In The Spotlight Read online

  In the Spotlight

  Shona Husk

  www.escapepublishing.com.au

  In the Spotlight

  Shona Husk

  A diva who lives for the spotlight, a sailor deeply in the closet, a love that will change them both

  Ripley Malone is returning to Perth in triumph. A principal ballet dancer in a production that has critics raving, he is an unqualified success, and all the small-minded people that made his life hell can kiss his lycra-covered ass. But behind the make-up and the glitter and the costumes, Ripley is beginning to tire, tire of the competition, the drive, the endless parade of meaningless lovers.

  For Pierce Lovell, joining the Navy was a way out of rural Victoria, but becoming a submariner comes with its own set of challenges. The close living quarters and long months away are awkward enough without adding any extra tension around his sexuality. The fear is probably in his head, but he isn’t taking any chances with his career. He gets by on anonymous one-night-stands every time they come to shore and keeps his heart well-shielded. But one night with Ripley opens the tantalising possibility of more.

  Through a mistake, Ripley is injured. He can’t dance. His wings are clipped and he crashes down and hits the earth hard. Pierce knows their affair can’t possibly end in anything but heartache, but he can’t stay away. As Ripley heals and reassesses his life, he is determined not to make the same mistakes again. That means letting someone see the vulnerable side of him. But vulnerability for Pierce could cost him everything.

  About the Author

  Shona Husk lives in Western Australia at the edge of the Indian Ocean. Blessed with a lively imagination, she spent most of her childhood making up stories. As an adult she discovered romance novels and hasn’t looked back.

  With over forty published books ranging from sensual to scorching, she writes contemporary, paranormal, fantasy and sci-fi romance. You can find out more at www.shonahusk.com, @ShonaHusk, facebook.com/shonahusk

  Newsletter: http://mad.ly/signups/119074/join

  Acknowledgements

  Thank you to Tamsyn Heynes from the Iridescence Dance Company for talking all things ballet with me. Any mistakes are mine.

  Thank you to hubby for his insights into the Navy and subs. HMAS Ellis is a fictional Collins Class submarine.

  Contents

  About the Author

  Acknowledgements

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Epilogue

  Bestselling Titles by Escape Publishing…

  Chapter 1

  A few drinks at the pub were exactly what Pierce Lovell needed to celebrate his promotion and pay rise. Some of the crew of HMAS Ellis were with him and they were buying. He let them. Getting made up to leading seaman was another goal checked off. He grinned as someone else slapped him on the back. The only way his weekend could get better was if managed to pick up.

  His smile slipped a little. He never picked up in Rockingham. It was too close to the base. Maybe he’d head into Perth.

  Blue pointed out a couple of women and gave Pierce a nudge. Pierce pretended to assess them. With their bleached blonde hair, fake eyelashes and tiny skirts, they weren’t the kind of women he’d been interested in even when he had tried to date women. By the time he was twenty he’d realised it was him, not them.

  That realisation had been liberating and terrifying all in the same breath.

  His parents pretended he’d never come out. It was one of those things that wasn’t talked about, much like the way his father hadn’t had a job in the last fifteen years. Since then Pierce hadn’t told anyone.

  He glanced at his crewmates. Who would freak at sharing a cabin with him? There were six beds per cabin and barely room to fart. As far as he knew, he was the only gay sailor on Ellis … but there could be someone else running silent too.

  Maybe no one would care and he was making it a bigger deal than it was.

  Trouble was, there was no way to tell until the truth was out and he didn’t have big enough balls to test his friends. It was better they think him dateless.

  ‘Come on, Lover. When was the last time you got laid?’

  There wasn’t much that could be done with his surname, but it still made him wince. Especially as they all seemed to think he was next to virginal.

  ‘About four weeks ago.’ That was the truth. He didn’t add that it had been a completely anonymous hook-up and also just a little disappointing. The guy was nice enough, but there’d been no chemistry. That was the trouble with hooking up. Sometimes it just didn’t all come together the way it should.

