All the Way to Shore Page 5

  “Miss Bunny?”

  “Bunny is my cat. Her full name is Bunny the magical cat.”

  Jonathan grinned for real this time. “I like cats too. My mom had a cat named Guinevere.” He suppressed a wince. What kind of hot guy talks about his mother?

  But Marco’s gaze at the stars grew fond with remembrance. “Mine loved cats too. Mama was always feeding stray cats in the alley. They’d follow her down the street. I guess I take after her. Not in feeding strays, but in loving cats.” He glanced back at Jonathan. “Does your mom still have her cat?”

  Jonathan swallowed, hit by the familiar pain, and took hold of the railing with both hands. “No. She died. Two years ago this month, actually.” He stared at the sky, his eyes prickling. Maybe seeing a shooting star would distract him. “I miss her every day.”

  Marco put his hand over Jonathan’s for a fleeting moment. “I’m sorry. Mama’s been gone seven years this month, and I still miss her. She talks to me a lot, though.” He raised an amused eyebrow.

  Jonathan’s hand still vibrated from Marco’s brief touch. “Talks to you? What does she say?”

  “Oh, stuff she always said. ‘Mangia, mangia!’ Eat, eat! And ‘Call your sister!’ And she’ll nag me about other things too.”

  From his expression, Marco clearly adored his mother. Jonathan chuckled. “She sounds like she kept you in line. And really loved you.”

  Marco sighed. “Yes. Sophia reminds me of her so much, which makes me happy. But I still miss her. No one could make spaghetti carbonara like my mama.” He stepped back from the rail and stretched—quite a sight in his tight pants. Jonathan tried not to stare. “You want to walk around the deck?”

  “Sure.” Jonathan fell into step with Marco’s long strides, wanting to shake his head in wonder. The Marco he was getting to know on this cruise bore so little resemblance to the cold, efficient Marco he’d encountered a year ago.

  “I must sound like a crazy person.”

  “What about? Your mom talking to you?”

  “Yes.”

  “No. It sounds fun. I wish mine talked to me that way. But she never was much of a talker. She, um…. I knew she loved me, and she’d sit and listen to me play piano, or we’d garden together. And so now when I do those things, I feel her there with me.”

  Marco nodded. “That’s nice. Is that at the cottage you live in?”

  “Uh-huh. It’s been in my mother’s family for years, and when she died, she left it to me.”

  “And what do you do for a living?”

  Jonathan felt his stomach clench. “Um, nothing right now. I… I was in a high-powered job that I hated for many years. When I quit a year ago, I decided to take some time off.”

  “It’s good you can do that. I’m thinking about taking some time myself after I wrap up my current job. But I’ve been so driven for so long, I’m not sure I’d know what to do with myself.”

  This was where Jonathan was supposed to ask Where do you work? But damned if he was going to lead Marco into talking about Vallen Industries.

  “What kinds of things interest you? I know you love music and cats. And you don’t play golf.” They smirked at each other. “What else would you like to do if you had more time?”

  “Hmm.” Marco pursed his lips in thought, which only made Jonathan want to run his finger over them to see if they were as soft as they appeared. “I love reading, so I can see myself reading a lot more. Travel is okay, but I’d want to do that with someone. I don’t like traveling alone, although I’ve done a fair bit of it for work. Have you done much travel?”

  Jonathan thought about the yearly trips to Europe he’d been dragged on with his parents and brother when he was young. He’d liked checking out the cathedrals, formal gardens, and art galleries with Mother, and enjoyed going to music concerts of any kind, but ruins and historic sites didn’t interest him. As for the sporty things Father and James had preferred, he could’ve cared less about skiing when they were in the Alps or sailing when they were on the Riviera. He’d hidden out at the hotel and read, much to his father’s dismay.

  “Some. I’m not all that interested in doing tourist stuff, but I like investigating the art and music. Also cathedrals.”

  Marco studied him. “I love cathedrals. Are you Catholic?”

  “Episcopalian.”

  “Religious?”

  “Not particularly. But I used to enjoy the ritual of the Mass. And the music, of course. What about you?”

