Shivering, Stephen pulled his overcoat closed against the nip in the spring air and refocused his thoughts on his immediate goal: cheesecake.
Sinful cheesecake.
Specifically, Le Moulin Rose’s three-inch-thick miracle of cream cheese and swirled caramel all topped with a Kahlua coffee glaze. Not something he needed to add to his already questionable waistline. But a few extra sessions at the gym would be well worth it.
After all, this was a two-fold celebration: one, the last day of tax season. For the first time in ten years, he’d declined to work beyond April 15th, abandoning all the panicky late filers to the other staff members. And two, Stephen Schuyler, rigidly
or was that boringly?
dedicated accountant, was at long last taking a vacation.
Tonight he would announce the news to his live-in lover, Emmett. No, he corrected himself, it was “Emerson” now. He snickered at the pretentious name Emmett had chosen. Stephen could hear Emmett’s condescending drawl in his head: “But seriously, Stevie, an actor needs a unique name to elevate him above the common herd and get him remembered.” At least that was the latest theory as to why Emmett’s acting career was floundering. But if Emmett believed the right name was so important, why couldn’t the man remember just how much Stephen hated being called “Stevie?”
But whatever names they went by, the next day would see the two of them driving up to a friend’s cabin on the river for a romantic getaway. And Stephen would prove that yes, an accountant could be spontaneous. Yes, he could take off in search of adventure. And no, he was not “buried in his work, wearing blinders, and just no fun anymore.”
For an entire week they would embrace the long-overdue chance to reconnect with each other. Between Stephen’s ten-hour work days and Emmett’s gadding about, networking for auditions and contacts, they’d barely seen each other for months. It had been a huge strain on their relationship.
Fresh air, a change of scenery, and uninterrupted time together were just what they needed. And sex. Lots of sex. Something they hadn’t found time for in, well, forever. So Stephen’s last-minute trip into the city for outrageously expensive cheesecake just to please Emmett was totally justified.
Grinning at the neon windmill sign above Le Moulin Rose’s entrance, Stephen felt a rush of anticipation. Like he was daring to play hooky from school. He flung open the door and entered the tiny bistro where the best cheesecake in the world was made.
Breathing in the intoxicating aromas of fresh-baked French pastries and exquisite coffee, he waited in line with reverent appreciation. After placing his order at the busy counter, he went to stand out of the way while it was wrapped. Scanning the intimate dining room crammed with small, wrought-iron tables, he was pleased to see it was packed with customers. Good to know the place was doing well. When his gaze lit on the occupants of the nearest table though, he caught his breath.
Emmett. The man’s unmistakable white-blond hair glowed like pearl beneath the soft, pink-toned lights.
For a split second a surge of pleased surprise tickled Stephen. Had Emmett somehow discovered his plans and decided to meet him?
No. Apparently not.
Emmett wasn’t alone. There was another man sharing the table. A much youngerman Stephen’s brain just had to point out. And from the way the stranger was draped over Emmett and from the greedy kisses Emmett was placing on the man’s fingers, this was not a casual meeting of fellow actors or friends. As Stephen stared at them, unable to look away, a grinding sensation was building in his stomach. When Emmett’s tittering laugh floated by, Stephen clenched his muscles, pushing down the threatening nausea. He shuddered, feeling foolish and exposed just standing there. He had to get away right now, but his legs had forgotten how to move.
The counter girl skidded into Stephen’s line of sight and pushed a bright pink box at his chest. He barely caught the box before she rushed away.
He looked down at what he was holding, wondering for a moment what it was. Of course. Cheesecake. The special surprise he’d splurged on for Emmett. Seventy-two dollars plus tax. Returning his gaze to his lover, Stephen had a fleeting vision of smashing the cheesecake onto that bright blond hair. But, no. Drama was Emmett’s thing, not his. So he jerked his frozen legs into motion and blindly shouldered his way through the crowd and back out to the street.
* * * *
Stephen wasn’t altogether sure how he’d gotten home. The train, of course, but he didn’t remember anything of it. Good thing he hadn’t driven the car into the city.
And now closeted in his apartment, hunched over the dining room table, he glared at the lurid pink box and its gold embossed image of a windmill. Was it mocking him? Telling him he’d been tilting at windmills again, believing that he could find love?
His lips narrowed. Well, no sense letting it go to waste. He tore the lid off the box and jammed his fingers into the center of the perfect dessert. How offended Emmett would be at such savage table manners. Scooping up a fistful of velvety cream cheese, he tasted it. Oh, God, that was good. He might just eat the whole thing. No need to leave any for Emmett.
