by CJ Roberts
He cleared his throat. “No, everyone lives in sunny Florida. My sisters are all married to great guys and they each have two kids.
“My folks will be celebrating…hmmm…their forty-fifth wedding anniversary this year. They are still, almost giddy, in love with each other. You know, now that I think about it, that’s another reason my engagement was more negative than positive.” At her quizzical expression, he continued. “Well, I just never had that all-consuming, giddy-in-love feeling with Barbara. It was more like a business arrangement.”
She shuddered. “That’s not good and not much fun.” Her white teeth punctured the moist, fragrant flesh of a juicy golden mango. “I’m glad you got out of it. You probably would have been divorced by now. Do you know half of my girlfriends are divorced, two are on their second husbands.”
“You’re probably right.” He slanted a glance at her. “I think it’s important to be friends first. I mean the sexual attraction has to be there but you have to have more than that.”
“Totally agree.” Casey leaned back against the gnarled tree trunk, leisurely surveying the incredible wonders of nature in the variegated jungle and listening to the tuneful refrains of the birds.
It was a perfect day. A memory that would never fade. “Of all the places I have been and lived, this is the most beautiful.” Her voice trembled with emotion. “You have given me the Garden of Eden.”
Travis smiled at her flushed features. He shifted his position to match hers. His bare shoulder and arm brushed warmly against her skin. The taut muscles of his hair-rough thigh and leg rubbed against the silken expanse of long leg, while his toes playfully teased the sole of her right foot. “Tell me about all the places you’ve lived and the things you’ve done.”
“I guess it was more like military life,” she conceded after a few minutes of thoughtful contemplation. “My father changed jobs a lot in the early days, moving from small newspapers to larger ones, then to radio and finally to television. He would rent an apartment, and hire a housekeeper for me. Then off he’d go, covering all the local sports events, writing the occasional editorial opinion, trying to make a name for himself.” Casey yawned sleepily. The sultry afternoon heat combined with the potent liquor-ladened coconut milk was beginning to take a lethargic toll on her system. Her head rolled lazily to one side, her cheek resting against Travis’s shoulder, her nose inhaling the warm scent of his skin.
“When I was older and didn’t need a housekeeper, I’d go with him. We spent winters in the training camps in the south and summers on the road following the teams. I’ve got quite a collection of autographed baseballs, footballs, basketballs, hockey sticks, jerseys, gloves, tennis balls, golf balls …” Her remarks became briefer and slower and punctuated with little yawns until they stopped altogether.
Travis carefully moved Casey’s head from its twisted position on his shoulder to a more comfortable one in his lap. His fingertips delicately followed the curve of her brow line over the round contours of her cheek and down the firm angle of her jaw. His tawny eyes watched the steady rise and fall of her full breasts beneath the clinging maillot.
He could feel the immediate hardening response of his own body and he fought to control his baser instincts. For the first time in his life, he had been able to open up and talk about himself. He had shared his feelings and thoughts and was ready to risk a personal involvement. There was an inner warmth in Casey. He recognized it and he wanted it. She was intelligent, witty, and honest.
Honest! A muscle in his cheek flinched at that word. A shiver ran down his spine despite the heat. Still, it was better this way. Casey knew him without all the conventional social trappings and labels. She was meeting the real man.
Travis looked down at her sweetly sleeping face. He didn’t want to miss the right moment, and while faint heart never won fair lady, Casey he felt was still an innocent. Despite moving around the country with her father, being on her own in her early teens, and reporting on the seamier side of life, she had remained soft and compassionate.
His hand formed a fist. Damn her father. His words and attitude had been as damaging as physical abuse. She was just beginning to develop confidence and her own self-esteem. Casey was a precious rarity and he was not going to make a wrong move and lose her. He had finally made the right connection. Travis leaned his head back against the mango tree and stared up into the brilliant azure sky. Fate had smiled at him in the form of Mike Granger and his invitation to use the villa. He’d always be grateful.