  “I’m Catholic. I used to be deeply religious when I was a boy. I thought I wanted to be a priest. But the whole being-gay-is-a-sin thing pissed me off.”

  “I hear you. Was your mama disappointed when you decided not to be a priest?”

  “She was crushed at first. But after I came out to her, she decided she was angry at the Catholic Church instead for not accepting her wonderful son as he was.”

  Jonathan smiled. “She sounds great.” Then he remembered Tony dishing about Marco’s supposed girlfriend. “Are you out? At work, I mean?”

  “Not really. I’m sure they all think I’m straight because I was dating the daughter of one of the board members.”

  “Oh. So you’re bi?”

  “Yes, as in I can perform with women sexually. I can get interested on a purely physical level. But… for as long as I remember, it was men I wanted to be with, men I dreamed of, and I’ve only ever felt deeply emotionally drawn to men. My dating Ashley was a cop out.”

  “That’s honest.” In fact, he couldn’t believe how much Marco was spilling his guts—like he’d had all of this stuff pent up, and now that he was airing it, he couldn’t stop. Jonathan decided it was his time to spill. “My mother knew I was gay, but I’ve never really come out to my father. He knows, though. We had a… an incident when I was seventeen and fell in love with my music tutor, and Father would have liked nothing more than to have him drawn and quartered. He got him fired from the music school and made him leave the state. Then told me I wasn’t ‘that way,’ because if I was, he’d get me some therapy to straighten me out. So I lied and told him I wasn’t, that it was Gregory who made me think I was.”

  Marco’s steps slowed, and he turned to Jonathan. “Oh. That’s rough. That must have hurt.”

  “It did.” For the second time that night, Jonathan felt on the verge of tears. “Wow.”

  “What?” Marco stopped walking and leaned closer, peering intently into Jonathan’s face.

  Jonathan paused, nonplussed, not used to being so focused on. “I… I’ve never told anyone about that except for Anth—Andy. You’re a great listener!” he blurted.

  They stood facing each other, eyes level. Something rose up inside Jonathan, something that seemed to vibrate between them. Whatever he’d thought having a shipboard fling would entail, it was nothing like this.

  “Jonah.” Marco’s voice rose barely above a whisper. He put out his hand, but just as he placed it on Jonathan’s cheek, thumb caressing Jonathan’s cheekbone, another voice rang out.

  “There they are! Ohmigod, guys, we’ve been searching all over!”

  Anthony’s cry cut into Jonathan’s haze of unreality, and he turned his face from Marco’s warm hand with reluctance.

  “Hi.”

  Anthony and Sophia emerged from the shadows, tropical drinks in their hands.

  “Come on, the drag show’s about to begin! Then we’re going dancing in the disco!” Anthony executed a few stumbling dance steps, splashing drink over the side of his glass.

  Laughing, Sophia took hold of his arm. “This one’s feeling no pain. Andy, maybe Jonah and Marco would rather stay out under the stars.”

  “Ohhh.” Anthony gave them a wide-eyed gaze, swaying slightly in Sophia’s grasp. “Yes, I forgot! Let’s leave the lovebirds alone.”

  Jonathan was about to agree when Marco spoke up. “Seeing the show might be fun, though. We can go with you all. Okay, Jonah?”

  Trying to breathe through the crushing sense of disappointment, Jonathan manage
d to nod. “Okay.”

  MARCO’S JOURNAL

  A FLING, I said. A hot shipboard affair. Blowing off some steam was my plan. Not falling for some sweetheart of a guy. But why not? What am I protecting myself from? The days of strategic relationships are over. I torpedoed that game when I broke it off with Ashley. But having a serious relationship—like something real—wasn’t on the table. Was it?

  All I can say is I’ve never talked to anyone but Sophia as much or as freely as I talked to Jonah today. He feels so comfortable—like a comfy pair of slippers or my ratty red sweater I wear at home. Home. That’s the word. He feels like home.

  But how can that be? I don’t know the guy. I’ve talked to him for a sum total of six hours. I think—no, I know—he was disappointed when I didn’t pursue something physical tonight. But damn. It’s already gone beyond a quick fuck. I don’t need that kind of action, no matter what I was thinking before I got on the ship. I’ve got Hank, the masseur with the happy endings, for that. And I don’t want to hurt the guy. Jonah. I don’t want to hurt Jonah. There’s something kind of naïve, almost innocent, about him, despite how hot he is. He doesn’t seem very experienced, in sex or relationships. I have to step carefully or this could end up being an unholy mess.

