"Apparently. What are you doing in here anyway? Sitting in the dark and..." Sloan heard him sniff. "And

drinking. I'm surprised I didn't smell that booze out in the hall."

"You didn't answer the question."

Craig flipped on the light switch and Sloan cringed as the photons pierced his retinas.

"I was out," said Craig as he flopped down on the divan. "And, lover or not, it's not really any of your

business. Besides, you've got no right to cast stones at me for disappearing. By the time Franki and I got back to the cars you had already left. Didn't say a word to anybody. I would have been as good as stranded if it wasn't for her. What the hell happened?"

"I had something I needed to do." He held up his glass to illustrate.

Craig's eyes opened a little wider. "You've been up here drinking-alone-all this time?"

"Maybe," he said defensively.

Craig studied him. "You're not quite drunk. That's something."

"That's right. You can't go too fast." Sloan felt his irritation evaporating as quickly as the alcohol. It was

odd how Craig's presence always had such a calming effect on Sloan. Maybe it was his damn

level-headedness. When it wasn't driving Sloan crazy it was keeping him anchored to sanity. Sloan continued. "This is an exacting science. You've got to keep up a slow, steady rhythm." He leveled his hand and eased it up an imaginary slope until it hovered just before his eyes. "Achieve and maintain for maximum mind-numbing effect. That's the idea. Achieve and maintain."

Craig leaned forward and propped his elbows on his knees. "What did Troy's father say to you?" "Nothing important." He just set me on the edge of a precipice and gave me a little nudge. "Well, Bree was so mad she could barely speak. You're gonna have some explaining to do." "No, I'm not. We're leaving in the morning." In his drunken ruminations he'd almost forgotten about that. He was getting away. It wasn't nearly far enough, but it was something. "I already made the reservations. The plane lifts off at 9:30." He rubbed his temples. "And if I'm lucky the hangover won't catch up with me until ten or eleven."

Where a moment before Craig's expression had been concerned and sympathetic, now it switched instantly to disbelief and...anger?

"You had no right to do that without consulting me!"

Sloan's head jerked back in shock. "Are you kidding? I'd have thought you'd be all too eager to leave this lovely world of faux homosexuality behind. I hardly thought I had to ask your permission."

"Well, you should have talked to me." Craig vaulted from the divan and stalked to the windows. "I can't leave."

Sloan tried to blink away the haze of confusion and alcohol. "What? What do you mean, you can't leave?"

"I just can't, okay? Not yet anyway. I..." He shrugged, still staring out that damn window. "I'll stay by myself if I have to. But I can't walk away now."

At last Craig turned around. He stood there, with his hands shoved deeply in his pockets and his eyes riveted to Sloan's chest. He looked...guilty. There was no other word for it.

"Walk away from what? Will you tell me what you're talking about? What happened after I left? You were gone an awfully long time, considering the barbecue was pretty much over when I took off. Wha-" Something struck him and his mouth froze mid-vowel. He blinked and slowly closed his mouth. "What did you say about Franki?"

Craig's eyes darted to his and a pale pink flush crept up from his neck. "Oh, shit," mumbled Sloan. "She didn't. You didn't! Please tell me you didn't!" "All right. I didn't." "Oh God. You did." Sloan groaned and leaned forward to stem off a wave of nausea. "Do you have any idea what you've done?"

"I think I have a vague recollection of the mechanics of it, yes."

"Don't be cute."

"I wouldn't dream of it. That's your department," said Craig dryly.

"This is serious," growled Sloan. "You've blown my story wide open. Franki's not exactly known for

her discretion. I bet she's chatting with Bree about it over a bottle of wine as we speak. Now we've really got to get out of here before she spills our secret and the shit hits the fan."

"No."

Sloan pushed himself off the couch and took a couple of wobbly steps toward his friend. "What do you

mean, no? You had your fun. You had those silky thighs wrapped around you once. You and half ofBay's Haven. Now it's-" "You son of a bitch! That's a shitty thing to say about a woman who's a friend of yours."

"That wasn't an insult. It's the simple truth. She'd be the first to agree with me." Craig stepped closer, until he stood almost nose to nose with Sloan. "Well, then, I'm insulted. Lay offthe easy-lay comments or you'll have to stick your nose back on with glue."

Sloan staggered back, stunned. He felt like the rug had been ripped out from beneath him. Again. His levelheaded compatriot had disappeared, swallowed up by this strange new entity with the blazing hazel eyes and the fiercely jutting chin.

"Are you nuts?" rasped Sloan. "You sleep with her once and you think you're in love with her, orsomething?" Craig just stuck his jaw out a little further. His bony chest was heaving and his fists were clenched. "Surely you know why she seduced you."

"It couldn't possibly be because she was attracted to me?"

"Come on, Craig. You're a nice guy, but you're hardly her type. She came after you because she suspected I was lying, and she knew you'd be more vulnerable to her charms. I'm sorry to be the one to burst your bubble, but she used you, my friend. It's as simple as that."

"She used me to get to you. Is that it? Someone like her couldn't possibly be interested in someone like

me."

"Oh, don't whimper about it. You're just mad because I bruised your ego a little. You'll feel better once you're back among the starlets and the sunshine."

"You know, sometimes I don't really like you very much, Sloan. I hate it when you act the insensitive,superficial Hollywood clod." "Maybe I'm not acting. Maybe I am an insensitive clod."

"I'm not going."

Sloan blew out a slow breath and reached for the liqueur. He poured himself another finger in the hopes that it would help dull his senses to this otherworldly encounter with this stranger who had once been Craig Sternberg.

