Theo’s stomach jittered, half in anticipation and half in dread, as he waited in the foyer for Moretti to show up that evening.
If he showed up...
With a man as attractive as Luca Moretti, there was always a chance this whole arrangement had been a joke, a setup, or even a misunderstanding. Theo might well have overlooked a subtle clue, missed the meaning hidden between the lines. Easy to do when you couldn’t even see them.
To distract himself from his uncertainty, he watched Jude at work behind the desk. She sat at the ancient computer, reading glasses perched on the tip of her nose, a pinched frown creasing her brow. She looked tired, and Theo could easily imagine the burden on her shoulders: three generations of family expectation, loans to pay, and running costs to meet from declining receipts. If she was sick, too, and unable to access the care Don thought she needed, it would only exacerbate her stress.
His father felt a similar strain at the head of Lux, and Theo supposed he would feel it, too, one day—assuming his father ever deemed him worthy enough to inherit. He couldn’t say he was looking forward to the prospect, and, frankly, he wouldn’t blame Moretti for feeling a similar ambivalence about his own inheritance.
Reviving the Majestic would be a huge undertaking. Maybe, given enough investment and imagination, Moretti would have a shot at making it work, but he’d never achieve the same profit level Lux was projecting with the golf resort, nothing close. It could be enough to cover costs, though, and to keep the business ticking over—a comfortable livelihood for someone who was happy to live in and work hard. Jude wasn’t whistling in the wind, but if Moretti lacked the ambition and the business acumen to go for it, then Jude needed to look elsewhere for her successor.
“Hey.”
Startled, Theo’s stomach jumped at the sight of the man himself, crossing the foyer toward him. Dressed in his customary shorts and t-shirt, flip-flops slapping on the marble floor, Moretti looked cool as fuck. Way out of Theo’s league. By contrast, Theo felt overly formal in his golf shorts and deck shoes, but they were all he had. Besides, even the thought of flip-flops between his toes made him squirm.
He stood up and tried to make eye contact. “Hello.”
Moretti’s gaze traveled over him quickly, but he didn’t say anything, just smiled revealing one incisor slightly longer than the rest of his teeth. It was strangely adorable. “Ready to go?”
“Sure.” Theo felt fluttery, like this was a date, which was a ridiculous if seductive idea. “I’ve warned the ER to be on standby.”
For a moment Moretti just stared, then he laughed as if the sound had been surprised out of him. He had a nice laugh, it made the corners of his eyes crinkle, and Theo’s stomach gave another helpless lurch. “I swear, I’ll keep you out of the ER.”
Theo wasn’t so certain—his last attempt at cycling had seen him go over the handlebars and fracture a wrist—but he didn’t press the point as they headed out.
The Surf Hut was aptly named: a decrepit old shack above the dune line at the quiet end of the beach. It was accessed from town via Sandy Lane, a narrow street lined with vacation rentals. Many of which stood empty.
Moretti had the key and let them into the hut, flicking on the light to reveal rows of wetsuits hanging up along the wall. “Okay,” he said, “let’s get you suited up.” He ran an assessing eye over Theo, which lingered long enough to make him feel hot all over. “You’re what, five-eleven and 160 pounds?”
“Give or take.” He didn’t have noodle arms—he worked out with weights at home—but compared to Moretti’s solid bulk he felt scrawny. Not that anyone was looking. “Here.” Moretti snagged a wetsuit with short arms and legs and handed it over. “Try this.”
Theo glanced around. There was nowhere else to change and Moretti was already stripping off his t-shirt to reveal an expanse of bare back and broad shoulders that made Theo’s eyes pop. He turned away hurriedly and started working on his own clothes, trying to ignore the sudden inappropriate flush of heat across his skin. “So, ah,” he said, to distract himself, “you grew up here?”
“Yup, born and bred.”
Theo pulled his t-shirt up over his head and dumped it on the bench next to him. “Must have been a great place to be a child.”
A pause, then, “Um... Sorry, what?”
“I said, it must have been a great place to be a child.”
