"God, this place is so beautiful," Luke confided as Noah drove a Jeep down the main island road.
When Noah left their driver at the airport, Luke had teased him about Freud having a few theories about his need to call the shots.
"Yeah, and I've got a few theories about Freud," Noah had responded, dropping into the Jeep.
It was impossible not to take in the scenery through Luke's eyes as he chattered and pointed out landmarks that in the past Noah had taken for granted. Tall palms swayed along the roadside, and tropical flowers flashed out of the undergrowth as they sped past.
"You've brought me to paradise."
Noah smiled to himself, finally comfortable with where this relationship was going.
Luke had shied a little on the seaplane, putting on a bit of a performance. But Noah wouldn't have expected any less from the explosive personality inhabiting Luke. He realized he enjoyed that about Luke - the unpredictability. His own life was usually so ordered. He didn't mind accommodating Luke's eccentricities.
Outside in the late-day sunshine, with the fresh air whipping his blonde hair into a frenzy, Luke seemed to have shrugged off his insecurities and was now embracing the experience.
Noah was determined to make Luke happy. It pained him to see evidence of such a heavy weight in Luke's eyes, as if the load he was carrying had been with him far too long. Noah suspected it was to do with that jail bird of a father. If it was up to him, Noah would tell Luke to cut all ties with Damian Grimaldi just as Noah had done with his own father years ago. But he didn't feel he'd known Luke long enough and Luke would more than likely reject the suggestion.
He'd known ever since their night together that Luke wasn't quite the hard-headed little mover and shaker those reports had painted the blonde out to be.
As they circled the island resort hotel, Noah watched some of the animation leave Luke. It wasn't Noah's favorite place either. A world-famous destination sure enough. But as they reached this part of the island, they might as well not have left Los Angeles. The resort dripped with the same glamour and elitism, with groups of women in couture beach wear and jewelry, and men driving low-slung ego-extension cars.
"If you prefer we can stay here," Noah commented as they cruised past the ostentatious entrance. "But I've got a place on the beach. It's a lot more private."
Luke gave Noah a small smile. "I'd prefer that."
Unable to contain how good he felt, Noah increased the Jeep's speed; and they shot down the beach road, heading up and over the rise. He heard Luke catch his breath as they plunged into a tropical rain forest.
"Wow!" he gasped. As if to verify his word, a brightly plumed bird swooped through the green canopy of tree branches above them.
Noah's bungalow was located in a colony - one of several private homes along this exclusive stretch of east coast beachfront. He had designed it himself with a local architect, the focus being on bringing the tropical forest right up to the doorstep and the ocean into the west-facing rooms.
Luke was quiet as he looked around before turning his companion. "This is a great place, Noah."
"Not too modern?"
Luke shook his head. "It's perfect."
"Just... your father's house is pretty old-school. Guess I thought that was your style, too."
Some of the animation slipped away from Luke's face. "My father wanted me to have that house."
"You could sell it, you know, if it's causing you so much stress."
Luke turned away. Noah followed him through the dining area and out to the rear of the house, where windows gave way to the ocean.
He closed an arm around Luke's waist startling the blonde, as if he'd already become unused to Noah's touch. It made Noah feel even more possessive. He found himself surrounding Luke, wanting to put himself front and center in Luke's life. He put it down to never accepting second place.
Luke removed Noah's hands and walked away.
"Why don't you sell it?" Noah abruptly asked.
Luke shrugged his shoulders.
The gesture frustrated Noah. He thought about the fact that in a couple of hours he'd be sitting down to dinner with film industry counterparts, who also happened to be old friends of his. His somewhat brutal earlier thoughts had been that Luke could entertain himself, and Noah would get away as soon as he could. But the men would be bringing their wives. Luke's remark - I'm not a toy for you to play with - nudged Noah.
The problem was if he took Luke the blonde would be privy to his plans for the studio before the news broke to the press. He tried to picture Luke as a media leak but all he could see was Luke's sleepy, sexy eyes when he'd climbed on top of Noah in the early hours of their morning together and taken Noah almost shyly into his warm body. Those little cries of completion as Luke had reached his peak had made Noah feel like a god. He recalled how amazing it had felt afterwards, when Luke had fallen asleep in his arms.
Noah groaned in frustration and ran a hand through his hair. "We're meeting some friends of mine for dinner at eight," he said gruffly. "I've arranged to have some clothes sent over from the resort for you. I guess you'll find them in the wardrobe."
Luke turned and smiled at him. "Thank you, that was nice of you."
Noah almost laughed. This Luke didn't put up a fight about.
