by Rae Renzi
“Oh, no, Nocona and Justin are completely different.”
Now warm, moist kisses caressed Casey’s foot, then traveled from her heel to her toes, dwelling on the instep, then they stopped.
“Don’t stop,” Casey whispered.
Ditsy turned her head and gave Casey a look. “Don’t stop what?”
“Nothing, nothing. I just meant…”
The kisses started again, this time around her ankle. “I, uh, um, meant don’t stop…with one. Twins, twice the pleasure. A lot of pleasure.”
“Casey, that’s a little outré, even for me. Besides, Nocona has that…I don’t know. Something special.”
Casey made a huge effort to focus on Ditsy. A hand slid up her calf and squeezed it lovingly, then crept higher and higher between her thighs…
“Special, because he was smitten with you?” Casey asked, trying desperately to keep her train of thought from being derailed by the sensual madman beneath the bed. She squirmed backward a few important inches.
“That’s cold.”
Now Casey’s calf was being massaged, slow and deep. A rosy heat spread up her legs.
“But warm—I mean, wow—I mean true.”
Ditsy shrugged, as if suggesting the interest of one godlike man was enough for her.
“Actually, I am very, um, tired and want to go under the bed—I mean into bed.” Something deliciously wet and warm slid over her toes. And then, ever so gently, each was treated to a nibbling caress. It was bliss. “Unnhhh,” she added, squirming further back on the bed.
Ditsy gave Casey a sympathetic look. “I came up to see if Jack was in here by chance. Nocona is looking for him.”
Casey moaned softly, transported to ecstasy from the small little nibbles on her instep.
“Are you okay, Casey?”
“Yes, yes. I’m fine. Ecstatically fine. Just feeling squirmy, um, squeeze—I mean queasy. And hot.” She fanned herself with her hand.
“Well. I better get downstairs and tell Nocona I didn’t find Jack. Maybe he went home. Maybe he was disappointed because you didn’t stay to listen to his talk. You probably broke his heart—even if he is married. I mean, weren’t you tempted to run your hands over that gorgeous chest and that perfect butt, and his fantastic…”
“Good night, Ditsy,” Casey said loudly as warm, kneading fingers slid over her toes and up her ankle. “Go find…yum.” She gave up on coherent speech and melted back on the bed.
Fortunately Ditsy was halfway out the door and didn’t notice. The door swung shut. Almost.
“You cheat!” Casey rolled sideways to peer under the bed.
He slid out and kissed his way up her ankle to her calf. From her calf he worked around to inside her knees. He ran his hands up her thighs until they were dangerously close to…to…danger.
She sat up. “Stop!”
He grinned, unrepentant. Taking her hands, he crooned at her, “Don’t you want to run your hands over my—”
A click and a flash of light stopped him cold.
“Oh, I’m quite sure she does, Dylan,” drawled a voice from the doorway.
Chapter Thirty-Three
Casey snapped her head toward the voice. A petite woman with a lush tumble of dark hair stood holding a tiny camera in a manicured and bejeweled hand. Another click and flash. The woman smiled like a barracuda.
“In fact, interested parties might assume she already has, once they see these photos.” The woman eyed Casey up and down. “Though your choice of a playmate is disappointing. I thought it was the redhead. I don’t suppose it could be both?”
“We weren’t doing anything!” Casey said, too irritated to panic. She’d heard about the paparazzi and their complete disregard for the private lives of celebrities, but this was too much. “You—”
“Oh, I don’t know, sweetie. Looked pretty wanton to me. Dylan on his knees, you on the bed, your dress hiked up—I think most people might assume a little carnality happening here.”
“We were only talking, Ramona.” Jack looked sick.
Ramona. Casey’s stomach plunged. She examined the woman more closely, and recognized her as the woman who’d claimed Jack when they returned from the river. The woman wasn’t the press—she was his wife.
“Possibly, Dylan. But given the evidence, it’ll be hard to sell that to a jury, won’t it?” Ramona punched the keys on her cell phone and held it to her ear.
“You need a new hobby.” Jack’s eyes had gone flat, and his words were iron-cold and hard, but something in his manner suggested an inner tension, a chink in the armor.
