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

by CJ Roberts

  Nic’s tension drained out as she led the paparazzi into the hall and closed the door. With both palms, he rubbed his weary eyes. Too late, he remembered the camo paint. Great. Eyes burning, he turned to Lauren and gently grasped her shoulders. “Are you okay?”

  She nodded stiffly. Unsure whether he was okay, he dropped into the nearest chair and closed his eyes. His legs felt heavy, like he’d run a marathon.

  “Did you set this up?”

  His eyes snapped open. Lauren stood in front of him, fists on hips, eyes sparking, lush lips pulled back in a fierce grimace. Oh, yeah. Even spitting mad, she looked absolutely gorgeous. If only he weren’t so damn tired…

  “I have no idea how they found me. Sorry you had to deal with that.”

  “With what?” Lauren asked, her eyes blazing. “Being made into another one of your Paparazzi Girls or being the butt of their jokes?”

  He was the worst kind of shit. What had started out as a simple kiss for the camera had snowballed into so much more, because he’d enjoyed it.

  Because he’d enjoyed her.

  Because he’d wanted it to go on forever.

  Too bad getting involved with him could get her killed.

  Gazing at the photo in her hand, she caressed Nic’s strong jaw. This beautiful man was the only one for her. The only one who measured up. The only real man left in the world.

  Other men were weak imitations. The people in Hollywood knew it, too. And that’s why they tailor-made movies for him, showcasing the dark, dangerous man and the tender, sensuous lover. Like every alpha male, he needed an alpha female to keep him in line, and she was the perfect woman for the job.

  Nic was such a naughty boy. She ran her fingertip along his full lower lip and smiled. She’d have to keep punishing her bad boy until he learned his lesson. If sightings, texts, and surprise visits from the paparazzi didn’t work, she had no qualms about escalating the punishments, until he got her message. After all, she’d do anything—everything—for him.

  She laid the photograph down on the table, cocking her head to the side as she examined it from a different angle. She could hardly wait to have him all to herself, to have him wrap his strong arms around her and lose control. Sex with Nic The Lover would be wild and rough, just the way she liked it. All his fans wanted him, but only she could have him. She was his perfect match.

  Her lips curled into a tight smile. Yes, she would have him. One way or another. And anyone who got in her way? Her lips flattened and she slammed her fist onto the photograph. They’d live to regret it.

  Or not.

  Nic was nothing like Lauren had imagined. He wasn’t anything like she remembered either. He’d been cute in high school, but now he took her breath away.

  Lauren placed the photos she’d been reviewing on the side table and sank into the overstuffed wingback chair. Sighing with pleasure, she kicked off her shoes and stretched her legs out on the matching ottoman. The prize package of the photography contest included this elegantly appointed room that was easily as large as her entire apartment.

  Despite the warm weather, Lauren had lit the gas fireplace facing the king bed. The large picture window reflected the dancing flames and the lights of downtown D.C. It made an intriguing backdrop to the writing desk where she’d set up her laptop and portable photo printer. Returned, one of Nic’s movies, played with the volume turned low on a flat-screen television that put to shame the old set she had at home.

  She watched the movie for a few minutes, smiling as she recalled the first time she’d seen it. Several years after Todd died, her friends Sandra and Julie decided she needed a little adult time and invited her out for dinner. They’d extended the evening with a movie, and ended up seeing Returned. Her instant and fierce attraction to the film’s lead had scared and thrilled her. For the first time since Todd’s death, her body was responding to a man. She didn’t realize until later that Nicolas Lamoureux was the same Nic she’d gone to high school with. The same Nic she’d crushed on.

  The same Nic she still wanted.

  Seeing Todd’s dog tags around Nic’s neck had felt strange, but Todd was long dead. How many more years could she keep her life on hold for a man who’d never hold her again?

  Lauren picked up the first photo from the pile next to her and took note of the differences between today’s Nic and the Nic she’d known in eleventh grade. Even though they’d never exchanged more than a quick “hi” or “excuse me” as they’d crossed paths in the halls, she’d been shocked and confused by his family’s unexplained departure from the Chicago area.

