I hadn't even wanted to take this part, but Evan had convinced me it could be fun. "You've never done a comedy before, and after the sociopath you played in that last movie, this will be a good change of pace," he'd reasoned. "Besides, it'll let you work on your tan--you're too pale, Mac."

So I found myself on location in a tropical paradise, with a suitcase full of sun tan lotions and skin care products provided by my spa-owner lover. The movie, a light-hearted heist caper set in a Caribbean resort, had been fun at first, and I certainly couldn't complain about the accommodations--until the monsoon season started early. Russ, the director, only needed a few more clear days to wrap up filming and insisted on waiting out the storms. He wouldn't let any of the leads fly back to the States in case the sun came out while one of us was gone.

I normally wouldn't have minded staying past the projected wrap date, but today was the first anniversary of the day Evan and I had met. I'd planned something very special to celebrate, and here I was stuck over thirty-five hundred miles away from him.

Alone.

In the fucking rain.

I was sitting under the covered patio of my cabana, nursing a Corona and watching more storm clouds gather over the ocean when a knock sounded at the door. A rather soggy-looking bellman stood outside, holding an umbrella precariously over a large package. I tipped him and took it from him gingerly, carrying it back to the patio and setting it on the table next to my beer. It had to be from Evan, and knowing my lover, there was no telling what might be inside.

Tearing open the paper eagerly, I was a little disappointed to see what looked like a standard spa gift basket. Did our anniversary mean so little to him that he'd just picked something up off the shelf to send me? There was a note taped to the top, and I sank back into the wicker chair to decipher Evan's handwriting.

Dear Mac,

I'm so very sorry we can't be together for our first anniversary. So I've sent you a few of our favorite things to bring you happy memories until you're back where you belong--with me.

I love you,

Evan

Looking at the basket more closely, I saw that instead of tissue, the contents were wrapped in a dark blue silk robe. Ashamed of my earlier doubts, I blinked away the sudden moisture that blurred my eyes. I could blame it on the rain and frustration and bad temper, but the truth was I just plain missed Evan. Untying the bow fashioned from the robe's belt, I let the material fall away and laughed out loud when I saw the first item nestled inside.

A bottle of blue nail polish.

Footwork

I expected to feel out of place the minute I stepped into the salon, and I wasn't disappointed. The obviously high-maintenance female behind the counter looked at me like I was something particularly nasty that had just crawled out from under her refrigerator.

"Can I help you?" she drawled, obviously wanting nothing more than to help me right out the door. I'd be there before it could hit me in the ass, too, if I didn't have a reason to be here.

"I have an appointment," I told her, probably not sounding any more pleased about it than she did. "Name's MacAlester Kerr."

I still thought it was a stupid idea, but Mark had insisted. He wanted some barefoot shots for the picnic scene, which was more than fine with me. But he wanted my feet to look more "polished" than their current natural state. I didn't see why the makeup people on set couldn't do whatever was needed, but when your director tells you he's booked you an appointment for a pedicure, there's not much you can do but go along, even if it means spending the afternoon pissing off the help at a place called Evan's Heaven Salon and Day Spa.

The receptionist frowned, creating some wrinkles she'd probably be horrified by if she only knew, and began clicking away at her keyboard. I took the opportunity to look around in amusement. The salon obviously catered to a top-tier clientele. Fine marble, expensive woods, and silky fabrics created an elegant atmosphere. Soft "lite" jazz (the kind that always set my teeth on edge) played quietly in the background. The customers waiting in the plushly upholstered lounge, sipping flutes of wine or imported sparkling water, were all highly made-up, expensively dressed women. I couldn't blame the receptionist too much for her attitude--my flannel shirt and jeans were glaringly out of place amid all this sybaritism. Hell, I was probably the only male in the place.

Or... not. The young man who stepped through the cut-glass doors from the salon's inner sanctum was definitely at home in the spa's refined aura. In his pink silk shirt and charcoal pinstriped slacks, he could have stepped straight from a photo shoot for GQ. He was tall and slender with an angel's face and a barely restrained mop of dark ebony curls that obviously benefited from plenty of the salon's products. The receptionist was ridiculously happy to see him, leaning toward him to whisper urgently with just enough twitches of her head toward me to make it clear who she was talking about.

