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

by CJ Roberts

  She clinked her glass against his bottle, and they drank to the toast. “To new friends,” she said, raising her glass again. After they’d finished their drinks, Nic asked Summer to dance. He led her through the throng to the dance floor. The rock music was fast and the rhythm strong. People flowed around him and more than a few hands brushed his body. When a slow song began to play, he started for their table, but Summer held onto his arm. “One more?”

  From the corner of his eye, he saw several members of the paparazzi lift up their cameras. Time to give them what they wanted. He pulled her into the circle of his arms, and together, they swayed to the beat.

  Vivian had been right; they did look good together. By tomorrow morning, they’d be number one on the Hottest Hollywood Couples list. What would the entertainment shows call them? Nummer? Sumic? Sic? He buried his face in her hair to hide his snicker. They were definitely not a match made in heaven.

  Nauren? Nic The Lauren? Lic? Now that had possibilities.

  Summer must have thought he was nuzzling her neck because she slapped her hand on his ass and yanked his hips against hers so they were pressed together, from shoulder to thigh. Placing one arm at her waist and a hand behind her neck, he twisted her body, arching her over his arm. Then he swooped in for a camera-perfect Paparazzi Kiss. Right before their lips touched, something gleamed in her eyes. Happiness? Triumph?

  The crowd whooped and cheered, and lights flashed from a multitude of cameras. His job here was done. With a flourish, he pulled her up and kissed the knuckles of her hand before leading her back to their table. “I’ll get us some refills,” he said when she sat down.

  She nodded and pulled a cell phone out of her purse.

  The idiot was supposed to have reported in twenty minutes ago. When the phone on her desk finally rang, she snatched it up. “Where are you? What’s happening?”

  “I did what you asked.”

  “Did the paparazzi get photos?”

  “Sort of.”

  “Remember what I said. Keep it simple, keep it clean. If you play this right, I’ll get you what you want.”

  “The female lead in Alone No More?”

  She fought to keep from laughing. The only starring role a no-talent bitch like her could ever get would be in some porn flick named Summer of Sixty-Nine. “Absolutely. You get the job done and it’s yours.”

  “Awesome. I’ve got the perfect plan.”

  She stiffened. “What are you up to?”

  “He’s coming. I’ve got to go.”

  “Summer!” The phone clicked in her ear. After slamming the receiver down, she shot out of her seat and began to pace the room. All she’d asked Summer to do was get Nic to go out with her a few times and have the paparazzi take some photos so everyone would forget about the stupid photographer. How hard could it be?

  If the crazy bitch fucked this up, she’d die.

  When Nic returned, Summer was still on the phone. He set the drinks down and signaled to her that he was going to the restroom. He was hot and sweaty, and the cool air of the back hall was a welcome relief. After using the facilities, he headed back to join Summer and have his second and last beer. Since an embarrassing high school incident when he’d mooned the cute girl from the school paper, he maintained a strict two-drink limit.

  Summer had finished her call and sat sipping her daiquiri.

  “Having fun?”

  She smiled. “Yeah. You?”

  Strangely, in some ways, he was. At least here, Lauren intruded on his thoughts only every three minutes instead of every two. He curved his lips into a half smile. “This was a good idea.”

  All the dancing and the heat in the crowded room had left him parched. He downed half his beer in one swallow. “When you called me, you mentioned you were up for a role?”

  At his words, her face brightened and her eyes sparkled. “I’m being considered for a part in Alone No More.”

  “I’ve read the script and it sounds like a hit. What part are you up for?”

  “The lead—Shauna.”

  Nic choked on his beer. “Shauna?” No fucking way. The role was difficult. Unless he was way off base, Summer could never land such a part.

  She nodded. “Hey, didn’t I hear you were offered the male lead—Jamie?”

  “Yeah.” But he’d turn it down flat if she was playing Shauna.

  “Maybe we’ll be working together.” Nic hid his grimace behind the lip of his beer bottle. Summer practically vibrated with enthusiasm. He, on the other hand, felt slightly nauseated.

