The Captain and the Prime Minister

by Catherine Curzon

  Who can blame them?

  Maddy fell asleep before the end of the story—Tom knew the sounds of each sleeping child. He hoped that instead of nightmares, tonight she’d dream about riding her bike like Rapunzel.

  Chapter Five

  A few more minutes passed before he heard the sound of Alex’s bare feet on the hallway carpet, then he appeared in the kitchen doorway and whispered, “Secret pizza?”

  “God, yes.” Tom patted his stomach and stopped. “Better not, you might drum on me like Mads did!”

  “Sorry about that.” He laughed. “You know Mads, she doesn’t appreciate that not everyone is three-but-four-nearly.”

  “Oh yes, we’re just oversized kids to her. And to be honest, she’d be right as far as I’m concerned.” Tom passed Alex the pizza menu. “A classic pepperoni for me. And for the guys on duty at the gates.”

  “Just so you know, apparently Tom’s tummy is harder than yours, daddy.” Alex pouted. “But I’m still having pizza despite her verdict. Dads are allowed softer tums than soldiers.”

  “Poor old Daddy!” Tom laughed. He was tempted to pat Alex’s tum as well, but as Tom wasn’t a small child, he wouldn’t get away with it. “Shall I open some wine?”

  “Wine would be perfect, thank you. And ham and mushroom for me, I’m feeling rustic.” Alex put the menu down on the worktop. “And cupcakes for dessert, I hope?”

  “My tum won’t be hard for long, will it?” Tom grabbed a bottle of wine. As he rummaged for the bottle opener, he said, “I like our evenings together, don’t you?”

  “More than you know.” He took out his phone and began to tap in the order. “I just don’t want you to think you’re not allowed to go out and have a life. Don’t think you have to sit in with me, Tom, I’m sure there are plenty of places a young man would rather be!”

  “Nonsense, I’ve had my fair share of nightclubs and bars. I should take you out one night!”

  But not like a date. Even if that sounded like me asking you out on a date.

  Tom poured the wine, hoping Alex wouldn’t notice his faux pas.

  “I haven’t been on a date in twenty years,” Alex replied, his tone mischievous. “My mum and dad would want to be sure you were looking after me!”

  “A date? Oh, no, I didn’t mean—” Tom nearly spilt the wine as he passed Alex his glass. My straight boss thinks I’ve asked him out on a date. And does Stuart think we’re going on a date too? Stuart seemed a million miles from number 11 Downing Street at that moment. “I mean, when was the last time you went out on the razzle? Two blokes, out on the town, and all of London is ours!”

  “I’m joking, don’t worry! You’d hardly be— Last time I went on the razzle?” Alex frowned, thoughtful. “God, I have no idea. Will years ago do?”

  “You’d have to be in disguise, of course,” Tom said. “The prime minister sitting outside Bar Italia at four in the morning—can you imagine the papers?”

  “Do you know where I’d love to go, just you and me? Colette’s. It’d be perfect, I’ve always loved it there.” Alex took a drink of wine. “I’d say this weekend, but that’s not much of a night off for you, is it, going out with your boss?”

  It’s not a date. It’s not a date.

  “Sounds fun. Yeah, we should.” Tom touched his glass to Alex’s and the crystal chimed.

  “Tomorrow night? I’ll get the office on it so it’s all low-key. Nobody’s going to be interested in one more middle-aged bloke having a few glasses of something nice!” He held up his phone. “Sides? Anything else for the gate lads?”

  “Fries and Coke for the guys on the gate?” Tom grinned. “And cheesy garlic bread for us?”

  “Done!” Alex tapped at his phone screen. “I’m ready for this. And a night out too, it must be my birthday.”

  “You work very hard, Alex. You need to take time out for you, sometimes.” Tom drank some of his wine, then asked, “Do you fancy a film with your pizza?”

  “Yeah, you choose.” He slapped Tom’s back lightly. “Something we don’t have to think about too much!”

  Tom wasn’t going to suggest Darkest Hour or The Iron Lady, and he’d seen enough cartoons. “Erm…Ghostbusters?”

