You Were Made for Me Page 5

  III

  ALTHOUGH WE WERE on the road in a matter of minutes, it still took us more than three-quarters of an hour to get to the house in Great Falls, thanks to the traffic.

  I parked the Dodge at the curb behind Theo’s Corvair, the car Ralph Nader had declared unsafe at any speed. Still, Theo said it drove well enough for him, and he had no intention of getting rid of it, especially since he only used it for emergencies and relied on public transportation the rest of the time.

  We got out of the car and strolled up the walk to the front door. “You know, it blew my mind the first time I saw this house,” I told Quinn.

  “When you pretended to be Skip Patterson, you mean?”

  I ignored that. I was still a little steamed the photos I’d had of Quinn’s Phillips Exeter schoolmate were so out-of-date. I’d met him in the flesh when we went to Quinn’s twentieth reunion in June, and Quinn had introduced me to a man who was thirty pounds heavier and whose hairline was starting to give up the ghost. Quinn had been trying to look innocent when he introduced us, but I knew him too well to buy it.

  “You liked it?”

  “Huh? Oh, the house? Yeah.”

  “I’m glad.”

  “It must have been amazing growing up here.” And having people like Portia and Nigel Mann for parents.

  “It was.” He raised a hand to knock on the door, but it was thrown open before he could, and his mother stood there, beaming at him. At us.

  “How are you feeling, sweetheart?” She urged Quinn into the house and kissed his cheek.

  “I’m better, Mother. Mark took good care of me.”

  “I’m not surprised.” She drew my head down and kissed my cheek also. “Thank you,” she whispered, then stepped back.

  “You’re welcome.”

  “Did you enjoy your cruise?” Quinn asked.

  “Very much so. Gregor and I will tell you about it over dinner.”

  They’d taken a riverboat up the Mississippi, and I was looking forward to hearing about it. I knew Quinn was also. One day we’d go on one ourselves.

  I was distracted from those thoughts by Theo coming into the foyer. He wore a colorful jester’s mask, and cradled in his arms was the ugliest doll I’d ever seen. Novotny followed him, holding the kitten I’d given Portia as a Mother’s Day gift.

  “Look what Portia and Gregor brought us from New Orleans!” Theo pushed the mask off his face and thrust the doll toward me. “It’s a Voodoo goddess of good fortune!”

  “Nice.” Of course Portia would bring him and Matheson something to thank them for watching Miss Priss. She’d offered to pay them, but Theo had refused.

  “You’re just in time to say hello and goodbye to Theo,” Portia said.

  “Oh?” I raised an eyebrow at Theo. “I thought you’d be joining us for dinner.”

  “I’ve gotta go, Vince. Dinner’s all set here.”

  Novotny narrowed his eyes at me. Well, of course he did. “Say hello to your sister-in-law,” he growled as he held up the kitten.

  I rubbed the spot under the kitten’s left ear. “Hello, puss.” And then I realized what Novotny had said. If Miss Priss was my sister-in-law, that made Quinn her brother and my husband. Did Novotny realize the implications of what he’d said? For that matter, did Portia or Quinn?

  No, Portia and Quinn were talking about informing his uncles he’d left the CIA.

  As for Novotny, he just rattled on. “I have to finish setting the table.” He thrust the kitten into my arms. “Hold onto Miss Priss. She just discovered crab and thinks it’s the greatest thing since ginger ale.”

  Well, it was. I took the kitten from him. Portia and Novotny had assured me she’d named herself, and yeah, she was Portia’s kitten, but almost four months later and I still hadn’t become accustomed to her new name. I’d originally called her Pita, because the clown who was supposed to be cat sitting her had called her a pain in the ass after she’d scratched him. Which he’d deserved.

  “Were you a good girl while Mama and Novotny were away?” Oh my God, I was losing it. She arched up and nudged my chin with her head, then stroked against my jaw. She had really soft fur, and I thought about what it would be like if Quinn had fur like that. Having him rub himself against my body would have been an amazing sensation, almost as amazing as skin to skin.