Casey woke to a rumbling in her ear and an unusual rising and falling sensation beneath her cheek. “Is that thunder?” She mumbled sleepily.
“That is my stomach.”
She turned her head, her eyelids fluttering open when a silky curl of hair tickled her nose. Casey found she had indeed fallen asleep with her head on Travis’s naked abdomen. Hastily, she sat up, her face blushing in embarrassment. “You can see what a scintillating conversationalist I am, I even bored myself.” She glanced at him sheepishly. “Were you sleeping too?”
He grinned at her, his long fingers tugging her braid. “I couldn’t. Your snoring kept me awake.”
Casey stuck her tongue out at him. She stood up and stretched, trying to shake off the lassitude that assailed her body. “I suppose we should start heading back.” She sighed, her eyes gazing wistfully around their tropical paradise.
“Yes, we should.” He began to pack the remains of their picnic into the saddlebags. “How about if we spend some time on the beach? We can eat supper under one of the thatched palapas and –”
Casey’s laughter interrupted him. “Honestly,” she pushed his Panama hat onto his head. “I don’t think I have ever encountered anyone as hungry as you are.”
“Maybe I just haven’t tasted the one thing that will appease my appetite.” He smiled lazily into her eyes. Then he reached behind her, plucked a wild orchid from its vine and tucked it behind her ear.
It took their sure-footed horses an hour and a half to plod down the steep mountain trail and reach the village. Travis and Casey left their mounts with their owner at a farm on the edge of town then walked along the beach, following the curve of pure white sand that held back the foaming sea. A young peddler balancing a tortoise on his head and carrying an armadillo under each arm tried to interest them in purchasing one of his treasures as pets, but they laughingly declined.
Casey started collecting a few of the abundant sand dollars and large seashells that littered the crescent coastline while Travis negotiated with a fisherman for their dinner. He returned to the spot where Casey had settled with a boyish grin on his face and fresh grilled red snapper on a stick, tortillas and cold beers.
The sun was low on the horizon when they climbed the last of the stone steps to the villa. The colorful sky tinged their bodies in a golden glow and dappled the glittering waters of the bay with a rainbow of tints. By the time Travis finished taking a shower and changing into khaki shorts and a striped rugby shirt, Casey had once again settled behind the typewriter and was writing furiously. He sullenly eyed her diligently working form, her engrossed expression and her fingers that flew over the keyboard.
This was not the way he had planned to end their day. That damn book of hers was beginning to get on his nerves. He had wanted her to have a complete day of rest. She had relaxed during their trip and seemed to have exorcised whatever demons had driven her to the brink of exhaustion. He opened his mouth, then closed it, grimacing ruefully at the feelings of jealousy that invaded his body. Casey had come here to work and he had promised to help. He picked up a hefty pile of manuscript pages that still need editing and headed for the leather sofa in the living room.
Casey pulled another sheet of paper from the machine, crumpled it and threw it in the general direction of the wastebasket. It joined six other sheets that had met a similar fate. She lowered head, rubbing the tense muscles of her neck with weary fingers. It had been a restful but exhilarating day in the jungle, and instead of feeling
lethargic, she had returned to the villa anxious to tackle the one scene in her book that had been giving her trouble for days – the love scene. “This stinks! It’s awful! Why did I ever start this?”
Travis sat up from his prone position on the couch and peered at her over the tops of his reading glasses. “Take a break. Let me see what you’ve done and maybe I can help.”
She resurrected the seven crunched attempts, smoothed out the sheets of paper, then shuffled down the three steps to the living room. Casey rested her chin against the sofa arm. “I’m lousy at writing love scenes. Everyone seems to be tied in a knot. I swear these two people have six legs and seven arms between them.” She sulked.
He grinned at her, plucked the pages from her hand, and laid them on the massive wooden coffee table. “Most of the chapters are fantastic, there are only minor corrections and most of the time I’m so involved in reading the story that I have to go back for a second look at the grammar, and your spelling. There is a dictionary.”
