What to Read After FSOG: The Gemstone Collection (WTRAFSOG Book 5)

by Cathryn Fox

  “But you didn’t miss everything, Lindy. Santa had a few presents for you. We brought them along.” Roxanne brought a package from behind her back. She’d stashed it in Lindy’s room earlier.

  Barry cleared his throat. “I have a few things for you too. Pretty soon when you get out of this contraption you’ll have an army of things to play with.”

  Lindy looked at him, then to Roxanne and back again. Her eyes brightened. Then she burst into tears and clutched at his rubber-clad hand held to her shoulder. Jesus, he couldn’t take this. He wasn’t cut out to be a little girl’s father. Her tears ripped at his soul. God damn that woman for dying and condemning this poor little girl to him!

  He swept his free hand over his face and held onto her shoulder, desperate for something to say, when Roxanne spoke.

  “What is it, honey? It’s all right. You cry if you want to. Tell us all about it.” Roxanne had moved to the other side of the tent and put her arm into the glove on that side to comfort his child. He lifted his eyes to her face.

  He only hoped what he felt didn’t show. Raw anguish. He looked back at Lindy.

  “I want Mommy,” Lindy cried, her pleading eyes locked on his.

  That was it. He stood and removed his hand from the glove, startling both Lindy and Roxanne. Then he reached up and unfastened the plastic and pushed it aside. He had seen them do it when they had to examine her. Her wide eyes had lost the pleading and her tears stopped. He smiled.

  He bent down over her bed carefully. And as if she were as fragile as a snowflake, he moved close, gathered her in his arms and held her. She clutched him and her tears started up again in a soft sobbing. But this time he could stand it. This time it felt like there was more hope than despair in those sobs.

  Or maybe it was in himself he felt that hope.

  “Barry,” Roxanne uttered his name on a sob, then whirled around before he looked up. She rushed from the room. He wanted her back. He wanted her to hold him like he was holding his daughter. The thought slipped by his consciousness before he could stop it. He cursed himself for it.

  Eventually his daughter stopped crying and fell asleep. He straightened himself. Unfolding his limbs and turning, he was startled to see Roxanne there with Dr. Oki, watching him.

  Everyone else went home except Barry and Roxanne. He stayed to clean up after the party. But there he sat on the uncomfortable couch with her in the visitors’ lounge, talking about life. He felt compelled to talk to her and, at the same time, he fought the notion that it was a stupid thing to do.

  “I don’t know what’s wrong with me this season. No. I guess that’s not true completely,” he said.

  “What is it? Some mysterious virus invented by a mad doctor the LA Lakers hired to stop you?”

  They laughed.

  “I wish. Then I’d have someone to blame besides myself.”

  “Don’t be crazy. You’re dealing with a crisis. In spite of what the media says, you’ve always been mortal. Maybe you were given a brief sojourn on Mount Olympus, but now you’re back down here with the rest of us. You should be proud of your career even if you never make another basket,” Roxanne insisted.

  “You talk like it’s an easy trip down off Mount Olympus.”

  “No. I know it’s not. I’ve seen firsthand how the very people who put you on a pedestal, have been the first to deride you for your sudden clay feet,” she said. “That can’t feel too good.”

  He laughed again and heard the bitterness sound through. “I’m only thirty-one years old, Roxanne. Clay feet aren’t supposed to come for years. I’m supposed to be at my pinnacle. People were expecting big things this season. This was supposed to be my best season yet.”

  “There you go, believing your press again. What do they know? Do they know you? What you really want? What you need? And what it cost you to get to this point?” Her voice was intense. He studied her face as he considered her words.

  “I have a feeling they don’t care.” He wondered if she cared. “It’s been all my own doing after all. This is what I wanted, what I’ve always wanted and needed. And I never paid attention to the cost before.” He thought of Lindy and looked away from Roxanne. He shrugged as if the gesture could rid him of the despair that seemed to be overtaking him.