  Enough whining, Pellegrini. What’s the game plan? 1. Spend more time with Jonah and get to know him better. 2. ???

  Hmm. I’m rarely at such a loss. But maybe that’s what this trip is really about—venturing into unknown territory in more ways than one. Tomorrow we reach the first port of call. I want to take Jonah onto the island and wander the streets. Maybe find a little church. Spending time with him has me wanting to reconnect to my spirituality.

  Gratitude: Being in the middle of the ocean. Jonah’s blue eyes. Sophia the magical sister having so much fun. Rest. Renewal. A sweet man to spend time with. It’s enough.

  JONATHAN STARED at the wall in the dark stateroom, feeling the vibration of the ship’s engine and the slight sway from the water. What they said about ocean liners being too big to really feel the waves seemed true. But the sensation of moving, endlessly in motion, would be quite lulling if he had any hope of sleeping tonight.

  What am I doing? It’s not fair to Marco. But I don’t want this to end, and if I tell him now that I’m Jonathan Vallen, it’ll be over. He’ll know I lied to him, and he’ll know I’m the loser he couldn’t rehabilitate last year.

  He sighed. Just as well Anthony had been too drunk for much conversation, because Jonathan didn’t want to be grilled about what had gone on with Marco.

  Maybe I won’t have to worry about it. Marco didn’t ask me back to his room or even press me up against a wall somewhere. He’s probably not interested.

  But Jonathan knew that wasn’t true. The connection between them had fairly crackled. Despite the electricity of their attraction, Jonathan was glad they hadn’t slept together tonight, no matter what he’d said to Tony about wanting a shipboard fling. Jonathan wasn’t the sort to sleep around. Casual sex had never been something he wanted or could sustain. He was glad Marco hadn’t pushed for it—it would have somehow cheapened the bond they were building.

  What bond? I’m lying to him. I have to come clean. Tomorrow. I’ll tell him tomorrow.

  And with that thought, Jonathan finally fell into a fitful sleep.

  Chapter SIX

  “NO EFFING way, Jonny! Don’t you dare tell him. Not until after you get some. Ouch! Oh, my head. No more mai tais for me, at least not until tonight.”

  Anthony lay on his bed, a towel over his eyes to block out the light.

  “I hate lying to him.” Jonathan stood twisting another towel in his hands, his stomach in knots.

  “You want this to happen?” Anthony began to rise, then flopped back on the bed with a groan. “Jonny, you go on to breakfast without me. I’ll call for some coffee and plain toast.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Positive, doll. I can’t move from this bed. And you didn’t answer my question. Do you want this fling with Marco to happen?”

  Jonathan tossed his towel on the counter and regarded his own unhappy countenance in the small mirror. “That’s just it. It’s—it feels more serious than a fling. No, not serious, but… um, meaningful?”

  Anthony groaned again. “Oh my God, cousin dear, you are hopeless. No wonder I could never get you to pick anyone up. None of this shallow stuff for you. You’ve been waiting all these years for your prince to come along. Do you think this is meaningful to Marco, though? I don’t want you getting hurt.”

  “Yes. I mean, I think so. I think that’s why he didn’t invite me back to his room last night.”

  “Hmm. I thought it was because he’s sharing with Sophia.”

  “No. He actually made a point of telling me, kind of early on, that he and she have separate rooms.” Jonathan smiled, remembering the way Marco had arched his eyebrow. Then he sobered. “I’m pretty sure it’s not because he lost interest in me. He asked me to go on a tour of the island with him today.”

  “Well.” Anthony removed the towel from his face and stared at Jonathan. “That’s fascinating. Truly. I’m not sure what his game is, but how epic if you two end up falling in love.”

  “I… he’s so much more than that cold CEO I saw last year. He’s not cold at all. He likes cats and his mother and music. He listened to me like no one ever has, except for you, Tony.”

