Page 18 of In Frame
He pictured Leo’s eyes, green and brown as springtime forests: new to kissing a man but unafraid. Expressing every over-the-top emotion, but also hiding behind all the expression. Multifaceted. A puzzle.
Complicated.Noteasy.
But he wanted to see those eyes again, to touch Leo again.
He’d never have that. He’d only had tonight. He’d seen that Leo was well, looking happy, shining on a movie screen.
The young man, now regarding him with approval—had the blatant flirtatious once-over been some sort of test?—said, “He asked us to come and find you? I apologize for taking so long; he gave us a decent description, but this is quite a crowd?” and then lifted eyebrows at Sam expectantly, as if this ought tomake sense.
“Um,” Sam tried, politely. “Who would that be?”
The young man seemed perplexed. “Er…Leo? Leo Whyte? Sorry, were you not expecting to see him? He seemed to think you would be? He’s waiting just round the back, where you’ll get the limo?”
Leo. Leo Whyte. Wanting to see him. Sending obliging minions out to find him. Waiting for him. With a limousine.
Leo, who Sam’d kissed and walked away from in a Las Vegas night; who Sam had kissed because he couldn’t stand the thought of Leo feeling unwanted a single second longer, and had left because he wasn’t the right man for that, the kind of man Leo Whyte deserved—
Leo, who’d been so wonderful tonight. In the film, bringing Lieutenant Harper’s love and loyalty and battle-courage to life. And on stage, bringing laughter to the entire theatre, giving the world that gift.
Someone should say that. Should tell Leo that. How incredible he was. How much he mattered. Someone needed to put it into words for Leo to hear.
The sympathetic red plush under his feet suggested that that person should be Sam. That he should follow this path, walk right along it, until he found neatly styled dark blond hair and hazel eyes and tempting lips at the end.
He wasn’t going to kiss Leo again. For all he knew, Leo Whyte wanted to yell at him. For turning up here; for interfering; for coming within photographic distance of their tight-knit group of friends. That’d make some sort of sense, he figured.
But still: he’d get to see Leo. And a tiny butterfly spread wings and did a hop inside his chest, wanting to fly.
He squared his shoulders under his rented suit-jacket, beneath opulent lights. “Show me where to go.”
Chapter 2: After-party
The where in question turned out to be behind the theater: an alleyway currently being lurked in by a sleek black means of star-conveyance. Leo Whyte, jacket removed, stood there leaning on the open back door like a moment out of classic Hollywood: glamorous good looks, chiseled cheekbones, rolled up sleeves and studied casual pose.
Sam wanted to kiss him. Sam wanted to unbutton that springtime-pink shirt and find out how Leo looked, felt, tasted, all over. Sam wanted—
So much. More than he should. More than he deserved.
Leo smiled at him, playing up the moment like a shot on a film set, and swept a dramatic hand at the limo. “My turn to abduct you, isn’t it?”
“It’s not a kidnapping if I’m willing.” A step closer. Two. More. Somewhere in those steps he’d made a decision. This night, like his previous night with Leo, was a mirage, an illusion, an enchantment out of one of those romance-fantasy novels his sisters loved; he could have the dream because it wasn’t real. He could play along. Could pretend he belonged right here.
He touched Leo’s hand, where it dangled against a polished car door. The less polished real-life back wall of a theater watched over them. The night was cool and crisp, and the ground was hard under his feet. “You were wonderful. Your movie.”
“Of course I was,” Leo said lightly, though his fingers brushed Sam’s and curled around and held on briefly. “I did think I’d seen you in the crowd before we all went in. I hoped I had.”
Straight to the point, unflinching; that was Leo, Sam thought. And the thought made him smile: Leo would say exactly what was on his mind, no disguise or deception, andwould take the world’s reaction for what it was, whether that meant amusement or dismissal or appreciation.
He got into the limo. He had not, in fact, ever been in a limousine before, and said so. Might as well. Honesty for honesty, in this magic spell.
Leo raised eyebrows at him. A bottle of champagne appeared from nowhere, as did two glasses. “Then we’re celebrating. So many firsts. Yours and mine. If you’d like to ride around for a bit I can have the driver take us anywhere. By which I mean anywhere in London. Under the sea might be a bit more complicated.”
Sam laughed. Bubbles slid over his tongue, into his chest, into his heart.
“We’re going to my place,” Leo said, watching him. “If that’s all right.”
“Your place?”
“Unless you’d rather not?”
