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

by CJ Roberts

  “All right! That’s it! I’ve had enough.” He stomped up the three steps that separated the living room from the dining room.

  “What is your problem?” She automatically rolled another sheet of paper into the machine.

  Travis yanked the plug from the outlet, totally ignoring her shocked cry of protest. “My problem is I’m getting to be an expert on static cling, waxy, yellow buildup and dishes that shine.” He rocked back on the heels of his bare feet as he towered over her. “My problem is you.”

  Casey stared at him in stunned silence. He looked larger than normal, his gray twill shorts and black T-shirt emphasizing the broad lines of his physique. She pushed back her chair, stood up and looked him straight in his glittering eyes. “I am very sorry that you’ve had to do all the household chores,” she responded with stiff formality, “but I warned you about that from the beginning and I think it’s very selfish of you to –”

  “I’m only selfish about one thing and that’s you.” Travis grabbed her arm and dragged her over to the ornate mirror that hung on the wall over the buffet. “Look at yourself,” he ordered, his long fingers clamped around her chin, forcing her to comply. “You are a mess. You look worse than when I arrived. You’re on the verge of total exhaustion.”

  “Complimentary to the end, aren’t you.” She pulled herself out of his grasp and turned away.

  “I am not trying to denigrate you.” His voice was quiet, his tone softer. “I am damn worried about you. I care.” He slipped his arms around her waist and pulled her body against him. “You are pushing yourself harder than ever and I don’t understand why. And, honey, I hate to tell you this but nothing you’ve written in the last week is any good.”

  Casey sighed, closed her eyes and nodded. “I know it stinks and I feel so guilty for using all that paper and probably a whole forest died.” She sniffed and leaned back, enjoying the feel of his hard length pressed intimately against her. Her head lolled against his shoulder, the soft skin of her face brushing against the rough stubble on his cheek. She sighed again, allowing herself to enjoy the intoxicating sense of well-being.

  “What you need is to succumb to the lure of the tropics.” Travis’s low-pitched husky voice was like a physical caress. His breath felt warm against her ear. “Tomorrow, I’m going to take you away from that typewriter and carry you off into the jungle on a little safari.”

  She giggled. “You’ve had too much sun and Edgar Rice Burroughs. I saw you reading those Tarzan stories.”

  He laughed and hugged her tight. “As intriguing as that sounds, I do not have a Tarzan complex.” His hands slid up her arms to the bare expanse of shoulders revealed by the strapless top of her navy romper. “I have learned about a very interesting place not too far from here complete with plantation ruins, cascading waterfall, and a secluded lagoon.” His fingers began to knead the tight muscles of her neck and shoulders.

  “Hmmm…that feels so good.” Casey exhaled a deep sigh of pleasure and moved her head to one side, silently encouraging him to rub the strain from her neck. “Jungle lagoon, huh? Well before I left home, the Syfy Channel had a weekend of Amazon jungle monsters. So…are we talking giant piranhas that will strip our flesh off; or eight foot leaches or snakes and ’gators that can swallow a jet plane or –”

  His hand stopped her tirade. “Oh, my god, you are worse off than I thought. Come on, you are going to get a head start on relaxing right now.” He smiled at her, letting his strong fingers seek and imprison her wrist as he led her towards her bedroom. “Trust me, no piranhas, leaches, ’gators, or snakes…maybe a few normal sized ants trying to eat our picnic.” He flipped on the dresser light before gently pushing Casey down on the bed.

  “Right now, I am going to introduce you to something that will improve your circulation, soothe your frazzled nerves and relax you into a deep sleep for the night so you will be refreshed for tomorrow.” Casey was unable to exercise the willpower to say no. She let Travis arrange her weary, tense body face down on the mattress. His deep voice purred in her ear. “This was a luxury to the ancient Greeks and Romans but practiced by the Chinese for hundreds of years. The art of massage.”

  First he carefully unbraided her hair, releasing the tied-up, silky brown strands from their rubber bands. His fingers filtered through the soft curls, feeling the sun streaked strands caress and wrap around his knuckles. His skilled hands were warm and relaxed against the taut muscles of her neck and shoulders. He seemed to know exactly where and how to touch her, his muscles straining to be firm but as gentle as possible.

