The One That Got Away by Madeleine Urban, Rhianne Aile Page B

sparkling, lips pursed into a smile that was obviously holding back a laugh.
    “Good. Think you could make it to the grocery store this afternoon?
    I’m still not supposed to drive and if we leave it to the guys to bring food, we’ll be eating hot dogs and chips.”
    “Sure. I’ve got a few hours in the office and an interview at a gallery downtown. I can go after that. What do you want me to get?” Trace asked, leaning back to sip his last cup of coffee. It struck him, out of the blue, how domestic this all seemed. It made him smile. Who’d have thought it would feel so good?
    “I’ll make you a list while you grab a shower. In case you hadn’t noticed, it’s almost one.” David laughed as Trace jumped up from the table. 

    “Damn it!” Trace exclaimed as he took two steps, then two steps back to put down the coffee cup, and then rushed out of the kitchen.

III

    DAVID moved around the house, setting out snacks, brewing a pot of coffee and filling the ice bucket. Trace had dashed through the door minutes ago, just barely ahead of the other guys. He was in the bedroom changing now. Keeping busy to resist the urge to join him and catch a glimpse of the body that had been on his mind all day, David opened a bag of nuts, grateful that Trace seemed to have picked things in packages he could open.
    Trace’s voice came from the back of the house. “David? Have you seen my red shirt? It’s not in the closet, and I’m sure I left it here.”
    “Yeah,” David shouted back, moving toward the laundry room. “I threw it in the wash. Just a sec. I’ll get it.” Snatching the hanger off the rod where he’d hung it out of the dryer, David walked into the bedroom.
    “Here you go.”
    Trace was standing with his back to the door, pulling up very form-fitting jeans over clinging boxer briefs. “Thanks,” he said distractedly as he settled the jeans on his hips, leaving them unfastened so he could tuck the shirt in. He turned around to reach for it.
    David gulped as Trace turned around, his eyes lingering on the muscular chest and the enticing line of dark hair traveling down from Trace’s belly button to disappear beneath his boxer briefs. Forcing his  eyes back up, he watched with fascination as Trace’s nipples hardened under his gaze.
    Trace blinked as his body responded to that focused gaze. Wow. He could feel the tension zipping between them—something that had never happened before.
    Whatever this was that was happening between them definitely wasn’t one-sided and that knowledge spread warmth through David’s body. Taking the shirt off the hanger, he stepped forward, intending to drape it around Trace’s shoulders just as the doorbell rang. Catching Trace’s eyes with a regretful look, he shrugged, turning away to answer the door.
    Trace went still as he saw David looking over him frankly, and a zing rippled through him. He blinked and tilted his head. So last night wasn’t a fluke caused by scotch. He shifted his weight to move forward when he heard the bell, and the regret on David’s face was clear. Trace wondered what David would have done. “David,” Trace said. He took two steps to stop at his side and lifted the shirt from his hand before he could leave the room. “Thanks.” It was meant for more than just bringing the shirt.
    David’s heart, racing from his intimate examination of Trace’s chest, stopped as Trace spoke his name. One side of his mouth curled up in a smile. Just ask, he thought. Ask me to stay, and I’ll ignore the door and the people on the other side forever. “I’d better get the door.”
    Reassured by David’s appraisal and the husk in his voice, Trace smiled slowly. He’d have never thought that discovering a man was aroused by him would feel so good. “Go on,” he said. “I’ll be out in a minute.”
    Head still back in the bedroom with Trace, David opened the door for Patrick and John. He could see Jared pulling into the driveway. Matt  would be late; he