The young Adonis turned his attention to me with a dazzling smile. "Mr. Kerr? Would you follow me, please?" Since he was heading into the salon and not out to the street, I nodded and trailed behind him, silently enjoying the view of his trim hips swinging perkily in front of me.

He led me into a private room that was, if possible, even more luxurious than the reception area. Closing the door behind us, he offered me his hand. "Welcome, Mr. Kerr. I'm Evan York."

"As in Evan's Heaven?" I asked. "I must have really scared your receptionist if she had to call the owner on me."

Evan chuckled. "I just bought the spa a few weeks ago, and we don't have much male clientele yet. She'll get used to it."

I realized Evan was still holding out his hand to me and offered my own in return. Something quivered in my stomach at the feel of his soft fingers sliding over my callused palm.

"A pedicure, eh? Sure I can't talk you into a manicure too, Mr. Kerr?" he asked, turning my hand over and running his fingers lightly over my knuckles.

The quivering turned into full-fledged tremors. My cock decided to stand up for a closer look at what was going on. Down, boy, I told myself. This is his job; just because he's the most stunning thing you've seen in a month of Sundays doesn't mean he's coming on to you. Hell, he works surrounded by beautiful women. Why on earth would you think he's attracted to men?

"Just a pedicure, thanks," I growled, the tone coming out much harsher than I intended. "And please, call me Mac," I added in a softer voice. He glanced at me curiously at first and then flashed his alluring smile again.

"Fine, let's get started then, Mac," he said, nodding toward something that looked suspiciously like a throne against the opposite wall. I must have looked totally lost, because his smile faded slightly.

"Have you had a pedicure before?" he asked.

"You're my first--I mean, no, this is my first one," I stammered. Get a grip, Kerr, I told myself sternly.

The smile was back. "A pedicure virgin? I promise not to do anything you don't like," he teased. Our eyes met and held for a moment. I recognized the look in those rich chocolate depths. Damn! Maybe he was coming on to me after all.

Taking pity on my ignorance, Evan gestured toward the chair. "This is the pedicure station," he explained. "We'll start with a foot soak to relax you and soften your skin, followed by moisturizing, trimming, exfoliation, and a massage." He leaned over the chair and turned on a faucet, testing the water temperature as it began filling the basin at the foot of the "throne." I took the opportunity to once again admire the trim ass bent before me.

Once he was satisfied with the water temperature, Evan selected a bottle from a shelf above the chair and poured a capful into the basin. A tangy scent wafted up in the steam rising from the bowl.

"Grapefruit, mint, and eucalyptus," he told me. "It's my own blend. I prefer it to the floral scents we offer for the ladies.

"If you'll take off your shoes and have a seat...." Evan hesitated, glancing at my slim-legged jeans with concern. "You'll never be able to roll those up enough to keep them out of the water," he observed. His eyes glittered wickedly. "Perhaps you should just slip them off."

Fuck--he was definitely coming on to me. The way my cock was dancing against my zipper, it thought Evan had made an excellent suggestion.

If I'd known I was going to be dropping trou, maybe I would have worn some boxers underneath them.

I could feel my cheeks reddening involuntarily. The look Evan gave me said he knew exactly why I was blushing. Chuckling again, he turned to a closet nearby and, after rummaging inside for a moment, offered me a deep blue silk robe. "Here," he said, "why don't you slip into this? I'll get a few supplies together and be right back." He winked at me over his shoulder as he left the room.

I stripped off my jeans and, after a moment's hesitation, my shirt as well. Hanging them on a hook behind the door, I slipped into the robe, belted it firmly around my waist, and climbed up gingerly onto the pedicure chair.

Evan returned carrying a basket filled with bottles, tins, and mysterious utensils. "That's a great color on you," he commented admiringly. "Really brings out your eyes."

I leaned back in the cushioned seat, discreetly making sure the robe hid my growing erection. A good thing, since when Evan straddled a stool in front of the chair, his eyes were directly level with my groin.

Reaching beside me, Evan flipped a series of switches on the side of the throne. The seat cushions began to vibrate gently as a series of jets in the basin churned to life. Evan slid my feet into the water, his hands lingering on my calves just a moment longer than necessary.

