A Little Holiday Temptation

by Janice Sims

  Ana pulled herself together and introduced Pietro to Erik. “Pietro this is my fiancé, Erik Whitaker. Erik, this is my childhood friend, Pietro Lanza.”

  The two men shook hands, Erik trying not to let his irritation show on his face.

  If he did look irritated, Pietro didn’t seem to notice. He enthusiastically pumped Erik’s hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Erik.” He gestured to his date. “I’d like you two to meet Hilary Eastbrook. Hilary is my assistant.”

  Ana shook Hilary’s hand and smiled warmly. “How are you, Hilary?”

  Hilary smiled back shyly. “Oh, it’s a real treat to meet you, Ms. Corelli. I’ve followed your career forever!”

  Ana continued to smile at the woman who appeared to be about her age, “How sweet,” she said. “And, please, call me Ana.” Her mind was racing. She knew she couldn’t drag Pietro off and interrogate him. He’d just arrived. But she wanted to ask him what had happened to the lovely gay boy she had known thirteen years ago? Had he just been going through a phase? Was that even possible? Of her gay friends, and she had many, once they realized they were gay they didn’t suddenly wake up to be heterosexual one morning.

  “I happened to mention coming here tonight at the office,” Pietro told Ana, “and Hilary started talking about her plans for tonight.”

  “Which consisted of microwave popcorn and a DVD,” joked Hilary.

  “So I asked her to join me,” Pietro concluded. “Remember, I was reluctant to come without a date.”

  “I’m glad you asked Hilary,” Ana said graciously. The bell rang announcing more guests. “Please, enjoy yourselves.”

  When Pietro and Hilary were out of earshot, Erik quipped, “He didn’t tongue you, did he?”

  “Absolutely not,” said Ana as they walked to the door. “I wouldn’t have let him. Frankly, I’m confused about his behavior.”

  “Well, I didn’t like his behavior, either.”

  “I don’t mean just the kiss,” Ana said. She opened the door. Erik’s parents and Drusilla had arrived. Pietro was forgotten as she and Erik welcomed them. A short time later, Belana and Nick showed up, looking wonderful in their evening clothes. They were the last of the guests on the list, so Erik and Ana went to stand in the middle of the dance floor to formally welcome everyone and introduce the band.

  The local five-member blues band included a pianist, two guitar players, a drummer and a trumpet player. Their vocalist, who simply called herself Maybelline, was an attractive full-figured African-American woman with a powerful voice. She went right into an upbeat set that got the guests onto the dance floor. Erik and Ana set the example by being the first couple on the floor, followed by Belana and Nick.

  Maybelline sang, “Something’s Got a Hold on Me,” with verve. It was lively enough to lend itself to a swing dance which is what Erik and Ana wound up doing to the delight of the guests. Not to be outdone Belana and Nick displayed their talent for the intricate twists and turns in that style of dance. At one point the couples’ movements brought them close enough to converse on the dance floor and Ana called to Belana. “It’s not fair. You’re a professional.”

  “All’s fair in love and dance,” Belana joked, and allowed Nick to lift her in the air.

  “I hope you don’t want to try that,” Erik said, laughing.

  “And break my neck?” Ana replied, admiring Belana and Nick’s skill. “No, thank you,” she joked.

  After two more songs, which were designed to get the party started, Maybelline slowed things down a bit with “This Magic Moment.” Ana felt a gentle tap on her shoulder. She turned around to find Drusilla standing behind her. “May I have this dance with my grandson?”

  Ana relinquished her dance partner after kissing Drusilla’s cheek, and saying, “Don’t wear him out.”

  “I can’t make any promises,” was Drusilla’s cheeky response.

  Because Drusilla was so short, Erik had to bend down a bit to dance with his grandmother. He felt like picking her up and setting her on the tops of his feet like he’d seen some fathers do with their little girls at weddings.

  Drusilla gazed up at him through her thick glasses. “You’re devilishly handsome tonight. You remind me of your grandfather when we first got married. We used to dance the night away at the Savoy in Harlem.”

