“Hey, it’s going to be fun, dammit.”
Lindsey laughed. “Right. Talk soon, darling.” He clicked off and returned the phone to the side table.
He stood, stepped out of the tub, and grabbed a towel from the heated rack.
He loved Cole like his own brother, but he didn’t tell him everything.
Thanks to their recent war against Eliazer and his thugs, Cole had discovered Lindsey had a few more dangerous talents than he’d suspected. Mostly, that he was good with a gun. But one important bit of data remained missing from Cole’s bio on Lindsey. Despite the fact that he was a pretty crappy werewolf, thanks to his human blood, Lindsey had this violent streak. It only came out when he was threatened or very excited sexually. If a guy really turned him on, it was bye-bye Mr. Nice Guy.
He shivered and wrapped the towel tighter. He could kill somebody. Plus, if the pack found out he threatened their anonymity with his wolfy hard-ons, who knew what they’d do to him?
He opened the drawer and ran the brush through his hair. Pretty enough.
This Westerberg would be just one more tepid human. Or at least, he better be.
Lindsey sat back in the lounge chair and sipped his martini. Nice. But not too nice.
He smiled at the handsome guy across from him at the cramped cocktail table. Tall, dressed in a blue blazer and tan trousers, with sleek dark hair and chiseled features, Bruce Westerberg qualified as “straight gay.” No one would get a clue—except maybe for the cosmopolitan he was drinking.
Bruce took a swallow of the pink drink. “Shall we get some dinner?”
“Ah, so I’ve passed the invisible blind date test.” Lindsey twirled his olive.
That got a grin. “Why wouldn’t you? You’re gorgeous.”
“Thank you, kind sir. You’re not so bad yourself.” He leveled his gaze. “I just thought you might find me a little too”—he smoothed his lavender ascot—“too.”
Bruce glanced down and then back to Lindsey’s face. “Actually, I like that you are who you are. Besides, I’ve heard you’re a killer in business, so I expect you have hidden depths.”
Interesting observation and right answer. “Killer, huh? Just be glad you’re not a rabbit.” He laughed and waved at the waiter. The man hurried over. “Mr. Westerberg and I will be having dinner. Can you put this on our bill, please, John?”
“Of course, Mr. Vanessen.”
Lindsey got up with Bruce beside him and left some bills on the table for the cocktail waiter. The country club was a comfortable venue for a first date, but he would have liked a gay bar better. Two men couldn’t dance here, or do much of anything else, for that matter, and Bruce seemed like a safe choice for “something else.”
He threaded between the tables, waving and shaking hands with people he knew. A couple of times he introduced Bruce.
James Lownstein, a former captain of industry, now retired, put a hand on his arm. “Lindsey, have you heard that Elmer Dalton’s son was kidnapped?”
Lindsey covered James’s hand with his own. “Yes, I know. It’s shocking. I’m so sorry to hear it. What do the police say?”
“I’ve only heard bits, but they think the kidnappers will bring the boy back if the Daltons pay. That’s what happened to the last victim. He got dropped off after the money was collected. It just makes me so damned mad. These criminals are victimizing all of us.”
“I agree, James. I do hope the police catch them soon.” He pressed a hand to his chest. Someone should sure as hell catch them.
He walked out of the cocktail lounge with Bruce and into the dining room.
“Good evening, Mr. Vanessen.” Peter, the very proper maître d’, stepped forward.
“Hello, Peter. Table for two, please.”
“This way, gentlemen.” He led them to a table in the corner next to the window. A candle flickered in the center of the white tablecloth, but otherwise the lighting was subdued. Outside, moonlight shone through the dense pines.
“Peter, you’re a romantic.”
“Thank you, sir.”
Lindsey laughed, pulled out Bruce’s chair, and let Peter help him into his own. Peter stepped back. “You’ll be wanting the sommelier, sir?”
“Do you like wine, Bruce?”
Bruce nodded.
“Yes, please, Peter.”
The maître d’ left. Bruce put his napkin on his lap and stared at it.
Lindsey cocked his head. “Is something wrong?”
“It’s the kidnappings. The whole topic is so upsetting.”
“Do you know any of the victims or their families?”
“No, but it feels so close to home. People like us.”
Not quite like Lindsey, but the point was made. “Yes. I wish we knew more about the progress of the investigation.”
Bruce’s eyes widened. “You do? I’d think you’d want to be as far from that awful situation as possible. My God, you could be next. Or me.”
Not bloody likely in his case. He’d bite them. “Yes, yes, of course. It’s horrible and terrifying. I simply meant it would be good to know they’d caught the people responsible.”
“So true.”
The sommelier arrived at that moment. Lindsey waved away the wine list. “Just bring us a good pinot, and tell the bartender we’re in need of another martini and cosmopolitan. Thanks so much.” When the man walked away, Lindsey smiled at Bruce. “I think we could use a bit more liquid courage, don’t you, darling?”
“Definitely.” Bruce finally sat back and sighed. “I feel like I’ve been rather protected at school, and now with these crimes, I got pushed in the deep end of life.”
The waiter brought their drinks. Lindsey raised his glass. “To being a champion swimmer.”
Bruce picked up his drink. “You are a charmer, you know?” They toasted. Bruce sipped. “How does your family feel about you being gay?”
Lindsey shrugged. “I’ve been very lucky. They’ve always accepted me. But then, they guessed I was gay somewhere around my third birthday, so it was no big surprise.” He carefully crossed his legs to show off his purple suede Gucci loafers to best advantage. “What about you?”
“I’m not quite so lucky. My father accepts it because he must, but he wishes I’d wake up tomorrow with a passionate desire for girls.”
“I think people who love us believe our lives would be easier if we were straight. They don’t mean it as a condemnation of who we are.”
“Maybe.” He didn’t look convinced.
“Ta, darling, if your father is reticent about your orientation, what did he think about you coming out with the likes of me? All puns intended.”
Bruce grinned. Nice dimples. “Hell, if I’ve got to be gay, it might as well be with the most eligible gay bachelor in the US.”
Lindsey fluttered his fingers. “You exaggerate. Only the second most eligible.” How he wished it was true.
The waiter came and Lindsey stared at the menu. Something lovely like a nice sole fit his personal style to a T. Sadly, wolves liked meat, and Lindsey was no exception. “The filet, please. Very rare.”
Bruce ordered the salmon, and they chatted their way through dinner. Lindsey quietly sucked the blood out of his meat and stared at Bruce as the guy shared his experiences in grad school.