Guarded Desires (25 page)

Self-disgust churned in his gut every bloody minute. Disgust at hiding from the world, disgust at destroying Chris Huntley’s life. Every minute of every day, he berated himself for what he’d done, for what he was doing. Every minute of every day, he wished he could take it all back. Go back in time to the moment Aslin Rhodes had called him from the States and asked him if he’d act as Chris’s bodyguard while the actor was in Australia promoting his film.

And every time he wished he could change history, acrid self-contempt flooded him because he knew he wouldn’t even if he could. The seven days he’d existed in Chris’s world were the most incredible, wonderful, amazing days of his life. Nothing could ever come close to the night he spent in Chris’s arms, in his bed. He’d never felt so whole.

If it was possible, he hated the man for ruining him for any future sexual partners even as he knew there would never be a second when he didn’t love Chris for giving him those few seconds and minutes and days of sheer paradise.

Of course, just to add to the fun of his existence now, whenever he
thought
of future sexual partners, his gut rolled as if his body rejected the notion of someone else apart from Chris penetrating him.

He wasn’t surprised. He knew for a fact his heart and his soul would reject anyone else entering his body for the rest of his life.

Fuck a bloody duck, he was a waste of space.

A pathetic, gutless waste of space.

Slamming his fist into the punching bag, he focused on the burning pain radiating through his overworked muscles, the searing heat in his raw knuckles.

Inside his ears, Eddie Vedder and Pearl Jam growled and sang, pummeling at the constant thought of Chris. At this rate, Liev reckoned he’d be insane by Friday. Two and a half weeks after experiencing absolute happiness in Chris’s arms and he would be ready to be admitted to the nuthouse. It was kind of fitting, really. A bloke like him would have to be insane to do what he’d done—destroy another man’s life because he was horny.

It was always more than sex, Reynolds. And you know it.

The wretched thought tore at what was left of his control and, a roar ripping at his throat, he smashed his bleeding fist into the bag one last time before stumbling away from it.

This was no good. None of this was working.

He needed…

Chris.

Grinding his teeth on the tormenting name, he snatched his towel from where it hung on the bench-press weights and stormed from the garage, slamming the door shut behind him.

He’d go for a run. Maybe a few hundred miles of pounding the pavement would—

Movement to his right snapped him around, his fists raised.

“Jesus, Caitlin,” he burst out, yanking the buds out of his ears at the sight of his niece climbing through his living room window. “What the hell are you doing? You’re lucky I didn’t hurt you before I realized it was you.”

Caitlin glared up at him, struggling to disengage herself from the curtains and the venetian blinds as she planted the foot inside his house on the floor. “If you’d answer your fucking phone I wouldn’t be needing to put my life at risk, would I?”

Stunned disbelief shot through Liev. He scowled, hurrying over to his niece to help her escape the soft furnishing. “Since when do you use language like that?”

Brushing her hands on her thighs, she shot him a look he could only describe as scathing. “Since you became a fucking moron.”

He narrowed his eyes and jabbed a finger at her. “Okay, that’s enough, girlie girl. What are you doing here?”

With a grunt and a huff at her fringe hanging over her eyes, Caitlin shoved her right hand into the back pocket of her shorts and withdrew an iPhone cased in a candy-pink shell. “There’s someone who wants to talk to you. Someone who gave up trying to get you on
your
phone and decided to do it via
my
phone.”

She thrust the smartphone out toward him, glare firmly in place. Liev had never seen her so angry. Or so like her father. If it weren’t for the fact her anger was directed at him, he’d give her a hard time about it.

“Hurry up,” she snapped. “I didn’t just break my bloody thumb wriggling open your window for you to just stare at my phone, did I?”

Biting back his chuckle, Liev took her phone from her fingers and raised it to his ear. “Hello?” He had no idea who would be calling him on Caitlin’s phone, but if it was someone from the media he was tearing them a new one for coming at him through his teenage niece. And then he’d track them down and tear them a new one in person. No one put Caitlin in this kind of situation without paying the—

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing, Reynolds?”