  Ana was not without a dance partner for long. Pietro claimed her. She took the opportunity to catch up on as much as they could of the last thirteen years as they danced.

  “Why didn’t you answer any of my letters?” she asked, peering into his eyes.

  “We were still grieving when we left Milan. Everything had changed overnight, it seemed. My mother cried all the time. I thankfully read your letters but didn’t know how to respond. I had told you something I’d never shared with anyone else. I was scared I had done the wrong thing. And months later after I’d also told my mother, I knew I had to stop telling people about my true feelings. I thought it best to sever ties with anyone who knew the truth.”

  “She didn’t take it well?” asked Ana, concerned.

  “Not at all,” Pietro confirmed. His expression was sad as he continued, “Her husband was dead and now her son was gay? She told me she had a heart condition and I shouldn’t be joking about something that outrageous. I followed her cue and told her I’d been teasing and never brought it up again.”

  “Does she really have a heart condition?”

  “I’ve never seen any medical records, but I doubt it.”

  “So you keep your private life private,” Ana deduced.

  “Unfortunately, yes,” he said softly, smiling at her. “In all fairness I could have made things clear to her years ago, but even today it’s easier to be considered hetero than it is to be outwardly gay. It isn’t easy leading a double life. Women take it I’m an Italian stallion because of the way I look. And any serious relationship I attempt with a man ends badly because I won’t declare to the world that I want to be with him. So I don’t have anyone special in my life.”

  His explanation had the ring of truth to Ana. The recent glut of news stories about bullying and young gay people committing suicide because of continual mistreatment proved that it was still not safe to be yourself in today’s society.

  She hugged him. “You’re still so young. You’ll find someone. In the meantime, your secret’s safe with me.”

  He sighed with relief. “I’m glad you’re the same old Ana, the one I could always talk to.”

  They once again regained the proper distance and continued the dance. When the song ended, Pietro asked Hilary to dance, and Ana returned to Erik’s arms.

  “You looked kind of cozy with Pietro,” Erik commented dryly.

  “We were just talking,” Ana said nonchalantly. “He’s had a hard time finding someone he can relate to. We always found it easy to talk to each other.” She moved closer to him and laid her head on his shoulder. “Don’t worry, sweetie, I’m not his type.”

  “I’m not worried,” Erik denied.

  “You sounded a little put out.”

  “I get antsy when another man touches my girl.”

  She smiled up at him. “Rest assured, your girl would not allow anyone to touch her inappropriately. Italians are bit more demonstrative than Americans, that’s all. When we see friends and family we kiss, we hug, we feed them.” She ended with a laugh.

  “You could also be describing African-Americans,” Erik said with a grin. He gestured to the buffet table in the distance where Abby was feeding Harry a jumbo shrimp.

  It was nearing the midnight hour when Ana went into the store room to retrieve the party hats and noisemakers. Everyone helped themselves from the huge box and then Erik directed their attention to the big screen TV that had been installed on the wall above the fireplace in the great room.

  Champagne glasses were fi
lled and then everyone was ready for the countdown. Couples put their arms around one another. When the ball dropped in Times Square everyone at the Whitaker’s New Year’s Eve party shouted, “Happy New Year!”

  Erik and Ana kissed as did every other couple in the room. The band struck up “Auld Lang Syne” and those who remembered the words sang along. Laughter abounded, but some tears were shed, too.

  “This year will be the best ever,” Erik whispered in Ana’s ear, “Because I’m marrying you.”

  Ana just smiled and kissed him again.

  Chapter 12

  “Eat, eat,” Pietro encouraged Ana, stuffing pizza into his own mouth.

  Laughing, Ana purposely put down the pizza slice in her hand. “What? Do you have orders to fatten me up or something?”

  “You’re representing a line of clothing designed for full-figured women and you’re too skinny,” Pietro complained good-naturedly.