“Oh, yeah, it was awesome.” Luca’s voice went soft as he spoke, a little dreamy. “Running around barefoot the whole summer, learning to swim and then to surf. Hiding in the dunes. Mom and Dad used to have this little boat and we’d—” He broke off, cleared his throat. “Yeah, it was great.”
Theo glanced over, caught a glimpse of Moretti’s Lycra swim trunks that made his breathing hitch, and looked away again, embarrassed by the strength of his own reaction. “So, uh, your dad’s not around anymore?” He fiddled with the awkward button at the top of his shorts, got it undone, and sat down on the bench to get them over his feet.
“No. He left. And then...” Theo glanced up to find Moretti’s gaze slipping away from him. “And then it was just me and Mom. Until she married Don and—” He shrugged, but didn’t finish.
“It didn’t feel like home anymore?” Theo suggested, reaching for his wetsuit with some trepidation.
“Yeah, exactly.”
Theo nodded, turning the wetsuit over. Ah, there was a zip at the back. “That’s how it felt when my dad remarried. Well, it did the first time. By the third time, I’d given up caring.” He tugged at the zip. “So where’s home for you, now?”
“Nowhere. I don’t do ‘home,’ as a concept.”
Theo laughed, but when he looked over Luca’s mouth had settled into a serious, straight line. No hint of a smile.
“I prefer life on the road,” he said. “Not getting tied down to one place, or to one person. I find that...leaves you open to a lot of shit.”
“But you’re tied to New Milton, right?” Theo set the wetsuit on his lap. God only knew how you were meant to get into the thing. “And you’re tied to the Majestic.”
“Not anymore. Don’t get me wrong, New Milton’s my favorite place in the world and I can’t imagine the Majestic not being here, but that doesn’t mean I want to stay.” Luca ran his fingers through his hair, making it glint in the evening sunlight streaming through the open door. “I can’t stay. But knowing the Majestic’s here...it’s important to me.” He shook his head, as if bewildered by the idea. “I guess that sounds stupid.”
Theo considered it. Moretti was much easier to figure out than the stiff black wetsuit on his lap, and more interesting, too, so Theo gave him his full attention. “It was your home,” he said. “When you were a child this was your safe place, but then your father left and your mother remarried and it didn’t feel safe anymore. But even if you don’t want to live here, you still want your home to exist.” It made perfect sense. “I can see why you don’t want anything to change. It must feel like we’re attacking your foundations.”
Silence followed, a tense silence suggesting he’d said too much. Or the wrong thing. He cast a wary glance at Moretti only to find the guy staring, lips slightly parted, his silvery eyes fixed on him. Theo shifted under his unfathomable gaze. “What?”
“Nothing, it’s...” Moretti shook his head. “It’s just, yeah, you’re spot on. Most people don’t get it.”
Theo smiled. “I can relate, I guess.”
“Yeah?” Moretti’s gaze lingered on him, as if seeking answers on Theo’s skin. “Where’s home for you, then? I’m assuming, by the accent, it’s not around here.”
“Well, it’s been Greenwich Village for the last five years,” Theo said. If you could call his sterile, one-bedroom apartment a home. “But I moved around a lot growing up: boarding school and uni in London, holidays with Dad in the States. He’s English, but moved here before I was born. My mother’s American, but lives in France now. I grew up kinda rootless, I guess, so I do get why the Majestic’s important to you.” He smiled, feeling wistful and self-conscious. “I always wanted that, you know? A real home, somewhere unchanging. I suppose I still do, if I’m honest.”
Moretti nodded and for a long while they simply stared at each other and it didn’t feel difficult or awkward, but something else entirely. Something alive and buzzing that made Theo want impossible things and—And then Moretti cleared his throat, gesturing at Theo’s wetsuit. “You need a hand?”
“I’m fine.” The automatic response came out snappier than Theo intended, shattering the strange atmosphere, but he hated being treated like a child. “I mean, I can do it.”
