Acrobat
Authors: Mary Calmes
Readers love
M
ARY
C
ALMES
Mine
“
Mine
has drama, sizzling sex, danger, excitement, and a riveting storyline that will grab you and hold you till the end.”
—A Joyfully Recommended Read, Joyfully Reviewed
Again
“(An) incredibly romantic and sweet story with just the right side of drama.”
—The Romance Studio
Sinnerman
“…packed full of intrigue, romance, excitement and hot steamy sex!”
—Dark Divas Reviews
After the Sunset
“There’s just something about this well-developed and believable couple that pulls as the heartstrings.”
—Literary Nymphs
Change of Heart
“
Change of Heart
will hold a special place in my TBR list for those occasions when I need to true love in all its many forms.”
—Coffee Time Romance and More
By
M
ARY
C
ALMES
N
OVELS
Change of Heart
Honored Vow
Trusted Bond
A Matter of Time, Vol. 1 & 2
Bulletproof
Acrobat
The Guardian
Mine
Timing
N
OVELLAS
After the Sunset
Again
Any Closer
Frog
Romanus
The Servant
What Can Be
T
HE
W
ARDER
S
ERIES
His Hearth
Tooth and Nail
Heart in Hand
Sinnerman
Nexus
Cherish Your Name
Published by
D
REAMSPINNER
P
RESS
http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com
Copyright
Published by
Dreamspinner Press
382 NE 191st Street #88329
Miami, FL 33179-3899, USA
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.
Acrobat
Copyright © 2012 by Mary Calmes
Cover Art by Anne Cain
[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, 382 NE 191st Street #88329, Miami, FL 33179-3899, USA
http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com/
ISBN: 978-1-61372-500-9
Printed in the United States of America
First Edition
May 2012
eBook edition available
eBook ISBN: 978-1-61372-501-6
The idea for
Acrobat
was inspired by a painting of Steve Walker’s called
Parallel Dreams
. I saw it on his website and was moved to try and capture what led to the moment in the relationship of the two men, one of aching tenderness and trust. My version has its flaws, his artwork has none. When I finished the book, I asked if the picture might possibly be used for the cover and only then was informed that he had passed away. He will be missed, and I for one cannot thank him enough for all the wonderful ideas he gave me.
—Mary Calmes
The allure of the figure has been immortalized in painting and sculpture for centuries, yet few artists capture the quiet grace and vulnerability underlying the voluptuous musculature and sinewy lines of the idealized male nude. Through light and color, Steve Walker created warm, living,
real
men of beauty and emotion on the canvas, imbuing his figures with the subtle tenderness of shared love and quiet moments of reflection. As an artist, I cannot express how much his artistic voice has influenced my own, helping me to ground the idealized male physique in a language that conveys the sincerity of true emotion. The body of work he leaves behind in the wake of his short life is a treasure—not only for us in the art community, but for all who understand that underneath the chiseled physique of a Greek god is the warm, beating heart of a human soul.
While I can never compare myself to your mastery, Steve, the cover art for
Acrobat
is a small token of thanks for what you’ve given us. You will be missed and loved, always.
—Anne Cain
I would also like to say a special thank you to Ariel for her words on wine. I needed her desperately since I am woefully uneducated there. And to Lidia who was my Italian translator and understood exactly what I needed.
—Mary Calmes
Chapter 1
T
HERE
was just no way.
“You won’t know unless you try.”
I turned to look at my ex-wife, who was still my best friend in the world. “Are you kidding? It’s hopeless.”
“It’s actually kind of cute.”
“Oh God,” I groaned and buried my face in my folded arms.
We were having lunch on a Sunday at a bistro she liked that I, of course, had never heard of. But to say that she knew things about fine dining or even “chic” dining that I did not was the understatement of the century. She was more chateaubriand, and I was steak and potatoes.
“Sweetie, there’s nothing wrong with it.”
“I think there’s a code or something.”
“What code?”
“Thou shalt not covet your ex-s--students.”
She laughed. “I think you made that one up.”
“Oh God, it even sounds disgusting.”
“It does not.”
“Like you would know.”
