Camera Shy

by Lauren Gallagher

  Whatever this was she had going with Jason, she needed to figure it out. She needed to be honest with herself about him. Then she needed to be honest about him to Cecily. She owed her daughter that much.

  And for heaven's sake, she needed to be honest with Jason before his patience ran out.

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Jason was almost asleep when a shrill bleating pierced the stillness. He flinched at the sound, muttered a slurred expletive, and closed his eyes, but then he heard it again.

  Swimming back into consciousness, he realized it was the phone beside the bed. He felt around on the nightstand for it, found it just as he woke up enough to wonder if he should be annoyed or worried that someone was calling this late. He rubbed his eyes with one hand as he said, "'Ello?"

  "Jason, it's Allyson."

  Her voice instantly brought him back to reality. "Allyson? What's—?" He looked at the clock. It was a little past eleven. "What's wrong?"

  "Nothing," she said, her voice hushed. "Nothing's wrong, I just . . . I wanted to talk to you." She paused. "Did I wake you up?"

  Jason sat up in bed, running a hand through his hair. He wanted to be annoyed that she'd called so late, but the only thing he felt was relief. "It's okay. Don't worry about it. Is everything okay?"

  Simone ran her hand through her hair. Hugging her knees to her chest, she said,

  "Maybe it's silly, calling this late. I just needed to talk to you again after . . . after earlier." He took a breath. "About?"

  "I'm not, I don't know," she said. "Us, I guess."

  "Anything in particular?"

  Her heart thundered so badly she could barely hear him. "Not really. I—" She swallowed. "I didn't want you to think I was blowing you off." He was silent for a moment. "Babe, if you have an emergency—"

  "I know, but, you know, I didn't want you to think it was just some lame excuse not to come see you." God only knows I've used it before. "I do want to come see you. The sooner the better, actually."

  A breath of laughter. He still sounded tense, but that smile was there. "That feeling's mutual," he said. Pause. "When do you think, do you . . . ?" She rubbed her eyes. "Hopefully I'll know something in the next few days. Believe me, when I do, you'll be the first to know."

  "I'll be waiting to hear from you."

  She smiled. "I just, I wish I could be there right now."

  "I wish you could be here, too." He paused. "I guess it's par for the course with long distance—" Beat. "When we're this far apart." A long distance relationship. Of course. Except this isn't a relationship. This is a fling. A damned fling. And the Nile isn't just a river in Egypt.

  "I guess it is par for the course, isn't it?" she whispered.

  "I suppose there's always the next best thing." There was just a hint of mischievous humor in his voice.

  "Oh? And what's that?"

  It sounded like he was moving. Lying back on the bed, perhaps. "What are you wearing?"

  "I—what?"

  "I want to know what you're wearing."

  "Jason, you—" She paused.

  "Try it, you might like it." He laughed softly. That grin, Jesus, she could almost see it.

  She hugged her knees tighter to her chest. "I've never . . . ." Yeah, right.

  "If I can't be there to make you come," he said, his voice dropping to that low, whispering growl that always made her weak in the knees. "I can still hear you come." Her spine stiffened. Though she'd tried this before with other lovers, it had always made her feel stupid. Nervous. But the desire in Jason's voice ignited an entirely different feeling in her. She thumbed the edge of the comforter. "I don't even know where to start."

  "Start by telling me what you're wearing."

  "You first."

  He laughed softly. "Same thing I always wear to bed." Her breath caught. Immediately she thought of his naked body up against hers when they slept, and a shiver ran through her so violently her teeth chattered.

  "Your turn," he said.

  She looking down almost self-consciously at the simple nightgown she wore.

  "Just, just a nightgown."

  "What color?"

  "Blue."

  "You look sexy in blue," he said. "But you look better without a damned thing on. Take it off."

  "Take it—right now?"

  That soft laugh again, but there was an edge to it, a tightness in his voice as if he was hiding how wound up he was already.

  She grinned. "Jason, am I turning you on?"

  He exhaled. "Just thinking about you turns me on, babe." Her insecurities dimmed. "Tell me more."

