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coursed through him. Shea was here, coping with family and discomfort for him. For a moment, he wanted to taste Shea’s lips so badly there was nothing else inthe world.
“Lead on, then,”Shea allowed.
“Gladly.” Lucian replied smoothly and navigated to their designated table without throwingShea against any sturdysurfaces.
Chances to talk dwindled to none as Lucian played the consummate politician and the speeches and presentations began. Lucian had no idea what food was served, but he memorized the way Shea managed a fork all over again, watched the way Shea’s mouth and throat moved inthe chew and swallow.
Lucian noticed when Shea grew restless with the games of wealth, toying with his plate and shifting in his chair. Lucian wanted to squeeze Shea’s thigh or offer some other gesture of comfort, but Lucian didn’t dare. It felt like pushing, graduating from arm to leg in the space of a mere hour and in front of witnesses. Shea’s talk of slow, his worried tone about taking things one step at a time, the way he wouldn’t quite meet Lucian’s gaze, theyalladded up to the need for care.
For anyone else, maybe that would be a tedious challenge, but somewhere between entree and dessert, Lucian realized with renewed clarity that he would do just about anythingto convince Shea that he meant what he said. Luciancared. He didn’t like the word “love”so much, wasn’t sure he understood it, really, but-
Shea inexplicably excused himself with a mumble in a lull between catty presenters, stalking away from the table and out of the hall with a purposeful stride. Lucian sat for a moment like a miniature glacier until he shook off the worry that Shea would merely leave, and he got up.
“Pardon me,” Lucian said to others, nodding and smiling with his best insincere turn of lip. He chased after Shea and panicked when he didn’t see the man in the reception room beyond the ballroom. Dark hallways, security, windows with no views, and Lucian took a deep breath to make himself think. He recalled countless dinner gatherings and Shea at eleven, fifteen, twenty getting up from the riotous table for a break. And Shea always went-
“Outside,” Lucian said to himself. He pivoted on a heel and marched to the nearest exit, which led onto a terrace adjacent to the gardens. The moon was full, the night air was cold but not bitter, and the wind was faint. Snow was piled on either side of the narrow concrete path that Lucian followed past dead twigs of trees and barren bushes. He came to a halt when he heard a faint chink to his right, and he saw fresh boot prints in the icy crust. Lucian smiled at the shape of the size twelve. Only Shea would wear motorcycle riding boots with a tux.
Lucian shoved aside prickly hedge branches and walked into a small clearing. A large oak stood on the far side, and the topiary blocked the breeze on three sides and opened onto a view of the golf course. A stone bench stood between the tree and Lucian, and Shea sat hunched forward on it, the amber light of a cigarette glowingbetweenbare fingers.
Approaching carefully so he didn’t slip on the slick pavers, Lucian counted the handful of stars above the halogen glow of the lights over the fifteenth hole. He blew fog in a long sigh and sat next to Shea, who said nothing. Lucian shivered, the chill of the bench seeping through to numb ass and legs. He inched closer to Shea, who glanced at Lucian with the same unfamiliar, unreadable mask Lucian’d seenShea donat Leaf.
“Thought you quit,” Lucian whispered, not wanting to disturb the peace with real volume. He plucked the cig from Shea’s grasp and sucked a sweet, deep drag ofnicotine nirvana.
“Never knew you’d started,” Shea said, bemusement replacingthe emptyexpression.
Smoke swirled, and Lucian crossed his legs toward Shea. Their shoulders brushed, and Lucian thrilled at how this casual touch out of a million others was different. “One does all sorts of things in the name of