"Are you okay?” Alex asked.
She nodded. “This might sound silly, but ... I feel him. It's almost as if his spirit ... that he still lives here."
"You mean Elvis?"
Casey nodded again, not trusting her voice to speak. Breaking down like a babbling idiot in front of Alex and dozens of other people wasn't her idea of starting the day out on the fun note she'd planned.
"I think you're more of an Elvis fan then you realize, Casey,” he said with a light chuckle. Looking at her with his brown eyes full of understanding, he brushed a lock of hair that had escaped her pony tail from her cheek. “I know what you mean, though,” he said softly. “I feel him, too."
Casey's breath hitched at the unexpected touch of Alex's fingers against her skin. Slowly, he rubbed the strands between his fingers, hypnotizing her. A tingle of awareness and anticipation raced down her spine. Desire for more than a simple touch from Alex hit her straight on.
She wanted more. Much, much more.
A group of older women exited the house, and their zealous chatter about how Elvis the Pelvis had once made their hearts flutter forced Casey back to reality. Her cheeks warmed and she took a quick step back, breaking the delicious contact with Alex. She focused her gaze on the other tourists, and forced her mind back on Elvis and away from Alex.
"When I was a kid I listened to Elvis’ records all the time,” she said. “It's been years since I've really paid much attention to him or his legacy. Now, it's as if all those memories I thought I'd forgotten are rushing back. God, I must be running a temperature or something.” She laughed and took a deep breath, knowing in truth her sudden lack of oxygen had nothing to do with her memories of Elvis, but with sharing them with the man standing mere inches from her.
"It's nostalgia, maybe. Or a yearning for what might have been,” he said with a hard edge, a muscle tightened in his jaw.
Casey pondered his words, wondering what Alex yearned for. He said no more, and turned his attention to the house itself, no doubt studying every architectural line.
The house loomed before them and in spite of the bustle of activity around the grounds, the structure seemed sad and lonely. Casey's gaze was drawn to a second story window. She saw no one there, but she sensed a presence and goose bumps popped out on skin.
Good grief. What was the matter with her? She wasn't normally one for nostalgia, and she really didn't believe in ghosts, either. Had this whirlwind trip with the sexy architect thrown her into an emotional tailspin? Rubbing her hands up and down her arms, she tried to banish the goose bumps.
"Are you sure you're all right?” he asked.
"Don't you feel it? It's like he's watching us from behind those curtains up there."
"Stop. You're gettin’ spooky,” Alex chuckled, dismissing her apprehensions. “So, what do you think of the house itself? Do you think we can glean some ideas from it?"
Casey took a deep breath. Bless the man for whisking her back to business. Business was safe.
"It's much smaller than I expected. In the photographs it looks huge and sprawling."
"The power of photography. Speaking of which, do you think you got some good shots?"
"I hope so. We'll find out when I get the film developed. How did you do with taking notes?"
"Not the best. I got kind of caught up in checking out every detail.” Alex gazed at her, his face full of silent suggestions. At least she thought his hooded eyes and the smile tugging at his lips constituted suggestions of a more sexual nature, or it could be just the bright sun blinding her from reality.
"I've got a good memory,” he added. “I figure we can work on making more detailed notes later, while everything is still fresh in our minds."
"Fresh in our minds,” she said absently. The only thing that was on Casey's mind at the moment was the idea of getting fresh with Alex.
"This place has a profound effect on a person,” he said. “More than even I anticipated. I don't think there's much danger of forgetting the experience any time soon."
Graceland wasn't the only thing having a profound effect on Casey. And she realized right then and there that no matter where things went, or didn't, between her and Alex, he and Graceland would be forever linked.
She'd never listen to an Elvis song the same way again.
Chapter Nine
"Ready to move on?” Alex asked, nodding toward the back of the Graceland estate. “There's still a lot to see. I want to make sure we get your money's worth out of those VIP tickets."
"Even if we don't take another step, I feel like I've gotten a full bang for my buck,” Casey said with a hint of sass in her voice.
Alex grinned and they headed for the business office where Elvis’ father had helped run his illustrious son's career. Though dated in the seventies era, the office looked as if it was still very much in use, and concert bookings and movie deals continued to happen on a daily basis.
They walked past the small nook where Elvis and his friends used to target shoot, and then moved onto the racquetball building where Elvis had played in the wee hours of the morning the day he died. Knowing that he'd spent some of his final hours here made Casey's heart clinch.
Stopping by the kidney-shaped swimming pool, Casey knelt down and focused the lens of her camera. A tantalizing fantasy filled the frame as she shot picture after picture.
The image transformed to one of still water aglow with moonlight on a warm summer's night. Alex, his bare skin glistening with droplets of water, wore a sultry smile and nothing else.
In her fantasy Casey joined him in the pool and their arms quickly became entangled. His unique, spicy scent encompassed her senses. Their fingers probed. His smooth skin rippled with muscles and filled her hands. Their hungry lips craved, searched. Tongues danced, nipped, tasted. The two of them came together, body to body, under the watchful gaze of the Tennessee stars.