  How the hell had he gotten into this discussion with Roxanne? He should stop now before he said any more, before either of them said something they couldn’t forget or ignore. But the part of his mind that was thinking those self-preserving thoughts was not in control. And as he opened his mouth, he suspected that his hormones might be in charge. And therefore she had control over him. He shifted uncomfortably on the couch, and then faced her.

  “My ambition at any cost was self-inflicted, and my failures have been self-inflicted too. And I don’t know why. I don’t know why it’s suddenly so difficult to want to be the best, to want to win every night. What used to be automatic for me now takes a major effort of will. And I don’t always have it.”

  Roxanne laughed a gentle laugh. “You’re burnt out, Barry.”

  Anger flashed through him and he looked at her as if she held the torch. “Burnt out? What the hell does that mean? That’s an empty cop-out phrase. The bottom line is…I don’t want to lose my ambition. I do still want to win. I still want to be the best. But…” He looked blankly at her. His anger drained from him. This is what he could never figure out. But what? What’s changed?

  “Maybe you want more than that, Barry. Maybe you’re tired of paying the price.”

  He sucked in his breath and jumped back from her touch. “The hell I am. I’m working harder than ever.” He looked away from her and shut down his mind. No way was he tired of winning; of being the best. What else was there?

  She shifted closer and stroked her finger along his tensed jaw line. It didn’t help him relax any. He grabbed her hand and pulled it from his face. He didn’t want to talk to her anymore. He looked into her eyes and remembered the first night they talked, when they spoke of the same things.

  But it was different now. She was different now. The twinkle of her smile was still in her eyes, but there was something else there too. Concern? Did she really care for him, or was he merely an opponent in a game? Someone to play with?

  “Honey, you may be working harder than ever, but I also know you’re playing harder than ever—and I don’t mean basketball. There’s nothing wrong with that.”

  “Of course you would say that because I’m playing with you. How the hell do you know what my life was like before I met you? How the hell do you know what it’s like now? You think I’m tired of paying the price? Tired of living like a basketball machine?” He paused and glared at her, willing the knowing twinkle from her eyes. “You’re wrong. I know what I’ve said before, but I still want to be the best. Even if it means living like a robot most of the time because I don’t have forever. In a few years it’ll all be over and I’ll retire—still the best. Then there’ll be plenty of time for the rest of it. I don’t even know what I’ll do then. I don’t ever think about it. And I sure as hell don’t look forward to it.”

  “You’re a God damned liar,” she hissed. She looked like she wanted to slap his face and he had no idea why. She could not possibly have taken this personally. He widened his eyes with surprise, the only thing he had a chance to do before she continued.

  “I know what you want.” She narrowed her eyes.

  “And what’s that?” Trepidation mixed with his curiosity as he wondered what she’d say.

  “You want a life now because you’re scared as hell about what’s going to happen to you when basketball is through with you. Or that’s what you should want if you’re sane. Basketball’s consumed you all these years and now it owns you. You’re rebelling against it now just to prove you have something left to prove. Or to prove you have something left.” She stopped and stared at him intensely.

  “And you’re using me,” she added.

  He watched her smile as she said the unfriendly words,
not knowing exactly how serious she was—and not fully taking in what she said until a few beats after she was finished. Then he decided to find out if it was personal.

  “And do you mind?”

  “No.” She leaned in and nibbled on his lip. “I haven’t had such fun in a long time. Nor such a worthy adversary.” She pulled back before he was ready for her to go. His first instinct was to take her into his arms and forget this conversation. Or try to. But something stopped him. Something unsettled and raw in the back of his mind.

  “I don’t have anything to prove to anyone.”

  “Except maybe yourself.”

  “But I’m the one at the switch.”

  “Then turn yourself off, Mr. Basketball Machine. I want the real Barry to come out and play,” she whispered.

  His body responded wholeheartedly. Once again he had the feeling he was being invited to something more than met the eye. The challenge seemed to be more than to beat her at the game. Was she pretending not to care? The disturbing thoughts ran through his mind and almost prevented him from making a move.

