Love Most Inconvenient Page 6

  One day, catching Paul in the station break room, Phil said that he had told his wife about them.

  “Really?” Paul looked up at him. He missed Phil, and he was beginning to mellow. “What did you say?”

  “I told her that I loved you. Paul, can’t we get together and have dinner? Talk?” He moved closer to him.

  Just then, Marco came into the room. He eyed Phil, who moved away from Paul. Marco poured some coffee.

  “Marco.” Phil smiled at him.

  “Phil.” Marco nodded coldly.

  “We’ll talk about it later,” Paul replied, and left the room.

  When Paul got home that night, Marco was in the kitchen preparing supper. “I have pasta, too much, want some?” He cast Paul a glance over his shoulder.

  “Yeah. That would be great,” Paul muttered, getting some water. He started to hum a little.

  Marco glanced at him. “I see you’ve made up with Phil.”

  “Made up? No. We’re talking, that’s all.”

  “Um. Has he left his wife yet?”

  “No. But he told her about us.”

  “I see.”

  “Okay, spill it.” Paul moved closer to him, putting his hands on his hips. “What do you want to say?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Yes, you do, you, the guru of wonderful relationships, the guy who wouldn’t know love if it bit you on that great ass of yours.”

  Marco stopped stirring the pasta and turned around. “My great ass, eh?”

  “You have selective hearing! That wasn’t the most salient point.” Paul laughed. “The point is that you know nothing about love.”

  “That’s quite an assumption.”

  Paul met his gaze and laughed, downing his water. “Come on, you’re the king of one-night stands. How many men have you slept with in the last month?”

  “Not as many as you imagine, and that’s not the point either.” He shook his dark head. He had tied his hair back and it looked damp, like he had been in the shower recently. He was wearing sweatpants and a tattered old T-shirt. He still looked sensational.

  “Then, what is the point?”

  “The point is”—he sighed—“that Phil left you high and dry. You gave up your apartment for him. He says he loves you and wants to make a life with you, but he has already done that with someone else … a woman! He doesn’t care about your feelings, or the feelings of his wife.”

  “Don’t bring me down. I love him.”

  “I don’t understand why,” Marco said, stirring the pasta again.

  “I just do. If you’d ever been in love, you’d understand.” Paul put down his glass.

  “I’ve been in love,” he said suddenly.

  Paul froze. “What?”

  He turned around. “I was in love once.”

  “Don’t tell me with Shawn?”

  “No, not Shawn,” he scoffed. “It was a few years ago.”

  Paul laughed. “Don’t shit me.”

  “I’m not shitting you,” he protested. “I was twenty-three years old. I fell in love, and I got burned. Why do you think I have such a big apartment?”

  “I often wondered about that. But I can’t picture you in love, that’s all.”

  Marco strained the pasta and then took down two plates. “You seem to think I’m some sort of sex machine or something, with a heart made out of granite.”

  Paul laughed. “Well, not granite … steel, maybe.”

  “Thanks,” Marco replied, pouring some sauce over the pasta.

  Paul glanced at him. For a moment there, Marco sounded as if he was a little hurt by the comment. They sat down to eat. “The sauce is good,” Paul said, changing the subject.

  “It was my grandmother’s recipe. It takes forever to make. I keep some in the freezer. Help yourself to it.”

  “Thanks.” They talked about his grandmother for a few minutes, then fell silent. Paul put down his fork and looked at him sitting there across the table. He couldn’t help but be curious about Marco being in love. “So, do you feel like telling me about it, or is it something you’d rather not talk about?”

  He raised an eyebrow and poured himself some wine, then offered to pour some more in Paul’s glass. Paul shook his head. “Tell you about what?”

  “You in love.”

  “I’ll tell you if you want. I haven’t thought about that in a long time.”

  Paul leaned forward. “Was he handsome?”

  “Yeah, he was, in a bohemian kind of way. I met him when I got my first radio job. It was doing commercials at WJCM.”

  Paul laughed. “You worked at that country music station in New Jersey?”

