Chapter 5

Cameron was determinedto get Dusty onto the dance floor. He understood that Dusty wasn't focused on him tonight, and that was reasonable. All the same, Cam was focused, and the more he saw, the more he wanted to clock out for the night and try to make things personal.

The compliments came from everywhere—about Dusty's performance, his speech, his incredible suit—and Dusty never once said, "I know, right?" or "Do you really think so?" or any of the annoying things he used to say while fishing for more praise. He was humble. He said thank you. He offered kind compliments in return.

Cameron was very into Dusty 2.0.

"Oh, my God. I need to sit." Dusty took a bright-pink cosmopolitan from an adorable young man offering them on a tray. "Take one, Cam."

"Okay." He took one because Dusty asked him to and that was the job, but he had no intention of taking more than a sip. He wasn't big on the fancy drinks. He was more of a straight-up whiskey kind of guy.

He found a little nook with an ornate, padded bench in it and pulled Dusty over to sit. "This okay?"

"If I can put my butt down, it's perfect. And there's room for two butts. Sit, baby."

He knew better than to make anything of Dusty calling him "baby." Dusty used to call everyone baby, and the diminutive used to make him crazy.

He waited for Dusty to get settled with his cosmo, then set his drink on a little side table and sat beside him. "Are you having fun?"

Dusty shook his head, but it wasn't a no; his blue eyes went wide and he took a big sip of his drink. Then he got his answer. "I am on some cloud. Somewhere way beyond nine. Like nine hundred and nine. I'm awed by all of this, and I don't feel like this is my crowd yet, you know? I still can't believe I'm here. I'm absorbing everything. It's a lot. But I guess that's fun? Fun doesn't seem like a big enough word."

Listen to that. Who was this guy? "That sounds exactly right to me." Would it be rude to point out how different Dusty was? Probably. "You used to be such an asshole" was probably not something you wanted to tell a man you were thinking about stealing a kiss from before the night was out.

"You think?"

"I do." He rested a hand on Dusty's thigh. "I wouldn't ever want to end up like Brad Kilner—that jaded about all of this, like it wasn't special. Are you tired?"

Dusty laughed. "Exhausted, but I'm not going anywhere yet."

When Dusty's fingers ghosted over the back of his hand, he grabbed them. "Will you dance with me?"

"Yes." Dusty turned to look at him. "Let's dance."

"Gentlemen, excuse me." Cameron didn't know the woman who stopped in front of them, but she was obviously from the press. She had a badge on a lanyard around her neck, which stood out strangely against her party gown. "You're both so handsome. Would you mind if I took your picture?"

"For…?"

"Oh, I'm so sorry. I'm Sarah Small, I'm the official photographer for the event. It's your first time at the ball; I ought to have introduced myself."

"Oh. Um." Dusty glanced at him, checking in, and he nodded. "Okay. Should we stand up?"

"That's up to you—you look perfectly happy sitting together." She crouched in her dress like the pro she was. "Say cheese."

He put an arm around Dusty's back and smiled, and she took six or seven shots.

That was going to be a great picture.

"The photo I choose will be sent to Ann for her press file." To Ann. Everyone really did know everyone in this business. "Very good to meet you. Dusty, congratulations. So well deserved."

"Thank you, Sarah."

She gave them each a polite nod; then her eyes were up as she left them, searching the room for her next shot.

"She was nice."

He grinned at Dusty. "You're getting too used to the paparazzi. That's how photographers should behave."

"I guess so."

Dusty hadn't tried to shrug his arm off his shoulders, so Cameron left it there, his fingers gliding over Dusty's upper arm. "So…dance?"

"Dance." Dusty nodded and grabbed his hand.

He found himself being led through the crowd, and he was completely okay with that. Dusty pulled him onto the dance floor, and they made their way into the middle.

The music was louder out here than it was at the buffet. He found the speakers trained on the dance floor and pointed to them, then to his ear. Loud, he mouthed, because there was no way Dusty was going to hear him over the thwomp-thwomp-thwomp of the bass. He curled a hand around Dusty's waist to keep him close and they moved together, relaxing as the beat settled into their bones.