Except Luke had been fighting Noah ever since he'd climbed out of his bed back at the penthouse. Noah didn't understand him. He didn't understand himself, when he was around Luke. When he'd put Luke into that stunt car he'd only been thinking about one night.
But ever since that morning, all he'd been thinking about was how soon they could be together again.
He came up behind Luke at the glass doors leading onto the deck.
The flight had been long. Even now he could see the faint shadows under Luke's eyes. He considered leaving Luke to rest, to give him some space. But it wasn't just about giving Luke space, Noah acknowledged. He cared about Luke's feelings. He wanted to make things easy on him.
"Noah, the ocean is right on the doorstep!"
"It just seems that way," Noah assured him. "It's the perspective. There's actually a good 20 feet between the foundations and the surf, and this stretch of water is effectively a lagoon. It doesn't rise and fall much."
"It's beautiful," Luke said, looking up at him with an open face; and Noah smiled a little because Luke clearly cared nothing for the logistics and everything for the magic of it.
And wasn't that how Luke seemed to live his life? All the emotion and none of the practicality.
Noah couldn't resist stroking Luke's hair. Everything about the man was touchable: and, yes, Noah wanted to know Luke better.
"Yeah, it is beautiful," he responded in a somewhat husky voice as he framed Luke's face with one hand. At last Luke opened up enough to allow Noah to kiss him. "Second only to you."
He tasted Luke - the softness of his lips, the sweetness of his breath - and the magic happened all over again.
He was taking Luke to dinner; and that was that!
~.~
"What the hell is this?"
Noah held a neutral expression as Luke emerged from the master bedroom, a tiny scrap of red leather thong dangling from his finger. Noah had rung the housekeeper during the flight over from LA; and told her to get some clothes on approval from several resort boutiques, giving a vague approximation of size and stressing sexy.
The helpful women at the boutiques had clearly interpreted this as less is more. Noah wasn't complaining...in the least.
Luke stood in the doorway looking unimpressed, although Noah did detect a tiny quiver about Luke's mouth that told him Luke was trying to stifle a laugh.
He looked sensational in smart jeans and a cool cotton button-down - open at the neck. It was the neckline that held Noah's attention. Noah's mouth suddenly went dry.
He cleared his throat. "You don't have to wear it," he assured Luke. "You're your own person, Luke. I'd never try to dictate your wardrobe. Just be yourself."
Luke's lips parted slightly. "I am being myself."
Noah plucked the leather piece from Luke's hand. "Then there's no problem. Even if you would look great in this."
"Well, that's good then," Luke smirked. "Since tonight I've decided to go commando."
Noah's mind went blank.
"You look very smart," Luke said with a lift of his brows.
Struggling to get himself under control, Noah rasped. "It's the tailoring."
A little smile sat at the corner of Luke's mouth, as if he was very well aware of what was happening within the darkness of Noah's trousers. "Shall we go?"
~.~
The restaurant was open-air, with tables set up on the sand illuminated by several lit torches. The rhythm of local Sega music wafted through as a backdrop; blending with the sound of the waves.
Luke sipped his iced water, too nervous to risk a glass of champagne.
On the charity circuit, he was always working a room; getting people to like him; and responding long enough to open their check books.
Tonight though held a different battle plan. He wasn't sure of the rules at all on this playing field.
Their large table was filled with several couples: various personalities from the movie-making world along with one retired director, Mel Brooks, so famous even Luke instantly recognized him.
This was Noah's world, cut throat and glamorous. Luke wasn't quite sure how to take the scene. But amidst the thumping testosterone-fueled talk about commercial deals and television rights, he became quickly aware Noah was talking about starting something big.
His assessment was confirmed when one of the wives leaned over and whispered, "We need to form our own studio - at least then we might be a viable part of this conversation."
A studio?
One by one the pieces fell into place.
Noah's going to start producing movies out of his own studio.
So...this was why Noah was so news shy. This was why he'd cancelled their date. Yet here Luke sat, at this table, privy to the big secret plans.
He couldn't understand why, but Luke felt a frisson of unease.
Seeking reassurance, he flashed his gaze up to Noah beside him. The director's body language was relaxed - shoulders loose, open. He was
fully himself among his friends, in his element.
This was nothing like Luke had built up in his mind. Noah wasn't treating him like some rich man's arm candy. That image had proved to be the product of Luke's own insecurities.
It was clear in this company that when Noah went private it was because he needed to be. Everything he publicly said was weighed and measured. But with his friends, Noah transformed into this relaxed. good-humored man.
His thick black lashes were screening the full impact of his eyes. Even though Noah was listening to his friend, Luke knew Noah's attention was on him. It had been all along.
