What to Read After FSOG: The Gemstone Collection (WTRAFSOG Book 4)

by Selena Kitt

  “Riley.”

  Now she was Riley. Margaret was gone. Riley had hidden her away with a name change taken from her parents’ middle names, a bottle of hair dye, and a move to a new state.

  She paused, studying him. Tonight he wore a pair of black pants and matching blazer and dark blue button down. As always, he fit his situation perfectly. She acquiesced and put her hand in his.

  “I made reservations at this restaurant and asked for an ocean view.” He helped her up and laced his fingers in hers.

  Her heart fell, landing in the center of her stomach. She could only hope the poor organ would save itself before it drowned in a pool of acid. Flowers, a planned date, dinner on the beach, holding hands, this was Margaret’s fantasy.

  Once more she tried to remind herself she was Riley now, but underneath the little black dress, the toned down makeup, and the designer purse, Margaret remained. She glanced at their hands together and caught sight of her own bracelet. A rose gold bangle in the shape of a nail encircled her wrist. Her dream and Margaret’s were one and the same, because in the end, they were the same.

  “Shall we?” He stepped forward.

  She stumbled on nothing and reached for the nearest thing, Mike.

  He caught her. “Careful.” He wrapped an arm around her waist.

  She swallowed.

  He straightened her wrap for her. “After dinner we’ll take a walk. There’s a little place down the boardwalk that I hear has amazing desserts.”

  “For someone from Texas, you certainly know a lot about Malibu.” She tried to inhale, but he continued to gaze at her. He also never said anything about what happened after dessert. No doubt, he would want a little extra treat.

  “I did a bit of research before I picked you up.” He kept his arm around her and went toward the restaurant. “I told you I would take care of everything.”

  Mike wanted Riley. She managed a breath, asking herself if she didn’t have this history if she would have gone out with him in the first place.

  “Maybe we could take our walk first.” There wasn’t enough room for her heart and food in her stomach.

  He paused. “We have some time before our reservations.” Rather than leading her to the restaurant, they headed toward the short pier.

  The echoes of their coordinated footsteps changed as they walked from asphalt to wood planks, and he held her tighter on the uneven surface.

  He stopped them at the end and motioned toward the ocean. “No where I’ve ever lived had anything like this.”

  She fought the urge to tell him they had the lake in Chicago, but it wasn’t the same. She needed to try to have a blank slate and turned toward the water. The sun was starting to set and streaks of orange and grey seemed painted across the sky. If a man she didn’t know took her on this date, she would be stunned. She tried to calm down, match her breathing to the waves. “It is incredible.”

  “It is incredible to be here and not be working. I can’t remember the last time I just stood somewhere.” He rubbed his hand up and down her back.

  She couldn’t remember the last time a man gave her a simple touch and it caused her entire body to tingle. “You seem a lot calmer than yesterday.”

  “I’d just landed and my schedule kept changing, and I came to lunch expecting to find some old man to chew the fat with.” He let out a low chuckle.

  “I guess I wasn’t what you expected.” Clean slate or not, it was the story of her life.

  “I would have rather it have been you.” His hand traveled up to her shoulder. “I didn’t want to take some old man for an evening out.”

  “So any woman would have fit your needs?” She managed to get the question out without it sounding like she said through clenched teeth.

  “Not many women fit my needs.” He didn’t face her.

  “I’m not going to be your easy lay in California.” She may have let him take over the planning of this date, but she would make the rules. Maybe she was trying to convince herself.

  He glanced over at her, a mere tilt of his head. “Anyone who ever did anything easily wasn’t trying hard enough.”

  She turned to him, but he stared back out at the ocean. With a man like Mike Taylor she could forget everything but him. He would take care of it all if the world allowed it. She remembered thinking of him as a place to land until one day he took away the safety net.

  If she wiped the past away, she was left with a man who oozed confidence and sexiness. She could only try to forget their history, and remember not to trust anyone to be a landing pad.

  “I like how the sun seems as if it is being absorbed by the water as it sets.”

  His statement redirected her attention to the landscape. She pressed her lips together. It wasn’t fair to put her issues on Mike unless she wanted to even out the playing field and let him in on the secret. She grabbed the wood railing willing herself to let go. She couldn’t go out with a memory.

  “When did you start writing?” He interrupted her thoughts.

  “I don’t remember when I didn’t write.” She watched the water, took a breath and zoned into the conversation.

  “What do you write besides articles for the magazine?” He reached up and played with her hair.

  She waited until the shivers he created dissipated enough to answer. “Just some items for me. My writing doesn’t really fit a genre, it’s just my musings.” The wind picked up and she received the full force of his cologne without the flowers to dilute his scent. “Do you write?”

  “No.” His voice became low. “I get hung up on rules and technicalities and the words won’t leave my fingers.”

  “I never care about the rules. I let everything out and it never fits anywhere.” She shut her eyes, not wanting to tell him she knew he wanted to write. “Maybe sometimes you need to follow the rules.” He taught her that rule.

  “Or let someone else make them.” His fingers grazed her neck.