Moretti shrugged, stepped into his own wetsuit and tugged it up his tanned legs, over his fine backside. Theo tried the same thing, sliding one foot and then the other through the thick, tacky fabric and starting to pull. Ugh. It was uncomfortable, and difficult to get a firm grip. Anxiety knotted in his stomach. It shouldn’t be this hard, but of course it was this bloody hard. For him, it was.
“C’mere,” Moretti said. “I’ll help.”
Don’t! The instinctive retort bunched up behind Theo’s teeth, but when he turned around to spit it out Moretti was right there, and he wasn’t smiling or looking impatient. Theo found himself staring, transfixed. Distracted, he was unable to protest when Moretti reached forward, grabbed the wetsuit and yanked it up to Theo’s hips so hard he was dragged up onto his tiptoes and might have lost his balance completely had Moretti not braced a startlingly warm hand on his shoulder.
“Sorry,” Luca said with a grin. “They’re kinda like condoms—there’s a knack to putting them on.”
Too nonplussed to be offended at being manhandled, Theo just stared.
Moretti’s cheeks pinked. “Um, anyway, turn around. I’ll get the zipper.”
After some more wrangling, Theo found himself zipped into the thing, which was tight and uncomfortable around his throat. Frankly, he felt ridiculous. Moretti, on the other hand, looked spectacular. Broad chest, powerful thighs, square shoulders: his athletic body was only enhanced by the sleek lines of his wetsuit. And Theo wanted him, that was the embarrassing truth. Theo wanted him and it was bloody unfair that Moretti would never look twice at him even if he was gay, which he probably wasn’t. Not that Theo would be able to tell unless Moretti showed up wearing a rainbow flag and riding a unicorn—and possibly not even then.
Moretti clapped him on the shoulder to get his attention—he’d been drifting in his thoughts—and the heat penetrated right through the neoprene to his skin. “C’mon, Wishart, surf’s up.”
* * *
A handful of people lingered on the beach, the families long gone home for dinner and only a few stragglers remaining. The surf wasn’t great, but it would be high enough for a beginner to practice bodyboarding. A couple of surfers were making the best of it at the north end of the bay, so Luca steered Wishart in the other direction.
The wetsuit did wonders for the guy’s slender body, revealing his cute ass in all its pert glory and slim hips that made Luca’s hands twitch. He hadn’t meant to, but he’d had a long look at Wishart’s bare back while he was changing, lithe and smooth, and—
And he needed to get a grip on his shameless thoughts.
“Here will do,” he decided, squinting along the flat expanse of wet sand. Sunlight streamed out from behind the cliffs, dazzling against the water. “Okay, Wishart, drop your board down.”
Wishart looked at him, one hand lifted to shade his eyes. “Can’t you call me Theo? Wishart makes me feel like I’m back at school.”
Luca wasn’t sure why he hadn’t before, except that Theodore Wishart was the enemy and Theo... Well, he sounded like someone else. He cleared his throat. “Yeah, sure—Theo. So you need to practice your positioning...”
Wishart—Theo—nodded, looking very serious. “Okay, but you’ll have to show me the correct position.”
Was that...? Luca glanced at him. Was he flirting? If he was, the guy had one hell of a poker face. Unsure whether to be amused, or to say something about showing Theo his favorite position, Luca decided to play it safe and lay down on the board to demonstrate. “Hips here, hands on the nose bulbs. And then you paddle with your hands, like this, kick your feet under the water, and we’ll power out past the breakers.” He jumped up. “Okay, have a go.”
When Theo lay down and flailed about, Luca wondered if he’d even been watching. “No, no, no. Stop. You need to be much further up the board. Get your hips on it.”
“They are on it.”
They weren’t and, frankly, Luca had seen cats take instruction better. Not that Theo wasn’t trying, but some essential link appeared to be missing between what his ears heard and how his body behaved. After several attempts at explaining, Luca gave up and grabbed the guy under his arms, hauling him forward. “There. Like that. Right on the board.”
