(Blue Notes 2)The Melody Thief (11 page)

“I like this album. I can imagine the view of Lake Michigan from a Chicago penthouse. The boats on the water,” Cary said as he closed his eyes. He knew that view well—the view from David’s apartment.

I can’t do this anymore.

Cary sat up. He fully intended to tell Antonio the truth. Instead, though, he reached for Antonio’s face, bringing it gently toward his own and brushing his lips against Antonio’s. He felt Antonio tense, and Cary waited for this advance to be rejected, just like all the others. To his surprise, however, Antonio wrapped his arms around his shoulders and drew him inward.

The kiss was almost chaste, the only hint of more a slightly shuddered breath from Antonio. Cary’s fingers moved of their own accord to comb Antonio’s hair. And oh, but that hair was as soft as he had imagined it would be! He felt his body respond and, without thinking, pushed Antonio back onto the couch so Cary could sit on the edge, in the slight indentation of Antonio’s waist. Antonio was effectively pinned against the back of the sofa.

“Connor…,” Antonio began as Cary worked the silk shirt free of Antonio’s pants with his good hand. Cary probed the broad chest beneath the silk fabric with his long fingers, finding a nipple and rolling it about. “I don’t think this is a—”

“Shh,” Cary whispered as he leaned down and kissed Antonio a second time. Antonio’s chin and upper lip were rough with stubble, serving to intensify the sensual contact.

He slid his tongue inside Antonio’s mouth as the other man’s lips yielded. There was a hint of chocolate in that warm mouth, but it tasted so much better than any dessert. Cary wanted to plunder that mouth, to explore every inch of it. He wanted to take his time and just….

Antonio pushed him gently off and got to his feet. “I’m sorry, Connor, but I’m supposed to meet a client for dinner. I really need to get going.”

“Oh.” Cary did his best to hide his shock and disappointment at the brush-off.

“Cheer up, caro,” Antonio told him with a lopsided grin. “I enjoyed that as much as you. There will be time for more later.” He offered his hand to help Cary up. “I’m having a friend over for dinner tomorrow night,” he added. “Would you like to come?”

“Sure.” The invitation put Cary’s mind at ease, at least a little. He figured Antonio wouldn’t have bothered to invite him if he really didn’t want to see him again. Still, he couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong.

“Seven o’clock.”

“Okay. Anything I should bring?”

“Nothing but yourself, caro,” Antonio replied, using the traditional term of endearment again. Cary decided he liked it far better than Roberta’s “beanpole,” but then, Antonio could have called him “
stupido
,” and he’d probably have liked that too.

Chapter 9

F
ACING
THE
M
USIC

“
C
ONNOR, I’d like you to meet David Somers. David, this is Connor Taylor.” The entire scene played out in slow motion, from the moment Antonio opened the door until Cary came face to face with the conductor of the Chicago Symphony Orchestra. Conductor and Cary’s good friend and longtime mentor.

Oh fuck.

“Good to meet you, David,” Cary said. He couldn’t bear to look at him.

“A pleasure,
Connor
.” David Somers had always been an intimidating figure for Cary, with his cool patrician manner. Cary felt like a scruffy dog standing in the middle of a Persian rug, having tracked the mud in from outside, tail firmly between his legs.

I can’t do this.

“I can’t stay.” Cary turned and reached for the door.

“I don’t understand.” Antonio put his hand on top of Cary’s. Cary avoided Antonio’s gaze but focused intently on the silver door handle. “You said you were free for dinner.”

“That’s before I….”

Before I what? Before I realized I was totally and utterly screwed? Before I blew whatever chance I had of spending more time with you?

As chaotic as Cary’s thoughts were in that instant, the realization that he wasn’t just thinking of sex with Antonio anymore but about spending time with the man came as a complete shock. He was falling for Antonio.

“Before you what?” Antonio repeated.

“I really think I should leave,” he croaked. “I apologize, David.”
For so many things. I just hope you’ll forgive me, Maestro.
He figured there was little chance Antonio would do the same.

“You needn’t apologize,” David said. “I was just leaving.”

“Wait a minute.” Cary backed away from the door and frowned at the two men. “I thought you were here for dinner.”

Much to Cary’s surprise, David just smiled back at him. “Change of plans. Besides, I’ll see you both for Thanksgiving dinner next week. Alex flies in tomorrow. He said to send you his regards, and he asked me to tell you to bring your cello if the cast is off and you’re up to playing by then. Something about an arrangement of ‘Night and Day’ he found.”

Cary had expected to see confusion in Antonio’s face. Instead, the corners of Antonio’s mouth edged ever so slightly upward. And was that a wink David shot at Antonio?

David put a hand on Cary’s shoulder. “Antonio told me what happened. I’m glad to hear your wrist is healing well.”

“He… he… he
told
you? But how would he know you…?” The universe shifted sideways, and the only thing Cary could hear was his heart pounding against his ribs. Something in his mind clicked, and Cary finally understood. “He would only have told you—”

“If I knew who you were?” Antonio’s face was unreadable.

“You know? I mean, you
knew
?”

“I’ll be going now,” David said, opening the door. “I’m guessing you two have a few things to discuss. Antonio, I’ll call you next week about the contract. And Cary,” he added with a sympathetic smile, “try to stay out of trouble. All right? I’m expecting you to play the Dvořák in March, remember?”

Cary just nodded as he watched the conductor leave and close the door behind him. “I should go too,” he said after a minute’s silence.

“Why? Do you have somewhere you need to be?”

“No. But after what I’ve done, why would you want me to stay?” His voice sounded small to his own ears, tentative.

Antonio ran a hand through his hair and sighed. “I let you stay before. Why would I change my mind now? Nothing is different.”