“Don’t be an ass just because you’re having a crisis.”
I groaned louder.
“You said you had him in class fourteen years ago? Is that right?”
“I bet he doesn’t even know who Duran Duran is.”
She started laughing. “So that makes him, what, thirty-two now? Thirty-three?”
“Or a Rubik’s Cube.”
The laughing got harder. “Even thirty-two is perfectly respectable for a man of forty-five.”
“Oh God.”
“You’re so ridiculous.”
“That’s a thirteen-year age difference, Mel. I could be his father.”
She was lost in a fit of giggles.
“I could!”
She just shook her head, wiping at her eyes. Christ, it wasn’t that funny.
“Jared is closer to his age than mine.”
“True.” She shivered slightly in the crisp November air.
It made more sense for the man I had a very immature crush on to date my twenty-seven-year-old son. I was too old for him.
“But your son isn’t gay, and Sean is, and so are you, my darling.”
I lifted up my head, raked my fingers through my thick dirty-blond hair, and looked at her. “Do you mean to not help?”
“Love,” she chuckled, “twenty-eight years ago me and my best friend got drunk off our asses, and because he was hot—still is, I might add—I jumped his bones when I had the chance and got knocked up just like the nuns said I would.”
“Thank you for the recap.” I grunted, leaning back, looking at her.
Her hand went to my knee. “And lo and behold, nine months later you did the right thing and made an honest woman of me because you loved me and fell madly in love with your kid the second you saw him.”
“He was cute.” I sighed in memory.
“He looked like an undercooked slab of meatloaf.”
“That’s disgusting.”
“But true,” she added brightly. “And that cute little blob grew up to be a wonderful young man.”
“Who will make an excellent wildlife biologist very soon.” I smiled at her.
She made a noise that was not nice.
“Oh c’mon, Mel, everyone takes a semester off when they’re getting their doctorate,” I defended my wayward kid. “It’s a lot of studying to do all in one shot.”
She waved her hand dismissively. “Whatever. We’re not discussing Jare; we’re discussing you.”
“Let’s not.” I exhaled sharply, picking up my menu. “What’re we eating?”
She snatched the leather-bound piece from my hands, which should have been my first clue that I was out of my depth in the “bistro,” and smacked me with it.
“Owww,” I complained loudly.
She banged it back down on the table. “I want to talk about Sean.”
“I don’t. I’m not ready anyway.”
“No-no-no, you will not hide behind your dead relationship with Duncan anymore. It’s been over a year and a half, Nate. It’s time to dive back in.”
“I have,” I assured her. “I’ve been on some dates.”
“Who have you slept with?”
“How is that your business?”
“Nate, you need to get laid.”
“Ohmygod, could you speak up, please,” I said sarcastically. “The people one street over didn’t hear you.”
She tried not to smile.
“Jesus, woman,” I scolded her.
“It’s time to get back on the horse.”
“Mel—”
“Or back in the saddle, which is it?”
I dropped my voice an octave. “Listen to me—”
“Oh no, you did not just try and use your teacher voice on me.”
I rolled my eyes at her.
“How dare you.”
“Can we just—”
“You didn’t love him anyway.”
Again with the same argument—she was like a broken record. “I did.”
“You cared for him, but you didn’t love him. Someday, I hope, you’ll understand the difference.”
“There isn’t anything to get,” I argued. “Caring for someone, being in love with them, it’s the same thing. You’re arguing semantics.”
“I’m not.”
“You’re so stubborn.”
“And you’re in denial.”
I shook my head. “I don’t see the difference.”
“I know, and that’s the problem.”
“Being in love the way you’re talking about is nothing but trouble.”
“Spoken like a man who’s never been head over heels in love.”
“Thank God. Have you read
Romeo and Juliet
?”
She growled.
“I cared for Duncan deeply.”
She gave me a look.
“Listen, what does it matter what it was called? I was invested in the man’s happiness. How is that not love?”
“I hate it when you do that!”
“Do what?”
“You’re equating love and caring again, and we both know that love is more than caring, so therefore they cannot mean the same thing.”
“I love you, I love Jare, hell, I even love Ben. I know what—”