  Her mind began to wander. Her thoughts drifted and darted away, her problems and confusions slipped into suspension in another dimension under the delicious sensory stimulation that Travis was providing.

  He varied the rhythm and direction of his hands and the slow circular strokes on the warm skin of her neck and shoulders. He could feel the tension in her body dissipate; her breath became more relaxed and deep. Unfortunately, he could also feel his own body grow hard and taut. It took every ounce of will power and a sharp bite into the inside of his cheek to stop his reaction.

  It was almost as if he were speaking to her without words. His hands were a silent voice that bridged over the week-long separation. She could feel his concern and empathy in the tender roughness of his fingertips against her skin. She didn’t object when Travis lowered the back of her romper. His hands molded around the contours of her body, moving with firm strokes along her spine to her waist. Casey snuggled deeper into the mattress, drowning in feelings of contentment and security under such languorous pleasure.

  With his hands still roaming possessively on her back, he leaned over her, inhaling the clean scent of her skin. He wasn’t quite sure why soap and baby powder were proving to be such a strong aphrodisiac. Travis looked down at her sleeping form.

  Damn, he was hard. All his concerns were flooded by masculine wants and needs. He wanted to reach out and cup her gorgeous ass; he needed to feel her long legs wrapped tight around his waist. He wanted desperately to plunge into her hard and fast. It would have to be hard and fast. At least the first time. He doubted his own ability to slow his hunger.

  Then, he’d take her slow and easy, gifting every inch of her body with his mouth. He remembered how soft her lips had been the first time he’d kissed her. It had been too long, since his tongue had enjoyed the honeyed sweetness of her mouth. Damn, he was growing a hard-on that even another cheek-bite wouldn’t control. With a sharp shake of his head, he slid off the bed and limped toward the door, heading for a meeting with the coldest shower possible.

  “I’m not sure my medical insurance covers horse-related injuries.” Casey ruefully eyed the two broad-backed animals of undeterminable parentage that continually flicked their long ears against the buzzing gnats.

  Travis looked up from tightening the saddle girths and checking the backpacks to grin at her. “They may look lazy and stupid but they are bilingual.”

  Her arched brow rose in surprise. “I take back all the insults,” she crooned to Bizcocho, stroking his shaggy neck soothingly. The horse snorted and nodded his head patiently. “Are you sure you know where this place is?”

  “I’ve got directions right here.” Travis reached into the pocket of his denim shirt and shook out a pencil-drawn map. “We just follow the one and only road past a series of stick and mud houses, after the third chicken coop, we take a left at a split-trunk coconut palm, and then –”

  “All right, all right.” Casey laughed and held up her palm. “I see you have your GPS co-ordinates well in hand. Lead on, oh fearless guide.” She pulled the brim of her Panama hat further down on her forehead in an effort to shade her eyes from the strong rays of the early morning sun. Travis had purchased two Panama’s from a peddler balancing a myriad of straw hats on his head, shoulders and arms.

  She watched how easily Travis’s jean-clad figure swung into the saddle of his chestnut, Carnero. It had been a long time since she’d been on a horse. Taking
a deep breath, she pulled up the legs of her beige khakis and mounted her own dappled brown mount. Together they reined their horses into a sedate walk through Tecpan.

  Casey began to relax on the back of the sure-footed animal, watching the horse clomp past a cluster of squalling pigs and scatter the pecking chickens that roamed the dusty village streets. Even the rumbling two-wheeled, horse drawn arana carts didn’t disturb the lazy gait of their mounts.

  It was a beautiful day. Billowing white clouds loomed like dollops of whipped cream in the clear blue sky. The spectacular golden blooms of the palo verde plants, the tall mariposa lilies, and prickly poppies lined the banks of the river, giving the local women a fragrant, colorful laundry room while they chatted and scrubbed their clothes in cool water. Flat farm fields dotted with yoked oxen and sedately chewing Brahman cattle gave way to a trail that twisted into the high mountains. Casey turned in her saddle, letting her green eyes feast on the heart-stopping view of the village. The color-washed houses looked like Easter eggs nestled amid the green velvet hills.

