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

by CJ Roberts

  He handed her back the coffee mug. “Why don’t you relax and play mistress of the villa today.” His eyes tenderly caressed her profile, his mind wrestling with a multitude of thoughts. “Casey…” She looked at him expectantly. Travis shook his head, silently cursing his indecision. “Never mind, it will keep until tonight. I’ll bring something scrumptious back for dinner.” His knuckles caressed the soft skin of her cheek. His mouth brushed her lips before he went out the back door.

  Casey watched his long-legged stride eat up the one hundred fifty steps to the malecón, and then he disappeared. She sighed and flopped into one of the counter chairs, chiding herself for the loneliness that invaded her body. Massaging the back of her neck, her fingers came in contact with the necklace. Casey’s mouth curved into a wide smile, remembering the day Travis had presented her with that expensive piece of jewelry.

  Their week’s stay at the Castillo’s apartment in Acapulco had stretched into two. During that time, Casey privately celebrated a glorious awakening and rebirth in her life. Travis had made her aware of her sensual nature and under his patient tutelage, she had shed her inhibitions and self-consciousness. She trusted him implicitly and the sexual harmony they had developed only enhanced the overall perfection of their relationship.

  Casey had been taking advantage of the condo’s private sundeck when Travis had come marching onto the penthouse roof carrying a birthday cake decorated with lit candles. “Happy birthday to – good heavens!” His song sputtered to a halt. “What on earth are you doing?”

  “I am celebrating my birthday.”

  “By lying naked in the sun?”

  “This is my birthday suit.” She opened her eyes and grinned at him. “It has taken me thirty years to actually feel comfortable enough to sunbathe in the nude. And what more perfect a place than right up here.” Casey waved her hand gracefully at her surroundings. “The only person watching is that lecherous pelican sitting on the wood pilings.”

  “And me.” Travis corrected her. He placed the cake on the umbrella-shaded patio table, then seated himself on the edge of the wide red-wood lounge chair. “You should really wear something.” He reached into the breast pocket of his tan knit shirt and pulled out a gold-foil-wrapped box. “Happy birthday.”

  “Travis!” Casey eagerly ripped open the package and lifted the top. Twisted serpentine links of gold winked brilliantly in the sun. “Oh…it’s beautiful.” She breathed, then looked at him anxiously. “But it must have cost a fortune and –”

  “No if’s, ands, or buts allowed.” He argued cheerfully. Travis picked up the necklace, locked it around her throat, and let his fingers press the rich gold chain against her tanned skin.

  “I love it.” Casey slid her arms around his neck. “And I love you.” She placed a feather light kiss on the corner of his mouth. Travis had stopped smiling, the intensity of his amber gaze made her shiver despite the sun.

  “You taste and smell like buttered coconut.” His tongue meandering leisurely down the side of her neck to the valley between her breasts.

  Casey leaned back against the flowered cushions and managed to look prim and proper despite her nudity. “You are blocking my sun.” Her lashes fluttering closed over innocent emerald eyes.

  Travis inspected her skin judiciously. “I think you’re beginning to burn.” He picked up the bottle of tanning lotion, squirted some into his palms and began massaging the coconut-scented liquid into her shoulders.

  She sighed and enjoyed the languid contentment of the moment. She willed herself to ignore the sensuous feelings Travis’s firm hands had conjured up as they slithered and slipped over her skin. But it was an exercise in futility. Her breathing and pulse became more rapid under the wild electric tremors that continually shocked her body.

  His hands slipped down and captured a soft full breast, lifting its hardened nipple to meet his seeking lips. His fingers stroked the satiny expanse of her stomach, traced her navel, then moved down to explore the triangle of curls between her thighs. Casey moaned softly, her body writhing against an inner heat that threatened to consume her. When Travis’s mouth and hands suddenly abandoned her, she opened her eyes and found he was in the process of shedding his clothes.

  She pulled his body back on top of her, not even trying to hide the hungry gleam in her eyes. Her fingers lightly ruffled the dark hair that covered his chest and her nails teasingly scratched the warm bare flesh of his arms and shoulders. She moved her body, letting the taut peaks of her breasts tantalize his skin.