  She turned to find him already facing her.

  Without a word he dipped his head down.

  Way back in the times when she allowed her mind to imagine kissing Mike Taylor, she pictured the crushing of mouths, unruly tongues, and lots of hands. A rough, unfinished art project. That was her inner teenager.

  The adult received something much more magical and refined than a sloppy French kiss in the back seat of a car.

  He brought his hand down to her waist and brushed his lips against hers. Soft strokes of their tongues together created vivid colors behind her eyelids, causing her to wrap her arms around him and hold on.

  He pulled back. “Hold on, I need to try a little harder.”

  She opened her eyes, but before she could focus, they both came together again.

  This kiss was more intense, laced with longing and lust. Like their conversations, an interplay that had them feeding off each other.

  While he deepened the kiss, she took her opportunity to suck his tongue, sample his savory sweetness that roused her taste buds, leaving her hungry for more.

  He moaned and nibbled down her neck.

  Her body heated, moistening with a need she long ago forgot she possessed, made even more voracious when he pressed his body to hers allowing her to feel his blatant desire for her.

  She combed her fingers through his hair as he slid her wrap down and gave her shoulder an open mouthed kiss.

  “Oh.” She arched toward him. The move was unexpected and one of a true man.

  He lifted his head and stared into her eyes.

  Once again she found herself studying his face. Familiar, but different, he was a man now. A man she wanted. They always had this strange connection, and somehow it survived.

  “Am I doing better or was it too easy?” He ran his thumb along her bottom lip.

  She returned the favor and wiped her lipstick off his mouth. In those few minutes she forgot their past, forgot Mike Taylor in high school, and focused on Mike Taylor the man. “I would actually say it was very hard.”

 
He reached down, cupped her ass and rolled his hips toward hers. “Do you need to make sure?”

  “I think I understand. Nothing is soft…I mean easy.” Damn, if she wasn’t drenched.

  “Oh, you do listen. I like that quality in a woman.” He gave her a light kiss and took her hand. “Now I will take you to dinner.”

  She let him lead her away, admitting at last that if she met Mike with the same benefit of no past, she would have gone out with him anyway. He fit the personification of what she was looking for, a place to land. Something led her to him, no matter if she was Margaret or Riley. “What will I do?”

  “You will let me take the lead.” They walked toward the restaurant.

  That was precisely what she feared. She didn’t make it too easy. He did.

  Chapter Four

  Mike never tutored her in chemistry. She supposed it was because she followed the instructions in that class or she may blow herself up. One thing was certain. She did not need any help now.

  “Take a bite.” Mike held up a spoon containing a sampling of chocolate covered coconut cake with raspberry sauce.

  They sat together at tiny table outside the small café where they were presented with several small dessert selections, including chocolate mousse and a custard dish, but both their eyes went to the sinful cake first.

  Their dinner was incredible, but not for the food. She barely remembered eating, but she savored the way Mike ordered for her, how he chose the ideal wine to compliment the meal, and how he continued to stare at her as if nothing else existed.

  “It’s dripping.” She shook her head.

  “Then it’s perfect.” He lifted the spoon higher.

  She decided not to mention anything else dripping. She was ready to drown. Instead, she lapped up some of the sauce with her finger.

  She went to put her finger between her lips, when he dropped the spoon and caught her wrist.

  “I believe I would like the first taste.” He brought her hand to his mouth and sucked the sauce off her.

  He swirled his tongue along her fingertip. If he was trying to show her exactly what he could do to another part of her body, it worked.

  “Delectable.” He licked his lips. “But I believe I need something more.” He leaned forward and kissed her.

  This kiss was different than the one on the pier. They already skipped over awkward, unsure connections and were now at tantalizing tastes. The type of kissing usually meant as a precursor to other, more satisfying, activities.

  He opened his mouth giving her a sampling of the decadent dessert mixed with him.

  No, dripping wasn’t the word to describe her. If he were any other man, she would have already had them back in bed letting him properly attend to her needs. She squeezed her thighs together in an attempt to relieve some of the pressure.

  He placed his hand on her leg. “You seem a little tense.”

  She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye, tightening and relaxing the muscles in her leg. “I’m just in good shape.”

  “So I feel.” He inched his hand up, his fingertips sneaking under the hem of her dress.

  She glanced around the patio. Two women at another table looked over at them and whispered together, sending an electric jolt through her.

  “We’re being watched.”

  The moment he went to move his hand away, she clenched her muscle again.

  “You don’t mind?” He kept his hand in place, spreading his fingers out.

  She shook her head and put her hand on his leg.

  “You’re a bad girl.” He moved his hand along the contour of her thigh, slipping his fingers between her legs right above her knee.

  “What makes you say that?” She opened her legs the smallest amount and traced a little abstract pattern on his leg.

  He glanced at the peeping women and back to her. “Because I think you enjoy torturing me.”

  “What’s the torture?” She ran her nail up the crease of his pants.

  “If you move your hand up any further you’re going to find out.”

  “Is it torture because you don’t want people to watch?” She turned behind her then back to him. “Or is it torture because you know I’m not going to be the one relieving you tonight?”