  But that sweet, funny, slightly clumsy, seventeen-year-old was gone. The photo in her hand showed the successful, confident man he’d become. She ran her finger along the curve of his jaw, then across his full lips. Although she was upset with Nic, she was angrier that she’d let herself get carried away. The kiss had been everything she’d wanted, but like her fantasies, it hadn’t been real. Her face grew hot at the memory of raking her fingers through his silky hair as his mouth captured hers. She’d never taste cherry again without thinking of him. And it wasn’t like she needed any more reminders; he was in her dreams almost every night.

  She’d had no problems coming up with poses for Nic because she’d photographed him hundreds of times in her mind, clothed… and not. It didn’t matter that she’d never seen him naked, she had no trouble filling in the blanks to her satisfaction. Her stomach clenched and her fingers curled just thinking about how those dreams invariably ended.

  Eyes closed, she let the image form in her mind. Reinforced by the time she’d spent with him today, the fantasy was so vivid she could feel his hands slipping under her shirt. The heat emanating from him burned her as his hands skimmed up her stomach, cupping her breasts, rolling her nipples between his thumbs and forefingers.

  A shiver shook her shoulders. His hands drifted down her back, over her hips, tugging at her pajama bottoms and panties until she sat naked. He nudged her knees apart, slowly opening her up to his eyes. Her legs trembled and her belly quivered. When she dragged her eyes to his face and saw the desire, the lust, sharpening his features, she cried out. He leaned forward, and her hips rose to meet his mouth. As his warm, wet tongue plunged deep, his groan vibrated throughout her body.

  The phone on the nightstand rang, jarring her out of the fantasy. Jesus! Heart pounding, she tried to catch her breath. She pushed a lock of hair off her damp forehead and saw her hand was shaking. The throbbing between her legs and the feeling of emptiness shocked her. None of her previous fantasies had been this realistic. A quick downward glance confirmed that at least she was still wearing her pajama bottoms.

  Rising on quivering legs, she stumbled to answer the phone. With the three-hour time difference, it would only be eight back in Seattle. Jason was probably calling to wish her good night. She let out a deep breath, desperate to slow her rushing heart. Picking up the receiver, she prayed her voice sounded normal. “All ready for bed, honey?”

  “Absolutely,” replied a familiar voice.

  It was him. Her pulse accelerated and she hoped he couldn’t hear her panting. “I thought you were my son. Are you feeling better? You seemed to have no energy by the end of the shoot.”

  “I couldn’t keep my eyes open, even missed my flight back to L.A.” He paused and cleared his throat. “I acted like an asshole today, and I’d like to make it up to you. Can you have dinner with me tomorrow night?”

  Should she accept? He had acted like an ass. A really cute, really hot ass.

  When she didn’t answer, he continued. “The proofs you sent me are fantastic. Completely different from anything I’ve seen before. I’d like to discuss doing another photo shoot.”

  Giddiness bubbled in her chest at the compliment. He’d given her enough to fulfill the terms of the contract, but additional shots could be exactly what her career needed. “And the Paparazzi Kiss?”

  “Won’t happen again.”

  “Good, because I’m a photographer, no
t a fangirl.” Even as she said the words, Lauren rolled her eyes. Liar.

  They agreed to meet in the lobby around seven, which would give her plenty of time to post-edit today’s shots before their date… uh… meeting. She really needed to get a grip and forget her fantasies. Her career was on the line.

  Besides, Nic The Lover wasn’t interested in her. Even though she’d never forgotten him, he didn’t remember her. Obviously, she’d never starred in any of his fantasies. And she never would.

  Lauren was exactly the type of woman Nic had always liked, always wanted, but had never allowed himself to have. He rolled onto his back in the bed and stared at the hotel room ceiling. Working with Lauren yesterday had been fun. Kissing her had been amazing. But more than the feel of her generous curves flush against his body, the intelligence radiating from her eyes and her no-nonsense attitude had piqued his interest. When she’d leaned over him to adjust the knife, he’d wanted to roll her underneath him.