  "Do you still have that nightgown on?"

  "I do," she said. "And it stays on until you tell me what you think about that gets you so turned on."

  The catch in his breath was faint, a sound she would barely have heard even in his presence. "Taking over, are we?"

  "Are you objecting?"

  "Not in the least."

  She wetted her lips. Keeping her voice low, she said, "So tell me, Jason, what do you think about when you're getting turned on?"

  "I think about the sweet taste of your pussy," he growled, the uncharacteristic crudeness both startling and arousing Simone. He went on. "And the way you squeeze my fingers when you're about to come. Jesus, you don't know what that does to me." Finding her breath, she whispered, "Tell me more."

  "When my fingers are inside of you," he said, his voice unsteady. "When I'm fucking you with my hand and licking your clit, and my cock is aching to be inside you, fuck . . . ."

  Simone squeezed her thighs together, biting her lip as a pulsing wave rippled through her. She started to speak, but he beat her to it, whispering, "My cock's aching to fuck your tight, wet pussy right now."

  She whimpered softly. He may as well have been speaking right to her clit, with the way her body reacted to his voice.

  She could barely speak. "Tell me—tell me more."

  "I'm so turned on right now," his voice was barely audible. A sharp hiss of breath made Simone's mouth water. What she wouldn't have given to feel that breath on her neck right then. "I don't think I'd last a minute inside your . . . ." A breath. "Inside . . . ." He cursed under his breath. "I wouldn't last a minute inside your sweet fucking cunt." A violent tremor ran through her and she couldn't help whimpering. He wasn't being crude for the sake of being crude, he wasn't going for shock value, he was just too

  far gone to mince words. Moaning softly, she whispered, "Oh my God, Jason, I need you . . . ."

  He gasped, then, "Oh God, oh God, I'm—" The tension in his voice made Simone's entire body tremble, as if Jason was right there, slamming his cock into her just before his orgasm overtook him.

  Another sharp breath. " Fuck, I'm coming . . . ." He groaned, almost whimpered, and exhaled.

  Simone couldn't speak. Couldn't think of anything to say. Couldn't make her mouth work. All she could think of was the maddening ache inside her that demanded attention, that demanded his attention.

  He was silent for a moment, catching his breath. Then he said, "Now it's your turn."

  "This isn't going to make the next few days any easier," she said, biting her lip.

  "No, it won't," he said, laughing softly. "But it's all we've got right now." She released a frustrated whimper. "Jesus, I need you so badly right now, Jason."

  "Tell me more . . . ."

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Three days after her scare, Jessica came home from the hospital, rattled but all right. Cecily watched out the window for Gregory's headlights, and squealed with delight as her father pulled in Simone's driveway.

  After father and daughter were reunited, Simone sent Cecily upstairs to get her things. She turned to her ex-husband. "How is Jessica doing?" Gregory pursed his lips. "She'll be okay."

  "And the baby?"

  "The baby's fine."

  "Good."

  The silence hung between them for a long moment. "Thank you for taking her on such short notice."

  "She's my
daughter too."

  "I know." Gregory offered a gentle smile, one that seemed to say, you're finally acting like it.

  Simone rubbed her forehead. "I'm going to go back up to Canada this week. Hopefully."

  Gregory raised an eyebrow. "I hope our little event didn't inconvenience you." Simone glared at him. "Give me a little credit, Gregory. I'm not God's gift to parenting, but I'm trying."

  His expression softened. "I know, I'm sorry." He paused. "Whatever it is you're doing up there, you're not getting yourself into—"

  "Gregory, please. I'm getting myself together, I promise." She shrugged. "I'm not even drinking anymore, so I must be doing something right." Gregory blinked. "You're not—you're not drinking? At all?" Simone shook her head.

  "You're not pregnant, are you?"

  Simone threw her hands up. "Jesus, no!" She looked at him, hurt. "Is it so hard for anyone to believe that I can at least try to get myself back on track?" Her voice cracked.