Liev’s gut dropped into his balls at the sound of Aslin Rhodes’s thunderstorm voice.

“How many sodding years have we been mates, and this is what you do?”

Liev squeezed his eyes shut, his grip on Caitlin’s phone growing tighter. In the fortnight since he’d withdrawn from the world, there were two people he wanted to talk to more than anything, even as he hoped neither would ever want to talk to him again. Chris and Rhodes. Now it seemed one of them had done the unforgivable and got at him through Caitlin. Trouble was, not only was Rhodes in the States, Liev knew he couldn’t tear the Brit anything, let alone a new arsehole. He deserved Rhodes’s rage just as much as he deserved the man’s contempt. He’d not only destroyed Rhodes’s trust in him, he’d made him look like a bloody fool.

Hot guilt lashed at him, churning his sickened gut. Caitlin was correct. He was a fucking moron.

Scrubbing his free hand at the back of his neck, he stared at his feet. “I’m sorry, Rhodes,” he muttered. “Jesus, mate, you have no idea how much I’m—”

“Going to regret what you’ve done?” Rhodes cut him off. “Sodding oath you are. I’ve got a brand new baby in my house and instead of spending my waking moments enjoying every precious second with her, all I’m seeing is my sodding brother-in-law moping around the place grumbling about being empty and incomplete and having his heart ripped out of his chest.”

Liev shook his head, the lump in his throat choking him. “I’m sorry, mate. I really am. I know I fucked up and I…wait, what did you say?”

“Chris is grumping about our home,” Aslin growled through the phone, “
our
home, Reynolds, not his, constantly sulking about being rejected by the love of his life. If you don’t get your arse to L.A. ASAP and deal with the situation
I’m
going to have to deal with it myself, and trust me, Liev, you don’t want that. It’s not that I don’t like having my brother-in-law in my house, it’s just all the moping is beginning to sodding grate. I’m a tired, angry, fed-up Pom at this point in time, Reynolds. You know me well enough to know what that means.”

Liev frowned, unsure he’d heard what his friend had said correctly. “Back up for a sec, Rhodes. Are you telling me you’re not pissed I slept with Chris, you’re pissed he’s in your home—”

“Why the hell would I be pissed you slept with my brother-in-law? You’re both grown men and I like you enough to know family get-togethers wouldn’t be a living hell to experience. I’m pissed because you’re too gutless to accept what seems to me to be something pretty special, and I’m the one dealing with the fall-out because Rowan has her hands full looking after our baby girl. By the way, Rowan says if you don’t stop breaking her brother’s heart she’s going to kick your balls so far up into your
ass
, you’ll need a mining team to find them again. Her words, Reynolds, not mine.”

Liev blinked.

“And Liev?” Aslin’s voice was calm and laced with an emotion that might be mirth. Or menace. “I know you don’t
do
commitment, but I also know you’re not stupid or a coward. Or am I wrong?”

Before Liev could answer, Bethany’s voice sounded over the connection. “I’ve sent you an email,” she said, her American accent jarring so soon after Aslin’s British one. It seemed to Liev the whole world was furious with him at the moment. “Your niece has it opened already.”

The phone clicked in his ear, the connection terminated. Liev jerked the thing from his ear and swung around, his gaze falling on Caitlin standing behind him.

She grinned at him, holding out his open laptop. “See? I’m not the only one who thinks you’re being a moron.”

A scowl fell over Liev’s face. He ground his teeth, his glare sliding to the white screen of his laptop.

“Read the damn thing, Uncle L.” Caitlin shoved the computer at him. “Or I’m going to call you a wuss for the rest of your life.”

His head thrumming, his lips tingling, Liev lifted his laptop from his niece’s hands, lowered himself into the closest armchair and balanced his computer on his sweat-slicked knees. He stared at the screen, the subject heading of Bethany’s email simple.
Watch this.

He placed his fingers on the track pad and, feeling like he was engulfed in cotton wool, double clicked on the only content of Bethany’s message—a hyper link to a YouTube clip.