  ‘So you are way overdue. Chicks love sailors.’

  About the same way they loved chlamydia. Sailors still had a well-deserved reputation; they weren’t nicknamed pussers without reason.

  ‘You shouldn’t be looking. Isn’t your missus up the duff?’

  Blue’s expression soured. ‘Not my missus.’ He pointed to his ring finger.

  ‘And not my baby!’ Sweetlips shouted.

  Everyone fell about laughing. Blue just nodded, his lips pressed into thin line. He was, Pierce had decided, the best-looking man on the boat, even if he was a ginger. Usually he didn’t like gingers.

  All those freckles.

  He’d be lying if he hadn’t wondered just a little hopefully if Blue was looking elsewhere, but then he hadn’t wanted to be that person and Blue was far too honourable. They’d ended up becoming friends instead.

  Pierce dragged his eyes away, glad the attention had moved away from his lack of girlfriend or reluctance to pick up.

  He had duty tomorrow, maybe he’d go out on Sunday night. Nah, Sunday night was never good pickings. He’d be better heading into Perth midweek and catching himself a nice bottom in an expensive suit who didn’t want it getting back to his fiancée.

  That made him grin.

  At least he wasn’t screwing with anyone else’s life and pretending to be something he wasn’t. Wednesday was too far away.

  ***

  Ripley met his family for a late lunch. He was keeping an eye on the time as he had to be back at the theatre for another rehearsal. He didn’t care if he only got to sit down for five minutes, it was the first time he’d seen his parents in over six months.

  He hugged his mother who seemed shorter, then noticed she was wearing flats, no heels. His father shook his hand, but Ripley embraced him. No one would mention the Huntington’s unless he asked how his father was managing. He would, but not today.

  ‘Jacob.’ Paul offered his hand.

  Ripley considered not shaking his brother’s hand but that would be rude. He was the better man, as well as preferring men. Knowing it would piss his brother off, he gave him a hug. While his brother was rigid in his arms, Ripley whispered in his ear. ‘It’s Ripley, don’t be a dick in front of the parents.’

  He’d been using his middle name, his mother’s maiden name, since he was sixteen. Only Paul refused to make the change, as though it somehow offended him that his brother was a ballet-dancing queer.

  Maybe it did. Maybe Paul’s friends were the kind who said they supported gay marriage because it looked good, but then voted for the party that vowed not to make any change.

  Paul wouldn’t last a day in San Francisco. Ripley would make sure of that.

  The only thing Paul had ever done to redeem hi
mself was to make sure his friends at school hadn’t been part of the pack that had been after Ripley’s blood. He’d probably only done that because of their parents and because it wouldn’t look good on the résumé to mention hounding his brother for doing ballet.

  Back then no one had known, they’d just assumed. He had known.

  He remembered being fifteen and in the locker room after sports. The other boys had been talking about ways to get girls to take their bras off and he’d realised he didn’t care about seeing a naked girl. Cue an instant and inappropriate woody.

  ‘Are you going to come to opening night?’ Ripley grinned. His opening night. He was the star of the show.

  ‘Of course we are. We wouldn’t miss it.’ His mother beamed. She loved that he was using her maiden name and had admitted they had almost called him Ripley, but had been talked out of it by his now dead grandmother.

  ‘Very proud. I was worried when you took off to the States, but you’ve done well.’ His father’s praise meant the most. There had been reluctance to send him to dance class when he’d first begged to go, but in the end his father had decided it was better to let him try it out than make it a big deal.

  Thousands of dollars of classes and tights and later, shoes. And more shoes. He went through more shoes than the average socialite with a sugar daddy. A new pair for each show. For rehearsals …

  Ripley’s throat closed a little. ‘When I left it was make it or die trying.’

  His mother’s smile tightened. ‘I know how hard you are working. Are you getting enough rest?’