  “Proper Ghostbusters?” Alex asked carefully.

  “The first one, although not the TV edit. We’re old enough to cope with the swearing, I’m sure.”

  Alex seemed satisfied with that and nodded. Then he crossed to the window and peered out into the spring evening, stretching his arms over his head. Tom looked up, watching the way the cotton of his shirt stretched across his shoulders.

  And those forearms.

  Perhaps, when they went out, Tom could play matchmaker for Alex. Find a nice lady who was going out for the first time in ages too, maybe a divorcée with a child. Or even just a woman who liked cats and wouldn’t mind Billy coming and going in the flat. He knew that a crush on Alex Hart wasn’t unusual—he’d seen the things that were said about him online. Other than the usual opposition-fueled tosh, there were so many men and women who declared that Alex was dreamy, or well fit, or drop-dead gorgeous, and Tom knew that as soon as Alex started to look for a partner, it wouldn’t take him long to find one.

  And when he did, Tom would be happy for him, of course, but how he’d wish it was him there at Alex’s side. There was no point in wishes like that, he should be happy with their friendship. They were close as brothers these days, after all.

  The pizza arrived and they settled down to watch the film, Tom in the armchair as ever. There was only the sound of contented sleeping coming through the baby monitor, and Tom stretched his legs out onto the coffee table and relaxed.

  It wasn’t the first time they’d watched the film together, and somehow Tom knew that it wouldn’t be the last. It was one of Alex’s go-to choices after a difficult day or a day of Gregory, which usually came under the former heading anyway. That was partially why Tom had chosen it, and he knew that nothing went so well with wine and pizza as the satisfaction that came with seeing Alex relaxed. It relaxed him too, in an odd way.

  Tom fidgeted in his seat and ended up sitting sideways, his long legs draped over the arm, a large cushion behind his head. His gaze kept wandering from the screen to Alex, who was smiling and relaxed. And just like that, Tom noticed that the burn in his stomach had nothing to do with the pizza, but everything to do with his desire for Alex.

  It’s just a crush, a silly, hopeless crush.

  Longing for a straight man.

  Alex reached out with his wineglass and gently tapped its base against Tom’s shin. He was watching him, that irresistible little smile of his lighting his expression, and when he asked, “Okay?”, even his voice was relaxed.

  “Yeah!” Tom hugged another cushion onto his lap. “Are you?”

  “I’m always okay when I’m here.” He smiled, rubbing his hand against the back of his neck. “I need to stop letting the misery next door get to me, don’t I? He gives me a literal pain in the neck.”

  “That’s not good. Do you want me to find you a physio?” Tom gazed at that large square hand and added, “Don’t laugh, but remember I went on that baby massage course? If you like, I could give you a rub—rub your neck?”

  For a long moment Alex looked at him, then he asked, “Would you really?”

  “Yeah, of course.” Tom levered himself up from the chair. He was already questioning whether this was a good idea or not, but it was too late now. And it was platonic, nothing more.

  “How do you want me?”

  The burn in Tom’s stomach ratcheted up a notch.

  The words Hold me down and have me were on the tip of his tongue, but instead he said, “Can you, sort of…turn to the side a little and I’ll sit on the sofa just behind you?”

  A safe seat, because then he wouldn’t be able to see Alex’s large blue eyes.

  Just his broad shoulders and the taper of his firm back down to that trim waist in those immaculately tailored trousers.

  Oh Go
d.

  Alex complied, leaning on the arm of the sofa as he turned away from Tom. “You spoil us, you know.”

  “I’m just doing my job.” Tom placed his hands on Alex’s shirt-clad shoulders, either side of his neck, and circled his thumbs.

  Platonic! he told himself, but this was Alex—Tom was rubbing knots from his lovely back. He was holding Alex’s shoulders.

  Tom held his breath. He was sure it had hitched and that would only give him away and make life horribly awkward for both of them.

  But—if he was holding his breath, then the other hitch must’ve belonged to Alex.

  Yeah, keep dreaming.

  “You’ve got talented hands, you know,” Alex murmured, his voice low and sleepy, like a man halfway between waking and a very nice dream indeed.

