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

by CJ Roberts

  “How can I know if there’s a tracking tool on my phone?”

  Lauren held out her hand and he gave her the phone. “If it’s an authorized tool, it’ll be in your applications folder or even on your home screen. But if it’s real spyware, it won’t show up anywhere.” She expertly navigated through the menus. “You do have a couple location-based applications including Family Map. I can uninstall them, if you want. Doesn’t mean there’s nothing stealth though.”

  Nic caught the glum expression on his friends’ faces. “Hey, you two. Don’t look so disappointed.” He forced optimism into his tone. “This might be a good thing. If there is a spy app on my phone, it’s a direct link to the stalker. The detectives can use it to hunt the stalker down. And maybe your ex will come through with some useful information that will make all the pieces of the puzzle fit.”

  “Right. And let’s not forget your fan mail.” A grin broke out on Kaden’s face. “There’s always the off-chance the cops will find something interesting in one of those letters.”

  Nic’s fan mail! Oh God. If the police found the letter Lauren had written to Nic a couple years ago, she’d die. He was in his office talking on the phone with Vivian about the location shoot for his upcoming movie, At Last. She had the living room to herself, to pace. She cringed. Her letter had described, in graphic detail, one of her Nic The Lover fantasies. What had she been thinking sending him that? With any luck, the police wouldn’t go back more than a year, and her guilty secret would stay hidden.

  The trill of her cell phone interrupted her self-flagellation.

  “Ms. James? This is Helen Combs. I’m the assistant to the editor at Vanity Fair magazine. Vivian Carmichael sent us some photos you took of Nic The Lover. We’re very interested in your work.”

  Lauren sucked in big gulps of air and sat down on the couch before she fell down. “You are? I mean, that’s great.” Pull yourself together. This is the chance of a lifetime.

  Helen chuckled. “Your style is fresh, and that’s what we need. We’re relaunching the magazine with a new look in a couple of months, and we think your photographs will suit our new approach.”

  Lauren could barely believe her ears. Forcing herself to speak in a calm voice, she said, “A relaunch? That sounds exciting.”

  “We think it would be even more exciting with you on board. But first we’d like to see more of your work. Do you have a portfolio you could send over?”

  “Digital or hard copy?”

  “Digital’s good. Our executive committee will review it and make a decision.” Helen gave Lauren her email address and promised to get back to her in a couple of days.

  Lauren’s heart threatened to pound through the walls of her chest. This was it! Her career was finally taking off, and she owed it all to Nic. She couldn’t wait for him to finish his work so she could tell him Vanity Fair wanted to buy some photos from their photo shoot. While she was waiting for him, she’d send off her portfolio. She flew up the stairs to the bedroom, grabbed her laptop, and flopped onto the bed.

  Lauren James, freelance photographer. It had a certain ring to it, if she did say so herself. Lauren Lamoureux freelance photographer, well, that sounded even better. No. She scolded herself for acting like a lovesick teenager. Don’t go there.

  After rummaging through the side pockets of her shorts, she pulled out the paper where she’d written Ms. Combs email address. She addressed the email, attached her portfolio, and added what she hoped was a professional sounding note. Holding her breath, she positioned the mouse over the send button, squeezed her eyes shut, and said a prayer before she clicked. Then she opened her eyes and let out her breath in a puff of air. She’d done it.

  Relaxing against the mountain of pillows on Nic’s bed, she imagined what her life could be like if this worked out. She’d splurge a little and get better equipment. Jason would get a new bike, and they could get rid of the rusted one they’d bought at a yard sale last year. And maybe, she could finally afford to rent a better apartment or even buy a small house.

  The notes of a beautiful song intruded into her thoughts. She turned her head toward the music. It was coming from Nic’s cell phone lying on his nightstand. The singer’s voice was gruff, mournful. Straining, she made out a few of the lyrics; something about the heavens falling. Curious, she crawled over to Nic’s side of the bed and picked up the phone to check the caller ID. The display showed: Rachel Cell.