“Oh, but this one is so much fun. I think we both know how this might play out. Your interesting past doesn’t leave you much wiggle room, does it?” She turned to the phone. “Hi Emma, it’s Mommy. Are you doing okay? Yes, well, I told you I’d call. Listen doll, your daddy’s here. You want to say hi to him?”
She handed Jack the phone. “Just a reminder of what you have to lose.”
The look of anguish on Jack’s face when he grabbed the phone removed any mystery behind his questionable behavior on the river. No wonder he’d wanted a reprieve from reality. No wonder he’d grasped at the relatively uncomplicated relationship they had on the river. Living with Ramona must be like negotiating a hornets’ nest naked.
Jack and Ramona stood near the door. Jack’s focus was entirely on his conversation with his daughter. Ramona stood nearby, eyeing him smugly.
Casey eased her cell phone off the nightstand and quickly sent Ditsy a text message, her fingers flying over the keys. Need U. My room now!
On my way.
Casey slumped in relief, then added take off 1 earring 1st.
A pause, then Right-o.
Casey quietly put down her phone and stood. Her movement drew Ramona’s gaze.
Jack was still on the phone. “We’ll be home in a little while, sweetheart. Maybe this weekend we’ll go see Uncle Nocona and Tesla,” he murmured, then smiled. “Okay, I promise. I love you. Bye.”
The look in his eye when he clicked the phone off was murderous. He turned to his wife, his voice almost a whisper. “Don’t you ever, ever use Emma like that again.”
Ramona held out her hand for her cell. “I don’t think you’re in a position to tell me what to do. As I said, I think any court of law would find this situation…interesting.” She mounted a bright smile.
With more bravado than she felt, Casey stepped forward and matched Ramona’s smile. “Gosh, you must be feeling kind of desperate to threaten your husband with this situation. I guess you can try to convince the court something illicit was going on between me and, uh, Dylan, but you know how it is—context is everything.”
“Hello, everyone.” Ditsy sauntered into the room. Her eyes flicked over Jack and Ramona. She raised an eyebrow at Casey. “Well, well, well, my dear, your salon has expanded in the, let’s see—” she held up her watch theatrically and noted the time, “—two or three odd minutes since I left here. Did you, I hope, find my earring? Bother, really, but it is worth a small fortune.”
Casey could have hugged her. “No, actually.” She glanced at Ramona. “Ditsy, this is Ramona, Dylan’s wife. She believes she’s just caught us in the act, so to speak, of adultery. She took a picture with her little camera.”
Ditsy grinned. “Oh, jolly good! And did she catch you in flagrante delicto and all that? Perhaps nice salacious photos of the dirty deed?”
Casey sighed theatrically. “No such luck. I believe she did get a photo of him under the bed looking for your earring.”
“Oh.” Ditsy was silent for a second, looking from Jack to Casey. Then she took off her remaining earring—a ruby studded hoop—and held it up. “Now, where did you say my earring was? That is, you weren’t using it in novel and interesting sex play were you?”
“No. I’m afraid we haven’t found it.”
“Oh, well. Pity. Although, I’m relieved in a way. A three-minute snog would be bound to be a disappointment, even with Dylan Raines. Especia
lly with Dylan Raines.” She took on a thoughtful look. “But, adultery, you say? What exactly qualifies as adultery? I’m a little unclear. Doesn’t it have to be sexual intercourse, such as actual—”
She held up her earring, and poked her finger through it a few times, her head tilted inquiringly at Ramona.
“Ditsy…”
“—or would kissing do? If that’s the case, then half the people downstairs are likely at this very moment transgressing like mad. The air in Los Angeles seems to have an energizing effect on lips. Or maybe kissing does count, but must be the wet kind, tongue and all? Perhaps you know, Ramona? Would that be grounds for your accusations? Because I’m ever so willing to help with that one, dearie.”
She launched herself at Jack and put a big wet kiss on his lips. Then she turned with a smile to Ramona, who watched Ditsy with an expression somewhere between wary attention and disbelief.
