Self Preservation by Ethan Day Page B

the bartender as Davis gave her a look. “One of us needs to keep our wits. A glass of wine at dinner and you almost burst into tears.”
     
    “Oh, fine.” Davis pouted, picking up a stir straw and fiddling with it. “Sue me for having feelings. It's your fault. You're the one that brought up monkey face.”
     
    “Holy crap,” Deseree said, placing a hand on his arm. “What a minefield that was. And Jack's face when you said he shouldn't call you that anymore… I thought he was going to blow a gasket.”
     
    “It did seem to have an effect.”
     
    Deseree took the drinks from the bartender and held one out for Davis. He lifted his hand to take it and scowled. “These damn sleeves are too long.”
     
    “They're supposed to be. You look hip.”
     
    Davis frowned, flinging his hand around, trying to flip the cuff off so he could take the drink from her.
     
    “Stop that!” Deseree shook her head at him. “You look ridiculous.”
     
    “Well, hell.” Davis grinned as he pushed the sleeve back with his other hand and took the martini from her.
     
    “Lean back on the bar and rest your elbows on it,” Deseree said, setting her drink down and moving in front of him. He did as instructed, and she undid a couple of the buttons on the bottom of the shirt. A naughty grin spread over her face as he looked down to see a tiny bit of his stomach showing.
     
    “Again with making me look like a hooker.”
     
    “Zip it,” she said, moving back to his side. She picked up her glass as they examined the crowd. “See, there's an extreme hottie over there checking you out. He looks kinda familiar.”
     
    “Where?” Davis asked surveying the room. “I don't see.”
     
    “By the windows, are you fucking blind? No wonder you've never met anyone else. You were probably too dense to notice them staring at you.”
     
    “I have issues, we know this.” Davis shot her a look. “Besides, he could be cross-eyed for all we know.”
     
    “Shit, he's coming this way,” Deseree said, excitedly taking a drink.
     
    The man made his way through the crowd, and a hand grabbed his arm, stopping him. The crowd shifted and Davis and Deseree gasped. The hand that had halted him belonged to Jack.
     
    “No fucking way.” Deseree watched as Jack embraced the other man. “That can't be him.”
     
    “The Toad,” Davis said, eyes widening.
     
    “You were totally his eye candy,” Deseree said, seeming a little miffed as Jack kissed the man. “It is him.”
     
    “And he doesn't look very toad-like,” Davis said as his elbows slid off the top of the bar. “He's gorgeous.”
     
    Tadd Austin was in his mid- to late thirties and was the type of man who would appear to be every bit as comfortable at an evening at the opera as he would floating down the river in an inner tube with a can of beer in his hand. He was very well built with an almost-intimidating physical presence. That impression, though, was softened by the kind eyes behind the wire-rimmed glasses he wore. He was dressed in a sleek black suit with a pristine white shirt that had the top few buttons undone, revealing a hint of the well-tanned, sculpted chest that lay beneath. His sandy blond hair looked product free and was loosely parted to one side. He possessed all one would think of in terms of what a man was supposed to look like.
     
    Jack and Tadd separated, and Jack pointed toward Davis and Deseree. The two men made their way through the crowd, stopping once so Tadd and Jack could shake someone's hand, before walking up to Davis and Deseree.
     
    “Davis, Des,” Jack said, placing his hand on Tadd's shoulder, “this is my fiancé, Tadd Austin.”
     
    Davis and Deseree flashed overcompensating smiles as Tadd reached out his hand. “It's nice to meet you both. I've heard a lot about you,” he added, looking at Davis.
     
    Davis stood there smiling up at him, wondering why Tadd couldn't just be a normal guy instead of Rock fucking Hudson.
     
    “I was