  Travis’s greedy mouth covered her naked flesh with urgent kisses. He opened her legs to his searing tongue, as it lovingly lashed her clit. Pleasure rocked her, she whimpered under his continued teasing until he heeded her pleas. Then his hands were under her hips, lifting her to him so he could slowly work his thick, hard shaft into her tight, wet depths.

  Only the pelican, half asleep on his wooden mooring, noticed that the thirty candles on the birthday cake had melted into the chocolate icing. It was the raucous cries of yet another pelican landing on the villa’s sundeck that shook Casey from her erotic reverie.

  She found her skin flushed and glowing from the wanton memories. Shaking her head, she marveled at the change in herself. This Casey Reynolds was a totally different woman from the one that had left Boston twelve weeks ago.

  Twelve weeks! Could it really be that long? Casey walked to the patio doors and looked out at the glittering waters of Silver Bay. That was the trouble with living here – all conception of time was lost. There seemed little point in remembering the month, day, or date. Each was the same as the last – filled with sunshine, surf, and fragrant flowers.

  Boston would be awakening from its long winter’s sleep to the scent of crab apple and dogwood trees flowering along the narrow cobblestone streets of Beacon Hill. The Common would become lush and green as would the tranquil century-old Public Gardens. Banks of red tulips and cherry blossoms would provide the perfect background for passengers of swan boats. The merchants at Quincy Market would be un-furling their colorful awnings and umbrellas and hanging pots of geraniums along the glass-canopied aisles.

  Casey sniffed audibly, feeling very home sick. She had mailed quite a few postcards to Matt, they were one-way conversations rather than emails that needed responses. She did miss hearing his gruff voice and looking at his craggy features. The plaster cast on his leg would have been removed by now. She had found a current New York Times in a hotel lobby in Acapulco, the financial column noted the sale of the Annex to the Marshall Group had gone through.

  Casey admonished herself sharply, the newspaper wasn’t her concern anymore. Hadn’t she abandoned journalism to become a novelist? She wandered into the dining room and stared contritely at the typewriter. She had lied to Travis about being stuck on the last chapter. In truth, the book had been completed for over a week. Each day she had dutifully sat retyping already perfect pages just to perpetrate the illusion. The flash drive with the finished manuscript was packed safely away in her purse.

  Why had she lied? Casey raked her hands through her hair, forcing herself to answer that question. She knew the reason. Over the last three months she had been lulled into a false sense of security and blinded by the sheer romance of her life with Travis. But once the book had been completed, her excuse for staying at the villa became flimsy at best. The reality of their relationship had insinuated itself into her subconscious and festered like a cyst. They had been reveling in an intimate world of two, but it was only a temporary celebration.

  Temporary – the word had a finality that shocked her. How long could the villa be their home? They were only borrowers of this house and guests of the country. How long could they stay away from the real world and live in paradise? Eventually, like Adam and Eve, they would leave. Travis would go back to Michigan and find another teaching position. She would return to Boston and wait hopefully for book contract.

  Lately, Casey mused thoughtfully, Travis had seemed rather preoccupied and intr
overted. He was no fool. Time was passing and they were trying to force it to stand still. She hadn’t had the nerve to more fully inquire about his finances. He had mentioned receiving a severance package, which was why he couldn’t file for unemployment. But after three months, his funds must be running out. On a couple of occasions she had accidentally discovered him absorbed in pages of accounting figures. He had to be thinking about his future. She was thinking about hers. She had hoped it would be them both thinking about ‘theirs.’

  She found herself in the bedroom and mechanically began to straighten the bed linen and fluff the pillows. She sat down on the edge of the mattress, hugging Travis’s pillow to her breasts. The clean smell of his body lingered on the pillowcase and brought a warm glow to her skin.