  “Aww. I have to say, this little cruise of ours has already gone beyond my wildest dreams. I call dibs on best man at your wedding! As long as I get to wear a pink tuxedo.”

  Jonathan came over and sat on the edge of Anthony’s bed. “But how can any of this be real when it’s based on a lie?”

  Anthony huffed out a sigh. “Okay. Here’s what I think. Remember what I said about ‘be yourself’—be your Jonah Persona and not Jonathan Vallen?”

  “Yes.”

  “Every time you talk about telling Marco the truth, what I hear is you retreating back into Jonathan ‘the hopeless loser’ Vallen. Like that’s the truth.”

  “Isn’t it? I mean, I am Jonathan Vallen.”

  “No, no, no, cuz! Leave that guy far behind. Because he’s not the truth, he’s your past.”

  “How do I do that? Pretending to be someone I’m not isn’t the truth either.”

  “So don’t pretend. Be you! Just the ‘you’ called Jonah.” Anthony widened his eyes for emphasis. “Come on, look at what’s happened already as Jonah! You’ve got a smokin’ guy like Marco totally into you. And why? Because you’re being your best self!”

  “I… I don’t know.”

  Anthony sat up, not without a groan, and grabbed Jonathan’s arm. “Jonny, you know I love you. You’re my cousin, and I’d do anything for you. You haven’t had it easy. You grew up with a prick for a father who made you feel like a loser.”

  Jonathan nodded, wondering why that was relevant.

  “And then, if that wasn’t enough, that thing with Gregory went down. The first person who made you feel special, and he gets run off by Daddy Dearest.”

  “I know all this.” So shut up, already.

  “I know you do. But I’m trying to paint the full Jonathan Vallen picture here. After the Gregory debacle, you shut down even more. You turned yourself into an unhappy person, but at least you had your music. Then James died, and you gave up your music career and made yourself go into the family business and do something you hate for years. And then Aunt Candace died.” Anthony paused for a long moment while Jonathan concentrated on breathing in calmness and breathing out sadness. “What you’ve had to go through is more than most people could deal with.” He bit his lip, and his eyes grew moist. “I was afraid for a while I might lose you too.”

  Jonathan moved restlessly under Anthony’s grip, not wanting to cry himself. “But I’m still here.”

  Anthony gave him a teary smile. “Thank God! And that’s my point! This last year it’s like you’ve come back from the dead. You got away from Vallen and Uncle Frede
rick and became this whole new person. It’s a miracle!” He shook Jonathan’s arm. “You’re so strong, Jonny. I’m blown away by you, and I want you to have some happiness. So let Jonah live, and see what happens. That’s all I’m asking.”

  Moved by Anthony’s heartfelt plea, Jonathan gave in. “Okay.”

  “Excellent!” Seemingly recovered from his attack of sentiment, Anthony leaned in with a mischievous expression. “It’s all good, doll. By the end of this cruise, you and Marco will either be completely in love and he won’t care about you really being Jonathan, or you will have at least gotten some hot sex and new adventures that you can take with you when you leave.” He lay back down. “And now that that’s settled, go away and let me sleep.”

  “Yessir. I’ll see you at dinner if not before.”

  “Fine. And wear your turquoise shirt today—it brings out the blue in your eyes. And put on sunblock!”

  Jonathan laughed. “Yes, Mom. Anything else?”

  “Be yourself and let it happen, babe.”

  Chapter SEVEN

  MARCO WALKED down the gangplank with Jonah, full of anticipation. He’d envisioned Sophia coming with them, but she was slightly under the weather and had declined, telling him to have fun. Fun? Not hard to have fun in paradise. Here he was in the freaking tropics with a guy who fascinated him. Life didn’t get much better than this. The sun felt like salvation pouring down on them, and Marco’s muscles relaxed. He loved sunshine. Probably his Sicilian blood. He had the olive skin that tanned easily, too.

  He glanced at Jonah, who was wearing bright yellow shorts, an even brighter turquoise shirt, and an endearingly dorky sun visor. His bare arms and legs were pale white compared to Marco’s. “Did you put on sunblock?”

  Jonah laughed. “You and Andy are my twin mothers. Yes, I did, and I have some extra in my backpack.”