  Who was Rachel? The lyrics weren’t familiar but maybe if she had the full song…. Reaching for her laptop, she pulled up the search engine and typed in what she remembered. She read the first hit. Rachel’s ringtone was Sister by Dave Matthews Band. Thinking back to their year together in high school, she tried to recall if she’d ever heard any mention of Nic having a sister.

  When she shifted into a more comfortable position, she landed on something hard. She pulled out the offending object only to discover she’d sat on Nic’s phone. Footsteps in the hall warned her that someone was coming. Quickly, she leaned over to put it back on the nightstand.

  “Now that’s a sight I’ll never get enough of,” a rough voice said behind her. She flipped her hair out of her eyes and glanced at the door. Nic stood, arms crossed, studiously examining her prominently displayed butt.

  Images of their first night together flashed in her mind, making her blush. It had felt so good having him pound into her from behind. Like a cat, she arched her back, hoping to entice him. If she’d had a tail, she’d have waved it, high in the air.

  He closed the distance between them with big steps. Within moments he was kneeling behind her on the bed. His hands, warm and firm, cupped her butt. She purred. He groaned, and skimmed his fingers to her hips, yanking her against him. When her butt met his groin, she moaned and clawed the bedspread. The phone clattered onto the wood floor. “What was that?” he asked.

  “Your phone,” she answered without thinking, her concentration fully on the feel of his hot, hard cock sliding between her butt cheeks. Only a few miserable layers of clothing separated her from heaven.

  “Did I get a call?”

  Resigned, she let herself fall face first on the bed. The wildcat sex was going to have to wait. Besides, she had news to tell him. “Yeah, it rang. I was going to bring it to you.” Sliding off the bed, she picked up the phone and handed it to him. He checked the display and then slipped it into his pocket. “You’re not going to call her back?”

  “Her?”

  Uh-oh. So much for subtlety. Before she could chicken out, she blurted the question she really wanted answered. “Nic, who’s Rachel?”

  16

  Lauren could actually see the blood draining from Nic’s face. His features tightened and all trace of desire left his eyes. His reaction scared her. Maybe she’d been all wrong about Nic. Maybe there was no sister. If he wasn’t the man she thought he was, she had to know.

  “Come on, Nic. Last night I shared something very private with you. Trust is a two-way street.”

  Something flashed in the depths of his eyes and he dropped his head. “Rachel’s my little sister.”

  So, she’d been right about that. Thank God. A sister was the least worrisome of all the possibilities that had run through her mind. “I didn’t know you had any siblings. Does she live with your mother?”

  He shook his head. “Our mother died two years ago.”

  “Oh, right. I’m sorry.” Last night, he’d told her his father suffered from depression. Maybe Rachel was their father’s caretaker? That would explain the guilt emanating from him in waves. “She takes care of your father?”

  “He’s dead too. He died ten years ago.”

  Lauren’s eyes widened. “I’m so sorry. You’re so young to have already lost both your parents. It’s just the two of you, then?” He nodded, making the reasons for his protectiveness clear. But not why he kept her so secret. “How come I’ve never heard of her before?”

  Nic sat down on the edge of the bed and let out a heavy sigh. His eyes sh
immered with tears. Whatever he was going to say wouldn’t be good. She sat down and put an arm around his shoulders. “You can trust me.”

  He cleared his throat, but his voice was still rough when he answered. “Rachel was partially paralyzed in an accident. The only way she can walk is with leg braces and crutches.” Nic turned his ravaged face toward her. “Do you understand why I don’t want the paparazzi anywhere near her?”

  Lauren swallowed and rested her head on his shoulder. “Of course, I do.” If the entertainment rags got a hold of this information, they’d stake out Rachel’s home to get shots of Nic The Lover’s Paralyzed Sister. They’d dredge up every detail of what was no doubt a very sad story.

  He gave her a quick kiss, more of a peck really, then stood up. His back to her, he said, “We’ll need to leave for the fundraiser in about two hours.”

  For several moments after he left the room, she remained on the edge of the bed. He hadn’t told her the whole story. Too much pain and guilt lingered in his eyes.

