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saturnine eyebrows quirked. “A fleet of fractional jets?”
    “I want to create a brand. I wouldn’t try to do everything at once.”
    Trey closed the neat report. “You’d start with the magazine.”
    “Yes.” Zane was relieved he saw it the same way. “I know magazines are risky, but this one is designed to be ad heavy. We’d do articles on the coolest expensive watches or the best wines for impressing your girlfriend. So many people are insecure about spending money. Whether they have a lot or a little, they want to know they’re buying the right things. Of course there aren’t ‘wrong’ things, but they want someone to guide them. People who won a bet were always asking my opinion on how to celebrate. It was like they needed my approval.”
    A grin slanted Trey’s mouth. “That’s because you’re the lucky stiff whose shoes they wished they could walk in.”
    Zane didn’t take offense. He knew Trey’s teasing was meant fondly. “I want The Bad Boys Club to represent a lifestyle. Work hard. Play hard. Look good while you’re doing both. I was thinking . . .” He hesitated, because this pushed the edge of his comfort zone. “Every so often, we’d do a spread with skin appeal: the best nude beaches in Europe, the hottest soccer players with their shirts off. We’d draw in male and female readers. Everybody likes visuals.”
    “You mean everybody likes eye candy.” Trey laughed, patting the tablecloth to either side of Zane’s report. “You’d totally have to be the first cover boy.”
    “Me?” Zane jerked straighter. He hadn’t thought of this.
    “Absolutely. You are the brand you’re talking about: the guy women want to bed and men want to hang out with. I can completely see you pulling this off. Like Oprah with testicles.”
    Zane choked on the water he’d been sipping. “Thank you for that image.”
    Trey leaned across the table to grip his hand, passion animating his eternally interesting face. “You can do this, Zane. This is so not beyond your capacity.”
    “I want you to do it with me,” Zane admitted.
    Trey’s jaw dropped, his eyes gone round. His throat moved like he was having trouble deciding how to respond. Abruptly nervous, Zane pulled his hand back from him.
    “I know you’re excited about working in DC. You’ll probably be advising senators before the week is out. The thing is, you’ll have more fun if you stick with me.”
    Trey sat back and blinked at him.
    “Full partners,” Zane went on stubbornly. “You wouldn’t be working for me like you did on the bookmaking. We’d be an equal team.”
    Trey’s green eyes welled up. “Well,” he said, blinking them again rapidly. “I wasn’t expecting this.”
    “Think about it,” Zane said gruffly. “We don’t have to stop being partners just because we’re leaving school.”
    “Right.” Laughing softly—possibly at himself—Trey picked up his napkin and pressed it to his face.
    “Uh,” said the waitress, choosing then to come up. “Did you decide on the wine?”
    Trey laughed harder and dropped the shield for his expression. “Rebecca,” he said, looking at her directly despite his emotion. “We’d love it if you’d bring us a bottle of the Les Belles Filles Burgundy.”
    Zane reminded himself Trey usually remembered server’s names.
    “That’ll complement what you ordered.” Rebecca sounded like she knew . . . and like her customers ought to care. Evidently, she had confidence in her taste. “Shall I bring the bottle with the main course?”
    “Please,” Trey said. The pair traded smiles, not as flirtatious as before but like they approved of each other and were enjoying it.
    Zane bit his tongue against interrupting their mutual admiration society. If Trey wanted to make time with this girl, that wasn’t his concern. Because of who they were sexually, they couldn’t supply each other with everything they craved. Given a choice, neither would give up women as bed partners.
    “I’ll