  The tall, shadowy, mysterious jungle stretched out on either side of the mountain trail. Travis gave Casey a running commentary on the local flora and fauna. The dense, variegated forest was rich in ebony, rosewood, Brazil wood, and mahogany trees. The bent, coconut-ladened palms resembled colorful Christmas trees, decorated with yellow-, purple-, and pink-flowered vines. The land below the Tropic of Cancer provided them with a hedonistic environment that dazzled the eye and excited the imagination.

  Their unhurried trip followed a twisting mountain stream. They crossed and re-crossed the clear, rushing water until the verdant coolness gave way to a clearing and the crumbled remains of an abandoned banana plantation.

  Pulling Bizcocho to a halt, Casey stared at the vine and flower-covered ruins. “Why was I expecting a fabulous columned mansion, House Beautiful furnishings, and a servant bearing something tall and cold?” She asked no one in particular. Pulling off her hat, she used the gauze sleeve of her embroidered camisa to wipe the perspiration from her face and eyes. She took a better look at the littered remains of what was once, obviously a very grand place.

  “They did leave the hitching posts for us.” Travis grinned, climbing off his horse and tying the leather reins to one of six tall posts bearing large tarnished silver rings that stood in respectful silence – monuments of more affluent times.

  Casey slid off her saddle and stretched her long legs, her interested green eyes noting the Grecian touches on the architecture that could still be distinguished among the masses of silky fibers of the kapok trees that had grown through cracks in the foundation. “It seems there is someone to greet us after all.” She pointed to the two-foot long gray iguana happily sunning his scaly body, his tongue darting into the air to capture a tasty flying morsel.

  Travis held out his hand and together they mounted the front stone steps, walked under the remaining two sturdy arches, and wandered around the half-standing walls and smokestacks. “This was one of the area’s earliest plantations. It was in full production by eighteen sixty, using local Indians and workers to transport the bananas through the jungle to the coast for shipping. Three years later a fungus disease and insects destroyed the crops. The owners lacked funds to improve the roads and construct railroad facilities that would be needed to compete with more profitable corporations that had come to Mexico, so they just left.

  Casey viewed the giant-leaved banana plants that surrounded the house. Their heavy stems drooped toward the ground under the burden of a ripening crop of yellow fruit. “This must have been a fabulous place – if only the walls could talk.” Looking down, she watched Travis pull aside a green vine, exposing a pillow stone marker with 1840 carved in its rugged face. “Where did you learn about this place?”

  “From the farmer who rented us the horses. But this is not the reason I brought you here.” He stood up, his voice deepening cryptically, his eyes glittering like agates in the shadowy planes and angles of his face. “Come on, I’ve got something else to show you.”

  Casey laughed at his youthful exuberance. “That’s what I love, a man of mystery.” Once again, she slid her hand into his, letting him lead her through the orchid-spattered, tangled jungle. The trees were alive with colorful parakeets and noisy parrots, a tropical bird bursting occasionally from the underbrush in bright-hued flight.

  They emerged from the verdant jungle canopy into a sloping glade dappled in sunlight. Casey’s breath caught in her throat at the sight of the multi-leveled cascade of clear water that tumbled over smooth sun bleached rocks. A dazzling growth of ferns surrounded a lagoon, whose calm waters reflected the turquoise and blue sky.

  Travis draped a sinewy arm over her shoulders and pulled her close against his body. “Well, wasn’t it worth the trip?”

  “This is fantastic! You’re fantastic!” She laughed excitedly. Her arm found its way around his waist, her hand molding against his blue denim shirt, feeling the firm, well-muscled flesh beneath the rough material. “I am very glad you exhausted all your breakfast energy to convince me to come.”

  “We both needed the change of scenery, the exercise, and the rest.” He smiled at her. “Why don’t you try out that monster free lagoon while I get the lunch I packed and bring the horses around. They deserve a cool drink for their exertions.”

  Casey needed no second invitation to bathe her overheated body. She pulled her blouse over her head and stepped out of her jeans to reveal a black, V-front maillot criss-crossed with thin orange stripes. She silently blessed Travis for insisting she wear her bathing suit as she waded into the tranquil, glittery water. The heat and perspiration on her skin disappeared under the cool, silky ministering’s of the tropical lagoon.

