pervert, a hedonistic mess, although Sebastien knew the truth of it. For several years, his friend had been involved in a steady relationship with two others, a man and a woman. It sounded like things had fallen apart if he was looking to get involved with Marin, but Dash had never made any attempt to hide the fact that he was bisexual.
He had teasingly made a few plays at Sebastien the first time they’d worked together and Sebastien had come to realize it was just how Dash was. More than once, Dash had done the same with other guys and reactions varied from confusion to interest and
dis
interest to over-the-top rage.
The flirtation was every bit as much as Dash’s way of gauging somebody’s inner asshole as it was anything else.
Jingling his keys, Sebastien met Marin’s gaze, fight for a way to fill the awkward silence as some strange tension choked the easy relationship they’d shared. “I’ll talk to you soon?”
“Of course.” She glanced past him, brushing her hair back. “I actually have something to discuss with you anyway. I’ll call you.”
***
Marin kept seeing the look in his eyes.
Even as Dash pulled out all the stops and showed just why plenty of women in Hollywood—and outside of it—considered him to be one hell of a catch despite his somewhat alternative leanings, Marin was thinking of Sebastien.
She kept dragging her attention back to Dash and to his credit, when they weren’t being interrupted by a server, or by another patron, he managed to keep up a steady flow of conversation that wasn’t boring.
But all it took was for him to let the ball drop for a few seconds and her mind would slip back to Sebastien’s intense gaze and how it had gone so curiously blank as he looked from her to Dash, then back. If she didn’t know better, she would have thought he seemed hurt.
She was pondering that alone at the table. Dash had excused himself to the restroom and while she tried not to think about Sebastien, he kept slipping inside her thoughts like a phantom.
“You look like you are a million miles away.”
She jolted at Dash’s unexpected voice and looked up. He was back in his seat and she hadn’t even noticed that he’d returned. “Ah . . . sorry. I was . . .” She gestured to the sun as it sank deeper and deeper into the ocean, the sky above it painted a panorama of colors. “Just admiring.”
“Then why do you look sad?”
“Do I?” It took no effort to smile. It took no effort to reach for the glass of wine she’d ordered to go with her dessert and she sipped from it, holding Dash’s eyes easily. “I can’t imagine why I’d look sad.”
“Well, hopefully it’s not my company.” The teasing grin on Dash’s mouth invited her to smile with him.
“The company is absolutely wonderful.” Tipping her glass to him, she took another sip before lowering it to the table. “The company, the food, the atmosphere. This place is a gem. I can’t believe I hadn’t heard of it.”
Dash winked. “It’s a secret. If too many people know about it, it won’t stay all unique and wonderful and gem-like.”
“I can see that.”
Leaning back in his chair, Dash tapped his finger against his lips. “You know, I think I know why you look sad. You’re thinking about Sebastien.”
“I’m not—I already told you, I’m not sad.”
“No.” Dash wagged a finger at her. “You told me you don’t know why you’d look sad. That’s not the same as not being sad. And bullshit you don’t know why you’re sad. Before we saw him, you were just . . . you. Now it seems like you are the Marin I would see in an interview. You’re wearing a mask. You put that mask on when you want to show the world what they expect to see.” Now he leaned forward and reached out, closing his hand over hers. “For the record, the Marin
I
am interested in is the real one. No masks.”
She would have argued. She wasn’t wearing a mask. Marin didn’t pull that fake routine. She was who
He had teasingly made a few plays at Sebastien the first time they’d worked together and Sebastien had come to realize it was just how Dash was. More than once, Dash had done the same with other guys and reactions varied from confusion to interest and
dis
interest to over-the-top rage.
The flirtation was every bit as much as Dash’s way of gauging somebody’s inner asshole as it was anything else.
Jingling his keys, Sebastien met Marin’s gaze, fight for a way to fill the awkward silence as some strange tension choked the easy relationship they’d shared. “I’ll talk to you soon?”
“Of course.” She glanced past him, brushing her hair back. “I actually have something to discuss with you anyway. I’ll call you.”
***
Marin kept seeing the look in his eyes.
Even as Dash pulled out all the stops and showed just why plenty of women in Hollywood—and outside of it—considered him to be one hell of a catch despite his somewhat alternative leanings, Marin was thinking of Sebastien.
She kept dragging her attention back to Dash and to his credit, when they weren’t being interrupted by a server, or by another patron, he managed to keep up a steady flow of conversation that wasn’t boring.
But all it took was for him to let the ball drop for a few seconds and her mind would slip back to Sebastien’s intense gaze and how it had gone so curiously blank as he looked from her to Dash, then back. If she didn’t know better, she would have thought he seemed hurt.
She was pondering that alone at the table. Dash had excused himself to the restroom and while she tried not to think about Sebastien, he kept slipping inside her thoughts like a phantom.
“You look like you are a million miles away.”
She jolted at Dash’s unexpected voice and looked up. He was back in his seat and she hadn’t even noticed that he’d returned. “Ah . . . sorry. I was . . .” She gestured to the sun as it sank deeper and deeper into the ocean, the sky above it painted a panorama of colors. “Just admiring.”
“Then why do you look sad?”
“Do I?” It took no effort to smile. It took no effort to reach for the glass of wine she’d ordered to go with her dessert and she sipped from it, holding Dash’s eyes easily. “I can’t imagine why I’d look sad.”
“Well, hopefully it’s not my company.” The teasing grin on Dash’s mouth invited her to smile with him.
“The company is absolutely wonderful.” Tipping her glass to him, she took another sip before lowering it to the table. “The company, the food, the atmosphere. This place is a gem. I can’t believe I hadn’t heard of it.”
Dash winked. “It’s a secret. If too many people know about it, it won’t stay all unique and wonderful and gem-like.”
“I can see that.”
Leaning back in his chair, Dash tapped his finger against his lips. “You know, I think I know why you look sad. You’re thinking about Sebastien.”
“I’m not—I already told you, I’m not sad.”
“No.” Dash wagged a finger at her. “You told me you don’t know why you’d look sad. That’s not the same as not being sad. And bullshit you don’t know why you’re sad. Before we saw him, you were just . . . you. Now it seems like you are the Marin I would see in an interview. You’re wearing a mask. You put that mask on when you want to show the world what they expect to see.” Now he leaned forward and reached out, closing his hand over hers. “For the record, the Marin
I
am interested in is the real one. No masks.”
She would have argued. She wasn’t wearing a mask. Marin didn’t pull that fake routine. She was who
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