Any Excuse (Max & Skyler 2)

Any Excuse (Max & Skyler 2)

by Acer Adamson


"I could just as easily go to the salon across the street," Skyler said, the slightest hint of a smile on his face.

"Don't be silly." Max painted another stripe of red lacquer onto Skyler's left thumbnail, careful to avoid jarring the nasty bruise on that slender, delicate hand. "I really don't mind helping out." Any excuse to be this close to you is a good enough one for me.

Skyler clucked his tongue, shook his head and sighed. "So terribly clumsy of me, to trip up the stairs like that."

"At least your hand is only badly bruised." Max smiled. "It could have been a lot worse." Scared the shit out of me anyway.

With Max between brushstrokes, Skyler slid his chair a little closer to him and their knees bumped under the table. Skyler gave him a coy smile.

Max's face felt instantly warm. Jesus, you're beautiful. He ran his gaze over Skyler surreptitiously, the same way he did with a suspect in custody before an interrogation. Quick and nonchalant, a speedy assessment of small details and subtle nuances only detective-types seemed to notice.

Skyler had his shiny, jet-black hair tucked tidily behind his ears, the center part neat as always. He wore his makeup typically subtle and perfectly applied. Shadow warmly highlighted his green eyes, he had a rosy glow to his cheeks, and the barest hint of wine-colored lipstick brought attention to his beautiful mouth. Max still couldn't get over Skyler's amazingly smooth complexion, flawless even without foundation. Skyler was one of the lucky ones who didn't have to shave and, unlike most men, he didn't have pores you could drive a truck through.

The perfect skin, the pretty face, the graceful manner and feminine clothes had Max utterly convinced upon their first meeting that Skyler was a woman. It had taken Skyler putting Max's hand between his legs that first night while they were dancing to convince him otherwise. That had been a real kick in the pants, and Max still found it hard to believe sometimes.

And how Max had ended up like this—more or less domesticated, sitting at a kitchen table in the rear of a dress shop polishing his boyfriend's fingernails—well, sometimes he found that sort of thing hard to believe, too.

Boyfriend. It hadn't really been in his plans to fall in love with another guy, but here he was anyway. Max blew out a small, quick breath and dipped the brush in the little bottle.

"You're awfully good at this, Maxwell." Skyler gazed down at the table, watching Max work. "If I didn't know better, I would think you've had some experience."

"What do you mean, know better?" Max swiped another stroke of Revlon Firecracker Red onto one of Skyler's nails. "I had a girlfriend once who had really long nails. She used to like me to polish them for her."

Wait for it . . . .

Wait for it . . . .

"Oh, she did, did she?"

"Uh huh." Max grinned, getting a little charge out of Skyler showing a jealous streak.

Skyler placed his right elbow on the kitchen table and propped his chin on the back of his hand, taking obvious care not to smudge his wet nails. Smiling a wee bit too cheerfully, he said, "This was back when you still thought you were heterosexual?"

Max chuckled and finished Skyler's ring finger, pausing a second before moving on to the pinky. "No. That was back when I knew I was heterosexual."

"Oh, of course." Skyler smiled sweetly.

Max felt sure that Skyler didn't buy that for a second, just as he felt fairly certain that Skyler wasn't done grilling him about the chick yet. He cleared his throat and kept working, fighting to suppress a grin.