Theo glared at him, lips pursed. For a moment, he looked more like the man Luca had first met, but he nodded and obediently thrashed his arms and legs about like a wind-up bath toy. Luca was doubtful he’d be able to replicate any of this in the water and puffed out a breath, stumped.
“See?” Theo sat up, sand clinging to his knees. “I’m crap at this.”
“It’ll be easier in the water.”
“Will it?” Theo looked doubtful, and with good reason; it would be much harder in the water.
“Let’s try.” Luca held out his hand to help Theo up. After a hesitation, Theo took it—slender, strong-fingered—and Luca tugged. Theo came to his feet so fast he lost his balance and stumbled into Luca, knocking the breath from his lungs.
“Shit,” Theo said, a hand on Luca’s chest. “Sorry.”
Luca didn’t reply. He couldn’t because the hair on the back of his neck was standing on end, his gaze snagged on Theo’s lips—rather a lush crushed-raspberry pink—and his whole body was aware of him in a way the other guy didn’t appear to notice. Theo just looked mortified. Hell, maybe Luca had misread him and he wasn’t gay after all.
Clearing his throat, Luca took a careful step back, trying to shake off the goose bumps. He would not get the hots for a straight guy, especially not a straight guy bent on tearing down the Majestic. “No problem,” he said, and picked up his bodyboard to attach the wrist strap. After a moment, Theo did the same, and Luca watched him fiddle about with it until he got the Velcro strap fastened. “Okay,” he said, when Theo was ready. “Follow me.”
Things did not improve in the water. In fact, disaster might not be too strong a word. Theo could hardly stay on his damned feet, let alone get on the board. He kept just...sliding off. Sideways, off the back, sideways again. It was hopeless. His balance was crap, every wave sent him staggering, and he couldn’t even jump onto a wave like the kids did, clutching the board like a giant float.
All that stopped Luca from giving up was the expression of resigned defeat on Theo’s face, as if failure had been inevitable from the start. Was always inevitable. It provoked Luca: he’d get Theo on the damn board, and on at least one wave, if he had to stay there all night to do it. His professional reputation was at stake.
But after the umpteenth time Theo had gone under and come up spluttering, Luca saw the last of the fight wash out of the guy. His shoulders sagged, the frustrated tension in his jaw at odds with the slump in the rest of his body. “We should go in,” he said. “It’s cold.”
“No.”
Theo looked up, eyes flashing angrily. “I can’t do it, Luca. I appreciate your—”
“I’ve got an idea,” Luca said. “Stay here.” He waded far enough into shore to skim his own board up the beach. The sun was low on the western horizon, golden shafts of sunlight highlighting the Majestic where she perched, looking down on them from the top of the cliff. Soon, the evening would be too dark to carry on. It was now or never.
He waded back to Theo, who stood in a disconsolate huddle next to his bodyboard. “Okay, get on it.”
In fairness, the guy looked wrecked. “Luca—”
“C’mon, we’re doing this. Back on the board, man.”
With obvious reluctance, Theo tried to climb on. He was tired and all over the place, so Luca stationed himself in front of the board, one eye on the incoming waves, grabbed Theo under his arms and hauled him on properly. Theo yelped in surprise, clutching at the edge of the board, but didn’t protest. “Hold on,” Luca warned, looking him in the eye. “Understand? Hold on.” Miraculously, Theo held his gaze long enough to nod. His eyes were only just visible beneath the hair falling across his forehead, and Luca had a sudden urge to push it back from his face.
Instead, he grabbed the tether and started towing Theo out over the breakers, far enough to catch a decent size wave. Behind him, Theo muttered, “Fuck.”
“You’ll be fine. Just don’t let go.”
When they were in position, Luca got in behind the board, holding it on either side of Theo’s butt, close enough that Theo’s thighs grazed his hips. Not thinking about that, he kept his eyes fixed on the incoming waves. He let them float over a couple that weren’t quite breaking, a couple of others that weren’t big enough, and then he saw it: the perfect wave. Its face was walling, a little white water foaming on the top, and it was heading straight for the beach. If Theo caught it, he’d have a sweet ride to shore.