Dusty's every move was fluid and easy as he danced with the music. He'd always been so graceful on the dance floor. Cameron liked to dance, but it wasn't something that came naturally to him, so he tried to ride the wave of moving bodies and just enjoy it without worrying whether he looked like an idiot.

He'd been to so many elite parties, private affairs, and receptions that he never felt uneasy in a crowd, but he wasn't often this relaxed either. Dusty made him feel like he had permission to enjoy himself.

He glanced up at Dusty, checking in like you did when the music was loud and words were impossible, and was surprised to find Dusty watching him, eyes locked on him as if he were the only man in the room. That gave him goose bumps and he swallowed hard, feeling that warmth spread through him again. He'd blame the sweat on the dancing.

They were close, his hand still holding on to Dusty's hip, but Dusty moved in even closer until their chests bumped together and their hips moved in unison. He didn't care about the optics; this was Dusty's show. If Dusty was okay with tomorrow's potential rumors, that was all that mattered.

He couldn't know for sure, but if that look was to be believed, who knew what tomorrow might bring anyway?

It was easier to dance with Dusty than on his own. They'd always fit, and they'd had some fun together. He tried to put the way they turned each other on out of his mind for now, even if Dusty was sending pretty heavy signals. However much he wanted things to turn personal, he was on the clock, and he was supposed to keep a cool head.

But as someone once said, you can't always do what you're supposed to do.

Someone had said that; he was sure of it.

He slid his hand farther around Dusty, taking care to stay on the right side of the line between into each other and X-rated. Dusty felt good in his arms, and they moved together without thought.

"You're such a gentleman," Dusty shouted next to his ear.

He heard that loud and clear and he nodded, turning his head to shout back, "I'm on the clock."

Dusty rolled his eyes and leaned close again. "So, if you weren't…then what?"

He squinted at Dusty, and shook his head no.

"Don't be a stick in the mud, Cam."

Okay. He raised an eyebrow at Dusty as if to say, "Challenge accepted."

"I'd wedge my knee between your legs. Give you something to feel."

He was proud of the wide-eyed look Dusty gave him and the way his ex's lips parted in what had to be a moan. He raised a smug eyebrow.

You asked for it…

And he'd been happy to oblige. He'd meant every word.

Dusty made a goofy show of composing himself and leaned close to his ear. "When do you get off work?"

Oh, fuck him.Now. Now would be ideal. Surely there was a coat closet or a service elevator or something. He knew better, though. He liked his job and intended to stay employed. He made damn good money and all he had to do was be discreet, handsome, and available a few times a week.

"When you decide the party is over." There were still people to meet, and dessert hadn't been put out yet. "So, I guess you'll have to be patient. This is your night."

"I think I'm glad you're here." Dusty smiled.

"You think?" He laughed, knowing Dusty couldn't hear it.

He got another eye roll. The music shifted, the beat still heavy but slow and sexy. He pulled their bodies together, dancing in a lazy circle. They were cheek to cheek in one of his favorite moments of the night with Dusty holding on, letting him lead.

* * *

God, he smells so good.

Dusty leaned into Cameron and swayed with the music. He wasn't dancing really, just letting Cameron move them, loving the strong arm around his waist, even if it was confusing.

It was definitely confusing. Cameron had broken his heart and left angry. Dusty understood why now—he'd grown into a better human since then, but that didn't mean he was ready to reboot that relationship. It wasn't all his fault. Cameron always had to be so goddamn right all the time; it had been so frustrating. So who was this guy now?

Cameron moved him out to arm's length, all smiles, then reeled him back in and turned them in a circle, and Dusty decided he didn't need to think that hard tonight. They were dancing. He felt as though his feet were floating above the floor, and it was all he wanted right now.

