Chapter One
James Barrington Baylor III sat at the back of the auditorium watching the rehearsal. The dancers were flying through the scene, their pirouettes, grandes jetés, and pliés a magnificent testament to their skills and talents. He relaxed, letting the grandeur of the music sweep away the cloud of irritation that he had arrived under. By the time the pas de deux began, he was as relaxed as he could ever be in public. The dancers on the stage were agile, and moved with precision and consummate skill, but Barry could almost feel the passion in their every step. The ballerina was a tiny little thing whose height was no impediment to her performance. But Barry found he couldn’t keep his eyes off the danseur, the male dancer whose trim, muscular body oozed strength, power and sensuality. Barry reacted to the sight as he did every time he saw him dance, and willed calm into his limbs. He kept his eyes on them as they spun around the stage, and when the number came to an end, he burst into spontaneous applause.
The director looked up, startled and Barry realized that he had drawn unwanted attention to himself by his outburst. Refusing to feel intimidated by the man’s glare, he remained seated and waited. No matter how uncomfortable he felt, he wouldn’t give Dave Pritchard the pleasure of knowing. After all, the man wanted his money to fund the project, which had fallen on hard times when its former patron had, unexpectedly for them, had to declare bankruptcy. Without Barry’s money, the group of dancers working their hardest to perfect their performance for the show that had already been advertised, with sold out shows, would not be able to complete what they were doing their best to finish. He could applaud a great performance if he wished.
“Ah, Mr. Baylor, how kind of you to drop in!” The director’s voice dripped with syrupy sweetness laced with sarcasm. Dave Pritchard was known in the dance world as something of a prima donna, hating to have his rehearsals invaded by idle spectators, no matter who they were. He felt it disturbed the dynamic of the rehearsal, especially if the visitors were uninvited.
“I was sure you would have no objections, Mr. Pritchard,” Barry replied with a smile, returning the sarcasm. “I thought it might be best to check on my potential investment.”
The threat was not lost on the man, whose tone changed immediately. Dave Pritchard might be a diva, but he was not a fool.
“Of course, Mr. Baylor. And I’m sure the troupe is thrilled to have you here.”
Barry wouldn’t bet any money on that. If he had to state an opinion, he would say they were probably terrified now that they knew who the stranger in the darkened theater was, lest they make some misstep that would send him running in the opposite direction. But he didn’t argue with the man. He hadn’t come there to exchange words, but to watch the dancers so that he could decide whether or not to sign over the money they needed to get to their first show.
That pas de deux had decided him, especially as he had gotten the chance to watch his favorite male dancer prance and spring and spin his way across the stage. But Barry chose to keep his decision to himself for the time being. Pritchard could wait until the lawyers called him in to sign the paperwork to find out his fate.
“Thank you, ladies and gentlemen. I’ve enjoyed what I have had the privilege to watch,” he said, standing as he prepared to leave. “I won’t disrupt your rehearsal any further. Have a good day.”
He gave a casual wave of his hand and walked out into bright afternoon sunshine. He had been following this new dance troupe for the last eighteen months, when his best friend had first started it. Mark had been adamant that he didn’t want Barry to fund it. He had wanted to do the work himself, and though Barry hadn’t told him, he had silently steered Mark in the direction of people who he knew could provide his friend with the funding he refused to take from Barry. This show was their most ambitious project so far, needing an additional sponsor, who Mark had found on his own. Had he known who Mark had chosen, Barry could have warned him away, but his first inkling that the troupe’s big show was in trouble had only come when Pritchard had approached him for funding.
Barry strolled down the busy sidewalk, enjoying the heat of the sun on his skin. He always enjoyed watching the group dance, and though he had never acted on it, he had felt an immediate attraction to the young man who had danced the pas de deux moments ago from the first time he had seen him. That had been over a year ago. Barry knew his name—Giovanni Romano—and his history in dance, but had spoken to him only once or twice, at receptions held for the troupe. He had no intention of getting in the way of such a promising career with unsolicited personal attention. Now that he was to be the principal sponsor for this event, he would need to be extra careful, as it was very likely that he would be in greater contact with the dancer. The physical attraction he felt for the younger man would have to be well concealed. He would send instructions to his lawyers to complete the paperwork as soon as he returned to his office. His cell phone rang and he checked to see who was calling.
“Mom, what a pleasant surprise!” Barry had missed her call earlier, when he had been in a meeting.
“If I didn’t know you better, I’d think you were sassing me,” his mother said with a laugh. “Are you outdoors?”
“Yes, walking back from the theater. I’ve decided to invest in the show. The dancers are exceptional. It’ll be a hit!” His mother shared his love of the arts, and had, in fact, been the one to turn him on to them when he was a boy.
“Good. Dave Pritchard may be royal pain, but he knows good dancing, and he’ll do right by you.”
Barry smiled. His mother had a good nose for business, and for people, and if she said Pritchard was a winner, Barry would take her word as confirmation of his decision.
“So, what can I do for you, Mom?”
“Dinner on Saturday? Your father and I haven’t seen you in a month, and yes,” she hurried to add, “I know you were away for most of that time. But you haven’t come by since you’ve been back. Besides, your Aunt May is visiting, and she hasn't seen you in years.”
Barry knew that what his mother wanted to see was whether or not he had a man on his arm. He chuckled. “I’ll be there, Mom, but don’t get your hopes up. There’s still no lover.”
His mother sighed. “More’s the pity. It’ll be nice to have you with us for a few hours, though.”
“What should I bring with me?”
“Some of that delicious vino from that Italian vineyard you visited six months ago would not go amiss.”
