"Your guy has quite a media profile of his own, you know?" Blake Rutherson's voice came busily over the speaker-phone.
Noah strolled naked across the vast bedroom of his penthouse apartment, toweling dry his hair. He'd dealt with Luke's "no, not Paris" by deciding it only proved to show Luke as being different in the way Noah's feelings confirmed. Noah was confident that, although it might take a few dates with Luke, he'd eventually get Luke right where he wanted him. In bed.
Noah liked this new goal.
Hearing crickets on the other end, Blake pressed on from Noah, Blake continued on with his summary fact sheet on Luke's father, now a guest of the California Department of Corrections. "His father's banged up in The Towers. The trial was public... All over the newspapers... Grimaldi's double-dealings were finally uncovered when he tried to defraud some washed-up actress out of her savings. At least it had a snow ball effect at getting him taken down for good."
Noah neatly hung the wet towel on the heated rack and checked the time on the clock on the bedside table.
"Why... the son doesn't even work for that charity!"
"Yes, he does," Noah corrected. ."Just doesn't draw a salary."
"True. Doesn't do much of anything in fact. And by the looks of things this kid's in some serious financial trouble. Not to mention he's had a string of dead-beat boyfriends. I'm sorry Noah, but I think you've been targeted."
Noah was caught off guard. "You're imagining things, Blake," he called into the phone.
"Just doing my job. You can't afford the bad press with this one, Noah. Especially if Snyder turns out to be the gold digger I believe him to be."
"You think everybody I see is a gold digger." Noah muttered under his breath. "Just worry about setting up the press conferences on the new company, Blake. I'll handle Luke. Are we clear?"
"Crystal."
Noah cut the call, running a hand through his damp hair. He didn't want to believe that Blake might be right. So Luke had a rocky past. So did he. It would be even more suspicious if Luke didn't have a past at all.
Noah stood over his suit, laid out over the bed - the suit he'd pictured Luke pressing his lithe body against as Noah danced with him, resting his hand on that sweet place at the bottom of Luke's spine.
But instead that hand lay at the back of his neck, rubbing at the knot of tension he could feel gathering there.
String of boyfriends. Noah pictured Luke in the arms of another man, and another. The knot in his neck grew tighter as another formed in his heart. It hurt suddenly when he breathed and he coughed to clear the obstruction.
You're being stupid!
If Luke was really only after Noah's money, wouldn't he have jumped at the chance to fly to Paris?
Finding that thought reassuring, Noah retreated to the bathroom, palmed his electric razor; and went to work on his stubble.
Noah knew a gold digger when one was hanging off his arm. He was accustomed to men with agendas. Years ago, when he'd still been virgin to the limelight, a young banking heir had decided he wanted a director. Noah was 20 years old, idealistic and he'd made all kinds of promises to the man. Not of marriage - that would have been naive - but Noah had imagined what it would take to ensure the man's fidelity. Noah's so-called partner had slept around on him from the beginning. When they'd broken up he'd hit the media with the credentials of a seasoned self-promoter.
It was the origin of most of the stories about Noah. His ex boyfriend spread wild rumors of Noah's infidelity, citing men Noah had never even met. Gavin's trash-rag profile was so high that it assured widespread gossip. The media soon became insatiable for stories about Noah, who fed into it by never staying with one person for very long. He had no illusions about the negative side of publicity, about its affect on his attempts to lead a semi-normal existence; and especially about the men who hustled their way into his busy life.
Yet here Noah was, deluding himself...
The razor dropped into the basin and he let it buzz there uselessly, leaning the heels of his hands on the sink and eyeing himself in the mirror.
If Blake was right, the Luke was a man deliberately searching out somebody who could be of financial benefit, bluntly put. . . a Sugar Daddy.
Did Luke lie at the hotel? Did he know who I was all along?
Noah dryly laughed. He'd been here so many times it was like a stuck record. In the old days, he would have just taken what was on offer and ignored the fallout. But he had more to protect this time around. Because right now, with his production company starting up, he was going to have to do things differently.
