All the Way to Shore Read online

  “You like the ocean? You must!” Sophia beamed, and despite his dread, Jonathan found her irrepressible enthusiasm appealing.

  Anthony took her arm. “Sophia, I can tell you some fish stories you would not believe.” He led her a few feet away, chatting and laughing, leaving Jonathan and Marco staring at each other.

  “Have we met before?” Marco frowned thoughtfully. “You seem familiar for some reason.”

  Hell. The jig was up. Damn Anthony. As he opened his mouth to confess who he really was, however, something took hold—a rebellion against the old Jonathan Vallen. The old him would’ve mumbled an embarrassed apology and slunk away. But the novelty of standing on the deck of a cruise ship with Marco Pellegrini eyeing him like he was a sexy stud was too good to pass up. He wanted to be Jonah Rutledge, sexy stud—at least for today.

  Jonathan straightened his shoulders, met Marco’s eyes, and raised an eyebrow. “I don’t think so. I would have remembered meeting you.” He felt his cheeks warm at his boldness. He was flirting! With Marco, of all people!

  Marco laughed and lowered his voice a notch. “You’re right. I don’t think I’d forget meeting you either. Would you like another drink?”

  “Sure.”

  Marco walked off to the deckside bar. As Jonathan’s gaze followed his lanky form, he felt a cold sweat break out despite the humid ocean breeze. He’d just lied through his teeth to Marco Pellegrini, shark-eating CEO of Vallen Industries. Anthony turned from where he stood with Sophia a few feet away and gave him a thumbs-up as the steel band swung into another reggae number. Jonathan swallowed down his fear and concentrated on turning into a person likely to have a shipboard fling—with anyone, let alone someone like Marco.

  Chapter FOUR

  AFTER HE and Jonah finished their first drinks, chatting easily the whole time, Marco procured two more Caribbean Zombies from the bar and skirted around the steel band and the small crowd dancing. He smiled at the sight of Sophia and Andrew cavorting to the music. Sophia loved to dance, so he was glad she had Andrew to satisfy her dancing addiction while he concentrated on getting to know Andrew’s handsome cousin, Jonah. Who still reminded Marco of someone, but hell if he knew who. None of the players from Marco’s past, thank God. Jonah struck him as an unusually sweet guy so far. It felt soothing talking to him, and just what the doctor ordered for this R & R.

  As he got closer to the deck chairs, he took a moment to run his gaze appreciatively over Jonah. Tall, about his height of six feet, and nicely muscled, but not one of those excessive bodybuilder types Marco saw at the gym. In fact, Jonah had a little meat on him and a softness to his abdomen that Marco liked. His mother came into his mind: Mangia, mangia! More pasta. She would pat his cheek, loving eyes scanning his face. Don’t you get too skinny on me, tesoro. Marco let his gaze linger on what appeared to be a very nice package in Jonah’s shorts. Nothing skinny about that. Let’s just say he’s filled out in all the right places.

  And Jonah had a nice face. Again, not like a model, thank God. Marco had had his fill of the pretty boys with the vacant brains. Jonah’s face was open and thoughtful, and his eyes were a lovely dark blue. He had the light complexion that meant you could see every blush, which was amusing because Jonah blushed whenever Marco looked at him. Marco liked that too—the fact that Jonah was shy. Running in the business circles he did, Marco contended with enough type A alpha dogs, along with having to be one himself. This week, Marco intended to shed his go-getter persona, slow down, and enjoy the moment.

  Jonah caught his eye, a bashful smile breaking out on his face. Oh yes, Marco planned to enjoy quite a few moments with him.

  Returning the smile, he held a drink aloft. “For you.” He savored the brush of Jonah’s fingers against his as he handed him the coconut-shell cup. “Another Caribbean Zombie.”

  “Thanks.” Jonah bobbed his head to the reggae beat as Marco settled into his seat. “Good band. I’m glad Anth—uh, Andy found your sister to dance with. Otherwise he’d be bugging me nonstop to get out there.”

  “Yes, Sophia’s the same way. But I’m liking this.” Marco gazed at the blue ocean and the sun sinking lower on the horizon. It appeared they were in for a beautiful sunset.

  “Me too.”

  Marco glanced over to find Jonah’s eyes—the color of the ocean—on him. And although he blushed again, Jonah kept his eyes steady, giving Marco a considering look.

