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

by CJ Roberts

  As the agent “on floor,” Craig was called to the front to meet a potential client who’d wandered in off the street. The Stewart Realty downtown office was designed as sort of a decoy. From the street, it was set up to look like a small coffee shop, with an art gallery, occasional live music and classy, comfortable seating options scattered around the front room.

  The high ceilings were exposed to the rafters with expensive lighting designed to look haphazard and casual. The actual offices remained hidden in the back, behind the receptionist’s desk. Up front, flat screen TV’s stayed tuned to either news or sports, but smaller screens, visible from the sidewalk on a busy downtown street, displayed professional listing videos.

  Passersby were curious at first, but now that they understood it the office got all sorts of foot traffic, as people were encouraged to bring in their sack lunches and to open laptops in the space. The carefully selected realtors who populated the office were consummate yet understated sales people, knowing when to sit and chat and when to leave people alone.

  It was a groundbreaking concept in an age when more and more real estate offices were “virtual.” Aside from actually showing houses, most of the work could be done on a laptop creating reports, or on a smartphone setting appointments. At a time when most buyers found their realtor at a random open house or by sending an inquiry email from a listing on Realtor.com, finding ways to connect personally remained tough.

  So, why not create a place that the Stewarts knew would be a loss leader at first, but be somewhere potential clients would come to associate with an ultra-professional, upscale, boutique sales style? The relaxed and inviting space could even be rented out for private parties. It was not intended to generate a profit for about six or seven years but was already quickly becoming a well-established Ann Arbor entity.

  The very attractive receptionist was also a licensed realtor who knew when to hit the buzzer under her desk to summon the agent on call or when to let the people wander, sit, drink the free coffee or water and leave them alone. It worked. After four and a half years, it had become one of the top-producing offices in the formidable Stewart Realty Empire. An inordinate amount of luxury and super-luxury homes got listed and sold by the agents within it and Sara was no exception. The report she had been trying to generate would garner a listing the potential sellers had valued at two-point-five million, but at the moment, Sara was struggling to justify at just over half of that amount.

  As she rounded the corner and ran her hand down the wall where Jack had taken her that first night, Sara’s scalp prickled. She frowned, angry at the constricted feeling in her chest when she pictured his compelling face, inky black hair and deep blue eyes.

  Shaking her head to stop his image from rattling around inside her skull she turned the corner as Chris, the receptionist, headed the other way. The two women laughed when they nearly collided, and Sara couldn’t help but notice the admiring eyes of the young girl as she looked at Sara. Everybody must know about her and Jack. There was no way to keep secrets in their small community. And Jack had a big goddamned mouth, Sara knew, so likely had bragged far and wide about fucking her in the hallway, at the open house, and in his office.

  “Hey, Sara, can you come help Craig,” the young woman asked. “He’s about to sustain claw marks out here.”

  “Sure, but what can I do?” She peeked around the corner. Spying the young blond man who had every female in the office swooning seated next to an attractive older woman on one of the couches, she started to turn back and tell Chris that Craig could handle himself and needed to learn how to use his amazing good looks to his advantage. Then she saw the woman place a hand on Craig’s navy blue clad thigh. She saw him flinch and look straight at her, his eyes pleading for help.

  She stifled a giggle as Chris pushed her into the room. Craig stood, his knees hitting the table in front of him as the woman in the dark designer jeans and tight polo shirt that highlighted her ultra-toned form kept her eyes glued to his ass.

  “Darling,” he declared, holding out a hand for Sara and motioning with his head for her to come closer. She smiled and played along, taking his hand, letting him pull her close.

  “Carolyn, may I introduce you to my partner.” He leaned down and planted a surprisingly long kiss on Sara’s lips which she broke, uncomfortable with her reaction to it. “Soon to be my wife,” he said, looking at her.

  Sara glared into his deep brown eyes, but went along with the show. She turned to Carolyn, and put both arms around Craig’s slim hips, resting her head on his shoulder before releasing him and shaking the woman’s hand.