  "I'm sorry, Simone," he said. "You're right. I should have more faith in you. I do have faith in you. And I'm proud of you." He smiled. "I think you really are on a better track now."

  Tears stung her eyes. "Thank you," she whispered. He took her into his arms and hugged her.

  "I know you'll get yourself together," he said, patting her back gently before he released her. "Does Cecily know about your new man yet?" Simone shook her head. "Not yet. But I—as soon as I know what's going on, I'm going to talk to her about it."

  "You said that weeks ago."

  "I still don't know. Gregory, for once, I'm trying not to rush things." He sighed. "I understand. Just . . . . Just don't wait too long."

  "I won't."

  A moment later, Cecily came back into the room, and Simone said her goodbyes to her daughter and ex-husband.

  She chewed her lip as she watched them pull out of the driveway. She hadn't been lying; she really was trying to get herself together. But she needed to stop the lying. She owed everyone—Cecily, Jason, Gregory, Anne-Marie—the truth. She swallowed the guilt and promised herself she would figure out what was going on with Jason, and when she did, she was going to be honest with him. With everyone.

  Simone grabbed her phone and called Jason.

  "Jason, it's Allyson."

  "Allyson . . . ." Was that a sigh of relief? "It's good to hear your voice."

  "Look, I'm sorry about what happened. I'm free again, for a while, and I'd love to come see you."

  "Absolutely." He paused. She bit her lip. Was he thinking? Hesitating? She couldn't tell. Finally, he spoke. "I'll be out of town this weekend, though. But I'll be back Sunday night."

  Relief swept over her. "Why don't I come up Monday morning then?"

  "I'll look forward to it."

  "As will I."

  "One question, though, before I let you go."

  Simone took a breath. "I'm listening."

  He was silent for a moment, but it sounded like he was moving. Sitting down, maybe. Finally, he said, "What are you wearing?"

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Simone drummed her fingers anxiously on the table. Amidst the butterflies, a strong feeling of dread twisted within her, but it wasn't her upcoming visit to Jason that unsettled her.

  She sat in Bernelli's, glancing at her watch, waiting for Carolyn, wondering for the hundredth time why she did this to herself.

  Right on schedule—twenty minutes late—Carolyn walked in. "Sorry I'm late," Carolyn said, flopping down on the other side of the booth.

  No you aren't. "No problem," Simone said through a forced smile. After they had looked at the menu and ordered, Carolyn looked at her. "So I've seen your face in the tabloids again recently."

  "What else is new?"

  "They think there's a new man in your life." The bitter pout in Carolyn's voice grated on Simone's nerves. "Isn't that exactly what I said? So now I want to know: who is he?"

  Simone absently swirled her straw in her Coke. "'He' isn't. There's no one." Carolyn raised a penciled-on eyebrow and cocked her head. "Bullshit."

  "I've told you, I'm just trying to get some things straightened out in my life. I've got a lot going on—"

  "Oh yes," Carolyn said melodramatically, putting the back of her hand against her forehead. "The woes of the movie star."

  Oh good lord, Carolyn, please don't start. Not today. "I'm serious," Simone said. She shrugged. "I may have been the last one in the world to figure it out, but that doesn't mean I had to find a man to do so." Okay, so it did, but you don't need to know that.

  "But you have found a man."

  "Is it so hard to imagine I could get my life straightened out without hanging on a man's arm?"

  "For you, yes."

  "Thanks, glad to know you have such faith in me." Okay, you're right. I'm useless. I'm an idiot. I can't fix my own life without a man in the picture. And speaking of pictures . . . .

  Her mind wandered back to the photo shoot on the island, and the passionate sex that had followed, and—

  "Simone?"

  "Huh? Sorry."

  Carolyn raised an eyebrow. "Are you sure you're okay?"

  "Yeah, I'm fine. I'm—" Simone cleared her throat and took a drink. "Sorry. I haven't slept much the last few days." And I doubt I'll be sleeping much over the next few days. Christ, tomorrow can't get here soon enough.

  Carolyn watched her for a moment, her expression somewhere between puzzled and suspicion. After a moment, her demeanor softened. She lowered her voice.