“Nothing…? I mean, you let…?” Cary choked out. “You… you mean you
knew
? Before David?” He was sure he wasn’t making any sense. His head pounded and his stomach did somersaults and backflips.

“I’ve known all along, Cary.”

“Shit.”

Antonio laughed, a warm and inviting sound that made Cary’s knees wobble. “Why don’t you sit down.” Antonio gestured to the couch. “We can talk.”

Cary did as he was told. “How…? When…?”

Christ! Get it together.

“I heard you play before we met. Several times. I thought you looked familiar when I found you that night, but you were pretty banged up. I realized who you were while I was waiting with you in the hospital.” He chuckled, then added, “And when I heard you humming the New World Symphony in the bathroom that first night, I was sure I was right.”

Cary opened his mouth to speak but decided against it. What could he say, anyhow?

“I go to a lot of concerts because of my work. I heard the Brahms Double Concerto you performed with Alex at the Milan Auditorium and the recital you played in July.”

“Wait a minute.” Cary struggled to put the pieces together. “What did David mean about a contract? I thought you did business law.”

“Perhaps I should have explained it better. I help musicians and artists with their businesses. I handle all of David and Alex’s European contracts. I’m what you Americans call an entertainment lawyer.”

“So when we heard David conduct…?”

“I’m sorry about that. I didn’t mean to upset you. I had hoped you’d just tell me the truth on your own, but when you didn’t, I decided to push you a little. It was a mistake.”

“If I didn’t already feel so bad about lying to you all these weeks, I’d be seriously pissed.”

“After the concert,” Antonio added, “I knew you wanted to tell me the truth, and I felt terrible for putting you in that position. I could see how horrible you felt. I spoke with David a few nights ago. I asked him what I should do.”

Cary knew his mouth was hanging open, but he didn’t care.

“He was the one who suggested making up the story about dinner. He was worried about you.”

Cary made a mental note to call David and apologize again. “You certainly surprised me.”

“He cares a lot about you,” Antonio said. “He talks about you. And when I called him from the hospital—”

“You called David Somers from the hospital?” Cary couldn’t quite wrap his brain around it.

“Yes. I wasn’t sure what to do, and I knew David was in Milan. He suggested I keep an eye on you just to be sure you were all right. But Cary, why didn’t you just tell me who you were to begin with?”

Cary felt his gut tense at the look of hurt on Antonio’s face—he knew he was the cause of it. “It’s a long story.” Oh, he
so
didn’t want to do this!

But what difference does it make now, anyhow?

“We’ve got plenty of time,” Antonio said. He leaned back against the pillows and waited patiently.

“I guess I owe you that, don’t I?”

“No,” Antonio responded. “You don’t owe me anything. But I’d still like to know.”

Cary absentmindedly scratched the skin on the inside of his left arm, just under the edge of the cast. How had he ever thought this—
any
of this—was okay? The broken wrist? The weeks away from practicing? The lies? He had only himself to blame for all of it.

“I’m the worst kind of self-centered asshole,” he said at last. “I play my music and I do fine. But when I’m not playing… let’s just say I’ve been in trouble a few times.”

“You were coming from a bar when I found you?” There was no judgment in that resonant voice, just patient understanding.

“Yeah. And not the reputable kind
you
go to.”

“I’ve been in my share of dives.” Antonio met Cary’s gaze unflinchingly. “We all have, I think.”

Cary ignored this and plunged forward. It was better to get this over with quickly so he could leave Antonio in peace. He’d get it off his chest before he said his goodbyes and crawled back under his rock with whatever pathetic shred of dignity he still possessed. “I got arrested in Paris for public indecency a few years back. Promised my agent I wouldn’t tarnish the Cary Redding name. I mean,” he added as if it somehow justified his actions, at least in part, “he has a family to feed, and I need to pay the bills. So I created an alter ego. Someone I didn’t give a shit about and who nobody else would either.”

“You figured I’d ask questions,” Antonio said, “that I’d make judgments about you.”

“Who wouldn’t?”

“
I
wouldn’t. Not everyone is like that, Cary.”

Oh, how he loved to hear that name—his
real
name—on Antonio’s lips.
If only I hadn’t botched this whole thing so entirely….

“When you introduced yourself, I figured I’d never see you again. It just seemed easier. I mean, a guy like me. Why would you even look twice? But I had no idea….”

That I’d end up liking you
, he finished silently.
That I’d want to get to know you better.

“Well,” he added, “that’s about all there is to tell.” He stood up to leave.

“Where are you going?”

“I’ve already overstayed my welcome.”

“Did I say that?”

“You didn’t have to say it,” Cary said with resignation. “I just want you to know I’m really sorry about being such a fucked-up—”

His words were cut short by Antonio’s lips on his.

Oh, good God
, he thought as Antonio wrapped his arms around him. It was so overwhelming: the way Antonio smelled, the hard body against his own, the acceptance he felt in that moment.

“You….” Cary gasped as the kiss broke. “You’re not pissed with me? After all I’ve done?”

“Yeah, I’m pissed.”

Cary could see the anger now, where before he had been too inwardly focused to notice. “Then why… I mean… why did you do that? These past four weeks, you kept pushing me away.”

Antonio took a deep breath. “As much as my brain tells me to run away from you as fast as I can,” he said, “I just can’t seem to help myself. I want you. More than that. I want to know
you
—Cary Redding. Without the bullshit. Without the lies.”

“You don’t
want
to know me, Antonio. What I… do.”

“I figured it out.”

Cary looked everywhere but at Antonio. He knew?

“No. You don’t know. You can’t, really. Because anything you’ve heard—it’s a hundred times worse. I… I can’t help myself. This… us… you don’t want this. You
can’t
want this. Someone like me. A….” The word
slut
danced on Cary’s tongue, but he couldn’t bring himself to say it.