  Retrieving her laptop, she opened up the folder containing scans of photos she’d taken in high school. Most were of Nic, but she’d also captured some of the crowd at various sporting events. Maybe one of the pictures showed Nic’s family.

  After going through several photos, she found one of Nic carrying a pretty young girl on his shoulders. The girl shared Nic’s coloring and bone structure. Sporting a pink tutu, she appeared to be about eight or nine. When their father died, she would have been twelve. No wonder Nic acted so protective of her; he’d practically raised her.

  The accident had probably happened sometime between when she’d taken the photo and when Nic’s family had left Chicago. She did a quick search on Google of accidents with injuries in the Northwest suburbs between those dates. Bingo. An article in the Daily Herald noted that a car had skidded off the road in bad weather and plowed into a bank of trees. A badly injured child had been rushed to the hospital. No names were printed in the article, which probably meant the occupants were minors.

  She searched some more but learned nothing new. Her father might be able to help. Even if he didn’t remember, maybe some of his buddies did. She grabbed her phone and punched in her parents’ number. Seconds later, her father greeted her in his familiar deep voice. “How’re you doing, Baby Girl?”

  “Dad,” she whined playfully. He’d been calling her Baby Girl since the day she’d gotten her first boyfriend, and the whine had become a part of their ritual.

  He laughed. “Seriously, how are you?”

  “I’m fine, Dad. How’s Jason behaving?”

  “He’s doing good. No broken bones or furniture.”

  Hearing the smile in his voice, she joked, “Give it a few more days. I wanted to ask you something. When I was in eleventh grade, do you remember any of my classmates being involved in a car accident? At least one of the passengers would have been seriously injured.”

  “Can’t say that I do.”

  “I found an article about it in the Daily Herald, but the details were sketchy. Could you ask your buddies on the force?”

  “What’s this about, Lauren?”

  “Nic told me his sister was injured, but he didn’t tell me how. I think it has something to do with why his family left town before the end of the school year. Anyway, I want to know what happened.”

  “Did you ask him?”

  “We talked,” she said, hesitating.

  “I’ll check, but I won’t tell you anything that isn’t public record.”

  “That’s fair. Is Jason around?”

  “Sure, he’s right here.” She heard the scuffling sound of the phone being passed to him.

  “Mom?”

  At the sound of her son’s voice, she felt a pang in her heart. They’d spoken every day, but still she missed him. “Sweetheart, how was the Brookfield Zoo?”

  “The stingrays were awesome, but the meerkats were even awesomer. Can I get a one?”

  She laughed. “I’ll have to think about that.”

  “Mom?” he asked, his voice suddenly small. “Is Nic really doing okay?”

  His question surprised her. “I told you yesterday he was fine, remember?”

  “I wanted to be sure. Sometimes people look like they’re getting better, then they get sick again. Like last year when I got that ear infection.”

  “That does happen, but not this time. When I call you tomorrow, I’ll make sure Nic’s with me so you can talk to him.”

  “Why? We already talk every day.”

  Her brows shot up. “You do?”

  “Nic gave me his number in case I needed to talk to him. When he got out of the hospital, I called him. Now he calls me.”

  She leaned against the headboard for support, not sure how she felt about this relationship between her son and her boyfriend. What if things didn’t work out with Nic? Jason would be hurt. He’d lose a friend and he wouldn’t understand why.

  And what would happen to her if things didn’t work out with Nic? She’d be hurt and she would know why. The wall between them was as thick as ever. This torn, confused man she’d fallen in love with didn’t trust her enough to share Rachel’s story. Even after she’d bared her soul to him last night.

  She’d chinked the wall, but if she couldn’t break it down by the end of her vacation, Jason wouldn’t be the only one left devastated.

  “Remember,” Nic said, going over security details for the gala with Kaden. “Lauren’s safety is your top priority tonight.”

  Kaden’s brow creased. “Understood, but I don’t like it. You have your gun, right?”

  Nic patted the bulge under his arm. “Got it right here.” When Kaden was hired, he’d insisted Nic get a gun and learn to use it.