  Desperate to get off the subject of Alone No More, he asked what other roles she’d had. He hadn’t met a starlet yet not thrilled to regale him with her full pedigree.

  “A little of this and that.”

  Nic blinked. She believed she was going to get the lead in a hit movie and she couldn’t name even one prior part? He angled his head and took a good look at her—was she a porn star? She had the body—and the name—for it. He resisted the urge to laugh. Wouldn’t it be priceless if Vivian, so eager to protect his image, had set him up with a porn star?

  After some time, a hand shook his shoulder. What was with him? He’d just been sitting here, staring, unmoving. Shrugging, he tried to get rid of the underwater feeling. Christ. He couldn’t be drunk on only two beers. “What the hell is in these drinks?”

  Summer blinked. “You’re probably just tired.”

  “Maybe.” But he didn’t think so. Using all his concentration, he reached into his back pocket to get his phone.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Ima call Viv.”

  She grabbed his hand. “No.” He tried to cock his eyebrow, but it wouldn’t obey. And his eyes wouldn’t stay focused. “I’ll drive you home, but first…” She scooted her chair closer to his and wrapped her arm around his neck. “For the callback, I have to do a romantic scene.”

  “A womance scene?” What the fuck? He sounded like Elmer Fudd. He rolled his shoulders a few times to relax. Or rather, he tried.

  “Shauna seduces Jamie.” She cradled his cheek and looked into his eyes. “Tell me if this works.” Then she pressed her lips against his, thrusting her tongue in his mouth. As she deepened the kiss, he tried to push her off. But all he managed to do was hold onto her arms. He felt disconnected, as if he were watching himself being kissed on screen or in a dream.

  She slipped off her chair and swung her leg over his thighs, straddling him. “Put your arms around me,” she whispered, positioning his hands at her back.

  Why was he going along with this? He didn’t want to, but his body wasn’t responding to his directions. Something was wrong. Seriously wrong.

  “This is a Paparazzi Kiss,” she said. “See the cameras? After they take a few pictures, I’ll take you home, okay?” He hated the professional way she undulated on his lap and rubbed her hard breasts against his chest. He wanted to push her away, to get away. But he couldn’t. At least the paparazzi were getting an eyeful, and there’d be another fabulous front-page photo of him.

  The stalker would be happy.

  And Lauren would be hurt.

  Nic woke to a world of pain. Shards of glass stabbed his eyeballs with each pulsing throb of a headache that blotted out all else.

  Christ, kill me now.

  Just as the pounding reached unbearable proportions, it stopped. Maybe he’d feel more human with a few extra hours of sleep. He drifted back into oblivion.

  Bang, bang, bang!

  What the fuck was making so much noise?

  He tried to grab the pillow to bury his face in it, but his arms refused to obey. Had he fallen asleep on them, and they’d gone numb? Someone was calling his name. He managed to crack open one eye and was relieved to find himself in his bedroom.

  Until the room began to spin.

  When he heard a loud crash, a spike threatened to pierce his skull and split it in two. The overwhelming pain induced a nausea so immediate he barely managed to turn his head before vomiting. He groane
d and remained with his head angled over the edge of the bed.

  The mattress dipped, jostling him. He opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out.

  “Poor darling. What have you done to yourself?” Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Vivian grab something off the floor. With a gentle hand, she turned his head. “Darling, I’m going to wipe you off a bit.” Something soft rubbed against his bare chest. Strange. He didn’t remember getting undressed. Hell, he didn’t even remember coming home.

  Vivian left, but within moments, she returned and began cleaning his face with something wet. His tongue seemed to fill the entire cavern of his mouth, but at least he wasn’t covered in puke anymore. What the fuck had he done last night?

  A glass pressed against his parched lips. “Only a little,” she said softly.

  Unfortunately, even the small sip he took unsettled his stomach. The coolness of the towel on his forehead and short rapid breaths helped keep the nausea down, but nothing helped make sense of what was happening. He forced his eyes open and focused on Vivian’s face.

  Oh God. He shouldn’t have done that.

  Her head was whipping from side to side like some sort of video loopback. Over and over and over… His stomach revolted. As he began heaving, Vivian rolled him onto his side.