  He stared into her eyes. “Maybe its torture because I wasn’t even going to try anything more than this.” Once more he moved forward.

  She closed her eyes in anticipation of his kiss. Yes, he was testament as to what chemistry could do. She needed to make sure she didn’t spontaneously combust.

  “I am glad you gave my suggestion a try.” An unfamiliar male voice boomed into their space.

  She opened her eyes to find a rotund, older man at their table with a matching woman, by his side.

  “Carl.” Mike untangled himself from her and got up, standing close to the table.

  “Mike.” He extended his hand. “This is my wife, Karen.”

  “Karen.” Mike nodded.

  The woman smiled.

  Riley continued to sit. The fire in her core cooled while her cheeks became hot. Mike wasn’t even going to acknowledge her. She had been in this seat before. Funny, how after fifteen years, her body could still conjure the same sinking sensation in her stomach, break out in sweat the same way, her heart stopping exactly as it did that day.

  He said it himself. She was a bad girl. No matter what costume she put on, her true self came through. She couldn’t hide it, couldn’t pretend their past didn’t matter.

  She didn’t know what action to take. Did she stand and introduce herself? Did she do nothing?

  She chose staring off into space. Last time, she did the same thing, only last time they were teenagers and she heard the whole school laughing when she walked away. Karen, the wife who got to be introduced, glanced at her. The woman may as well have laughed. This was a joke.

  Mike wiped his chin. “Excuse me, I didn’t expect to see you here.”

  “I gathered.” The man also looked at her.

  She continued to look at nothing. The moment they were gone, this evening was over. At least now she knew nothing would have ever happened. She inhaled. Chemistry wasn’t everything, a lesson she apparently needed to learn twice.

  The silence reverberated around the table. She forced herself to stay still.

  Mike cleared his throat, grabbed her wrist and yanked her up.

  The unexpected action caused her to lose her footing.

  Like earlier, he caught her, pulled her to him and straightened her wrap. “Carl, may I introduce Riley Williams?”

  Everyone collectively nodded, the need for verbal introductions gone. No telling of jobs or small talk. The moon shone down on them, but it was more of a spotlight on this moment in time.

  “I told my wife you may be here.” Carl shattered the silence. “I’ve been thinking a lot about your proposal.”

  Mike swallowed. She watched his Adam’s apple travel up and down his neck twice. “I am not prepared to talk business.”

  The wife glared at her.

  “Yes.” Carl smiled as if he were in on the joke. “Why don’t we meet for cocktails tomorrow. We can all go.”

  “We would love to.” Mike shook the man’s hand again. “Thank you, as I said you caught me off guard.”

  “I’m going to get some of that coconut cake.” Carl patted Mike on the shoulder. “Until tomorrow.”

  They walked into the café, and Mike resumed his seat, taking her with him. “I apologize for that.”

  She wanted to ask him what he was apologizing for, but she wouldn’t get a real answer.

  “I hate interruptions and surprises, especially when I’m trying to focus.” He faced her. “But this did have one positive outcome.”

  She opened her purse in search of her lipstick, needing to take some action. She could be seventeen or thirty-two, and her backbone ran away anytime Mike Taylor was near.

  He put his hand over her bag and leaned down into her line of sight. “Carl did me the fa
vor of making sure we are together tomorrow night, though I had already planned on it myself.”

  At the same time, she found both her lipstick and her spine. “I’m not going anywhere with you tomorrow.” She pulled the cap off the tube and stood up. Chemistry or not, the experiment played out. The reaction over.

  Chapter Five

  Mike slammed the door to his rental car and slammed his head into the back of the seat. This was precisely why he kept women at a distance. He should have turned the Carl meeting into a business opportunity to get his funding. Instead, he stood in front of Carl speaking jumbled gibberish, as he tried to get rid of the man he needed before he said too much in front of Riley.

  With no more fondling and teasing for the rest of their time together, Riley showed she was not only a bad girl, but a tough one. She didn’t speak on the way back to her apartment. When he pulled up to the curb, he almost fell out of the car trying to beat her to the door. He took her hand, trying to recapture anything, but she used her flowers as a shield, thanked him for the evening, and disappeared.

  He never even got to tell her to search the blooms for the little something he stashed there. While he hated surprises, women loved them. At least most women did. Over the years, the move was received with mixed results.

  He didn’t need his master’s degree to tell him to leave it, walk away. She probably tossed the flowers the second she entered her home.

  He pounded his fist on the steering wheel. The image of her hand on his leg edging toward his hard-on, the conversation laced with double meanings, and the memory of her tongue on his, caused his erection to creep to life again.

  Blue balls were something he hadn’t experienced since high school, and it wasn’t something he needed to relive. He had been hard for the better part of the night. His need had never been this intense.

  Something about her made him want to read a book with her, cradle her in his arms, and then ram his aching body into hers. He had to get this back.

  As if beyond his control, his cock returned to the same state as before the intrusion. “Damn it.” He hated resorting to jacking off when the woman he wanted was no less than one hundred yards away from him.