Oh, sweet Heaven. Oh, sweet, sweet, Heaven. Take me now, Alex. Please, I beg of you.
"Casey?"
The sound of her name flickered dimly in the back of her brain. She pushed it aside, not willing to let the fantasy end. Not yet. Not ever. Alex was about to—
There was a tug at her shoulder.
Yes.
"Casey.” Alex's voice registered from above, startling her back to the present. “Are you sure you're all right?"
Daylight. Crap. There was daylight. Oh, God. She hoped she hadn't been moaning, and who knew what else, out here for the world to see.
"Uh, sure. I'm fine.” She rose and her legs protested, threatening to drop her flat on her butt.
"Whoa.” Alex grabbed her arm, steadying her. “You seemed ... distracted. Did you see Elvis’ ghost or something?” he teased.
Casey laughed, relieved, and a little disappointed, he hadn't guessed her true thoughts. “Would you think I was crazy if I said yes?"
Alex's forehead furrowed and he scratched his head. “I refuse to answer that question on the grounds it might incriminate me."
"Chicken.” Casey gave his shoulder a good-natured slug. “You know, Heather believes in ghosts,” she said softly, walking toward the trophy building. This seemed like as good a time as any to break that piece of quirky news to Alex. “She thinks her house might be haunted."
"You can't be serious.” He snatched her arm in a gentle grip, stopping her. His eyes were filled with a mixture of frustration and disbelief, and his mouth tensed into a thin line.
Okay, maybe she'd been wrong. Maybe this wasn't a good time.
"Well...” Casey held up her hands and shrugged.
"You are serious,” he said, his voice hard.
"Let me put it this way. Heather has a fascination with the metaphysical. That's all."
"That's all? You're just full of surprises on this job, aren't you?” He planted his hands on his lean hips and shifted his weight to his left foot. Boy, she hated it when he did that. He always looked so rebellious, so damn sexy. And she always got this hot-n-bothered urge to rip his
flannel shirt from his body and throw herself at him.
"It's no big deal, Alex.” She crossed her arms in an attempt to keep her hands from grabbing him. She really needed more willpower, but every minute she spent in his company, her strictly business mantra crumbled a fraction more. At the rate she was going, she'd be in serious trouble by the time they flew home tomorrow.
"No big deal?” He threw her a sharp sideways glance.
"Why should it be? So what if she is open to ... to possibilities outside of normal ways of thinking. As long as she signs the checks, it won't affect us and what we've been hired to do."
"Are you sure about that?"
"Well, why would it?"
A small group of Japanese tourists approached, eyeing Alex and Casey with curiosity. Casey stepped aside to allow them to pass. They smiled and chatted in their native tongue and since Casey didn't speak a lick of Japanese she didn't know if they thought she and Alex were having a lover's spat, or if they were simply commenting on the balmy October weather. The group mingled nearby, taking pictures and talking with animated excitement.
"Because she's a nutcase,” Alex said with a low, exasperated tone that only she could hear.
"Alex, I wouldn't go that far. Sure, she's eccentric, but so what. She can afford to be. Don't stew. I've got everything under control."
"Un-huh,” he said, doubt clear in his tone. He swiped a hand over his jaw.
"Besides, I owe her a note of thanks. Being here is making me see things ... differently."
"Such as?"
You. But did she dare come clean and admit that Alex was one of those things? That he'd conjured up a desire for something sure, something concrete for her life? She'd fallen into other relationships, believing each subsequent Mr. Right was truly the one, only to find out she wasn't the one for him.
All her life she'd failed to keep men from leaving her. Why should this time be any different?
The crowd nearby increased in numbers and Casey worried if she and Alex were the big attraction, or if they'd missed out on some other excitement. People had to be bored with their lives if they thought the little scene playing out between her and Alex was more interesting than Elvis’ backyard.
"Such as ... this trip,” Casey answered. She lifted her chin, dead set on regaining control of this bumbling conversation that was apparently amusing the Japanese tourists. “For one, it's given me a new appreciation and respect for one of the Twentieth Century's greatest icons.” Now there was a safe and true answer that didn't reveal anything personal. But boy, did it sound corny.
"Yeah. And what else?"
Damn. “Does there have to be something else?” She threw up her hands and the Japanese group scattered like spooked geese.
"You did say things. Plural."
Crap. Why did Alex have to be so astute and catch every tiny detail? And why did he want to know? Was he fishing—hoping for more than a fleeting interest in him on her part?
"Well ... coming here has also made me realize that maybe Heather isn't so far off the mark. I mean, look at this place. There are people everywhere and this isn't even the height of the tourist season."
"So what's your point?"
"My point is that maybe this remodel isn't as wacky as we first thought. There's no doubt it'll be a challenge to pull off, but there's not many people who don't like Elvis, at least a little bit. Six-hundred thousand visitors a year here has to mean something. We can do this, Alex."