  “Never mind.” He scowled. “It was a job. He was DJ there then.”

  “Is he still there?”

  “Nope. He’s gone. I think he works in Denver or something. Anyway, we met, we fell in love, or rather, I did. We moved in together, into this place. I was on top of the world until I found out he was sleeping with another guy at the station.”

  “Ouch.” Paul winced. “Sorry. How long did it last?”

  “About a year, I think. When I told him I knew he was sleeping around, he didn’t seem concerned about it. He said I was overreacting.”

  Paul shook his head. “What a bastard. But I’m sure you weren’t being faithful either. Did he know about that?”

  Marco looked up from his plate. “I was being faithful,” he said sharply. “I was in love.”

  Paul didn’t know what to say. He just nodded.

  “Anyway”—Marco shrugged, downing the rest of his wine—“to make a long story short, he decided to accept a job somewhere else and he moved out. Told me it wasn’t because of me but it was because the other job paid more.” Marco laughed. “Luckily I got the job at WYRT soon after he left and I could afford the rent, so I stayed on.”

  “And after that, you decided to be a cad,” Paul teased.

  “Yes, Paul,” he replied with a frown, “a real heartless creep who only wants one thing.” He picked up his plate and stood up. “You ever stop to think that the guys I sleep with get exactly what they want from me as well, that the using is mutual?”

  He disappeared into the kitchen, leaving Paul pondering that. Of course he was right. He didn’t promise them anything, but they didn’t promise him anything back.

  “It’s not what I want,” Paul announced, bringing his plate into the kitchen.

  Marco took his plate, rinsed it, then stuck it in the dishwasher. “What do you want, Paul?”

  “Phil, I think,” Paul replied softly. “I think I should fight for him.”

  “I think Phil should fight for you.” Marco gave him a meaningful look.

  Paul laughed. “Why?”

  Marco moved closer to him and placed a hand on his shoulder. He lifted his chin up with one finger and said, “Because I think you’re worth fighting for.”

  With that he left him standing in the kitchen.

  That night about two in the morning, Paul made his way to the kitchen. He opened the fridge and stood in front of it, wearing only his underwear.

  He almost jumped out of his skin when he heard a deep voice say from behind him, “Watch out, you’re going to get a draft standing in front of the fridge like that.”

  Paul closed the door and turned around with a gasp. “You ass! Don’t sneak up on me like that. You scared me shitless.”

  Marco was standing there in front of him, also wearing next to nothing. He wore only a very skimpy pair of black underwear.

  Paul’s gaze went automatically to the bulge between his legs, then to the floor.

  “You’re horrible at that,” Marco groaned, moving in beside Paul to look inside the fridge.

  “At what?” Paul muttered, moving away from him.

  “Checking out a guy’s package. You got to be more subtle about it,” he replied, laughing.

  “I was … was … not … checking out your…” Paul stuttered, embarrassed.

  “Of course you were.” He clo
sed the fridge door. “Here, let me show you how to do it,” he said with a comical grin. He placed his hands on Paul’s shoulders. “Okay, stand right there.”

  “What are you doing?” Paul protested, his face twisting into a grin despite himself.

  Marco moved his gaze over him a few times before settling on Paul’s face. “See!” He threw up his hands.

  Paul shook his head, laughing. “You really are an ass. I can’t believe you just did that.”

  “You’re blushing,” he accused, pointing his finger.

  “I am not,” Paul replied.

  “Blushing!” Marco repeated loudly, pointing his finger again.

  “Okay, Delino, you’re going to pay for that one!” Paul squealed and chased him out of the kitchen.

  He reached out and knocked Marco over the sofa onto his back, landing hard on top, pushing his arms over his head. “Take it back, jerk!” Paul insisted, his face trying to be serious, but overflowing with laughter.

  “Never.” Marco struggled underneath him.

  “I was not blushing and I was not checking out your package.”

  “Were too,” he sang back loudly.