  “I’m not one of those size-zero models. I’m a size eight, I’m not skinny. Anyway, that’s why you’re using models of all sizes in the ads, so no woman will feel left out.” She picked up the pizza again. “Now, let me eat in peace!”

  They dined at a pizzeria not far from the studio of Ivan Ivanovich, the world-renowned photographer, where Ana had posed for him in the new line of clothes. The shoot had lasted for ten hours. Ana was worn out and not very hungry but she’d agreed to a pizza with Pietro after the shoot because Erik was out of town. She was used to his frequent business trips and had vowed not to become a nagging fiancée. Though she missed him terribly.

  It was now the last week in January and she and Pietro had been working hard to put the finishing touches on the spring campaign for Voluptuous Woman, Corelli Fashions’ full-figured line.

  She was enjoying getting to know Pietro all over again. The boy she had loved was still in there. He was sweet, and kind and funny. She found herself wanting to find a guy for him. Matchmaking wasn’t something she usually considered, believing that sticking your nose in someone else’s love life rarely ended well. In spite of her misgivings, though, whenever she ran into male gay friends she made it a point to ask if they were presently involved with anyone.

  She looked at Pietro now, “Are you still seeing Hilary?”

  “We’re friends,” he said, but she could tell by his reluctance to meet her gaze he wasn’t being completely truthful. Pietro was a bad liar.

  “Does she know that?”

  “Nothing’s going to happen between us,” he said, raising his gaze to hers. “I never get intimate with women. I break up with them before it gets to that stage.”

  “Isn’t it going to be difficult to break up with Hilary since she’s your assistant?” Ana asked pointedly. She hated to see him squirm but someone had to ask him the hard questions.

  He sighed. “You’re right. I should tell her we can’t date anymore.”

  “Good luck with that,” Ana said. “She’s already half in love with you.”

  He shook his head. “She just has a little crush.”

  “Have you ever seen yourself in a mirror? You’re better looking than most male models. You can’t casually date women. One of these days you’re going to run into a nut who won’t take no for an answer.”

  “Been there,” he admitted. “I’ve been stalked a few times.”

  “See? It’s not nice to play with women’s emotions,” Ana said, reaching over to grasp his hand. She met his gaze, her expression serious. “How do you know your mother doesn’t already know and accept your sexuality? Many of my gay friends have said that when they told their parents they already were aware they were gay. Kind of a letdown, isn’t it? I mean you get all prepared for an emotional scene and your mom looks at you and says, ‘Yeah, I’ve known that for a long time now.’ Of course you’ll never find out unless you talk to her.”

  “I know, I know,” said Pietro, his eyes downcast.

  “That’s the end of my speech,” said Ana. “I won’t bring it up again, ever. I just hate to see you so unhappy.”

  “I’m getting there,” Pietro said. “One day soon I’m going to tell her, and let it hit the fan.”

  Ana didn’t comment. She felt she had harangued him enough. It was his life, therefore it was his decision.

  “What I’d rather be talking about is how you and Ivan were looking at each other,” she teased lightly. “He’s available, you know. His longtime boyfriend was killed in a car accident about two years ago and he’s been taking things slowly when it comes to romance. It’s hard when you lose someone you love like that. But he recently told me he’s thinking of dating again. If you’re interested I could put in a good word for you.”

  Pietro colored. Ana smiled because she had obviously judged Ivan and Pietro’s encounter correctly—Pietro was interested in the sexy photographer.

  “He wouldn’t be interested in me,” Pietro said. “He’s famous. I’m just a worker bee.”

  “You’re the head of the New York office of an international company,” Ana said enthusiastically. “I’m not gonna let you down-rate yourself.”

  Pietro scrunched up his face. “Do you really think he’s interested? He’s gorgeous. He reminds me of that guy who’s in that vampire show on HBO.”

  “Alexander Skarsgard.” Ana supplied the name of the handsome actor.

  “Yeah, him,” Pietro murmured wistfully. “I don’t know, Ana.”