  Could he risk a relationship with Lauren? He usually dated tall, willowy women who looked good on camera. The less they had going on in the brains department the better. That way he could keep things light. Any relationship with Lauren would be serious.

  Someone knocked, but before he could call out, he heard the sound of the door opening. Damn. He must have forgotten to put the security lock on when he’d stumbled in yesterday. If the maid hoped to catch him naked—he glanced down and smirked—today was her lucky day.

  “Good morning, darling. Or, should I say good afternoon?”

  Shit. At the sound of Vivian’s voice, he lunged for the sheets that had drifted down during the night. “Did I forget another appointment?”

  When she’d checked him in, she must have gotten a key for herself. He’d called her on this many times, but she insisted that having a key to his room was the only way she could keep him on schedule. Still, he didn’t like it.

  He barely had time to scoot back against the headboard and tuck the sheets around himself before she rounded the corner and came into view. He slammed a pillow onto his lap and smiled tightly. Her gaze roamed over him and settled on the strategically placed pillow. Her lips curled. “You’re looking rather pained today.”

  “Ha-ha, very funny.”

  “Here, this should cheer you up. You made the front page of almost every tabloid in America.” She held out a newspaper. His knuckles grew white as he stared at the photo of him and Lauren in an impassioned embrace. He hadn’t realized how out of control he’d been.

  His eyes widened in disbelief as he skimmed the article. The reporter speculated that Lauren James, department store photographer, would do anything to further her career, including using Nic The Lover to get to the top. Christ. He’d used her, not the other way around. Everyone in Hollywood used someone and was used by someone.

  And he was no different.

  Like a stupid teenager, fueled by hormones and adrenaline, he’d let himself get carried away without a single thought to the consequences for her. Everyone expected the Paparazzi Kiss stunt, and women all over the country fought for the chance.

  But Lauren was different.

  She hadn’t wanted it. This kind of press could kill her career before it even began. Nic glared at Vivian. “Who tipped off the paparazzi?”

  “They picked it up from CelebrityStalker.com.”

  He rose from the bed, wrapping the sheet around his waist as he stepped through the French doors to the sitting area. “I’ll see who posted the information.” He sat on the couch and powered up his laptop.

  “Calm down, darling. I already checked.”

  “It was NicsBitch, wasn’t it?”

  Vivian sat beside him. “Yes, but that doesn’t tell us much. A lot of people knew about the photo shoot, including Rafael, Lauren, the festival organizers, and some hotel staff. Any one of them could have leaked the information. Anyway, no harm was done.”

  Was she for real? Didn’t she get the seriousness of the situation? The idea that this person had followed him, clear across the country, from L.A. to D.C., worried him, a lot.

  His skepticism must have shown on his face because she added, “Until this settles down, get Kaden to accompany you when you’re out in public. And we’ll keep a tight lid on your location to identify the source of any leaks.”

  “You’re in more danger than I am.”

  “I’ll be fine.” After patting his knee, she stood up. “Keep doing what I tell you and everything will be all right.”

  Huh? She was treating him like a fucking child. Nic gritted his teeth and stood to face her. “What the hell does that mean?”

  She glared at him. “It means you do the acting. I do everything else. I’ll handle this.”

  “I’m not the lost teenager you knew ten years ago.”

  “I’m aware of that.” Vivian’s voice was barely above a whisper.

  Nic raked a hand through his hair and scrubbed at the stubble on his cheeks. Why was he yelling at her? She’d been like a mother to him, and she was only trying to help. “Sorry. This situation’s getting to me.”

  “You’ll be fine once you’re back home.”

  “About that. I need a break.” He tightened the sheet around his waist.

  Vivian peered at him, concern etched in her features. “A vacation? What a fabulous idea. I’ll book us a couple rooms at this wonderful little resort I know in Acapulco.”