  They started to laugh. The struggling continued, and then suddenly they both realized that here they were, half naked, lying on top of each other and there was no way to disguise the fact that they were both hard as rock.

  Paul sobered first and released his hold on Marco. He found himself looking into his eyes and he wasn’t laughing anymore. Marco’s laughter also died in his throat.

  Paul went to climb off of him. “I’m sorry … I…”

  Marco held onto his arms. “Don’t,” he whispered. “Don’t run away.”

  “I’m not running anywhere, I’m…” He was lost suddenly, looking down into his eyes. Marco’s mostly naked body was so close to his.

  “Kiss me,” Marco invited.

  “What?” Paul laughed, trying to pull away, but Marco held his face.

  “God damn it, Paul, kiss me. Don’t be scared.”

  “I’m not scared.”

  Marco lifted up his head and kissed his mouth hotly.

  Paul gasped. “What are you … Marco, don’t … I…”

  Marco kissed him again, this time pulling him back down on top of him.

  Paul moaned against him, drowning in those kisses, his entire body on fire from being this close to him. What in hell were they doing? He began to struggle again. What if he let it happen? What if … no … it couldn’t happen. “Stop it, Marco!”

  Marco released him, and sat up. “I’m sorry,” he said, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

  “It was nothing, really. We were only fooling around.” Paul sat up, not looking at him. “It was just a harmless kiss.”

  “Is that what it was?”

  Paul’s eyes did go to Marco’s erection now. It was a quarter of a way out of his underwear and it was beautiful. He swallowed, stifled an inward groan, and tore his gaze away. “Of course,” he muttered.

  Realizing where Paul’s eyes were, Marco tucked himself inside again. “Well,” he said, clearing his throat, “guess we should go to bed. We have an early day tomorrow.”

  “Yeah. Good night, Marco.”

  Paul looked down at his own erection when he got back to his room and shook his head. What in hell had happened, or almost happened? To Marco, it would mean nothing if they’d slept together. To a guy like Marco, it would be like brushing his teeth, just another notch on his bedpost. He couldn’t bear to be another notch on Marco’s bedpost. But he couldn’t help wondering what it would have been like to have made love with him. The thought of it kept him awake half the night.

  Chapter Three

  The following night, Paul sipped his wine and listened to Marco’s deep, sexy voice on the radio as he waited for Tony to come over for dinner. Marco was working the all-night show.

  “This is Marco Delino, coming to you live from Rock and Talk radio, New York’s number one place for rock. Stay with me tonight, baby, and I will rock all night long. Here’s a little bit of foreplay”—he brought his voice down to a sexy whisper—“with Brie Anton and Passion, just to get ya wet.”

  The song came on, and Paul smiled. No wonder he was so popular, the way he talked. He had made a habit of listening to Marco on Saturday nights when Phil was tied up. There was a phone-in show, and wacky people often called in.

  Tony arrived a few minutes later. Paul poured him some wine and turned up the radio. Tony also loved the Rock and Talk Saturday night show.

  Some heavy metal tune had just finished playing and Marco’s voice boomed onto the airways. “Yaaaaaaaaaaa, ride me baby. That was just a little bit of Wild Moon for those of you who like your lovers hot!”

  Paul laughed as Tony raised his eyebrows up and down. “God, what a man. What a voice. You rode him yet?” Tony asked, getting a little tipsy.

  Paul chuckled and shook his head. “Tony! No, I haven’t ridden him yet … but last night, we both got hard together.” Paul started to laugh as Tony gasped.

  “What? Go slow, enunciate. Tell me every detail.”

  Paul grinned. “Nothing happened. We were fooling around in our underwear, but damn, he has a nice one, that I tell you. Um. Wish I’d seen all of it.”

  “You saw it?”

  “Just the tip of it. Now shut up, someone is phoning in, I want to hear.”

  “Ya, this is Marco Delino, taking your calls here on Saturday night live at Rock and Talk Radio. Okay, you’re on the line, go ahead.”

  “Mr. Delino. My name is Amie Prince and I was ordained by God to let the people know that you ,sir, are the devil here on earth”.