  No … but he was only twenty-six he didn’t need to sleep. Dancers had a limited time on stage and there were still things he wanted to do. As much as he loved modern ballet, it would be something else to play Prince Siegfried in Swan Lake.

  He was running out of time to make the switch, but at the same time—he was the principal dancer in a show. He couldn’t say no when the spotlight was for him.

  ‘I’m fine. Being on tour is hard. New cities. Class, rehearsal and a show each day.’ He shrugged. He wouldn’t trade it for a desk job. He glanced at his architect brother. Maybe Paul was just jealous because Ripley looked good in tights, whereas Paul would look like a haggis.

  ‘And how is … was it Liam?’ His father asked.

  Ripley winced. He had to stop telling his parents who he was seeing when they asked. Liam had been over two boyfriends ago. Nice guy, wanted way more than Ripley was willing to commit to. Liam had wanted them to move in together. Like, live together as in not see other people. ‘Over.’

  ‘Oh.’ His mother had that look that suggested he should be settling down.

  ‘You have a better chance of getting grandkids off Paul.’ Ripley smiled at his brother. Paul had just separated from his wife of two years.

  ‘Not in the near future.’ Paul’s voice was nice but his expression said thanks ass-wipe.

  ‘So you’re here for three weeks? Are you catching up with Dan?’

  ‘Yeah. His band has been doing good things.’ When he’d seen that the show was coming to Perth, Ripley had been thrilled, and not just because he’d get to see his family and friends, but also so he could thumb his nose at all the kids who’d accidentally tripped him while muttering fag. Or who picked a fight on the way to the bus stop. Ripley ran his tongue over the cap on his tooth. The chip now hidden. He hoped they recognised him and it ate them up.

  ‘I know, we still listen to the radio.’ His dad and Dan’s father had clashed on several occasions. While Ripley had always planned the trouble, Dan had funded it. Dan’s father was a little too starched and fancied himself above the blue-collar workers.

  His mother picked up a menu. ‘We’d better order since you are on the clock.’

  ‘Sorry. I didn’t want to wait until I had a free day.’ He didn’t want to be cutting lunch short, but he didn’t want to be late to the theatre either.

  His father lifted a hand. ‘Don’t apologise. It’s your job.’

  Ripley could almost hear Paul rolling his eyes. When Ripley had still been happy being called Jacob, Paul had accused him of doing ballet to grope girls. It was true; doing lifts his hands did end up in all kinds of intimate places, but no one was thinking about that. He was thinking about not dropping the woman or hurting himself. He was sure that the woman was thinking about not being dropped and getting good form.

  That said, it wasn’t all serious. It couldn’t be. Dancing was meant to be fun.

  Living was meant to be fun. He glanced at his father’s hands and the way the menu wobbled. They’d talk about that when time wasn’t an issue. Not today. Today was just about being together. When he was home he never wanted to leave. It wasn’t right that he got homesick while at home.

  His father put the menu down. ‘I don’t want lunch.’

  Ripley glanced at his mother, she gave him a tight smile. She’d warned him that being out was hard for his dad, but they were doing this for him. Next time he’d go to their house. ‘I’ll get the soup. Looks good, how about you, Dad?’

  He hated ordering soup when out, but it was the easiest thing for his father to eat now he had difficulty swallowing. He had definitely gotten worse since Ripley had last been home. The jerky movements were impossible to ignore, as was the slurred speech. He wanted to be able to pretend it wasn’t happening, which was much easier to do when he wasn’t at the table. His father agreed with a nod and Ripley relaxed a fraction.

  His brother ordered a steak sandwich, prick. Conversation was stilted as everyone tried to find a safe topic. There weren’t many.

  In the end, they talked about Ripley’s travels and life in America. Instead of letting silence form, Ripley chattered. Paul watched their father and stayed quiet. Something was up, but Ripley didn’t know what and he wasn’t sure he wanted to dig. Paul would probably just clam up. They hadn’t been on good terms for years and he hadn’t come home to make peace.