“Okay!” Luca yelled. “Hold on!”
Theo looked over his shoulder, eyes popping when he saw the wave. “Jesus fucking Christ!”
“You’ll be fine.”
Luca got the board moving, shoving it forward as hard as he could as the wave face rose behind them. He ducked, felt the water lift him, and powered forward with his legs until the board skimmed out from his grip. When he surfaced in the shoulder of the wave, he whooped in delight at the sight of Theo dropping down its face, riding it all the way into the shallows until he washed up gently onto the sand, rolled off the board and lay there like a half-drowned starfish.
Luca laughed, bodysurfed the next wave in, and waded out of the water. Theo was still flat on his back, staring at the darkening sky, seafoam in his hair. And he was grinning—a bright, beautiful grin. Luca felt like cheering.
“That was bloody brilliant,” Theo breathed, levering himself up onto his elbows. “It did feel like flying!”
“You did it, man. What a ride!” he reached down and Theo clasped his hand. Luca was careful not to tug too hard this time and Theo got to his feet, grinning.
“I can’t believe I did it. Well, you did the hard part, but—”
“Hey.” Luca gave him a soft punch on the shoulder. “Shut up. It was your ride, Wishart. Own it. You did good.”
Theo shook his head, as if dazzled. “I’d never—I didn’t think I’d ever do something like that.” And then he looked up, right into Luca’s eyes. “Thank you.” It was such a consuming gaze, so earnest and different from Theo’s usual fleeting glances, Luca didn’t know how to respond. Jaw slackened, lips parting, Luca sank into that long look. Theo licked his lips and for a crazy moment Luca thought Theo might kiss him. But he didn’t, he broke eye contact and turned toward the cliffs with a shiver. The sun had fully set, night flowing in with the tide. “It’s getting dark.”
“Yeah,” Luca said, shaking off the weird moment. “Yeah, we should go.”
There were heated outdoor showers next to the Surf Hut and Luca peeled off his wetsuit, dunked it in the freshwater barrel, and stepped under the warm water, sluicing it through his hair. He rubbed the salt off his face and blinked the water out of his eyes, only to see Theo struggling to reach the cord at the back of his own wetsuit. He smiled; the guy was hopeless. Toweling his hair dry, Luca stepped out of the water. “C’mere, I’ll get it.”
“I can do it.”
“Sure. I can help.”
“I’m not a child,” Theo snapped and then looked away, his expression masked by the dusk.
“I’m well aware of that,” Luca said, turning him around. Theo was tightly wound, for sure. Luca could feel the tension along the hard line of his shoulders. In silence, he tugged the zipper halfway down Theo’s back and handed him the end of the long cord so he could do the rest himself. Only Theo didn’t, he just stood there, head bowed. Waiting for something? Uncertain, Luca waited, too, eyes tracking the sliver of skin visible down Theo’s back.
“I’m—I find this difficult,” Theo said at last. Luca wasn’t entirely sure what he meant: bodyboarding, wetsuits, or the ambiguous tension flowing between them? It was hard to gauge when all Luca could see was the nape of his neck, damp hair curling. “I get frustrated.”
“Who doesn’t?” Luca set his hands lightly on Theo’s shoulders, felt the bones beneath his palms, and hooked his thumbs under the damp wetsuit. Blood racing—much of it heading south—he slipped the sleeves over Theo’s shoulders, bare skin cool against his fingers, and let go before he took it too far. Over to you, buddy.
Theo looked over his shoulder, eyes pools of darkness, difficult to read. After a long silence, he nodded. “Thank you. I’ll...” He swallowed. Luca could see his throat working, a couple drops of water trickling into the little hollow at its base. “I’ll go shower.”
“Sure,” Luca said, stepping back. “I’ll start locking up.”
He walked away, uncertain what, if anything, had happened between them. And even less certain whether anything should.
Sleeping with the enemy would be a bad idea, however tempting the enemy proved to be.