  Paul howled with laughter. “Oh God, can’t wait to hear what he says to her.”

  “Amie, you say?”

  “Do you accept the Lord thy God as your Lord and—”

  “Amie, I’m going to give you a phone number of a friend of mine. He knows how to help people like you. You may need an exorcist.”

  “I don’t need the exorcist, you do. You’re the devil.”

  “Then, honey, I say it takes one to know one. What are you doing listening to my show? You are being corrupted by my power as we speak. Shouldn’t you be in church or reading the Bible or something like that? Or is it that my voice gets you hot, and you just can’t help but tune in on that dial? The devil is winning, Amie. You’d better turn me off right now.”

  “You are disgusting. I can help you. I think you should come over to my house so that we can talk.”

  “I see. I don’t think I can make it, honey. Good night, Amie. Ah, we all have our demons, our secret desires, deep in the night. Let’s listen to a little bit of Give It All to Me, Baby. And Amie, I wish you peace.”

  Paul and Tony were howling with laughter. Many of the calls were weird like that. Marco handled them all with his own special sense of humor. Paul and Tony fell asleep listening to the radio.

  When Paul woke up, Marco was in the kitchen making coffee. “Just get home?” Paul asked him, rubbing his eyes sleepily as he got up from the sofa. Tony had gone and crawled into Paul’s bed a few hours before.

  “Yep,” he said, still dressed in jeans and a T-shirt. “Looks like you had a hard night. You slept on that sofa?”

  “I passed out. It’s comfortable. Tony and I listened to your show most of the night. It was funny.”

  “I had some live ones last night. It must have been a full moon.”

  Paul laughed.

  Tony now came out of the bedroom, blinking. “Hi,” he said, looking at Marco. “Finally I get to meet you.”

  “Hi.” Marco smiled at him, then went back to making his coffee.

  Tony gave Paul a “he’s to die for” look.

  Paul held back laughter.

  Marco drank his coffee and sat around talking to Tony and Paul for about a half hour, then excused himself and went to bed.

  Tony laid his head down on the table after Marco disappeared into the bedroom, a dreamy look on his face. Pa
ul grinned at him. “So I guess I don’t need to ask you what you thought of him.”

  “Paul”—Tony raised his head—“I think you’re a real butthead for not going for it when you had the chance. He’s gorgeous, that body, that smile … holy, and he’s really nice.”

  Paul gave Tony a half nod. In the past, a statement like that would have caused him to go into defensive mode, but lately he found himself more inclined to agree. Living here with Marco this last year had caused him to see many different sides of the man, things he’d never imagined. Yes, he had different lovers, but there were times when he didn’t go out, and many nights he slept alone.

  They had spent a lot of time together, evenings where they would eat popcorn and watch a movie or just talk about anything. And not once had Marco put the moves on him. And as much as Paul would have liked to have denied it, there was chemistry between them, some electrical current that definitely was sexually charged. It had always been there, but that night when Paul had jumped on top of him, it had become more than apparent to both of them. And because of what had happened that night, it seemed that lately Marco avoided being alone with him. It was just as well. Just because Marco had layers didn’t mean he was going to jump into bed with him.

  “What about Phil?” Tony was saying now. “Has he made any decisions? Are you together or what?”

  Paul pulled himself out of his quiet ponderings and looked at his friend. “We’re communicating again. He loves me. I just have to give him time to work things out with his wife, that’s all.”

  “How much time?” Tony quipped.

  “Oh, Tony, let’s just drop the subject of Phillip. It’s all going to work out.”

  “Then he’s the love of your life?” Tony mocked.

  “Yes,” Paul replied.

  Tony’s eyes moved in the direction of Marco’s bedroom. “I think the love of your life is right in front of your eyes. You’re just too stubborn to admit it.”

  Paul laughed uncomfortably. “Right, Tony,” he mocked. “And even if that was true, it would be impossible. He’s not the kind of guy you settle down with, so drop it.”