“Come on.”
“Where we going?”
“Places you’ve only dreamed of.” Darla smiled. Her grip on Amy’s hand tightened. Then they were moving through the library. Tall stacks towering above them and the passageway growing narrower and darker.
Darla’s amber eyes sparked with desire. She cupped Amy’s cheek then delicately traced a fingertip along her jaw and pushed a strand of hair away from her neck. The gesture was so simple but so intimate. Slowly, she pushed her back against the wall.
“You smell like books and grass and sun.”
“That’s all I do.” Amy’s response was little more than a breath.
Darla kissed her neck. “But I taste something else. Do you know what it is?” She dropped to her knees. Her hands drifted along the back of Amy’s thighs, up under her dress.
Amy was shaking. Her legs trembled so much they could barely support her.
“Can you tell me?” Her voice was soft and seductive. Her hands moved like silk over Amy’s behind and rested there.
“No.” Amy dropped her gaze to Darla’s face. It transfixed her. Her skin glowed like polished mahogany in the dim light.
Darla slid her hands inside Amy’s panties. The heat from Darla’s palms was intense on the cool skin of her backside.
“Should I show you?”
“Please,” Amy whispered. She tipped her head back against the concrete wall and let its coolness seep into her back. She was burning up. Heat pulsed in waves through her body. Darla’s fingers grazed her damp sex. Amy shuddered with pleasure.
“I taste desire.” Darla spread her legs wider. “And you.” Slowly, excruciatingly she moved toward her center.
“Please.” Amy breathed.
Darla moaned in response and slid a finger deep into Amy. She shuddered, ripples of sensation coursed through her. She tightened around Darla’s strokes, the friction building a delicious tension throughout her body. All that existed was this space between her legs and the exquisite touch of her first lover. The girl who had taught her who she really was. Darla stroked slowly, sensually, in and out, adding another finger when she sensed Amy was ready.
“Look at me.”
Amy slid down the wall, sinking onto Darla’s hand, moving into her rhythm, wanting more, building, building—
“Look at me.”
Amy opened her eyes and stared at Darla. Her amber eyes were light and sparkling, not dark at all. And then they turned blue. They burned through her with longing, and the blue was like a horizon that seemed to go on forever.
“Casey?” Amy struggled to speak.
“We both know I’m the one you really want.” Casey was holding her against the wall. Casey was pushing into her body, priming it, making her explode. Casey was—
Metal slammed against metal.
Amy’s eyes flew open.
The stacks. Casey. Her building orgasm. All gone. Slipping away from her and back into the land of dreams.
What the hell was that noise?
Now that her mind was clearing, it only took a second to realize that it came from Diego’s home gym. The weight machines were right under her apartment. She took a deep breath, trying to orient herself. Dulce began yipping to be let out. Amy pulled herself out of bed and opened the door a crack. The dog shot out like a bullet. The clanking echoed louder in the hallway. Shit, for the amount of money this place cost can’t Diego afford better soundproofing?
She headed for the bathroom, hoping a hot shower would improve her mood. In the shower stall, she inadvertently leaned against one of the buttons and steam tinged with the fresh scent of eucalyptus enveloped her. Another one of the luxurious treats living at casa Diego brought. Any other day, Amy would have adored the aromatherapy treatment but this morning being transported to an eucalyptus forest took her further away from Casey and her sexy dream. She dropped her hand between her thighs, hoping to recapture the magic. Nope. The sparkle had definitely gone. With a sigh she reached for the shampoo.
Dressed and ready for the day Amy headed downstairs. She took a quick look in the gym to see Diego pumping weights at a chest press machine. A very handsome man with slick blond hair stood over him counting down the reps. “You can do it, man. Come on!”
Amy pulled back quickly before either of them turned to see her at the door. She had the distinct feeling that she was watching a private moment. Not really knowing where to go, she aimlessly wandered into the kitchen. The smell of freshly brewed coffee hit her as soon as she walked in. Tammy sat at the oversized table, reading the newspaper and drinking from a steaming cup.
“Morning, Tammy.”
“Morning,” she answered, without looking up.
“Is there any more coffee.”
“In the pot. And there’s eggs and toast as well.”
“You really didn’t have to make me breakfast.”
“Oh, I didn’t, sweetie.” She made sweetie sound cold. “I fixed it for Diego, but there’s some leftover.”
“Well then, how can I say no?”
