Page 37 of Between the Lines

Or maybe it was something else entirely...

Whatever the reason, Luca found his palms tingling in anticipation as he stopped outside Theo’s room, ready to help him dress. Blowing out a nervous breath, he tugged down the jacket of his rented tux, pasted on a breezy smile, and knocked. His smile lasted until Theo opened the door, standing there with his dress shirt half undone, loose at the cuffs, albeit neatly tucked into a pair of beautifully cut dress pants. Black hair glossy and sleek, he looked as groomed as the first day they met, and he stared at Luca with wide astonished eyes. “Bloodyhell.”

Luca glanced down at himself in alarm. “What?” This hadn’t even been the cheapest tux he could find.

“You...” Theo cleared his throat. “You, uh—you scrub up pretty well, Moretti.”

Embarrassingly, Luca felt his cheeks heat with pleasure. “Oh,” he said. “Well, right back atcha, Wishart.”

Their eyes met, Theo’s flickering gaze uncertain as a butterfly. Neither spoke, neither moved, the moment rich with potential, hovering on the brink of something unspoken, and Luca thought,I should kiss him. I should kiss him like I mean it.

But before he could do anything stupid, Theo gave an unsteady laugh and looked away. “These sodding shirt studs are the work of the devil,” he said, turning from the door and leaving it open for Luca to follow. “Thank God you’re here.”

It took him a moment to recover.Kiss him like I mean it?Where the fuck had that come from? This wedding was messing with his head, that was for sure.Somethingwas messing with his head, anyway. He’d have to be careful tonight.

Shaking off that weird, dangerous impulse, he followed Theo inside. It was the first time he’d been in the room since the awkward morning he’d dumped Theo’s luggage at the foot of his bed, and Theo had left his mark. Frankly, it looked like a tornado had blown through. Clothes lay scattered all over the floor and desk chair, several damp towels slumped in a heap by the bathroom door, and a messy pile of papers spilled across the rumpled bed. Atop which lay a pristine black tuxedo jacket.

“Uh, it’s a bit of a mess,” Theo said, kicking a t-shirt under the bed as if he’d only just noticed the chaos. “Sorry.”

Still shaken, Luca forced a little humor into his voice. “So this is how you live when you don’t have your valet, huh?”

“My—?” Theo frowned. “Was that sarcasm? I don’t have a valet.”

Luca bit back a smile. “Maid, then.”

“Or a maid. Well—” an embarrassed flush “—I do use a cleaning service once a week.”

“I can see why,” Luca said. Then, bracing himself, he held out his hand. “Come on, then, give me those shirt studs.”

With an exasperated huff, Theo collected them from the dressing table and dropped them into Luca’s palm one by one, standing close enough that Luca could detect the subtle scent of his woodsy cologne. Fuck, but he smelled good. Taking a deep breath, Luca bent to the task of fastening Theo’s shirt. It felt wrong to be buttoning him into it when what he wanted to do was strip him out of it, but there was something undeniably sexy about the way his knuckles grazed the smooth skin on Theo’s chest and stomach as he slid the studs into place, about the way Theo inhaled softly and swayed forward, chasing Luca’s touch. By the time Luca reached the button at the collar, he couldn’t resist leaning in and pressing his lips against Theo’s clean-shaven jaw.

The catch in Theo’s breathing, the small, soft sigh, raised goose bumps on the back of Luca’s neck. He had to clear his throat before asking, “What’s next, then?”

Silently, Theo offered his arm, wrist up with the open cuff falling away to expose the fragile skin of his wrist. Something about that mute request made Luca’s stomach tense, his fingers fumbling the cuff link, and it took several attempts before he managed to slide the silver post through the buttonhole and fix it into place. He did the second one more easily, but had to steady himself before asking, “Next?”

Pulling a bowtie out of his pocket, Theo held it up. Their eyes met, and Luca thought he saw a question in Theo’s tentative gaze. Unable—unwilling—to answer, he looked away and took the tie from Theo’s fingers, looping it around his neck and flipping up his collar. “Lift your chin,” he said gruffly, stooping to see what he was doing, Theo’s quick breaths ruffling the top of his hair as he fiddled with the bowtie until it looked right.

The waistcoat was next. After Theo slipped it on, Luca buttoned it without being asked, tugging it down snug over Theo’s trim waist and hips, then turned to collect the jacket from the bed. The fabric felt beautiful, a fine, soft wool, and, if that hadn’t suggested its pedigree, the way it perfectly fitted Theo’s shoulders and waist betrayed its bespoke tailoring. He must have had his assistant send it from home.

Theo turned around, fastening the jacket’s single button. “Well,” he said, shyly, “what do you think? Do I pass muster?”

With his sleek dark hair and impeccably tailored tux, Theo looked stunning. Breathtaking in a very literal way; Luca had to swallow a couple times before he found breath enough to speak. “Good enough to eat.”

Theo smiled, eyes gleaming, and it loosened something in Luca’s chest—an alarming sensation, like the first tremor of an avalanche, the ground giving way beneath his feet. Some distant part of his mind warned him to start running, but deep down he knew it was already too late.

“Come on,” Theo said, sweeping his arm toward the door like a dork. “Take me to the ball, Prince Charming.”

They walked down the grand staircase together, step for step, and Luca knew they looked pretty awesome. Hefeltpretty awesome, giddy as a kid heading to prom. The foyer was busy with other guests heading out to the wedding, and Luca smiled to see a couple of appreciative looks sent their way. But his smile faded when he noticed Jude sitting behind the reception desk. Evidently she’d decided not to attend, and Luca’s flash of disappointment made him falter. Don, refilling the tourist leaflet stand nearby, eyed them both in silence.

Jude rose to her feet with a thin smile. “I hope you have a wonderful time. You both look very handsome.”

“Thanks.” But the word stuck in Luca’s throat. He knew Don must have convinced Jude to stay home, and that hurt. It made him want to flaunt Theo in retaliation, to sweep him into a filthy kiss just to hear Don choke on his own outrage. But he’d never use Theo like that, so he kept his hands to himself and said, “You’re not coming, then, Mom?”

“Oh, honey, I’d like to...”

“Your mom’s not feeling well,” Don said. “She should be in bed.”

She did look wan, but she looked evasive, too, and Luca suspected her “illness” had more to do with guilt than anything else. Don would never condone same-sex marriage, let alone attend a same-sex wedding, and Jude’s illness was a pretty transparent excuse to avoid choosing sides. As if that, in itself, wasn’t a choice. “That’s a shame,” Luca said frostily. “You’ll miss a fun night.”

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