The song didn't so much end as fade and morph into the next one. This one had a stronger beat and quickly ramped up into something like club music. The lighting changed with it and became sharper, brighter, with neon lasers cutting across the dance floor in green and blue. It broke whatever spell he'd been under a second ago, the mood in the room shifting along with the lighting.

Cameron didn't hesitate. He turned them, keeping one arm tight around Dusty, and moved them right off the dance floor.

Dusty blinked, disoriented at first, but he was laughing by the time they broke free of the crowd, and Cameron grinned smugly at him. "We hate that."

"We are not club people."

"We are so not." Cameron shrugged. "I mean, I love watching, but that is not my scene."

He glanced around, not sure what he was looking for except… "I need a drink."

"Another cosmo?"

"No, no…I think I need something?—"

"Dusty! Oh good, you're done dancing. Come on. We have a spot." Jack put a hand on his arm. "Come on, Cameron. Grab something off the dessert bar and come with me."

They followed, and Jack was good enough to let them peruse the enormous dessert bar and fill plates before they wound their way past another crowd and through a heavy, ornate door.

A quieter group was in here. Once the door closed behind them he could still hear the music, but the lighting was moody and low. There were candles on the tables and servers wandering about with cocktail trays and coffeepots.

Dusty's ears were ringing now that he could hear again, and he was glad for the break from the noise. "Oh. This is?—"

"Better. I know you're not a club-music person."

"I'm not." He didn't realize his hand was in Cameron's until Cam squeezed his fingers. "And neither is Cam."

"We have a table." Jack pointed and the whole cast gave a wave.

Adding two chairs made everyone pretty cozy, but no one seemed to mind.

"Are you having a good time?" Lita picked up a glass of champagne and sipped it.

"The best time. I'm so overwhelmed by all of this."

A server stopped by the table. "We have champagne, boozy coffee, and not-boozy coffee."

"Oh, boozy coffee, please."

"I'll have the same." Cameron's voice sounded rough, and he cleared his throat. "Too much shouting on the dance floor."

"I know, right?" They hadn't been shouting that much, had they? Some quick banter but mostly just dancing.

"Cameron, you are very comfortable in this crowd."

"I used to work for a company that catered events like this, back before I started working for myself. I never worked an awards party as big as this one, but I've come close enough. And celebrities are everywhere in this town. At some point, I learned they're just people like everyone else."

"Shh…don't go telling too many people that. We're supposed to be bigger than life, and bulletproof."

"Your secret is safe with me."

That got a nice laugh, and Dusty felt strangely proud that this charming man was his date. Hired or not. "How did you find this place? This room?" The door was pretty inconspicuous.

"Joline—" Jack pointed across the table.

"Actually, it was Madison."

"I was in the bathroom and heard someone talking about a break-out room. I don't usually eavesdrop, but it sounded so oddly corporate and out of place that it caught my attention. I asked a waiter how to get here."

Joline took a tiny little gooey-looking bite from her dessert plate. "They're so resourceful."

"Joline immediately went and gathered up the gang."

Jack picked up his champagne. "I am so glad, too. I was starting to feel assaulted by the music."

"I know the feeling. I've never been a club person. I mean, I can enjoy it for a while, but boozy coffee and sweets sounds so much better."

"This little baklava looks amazing." Cameron picked up the same little gooey thing Joline just tasted and popped it into his mouth. "Mmm."

Joline nodded. "Mhm. Luscious," she managed to say, mouth still full.

"Do you bake, Cameron?"

Cameron nodded, still chewing. "Everything."

Cam managed to lie so smoothly, it was scary. It almost made Dusty question how much truth there was in anything Cameron had said—or done—that evening. But that wasn't fair. Cam hadn't been paid to lie to him.

Had he?

"I have one client that wants a new cookie every time I'm there. The first thing I do when I arrive at their place is put something in the oven. Chocolate chip, snickerdoodles, peanut butter cookies, oatmeal raisin…nothing fancy, they just like to have cookies around."

"What's your favorite thing to make?"

