Under My Skin (3 page)

Talk about mixed messages.

And yet... Sebastian's body just didn't seem to care if the man was straight or gay. One look at that beautiful, buff build, the mischievous glint in Dylan's eyes, and a husky syllable or two out of his mouth and Sebastian was on fire. Hell, he wasn't in to piercings, but for reasons he couldn't fathom, he even found the silver hoops Dylan wore in each ear a turn-on.

Damn it, this had to stop!

The tattoo artist was just wrong, period. Everything he stood for was wrong.

God, was he ever going to learn?

Sebastian had a history of falling for the absolute worst wrong guys. In high school his first big crush had been on the captain of the football team, who'd also been president of the debate club. His name was Lee, and after months of Sebastian having a fairly pathetic case of hero worship for him, following a debate one afternoon, he and Lee had been alone in a classroom and Lee had cornered him and kissed him. Sebastian had been floored by the move and had gone home dreaming of much, much more. But the next day at school Lee hadn't given him the time of day and from then on had ignored him completely as he dated anything with breasts, then boasted about his conquests to all who'd listen.

The next man to snag Sebastian's attention in a big way had been in college. Horst, the soccer player, with his rippling muscles and porn star physique. He'd been Sebastian's first real love— or so Sebastian had thought, for the four months they'd slept together during junior year. It wasn't until pictures had surfaced on the Internet of a party that had taken place during an away soccer game at another university. Horst, along with several of his teammates, had been caught on film having an orgy with dozens of other collegiate men and women that could have rivaled any professional skin flick. Sebastian had finally seen Horst's true colors. It turned out the orgies were commonplace during away games, and when Sebastian had confronted Horst, the athlete had admitted he'd only hooked up with Sebastian because he'd needed his help to pass math and history— Sebastian's fortes.

That had been enough to scare him away from relationships for a good long time. Until he'd met Beck at his cousin Murphy's wedding. Beck had been a friend of a friend, and just like with Horst, Sebastian's libido had gotten the best of him. Several champagne cocktails later, he'd found himself wedged into the tiny bathroom at the Elk's lodge getting a hand job from the blond, tattooed biker. He'd been too drunk to remember much about it, except that Beck had had a compelling way of convincing Sebastian he couldn't live without him. They'd begun seeing each other almost every night.

They came from different backgrounds, walked in two different worlds, which had sometimes been difficult to juggle. Sebastian hadn't exactly fit in with the tattooed biker crowd, and Sebastian's books and intellectual pursuits had pretty much been lost on Beck. But the fact they'd both owned their own businesses had given them some commonalities. Sebastian's bookstore had been open and bringing in a nice profit for a while, and Beck had run a motorcycle repair shop.

They'd managed to make their odd pairing work and everything had been good for a while... until Beck lost his apartment. He'd told Sebastian it was because the building owner had decided to renovate and everyone had to move out. It wasn't until long after the fact, as Sebastian had been forced to sift through the tangled web of lies Beck had told him, that he'd discovered Beck had been kicked out of his apartment because he hadn't paid rent in months. But at the time Sebastian had been clueless and he'd gladly invited his boyfriend to move in with him.

That's when things had begun to go downhill. Beck's business seemed continually fraught with problems— none of them of his own making, of course, so he said. The first time Sebastian had bailed him out to the tune of several thousand dollars, it had been shortly after Beck had moved in with him and the glow of love was still fresh. Sebastian hadn't thought twice about it, sure Beck's business would pick up and just glad he was able to help his boyfriend. The next time, a couple of months later, he'd been a little more concerned, but had still been sickeningly amenable.

