Prince of the Playhouse by Tara Lain Page A

a dog feeder.”
    Ru dished the human food from its takeout containers onto his white plates—cheap but chic—then walked into the small dining area and set out place mats and flatware. He gestured to the seat and Gray sat. Holy Mother, Gray Anson in his dining room. “Do you like wine?”
    “Sure.”
    “Red okay?”
    “Absolutely.”
    Ru poured two glasses of a pinot noir he’d opened the previous night and delivered the glasses, then grabbed his own plate and sat across from Gray. Flopsy and Mopsy came from the kitchen, licking their lips, and lay down on either side of Ru’s chair.
    Gray raised his glass and held it out to Ru. “To choices.”
    Ru clicked glasses. “I’ll drink to that.”
    “So Hamlet ’s that important to your career?”
    Ru forked in mashed potatoes and closed his eyes briefly in homage.
    “Good?”
    “Oh yeah. My kingdom for Rick’s garlic mashed.”
    “Wrong play.”
    “Yes. Poor Richard.”
    “So about Hamlet ?”
    “Oh yes, I guess. I mean, every critic on earth will come to see you, so they can’t help but see me. It’ll be great publicity.”
    “Way to give a guy the willies.”
    “You’re going to be fabulous, trust me.” Ru chewed slowly. Divine salmon, moist and loaded with garlic butter. Should I say it? Hell. He looked down at his plate. “Of course, the costumes will up my public awareness, but real credibility comes from commissions like your fiancée’s wedding dress. Penelope has both the society connections and the Hollywood connections. To a fashion designer, that’s gold times two.” He looked up as Gray downed a huge mouthful of pinot, coughed, and caught some drops of wine on his napkin.
    “Uh—Ru, would it be really bad—I mean, uh, I never exactly asked—I don’t know when we’re really getting married. Will it set you back a lot to not have that commission? I mean, like, for a while? Or—” That gorgeous caramel skin glowed bright pink.
    He wanted to smile. Laugh. Lie on the floor and kick his heels. “Oh no, of course not. I never would count on that. No reason she’d choose me when she has the world of fashion at her feet.” He sipped wine. “But she did make it sound like it was coming up soon.”
    Gray frowned and pushed away the last of his salmon. “I know. Don’t tell anybody this, okay? Hell, even my parents think we’re engaged. But I never asked Penelope to marry me. Never. She’s just assuming we’re going to do it, and I don’t know—I mean, I’m still pretty young, and she’s older than me. Anyway, I just haven’t set any dates, so she shouldn’t be getting people all excited about some fucking wedding that may never happen.”
    There it was. Ru’s whole chest glowed. “So, not the marrying kind?”
    Gray stared at his wineglass like it was a crystal ball. “They fix me up with dates to help my image, then the women get all excited and think we’re joined at the hip.”
    “But you’ve been dating Penelope for a while, haven’t you?”
    “Yeah. How do you know that?”
    “Like I said, I’m a fan.”
    “I like her better than some of the women they’ve hooked me up with.”
    “She seems very nice. And God knows, she doesn’t need your money. Her family’s so rich.”
    “Yeah. It’s great to know she’s not a gold digger. And some girls just want to fuck all the time and—” He actually gasped. “Sorry. That’s way too much information.”
    Holy shit. Don’t react. Ru grabbed their nearly empty plates and carried them to the kitchen. “Want some coffee?”
    “No. It keeps me awake.”
    “Like milk?”
    He made a heh-heh sound. “Yeah. I do. Guess I never grew up.”
    Ru poured two glasses of milk and got some chocolate chip and some lemon cookies from the cabinet. Arranging them on a plate, he said casually, “I’ll bet movie stars are too tired for sex. I mean, us mere mortals think you guys must be balling all the time, but Jesus, when would you fit it in?” He carried the plate to the