"Pizza, believe it or not. Pizza is so much fun, and everyone loves it."

"Pizza? In this town? You must not have movie stars for clients."

"Very few, in fact. But I can do gluten free and reduced calorie, cauliflower crust—if you can call that crust…"

He winced. "Cauliflower, ugh."

"I make killer cauliflower mashed potatoes. You'd like them."

"As cauliflower maybe, but not as potatoes."

Cam grinned at him. "Challenge accepted."

Jack seemed to be enjoying the banter. "Oh, ho! Can we come?"

Cameron glanced at Dusty. "That's up to the best-actor award winner."

"Oh, uh…I'll be in touch." Dusty tried not to look shocked. How the hell was he supposed to answer that? Cam wasn't really a chef, and he wasn't sure he could afford to hire him again anyway.

"Excellent. Maybe next weekend. We should have dinner in any case; keep in touch." Everyone turned to look at Steve, who had been leaning back in his chair and drinking his boozy coffee.

"You're so sweet, Steve." Lita patted his knee. "Let's stay in touch about the weekend. Or soon."

The conversation shifted to Jack and Emily and their show dogs, then over to Lita and her obsession with ancient Egypt. They talked about Joline and Madison's upcoming honeymoon, which they'd put off while shooting Until It's Over.

After a while the conversation wound down, and Lita pushed away from the table. "I hate for the party to end, but I think I'm done."

Bruce had been quiet all night but staunchly by Lita's side. When she stood, he stood with her. "I'm going to take her home, folks."

One by one, everyone else stood too, and it was only then that Dusty noticed how much the room had cleared out. It had been packed, and now the tables were almost empty. The music had gone softer too.

"Should we all walk out together?"

"That sounds good." Jack pulled a server aside and gestured to the table. He got a nod in response. "There are cars waiting."

"Oh, fantastic. Thanks, Jack."

They hugged and kissed and said their good-byes here where it was quieter, then were all on their way. They were routed past security, where they picked up their awards on the way out.

Cameron rested a hand on his back as they waited for their car. "Tired?"

"Not really? Maybe a little." He was still flying.

Joline looked at her wrist, but she wasn't wearing a watch. "What time is it?"

"Are you sure you want to know?" Jack laughed.

He turned to Jack. "Three?"

"Four thirty. I think the sun will be up soon."

"No fucking way."

Cameron showed him his watch.

"Wow."

"I know. That was quite the party."

He and Cam went silent again as a black car pulled up. A doorman type in white gloves opened the back door for them, and he smiled and thanked him before climbing in.

"So fancy, that guy must be exhausted. Can you imagine having his job?" He couldn't do it; he was so impatient.

"I hope he's paid well."

"Where to, gentlemen?"

"Oh. My house." He gave his address.

"One stop or two?"

He looked at Cameron. "One stop or two?"

Cameron held up a finger and pulled out his phone, and after a few taps, put it away again. "I'm officially off the clock."

After a split second's hesitation, in which the angel on his shoulder tried to convince him there was no reason to rush a good thing, he went with the devil, who was way more fun. "Just one, please." He tangled his fingers in Cameron's shirt and took a kiss.

"Yes, sir." The driver chuckled, and a privacy screen between the front and back seats went up.

Cam pushed the kiss deeper, fingers curling around his nape and keeping him there, and he practically went up in flames, heat filling his chest and need settling into his groin.

It was just a kiss…and it wasn't. Cameron wanted him, which was surprising and wonderful given how they'd broken up, but the layers of emotion that were building between them as they kissed got to be too heavy for him after a while, so he broke it off.

"Cam—"

"I'm sorry," Cameron blurted out, eyes searching his.

"I'm still me."

Cameron squinted at him. "You're a better version of you."

It was true, he thought he was a better person, but?—

"And I'm a better version of me. I'll show you."

He'd needed to hear exactly that, and Cam seemed to understand, offering it before he had to ask.

It was more than enough for him for now. Or for tonight, for a day, or whatever it was. It was more than enough.