  But he couldn’t ignore the luscious full lips before him, set in that seductive half pout, half-smile. Neither could he ignore the musky sweet scent of her as he moved his head closer and touched her rich silky hair.

  His mind was working even now. He listened to her throaty chuckle and it reminded him all the more of his discomfort. What the hell was it that bothered him? He was about to pull back when she touched him.

  The train of his previous thoughts snapped at the touch of her fingers on him. He wound his arms around her and pulled her close so that her breasts pressed against his heartbeat until he could hear only its pounding in his ears. He felt a great release from deep inside like he’d come out of a long, dark exile. He covered her lips with his, sucking and savoring them.

  Her touch became intense, insistent until he throbbed with need. He moved one hand down the side of her body over her hips to her thigh. Kneading her lips with his, he pushed her back on the couch. He knew nothing but her beauty, her passion, her sensuality, and his need to possess it.

  On top of her, he dragged his lips from hers. “Roxanne,” he whispered, but he wanted to say more. He didn’t know what. She looked back into his eyes with a burning gaze and he saw she was his.

  As he pushed himself up to reach for the zipper of her pants, the corner of his eye registered his surroundings. With a jolt he realized they were in a visitors’ lounge in Children’s Mercy Hospital. His hands stopped and he lifted himself away from her nibbling, mind-drugging kisses.

  “Shit. We can’t do this here in the hospital. I feel like a pervert.” He sat up and straightened himself out. She sat up too.

  “Why don’t we go somewhere?” She half gasped the words, gulping deep breaths as if she’d been under water.

  “We’ll go to my house.”

  “Whatever you say.”

  “Of course. You’d do it right here, wouldn’t you? Just for the thrill of maybe getting caught?”

  She laughed at his suggestion. “Is that a dare?”

  “Don’t get any ideas. I have no wish to be embarrassed.”

  “Conceding another victory?” She wore a triumphant smile.

  “Do you always play games? Is it ever for real?” Barry surprised himself with the question. He realized it was against the rules when he saw the surprise flash in her eyes. And then he wished he’d never opened his mouth. She made him talk too much.

  “No. Never.” She still smiled, but it looked put on. He was relieved at her answer and at the same time, bothered. But that was only because he wanted some control.

  “Let’s go.” Before I ask any more stupid questions.

  Standing was uncomfortable he found, as his jeans strained at the crotch.

  “Problem?” she asked.

  “Don’t be so haughty or I’ll give you a problem, missy.”

  “Oh yeah?” She dared. He looked around the empty, antiseptic room and saw the clock at past one a.m.

  “Yeah.” He looked her over without showing his intent. Then he grabbed her to him and pressed her length against his with his lips molded to hers. His hands held her peach-like bottom hard against his erection. God, she felt good. He slipped his mouth from hers and buried his face in her hair, gritting his teeth against the sudden surge of his pulse. He had to maintain control.

  Pushing her back against a wall, he began an assault on her neck with his mouth, sucking and breathing in her exciting scent, and moved his hands under her skirt to pull down her panties. He kept her pinned with his weight and stroked the length of her slowly. He was rewarded with the sound of her raspy breathing.

  “Barry…you play so well.” She spoke with a strained voice as she tried to touch him. But he didn’t let her. He wanted her to beg this time. He would not be so easy.

  He slipped his fingers inside her panties and she clenched the hair at the nape of his neck. It was his turn to chuckle. But he didn’t stop the stroke of his fingers. He took her chin in his other hand so he could see her face as he moved the pad of his forefinger to drive her to the brink. Watching her face, seeing her lose control, he knew where to go, what to do. She winced. She tried to pull away. But then finally when she had given in with abandon, pushing against him, he stopped.

  “No…. don’t…” Her eyes widened. “Don’t stop…” There was no smile on her face. She looked almost as if she were in pain instead. He could see that she didn’t care that she’d lost the game of control right now. But he would remind her later.