As the problems continued, though, things had degenerated on the home front as well. Their sexual encounters had tapered off to almost nil. And when they had happened, they'd been quickies, with Beck having places to go and things to do immediately afterward. He'd spent most of time hanging with his buddies at their favorite bar or working on his “special project” motorcycle that had nothing to with his business and everything to do with building a bike Beck wanted for himself. He'd often stay out all night, rolling in the next morning about the time Sebastian would be leaving for work. After a few months of that, and Sebastian always being the one to pay the rent, as well as managing to cough up money for whatever Beck's next scheme was to save his motorcycle shop, Sebastian had begun to seriously consider ending it. Still, he'd wanted to believe in Beck, kept remembering the first few months they'd been together when everything had been good. Each time they'd fight and Beck would promise things would be better, Sebastian had caved in and hung on, hoping for the best.

Until he'd come home one Friday after work fifteen months ago to find his apartment completely cleaned out, his bank account emptied— which was his own fault because he'd agreed to a joint account with Beck a few months after they moved in together— every credit card he had run up to the max, and Beck long gone. The only things the man had left behind had been Sebastian's clothes, bed, couch, and kitchenware. And his books, of course. Beck had never had any interest in anything so dull as books. He'd also left a letter saying, in a nutshell, thanks for the room, board, and money, but since I've drained you dry, it's time to move on to the next sucker.

The memory of that letter still made Sebastian's gut churn.

He'd been a fool. A gullible fool. And he had no one to blame but himself.

Which was why no matter how sexy Dylan Radamacher might be, or how Sebastian's body responded to him, he was damn well not going to trust someone like that ever again.

Dylan finished wiping down the chair, his stool, and the counters with disinfectant, then stretched to work the kinks out of his back from being bent over clients so much of the day.

His three o'clock session had run longer than planned because it was the thirty-something woman's first tattoo and she'd been a nervous wreck. Not one of the terrified “I have to get out of here now” types— he could usually tell right away if someone was going to bail or stick it out— but she'd been tense enough he'd had to make a point of chatting with her a lot to put her at ease, and stopping often to give her breaks. She'd told him all about her two sons, her husband's job, her own burgeoning business as a caterer. Dylan had learned a long time ago, when he first started doing tattoos, working alongside his mentor, that being a good tattooist was part artistry and part being both a decent conversationalist and a good listener. In his newest client's case, the talking had achieved the desired effect. The butterfly and flowers on the woman's lower back had turned out nicely, and she'd been thrilled with the final piece. But it had been almost seven o'clock before they'd finished.

Then he'd had to make a couple of calls to set up interviews. His business was growing so well he'd decided to bring an additional artist into the shop to work with him. His schedule these days was always booked weeks in advance, and it was getting tougher and tougher to fit everyone in as fast as he'd like. The options were to take no more new clients, give up his Sunday and Monday weekends and start working one or both of those days, or hire someone to help him. There'd really only been one solution, as far as he was concerned. And now that he was in a bigger space, he had room for someone else.

The shop was blessedly quiet with everyone gone and Ander's alternative rock music turned off. Dylan savored the peace as he shut off lights. At moments like this he could appreciate his next door neighbor's issue with the music. He was going to have to make a point of laying down the law with Ander about it. Ander was an enthusiastic kid, and good at what he did, and for the most part Dylan was willing to let him have some leeway. But they weren't in the tiny, converted, free-standing house any longer where he'd started Rad Tattoos seven years ago and where Ander had come to work for him ten months ago. Business had been very good and it had been time to move into a bigger, nicer place. But Ander was going to have to learn they shared the building with other stores now and playing nice with the other kids in the sandbox was important.

Other kids...

He grinned as he thought of how frazzled Sebastian Keller had been this afternoon. He really was sorry the poor guy kept having to come over or bang on the wall because of the noise, and it didn't bring him any joy to keep antagonizing him. But, damn, Babs was right. Sebastian was cute as hell when he was ticked off. Even cuter when he was flustered, as he had been right before he'd blushed ten kinds of red and made his quick escape today.

The truth was, Dylan had pretty much had his eye on the man from the first time he'd seen him. Who wouldn't? Sebastian's classic, all-American good looks made him stand out in any crowd, appealing to women and men alike, though he had a sneaking suspicion Sebastian didn't realize that about himself.