  Shit. His gut cramped and he rubbed his stomach. “I’m still not fully recovered from whatever hit me yesterday. I just want to stay here for a few days and relax. Maybe grab a beer with some buddies.”

  “I’ll make the arrangements. Now get some rest.” She patted his cheek, before turning to leave. “I’ll drop by later this evening.”

  When the door closed behind her, Nic fell back onto the couch and let out a tired sigh. If he could, he’d leave all this behind and go home to the ranch and Rachel. Every time he had to fake smiles for the paparazzi, he felt like grabbing their cameras and smashing them on the ground.

  But even though he was sick of Hollywood and the madness surrounding the movie industry, he needed to make movies, big blockbuster movies so he could make loads of money. He was an actor, wasn’t he? Every damn minute of every damn day.

  Nic The Lover Lamoureux didn’t make movies for the love of acting. He did it to secure the ranch and ensure Rachel’s future. For her he’d sacrificed everything.

  Even his own happiness.

  Tonight, he’d have dinner with Lauren to discuss business. Tomorrow, they’d finish the photo shoot. Then he’d fly back to L.A. And never see Lauren again. Excellent plan.

  Yeah. It was great. So why did he feel like shit?

  3

  Lauren couldn’t tear her eyes from the front-page photo of her and Nic locked in a heated embrace. As she read the accompanying article, her cheeks burned and anger replaced shock. Her dreams of a better future for her son flashed before her eyes.

  No matter how much she wanted to slink home with her tail between her legs, she had to grow a spine. Jason deserved better than what she could give him with her small pension and meager salary.

  She had to hope that when Vivian released the photos Lauren had taken of Nic, people would recognize her talent. Her fresh and riveting poses captured the essence of the dark, brooding, sexy hero. She needed someone to give her a break, to give her a chance to show what she was capable of doing. The article couldn’t be further from the truth. She hadn’t even kissed another man since Todd died.

  Except for Nic.

  And, although he had rocked her world, it was hardly front-page news. The doorbell rang, making her heart race. Were the paparazzi here to hound her?

  Get a grip. You’re a department store photographer, not a movie star.

  The photo had made the news because of Nic, not her. The paparazzi were probably camped in front of his door right now.

  “Flower delivery for Lauren James.”

  Who would send her flowers? After a glance through t
he peephole, she opened the door. A delivery man juggled a pad and a large bouquet of apple blossoms and miniature yellow roses, barely managing to hold onto both. “Are you sure this isn’t a mistake?”

  He handed her a delivery slip and pointed to her name. After signing the receipt, she handed him a few dollars tip. The door banged shut as she read the card she’d plucked from the buds.

  Ma chère Lauren,

  By now, you’ve seen the photo in the papers. Please believe I never meant to hurt you. I hope you aren’t too angry to have dinner with me this evening.

  They had to share the blame for this fiasco. Although maybe it was his fault for being such a damn good kisser. Her chest tightened as she finished reading the note.

  Give me a chance to make it up to you. I’ll be waiting in the lobby.

  Nic

  Like her, all he wanted was a chance. How could she refuse to hear him out? After a third reading of the note, the sweet scent of apple blossoms distracted her. She pulled a sprig out of the bouquet, gently cupped the fragile blooms in her hand, and inhaled deeply. How had Nic discovered her love of apple blossoms? Even after years of marriage, Todd hadn’t.

  Nic was more like the boy she’d known in high school than he let on. The note showed sensitivity and an endearing vulnerability that drew her to him now as it had drawn her to him then. Did anyone really get over their first crush?

  Her spirits buoyed by the note and flowers, Lauren turned on the radio and danced her way to the closet. She changed into a light gray business suit and pink sleeveless turtleneck sweater. Julie had dragged her to a boutique, insisting that if she wanted to be taken seriously as a photographer and a business woman, she needed to look the part. And Julie had been right. The feminine cut of the jacket molded Lauren’s curves beautifully and defined the indent of her waist, resulting in a perfect mix of professionalism and sophistication. Her mood lightened even further as she sprayed on some DKNY perfume.