  It was a relief when the meal arrived, but not for long. His father concentrated on every mouthful. Sitting opposite him, Ripley had to wonder if he was looking at his own future. And he lost his appetite.

  Chapter 2

  Opening night was one part rush and what part what the hell is going to go wrong. Rehearsals didn’t guarantee anything. As long as the audience didn’t realise what was going wrong, that was all that mattered. Tomorrow they’d all get corrected before the next performance.

  He wasn’t on stage first, but while the curtains were down and the audience was taking their seats, pretty much every company member was running around on stage. If anyone had peeked behind there’d have been more than a few raised eyebrows.

  A few people went through steps. Others went in for more random madcap behaviour to shake out the nerves. Ripley definitely fell into the latter. He was grinning as he stalked across the stage to catch his on-stage love interest—who was sometimes a little prickly. Would she snap at him today?

  Cait spun and glared at him.

  Ooh. They would really be faking the chemistry tonight.

  The critics would be watching and taking notes for their reviews. They couldn’t fake it. He dropped to one knee and offered her his hand.

  She rolled her eyes took it and circled him. ‘Try not to grope my ass tonight.’

  ‘You have a lovely ass.’

  ‘You think all asses are lovely.’

  He laughed. That wasn’t true. ‘Jealous?’

  Her gaze dropped to groin. The dance belt did him no favours. She smirked.

  ‘You have no idea what lurks beneath.’ He lifted his eyebrows.

  ‘Dare you to forget it tomorrow for class.’

  As tempting as that dare was, the last thing he needed was his dick and balls swinging around and getting in the way. ‘How about I wear my tights with the holes … care to join me?’

  Her gaze flicked across to another male dancer who was straight but damn good fun when out on the town. ‘Maybe we could get everyone in on it.’

  ‘Ha.’ Ther
e were at least two people who wouldn’t even entertain the idea. He was about to offer a counter dare but they had to go and get their names checked again—you know, in case they’d got all dressed up and then changed their mind about performing and fucked off for the night.

  Cait stuck out her tongue. Well, at least she had thawed.

  Ten minutes to curtain. He did a few more stretches, eager to get on stage. His parents were watching. Dan and his new girlfriend were watching. All eyes would be on him. He drew in a breath.

  Yeah. This was what he lived for.

  ***

  Being on tour wasn’t the same as coming home for a holiday. He had to work every day. And days with matinees involved extra work. However Ripley had an evening off coming up. All he had to do was convince Dan to come out with him. It shouldn’t be that hard.

  And it wasn’t, but it was clear that while everything looked good for Dan on the surface, the reality was he was falling apart. In the end Ripley had decided not to get a big group together to go clubbing. In part because Dan hated groups, but also because Ripley wanted to let down his guard a little. With Dan he could do that.

  Dan would quite happily follow wherever he led.

  They sat in a noodle bar loading up with carbs and beer. Dan had spilled about his father’s latest stunt and how the cute redhead he’d been seeing had dropped him. That had to burn.

  ‘I still can’t believe you got done.’ The rock star getting a DUI was so clichéd. ‘Couldn’t you be more original?’

  Dan finished his beer. ‘Apparently not. Maybe I’m not original at all. I’m just another spoilt brat cut off from daddy’s money.’

  Ripley shook his head. ‘Now you sound like Lisa.’ Lisa with the poisonous tongue who had sunk her claws into Dan and then tried to get him to quit the band. How Dan had dated her for three years he had no idea.

  ‘And the insults keep rolling.’

  He’d never seen Dan so down. Ever. It was scary to see because Dan was the sensible one. He knew when it was time to bail before they got busted. He knew when they’d pushed too far. Dan was the one who had stood up for him, who had always been there no matter what the kids at school had been saying.