"Excuse me,” a small Japanese man said in broken English. “Would you ... be so kind ... take picture?” He nodded his dark head at Casey, his smile bright, his eyes sparkling with excitement.
"Of course,” she said, returning the smile. He handed her the camera, pointed at some buttons and trotted back to his group as they bunched together, the house providing the backdrop for the photo.
Casey snapped the shot, took a second for good measure and handed the camera back to the little man. “Thank you,” he said with sincerity and bowed. “Me? For you?” He smiled and pointed at the camera in Casey's hand.
"Oh. Sure. That would be fun, wouldn't it, Alex?"
"Yeah, sure."
The Japanese man took her camera while she and Alex moved to stand next to each other. He lifted the camera to take the picture and frowned.
"No. No,” he said, shaking his head. He scurried over to them, his frown still firmly in place. “Closer. Like this.” He clasped his hands over his arms as if he was giving himself a hug, clearly motioning for them to stand arm in arm.
Casey glanced at Alex apologetically. They scooted closer together. Draping an arm around her waist, he let his fingers brush across her backside just below the hem of her sweatshirt.
"Oh!” Casey bopped up onto her tiptoes and down again. He winked, and heat pricked at her cheeks. Who knew Alex could be so ornery?
She liked it.
"Good,” the man said, nodding his head up and down. “Big smile.” He pointed to the corners of his mouth and grinned.
Casey did as he prompted, and out of the corner of her eye she saw Alex's lips quirk up into the lazy grin that always made her heart palpitate.
"Aw. Good picture.” The man held the camera out to Casey, but she couldn't move with Alex's arm still draped securely around her waist. And she didn't want to.
"Thanks so much,” she said, forcing herself to lean forward enough to retrieve the camera. Alex didn't loosen his hold.
"My pleasure. My pleasure.” He bowed again and hurried back to his waiting group. They disappeared in a flurry of excited chatter.
Alex's fingers pressing on her hip scorched right through the denim of her jeans and down to her skin. Casey closed her eyes and leaned into Alex, refusing to relinquish the comfort of his strong arms.
Oh, yeah. His muscles were warm, rock-hard and lean. Images of their bodies entwined, exhausted and slick with sweat after a round of raucous lovemaking consumed her mind.
Alex cleared his throat, snapping Casey out of her second fantasy of the day. She took a quick step to her right, afraid Alex was either thinking she was horny as heck, or completely off her rocker. So much for keeping this trip under control. And so much for her brain ruling over her weakening heart, and over her traitorous body.
"You suppose that's really what all the fuss was about earlier—them trying to figure out how to ask you to take their picture?” Alex asked, acting as if she hadn't fazed him one bit and that nothing had even happened between them.
Casey shrugged, more than a little perturbed by his nonchalance. So what if he wasn't hot-and-bothered like she was. That realization was exactly what she needed to keep her focus, her control.
"Time to get back to work,” she ordered. “We've got a lot more to see."
Leaving behind the bright sunlight of the October sky, they stepped into the darker interior of the Trophy building. Casey blinked and waited for her eyes to adjust. When they did, her jaw dropped. Here in this building, every element of Elvis’ professional career was impressively displayed. While the house reflected Elvis as a person, this building showcased the King of Rock ‘n’ Roll in all his glory.
Gold and Platinum records and other awards lined the walls. Stage costumes, including many of his famous white jumpsuits, studded with their vast array of gems, glittered under the lights while they stood protected behind glass.
"They're magnificent,” Casey said barely above a whisper as she and Alex admired a suit adorned with a large eagle. Made entirely of multi-colored gemstones spanning the torso, the suit took Casey's breath away. She wanted to break through the glass and touch it, hold it, and pack it in her suitcase.
Wouldn't that be a nifty souvenir? “I can see now why Heather is so excited about acquiring one of these."
"Impressive,” Alex said, sidling up next to her. In no time flat the warmth of his body once more seeped through her sweatshirt and into her skin, making her sweat. Okay, perspire. According to one of Casey's grade school teachers, girls didn't sweat, they perspir
ed. Yeah, right. She was sweating. And panting. And drooling.
Great, she still wasn't fully recovered from the photo session in the yard, and now she was dealing with the second four alarm fire of the day.
"It's been years, but I remember seeing some of these,” Alex continued, his voice as intoxicating as aged whisky. He stood so close his breath riffled the hairs on the top of her head.
That did it. She was damned near lost. Her toes danced in her tennis shoes. Her fingers itched to touch. Grabbing Alex by his flannel collar and pinning him up against a gold record-covered wall was pretty darn tempting.
Get it under control, Case. Sydnie wouldn't be happy to get a call from an incarcerated Casey because she'd busted Elvis’ gold records while jumping Alex.
James, Sherry - [Studs For Hire 02] Page 12