  “What?”

  “You seem different.” Then Jonah clamped his mouth shut, like he’d said something wrong.

  “Different? What do you mean? Like weird different or special different?”

  Jonah visibly relaxed. “Sorry. I mean, um, different than how I would think someone like you would be. Or act. Or….” The color rose in his cheeks, and he gave an uncomfortable laugh. “I’m screwing this up. I’ve been such a hermit lately, I’m not used to talking to people, especially not handsome men.”

  Inclining his head to acknowledge the compliment, Marco zeroed in on what interested him. “A hermit? What do you mean?”

  “I live in a cottage on Cape Cod. I moved out there about a year ago.”

  “You live alone, then?”

  “Yeah. Well, me and Cantata, my sheltie.” Jonah wore a doting expression—he was clearly besotted with his dog. “I got her right after I moved, and she’s been a good companion.”

  “Pets are great for that.” Marco thought about Bunny, the magical cat, no doubt turning up an imperious nose at Letitia, his neighbor who had promised to stop in daily to feed her. “But why the name Cantata?”

  “Oh. Well, I like baroque music, Bach’s cantatas in particular.” Jonah’s shrug seemed apologetic.

  “Do you?” Marco leaned forward in his enthusiasm. “So do I!”

  “No.”

  “Of course! I love classical music of all kinds.”

  Jonah sat up, face bright, and moved closer. “Tell me some of your favorites.”

  They sank into a conversation about music so absorbing that it took Sophia and Andrew coming over for Marco to realize the stars were twinkling in a dark sky, and they had completely missed watching the sun set.

  “SO? SPILL, Jonny! This is so exciting—you and Marco Pellegrini! Divine! You looked so into each other on those deck chairs, me and Sophia almost hated to interrupt you.” Anthony leaned closer to the mirror. “Is that another gray hair? Begone!” He plucked out the hair, then turned to Jonathan, who had fallen onto one of the beds in their stateroom, exhausted. “Well?”

  “He’s… nice.” Jonathan stared at the ceiling. “Way nicer than I remember him being. Now I feel awful about lying to him.”

  “Oh, honey, don’t even go there! He doesn’t need to deal with your Jonathan Vallen baggage, and neither do you! You’re here to have a fling, remember? Hot sex, hot men, hot tropics, baby! Marco is obviously interested in Jonah Rutledge, so run with that and have a ball.”

  Jonathan made a face. “There’s something faulty with your logic, but I’m too tired to figure it out.”

  “Well, perk up, doll! We’ve got dinner in an hour, and I want to dress you up.”

  “Huh?” Jonathan propped himself on his elbows to peer at Anthony. “This isn’t Formal Night, is it?”

  “No.” Anthony leered at him. “It’s Leather Night.”

  Jonathan fell back on the bed with a groan. “Kill me now.”

  “My advice is to stop resisting and go with the flow.” Anthony pawed through a suitcase. “Where did I put our leather vests? Tell me more about what you and Marco talked about.”

  “Music.” Jonathan smiled, remembering. Who knew he’d find a musical kindred spirit in Marco Pellegrini, of all people? It had been sheer joy talking about the composers they loved, and Marco had been flatteringly impressed that Jonathan had attended Berklee College of Music, where he’d sung Bach cantatas in choral groups and studied piano, organ, and harpsichord.

  “Music, huh? That’s perfect for you. And so is this.”

  When Antho
ny held up a piece of leather that resembled a harness more than it did actual clothing, Jonathan sighed. He hoped his nipples wouldn’t be on display—not at the dinner table, anyway.

  “He likes classical. We have surprisingly similar tastes. I almost told him about singing in the chorale, but I didn’t want to say anything placing me in Boston after college.” He put a hand over his eyes, remembering his gaffe. “Jesus, I already almost blew it. I told him he seemed different.”

  Anthony’s eyes got round, and then he giggled like a bad little boy. “Oh, tarnation! What did he say?”

  “He didn’t pick up on it, like that it meant I knew him from before.” Jonathan clutched the bedspread. “Crap, Tony, how the hell am I going to pull this off? Maybe he’ll dump me for someone else tomorrow and I won’t have to worry.”

  “Bite your tongue, honey. Here’s what you do: dive into your Jonah persona—wow, it even rhymes!” Anthony did a little dance, singing, “Jonah persona, oh yeah, Jonah persona,” until Jonathan threw a pillow at him.