  “Faint heart never won fair…um, guy,” Ana said encouragingly.

  “I’ll think about it,” Pietro said noncommittally.

  “Okay, cool,” Ana relented. “But don’t think too long. A guy like Ivan won’t be on the market forever.”

  They finished the pizza, and when they left the restaurant it was nearly eleven. The wind was fierce and the temperature in the thirties. Nonetheless the streets were crowded in this part of town. Ana momentarily gazed up at the night sky. There were too many tall buildings obscuring her view of the heavens to tell if there were any stars out. When they were in Aspen one of the things she’d liked most was walking out at night and seeing the sky lit up with stars twinkling like diamonds.

  “I’ll take you home,” said Pietro, putting her arm through his in a gentlemanly fashion.

  “You live farther away than I do,” Ana said reasonably. “I can get home on my own.”

  “I insist.”

  “All right,” Ana relented, touched by his gesture.

  Half an hour later they were walking into her loft. Ana shut and locked the door behind them, then turned to Pietro and said, “Look, why don’t you just stay here tonight? I’ve plenty of room. It’s Friday, you don’t have to be at the office in the morning.”

  “You had to remind me,” said Pietro as he walked into the living room and picked up the TV’s remote and switched it on. “Friday night, and I don’t have a date.”

  “I’m sure Hilary would have gone out with you if you hadn’t had to work late,” Ana said teasingly.

  “I mean a real date.”

  Ana pulled off her jacket revealing jeans and a long-sleeve black pullover sweater. “So I take it that you’re staying. Hand me your coat.”

  Pietro pulled off his zippered black leather coat and handed it to Ana. “You convinced me. What sort of movies do you have? Got any popcorn?”

  Chuckling, Ana put their coats in the foyer closet and joined him in the living room. “Let’s see, I just got Ninja Assassin, have you seen it?” She knew of Pietro’s predilection for martial arts movies. Or, at least, he used to like them. They used to argue about who the best martial arts actor was. She liked Jackie Chan because he was also funny. Pietro preferred Jet Li because, in Pietro’s words, he was such a badass.

  “Seen it?” he said, his eyes lighting up. “About ten times. Put it on.”

  Ana did so, and then she went
to the kitchen to microwave some popcorn. When she returned with the bowl of popcorn and two sodas, Pietro was fast-forwarding through the previews on the DVD.

  “Hold on, I like watching those,” she protested. “I might see something I’m interested in seeing.”

  Pietro laughed. “I knew people like you existed, but I just had never met one before. You actually have the patience to watch the previews and not want to get right to the movie?”

  Ana set the bowl of popcorn on the coffee table in front of them and handed him a Coke. Her eyes were on the TV’s screen. “Another Nightmare on Elm Street movie,” she said. “Glad I missed that one. Freddy Krueger never dies.”

  She sat down beside him on the couch. Finally the movie’s selection screen came on, and Ana grimaced. “This already looks like it’s going to be bloody.” The photo was of Rain, the star of the film, dressed in black leather with a chain whipped across his body a deadly blade at its tip, cuts over all of him and his mouth open in what looked like a war cry.

  Pietro smiled. “It’s not so bad.” He pressed play.

  The first ten minutes was a bloodbath. Ana watched only through slits of her eyelids. “Oh, my God, tell me when it’s over!”

  But then Naomie Harris came onto the screen portraying an investigator for Europol trying to prove that Ninjas existed and were hired assassins and the movie became more enjoyable.

  Because she was exhausted Ana wound up going to sleep halfway through. Pietro finished watching the movie, then got up to go to the bathroom. When he returned to the living room, Erik was entering into the loft having used his key.

  The expression on Erik’s face froze Pietro in his footsteps. The muscles worked in Erik’s strong jaw. His eyes narrowed. “I had no idea you would be here,” he said coldly.

  Erik had not yet seen Ana asleep on the couch because the couch’s back was to the front door of the loft. He would’ve had to enter the living room to see her laying there.