  Not wanting Lauren to worry, he’d gotten dressed and put on the shoulder holster while she’d been taking a shower. This baptism by fire into his world was going to be stressful enough for her. No need to add to it.

  Nic watched his bodyguard’s eyes drift over to the Harry Winston bag sitting on the desk. “You giving that to her tonight?”

  “That’s the plan. Why?”

  “Lauren’s pretty down-to-earth.”

  When he didn’t continue, Nic prompted, “And?”

  “And,” Kaden said, averting his eyes, “it’s none of my business, but I’ll say it anyway. A woman like Lauren might have second thoughts about wearing a necklace that costs roughly the GDP of a small country.”

  The man was right, but… “How would she even know how much I paid? It’s not like the price is on the box.”

  Kaden rolled his eyes and modulated his voice into a perfect imitation of Vivian at her snootiest. “Nic, darling,” he drawled. “Everyone knows that Harry Winston is the jeweler to the stars. And that most stars rent his jewels because even they can’t afford to buy them.”

  Nic had to laugh. “Fuck, that’s creepy.”

  “Creepy but true.”

  “You’re right, I need to downplay it.” He’d get rid of the packaging.

  After Kaden left to get ready, Nic turned his attention to the speech he needed to finalize for tonight’s event. As Wish Ambassador and host, it was his responsibility to encourage attendees to open their wallets beyond the thousands of dollars they’d already spent for their tables, so that more children with life-threatening illnesses could see their dreams come true. He’d bought three tables himself so some of the children could attend. Since the gala was at the California Science Center, the kids were sure to have a blast.

  Despite his desire to concentrate on the speech, his thoughts drifted to Lauren and their brief talk. She’d shared so much with him last night. He’d wanted to tell her about Rachel, about the accident. But his mouth had refused to form the words. She thought he was a “great guy.” And he didn’t want that to change.

  His chest ached as he imagined the hurt and disgust he’d see in her eyes when she found out the truth. Christ. He was no better than Todd when he re-upped without consulting her; he was decei
ving her too. Lauren had flat-out asked him about Rachel, about what had happened. But instead of owning up to the truth, he’d chickened out and told her only part of the story. The part that didn’t make him look like a total shit. Tossing tonight’s speech aside, he scrubbed his face.

  I was so angry and hurt that I started to hate Todd, to hate the man I’d loved for so long.

  He couldn’t get her words out of his head. How long would it take for her to start hating him? Nic groaned. He didn’t stand a chance.

  I spent years comparing every man I met to you.

  How could she not feel betrayed when he finally revealed the truth? She’d put him on a very high pedestal, and the fall when she booted him off might kill him. And if the panic in his chest at the thought of losing Lauren was any indication, he had to accept the truth: he had fallen in love with her. In fact, he’d fallen in love with the same woman twice.

  Lauren shimmied into her new gown and stepped into the matching heels. The style of the dress demanded an up-do. She pulled a few pins from her makeup kit and twisted her hair into a loose bun, leaving a few wispy curls on either side of her face. Looking into the mirror, she sighed. The material draped her body perfectly, making her feel almost beautiful. She’d been raised middle-class and had never lacked for anything, but this outfit was a step beyond, almost magical in the way it transformed her from Miss Nobody to Miss Nic The Lover’s Date.

  Her hand rose to rest on her chest. Seeing the emptiness where the dog tags had lain for the last five years left an odd feeling in the pit of her stomach. Had she done the right thing? She’d broken her vow for Nic, a man who didn’t trust her fully. And if he didn’t trust her, could she trust him?

  Hearing Nic enter the room, she turned away from the mirror. The sight of him stopped her mid-step. It was incredibly bad manners to stare, but she did it anyway. The impeccably tailored black tuxedo molded his chest and broad shoulders, while the white dress shirt contrasted beautifully with his dark hair and tanned complexion. A gray silk waistcoat and matching bow tie completed the outfit, adding a fashionable twist. This was definitely not her father’s tux. Closing her eyes, she pictured herself smoothing her hands over his chest, the feel of the expensive material, the hardness of his muscles….