  “I’m calling 911.”

  He tried to listen as Vivian made the call. But images raced through his mind and even with his eyes closed, his head swam.

  Suddenly, the swirling memories cleared and what remained was an image of Lauren. They were in his room and he was seeing her from below as if she were straddling him. Her hair covered the tops of her breasts and he reached up to push it over her shoulders.

  His hands slid down to cradle her breasts, bringing them together in an offering to his mouth. He moaned and called out, “Oh God. Lauren.”

  The images began to swirl again, an endless vortex. Memories of Vivian interspersed with snapshots of Lauren in his bed and Summer at the bar.

  God help him, he was losing his mind.

  “It’s okay, darling. I’m here,” a voice said. It was Vivian, not Lauren. Yes, Vivian was here; Lauren was safe at home in Seattle.

  Vivian pressed against his back, her arm around his waist as she ran a comforting hand through his hair. “The EMTs are on their way.”

  Several minutes later, there was more pounding. Nic moaned.

  Vivian called out, “We’re in here.”

  He felt her move away as she murmured, “The EMTs are here now.”

  Thank God. If they could make the god-awful pounding in his head go away, maybe he’d stop throwing up. Heavy boots clumped on the wood floors. A man’s voice rang in his ear, then a warm hand touched his neck.

  “His pulse is fast. How long’s he been vomiting, ma’am?” Too sick to care, too weak to look, Nic could only imagine the mess that had prompted the EMT’s question.

  “I’m not sure. But he’s thrown up twice since I got here. What’s wrong with him?” Even in his current state, he heard the distress in her voice. What had he done?

  “Let’s have a look.” As the lethargy began to pull him under once more, strong hands gripped his shoulders and, with surprising gentleness, rolled him onto his back. Through the slits of his half-open eyes, he made out the blurry face of a large black man. Something slid around his arm and squeezed it. “Blood pressure’s low. I smell beer on your breath, sir. Have you been drinking? Taking any drugs?”

  He licked his lips and tried to answer, “Ownwwee twoooo.”

  “Nic doesn’t do drugs and he has a strict two-drink limit,” Vivian said. He wanted to say thank you or smile at her, but doing either would take more energy than he had.

  The EMT gripped his chin and shined a strong light in his eyes. “Speech is heavily slurred and pupils are dilated.”

  The flash of light caused Nic’s stomach to heave. “Easy there.” The EMT rolled him onto his side yet again. A cool metal trash can pressed against his cheek.

  “Jenn, let’s bring him in.” The EMT must have been talking to his partner.

  Nic heard her say, “Dispatch, this is unit twelve. We have a white male, about 6’3”, 200 lbs. Pupils are dilated, pressure’s low, rapid breathing, awake but unresponsive, repeated vomiting.”

  “What’s your ETA, unit twelve?”

  “Fourteen minutes.”

  The EMTs lifted Nic onto a hard flat surface and wheeled him out of the room. He heard Vivian telling him he’d be okay. Then everything went dark.

  Lauren loved to start her day watching Entertainment Buzz. She got a kick out of all the silly Hollywood news. And of course, she eagerly ate up any tidbit on Nic.

  But not today. Today, she sat frozen as a picture of Nic flashed onto the TV screen again, and the reporter from Entertainment Buzz rehashed their top story.

  “Nic The Lover Lamoureux has been admitted in serious condition to Cedars-Sinai Medical Center, where he arrived by ambulance. There are reports that he was seen last evening at a local celebrity hangout with starlet Summer Rayne, who also accompanied him to his Grauman’s footprint ceremony last week. In photos taken last night, Mr. Lamoureux appeared intoxicated and out of control. Is this yet another drug overdose by a Hollywood actor in his prime? We’ll continue to update you as this story unfolds.”

  Nic was intoxicated?

  That couldn’t be right. He wouldn’t risk his career, his life, for the temporary euphoria of drugs or alcohol. None of this made any sense. Could it be another Paparazzi Kiss that got out of hand? The press had a way of making things seem worse than they really were. She knew that.