  “What does that even mean? Pretend to be someone I’m not? Not likely.”

  “No.” Anthony perched on the edge of the bed and stared down at Jonathan. “You know who you’re not? You’re not Jonathan Vallen—poor little rich kid and self-saboteur. That’s history. Just be yourself. Your real self. Gay, musical, loves flowers and dogs, sweet guy, cute as a button. You’ve never let that guy totally out, and now’s your chance.”

  “If you say so.”

  “Of course I do. You’re going to be the self you’ve never let out of the closet, babe. Jonah Rutledge!”

  “Oh, God. All right.” Jonathan could never resist Anthony’s enthusiasm for long. He was still wavering about when to tell Marco, though. Maybe at the end of the evening. A memory darted in of Marco gazing at him like he wanted to eat Jonathan up. Then again, maybe he could stretch out being Jonah for as long as possible. “I’ll be Jonah. For now.”

  “Excellent!” Anthony leaned over and kissed his cheek. “And I, for one, pray you don’t ever shove him back in. Even after you go back to being Jonathan.”

  “I’ll try not to. Oh, and I’m calling you Andy, okay? It’s close enough to Anthony, in case I screw up.”

  “It’s a plan, Jonah Persona. Now, put this thing on.” Anthony gave him a leather vest that at least wouldn’t leave him half-naked.

  “Okay.” He sat up and tried it on over his T-shirt. “Good. No nipples.”

  Anthony rolled his eyes. “Why not nipples? You have great ones! I don’t know why I even bother. And take off that T-shirt.”

  Chapter FIVE

  MARCO WALKED into the dining room clad in tight leather pants and a black tank top, a leather band around one bicep. He wasn’t into the leather scene, so he hoped this would suffice for Leather Night. Sophia had assured him he was “smexy,” whatever that meant.

  She strode beside him, stunning in her tight leather corset and black leggings. She scanned the room, then broke into a smile. “There’s Andy and Jonah! I wonder if we’re sitting with them.”

  Marco followed her gaze and nearly stumbled. Sweet Jonah looked positively edible and extremely hot in a leather vest over his bare chest. The fact that he still exuded a touch of shyness, the color high on his cheeks, made him that much more alluring. Marco suddenly burned to talk to him again, sit next to him and drink in those ocean-blue eyes, chart the blushes that came and went, and peek at how far they extended down his torso.

  They took their assigned seats at the captain’s table. This was supposedly an honor, no doubt due to Marco’s prominence as a businessman. Marco said hello to the assemblage of mostly middle-aged men, many of whom appeared to be there with their partners, and the one other woman at the table. No one here to interest him. They might be good business contacts, but he wasn’t here for that. He scanned the room and finally found Jonah and Andrew on the other side at what appeared to be a much livelier table of guys, most clad in outrageous leather outfits. Someone who was wearing a harness and not much else leaned over to talk into Jonah’s ear. Marco noticed he’d clenched his fist around his napkin.

  “…Mr. Pellegrini?”

  The sound of his name brought Marco back to his own table, where the captain tilted his head at him in a question.

  “I’m sorry, Captain Nystrom, can you repeat that?” Marco pasted on a charming smile. On his other side, Sophia was deep in talk with an LA lawyer and his architect partner about LGBT protections and her internship at Lambda Legal.

  “I said, is this your first cruise?”

  Servers came around, filling wine glasses and setting down small plates of salad.

  “Yes, actually. I’ve always wanted to go on one, especially with your cruise line. It has an excellent reputation.”

  All true, but Marco schmoozed for a living and it wearied him to have to do it on vacation. He cast another glance at Jonah’s table, where everyone was laughing uproariously at something Andrew was saying, then squared his shoulders and turned to Captain Nystrom for more small talk.

  RELIEF CAME during the dessert course when Andrew suddenly appeared at their table, eyes sparkling under his fetching leather headband and looking well into his cups, as they said in the historical novels Marco liked to read.

  Sophia grinned at him. “Andy! What’re you doing here?”

  “I thought maybe I’d sit with you while Marco goes to keep Jonah company.” He put a hand on Marco’s shoulder and said in an audible whisper, “You need to rescue him. The rest of the guys are talking BDSM, and poor Jonah is in over his head!”