  At the sound of moving underbrush and neighing horses, Casey turned to see Travis tie their mounts to a grove of mango trees near the water’s edge. She watched him strip off his clothes, his tanned muscular physique highlighted by royal blue swim trunks piped in gold. In a few long strides, Travis was beside her in the thigh-deep cool clear water.

  They frolicked under the icy tingle of the waterfall in the shadows of glorious canopies of green ferns and colorful exotic flowers. They dunked each other and splashed like children in their magical rainforest until, exhausted, they turned lazily and floated on their backs, their eyes closed against the brilliant sky.

  After a long interlude of blissful solitude, Travis stood up and shook the water from his ears. He reached out and grabbed Casey’s floating braid of hair. One emerald eye opened questioningly. “I’m hungry.”

  She lifted her head and lowered her legs, feeling the firm mud beneath her feet. “You are always hungry,” she retorted with a teasing grin. “What’s on the menu?”

  “Come and find out.” He gestured gallantly for her to precede him, letting his eyes feast on the view of the molded curves of her body the wet maillot so kindly provided. He was very glad he was still chilled from the lagoon.

  While Casey spread a dark green blanket on the ground under an awning of papaya trees, Travis opened the saddlebags and distributed the food he had prepared for their picnic. He opened foil-wrapped packages to reveal cold fried chicken, hard-boiled eggs, slices of cheese, crackers, carrots, apples, olives, tomatoes, and fragrant mango slices.

  He pulled a rope from the water, lifting two coconuts onto the bank. He shook them before his strong fingers wiggled the corks out of the smooth green shells and slid a straw deep into the interior. Snapping a purple bougainvillea blossom from a nearby vine for garnish, he handed one to Casey. “It’s a local libation the barkeeper made up for me – coco-loco.” He took a long pull from his own straw.

  Casey followed suit. Her eyes blinked at the obvious liquor content in the smooth coconut milk. “It’s good but powerful.” She coughed, wrinkling her nose at Travis’s wide grin. She looked around the forest. “You know the best thing about being away, there’s no news. No TV, no papers, no Internet. Matt made us set up Twitter accounts and Faceb
ook pages. It was just way too much. My brain just could not taking being assaulted by another politician who’s fractured history or another jock denying he’s used drugs or –” she waved her hand.

  “Totally agree with you there.” They had settled Indian-style under the cool trees munching their lunch in amicable enjoyment. “What do you think your father would have said about all the sport’s figures that have become so tarnished?”

  “He would have ignored the steroids, ignored the infidelity, ignored their stupidity. They were his god’s. His biggest complaint was always about the ever-growing female sportscaster’s invading the locker rooms and even the slight increase in coverage of women’s sports.”

  Travis frowned. “Okay, you’re probably not going to like hearing this. But to be quite honest, I don’t think I would have liked your father much.”

  “To be quite honest, I didn’t like him much either.” Casey inhaled a deep breath. “I know, that violates a commandment. But when I was doing the series on abuse –”

  “Damn…he didn’t physically abuse you did he?”

  She smiled at his anger. “No, not physically, although I spent a lot of time being sent to my room. I just hadn’t realized how mentally and emotionally abused I was. Then I met this very nice man, he was in his nineties, and he had been badly physically abused as a child.

  “And yet, Travis, he had this great attitude about life. He told me, you can’t go back in time and quite often there’s no way to truly understand someone else’s motives. A person has two choices, to wallow or go forward. To make something of themselves in spite of or to drown in the past. So, I’m working on that. Probably need years of psycho-therapy—”

  “No, you don’t. You have a life to be proud of.”

  “Thank you.” Her green eyes covertly strayed to Travis, watching him unclench his fist and reach for the last of the pimiento-stuffed olives. Anyone would think we had been close for years. They had spent the afternoon playing and teasing each other like brother and sister. They were buddies completely in tune with each other, talking about everything, sharing their thoughts and personal intimacies. A single soul dwelling in two bodies. She had found a second self – a friend. Being that open and frank had eased all the silly sexual feelings that had threatened her equilibrium. Now Casey was able to bask in the relaxed glow of the camaraderie that enhanced their earlier encounters. “How about your parents? Are they in Michigan? And your sisters?”