“Maybe,” she said, grinning. “He’s certainly looking forward to running with this new kind of format. I hope he warned you that it’s going to be a stop-start affair this afternoon. Can get a little boring for visitors. I’ll get you set up with headphones, and if you could just lose the bow tie, you’ll blend in perfectly.”
Marshall had explained to Spencer how they would run the Moresby interview along the lines of an old UK television show calledThis Is Your Life, and how guests would not appear in person in the studio, but on the large screen.
Leaving the stage behind, he followed the woman and entered the shadowy depths of the studio. Eventually she stopped outside an unmarked black door, lifted one side of her headphones and placed her ear against the surface beforerapping her knuckle a couple of times. After turning to him, she opened the door with her shoulder and waved him in.
Marshall sat in a leather chair facing a huge mirror, a towel around his neck. As Spencer entered, he spun the whole seat around towards him. The thin woman standing over him with jet back hair and an ear full of earrings holding a powder brush—clearly the makeup person—jumped back as the chair rotated. A couple of black-T-shirt-wearing staff lounged on an old brown leather sofa.
“Team, this is Spencer,” said Marshall, while they all studied him. From their knowing smiles, he had the distinct impression Marshall had been talking about him. Spencer faltered for a moment, unsure of how much people knew about them both.
But Marshall leapt up from his seat, ripped off the towel and moved forward to Spencer. Without hesitating, he placed his hands on either of Spencer’s shoulders and planted a kiss on his lips.
“Spencer’s my boyfriend,” came the words, loud and proud, warming Spencer to the core.
“And now I’m going to need to reapply,” said the makeup woman in a stern voice, but grinning nonetheless. “Will you please sit down and hold still, Marshall?”
“Spence, the grumpy prima donna here is Chase. And over there on the settee are Kerry-Anne, our OB producer, and Colm, our cameraman, who are both coming to Kryszytonia with me. We’ve just been having a briefing to finalise arrangements. Guys, do you think you could give me a few minutes alone with Spence?”
Still grinning, the two on the settee jumped up and headed out. Chase stood back, threw the brush into a bag on the tabletop, then thrust her hands onto her hips.
“Five minutes, Marshall. I still have a lot of work to do and you’re on in thirty. So no nookie while I’m gone. Nothing that’s going to mess up your hair, anyway.”
As soon as Chase had closed the door behind her, Marshall pulled Spencer against his body, their foreheads touching. Spencer savoured a combination of faintly perfumed powder and breath mints.
“Boyfriend?” said Spencer, unable to stop his grin.
“Do you mind?” asked Marshall.
“Are you kidding,” answered Spencer, sure his gaze had already answered for him. “Hey, was I supposed to bring something? You told the woman who brought me here that I have something for you.”
Marshall chuckled before squeezing a hand down between their bodies, down in between Spencer’s legs.
“Yes, and you can give it to me later tonight, after Darcy’s.”
Spencer chuckled before kissing Marshall, but then pulled his head away, puzzled.
“Darcy’s?”
“She’s having a private after-show cocktail party tonight. Naturally, you and I are invited. After which we’ll head back to yours as agreed, and you can show me just how much you appreciate me doing this gig. Then we’ll enjoy a leisurely Saturday morning lying in bed, with whipped cream and marmalade on croissants, pots of fresh coffee and the daily papers. How does that sound?”
“Sounds absolutely perfect.”
“How about a preview?”
Spencer had begun to enjoy this needy side of Marshall. He marvelled at how easily they could lose themselves in each other, bodies pressed tightly together, Spencer deepening their kiss and Marshall’s hands roaming down his body and clamping tightly onto his backside.
Neither heard the door open.
“Mr Highland—?”
Even as he came back to earth, Spencer would have recognised that voice anywhere.
Muriel Moresby.
“Yes, Muriel,” said Marshall, turning to her but without releasing their embrace. Spencer placed the back of his hand across his mouth, and turned away, unable to stop the grin tugging at his face.
“I—uh—I just wondered if there were any last-minute items we needed to go over. And I wanted to check to see if you’d received the Blackmore hamper, or if there was anything else we could get you.”
“No, I think everything is covered. And thank you, Blackmore has certainly gone the extra mile,” said Marshall, his arms tightening around Spencer. This time Spencer could not resist turning to look at Muriel. As expected, the usual pinched moue tightened her lips as she met his gaze, but after a moment, she managed to squeeze out a stiff smile.