  “So pleased to meet you Carolyn,” she purred. “How can we help you?”

  The two of them giggled like a couple of middle school kids after waving at the woman’s retreating back. She’d signed a listing agreement with them for her million-dollar marital home in order to downsize into a three-quarters of a million dollar downtown condo. Craig pulled Sara in close, holding her, murmuring into her hair.

  “You are amazing.”

  Sara remained in the circle of his arms a minute longer before pulling away.

  “Yeah, gee, darling.” She held his arms and stared at him. “Nice one.”

  He shrugged and brushed his too-long blonde hair from his forehead.

  “Well, it was either get engaged to you, or let her rape me in the broom closet,” he admitted. Sara loved that he actually colored a little at that.

  Damn he was adorable.

  “I like my choice,” he said, his voice soft, still looking into her eyes.

  “So.” Sara broke the moment before she let herself get caught up. “Now that you have put ‘plan a wedding’ on my to-do list, can we please get back to my presentation dilemma.” She gestured to the back of the building.

  Craig opened the door for her leading to their work area. “You should know,” he said following her. “I have a bunch of nieces and they will all want to be flower girls.” Craig leaned on her cubicle entrance as she sat, trying to calm her breathing. She had work to do, and noticed she’d missed two calls and three texts. Mr. Office Popularity needed to let her get to it. She leaned back in her chair, crossing her legs while giving him a pained look.

  “Well you should know I have to figure out a way to let my brother be maid of honor,” she stated. “And he hates kids so keep them away from him.”

  She spun back around and faced her computer screen, loving the sound of his laughter and the friendly hand he placed on her shoulder. When he rolled his chair closer so he could study the screen with her, she caught a whiff of something on him, underneath the subtle scene of cologne. Unable to place it she flinched as he leaned in to punch a few keys, bringing up exactly the information she needed. His arm brushed her breasts, but she let it go.

  “Wow.” She stared at the screen now populated with the data and charts she had been struggling for an hour to create. Craig leaned back, his long arms behind his head. Sara drank in the sight of his wrinkled button down, navy blue trousers, blonde hair falling over one eye. Her heart sped back up.

  “Yeah, I rock,” he said, never taking his eyes from hers. Sara knew at that moment if he had reached out for her, she would have kissed him. An odd feeling. Not like the raw chemical response that Jack’s presence elicited. More like a comfortable moment when you suddenly decide an old friend would make a great lover. Craig merely sat, observing her, not coming any closer. Sara broke the connection when something occurred to her that she’d been meaning to ask him.

  “How does an adorable Southern boy like you end up in our little Midwestern paradise anyways?”

  Craig crossed his legs knee to ankle. Sara tried very hard not to observe how it stretched the fabric of his trousers over his crotch.

  “Oh, you know, the usual, father takes a promotion with large automotive company, moves family consisting of one angry seventeen year old boy because all of the other sons are in college.” He looked up at the ceiling. Sara stayed quiet.

 
“During my first year of college he had a massive heart attack. Dead before he hit the floor, apparently.” Sara put a hand over her mouth but Craig sat up, the look in his eyes somehow precluding any sympathetic commentary.

  “So, I dropped out of school to help my mom, because all my brothers had lives involving other people. I found a band to play in, sold motorcycles for some time, got my real estate license, enrolled in some classes at the U and hopefully next year can get back to school full time…maybe…haven’t decided yet really.” He grinned, reminding Sara how very adorable he was. Her brain did a quick calculation.

  “How old are you anyway?”

  Craig raised one eyebrow. “Old enough to drink.”

  “Well, thank God for that. Wouldn’t want anyone to take me for a cougar. Now, about this wedding…”

  A clatter of activity in the main hallway broke the moment. Several of their male colleagues walked by.

  “Hey Sara, Craig,” Rick called out. Sara winced. She’d actually gone out with him once. He’d been all over her from the beginning of their date like a damn octopus.