It wasn't just his looks, though. His warm brown eyes, with their intelligence and a hint of vulnerability, and a mouth that made Dylan crazy just thinking about kissing it and wondering what other talents it might have, only added to his appeal. And, God, you just had to love a man who could smile and have the patience of Job with all the senior citizens and families with kids who went in and out of his store all day.

Joanie at the bakery had told him many travel agents in the St. Louis metro area recommended Great Escapes Travel Book Shop to their clients. Never once had Dylan seen Sebastian be anything but friendly and easy-going with his customers... and he would know because he'd spent far too much time inventing excuses to walk his own customers to and from their vehicles and hang out talking to them on the sidewalk that ran in front of the stores just so he could watch Sebastian through the windows.

“You really need to get a life, Rad,” he said to himself, shaking his head. Thirty years old and he was crushing on the guy next door like he was a teenager. How sad was that?

Not as sad as it was yesterday or the day before or the week before that.

True, he thought with a grin. Because up until this afternoon he'd figured his secret fantasies about Sebastian were going to have to stay tucked away for all time and no one would be the wiser. He hadn't been sure, but he'd been afraid Sebastian was straight.

Then today, like a glorious revelation, he'd seen the light. No straight man would have been checking him out like Sebastian had done this afternoon. And once Dylan had caught the man at it and then seen the embarrassment on his face because he knew Dylan had caught him, there'd been no shutting off the flow of secret pleasure. He'd been careful, up to that point, not to ever let on he was attracted to Sebastian. But that slow perusal Sebastian had given him had encouraged Dylan to let him know the interest was mutual.

Of course, that didn't mean anything would come of it. For some reason Sebastian didn't like him. He'd checked Dylan out, no doubt, but there was something about him or his shop that rubbed Sebastian the wrong way. And damned if he could figure out what it was. Yeah, Ander had gotten carried away with the music a few times, but every time Sebastian had complained Dylan had responded and apologized. It was more like the guy just hated the whole idea of Dylan being here. Maybe he hated tattoo artists, or tattoos, or was some kind of conservative morality squad who thought the entire counterculture should be cleaned up. Or maybe he was close to the nice old lady who used to have the knitting shop in this space and he resented that she was gone and Dylan was in her portion of the building.

Shit. Who knew. Whatever was behind it, it was too bad because he had a feeling Babs was right and somewhere underneath that serious, pressed and polished exterior, a tiger lurked, just waiting to be freed.

He switched off the red and black neon sign in the window, pulled on his jacket, grabbed his helmet, and pushed through the front door into the darkening night.

As he did every night when he locked up, he savored the satisfaction of knowing his business was doing well enough he'd been able to upgrade to this location in this part of town. He'd come a long way from the poor kid from Poplar Bluff who'd worn hand me down clothes from a church shelter and held down three paper routes to help his mom put food on the table.

He turned to head for his motorcycle... and saw lights still on at Great Escapes. Stepping closer, he peered in the window. The back of Sebastian's light brown, neatly trimmed hair in the rear of the store caught his attention and caused a tremor of awareness deep within Dylan. It looked like Sebastian was sitting at a desk, head bent over something he was working on in the storeroom.

He hesitated for all of two seconds, then without giving himself a chance to think it through and reject the idea, walked to the glass door, which displayed a black and white “Closed” sign, and rapped on it with his knuckles.

From this position he could no longer see the man, but he watched for his tall figure to appear in the back room doorway... and wasn't disappointed when, seconds later, that's exactly what happened.

“Sorry, I'm closed,” Sebastian called, his voice muffled through the glass.

Dylan stepped backward until he stood in the light from the overhang of the building to be sure Sebastian could see it was him. Of course, given the way the man reacted to him sometimes, it might be better if Sebastian didn't realize it was him.

He saw Sebastian pause halfway to the door as he crossed through the store— no doubt he'd just recognized Dylan. Dylan couldn't make out the look on his face since the lights in the front of the store had been turned off and he was backlit by the yellow glow from the storeroom.