  “That cat has no discrimination.” Novotny continued to complain, which was a relief. If he wasn’t pissing and moaning about one thing or another, I’d have thought he’d been taken over by pod people. “So long, Theo. I’ll see you on the weekend.”

  “You will?” I asked. Since they’d met back in April, they’d become friendly, which made me question Theo’s taste in friends. Okay, not really, but… Novotny?

  “Yeah.” Theo grinned at me. “We’re going antiquing. Bye, Gregor.”

  Novotny aimed his thumb and forefinger at Theo, then headed to the dining room.

  I was glad they got along—as much as he’d tried to hide it, Theo had been a lonely boy—but that was so cute it made me want to vomit.

  Theo met my gaze. “I brought along a set of plans for the Manor for you and Mr. Mann to take a look at.”

  “Thanks, Theo.” Quinn shook his hand. “I appreciate your help in everything.”

  “Hey, no prob. Any friend of Vince’s, you know? I’m… I’m sorry about your colleague. What they did to her was really cold.”

  Portia had probably told him about it, although I knew he read the newspapers. Back when he’d been a rent boy, when I’d lived in the attic apartment, I’d seen the newspapers he subscribed to. Many of his clients had been powerful men who worked on the Hill; it made sense for him to be up-to-date on current events.

  “Well, I’ve gotta go.” He kissed Portia’s cheek and pretty much bounced down the steps.

  “Excuse me a minute.” I handed the kitten to Quinn and followed Theo down the walk to where he was parked. “Theo.”

  “I really have to go. Gregor’s got everything under control, and frankly, he didn’t really need me here.”

  “You distracted him and Portia, didn’t you?”

  “Well, yes.”

  “They needed you here.”

  “Thank you. Uh… Vince. Wills should be home in a couple of hours, and I want to make him dinner.”

  “No, I won’t keep you. I want to know what I owe you.”

  He told me, and as I’d expected, it was a hefty tab. Not that I begrudged it. I’d give Quinn or Portia a kidney if they needed it. Novotny… well, hell. I’d go find one for him.

  I took my wallet from my pocket and peeled off a handful of bills, adding a couple of extra Benjamins for his time—the laborer being worthy of his hire.

  He stared at them. “Vince, this is way more than I spent.”

  “Maybe, but it’s what you’re gonna get, so shut up and put it in your pocket. Quinn said he appreciated it. So do I. You’re a good man.”

  Theo blushed bright red. “You’ve done so much for me and the boys…”

  “That’s what friends are for, right?”

  “Right.” He gnawed on his lower lip—if he bit it any harder, he was going to break the skin—and I could see he was still uncertain about accepting the extra cash I’d given him.

  “Look, use it to take Matheson to dinner.”

  Theo’s face lit up. “That’s a great idea! We can pretend I’m some rich guy who wants to seduce him into bed.”

  “No, no, no, I do not want to hear about what you do with my agent.”

  He burst into laughter, threw the arm that wasn’t cradling the Voodoo goddess around me, and hugged me. “We really lucked out the day you first moved into the attic,” he whispered.

  I patted his back, feeling a little awkward—before the rent boys and then Quinn, I’d never hugged anyone—and sent him on his way. He got in the car, set the doll and his mask on the seat beside him, and buckled up, then beeped the horn and waved.

  I waved myself and grinned as I watched his Corvair pull awa
y from the curb and drive down the street.

  He was marrying my agent, although their wedding next month was strictly for them. I wondered if that would work out all right. Marriage could be a tough row to hoe—all the people I knew were married to their jobs. For that matter, so was I, which was why I had so much vacation time banked. Being married was going to be even rougher for two gay men who couldn’t be legally married.

  I turned and jogged back up the walk.

  Except for the kitten, the foyer was deserted when I entered the house and closed the door behind me. Miss Priss was seated there, apparently waiting for me.

  “Hey, puss, where’d everyone go?”

  She rose sinuously and stropped her sides against my leg, leaving bits of fur on my trousers.

  “Thanks. I just got these back from the cleaners.”