As if sensing the shift in his thoughts, Noah lifted his lashes and there were his intense blue eyes. Luke found his pulse was fluttering wildly out of control. Noah was looking at him as if Luke was naked under him in bed.
The hum of conversation died away replaced by an incredible stillness. It seemed to happen between them again and again - his eyes and Luke's heartbeat and that elemental force that shook Luke when he was in Noah's arms. Only his arms. Only him.
What was going on? Luke couldn't fall so far and so fast for this man.
Almost ready to rip himself free from the spell Noah cast, he reminded himself that Noah was a public figure because of his job, and he was about to enter into a new phase of his career.
Did Luke really want to be the man in Noah's life? To face that sort of intrusion into his own personal life?
"Luke Snyder," said one of the women, her voice a little too loud. "I knew that name sounded familiar."
All of a sudden Luke's musings ground to a halt. In that instant, he felt Noah's hand close over his under the table.
"Sorry?"
"The Alabama Equestrian Games, right? It was so long again, but I remember you and that great round you had."
Luke released a hurried breath. "Ah, yes - a few years ago now."
"I jumped myself," she continued. "My family breed Arabians."
Luke felt Noah's hand turning his over, his fingers finding those calluses on Luke's palm.
All of a sudden Luke felt horribly exposed, and he didn't quite know how. Pulling his hand away would be the first step to getting up and walking out.
But Luke was done with running for the nearest exit at the first sign of trouble. It didn't serve him. So he mastered his nerves and continued to
smile at the woman. To answer questions. To discuss the relative merits of each breed.
Couples were dancing around them, when Noah suddenly pushed back his chair, interrupting the woman's constant chatter. He got up and offered Luke his hand.
"What a brilliant idea," volunteered another women sitting at the table.
Luke followed Noah into the throng of dancers - and the moment he was in Noah's arms Noah caught one of his hands and turned it palm-side up. Luke resisted the urge to pull his hand away - he let Noah examine it.
"Why didn't you tell me about these?" Noah didn't sound accusing, just genuinely surprised.
"You never asked."
"You're right. I haven't asked. But I'm asking now."
Luke tugged his hand away and Noah let him. "They bother you?" Luke asked, "the calluses? They've not exactly perfect movie-world hands now, are they?"
"Not at all." Noah put his hands around Luke's waist, drew him close. "They're capable hands."
Luke leaned in against him. "My Dad, Holden, I mean, called them my gift."
"Your gift?" Noah prompted.
"I took part in horse shows. Rode horses in dressage and show trials. I was quite good."
"How good?"
"Good enough." Luke felt slightly awkward. "International standard."
Noah stopped swaying to the music. He was looking at Luke as if Luke had just said he once had two heads.
"I've surprised you," Luke said, a little more crisply.
"You've impressed me," he slowly said. "But you said you rode, in the past tense. Why did you give it up?"
"I had an accident. It's made any sustained time difficult in the saddle." Luke hated this part. It was the reason he never talked about it. People either felt sorry for him or dismissed it as a minor disappointment.
Both rankled. Almost in sympathy he felt the echo of phantom pains in his hips.
"How did it happen?" Noah's voice was low, and it was easy to forget they were technically on a dance floor, albeit a sandy one. It was as if they were in their own private world.
"I was 16. I came down over a jump, and so did the horse. He landed on me."
Noah stilled.
"I survived - obviously. It took several surgeries and a lot of physio, but I'm able to ride for recreation at least."
"How long were you in recovery?"
"Two years."
Luke watched as Noah absorbed the information.
"Those marks on your hips?" he said a little roughly.
Luke's eyes darted to Noah's. He'd noticed. They were so faint. Did he find them off-putting?
"We all have scars, don't we?" Luke said slowly. "It's part of life."
Noah surprised him by sliding his hands subtly onto his hips. "You hide yours very well." he said.
"What about you?" Luke challenged. "Where are your scars?"
Noah looked Luke in the eye. "I wear them for the world to see," he answered. "They are in every one of my films."
Luke almost seized the moment to ask Noah about his new project, but Noah bent down and said in his ear, "And your old man? Is he really a gigolo?"
Luke pulled his arms free and went to walk away, but Noah held him tightly around the waist.
"Touchy, aren't we?"
Luke flashed a glare at him and said tightly, "He's the best on the block."
"There you go," Noah said lightly. "Not so hard talking about it, was it?"
"Have you finished?"
"I'm just wondering," he said, continuing to sway lightly with Luke to the music. "How many other secrets you're hiding?"
Luke looked away. "Nothing that could possibly interest you."
"On the contrary, Luke, I have a feeling it's all going to interest me. Come on - we'll wrap this dinner up."
"Why? Where are we going?"
"Where do you think?"