Page 26 of Between the Lines

An extraordinary day.

He touched his mouth where Luca had kissed him, fancied he could feel the hungry caress of his lips, and smiled. Luca had kissed him. Luca wanted him. Wanted him for nine days.

That cast a shadow and Theo relished it like shade on a hot day, shielding him from a blinding sun. He was sick of being blind, of living with uncertainty. And Luca had spelled it out: nine days together, then Theo would leave and it would be over. That was good. Clear. And if it left a hollow space in his chest then it was an easy price to pay for certainty. Better to wish for more and know it wasn’t in the cards than to imagine more where it had never existed.

Beyond the proscenium arch of the window, he watched the sun finally clear the horizon and the sky above it shift from night-blue to morning’s soft gray. He ran his hand across the empty bed beside him and smiled. What would it be like, he mused, to share this moment with Luca? To wake up in his arms, lying quietly together as they watched the sun rise? To see Luca’s dazzling smile and know its warmth was for him alone, to kiss those smiling lips, perhaps, to run his hands over his powerfully muscled chest, and then—

His phone rang, buzzing aggressively on the bedside table. Theo jumped, the mood shattered, and reached for his phone. There was only one person who’d call at the arse crack of dawn. “Dad.”

“Theodore. How goes the conquest?”

He stood up, padding toward the window. He always preferred speaking to his father on his feet. “Making progress,” he said, flustered by the ridiculous notion that his father somehow knew what had happened with Luca. “The issue isn’t the sale per se but the fate of the Majestic afterward. Jude would like us to consider refurbishment instead of demolition.”

“Out of the bloody question.”

He closed his eyes against a flash of irritation. “I know that. I’ve made it clear. What I need to do is convince him that the spirit of the hotel will live on in the new build.”

A pause, then “Who’s him?”

“What?”

“You said you had to convince ‘him.’ I thought the husband was already on board.”

Theo’s face heated. “Uh—He is. I meant—” His eye was caught by the sight of a man strolling through the garden toward the clifftop. It was Luca, dressed for a run, swinging his arms to loosen the muscles of his broad shoulders. Theo’s stomach tensed; he wanted to touch those shoulders, feel them under his hands, feel those arms around him. Feel Luca’s mouth against his skin and—

“Oi! Theodore? Hello?”

Shit. “Ah, yes. Sorry...crappy connection out here.”

His father grunted. “What’s going on, then? Hubby changing his mind?”

Theo turned away from the window, closing his eyes to focus on the call. “No. I meant—I was talking about Luca Moretti. Jude’s son. He’s, uh, not in favor of the sale. And Jude doesn’t want to sell without his agreement.”

“Jesus wept. Bloody women! This is business, not the bleeding nursery.”

“Dad...”

“Alright, alright. I know. I can’t say that. But bollocks, though. So—what’s your angle on this Luca bloke?”

I’m hoping to spend nine days fucking him.

“I’m, uh, getting him on board. We’re actually going to spend the day together. He’s offered to show me around the area.”

His father was silent for a long minute and Theo swore he could hear his sharp mind ticking. Unlike Theo, Eddie Wishart was a savant when it came to reading people. “Like that, is it?”

“Dad...”

“No, no—if you can get laid and close a sale at the same time, more power to you. But for fuck’s sake make sure you aren’t getting the wrong end of the stick.” He snorted. “As it were, eh?”

This was bloody humiliating. “I’m not.”

“Are you certain?”

“I was pretty certain when he had his tongue in my mouth last night, yeah.”

“That’s my boy,” his father crowed. “I’m impressed, Theodore—above and beyond in the pursuit of the sale.”

His eyes shot open. “That’snotwhy—”

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