“How was that? You got a photo, I hope? Shall I give it another go, then?”
Jack looked like he didn’t know whether to laugh or run.
Ramona turned to Jack. “Very amusing, Dylan. We’ll see how funny you find it when you lose Emma.”
“Oh dear. A threat, or a reasonable facsimile thereof.” Ditsy eyed Ramona. “I must admit, I’m not an experienced gambler, but—”
“—that sounded an awful lot like a bluff,” Casey finished.
Ramona’s back stiffened. She turned slowly to Casey. “Perhaps. Perhaps not. You may not realize this, as you are obviously—” her eyes raked Casey’s disheveled form, “—not one of us, but in our world appearance is everything. I think this might be made to appear that the recently reformed Dylan Raines has fallen back into his shameful, decadent ways. After all, a tiger doesn’t change its stripes. The press would eat it up, wouldn’t they Dylan?”
Jack didn’t answer. He just looked ill.
Jack watched his wife get a glass from the cupboard. He’d waited the entire day for a news flash based on Ramona’s damning photo, but it hadn’t come. It wasn’t kindness on Ramona’s part—there would be a price.
Ramona poured a glass of mineral water. “I hope you appreciate my restraint in not feeding your little cutie to the press.” She turned to Jack, a viperous smile on her face. “It would be such a shame for her to lose her standing with the academic community—she is one of them, right?—over this trifling affair.”
“Oh, very altruistic of you, Ramona. What do you want?”
“Always the cynic, Dylan. I only want to do what’s best for us, dear.”
“And what exactly is best for us? I’m not really in the mood for sparring. Just give me the dollar amount.”
“Hey, you broke the rules, you have to pay the price—and it’s not necessarily money.”
Jack sat back in his chair. He’d meet her demands but he’d be damned if he’d provide entertainment as well.
When he didn’t respond to her jab, she said, “For starters, I think you’d better get dressed. You’ll take me to the Red Carpet benefit tonight.”
There wasn’t time for Jack to reach the twins, so he and Ramona attended the benefit without bodyguards. Jack had no doubt she’d arranged the whole scenario. The twins made her nervous.
Still, with or without the twins, Jack would further his own cause. They had barely cleared the red carpet when he grabbed her arm. “There are some people here that it’d be good for you to meet. Come on.”
He led her through the crowd to a weedy middle-aged man with glasses sliding down his nose. “William, this is my wife. She wants to get into acting on the big screen. I’m introducing her around. She hasn’t had much experience yet, but she’s a fast learner. Ramona, William Starkland, the director.”
“A pleasure to meet you,” Ramona said, acute embarrassment showing on her face.
After chatting for a couple of minutes, Jack said, “Well, good to see you, Will. We have other people for Ramona to meet. I’ll give you a call.” He pointed across the room. “Look, there’s Halford Coombs, the producer. You should meet him.” Snatching her hand, he started to drag her in that direction.
She resisted. “Wait a minute.”
“What’s the problem? We should take advantage of this scene—I’ll make sure people know you want to act. I’ll get you some more auditions, or maybe a part in one of my films. That is what you want, isn’t it? That’s why we’re here?”
“No…well, yes, but—”
“Hey, guys. What’s going on?” Another of his friends, the actor Trevor Blake, sauntered over, hands in pockets. His all-American face wore a catlike smile. “I heard Dylan got you a small part in a TV series, Ramona. Hope it works out for you.”
“He did not get me the part,” Ramona spit out. “I got it myself—he had nothing to do with it.”
“Yeah, sure.” Trevor grinned. “I’m sure the fact your husband is one of the top box-office draws in the country—no, make that the world—had absolutely nothing to do with it. I’m sure the possibility of a guest appearance by Dylan Raines didn’t even occur to them. Did anyone happen to mention your husband during auditions?”
Jack smothered a grin. He couldn’t have done better if he’d written the script himself.
Ramona gritted her teeth. “What happened at the audition is none of your business, Trevor. Dylan, I’m not feeling well. Let’s go.”
Jack lingered a moment after Ramona stormed away. “Nice.”
“Always glad to help a worthy cause,” Trevor said virtuously. “She’s such a bitch. No offense.”