  “Yo, Richard,” a voice called out. “You win that golf outing last night?”

  “Nah.” Rick stopped to the left of her cubicle opening. “That bastard Gordon swooped in at the last minute and snagged it.”

  Sara looked up at the mention of Jack’s name, aware of Craig’s intense stare.

  The two men stood sipping their coffee beyond where Sara and Craig sat.

  “Jesus, did you see that chick on his arm?”

  “Yeah, what else is new? Gordon has the best tux, gets the best prices on the auction shit, and brings a super model for a date.” She shut her eyes.

  The other man laughed. Both were successful, as was required of this highly visible office and neither a slouch in the looks department. But Jack Gordon operated on a completely different plane. Having a few years as a title attorney, he’d seemingly pitched it all in to go “where the money was” selling real estate. Proficient in all aspects, including high-end commercial and with a builder’s license to boot, he had been their top seller for nearly ten years, and sold almost six-hundred-million dollars’ worth of land, houses, offices and retail space last year alone.

  “Yeah, that fucker,” the other man said, clapping his colleague on the back. “He was pretty lit by the end though, she was sort of holding him up, didn’t look too happy about it either.”

  “Well the guy never turns it off, you know?”

  “Yep, the phone was never out of his hand. I saw him at one point in the hallway back towards the head, leaning on the wall, and told him his date was looking for him. He shushed me up like he was hiding from her.”

  Sara gritted her teeth remembering the series of explicit sex texts she’d exchanged with the man in question last night. She laced her fingers together and held them tight. As if sensing her distress in some cosmic universe, Jack sent her a text then, causing her phone to rattle across her desk. She looked at it, then for some reason up at Craig, who shrugged his shoulders and walked out of her cubicle. Sara watched as her phone buzzed its way onto the floor.

  By the end of the day, she had worked herself into a frenzy of anxiety and distress. The man was nearly as good at making himself scarce as he was at showing up at inopportune moments. While New Sara yearned for his eyes, lips and hands, she kept rallying her inner Old Sara to remind herself that he was an egocentric, womanizing asshole. She owed it to herself to get as far as possible from him, stop all this nonsense; it was messing with her head. He could not be the answer. No matter the tiny voice that kept insisting that he would be, if she’d let him.

  He had certainly proven to be a valuable advisor lately with her more difficult transactions. She’d find herself faced with some dilemma and would automatically text or call Jack to get his perspective. The fact that she hadn’t given him any indication she wanted anything beyond his body and so had no place to complain drifted through her thoughts. He would offer advice, a laugh, top it with a pornographic suggestion or two then sign off.

  It took two to communicate, she knew. They were getting to be experts at dancing around emotion and cutting right to the real estate…or the physical. Sara was even getting used to the constant ache in her gut when she went longer than a couple of days without any contact with him. Now, knowing he had been with some “supermodel” of a woman last night she clenched her eyes shut.

  Oh crap, Sara, get a grip. He doesn’t owe you anything. You don’t know what you want anyway. How is that fair to him? Maybe you should focus on that instead.

  She rushed out of the office and made it home by six. Changing into running gear and strapping her iPod to her arm felt like positive steps to drown out the constant buzz of wondering what Jack was doing right then and with whom.

  The comforting strains of her warm-up reggae filled her ears. She dashed down the steps and stretched her hamstrings on the small front lawn, bending at the waist, legs spread wide. The realization that she was not alone as she slowly stood didn’t really surprise her. It seemed perfectly natural to meet Jack’s eyes as he hopped out of his car, dressed for a run, his smile wide at the sight of her ass up in the air.

  “Done with your sissy stretching yet?” He smacked her rear before taking off down the sidewalk. As she rolled her eyes and began to follow him, Sara let herself be pissed all over again at him for invading the one area of her life where she could be alone. She would not let him turn this into some sort of race. But the natural competitor in her got revved at the sight of him, far out in front.