Over the last few days Sloan's entire world had been tipped on its end, and tonight felt as if it was all

slipping away into oblivion.

He tossed back the contents of the glass, but when he looked at Craig nothing had changed. Craig's shoulders were still rigid and his eyes were still shooting fire. And Sloan's sanity was still in jeopardy.

"Dammit to hell!" moaned Sloan in frustration. "What do I have to say to get through to you?"

"Just why are you so desperate to leave all of a sudden, anyway? You're just going to walk out on Bree? And Troy? You're just going to keep right on ignoring them? Lying to them?"

Sloan turned away. "You don't have a clue as to where I'm coming from. You don't know shit."

"Oh, I know shit. I know you, after all." Craig grabbed the bottle and twisted the cap on tightly. "But what I don't know is what's happened to you over the last few days. I've never seen you drink this much. You look as used up as an old dishrag. You're lying to people you supposedly care about. You won't talk about your family, or even so much as drive past the house where you grew up. You're treating me like shit, and yourself even worse."

Sloan clamped his mouth shut, unwilling to even respond to those accusations.

Craig flopped down on the divan. "Well, I've finally found someone I really connect with. Believe it or not, I think Franki likes me for me. And I like her for her. I'm not a fool. I know why she came on to me at first, but we've talked about it, and I think we can get past it." He cracked a sly grin. "Believe it or not, Sloan, I think you're forgettable. And maybe-just maybe-I'm the one to help her do it."

Sloan felt himself soften. "It's just that Franki has a tendency to use up men and toss them away when she gets bored. I just don't want to see you hurt."

"And I don't want to see you hurt. But you're already in so much pain it just about kills me to look at you."

Sloan stiffened, but said nothing.

"And I think you'll regret it if you don't come clean with these people, and figure out how the hell you're going to get over whatever it is that's eating away at you."

"I just need to get away from here."

"Then go. Run away. I'm not stopping you. But I'm not going with you, either. I'll come back eventually, but not until I figure out where I stand with Franki."

"I thought I could count on you."

"Don't give me that. I'd say I've gone above and beyond with this whole charade. But obviously it's gone far enough."

"You just don't want to play gay anymore," said Sloan, but then he cringed at his own petulance. Why did the thought of leaving without Craig bother him so much? He was a big boy. He could go on an airplane by himself. But for some reason he just didn't want to be alone with himself right now.

"No, I just won't watch you self-destruct anymore." Craig paused and briefly considered the stars that winked at them from the Milky Way. "What happened today, Sloan? That thing at the pool was thoughtless and stupid, even for you. And then to take off without saying goodbye to anybody. What's going on? What are you running from? What are you afraid of?"

Sloan crossed the room in a heartbeat and grabbed the bottle. He stalked toward the door. "I'm not afraid of anything. And I don't need your psychobabble self-help crap. I just need to go home. This isn't home anymore, thank God. And whether you're with me or not, tomorrow I'm getting on that plane." "Where are you going now?" "Out. I need some air." "Then leave the booze." Sloan opened the door and stepped out into the hall. "Thanks, Craig, but I don't need a mother. I need a friend." And he slammed the door behind him.

But on the other side of that door, when he was alone in the long, dim, empty hallway he leaned against the wall and willed his body to stop shaking. And then he willed his feet to move. Now, if he could just figure out where the hell he was going. * * * * * Craig stared at the closed door. He raked his fingers through his hair and muttered a few Yiddish curses. He really should go back to California. The deadline on this piece was looming. This contract, their reputations and their very livelihoods were at stake. It wasn't worth jeopardizing it all for a sweet little piece of- No. He couldn't even bring himself to think of her that way. His mustache curved with a slow smile. It had been one hell of an afternoon. Twice on the beach, and then back to her place for a co-ed shower to wash the sand out of all those pesky little nooks and crannies. Perhaps the sand itself was a nuisance, but the accumulation and subsequent eradication of the gritty irritant had given him no cause for complaint.

They had followed that with a little pizza and Chianti on her terrace, which looked out over the lake. They had watched the moon come up and the stars pop out while they finished off the wine and shared more stories of misunderstood childhoods and unrequited loves.

Despite all the logical arguments against it, maybe he was falling in love, as Sloan had suggested. His and Franki's personalities couldn't be more blatantly opposite. And yet he and Sloan had somehow managed to forge a lasting partnership. Maybe there was a lesson in there.

And maybe he'd just had too much sun.

The phone rang.

He grabbed up the receiver. "Hello?"

"Craig?" asked a familiar voice.

"Yeah. It's me, Bree. You looking for Sloan?"

"If you mean that rude, inconsiderate, cowardly son-of-a-something that you're sleeping with, then yeah.

Is he there? Or have you already killed him and disposed of the body?"

Craig winced at the reference to their relationship. But he wasn't going to spill the beans. Let Sloan slug it out with her. "No. I let him live. I decided to let you do the honors. But he took off, and I don't know where he went."

She muttered something decidedly unladylike. "What's going on with him?"

"Actually, Bree, I don't like it. He'd been drinking. A lot. He's upset about something, but he wouldn't tell me what's wrong."

The other end was silent. "I think I know where to find him. Do you mind if I talk to him?"

Craig was confused by the question, but then he thought he understood. She was afraid he'd feel threatened-as if she were trying to hone in on his territory with Sloan. "No. That's okay," he said thickly. "I think you've got a better shot at getting him to spill his guts than I do."

"Okay. Don't worry about him. I'll find him." She hesitated. "And Craig?"