Chapter Five

The ballroom hummed, the champagne glittered, the dancers stepped and twirled to live music. Jack longed to go home.

Sal was out there now, spinning an angelic redhead in a green evening gown. In this case, Jack didn’t mind that prevailing homophobia among some of the families meant they would be unwise to dance together. Jack hated dancing because he was no good at it.

Maybe if he started over? Learned to dance with a man, with someone he loved, it would be a whole new world. Instead, the stumbling lessons of his youth were so many embarrassing fingertip-touches, ever leaning away from his partner, the instructor convinced he was tone-deaf.

He went for another drink, ran into a proffered tray of lobster mousse in tiny puff-pastry cups, and couldn’t let them go to waste.

The dancers applauded when the song ended.

One, two, three…

Sal popped up at his side. “Any sight of him?”

Jack shook his head and handed over a puff. “No one’s heard from him. I just saw Sarah and even she doesn’t know what’s happening.”

Sal absently nibbled the puff. “If Sarah Dommarco doesn’t know, no one does.”

He made a face and pushed the tiny pastry back at Jack. “I hate lobster.”

“Excuse me?”

Sal shrugged. “Lobster, crab, clams—is it too soon to leave?”

“I was going to ask you the same thing.”

Jack gulped the rejected puff.

“Yes.”

Sal scanned the crowd. “It is. But a man can dream. How about the next dance?” He offered Jack his hand.

“We can’t, and you know perfectly well I don’t want to. Do you think Cassaro’s okay? Because if someone started something…”

“We’d have heard by now.”

Sal sidled closer. “You know, this is a hotel.”

Jack slightly raised his eyebrows. “If we left for, say, half an hour, we wouldn’t be leaving early. We’d come back.”

Sal dropped his voice. “We could even drift in and out if we secured a room.”

“We could.”

Jack watched a new dance starting.

“I didn’t bring the toy bag.”

“Or lube?”

“Bound to be body oil somewhere in a place like this. They have a whole spa.”

“Good point.”

“Hello, Jack. Haven’t seen you in a while.”

Why were there so many people here? Had no one been intimidated by the snowstorm?

While Jack was caught up in small talk, Sal whisked an elderly lady in pearls onto the dance floor. It was another fifteen or twenty minutes before they could make their paths cross again, and then only after Sal had already promised another dance.

“What do you want right now?”

Sal whispered in his ear. “What wild, improbable fantasy is running through your mind as we speak?”

“Have you noticed the chandeliers?”

Jack whispered back.

Millions of tiny crystals made up strands like those pearls, so many glittering spiders’ webs, looping and weaving together over their heads.

Sal let out a breath. “More than thirty feet of that.”

“Much more.”

The next time their paths crossed, Jack tried asking. “Right now, what do you want?”

Speaking in Sal’s ear while they both accepted fresh drinks.

“To be drinking something a whole lot saltier.”

Sal sipped his champagne while watching the musicians. “And warmer.”

“Nice one.”

Jack also looked ahead, flushed and needing the cool bubbly.

“Thanks. You?”

“To be giving you that hot drink.”

“You’re such a loyal consigliere, Jack.”

“Naturally.”

“At least this time around.”

“Wow. You’ve always known how to hit below the belt.”

“Sorry.”

Sal winced. “Something about a four-hour hard-on is making me prickly.”

Jack glanced down. “You’re not.”

“In spirit. And you’d be surprised how forgiving these slacks are.”

“You look ravishing in a tux.”

“I know.”

“Too bad I can’t take it off you.”

“Tell me about it.”

Sal took a drink. “There’s Sarah again. I’ve got to ask if she’s heard anything. Jack?”

“Going right now to see about a room.”