  Last night his lovemaking had been different. At first, he had been totally absorbed in appeasing his own appetite, taking her with primitive, savage abandon. Then he became so incredibly tender and passionate that she ached with exquisite joy from him satisfying her own needs. She loved Travis so much, her whole focus on reality had disappeared. He knew all her secrets and desires and he fulfilled them. He had become the backbone of her life, making it more satisfying and enjoyable. All the love and nurturing she’d never had, she had found. They were two personalities that had merged into one entity.

  Casey grimaced ruefully. For a woman who had fled a life of involuntary servitude, she suddenly realized how totally dependent she was on one man. She had become a sponge, literally absorbing all the pleasure he could give her. God, what a mess.

  Travis had said nothing about making their relationship permanent. In fact the subject of an engagement or even a more definitive commitment to live together had never been discussed. He said he loved her but – didn’t all men use that term with ease? Maybe their love was only a vacation romance that flourished in the torrid tropics. Casey’s optimistic side began to falter.

  She jumped up off the bed and began to pace back and forth across the carpet. Right now, Travis was probably at the airport checking plane schedules and reactivating his ticket. She bit her lip and pressed trembling fingers against her pounding temples. Hadn’t he muttered something about talking to her when he got back tonight?

  Panic welled in her throat and her breathing quickened to the point of hysteria. Those earrings were probably to be her farewell gift – a little remembrance of a romantic tryst in Mexico. The pain in her head mounted to terrifying proportions. Casey saw her whole world tumbling around her like a house of cards. She had been avoiding the reality of the situation for a long time. Now time had become her greatest enemy.

  Her mind projected a vision from a classic movie script. Only she didn’t have the courage of Ingrid Berman in Casablanca. She could have never boarded that airplane and left Humphrey Bogart without ever looking back. Was that to be her destiny? Was her affair with Travis fated to end in one of those civilly polite airport good-bye scenes with both of them mouthing trite little phrases and being stoic adults?

  Casey vehemently shook her head. No! She was feeling anything but calm and controlled. She wanted Travis to remember her the ways she was this morning – the way she had been curled in his arms last night. She wanted him to remember her happy and full of joy, not a quivering mass of emotions in a crowded airport lounge.

  Her mind snapped around a sudden decision. She tugged off her nightgown and pulled on underwear, a brown knit shirt and beige slacks. She flung open the louvered closet doors and reached for her suitcase. It would be so much easier if she left quickly and quietly – no fuss, no muss, no emotional mess. She took her clothes from the dresser then added the garments from the closet and zipped them inside the nylon bag. She swept her cosmetics into a red tote bag, then wheeled the suitcase to the front door.

  She made a hurried inspection of the kitchen. All appliances were turned off and the dishes were washed. She took a steak from the freezer and left it to defrost so Travis would have something for dinner, in case he forgot to bring something back.

  Casey stopped in the dining room and slid the printed manuscript into her large carry-on along with the flash drive. Then she tried to write a note to Travis. Words failed her. On paper nothing made sense. She crumpled her futile attempts into the wastebasket. Was she supposed to be cavalier? Witty? Soulful? Blasé? Damn…she didn’t know how to say goodbye. She didn’t want to go away, but it had to be done. They both had to move on. This seemed the least painful solution, and Casey realized she was coward enough to take it.

  It was a hot, dusty walk into Tecpan. She arrived just in time to flag down the rusted, badly dented bus that transported the villagers to Acapulco. She shared her seat with a coup of scratching hens and a smelly goat that kept nibbling the rope soles of her espadrilles.

  The tourist traffic was heavy during the Easter rush. It took six airlines and four days before Casey touched down in New York. She really hadn’t minded sleeping in terminals and eating out of vending machines. She had left her taste for life in Mexico.

  10

  “TGIF,” Matt Granger muttered under his breath. Friday was like any other day of the week – only worse. He collected all the unfinished paperwork scattered on top of his desk and quickly disposed of it in his file drawer. Everything would keep until Monday. The Annex had been put to bed; now he, too, could go to bed.

  The steadily blinking light on the telephone caught his attention. It was his private line. Matt bit off an expletive, roughly punched the button, then scooped up the receiver. “Yeh?”

