Walker breathed a sigh of relief. "I'm sorry, it's none of my business."
"No, it's not, but you came all this way on a chance. I owe you a bit of honesty. It was Lukas Romaine." Mark's expression turned wistful.
Now Walker understood. Their former section leader had been one of the most beautiful men Walker had ever seen; slender, with androgynous features and the biggest green eyes. Each operative who walked in his office for the first time had taken one look at his slight form and made the mistake of underestimating him. They didn't do it a second time. He'd only lost two battles. The one that stopped his career in the field and the day Jake walked out.
"I'm sorry, Mark," Walker said, trying to hide his disappointment.
If Lukas had Mark's heart, Walker was wasting his time. He couldn't compete with a man like Lukas.
"So am I, but I spent enough time on something that was never to be." Mark's smile was still wistful, but he looked straight at Walker. "Would you like to come around for lunch tomorrow?"
Walker blinked. "Me?"
Mark laughed but it was kind and Walker didn't take offense. "Yes, you."
"I'd love to."
He'd have to find somewhere to wash up in the morning. Perhaps Raines would let him clean up here.
Mark's smile lit up the barroom. "Great. I'll see you at midday. Let me give you my address."
He fished a pen out of his jacket and wrote something on an unused napkin. Walker barely breathed until Mark looked up.
"I've given you my phone number too." He handed Walker the napkin.
"Thank you," Walker mumbled.
Mark stood up and looked down at him. "I'll see you tomorrow."
Walker nodded and Mark grinned and walked away, waving at Si as he did. When he'd vanished through the door, Walker stared down at the napkin. He had a date. He…had a date…with Mark.
The barroom door opened again. Walker looked up to see Mark framed in the doorway.
"Where are you staying?" Mark asked.
"Uh…I don't know yet," Walker admitted. "Probably my car."
"I have a spare bed. Come with me."
Walker was on his feet, following Mark, before his brain had time to process. "Wait, I need to pay."
He turned to find Si waving him away. "Tomorrow, dude."
"Come on then," Mark said.
Stunned, Walker followed Mark out of J.T.'s Bar, not daring to blink in case the man of his dreams suddenly vanished.
Is this for real?
Chapter 3
Walker shivered in the chill spring air after the warmth of the bar.
Mark grinned at him. "That wind is always a shock."
"Do you want to take my rental?" Walker suggested.
"Yeah, why not."
Walker turned to his grey compact and spotted something on the windshield. "What the hell?"
He'd gotten a ticket already? He’d only been in town an hour.
Mark chuckled. "You've been sheriff'd."
"What?"
"Sheriff Clarkson hates people parking in the streets. He's a nightmare. He'll ticket anyone. Even delivery vans. Si should have told you to park down the alley."
Walker growled under his breath. What a surprise. Raines had kept his mouth zipped. He snatched the ticket from under the wiper and threw it on the dash when he got into the car.
"I'm sorry," Mark said, his expression sympathetic.
"It's okay. It sums up my day." Walker smiled wryly.
Mark patted Walker's thigh. His hand lingered there for a moment. "Let me see if I can make your day better."
The heat from Mark's palm bled through Walker's tac pants and his tone suggested more than a bed for the night. Walker bit his lip. "I gotta ask…."
"Yes?"
Mark's eyes were kind and Walker found the courage to say what was on his mind.
"I'm not like him."
"Lukas?"
Thank God Mark didn't pretend not to know what he was talking about.
"Yeah. He's like an actor or a model. I'm not like that."
"I wouldn't be here if you were," Mark said.
"I'm just a big lug." He had no illusions about what he was.
"Walker, I want to take you home and fuck you through the mattress."
Walker forgot how to breathe. "You do?"
Mark didn't crack a smile. "I do."
"Fuck."
"That's the plan."
Walker fumbled with the key, dropping it into the footwell. He scrabbled around for it, finally sitting up with a beet-red face.
"Hey, take it easy," Mark said, laying his hand on Walker's forearm. "You don't have to do this if you don't want to."
"I do. It's just that I've never…." Walker mumbled.
"With men?"
"Ever."
Walker knew his cheeks were still burning, and he couldn't look at Mark. He didn't want to admit he had no experience. He was a thirty-year-old virgin. But Mark deserved his honesty.
Mark was silent for so long Walker knew he'd blown it. What man wanted a hook-up with a virgin? Guys wanted men who knew what they were doing.
"Walker."
Walker looked out of the window.
"Walker."
Sharper this time.
"Look at me."
Reluctantly, Walker turned to look at Mark although his expression was in shadow and Walker couldn't read his face.
"Thank you for telling me. I know how hard that must have been."
No, he really didn't.
"It would have been obvious the first time we…." Walker trailed off but Mark just nodded.
"Come on then. Let's go home."
"You still want to?" Walker asked, startled.
"I really want to," Mark said, and Walker could tell by the warmth in his voice he meant it.
Walker swallowed hard. This time he managed to start the car without screwing it up. "Where are we going?"
"Take a left at the intersection."
He followed Mark's directions, weaving through a residential area until Mark pointed and told him to park up behind a recent model Nissan Altima.
"You don't drive like an agency man," Walker said.
Mark let out a bark of laughter. "What do you mean?"
"Most of the guys drive muscle cars or trucks."
"I drive something which doesn't hurt my knee," Mark said.
Walker had forgotten his injury. "Are you sure you want to…."
"I'm sure," Mark assured him. "Come on, let's go inside."
He slid out of the car and after a moment Walker reached into the back seat to pick up his pack and followed him to the front stoop. A mismatch of pots stood by the front door, all filled with fragrant plants.
"You like gardening?" Walker asked.
"I like cooking," Mark said as he opened the door and flicked the switch. Light flooded the small hallway. "My gardening is limited to what I can eat."
"I wish I could cook," Walker admitted. "I live on cereal and takeout."
"So did I when I worked for the agency. I only learned to cook when I moved in here. I didn't have the money to buy takeout every night." Mark smiled at him. "But I don't want to talk about food." His smile became predatory. "I've got better things to do with your mouth."