  Andrew seemed to notice Captain Nystrom for the first time and clapped a hand over his mouth. But the captain merely gave him a serene nod, which Andrew returned with a mischievous smile.

  Marco stood. “Excuse me, everyone, while I go rescue a friend. And please welcome another friend of ours, Andrew Arrington.” He turned to the captain. “Thank you for dinner, Captain Nystrom. It was nice chatting with you.”

  As Marco left, he heard Andrew say, “I loooove your uniform!” Jonah peered at them from across the room, and when Marco headed toward him, he broke out into his shy smile. Harness Guy leaned in, trying to monopolize Jonah’s attention, but when Marco reached the table, Jonah only had eyes for him. And what pretty blue eyes they were.

  “Hi, Marco.”

  “Mind if I join you?”

  “Not at all.” Jonah’s pleased voice was music to Marco’s ears.

  Marco’s gaze strayed to the wiry light brown curls peeking out from behind Jonah’s vest. He approved. Another male fashion that left him cold was a waxed chest. His eyes dropped to take in Jonah’s tight leather shorts molded to his thighs and crotch. Nice. He let his hand fall casually on Jonah’s shoulder as he pulled out Andrew’s empty chair, while shooting a “back off” glance at Harness Guy. Game over, buddy. The dude scowled and turned back to his dessert.

  Once seated, he couldn’t help but smile at Jonah’s sweet face. It made Marco happy just to sit next to him. “How did you like your dinner?”

  “Okay. I—” Jonah’s sentence got drowned out by raucous laughter and hoots as someone across the table told a story in which butt plugs played a featured role.

  Marco leaned over and said in Jonah’s ear, “How about we get out of here and go look at the stars?” Hoo boy, Pellegrini, you’re turning into a cheeseball. But he didn’t care, especially not when Jonah turned that becoming shade of pink.

  AM I dreaming? Because this is wild. Never in his most bizarro dreams had Jonathan stood on the deck of a cruise ship dressed in a hot leather outfit and gazed up at the stars with an even hotter Marco Pellegrini. He felt Marco’s warmth as they rested their arms on the railing, shoulders brushing, eyes turned skyward. Then the splendor of the Milky Way washed over him.

  “It’s… breathtaking. How cool to be out at sea with no other lights. I never realized how few stars you see in Cape Cod.”

  “Yes. Even less in Boston, I’d imagine.” Marco contemplated th
e sky as Jonathan snuck a glance at his handsome profile. “The only time I’ve seen stars like this was on a camping trip I took in the Adirondacks.”

  “Do you like to hike?” Dumb question alert.

  “Hike? Not particularly. It was a leadership-building weekend for new entrepreneurs.”

  “Oh. Do you… play sports or… golf or something?”

  That got a laugh out of Marco. “Do I seem like the golfing type?”

  “Not really.” Jonathan didn’t know why he was pursuing this ridiculous line of questioning. But the Marco he’d imagined from what little he’d seen of him a year ago was a cold, efficient machine who engaged in manly pursuits and belonged to the country club. Someone much like his father. “I just… you said you were a CEO in Boston, and for some reason I envisioned you on a golf course.”

  “No. I work out at a gym to stay in shape and blow off steam. I didn’t play sports in high school, and at Harvard I was too busy studying my ass off to keep up with all the preppies who’d had private school educations. Unlike me.”

  “You didn’t go to private schools?” Jonathan had, of course. He’d assumed Marco had also, given how polished and sophisticated he was.

  “No.” Marco frowned. Then his face relaxed as he turned his eyes back to the sky. “I hear you can see shooting stars out here if you look long enough.”

  Jonathan tilted his face skyward as well. “I’m sorry about asking you so many questions. I realize I have some dumb stereotypes about hard-driving CEOs.”

  “That’s okay. Most people do. But I’d rather not talk about work and all that, if you don’t mind.”

  “Oh, sure. I don’t mind at all.” Less chance for Jonathan to have to hear about Vallen Industries and be reminded what a big fat lying loser he was. Stop it! scolded Anthony in his mind. He attempted a carefree expression. “We’re on vacation!”

  “Yes, we are!” Marco gave him a dazzling smile. “As far as work goes, let’s just say I’m a go-getter when I have to be, but otherwise I’d much rather be home with Miss Bunny listening to music.”