  He pulled back from her and gave her his game face. “I told you. We’re going to my house.” He turned from her. He was far from cool and not completely detached from her pain. She said nothing, but took his hand and followed him out.

  The alarm sounded and Roxanne shut it off for the third time, turning over in bed. Opening her eyes, she noticed the light of the early morning shining through the blinds. She turned back to the clock. Almost seven a.m. She sat upright as Barry stirred next to her. He would kill her when he found out she had shut the alarm off. She hastily got out of bed, retrieving her clothes from the floor, and began dressing.

  Managing to sneak out of the room without waking Barry, she carried her shoes and turned to go downstairs to make coffee. She’d wake him from a safe distance.

  Promptly after coffee and a quick shower, Roxanne left with Barry heading for Boston for the Celtics matinee game at the Garden. They hadn’t spoken much, which she didn’t mind at first. But now the silence made her anxious and jumpy, as if she’d drunk ten cups of coffee instead of one. They were late.

  But now on the highway with barely any traffic, Barry flipped on the cruise control and seemed to relax his intense hold on the wheel. Roxanne watched his face. He stared straight ahead at the road so she couldn’t tell if he was angry. But hell, there was nothing to be angry about. He’d get to the game in time. She decided to take a conversational gamble.

  “Would you like to discuss the contract and the rest of your promotional obligations?” She forced a bright smile as she held her breath. He shook his head.

  “Don’t worry, Barry. You’ll be able to handle it. I’ll help you.” She meant to reassure him.

  “I don’t want to handle it. I can get you the money. Somewhere. Fuck. Forget about it.” He flicked a cold glance in her direction and returned his eyes to the road. The intensity returned to his driving. She felt the corners of her mouth drop and decided it was time to do it. She let out a long, deep sigh.

  “We’ll have to discuss it some time, you know.” The gentleness in her voice surprised them both. “I expect we’ll have to do a lot more than discuss things.” He kept his eyes on the road.

  “Would you rather work with someone else on this project? Maybe Laura?” She said it without thinking. It was a rash suggestion. What was she so suddenly concerned about?

  “Why would I want to do that? Would you rather I worked with someone else? Afraid it might interfere with the gam
e?” His voice mocked her.

  “The game? This isn’t about games.” She thought of Lindy and the other kids at the hospital last night and marveled at how he could remain so unaffected. To hell with her composure, her poise, her cool control—to hell with the game.

  “No?” mocking surprise seared his voice. He got his teeth into her sudden vulnerability and now he was going to shake her up a bit, she could see. Was she going to sit there and let him?

  A new, pulsating surge spread inside her. It wasn’t something she could identify. There was no fight in it, but neither was there any shame. She had to go with it. She had to continue to show her vulnerability.

  “Maybe games are overrated. Maybe it’s real life that holds all the best fun. Want to try it?” She looked at him, waiting for his response. She didn’t have a clue what it would be, but whatever it was would drive the life force running through her to the brink one way or another. She prepared herself to go around the next wild bend in this new, untried roller coaster of feelings, anxiously expecting the unexpected.

  He steered the car ruthlessly toward the side of the road and pulled up, shoved the car into neutral, and turned to her. Her heart hammered.

  He had his game face in place. Roxanne felt the sudden drop of the roller coaster into the pit of her stomach and it was exhilarating and sickening at the same time.

  “Am I supposed to believe that you suddenly want to stop playing games and be real?” His eyes betrayed nothing of what he felt, besides mistrust. Roxanne gave up her chance to get off the ride now and jumped in again for another turn around a dangerous bend.

  “Yes. I am real. I’m not a machine like you pretend to be.” She bit her lower lip, preparing herself for another big dip before letting herself go completely. “Maybe I even have feelings. For you.”

  His mocking laugh rewarded her with a spine-tingling plunge into emotional depths she hadn’t seen since childhood. And this time she couldn’t stay. Even Don’s death had not left her with this feeling of despair. She had to get herself out or she’d drown. She had to fight.