  "Honestly, Simone." She took a breath and looked away. "I know things haven't always been great between us, but . . . I want us to be like sisters again." Simone kept her guard up. "As do I."

  "Then why won't you talk to me?"

  "Because we haven't been like sisters for years."

  "You don't trust me." It wasn't a question.

  Why should I trust you, you backstabbing bitch? Simone shrugged. "After everything with Dan's band, I—"

  "That was a long time ago," Carolyn said, dropping her gaze and playing with the edge of the wine list. "A very long time ago." She raised an accusing eyebrow and looked up at Simone. "We've both made more than our fair share of mistakes since then."

  Touché. "And you probably don't trust me all that much either, do you?" Carolyn sighed. "I do. I really do." She wrung her hands on the table. "I want us to move forward, Simone. A fresh start, a clean slate."

  Simone played with the edge of her napkin, avoiding her sister's eyes. She wanted to believe Carolyn. It had been so long, and she missed her sister. "I know. I want to too."

  Carolyn clasped her fingers together, her thumbnail absently running up and down her index finger. "I'm worried about you, Simone." She paused. "You've been right about me; I was jealous that you've done so well while I fell on my face."

  "You didn't fall on your face."

  Carolyn huffed. "Yeah, I did. But that was my fault, not yours." She wrung her fingers. "I should never have blamed it on you, or taken it out on you. I see now that you have problems in your life, just like everyone else." She took a breath. "I just want to know what's going on, because I'm worried about you."

  Simone watched her, cautious and uncertain. "Just, you know, a lot of pressure at work. Problems with Gregory. I'd been drinking too much." She exhaled sharply.

  "Drinking way too much." She shook her head. "I just, I needed to get away."

  "But what about this mystery man?"

  Simone laughed and rolled her eyes. "Mystery man. Everyone's so certain there is someone, and no one's even seen him or heard his name." Unless they've been within a mile or two of his house. Then I guarantee they've heard his name over, and over, and over.

  "So there is someone?" Carolyn smiled. "You're blushing, so don't even try to tell me there's no one. I can read you like a book, woman."

  Simone ran a hand through her hair and laughed. "Okay. I'll tell you." Her voice hardened. "But you have to promise you won't tell anyone." Carolyn grinned and held up her hooked pinky f
inger. "Pinky swear." Simone laughed and hooked her own finger around Carolyn's. A giggle passed between them and for the first time in years, she actually felt like she was talking to her sister. "Okay, there is someone . . . ."

  "Tell me about him." The giddiness in Carolyn's voice did nothing to calm the butterflies in Simone's stomach.

  "He's incredible," she gushed. "A photographer, I met him up in Canada. Oh my God, Carolyn . . . ." She didn't even know where to start. She certainly wasn't going to tell him about the amazing things Jason did to her body. Opening up to her sister was one thing; there were some things a sister just didn't need to know.

  "Come on, tell me," Carolyn practically squealed with delight.

  "We met on a beach," Simone said. "We just, I don't know, ran into each other."

  "Sex on the beach?"

  Simone scoffed. "My God, Carolyn, I said I met him on the beach, I didn't say I ripped his clothes off and did him right there on the beach." Oh, but when we were on the dock, I was half a heartbeat away from—stop it, Simone . . . . She barely kept herself from visibly shivering.

  "So when did you do him?"

  As soon as I damn well could and every chance I've had thereafter. " That is none of your business."

  "And?"

  "What?"

  "How was it?"

  Simone laughed. Incredible. Unbelievable. So breathtakingly perfect that it's almost driven me to tears.

  Carolyn grinned at her over the rim of her glass. "That good, huh?" From the heat in her cheeks, she guessed her face was about as red Carolyn's wine. Simone picked up her water. She would probably need a cold shower in a minute or two. "A girl doesn't kiss and tell."

  Carolyn gave her a mock pout. "Not even to her sister?"

  "Not even to her sister." Because I don't think I could put it into words, Carolyn, he's just that amazing.