GENRE: Gay Spicy Romance
LENGTH: 21,831 words
RATING:

As a freelance photographer, Mal Donnelly is a complete professional, and doesn’t bat a lash at any assignment. Even the special St. Patrick’s Day photo-shoot on the set of a gay pornographic film. But just the sight of the film’s star, Alejandro Marroquin, is enough to turn him into a tongue-tied fool. When Alejandro asks him to dinner, Mal knows it truly is his lucky day.

Alejandro doesn’t date. With his career, it is difficult to have any sort of real relationship. But Mal, the soft-spoken, talented photographer, had captivated Alejandro from the moment they met six months prior to the St. Patrick’s Day shoot. Still covered in green paint from the photo-shoot, he gathers up his courage and asks Mal to dinner. Alejandro can only hope that their mutual desire will overcome the obstacle of his career. After all, it isn’t easy being with the hottest porn star in town ...

EXCERPT:
Note: may contain sexually explicit scenes of a homoerotic nature.

He slid into the passenger seat, contemplating Mal's words. He'd been trying to take things slowly, to keep this real instead of something that was just about fucking. The more time he spent with Mal, the more that seemed possible. But just touching him drove Alejandro crazy. This was their third date. That was waiting enough.

"What are your plans for tomorrow?" he asked as Mal started the car. "Do you have any place you have to be in the morning?" His mouth twitched. "Church maybe?"

Mal laughed. "No, no church. I don't have anything planned for tomorrow except recovering from tonight."

The offer just popped out of his mouth.

"You're welcome to recover at my place if you want. Unless there's stuff you need to get done before we leave for San Francisco on Tuesday."

Mal brought the car to a stop and looked over to Alejandro. He studied his face for a moment before smiling. "I'm all ready to go. I'd like to stay with you. Do you happen to know any surefire hangover cures?"

Anticipation of falling asleep curled around Mal flooded through him. "I'm sure we'll figure something out."

As Mal drove, he told Alejandro about the gig he'd lined up in San Francisco. "Now I can write off the whole trip," he added with a laugh. By the time they reached Runaway, the small parking lot behind the building was full, and so was the alley. "Thank God for valet parking."

Once they were out of the vehicle and the keys were turned over to the valet, Mal took his hand again.

"So we don't get separated when everybody mobs around you," Mal explained.

Runaway was ready for the party. Over the door, a big sign proclaimed, "Happy St. Patrick's Day!" Four-leaf clovers plastered over the windows, and the throb of music played at deafening decibels blasted into the street when Mal opened the door for him. Alejandro felt like he was walking into a work gig. He didn't normally hang out at gay bars or clubs anymore; the recognition factor made him uneasy, especially in Los Angeles. He dealt with it professionally, of course, but that didn't mean he liked it.

Tonight would be an exception. For Mal, he'd smile and mean it.

He let Mal guide the way. The other man seemed eager to reach the party already raging inside, and though more than one person did a double take when they saw him, Alejandro deliberately set aside the last of his trepidations about a night out on the town. Mal had had difficulties from the start believing Alejandro wanted to see him. If proving it to the public was what it took to finally get through to him, then so be it.

"The darkest beer they have," he said when Mal asked him what he wanted to drink.

"One heffi and one stout," Mal said, just barely over the roar of the music.

"Sorry, we're only serving one kind of beer tonight."

"What's that?"

"Green."

Mal laughed. "Then two of those!"

As the bartender turned away, another hand fell on Mal's shoulder. Mal spun around with a smile, greeting a man who was a little bit taller and looked to be a little bit younger than Mal himself. "Hey, look who showed up."

The other man grinned widely. "Told you I'd be here. Who's this?"

"Oh, Jay, this is Alejandro. Alejandro, this is my friend, Jay."

Though he smiled and extended his hand in greeting, Alejandro saw the exact moment recognition dawned in Jay's eyes. Mal watched them intently, obviously trying to gauge the reaction, but Alejandro just let it slide without acknowledgement.

"So Mal's friend," he said instead. He released his hand and casually reached around Mal's waist, slipping his hand into the far back pocket. It was obvious, but that's what was going to be called for tonight, apparently. And he didn't want anyone to doubt exactly why he was there. "Does that mean you're the one I hit up for all the juicy details on how to wrap him around my little finger?"

Jay snorted. "Are you kidding? I've been trying to do that for months now." He looked pointedly at where Alejandro's hand disappeared. "It looks like you've been a bit more successful than me. Maybe you should tell me one of your tricks."

"Maybe that's because you've got your eye on about a half dozen other guys," Mal cut in.

The grin never left Jay's face. "You know I'll dump them all for you."

Alejandro bit his tongue. Players like Jay were exactly why he didn't usually bother with the scene anymore. And as tempting as it was to make a cutting remark, he knew he couldn't. Not if he didn't want to fuck with his career.

"I guess I'll just consider myself lucky then," he said. He leaned back against the bar, deliberately aligning his hips with Mal's. "Very lucky."