He could almost hear her smacking her lips. “Will do. What time on Saturday?”
“Six is good. Your aunt can’t handle late nights any more, and your father has an early golf game on Sunday.”
“Six it is. See you then, Mom.”
Back in the office, he tackled the tasks his secretary had lined up for him and managed to finish them only a couple of hours after everyone else had left. His stomach grumbled as he went to get his coat. Maybe he’d eat out tonight. He didn’t feel much like cooking, and he knew he’d never get to sleep if he went to bed hungry. The digital clock said the time was just after six. He sketched a brief salute to the night security guard as he went into the elevator that led to the parking garage. He would visit Mama Lucia’s tonight. Her dinners always filled him right up.
The restaurant was busy when he arrived, and he waited until a smiling young man led him to a quiet table for two at the side away from the bustle of the entryway. He smiled his thanks and ordered a glass of wine while he studied the menu. Maybe osso buco tonight…he was ready with his order when he felt eyes on him and looked up. Giovanni Romano was staring at him, and if Barry didn’t miss his guess, there was more than a passing interest in his gaze. He smiled, and Barry gripped the menu he was holding until his knuckles showed white, before returning the smile.
The young man spoke quietly to the woman behind the desk, and the next thing Barry knew the dancer was being seated at his table. His smile, after he placed his drink order, still lit Barry up like the Fourth of July, and he barely managed to extend his hand when his unexpected and uninvited companion made the familiar gesture of greeting.
“I hope you don’t mind me being so bold, Mr. Baylor,” he was saying, his accent barely noticeable. “I’m John Romano. I’ve been wanting to meet you for quite some time.”
Barry blinked, unable to muster even an ounce of annoyance or outrage at the man’s intrusion. “John? I thought your name was Giovanni?” Way to hide your stalking, Barry, he chided himself as soon as the words left his lips. He was happy he had managed not to admit to wanting to meet John as well.
“It’s the Italian for ‘John’,” the dancer told him. “It’s just easier for some people.”
“I see,” Barry said inanely, not really seeing much past the younger man’s broad shoulders, wide-set gray eyes, and strawberry-blond hair. He was quite possibly the prettiest man Barry had ever met, and yet there was nothing even remotely feminine about him. His vibe screamed “male”, and his powerful body bore that out.
“I saw you at the theater today,” John said. “What did you think?”
Barry cleared his throat before speaking. It didn’t help much, but at least he didn’t sound like he had the flu when he spoke. “I enjoyed it, as you can tell. Your performance was great, as always.”
“Thank you. A few of us hoped that you might visit, so that you could see how good we are and agree to take over the sponsorship of the show.”
Barry heard the unspoken question, and wondered that this brash younger man, who had invited himself to share Barry’s table, would measure his words when it came to something he was clearly passionate about. It was clear that John Romano was more than merely a great ballet dancer, and Barry decided that perhaps he needed to find out what more there was to know than what he already knew. He answered the unasked question.
“Pritchard will sign off on the agreement tomorrow when he sees my attorney. Congratulations! You and the troupe will get to show off that breathtaking talent in a month’s time.”
Another one of those megawatt smiles blinded Barry for a moment, but he returned it, letting himself be drawn in by the younger man’s charisma. He had nothing to lose by indulging his interest, and John had much to gain by keeping his.
“That’s good news,” John said. “Thank you. You won’t regret it!”
The waiter’s return halted their conversation, and Barry hid his amusement when John chose to have what he was having. He had not so much as looked at the menu and didn’t seem to care about what he ate. Barry decided he’d take the reins for a while, instead of letting his companion lead their encounter all on his own.
“So, do you come to Mama Lucia’s often?”
“Once a week or so,” John said. “I adore all her pasta dishes.”
“But I managed to change your mind this evening.” Barry eyed him speculatively, not letting his curiosity show. Without waiting for a reply, he continued, “Do you normally invite yourself to strange men’s tables for dinner when you’re here?”
A light sparked in John’s eyes. He wasn’t offended by the question. Barry wondered if the light was amusement. A small chuckle answered him, and Barry smiled in return.
“You’re my first,” John replied, swirling the cherry in his bourbon cherry soda. “And you’re not strange at all.”
Barry’s cheeks warmed at the compliment and the innuendo. “So, you’re popping your cherry with me, eh?”
John’s laugh set Barry’s hands to trembling. It was rich, warm and so sexy he wished they were somewhere private, so he could do what he had the sudden urge to do and swallow the sound in a wild kiss. He drained the wine in his glass instead, managing to keep his trembling from showing and raised a hand for another drink. Maybe he should order something stronger to counteract John’s powerful impact on him.
“Brandy, neat,” he said when the waiter arrived with their starters.
They ate in silence for a while, and just when Barry was finally relaxed enough to sit back in his chair, John said,
“I don’t want to seem any pushier than I must already do, but I want you to know I find you very…compelling. It’s not my style to approach anyone the way I did tonight with you, but I couldn’t let the chance pass. I saw you and my gut said it needed to be now. I never ignore my gut. So yes, I popped my cherry with you.”
“How do you know I’ll be good for you?” Barry asked, wondering at the words coming out of his mouth. This man was making him shed his reticence in favor of raw honesty and even playfulness. He hadn’t flirted with anyone in years. “First times can be painful.”
John’s smile turned devilish. “So far, so good. I’m not complaining. Are you?”
Barry couldn’t help the grin that split his cheeks. “How can I? I’m sitting with a master.”
The younger man’s face grew serious. “Not really. I just go after what I want. And there’s no point in being out there if you’re not confident, is there?”
“None whatsoever,” Barry agreed. “And as you know, confidence is very sexy.”