by Andrew Grey
Readers love Andrew Grey
A Taste of Love
“…an emotional story that will have you in tears one minute, smiling and laughing the next.”
—Love Romances & More
A Shared Range
“…another enjoyable read filled with two well rounded and likable guys.”
—Literary Nymphs
Pump Me Up
“Andrew Grey is a master storyteller. His stories have heart and the characters fairly leap off the pages to completely captivate you.”
—Love Romances & More
An Unexpected Vintage
“There’s nothing like a story that reminds you to get out and enjoy life!”
—Fallen Angel Reviews
Love Means… Freedom
“Mr. Grey has, once again, brought to life compelling characters with whom readers can identify and about whom we can care deeply. This is one of those books best read snuggled up in a cozy, favorite chair while the wind howls outside.”
—Whipped Cream Erotic Romance Reviews
http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com
Books by
ANDREW GREY
THE BOTTLED UP STORIES
Bottled Up
Uncorked
The Best Revenge
An Unexpected Vintage
A Shared Range
THE CHILDREN OF BACCHUS STORIES
Children of Bacchus
Thursday’s Child
Child of Joy
THE LOVE MEANS… STORIES
Love Means… No Shame
Love Means… Courage
Love Means… No Boundaries
Love Means… Freedom
Love Means… No Fear
Accompanied by a Waltz
A Shared Range
A Taste of Love
All published by
DREAMSPINNER PRESS
Copyright
Published by
Dreamspinner Press
4760 Preston Road
Suite 244-149
Frisco, TX 75034
http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com/
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Accompanied by a Waltz
Copyright © 2011 by Andrew Grey
Cover Art by Justin James [email protected]
Cover Design by Mara McKennen
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without the written permission of the Publisher, except where permitted by law. To request permission and all other inquiries, contact Dreamspinner Press, 4760 Preston Road, Suite 244-149, Frisco, TX 75034
http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com/
ISBN: 978-1-61581-797-9
Printed in the United States of America
First Edition
February, 2011
eBook edition available
eBook ISBN: 978-1-61581-798-6
Dedication
For Mom and Dad.
Chapter 1
Two years ago
“HAPPY birthday!”
He cracked his eyes open to see his lover standing over him, carrying a tray and wearing nothing but a smile. “You know I hate birthdays, and turning forty-five is nothing to celebrate,” Jonathon responded to Greg’s cheerful voice. “What are you doing here, anyway?” he added as sleep fell away and he remembered that Greg was supposed to be in Los Angeles on business, not standing in their bedroom with breakfast in bed. Sitting up, the covers pooling in his lap, Jonathon made room on their bed.
The mattress dipped as Greg sat down, placing the tray over Jonathon’s legs before slipping beneath the blankets next to his lover. “I’ve never missed your birthday, not in seventeen years together, and I don’t intend to start now. I finished the infernal meeting yesterday and even got Harry Jenkins, the world’s most persnickety actor, to sign the damned contract before catching the red-eye. I landed at Kennedy a few hours ago and drove right here.”
Jonathon smiled, reaching out as Greg leaned closer, their lips touching lightly.
“Happy Birthday, Boo.”
Jonathon sighed softly against those familiar and loved lips, the very private nickname Greg had for him warming his heart, just as it had for over a decade. Shortly after they met, Greg had found out that Jonathon’s middle name was Beauregard, and he’d loved it. Greg had started calling him his Beau and eventually shortened it to Boo, and it had been that way ever since.
“We have lunch with the kids today, and after that I’m off for the next three days. Where would you like to go?” Greg kissed him again before leaning back against the headboard with a smile.
Jonathon looked over the breakfast tray, pulling his gaze away from Greg. He’d been so sweet; he didn’t want to do anything to spoil it. “You know where I want to go,” was all he said, doing his best to push the thought of lunch with Greg’s three children out of his mind.
“I do, and after we finish breakfast”—Greg leaned close again, lips tugging on an ear; the sensation had Jonathon moaning again—“you can pack while I make sure everything is all set at the office. Then we can drive to the lake. I already called the service, and they said they’ll have the house opened up, stocked, and ready. We won’t have to leave the entire time unless we want to.”
Jonathon looked up from the tray, feeling a little choked up. “Thank you,” he replied softly.
“Boo.” Jonathon felt a finger slide under his chin. “I understand about the kids. I had a talk with all three of them and told them that they’re all adults now and it was time they started acting like it.”
Greg picked up one of the berries off the plate, bringing it to Jonathon’s mouth, and his lips opened automatically, sucking in the berry and one of Greg’s fingers as well.
“I love you, Jonathon Pfister, and I have almost since the day we first met—and nothing is going to change that. They need to realize it and get over it.” Jonathon heard Greg sigh softly. “I should have dealt with them a long time ago.”
“It’s not your fault, and you can’t make them like me.” Jonathon took a bite of egg, fluffy and light, before getting another forkful, feeding it to Greg with a slight leer. “I know they blame me for your divorce, and before you say it, I know it wasn’t my fault or their mother’s. I understand that, but they don’t or won’t.”