It was one of those late-night talk shows the Americans loved so much. The host had a shock of orange-red hair and an infectious smirk. He sat behind a wooden desk, grinning at the man sitting on a sofa beside him.

Liev’s heart slammed into his throat.

“Now tell me about this Australian,” the talk show host said, fixing Chris with a pinning look. “This…what’s his name, Liev Reynolds? Sounds like Liev Schrieber and Ryan Reynolds got together and made a bodyguard.” A superimposed image of Liev wearing a tux at the Australian
Dead Even
red carpet event appeared on the screen. “Oh my God,” the host proclaimed. “He
looks
like they did too. Damn, that’s an impressive looking man right there, isn’t it?”

The audience cheered and clapped and whooped. On the sofa Chris laughed. “Impressive is one word I’d use, Conan.”

The host leaned forward on his desk. “One word? What’s another?”

“Perfect,” Chris answered, his smile utterly relaxed. “Funny. Powerful.” He paused. “Sexy as all hell.”

“Wait a minute,” the host held up his hand. Liev’s gut knotted. “Wait a minute. That’s seven words.”

The audience laughed. So did Chris. “True though.”

“So, impressive, perfect, funny, powerful and sexy as hell? Anything else you want to tell us? Hairy ass? A tattoo? Birthmark shaped like a kangaroo? I couldn’t really tell from the photos.”

There was more laughter from the audience. Chris chuckled, shifting on the sofa to lean closer to the host. “None of those. But I will tell you, he’s got the best ass on the planet. Better than mine, in fact.”

The host whistled. “So is it love?”

Chris laughed. “Conan, Liev Reynolds is the man who made me realize who I really am. And I really like who I really am. If that’s not love, I don’t know what is.”

The host turned to the camera. “Yeah!” he said, pumping his fist. “I’m really, really a fan of love.” Turning back to Chris, he held out his hand. “Thank you for coming on tonight, Chris. And congrats again, not only on
Dead Even
breaking box-office records but on the announcement of the sequel. Thanks for sharing that news here.”

The clip ended.

Liev stared at the screen.

Without a word, Caitlin leaned over his shoulder and clicked on the top link on the right of the page.

Another clip opened, this one of a different talk show. The host sat behind a desk, Chris sat on a sofa, smiling at the audience as the host rattled off a list of records
Dead Even
had broken since its international release—fastest film to break one billion dollars in the US, fastest film to break one billion in Europe, fastest film to break one billion in the UK. Highest-grossing action film in U.S. history. Highest-grossing film of the decade.

“Which makes you a very successful guy,” the host pointed out.

Chris nodded. “It would seem so.”

The host straightened his note cards on the desk with a sharp rap. “So, this guy from Australia, what’s his name? Burt Reynolds?”

Chris laughed along with the audience. To Liev, he’d never appeared more relaxed or gorgeous. “Liev Reynolds, Dave.”

“Ah, that’s right.” The host adjusted his glasses. “He’s a big scary guy, isn’t he? How did you meet?”

Liev’s heart thumped faster at the cheeky grin that stretched Chris’s lips. “He was selected by my brother-in-law to be the perfect bodyguard.”

“And was he?”

Chris wriggled his eyebrows. “You’ve seen the photos, Dave. You tell me.”

The audience erupted. The drummer beat out a riff.

The host waved his hand, smiling. “Seriously, Chris,” he said, his blue eyes intent behind his glasses. “Are you worried about being so open about this? There aren’t that many action heroes willing to discuss their gay sex life. Do you fear your career will suffer?”

Chris sat back on the sofa and rested his arms along the cushions. “There should be more of us, Dave. There’s nothing to be ashamed about. Who I want to be intimate with, who I
chose
to be intimate with is neither offensive nor significant to what I do for a living. Someone I know very well told me just because I’m gay doesn’t mean I’ve less testosterone in my system. It just means I’ve got different taste.”

The audience applauded. The lump in Liev’s throat grew thicker. He stared at his laptop’s screen, drinking in the sight of the man who’d shaken his world.