  Tom stroked down, rubbing his palms around Alex’s shoulder blades. “You’re very stiff—is this helping?”

  The little sigh that Tom heard sent a shiver through him and Alex murmured, “It’s definitely helping.”

  Tom put more effort in as he felt more give in Alex’s muscles. His nose nearly brushed the back of Alex’s head, and he realized how easy it would be to lean a little closer and let his lips brush Alex’s nape.

  But Tom wouldn’t.

  Even though, in his mind, the shirt was off and Alex was face down with a towel around his hips, his muscular back shining with oil. And Tom’s lips gently dragging across the vulnerable hairline of Alex’s nape.

  He’s straight.

  He was married, for Christ’s sake.

  He’s the father of two adorable children who see you as part of their family, and if you fuck this up with their dad, you’ll break their hearts.

  Tom found a particularly hard lump of muscle just below Alex’s shoulder blade. With his other hand he reached across Alex’s firm chest, holding him steady while he kneaded out the muscle with his knuckles.

  “Sorry—just getting right in here and—oof!—ironing this knot out.”

  And the answering sigh, almost a moan if he let himself be fanciful, sent a shiver of forbidden excitement through Tom’s body, darting heat straight down to his groin. Alex pushed back against Tom’s touch just a little, just as Tom told himself not to think about the fact that he had his hand on the prime minister’s chest. And as Tom flattened his palm against Alex’s body he noticed something under his hand.

  Not a button, no.

  Alex’s nipple was erect. But the flat was still warm from the spring day.

  How could—?

  A rush of excitement and fear and surprise washed over Tom, and his knuckles paused on Alex’s back.

  Was this turning Alex on?

  That would certainly explain those intoxicating little sighs and the soft sounds in his throat. It would explain the hitch in his breathing too. It would explain a lot of things.

  Tom stroked his hand up Alex’s back and rested it on his shoulder, the tip of his nose brushing the back of Alex’s head. He waited, because if he was wrong, Alex would ask why he’d stopped, wouldn’t he?

  But he didn’t ask. Instead he lifted his hand and put it over Tom’s, entwining their fingers.

  That strong forearm, with its masculine scattering of hair, and that classic antique watch at the wrist—Tom tightened his fingers around Alex’s, his nerves alive to the heat of Alex’s body and every breath between them.

  It felt like a dream.

  Tom lowered his head just enough for his lips to brush Alex’s nape, and he gently planted a kiss.

  There.

  And he waited for the sky to fall.

  But instead Alex tilted his head back slightly, letting his hair brush the tip of Tom’s nose before lowering his head again. It felt like an invitation, like a tacit agreement, and the feeling only got stronger when he whispered, “Oh, Tom…”

  Tom kissed the side of Alex’s neck, drawing his lips up to Alex’s jaw. “Alex…” he sighed.

  From the street outside a car horn sounded, beeping a staccato rhythm, and Tom felt the magic flee the room with the intrusion of the real world, as surely as if someone had hurled a bucket of cold water over the pair of them.

  “We—we probably shouldn’t,” Alex said quietly, carefully extricating their hands. “I’m sorry, I— God, what must you think of me?”

  “I shouldn’t have—” Tom backed away, but his legs had turned to jelly and he couldn’t organize himself to stand. “Christ Almighty, Alex—that was wrong. I’m sorry. I’m going to go and—” Take a cold shower and find a new job. “Early night for me, I think.”

  Alex nodded and shifted a little to look at Tom. He looked mortified, though he did his best to turn the awful, wine-fueled mistake into a joke when he said, “You’d be way out of my league even if… Probably too much wine for both of us?”

  Not even one whole glass, but it seems like a good excuse. Alex is offering a get-out-of-jail-free card.

  “Yeah, the wine.” Tom dragged his hand back through his hair. “Look—that won’t happen ever again. I’m not going to make a mistake like that twice. I’m so sorry, I don’t jump on people. I don’t know what happened. Look—I’ll…”

  Finally, Tom found the strength in his limbs to stand. He went over to the door and glanced back at Alex. How could he have read the man so wrong?

  “I really am sorry,” Alex said. “Pretend it never happened?”

