Like Dylan engaging in The Look, as if he returned the attraction.
Tyler and his boyfriend had taken a backseat to Alec’s more pressing concerns. Despite his previous promise, Dylan was a wild card. Who knew what the man would pull? Even worse, how was Alec supposed to engage in small talk when all he could think about was that imagined heat in Dylan’s eyes?
Dylan pressed the doorbell, and the door opened.
“Finally,” Noah said, gripping them both by an elbow and pulling them into the marble foyer. “I’m glad you’re here.” In the large living room beyond, people milled about in cocktail dresses and suits.
Noah leaned in, whispering conspiratorially. “FYI. Tyler brought that sweet piece of ass of his. And, sweetie”—Noah shot Alec a sympathetic look—“Logan is gorgeous. Everyone adores him. Did you know he produces documentaries and won a Sundance Film Festival award?”
“So what?” Dylan replied, tossing a casual arm around Alec’s shoulders, and every cell in Alec’s body hummed happily. “Alec has me and a sex swing.”
Alec’s body went from humming to buzzing in alarm, and Noah let out bark of laughter.
“Christ, I need a drink,” Alec mumbled.
“You’ll need several.” Noah winced. “Some of the talk revolves around how Tyler replaced you so quickly…”
At this point, who cares?
“No worries. I’ve got this.” Dylan steered Alec into the living room.
The next hour passed in a tense montage of guests coming by to congratulate Alec on the award, and he smiled and thanked them, introducing Dylan. Dylan, for his part, behaved. And while he didn’t do the small talk Noah’s usual crowd enjoyed, conversations revolving around art and theatre and overseas vacations, Dylan had won over just about every guest that stopped by. Including Jack Davis.
As a member of the board at Charity Regional Hospital, he was one of the richest men in the Bay Area and had come to the party accompanied by his wife. Dylan had told a joke that just skirted the edges of raunchy, and Sylvia Davis had laughed so hard Alec feared she’d undo all the Botox work she’d clearly had done.
Dylan’s easy, earthy charm—not to mention the good looks begging to be plastered across advertising billboards—won him the hearts of most of the women and quite a few of the men. Even Jack Davis, a codgery old bastard most people avoided, had liked Dylan.
Just when Alec was beginning to think he had the night in the bag, reality returned with a bitchy vengeance when he caught sight of his ex’s jet-black hair.
“Alec,” Tyler called smoothly from across the room. He placed his hand behind the blond-haired man at his side as they made their way in Alec’s direction. “Good to see you.”
The buzz of conversation around them dropped several decibels. Every guest studied the two during his ex’s approach, as if expecting—hoping?—for an embarrassing scene.
Dylan must have noticed. “Goddamn vultures,” he murmured as he threw his arm across Alec’s shoulders again.
Unfortunately, the rubbernecking taking place made the comparison just a little too accurate.
Dylan pulled Alec closer, leaning in to whisper at his ear. “Remember, don’t let him get to you.” Dylan’s warm breath sent goose bumps fanning down Alec’s neck. “You only have eyes for me.”
God, it was enough to make sweet baby Jesus cry.
“I’m fine,” Alec whispered firmly.
Except for the part that involved Dylan touching him.
Alec tried to put some much-needed space between them, but Dylan’s arm held fast as Tyler drew closer. Alec attempted a smile, painfully aware of the hard bicep pressed against his shoulder, the scent of man and spicy musk and something he couldn’t quite identify.
When the two men stopped in front of him, Alec said, “You remember Dylan?”
Tyler’s cool gaze landed on Dylan. “Of course.”
The two shook hands and seemed to be sizing each other up. Jockeying for position. Preparing for confrontation. Tyler’s iron control matched up against Dylan’s little boy, poke-it-with-a-stick-to-get-a-reaction style. A pounding throb set up house behind Alec’s right eye.
“This is Logan,” Tyler said.
Alec reached out and shook Logan’s hand. “Nice to see you again.”
Dylan’s hand on Alec’s shoulder shifted possessively to the back of Alec’s neck, like a high school football player might grip his girlfriend, claiming his territory. Alec used to hate the jocks with their cocky bluster and swagger and territorial nature. With Dylan, the posture was strangely thrilling. Alec suppressed a sigh.
Christ. When had he morphed into a teenage girl? And how could he focus with Dylan’s thumb stroking his skin?
“I heard about the Sundance Film Festival award, Logan,” Alec went on. “Congratulations.”
“I’ve been lucky.”
Logan wore a genuine smile, and Alec should probably resent his ex’s new boyfriend for being so nice.