"Just relax," he said quietly, beginning to arrange the items from the basket on a low table next to the pedicure chair. I closed my eyes for a few moments, letting the warmth of the water and the soothing vibrations of the chair lull my senses.

They snapped back to full awareness the minute Evan reached down to lift my feet out of the water, settling them on a thick towel draped over the lip of the basin. He pumped a handful of lotion into his palm and began slathering it over my right foot.

"This is a moisturizer," he explained, his strong hands smoothing the lotion up my calf. I could imagine those hands smoothing over another part of my anatomy, which quickly signaled its enthusiasm for the idea. I tried unsuccessfully to will it down as Evan repeated the treatment to my left foot.

"Do you go barefoot a lot?" he asked, wiping the excess lotion from his hands on another towel.

I snorted, which had the unfortunate effect of causing the sides of the robe to slither down my thighs. Catching them just before I flashed the spa owner, I settled them back over my legs, tucking the ends under one thigh to hold them tight. Evan's lips twitched, but he refrained from commenting on my reaction.

"Yeah," I admitted. "As often as I can. How can you tell?"

He slid his fingers gently over my toes. "You have fewer calluses than most people," he said, trailing along the outside of my feet to my heels. "But it tends to dry your feet out more than normal." His touch was sending tingles pulsing up my legs. "You really should moisturize them every day."

I really hoped he hadn't noticed the way my cock twitched against the robe when his fingers caressed my insteps.

"You have beautifully shaped feet," Evan told me, rubbing them lightly. "Have you ever considered modeling?"

"I'm an actor," I admitted, surprising myself. That wasn't something I normally told people, especially when we'd just met. Something about this gorgeous young man was definitely getting to me. "That's why I'm here. My director wanted my feet to look a bit neater."

"You mean my work is going to be displayed on the silver screen?" Evan grinned. "Then I'll have to give you my extra-special treatment."

I knew what kind of treatment I'd like to give him.... Swallowing hard, I gritted my teeth and told my cock firmly to behave itself. It was unimpressed.

"I'm going to clean up your cuticles first," Evan continued, picking up an implement that looked like something someone would threaten you with in a dark alley. He concentrated for the next few minutes on pushing back and trimming away the skin around my nails, giving me a chance to talk my arousal into uneasy submission.

"You keep your nails nice and trim," he said, sounding a bit surprised. "I'm just going to smooth off the edges."

"I do own a nail clipper," I protested. "I even know how to use it."

Evan just smiled as he ran a file over the tip of each toe. Then he picked up what looked like a small white block and buffed the surface of each nail vigorously.

"Let's see what we can do with these heels," he said next, selecting something shaped like a shoehorn. Dipping it into the water, he lifted my foot and rubbed it firmly over each heel in turn, pausing occasionally to pass his hand over the skin before rubbing some more. After a few moments of this, he nodded in satisfaction and returned the tool to the table.

"This is an exfoliant," he said, dipping his fingers into a jar of deep green goop. He massaged some of the gel over each foot in turn, paying special attention to the heels. My cock, which had taken a break while Evan was holding sharp implements, began to respond again to the feel of his hands touching me.

Evan dipped my feet back into the water to rinse off the gel, then dried them tenderly. Flipping a switch to let the water drain, he pumped out more moisturizer and began to massage my right foot in earnest. I realized his slim hands were much stronger than they looked as they firmly pressed every sensitive spot on the underside of my foot. I shifted my hips, trying to hide my growing erection without freeing the robe from where I held it closed beneath my legs.

Evan turned his attention to my left foot. It became increasingly hard--literally--to hide my arousal, since my cock was throbbing with each stroke of his hands over my skin. When he slid those strong hands up my calves, I couldn't hold back a soft moan of pleasure.

Evan's melting brown eyes met mine and searched them before dropping to my lap. Following his gaze, I was mortified to see a glaring wet spot staining the silky fabric of the robe. The sound Evan made could only be described as a purr as he lifted his eyes to meet mine once again.

"I'm so glad I'm not the only one feeling this way," he murmured. "I've been hard since the minute I saw you in the lobby."