“None taken.”
Chapter Thirty-Four
The specter of being tabloid fodder dogged Casey relentlessly, but by Monday morning no lurid newsprint articles had broadcasted the imminent divorce of Dylan Raines or detailed his illicit hotel-room tryst, so Casey started to relax. She was drinking room-service coffee from a silver pot when the hotel room phone rang. “Casey, it’s Justin. You remember me?”
“Yes…Jack’s brother. You’re not exactly the forgettable type, Justin.”
He chuckled. “Listen, if you’re not busy, how about if I come pick you up in about thirty minutes.”
As she hung up the phone, Casey ran several scenarios through her mind. From what little Justin had said, she didn’t think Jack had fallen prey to injury, disease or anything like that. Justin’s voice had been much too casual.
Had Ramona made good on her threat to expose Jack and Casey?
Her hands shook as she turned on the television and clicked through the news channels. Nothing.
By the time she showered and put on jeans and a clean white shirt, Justin called from the lobby. Casey spotted him before she got out of the elevator. He was leaning against a column in the lobby, hands in pockets, legs crossed at the ankles. He seemed unaware of, or possibly indifferent to, the number of women that ogled him as they walked by. Just as well. He had heartbreaker written all over him.
His face lit up when he saw Casey, which eased her mind. Surely he wouldn’t be so cheerful if a scandal involving Jack had hit the headlines. He pushed off from the column and sauntered over to her, then bent down and gave her a little kiss on the cheek.
“Brother’s privilege,” he said, smiling.
“It’s nice to see you, too, Justin.” It was impossible not to respond to his uncomplicated charm.
“I have a treat for you—I’m taking you to lunch, to a special place.” Justin leaned close to her and murmured, “It would probably not be a bad thing for us to act like a couple.”
Casey caught the warning look in Justin’s eye. “Oh. Right.” If Ramona had let out even a hint that trouble was afoot, there might well be a few enterprising individuals snooping around hoping to get a scoop.
Well, she wasn’t going to provide grist for the mill. Let them think she was smitten with Jack’s engaging brother, or bodyguard, whatever. It wasn’t a hard sell.
Casey stood on her toes and gave him a good solid kiss. “Like that?”
Justin tossed his head b
ack and laughed. “Yes, just like that, and as often as you like, too. Shall we go?”
This was the point where she should say no. Clearly and distinctly and with conviction, for she sensed that at the end of her journey with Justin, Jack awaited.
“Okay.”
Yo-Yo’s was in a part of town far removed from the site of the conference. The rich and famous were not a concern of the citizens of this neck of the woods. Survival was, however, and with it, community.
It was a local institution, a cross between a never-ending church social and a bar. Booths lined the front wall under tall front windows that could be cranked open, easing the boundaries between inside and out. For those who preferred not to be window-dressing, tall-backed booths extended along one side and stretched into the shadowy back room. A long red chrome-trimmed bar that bore more than a passing resemblance to a soda-shop counter traversed the length of the restaurant opposite the window. Here orders were placed, messages delivered, mail picked up. Yo-Yo’s operated as a kind of default community center for those whose circumstances didn’t allow much in the way of household stability.
When Jack entered, Casey was sitting with Justin in a booth near the shadows. His heart gave a bump.
Instead of walking over to them, he went directly to the counter to receive an obligatory hug from Marionetta, who was as enduring an institution as Yo-Yo’s itself. Jack teased her a bit and in turn suffered pokes and prods and comments about his appearance.
“Jack, Jack. Since you get famous, no food. You’re too skinny. It’s not right, you got to take care of yourself.”
“Marionetta, I weigh the same as always, maybe more.”
“See? What I mean—too skinny. Someone’s got to take care of you. I bring you some nice lunch, you and that devil brother of yours, and the pretty girl.” She scowled at Justin, who slouched in the booth, a suitably devilish grin on his face.
Marionetta had firm opinions about the genesis of the twins. Evidence notwithstanding, she maintained that Justin was a devil, Nocona an angel, and Jack their neglected little brother. Her job was to watch out for all of them, and everyone else.