  On his heels for the first two miles, she let the soundtrack of her favorite heavy rock music pounding in her ears propel her faster. Sara got up and over the wall she always hit at three miles and overtook him. The humid August evening held a hint of fall. The sweat poured off her but she felt strong – and utterly beyond caring where Jack was.

  As she turned a corner, headed back west and around the local high school Sara sensed Jack’s presence very near. She heard his breathing, which seemed annoyingly calm for a guy who’d semi-sprinted for a couple of miles behind her. The thought broke her concentration and her stride, and he overtook her.

  He touched her shoulder as they approached Pioneer Woods, the area of the school’s campus that was wooded and hilly, with cross-country trails threaded through it. She slowed and followed him as he crossed the fields onto one of the trails. They were near her six-mile mental barrier and still had to get back home. Traipsing around on paths didn’t sound like a good plan.

  But she would not let him beat her, not at this. He seemed at ease with his body’s running rhythm, a mere sheen of sweat across his brow, as if he could carry on for a marathon’s length. The indie rock music blaring in her ears provided her a bit of extra boost so she matched his pace and entered the cool shaded forest.

  She’d run the very same paths during her four years of high school cross-country practices. After completing the first mile and a half, he started slowing. She drafted him, grateful for the respite. Her heart pounded and her legs felt like jelly.

  Jack glanced back, slowed more and then stopped, which made her run right past him. She slowed, her breathing labored, arms flapping then turned. Jack stood in the middle of the path, hands on hips, chest heaving with exertion. Sara tried to square her reaction to his sudden halt and her own body’s adrenaline rush from the punishing run. Without preamble, Jack crossed the few feet between them, reached out and yanked her close, his mouth on hers. The kiss spoke volumes – both punishing and intoxicating.

  He walked her backwards, still kissing her, forcing her off the trail. Sara tasted salt and tried not to collapse in his arms. When she started to remove the ear buds from her ears, he stopped her.

  “No.” He motioned for her to keep them in and let the music play.

  He reached around and grabbed her ass, pulled her roughly against his body. Their tongues tangled, and Sara felt the familiar, Jack-inspired zinging sensations shooting through h
er. His aggression acted as an extreme aphrodisiac, and she met him halfway, fisting her hands in his damp hair.

  He worked them into a semi-secluded glen off the main trail and propped himself up against a giant tree trunk. His wicked smile nearly undid her as he released her hair from its holder, burying his hands in it, making her tilt her head back.

  Jack grasped the exposed skin of her neck with his lips and teeth, forced a thigh between her legs. Licking sweat, biting down on her jugular, tugging on her hair, he seemed to find every trigger she had by intuition.

  She gasped when he picked her up, then wrapped both legs around his waist and pressed against his erection, letting her visceral need for him take over. With the music pounded in her ears, his hands and mouth all over her, she started to move against him. She shut her brain down before it warned her about making out in public with him again. Her eyes popped open. Jack’s sapphire blues sparkled, dark with lust.

  This is absolutely crazy.

  She forced herself to slide down his body. He turned them, leaned her against a large tree, one with a notch between two trunks that allowed her to keep herself pressed against his upper thigh. He shoved her sports bra up and rolled a rock hard nipple between his fingers, making her groan and closing off the clamor of warning taking hold in her brain.

  His lips reached hers again and he shoved his leg farther between hers, giving her the contact she needed. She shuddered as he teased her. Her body moved, rubbing against his hard thigh, faster and faster.

  “Don’t come yet Sara. You know the rules.” That low, commanding voice made her shiver. “I’ll tell you when.”

  She gasped as he shoved some combination of fingers inside her, reaching up high, letting his thumb press against her clit. He pulled out then pressed back in, as he sucked one nipple then the other to hard, sensitive points. Sara thought if she looked at herself right now, she’d be glowing. When he had her, had his hands and lips on her, forcing pure energy through her nerve endings, it proved breathtaking, and addictive. Staying silent, she fisted her hands in his damp hair and shoved her hips against his hand.