“That’s why I have you.” Her lips curved in a smile. “Maybe I’ll read someone else for a change.” She walked to the massive bookcase-lined wall and began rummaging through Matt Granger’s collection of paperbacks and hardcover novels. She discovered a thin paperback with no cover wedged between two best sellers. Casey flicked through a few pages, raised one delicate eyebrow, then settled into a gold leather armchair.
“This really isn’t as bad as you think,” Travis commented an hour later. “You do seem to have everyone in one of your yoga knots, but with a little re-writing and proper direction you’ll get the effect you’re after.” When Casey made no reply other than a guttural acknowledgment, he lowered the heavily edited pages of her manuscript and stared at her.
She was sitting sideways in the overstuffed leather chair, looking crisp and cool in her slim white jeans and a blue and white striped shirt. Her hair was still pulled back in a braid, giving him an excellent view of her entranced features that were tinged pink from a day in the sun.
“Casey, did you hear me?” He was rewarded with another unintelligible grunt. “Casey!”
The sharpness of his voice jarred her concentration. She blinked a few times, then refocused on his presence. “I’m sorry. Did you say something?”
He snorted. “What the hell are you reading that’s so interesting?”
“It’s really quite terribly written,” Casey conceded cryptically, putting her index finger in the book to mark the page. “But I can see where I made my mistake. I was trying to write a love scene when I should have written a sex scene. There is a very big difference in the way you write the two,” she waved the book at him. “And this little gem is a great teacher.”
“What is that little gem?” He inquired in a deep voice that enunciated each word.
“It’s called Yolanda’s Seven Erotic Knights.” She grinned at him, her dimple making an appearance in her right cheek. “That’s knights with a k.”
“You mean you’ve been sitting there all this time, reading some trashy porno novel?” Travis sat up, his bare feet hitting the marble floor with a resounding slap.
“Well, it’s not really that pornographic,” Casey returned with due consideration. Her expression was serious, but her green eyes were alight with laughter. “Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday’s knights, that’s with a k, were nothing to really write about, but hey, Thursday, well…he’s getting very, very interesting.” She raised her eyebrows expressively giving her best leer.
“Give me that book,” he ordered, yanking off his glasses and tossing them on the sofa before standing up.
She looked at him in amazement. His features were dark and contorted with an anger she found irrational. “What do you mean, give you the book? I’m not through with it.” She deliberately ignored his instructions, opened the book and began to read.
“I said give me that damn thing!” Travis stalked over to her, then reached for it.
A startled shriek escaped through Casey’s lips and she hastily tucked the book under her arm and scrambled into a more advantageous position to protect her property. “What’s the matter with you? You’re acting crazy!”
“Me? What the hell’s wrong with you, reading that garbage.” His mouth twisted into a cruel sneer. “Are you trying to prove what a libertine you are.?”
Her jaw dropped at his derogatory remark. Casey pressed her lips together tightly, her chin jutted out belligerently as she stared up at him. “I got a Pulitzer Prize for reporting on something a lot trashier than this novel.” She made an aggressive move to stand up, trying to eliminate their height differential, only to find herself roughly pushed back into the chair.
Travis place his large hand at the base of her throat, his long fingers splayed like a fan against the soft skin exposed by the low neckline of her shirt. She wriggled, struggling valiantly to get free, but his fingers only pushed deeper into her flesh. In the scuffle, the book fell to the floor. Travis released her and grabbed it.
“Give that back to me!”
He slapped aside her outstretched hand and turned his back on her.
Casey lunged to her feet. “Travis, you are acting ridiculous. Give me my book!” Her voice was high and thin, her breathing coming in short jerky gasps. Casey sprinted after him. Her fingers snagged a handful of shirt material, effectively halting his escape.