  Her phone rang. When she saw Nic’s caller ID, a mix of hope and adrenaline shot through her body. Maybe there’d been a mistake. Her heart pounding in her ears, she grabbed the phone. “Nic?”

  “Hello?” a gruff male voice said at the same time. Definitely not Nic. “Ms. James, I’m Kaden Christiansen, Mr. Lamoureux’s bodyguard.”

  “How is he? I heard he’d overdosed, but I don’t believe it.”

  “He’s still unconscious. Listen, Ms. James—”

  “Lauren, please.”

  “Lauren, I’m sorry to call you out of the blue like this. But I know some things happened when Nic was in Seattle. I think it would help the case if you came and talked with the police.” He paused. “I don’t know what’s going on between you and Nic or how serious it is, but last night when Nic and I spoke, he seemed very worried about you. At least if you were here, I could keep an eye on you. And it would reassure him to have you nearby.”

  Tears burned her eyes and she had to swallow past the ache in her throat before she could speak. “I’ll be there for him.” Even though Nic had asked her to stay away.

  After finishing the call, Lauren started packing. Jason came to sit on the bed. Fear etched his little face. His bottom lip trembled and his eyes were shiny with tears. “Mom, is Nic going to die?”

  She swallowed her own panic. Jason deserved honesty. “He’s very sick right now, sweetheart. But he’s strong, and as soon as the doctors figure out what’s wrong, they’ll make him better.”

  Sniffing back tears, she hugged him tightly. Even though Jason had been only three when Todd died, he still had occasional nightmares about it. Her own nightmares had stopped only when they’d been replaced by dreams of Nic. She couldn’t bear something happening to him, too.

  The time she and Jason had spent with him last weekend had been magical. She’d gotten to know the real Nic a little, and she’d give anything to spend more time with him. Her fantasies wouldn’t be enough anymore—she needed the real man.

  Five hours later, Lauren stepped out, sticky and sweaty, of what had to be the only taxi in L.A. without air conditioning. Standing on the sidewalk in front of Cedars-Sinai, doubt took hold. Had she been stupid coming all the way to L.A.?

  “Ms. James, Lauren?”

  She turned to see the tall blond bodyguard from the footprint ceremony. Obviously, he recognized her from the Paparazzi K
iss photo. At least it had been good for something. A blush colored her cheeks. “Kaden, right?”

  After shaking his hand, she asked the question foremost on her mind. “Any change?”

  “Nic’s still out of it. The doctors are running more tests. They’ve eliminated alcohol poisoning and street drugs.” His jaw flexed. “Idiots. I told them they wouldn’t find anything.”

  Cameras flashed as a group of reporters rushed up and surrounded them. “Ms. James, are you and Nic involved?” asked one reporter, pushing his microphone in Lauren’s face.

  Kaden didn’t allow her to answer. “No comment.” He took her elbow and started for the entrance.

  Lauren hesitated. “Will the hospital personnel even let me in?” She gestured at the throng gathering out front. “I mean, how am I any different from all his other fans?”

  Kaden looked at her, a bemused expression on his face. Then he shook his head. “It won’t be a problem. Let’s go. Nic will want to see you when he wakes up.”

  Would he? Lauren wasn’t so certain.

  9

  Something soft caressing her cheek brought Lauren awake. She jerked her head off Nic’s hospital bed and froze. Despite the haggardness of his features and the paleness of his cheeks, his glorious smile brought tears to her eyes. Swallowing to ease the tightness in her throat, she smiled tremulously. “You’re awake. Thank God.”

  “How…” He cleared his throat and tried to speak again. “Water…” he managed to rasp.

  She poured him a glass of water from the pitcher on the bedside table and brought the straw to his mouth.

  He took a sip. “How long was I out?”

  Although his voice was still rough, it was the most beautiful sound Lauren had ever heard. The tears she’d been holding back spilled out. Without saying a word, he slowly opened his arms.

  Careful not to disturb the IV, she embraced him. As his warmth enveloped her, her tears turned to sobs.

  “Ça va, chérie,” he whispered in her ear as he held her tight and ran a hand through her hair. “I’m okay.”