  “Yeah. Sorry.” Tom turned away, his eyes closed. Idiot.

  “I’m sorry,” he heard Alex offer again. “Goodnight.”

  “Goodnight,” Tom mumbled, and he took himself off to his bedroom.

  Chapter Six

  A cold shower woke Tom up. Not that he’d slept. And he knew that Alex hadn’t either. He’d heard him padding about the flat deep into the night. Tom had seen a line of light under his door—from the kitchen, he supposed. He’d heard the flick of the kettle as Alex made a drink, gone midnight. He’d frightened the man from sleeping.

  And it’s all my bloody fault.

  Can’t trust a Southwell.

  Wasn’t that what the old colonel had said in the officers’ mess, loud enough for everyone to hear? As soon as he had found out who Tom’s father was, that had been the beginning of the end.

  ‘Untrustworthy, impetuous, more than fond of a tipple. That’s the Southwells for you.’

  Tom was merely carrying on the family tradition. By trying to seduce a straight man. And in the time-honored tradition of his family, he had managed to scupper the very best thing that he’d ever had.

  “Shhh, come on.” He heard Alex’s voice, lowered to a whisper, as he passed Tom’s room, the children’s footsteps trotting with him. “Don’t wake Tom just yet, he must’ve pressed the snooze button.”

  It wasn’t like Tom not to be the first to the kitchen, but this morning the PM was on breakfast duty, it seemed.

  Tom pulled on his clothes and hurried out to the kitchen.

  A good soldier never deserts his post.

  “Morning!” he said with brightness he didn’t feel. Alastair hurtled across the kitchen to embrace his legs as though he’d been gone for days, while Alex, busy filling the kettle with water, glanced over his shoulder with a sheepish smile.

  “Morning, Tom,” he called. “We thought you might be sneaking an extra five minutes!”

  “I was…” Hoping I hadn’t ruined everyone’s lives. “In the shower,” he said. But as soon as the words escaped him, there in his mind were he and Alex, kissing, Alex pressing Tom’s back against the cold tiles, and so much passion that—

  Stop it now.

  Tom dug his fingernails into his palms. No one would see—he had his hands in his pockets.

  “I had a magic sleep,” Madeleine told him.

  I’m glad someone did.

  “And today is Nana and Grandpa day!” Alastair reminded them, before taking himself off on a dance around the kitchen. “You and Daddy can have fun!”

  “Yeah.” Tom glanced at Alex. So they were going to pretend no
thing had happened. That was fine by Tom. He picked Alastair up, tickling him as he went, and sat him down on his booster seat. “And you two have school this morning. I’ll pack your suitcases, and when you get back from school, Nana and Grandpa will be here.”

  The children gave a cheer, filled with excitement at the promise of the weekend away. What of their weekend, though? The night out was off, Tom guessed, and probably the evenings in front of the telly that both men had cherished. They could move past this, though—they would have to.

  “Tea?” Alex asked him. “You know my coffee’s awful.”

  “Yeah, tea’d be great, thanks.” Tom was about to pat Alex’s back in their usual matey fashion but froze. Give up, Tom. “Have you put the toast on?”

  “What do you think?” Alex smiled. “You know me, I’m basically useless. Toast, right.”

  “Let me sort the toast out. You’re on tea duty.” Tom smiled back. They could do this, it’d be fine.

  I hope.

  “And tonight?” Alex sounded hopeful, he noticed, rather than concerned. “Would you still—Colette’s? There’s usually something on and— I sound like a salesman!”

  It was a cabaret—there’d be a show. At least they wouldn’t have to make awkward conversation.

  So Tom nodded. “Yeah—still on for that. Haven’t made other plans.”

  “We’re going to miss you two little monsters, but I want you both to have the best time with Nan and Gramps.” Alex added tea leaves to the pot. “Promise?”

  “Yes, Daddy.” Madeleine nodded. “I’m going to draw lots and lots of pictures.”

  “And help Grandpa dig the garden!” Alastair added. “And throw mud around and play with the goats!”

  Madeleine clapped. “I like the goats. And the donkey.”