His expression hardened. He knew what he had to do. He just didn't want to do it. But he couldn't just sleep with Luke and then dump him. Sure, he'd been ruthless in past relationships, but he wasn't a bastard where it wasn't deserved.
He snagged his cell before he could change his mind and put through a call.
Luke answered after several rings. "Hi, Noah." His voice sounded lilting, husky, inviting Noah in.
For a moment, Noah forgot all his misgivings. He was back on the side of that busy city street, the fear he felt as Luke dodged speeding traffic, watching Luke standing lost by his car as two burly men prepared to tow it away.
Again, Noah felt that strange feeling like something about Luke was familiar even as he knew that nothing about Luke was familiar.
No, you have to do this!
"I'm calling to cancel," he said bluntly.
There was a silence.
"It was a bad idea. I've got a lot of work on and I can't give you the time you deserve." Noah knew these lines by heart. "I'm sorry if I messed up your night."
He waited for the explosion. In his experience, a gold digger type never remained calm at this point.
"You couldn't have worked that out last night?" Luke didn't sound angry. He sounded genuinely at a loss, his voice almost uncertain.
Noah hesitated. He was remembering he'd seen a lot of other things in Luke Snyder's expressive eyes. Things he couldn't think about now or they'd undermine what was the right decision to make. . .the only decision.
"I did," he admitted. "You're gorgeous, Luke. I let that distract me." He let that sink in. "But, like I said, it's a busy time."
"I distracted you?" Luke's tone had cooled to match Noah's. "Are you in a habit of asking men who don't distract you to dinner, Noah? I mean, isn't that the whole point?"
Noah breathed out. "Okay, look... The reality is you're got a media profile. And that's not going to work for me."
There was a flat, astonished silence.
"Let me see if I understand this," Luke said slowly. "You no longer want to take me to dinner because you've read something about me in the press?"
"No," he said flatly. "I don't want to take you to dinner because I don't want to read about me in the press."
He knew Luke had understood his meaning because there was a pregnant pause. "Is this about Damian?" Luke asked, in a stiff voice Noah didn't quite recognize as Luke's. "Because I would think news articles would be something you'd be used to by now."
Noah heard a note of that desperation Luke had displayed on the street with his car; felt the give of his tightly-leashed control; and the threatened spill of emotions and desires to which he refused to surrender. Something about the way Luke kept going, revealing himself so openly, reminded Noah how unable to protect himself Luke had seemed just one day earlier. It made everything so intensely personal - and it was working against Noah's usual detachment.
He focused on pulling his emotions back. He was good at that. Reining it in. Being single-minded. He reminded himself it had been a long two days, and this other man had contributed to some of that length with his theatrics.
"No, Luke. This isn't about your father. This is about who you are. How you behave. There are things about you I can't have in my life right now. I made a mistake." He emphasized those last words; wanting the conversation to end.
His words echoed back at him, the harshness of the message he was giving made him flinch even though he'd given other men the brush-off. Blunt always worked, and the only casualty of this would probably be a small section of Luke's ego.
"Sure. You're a busy man." This time the heat in Luke's voice was unmistakable. "How inconvenient of me to distract you from what's important. Here I was, thinking you were different. But you're just a typical man, aren't you? Like all the rest." Luke's voice caught. "And not a very nice one."
The line went dead.
Noah dumped the phone with frustration. For a moment he felt Luke in his arms again, the warmth of him, the deliciousness. He saw the way Luke's tilted eyes grew round when he was uncertain. It was that uncertainty Noah had heard threaded through Luke's voice just now, and for a moment he knew he'd hurt more than Luke's ego.
He suddenly considered the alternative that Luke might have been genuine. That the witty, surprisingly refreshing man he'd talked to in the kitchen was the genuine article. And he, Noah, had just thrown that all away.
He dismissed that thought.
Luke was right. He wasn't a nice man. In his profession, he couldn't afford to be. He couldn't afford to take risks. He needed to forget Luke and get his focus back.
Noah dressed, made the calls necessary to bring together the people who could make things happen for the launch of his new venture - his own production company. That would keep his mind off the sick twist of pain lingering in his gut.