  She didn’t seem too impressed by that. I nudged her aside so I could use the powder room, and she slipped in before I could close the door. God knew why she felt I needed her company to take a leak and wash my hands, but that was women for you. I picked her up when we exited the powder room.

  “What do you say we go find your brother?” I shook my head. Novotny was rubbing off on me. “Forget I said that.”

  She purred, and we went looking for Quinn.

  We found him at the back of the house, his hands in his pockets, looking out on the lush lawn that was bordered by the flower beds his mother had planted.

  “How’re you feeling, babe?” I asked.

  “Good, thanks to you.” He stroked his fingers over Miss Priss’s head.

  “What did I do?”

  “You saw to it I’m having one of my favorite meals. And in addition, you gave me back control of this day.”

  “You’re mine, right? I’m gonna take care of you.”

  “Mother and Gregor brought something back for us.”

  “Souvenirs?” That surprised me. No one had ever done that for me.

  “A couple of the outfits the riverboat offered for their costume night. Yours is black, mine is white. Wait until you see them.” He seemed really pleased.

  “I look forward to it.” I set the kitten down. “Now, I missed lunch. If dinner is ready, I could do with something to eat.”

  “Of course.” Quinn slung his arm around my waist and I looped mine across his shoulders, and we made our way to the dining room.

  ~*~

  IT WAS AN enjoyable meal, and by mutual, unspoken consent, the conversation didn’t touch on the day’s events. Instead, Portia and Novotny told us what they’d seen on their cruise and the costume party held on the night the riverboat turned to make the return journey back to New Orleans.

  Novotny flushed a little. “I dressed as a plantation owner, and Portia—” His flush turned a darker red.

  “I dressed as his… companion.” She smiled, leaving no doubt as to the sort of companion she’d been, and reached across to rest her fingertips on the back of his hand.

  I couldn’t blame her; it was always more fun to portray the ladies and gentlemen of the evening.

  “I hope you have photos,” Quinn said.

  “Yeah. I definitely want to see them.”

  I pictured Quinn in the outfit Portia had selected for him. He’d be dressed as a riverboat gambler, wearing a brocade vest covered with fleur-de-lis, white linen shirt, and string tie, a little derringer tucked in his boot, while I’d sit there with a black hat tipped back on my head. Quinn would be watching me as I pretended to study the cards he’d dealt me, but I’d actually be studying him and planning on how to get him to bet a night in his bed as part of the pot.

  All in all, it was a hell of a lot better than having to talk about what went down that day because of the fucking administration.

  IV

  AFTER WE’D FINISHED with dinner, Quinn and I cleared off the table so Novotny could catch his breath—everyone could use a vacation from their vacation once they got home. Not me, but then I didn’t go on vacation.

  Unless it was with Quinn. I couldn’t help smiling for a minute, thinking about the week I’d spent with him on my Island of Sheer Delight off the Atlantic Coast of Costa Rica.

  Hmm. It might be a good idea to return there to give him a break. We could fish, screw, swim, screw. Screw….

  “What are you grinning about?” Quinn asked.

  “I was just thinking about taking you back to my island.”

  “I’d like that, but can you get away?”

  “Hey, HR is always looking for excuses for me to use up all the time I have banked.”

  “How much time do you have?

  “About a year.” And each year it increased.

  “Mark?” He looked cute when he wore a stunned expression.

  I shrugged. “That’s not including sick time.” The WBIS was generous when it came to sick time and let us roll it over, so each year, in spite of the time I took off to be with Quinn, it multiplied.

  “Yes, but…”

  “I’m healthy—”

  “Unless you’re getting shot.”

  “That wasn’t my fault, Mann.”

  “Of course not.”

  “Well, it wasn’t,” I groused.

  “How long will we be away?”

  “As long as you want.”

  He gave it some consideration. “A week?”

  “A week, two, three, the rest of our lives.”

  He brushed a kiss across the corner of my mouth. “Thank you.”

  I caught him before he could move away, pulled him into my arms, and tipped his chin up.

  “Mark?” My name came out a husky whisper. God, I loved the way it sounded when he said it.