He’d have liked to say it didn’t matter, but it did. His one wish was that Adam, Eric, and Jeana would see that he truly loved their father and did everything he could to make him happy.
“That’s enough talk about the kids.” Jonathon ate another bite before drinking his orange juice and placing the tray on the floor beside the bed. “I have something much more important to talk about.”
“And what is that, pray tell?” Greg asked as Jonathon rolled into his lover’s thick arms, letting his head rest on Greg’s shoulder.
“You, Gregory Mansfield. I’d much rather talk about you,” Jonathon flirted as his fingers carded through the salt-and-pepper hair on his lover’s chest. “I missed you all week, and I’m glad you’re here.” Leaning forward, he let his tongue glaze around a nipple, the familiar musky saltiness of his lover’s skin bursting onto his tongue. Shifting on the bed, he threw back the covers, and Greg took him into his arms, pressing them together, starting a familiar, passionate dance they’d done together for going on two decades now. Of course, over the years, their flamenco had changed into more of a waltz,
but that didn’t seem to matter. All that really did was the way they felt for each other.
“You’re still amazing, you know that?” Jonathon whispered as Greg held him tight, spooned to his back, his lover’s breathing already beginning to even out.
“So are you, Boo,” Greg responded sleepily as a hand slowly rubbed circles on Jonathon’s stomach.
“Are you feeling all right?” Jonathon asked, rolling over in Greg’s embrace, stroking a hand over his forehead, petting him lightly while surreptitiously checking for a temperature.
“I’m fine.” Greg tightened his grip, winding a leg between Jonathon’s. “The flight was just long, and I didn’t get much sleep. I’m not as young as I used to be.” Greg paused, his eyes opening. “Or as handsome.”
“Stop it.” Jonathon smiled. “You’re just as handsome at sixty-two as you were the day I met you, and don’t you dare think otherwise for a second.” Jonathon saw Greg’s eyes close, and he slowly got out of bed, dressing quietly before leaving the room to let Greg sleep for a few hours.
Wandering through the house, he stopped dead in his tracks in the kitchen—or what had once passed as the kitchen. It looked as though a bomb had gone off. How anyone could dirty every pan in the house as well as every inch of the granite countertops making eggs, toast, berries, and juice was beyond him, but somehow Greg had managed. Checking out the sink, he picked up a saucepan with congealed oatmeal in the bottom and began to laugh. The man was a wizard in the courtroom, arguments a model of logic and order, and he could write a contract so ironclad an atomic bomb couldn’t break it, but in the kitchen, the man could make a chaotic mess faster than a two-year-old on a sugar high. But none of that mattered as Jonathon opened the dishwasher and began placing the pans in their racks after scraping out the remains.
Closing the dishwasher door, he reached for the phone just as it began ringing. Snatching it from the cradle, he answered it fast so it wouldn’t wake Greg. “Hello.”
“Is Greg there?” He recognized Doreen’s voice instantly, wishing he’d checked the caller ID and sent it right to the answering machine.
“He is home, but he flew all night, so he’s resting,” Jonathon said evenly to the Wicked Witch of Westchester. How Greg had ever seen enough in her to marry her was completely beyond him. Jonathon wanted desperately to tell her to jump on her broom and fly back to Oz, but it would only make trouble for Greg, so he held his tongue.
“Well,” her affected accent rang through the line, “I need to speak to him right away.” Jonathon knew what that tone and urgency meant.
“You can’t,” Jonathon said flatly. “He’s asleep, and I won’t wake him except in an emergency, and your needing money isn’t an emergency.” He heard her sputter, and he knew he’d hit the nail on the head. “I’ll tell him you called and why.” Pressing the disconnect button, Jonathon turned off the ringer—it would be just like her to keep calling—and placed the phone back in the charger. Wandering into the living room, he pulled open the patio doors and stepped out onto the deck, looking out over the ocean, listening to the waves crash on the rocks below.
“Who was that?” Greg asked from behind him, and Jonathon turned to see Greg rubbing his eyes like a little boy just waking from a nap, a pair of boxers hanging from his hips. Walking back inside, leaving the doors open to let in the breeze, Jonathon poured Greg a cup of coffee and handed it to him.
“Doreen. She wanted money.”
Greg took the cup but just set it on the counter. “Oh.” Greg moved closer.
“You need to sleep,” Jonathon chided gently as he took Greg’s hand, leading him back to the bedroom.
“Can’t sleep without you,” Greg pouted playfully, and Jonathon climbed back into bed after him, hugging Greg close as he listened to his lover’s soft breathing. An hour or so later, Jonathon closed his book, placing it on the bedside table, Greg’s arm still resting over his stomach.
“We should get up if we’re going to have lunch in the city,” Jonathon said softly, kissing Greg’s temple, feeling the other man stir, brown eyes fluttering open. “Are you feeling better?”