  “Hello, Matt.”

  “Casey!” He sat down on the edge of his desk. “Casey, is that you?”

  A tremulous laugh broke in his ear. “Already I’m forgotten?”

  “Never.” His gruff voice turned tender. “How’s Mexico? Tired of all the sun and surf yet?”

  Casey cleared her throat. “Actually I’ve been gone from the villa for the past two weeks. I owe you an apology. I know I should have called sooner but I’ve…I’ve had things to do.” She took a deep breath. “How’s everything? How’s your leg? Is the Marshall Syndicate treating you and everyone right?”

  “My leg is fine, still in physical therapy. Why don’t you come back and find out about the rest. You’re still a member of the staff. I never struck your name from the payroll records. Marshall is here with his wife and son. They are nice people. You’d really love them.”

  “I’m glad things worked out so well for you.” Casey licked her dry lips and tried to sound casual. “I’ve been trying to get in touch with Mike, but he’s not responding to emails. Where is he?”

  “He’ll be back here Sunday. He’s backpacking with those students and connections are hard to come by. When are you coming home?”

  Home. The word made her wince. Casey wasn’t sure where home was anymore. “I don’t know. I haven’t had any calls, have I?” Her voice was anxious and hopeful.

  “The only one interested in you is Marshall,” Matt related cheerfully. “He wants you back writing for the Annex and he’s willing to pay. I was able to give everyone healthy raises and new equipment has been ordered. And Casey, I have a ton of emails from readers wanting you back. You have been sorely missed, lady.”

  Not by everyone. Travis hadn’t contacted the paper nor sent her an email. Nothing.

  “Casey, you still there?”

  “Yes.” But she wasn’t really. The vital parts, her heart and soul, had been left in a villa in Mexico. Damn, she was whimpering like a fool. This had to stop, plenty of people had one-night stands, granted hers had been a twelve-week stand but—

  “Casey! Listen you owe it to yourself to come to Boston and talk with Marshall. If you’re going to quit, then he’s the one you have to tell. You still have vacation pay to collect and Tina wants to know whether she should look for a new roommate.”

  She squared her shoulders. “All right, Matt, I’ll fly in tomorrow night.”

  “Fine. Come to the office and then I’ll take you to see your new boss. After that
you can tell me all about Mexico, and the book and what your plans are.”

  The Charles River gleamed like a twisted golden ribbon in the sunset. It brought back memories of the dazzling evening sky reflecting on Silver Bay. Casey sighed, her body wilting against the red leather bucket seat of Matt’s Corvette.

  “For a woman who’s been on vacation for nearly four months you look more tired now than when you left,” Matt chided her gently.

  Casey gave him a wan smile. “Isn’t there an old joke about needing a vacation to rest up from your vacation?”

  “But you weren’t there just resting, you were busy writing.” His gray eyes left the windshield to glance at her averted profile. “You haven’t mentioned your book, was it…turned down?”

  She shook her head. “No, my agent sold it quickly. It’s amazing what having a Pulitzer Prize will do for your sales and marketability,” Casey told him cynically. “It was auctioned off and I got a hefty advance.”

  “Don’t sound so disappointed. That book would have sold under a pseudonym,” Matt growled at her. “You are a damn good writer. Marshall was impressed. He and his wife went through the morgue files and read everything you’ve ever written.” He voice softened. “I think they both fell in love with you through your writing.”

  “There’s no accounting for taste,” she parried wryly. Casey twisted around in her seat, her green eyes studying his craggy features. “You seem quite impressed with Mr. Marshall.”

  “He’s very unimposing, very natural, and very easy to get along with. They are just plain folk. He’s got a big family and they’re all involved in the business.”

  “Plain folk?” She mocked when Matt turned the low-slung sports car into the underground parking garage of one of Boston’s most expensive condo high-rises.

  He grinned at her, downshifted the car and waited while the security guard opened the gates. “I’m glad you’re back. I’ve missed you. Did you stop at your apartment and see Tina?”