  I licked my lips and lowered my head so I could drop sipping kisses on his mouth.

  He hummed his pleasure, and I did a little humming myself when he closed his fingers over a handful of my ass. Then he grazed his fingertips along my ass crack, and I groaned into his mouth.

  He ran the fingers of his other hand through my hair. “We’d better get the kitchen straightened out.”

  “If you insist.”

  “The sooner we get this done, the sooner we can check out the floorplans for the Manor.”

  “You’re that anxious?”

  “What I’m anxious to do is go home and spend the night making love.”

  One last kiss, and I set him away from me. “You drive a hard bargain, Mann.”

  “Hard being the operative word?” He danced away before I could pull him back into my arms, and I couldn’t help chuckling.

  While I dealt with the dishes, Quinn made coffee and set up a couple of trays, one with cups, saucers, and silverware, and the other with sugar and cream and the baklava Theo had made.

  “I haven’t had much contact with Theo, but he’s an amazing cook,” Quinn said.

  I looked over my shoulder in time to catch him stealing a piece of baklava, and I swallowed a grin. “Yeah. He’s a good friend too.”

  This was only the third time Quinn and Theo had been in the same vicinity. Mostly Portia took care of the details about the house.

  I angled the last pot on the lower rack of the dishwasher.

  “Did you ever…” Quinn abruptly looked uncomfortable. He worried his lower lip. “Never mind. It’s not my business.”

  “Sure it is. What did you want to know, babe? Did I ever have sex with Theo? No.” I wasn’t surprised Quinn had never asked before. He was a classy guy who probably figured my past relationships were just that—in the past. I’d have told him if he’d wanted to know, but the thing was, I hadn’t done relationships, not until him. “Paul, though…”

  “He’s the one you went out to Los Angeles to help.”

  “Yeah. I owed him.” I shoved the rack in place and closed the dishwasher door.

  He cocked his head to one side. He was interested, that was obvious, but it was equally obvious he wouldn’t press for details, so I gave him the bare bones.

  “It was in ’93.”

  “Ah. It had
to do with the loss of your partner.”

  God, he was so smart. “Yeah, but more than that…” I drew in a breath. This was the first time I’d ever mentioned it to anyone. “Something happened down there. It’s… I don’t know… kind of like a physical memory my body has, although my mind is completely out to lunch about what it could have been. If that makes any kind of sense?”

  “Does this have anything to do with the fact you always want an unopened bottle of club soda? And if that’s unavailable, you get your drink yourself?”

  I shrugged. “I never gave it much thought.” I actually gave it as little thought as possible. “But you could have a point.”

  “Did you ever look into it?” Quinn came up behind me, wrapped his arms around my torso, and pressed a kiss to the back of my neck.

  “See a shrink, you mean? No.” I grinned at him over my shoulder. “I saw Paul instead.”

  “And it never went beyond that.” Not a question, because if it had, Quinn believed I wouldn’t have had sex with anyone else while we’d been together.

  I shook my head. “Paul’s a good man, but frankly, I’m too old for him.”

  “You’re not too old for me,” he murmured against my neck.

  No, I wasn’t. There were only about three years between us, while I was thirteen years older than Paul. “Anyway, he’s happier with Spike than he would have been with me.”

  “It’s just as well. As you say, he’s a good man. I wouldn’t have wanted to kill him.”

  “Huh?”

  He turned me around and raised an eyebrow, and I realized what he was driving at—he considered me his, and he wouldn’t have let Paul keep me.

  I grinned and shook my head again. Quinn and his belief in “the one.” But I had to admit I liked it. I couldn’t understand how it happened he felt that way about me, but I had no intention of questioning it.

  “All set, babe?”

  “Yep.”

  He let me go and stepped back, and I dried my hands, hung up the dish towel, and snatched a piece of baklava for myself. Miss Priss watched me with her big blue eyes that meant she wasn’t a purebred Maine Coon cat. Not that it mattered. She was pretty, and Portia loved her. I stooped and held out my fingers, and she licked off the honey.