shot to his.
“I have zero interest in screwing around, here.”
Mark blinked, surprised at the harshness of what he heard. He guessed he knew where he stood and it was a shocker after thinking their
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