Greg’s answer was to pull Jonathon into a kiss before running his fingers over sensitive ribs. Jonathan giggled and squirmed, trying to get away while at the same time enjoying the touch. “Greg,” he cried out through giggles as he tried to tickle his lover back. “We have to get dressed,” he managed to say through fits of laughter. “And this family lunch was your idea.” As much as he disliked the thought of having lunch with Greg’s kids, he’d do it without complaint. Greg did plenty for him and asked for very little.
The fingers stopped, leaving both men lying on their backs, trying to catch their breath. Getting out of bed, Greg walked into the bathroom while Jonathon made the bed and carried the dishes into the kitchen, putting everything away before starting the dishwasher and returning to the bathroom. Cracking the door, he heard Greg’s off-key singing and smiled. Entering the room, he shaved before pushing back the curtain and joining his lover under the spray.
An hour later, dressed, packed, and ready, the two men left the house, with Greg locking the door as Jonathon carried the last of their bags. “Would you like me to drive?” Jonathon asked, and Greg nodded but motioned toward his blue Mercedes. “You mean we’re taking your new baby?” He hadn’t paid attention to which car Greg had loaded.
“Well, I was thinking that your car is getting old, and if you like it, we’ll get you one.” Greg grinned before opening the passenger door.
Jonathon walked around to the driver’s side, opening the door and sliding into the seat, soft, saddle-colored leather surrounding him. “Greg, didn’t your car have black seats?”
Greg grinned and handed him a set of keys. “Happy Birthday, Boo.”
Jonathon sat stunned for a second before hugging Greg tightly. “Thank you. I….”
“It was the only way I could think of that you’d let me get it for you,” Greg chided lightly.
“You know how I feel about paying my own way,” Jonathon replied, and he started the engine before pulling out of the driveway and onto the street.
“I’ve told you before, it’s not mine or yours, but ours, and I’ve meant it.”
Jonathon turned out onto the main road, en route to the expressway. “I know you do.” Even after all these years, he couldn’t think of Greg’s money as his as well. “And you know how I feel.”
Jonathon felt Greg’s hand on his leg, squeezing lightly. “That’s one of the reasons I love you so much. I never had to worry if you loved me or my money, because you almost never let me spend any of it on you.”
Jonathon glanced over and saw Greg relax back in the seat as they entered the expressway, heading into the city. The drive took over an hour, and as they got closer, the traffic got worse. Jonathon normally hated driving in the city, but with Greg tired, he was glad to do it. Pulling up to the restaurant, he handed the keys to the valet, and together they walked into the fine restaurant.
Jonathon immediately saw Greg’s children, already seated, and as they approached, he heard their conversation cut out. One by one, they stood and hugged their father and said hello to him, with only Jeana hugging him as well as she wished him a happy birthday. Of Greg’s children, she was the spark of life. It had always surprised him that, as the youngest, she was the one who paid the least attention to their mother’s rantings about him. “Thank you for inviting us, Dad,” she said as she pulled up her chair, reaching for a menu, excitement filling her voice. “Are you doing anything special for your birthday?” she asked, looking to Jonathon.
“We’re going to the lake for a few days,” Jonathon answered, his own excitement coming through regardless of the boys’ stony expressions.
“Lake George? I always love going there in the summer. This is the perfect time to be there.”
“No,” her father corrected lightly, “we’re going to Raquette Lake for a few days.”
“Must be nice,” Adam grumbled, glowering
at Jonathon.
“That’s enough,” Greg interrupted. “All three of you spent your summers at camp on Raquette Lake, and none of you were deprived of anything. As I told you on the phone, you’re all adults, and I expect you to start acting like it.”
Jonathon saw Eric’s expression soften into shame, and even Adam looked contrite, at least for a few minutes.
“So, Dad, did you actually get to meet Harry Jenkins, All-American?” Adam sounded almost skeptical, but he continued. “Is he as cool in person as he is in on television?”
Jonathon could see the conflict on Greg’s face, knowing he wanted to make his son happy but couldn’t say much about the man without breaking any confidences.
“He was pretty nice.”
Jonathon knew Greg wasn’t telling the truth, but it was what his kids wanted to hear. No one wanted to know that someone you admired was the biggest pain in the ass on earth in real life.
The server arrived and they placed their orders; then the conversation turned to school and the classes each of the kids would be taking in the fall. All through lunch, Jonathon kept watching the boys, wondering when something was going to happen, waiting for some barb to be thrown his way, but nothing came. After they’d eaten, Greg excused himself.
“So Jonathon, how’s the mining coming?” Adam asked, and Eric snickered into his water.
“Excuse me?” Jonathon put down his fork, telling himself it had been too good to be true.
“Well, since Dad’s getting older, we figured you must be digging for gold in the back yard. After all, you’re not getting any younger either,” Adam commented before adding, “Your looks are definitely fading, so you better get what you can, fast.”
Jonathon didn’t know how to react, but he could figure out where this idea had come from. “I’ve never wanted anything from your father except his love,” he answered truthfully.