Travis favored her with a cold, quelling glance. He released her hold on his shirt, then turned on his heel and walked into his bedroom, slamming the door soundly in her face.
In sheer frustration, Casey smashed her fist against the solid wood of the door, making sure Travis heard her last word on his behavior.
This was the second time Travis Craig had cost her a night’s sleep. Casey paced back and forth across the bedroom carpet exhaling in frustration for the hundredth time. She was utterly at a loss to understand what had precipitated his ridiculous outburst. She leaned against the sliding doors, staring in the glass at her glum moonlit reflection.
She didn’t know why Travis had gotten so upset with her for reading that book, but she did know it bothered her to have him so angry. Casey walked out the open door onto the wooden sundeck, the sheer material of her pale green shorty pajamas shimmering about her tall body. Feeling sad and lonely and very unhappy, she settled herself on the thick padded cushion of one of the wide redwood chaise lounges.
The full moon hung suspended in the brilliant star-strewn sky, casting a glistening phosphorescent sheen on the tranquil waters of the bay. But even the serene tropical view, the balmy breeze that ruffled her loose hair, and the intoxicating scent of night-blooming jasmine proved to be of little comfort to Casey’s sorrowful condition.
The sound of feet hitting against the stone steps caused her to turn expectantly. It was Travis, his shirt wadded up in one hand, rivulets of water running down his muscular body and his khaki shorts plastered to his hips from a dip into the sea. He stared at her for a long moment, then moved past her into the kitchen.
“Travis,” she twisted around in the chair, “please, talk to me for a minute.”
He sighed heavily, walked back and looked down at her. The luminous night sky cast her upturned face in an ethereal glow. “What?” The word sounded torn from deep within his chest.
Casey sat up, moving her legs to one side in a silent invitation for him to join her, but Travis remained stiffly erect, an uncompromising expression on his rugged features. She sighed, pouted prettily. “Travis, I don’t like having you mad at me.” Her voice was childlike and softly persuasive. She reached up and captured his right hand between hers. “I’m sorry if I upset you. I didn’t mean to make you angry.”
His crumpled shirt fell onto the redwood deck, leaving his left hand free to wipe the dampness from his face. He took a deep breath. “Look, I guess I overreacted.” He looked down at her, grinned sheepishly, then settled his rangy frame on the edge of the flowered cushion. “I just didn’t want you to read that trash. It bothered me. It –”
�
�I know,” Casey interjected in a dull, flat tone, her head drooping expressively. “It was like catching one of your sister’s reading it or, worse, your mother.”
He put a finger under her chin and lifted her face until she looked straight into his eyes. “You do not remind me of any of my sisters or my mother.” He ground out harshly. A muscle moved ominously in his cheek, his amber eyes gleaming like those of a cat. “Heaven help me, I wish you did.” His mouth twisted savagely over hers; his firm tongue thrust apart her soft lips with an insistent hunger that demanded satisfaction.
Casey’s heart erupted in a shocked, frantic rhythm in her chest. Her hands struck out against his arms, but five virile fingers easily captured her wrists while his muscular body propelled her backward until they were both lying on the wide chaise.
When she tried to twist her head away, his seeking lips mercilessly found hers, absorbing her very breath into his mouth. Travis’s free hand deftly unfastened the buttons of her pajama top. He moved his body over hers, crushing her soft breasts against his chest.
The friction of hard flesh against silken skin and the intoxicating strength of his kisses brought tremors of pleasure washing over Casey like a warm, slow tide. Suddenly, she stopped fighting and began to respond. All the pent-up feelings she had sanely tempered were released in a frenzy of rampant desire.
Her teasing tongue slipped into the moist depths of his mouth. Her body arched invitingly. Travis released her hands and gathered her closer. His water-soaked khaki shorts had spread their wetness to the sheer fabric of her pajamas, rendering them useless. Their bodies melted together from the waist down. She could feel the quick heat of his flesh and his hard erection against her. They might as well have been naked.