“It’s in the steamer.”
Amy glanced around the kitchen looking for something that could be a steamer. She opened the dishwasher, a refrigeration drawer filled with energy drinks, and finally the warming drawer. Nestled inside was a perfectly portioned breakfast of fluffy eggs and buttered toast. She reached out to grab the plate, and then jerked her hand back. It was scorching hot.
“Careful, the plate’s hot,” Tammy said from behind her paper.
Amy had the distinct feeling that Tammy was grinning ear to ear. She grabbed a dish towel and brought the plate to the table, sitting down on the other side, staking out her own territory.
Tammy folded her paper. “So what are you going to do today?”
“I don’t know. Diego will be at the stadium. I gather that’s for the whole day.” Time stretched out in front of her. What was she going to do all day? She was pretty sure that Tammy wasn’t going to sit around and throw ice cubes with her the way Simon had. “Maybe I’ll—”
“Today is a big cleaning day for me. You’ll need to stay out of my way.”
“Okay,” she said, not letting Tammy push her buttons. “You got any suggestions about what I could do?”
“I do. I’ve been thinking about it.” Diego sauntered into the kitchen with a towel hung around his neck. He was flushed and glowed with sweat and good health. His trainer followed close on his heels but stopped short when he saw Amy.
Tammy slapped down the paper and jumped to her feet. “Antioxidant smoothie?” she offered.
“Yes, please,” Diego said, turning to face Amy. “I have an idea for you. I’m sending Casey out to this crazy place in Oxnard. It’s a golf course where you kick a soccer ball instead of hitting a golf ball. Do you want to go?”
Tammy turned on the blender so Amy had to almost shout her response. “Really? That’s a thing?” The trainer moved closer to Diego, and Amy wondered for split second what it was like for Diego to have Tammy and this handsome man orbit him as if he were the sun.
“Oh,” Diego said, suddenly remembering the introductions. “Rob, this is Amy, my fiancée. Amy, this is Rob, my trainer.”
“Good to meet you, Rob,” Amy said.
Rob raised a hand in a halfhearted greeting. “Hi, Amy.” But he had already dismissed her even as he said her name. He swung back toward Diego. “I gotta get going, man.”
“Cool. See you Thursday.” Diego took a glass of something very green out of Tammy’s outstretched hand.
Rob let himself out, and Amy watched as Diego’s gaze followed him all the way down the path and around the corner. Diego was zeroing in on his ass. Amy bit her lip and frowned. Diego couldn’t afford slip-ups like this if their deception was going to work.
Tammy was staring at her from across the kitchen. Their gazes locked before Tammy quickly
looked away.
Amy’s stomach lurched. What had Tammy seen?
“I’m going to take a shower, then head down to the stadium.” Diego downed the last of his smoothie. He smiled at both women, oblivious to the atmosphere in the room. “I’ll call you later, babe,” he called over his shoulder to Amy.
“Can’t wait.”
Amy sagged back in her seat, grateful that Diego had forgotten about Oxnard. She silently thanked Rob for having such a cute ass. So cute that Diego’s plans for her and Casey had slipped his mind.
Diego popped his head back around the doorpost almost on cue. “I know it sounds ridiculous, Amy, but that course wants my endorsement. They’re part of an actual league. Will you check it out with Casey? Paul thinks Nike may even sign on as sponsor and this may be our way in with them.”
A full day with Casey. Not a good idea. “I don’t want to cramp her style.” Even to her ears she sounded lame.
“You won’t. I’m sure she’d really like the company. And it will be a hell of lot cooler up by the beach. Actually, I’d really like for you to go and give me your true opinion. Play a round and tell me what you think. Is this something I should get involved in?”
Now the outing was an official request. No wiggle room. “Sure. I’d love to. I’m always up for something new.” Amy hoped she had hit the right, light note.
“That’s my girl,” Diego said, and came back in to give her a quick kiss on the lips. “Sorry, I’m a little sweaty. Here. Don’t move.” He playfully patted her mouth with the towel. Tammy and Amy watched him head off for his shower.
“I guess I’m going to Oxnard.” Amy fixed Tammy with a cool stare to see if she could read anything in the older woman’s face.
“I think Casey’s already out in the office. You better go tell her.” Tammy looked disinterested.
Amy rose to take her empty plate to the sink.
“I’ll get that,” Tammy said. “You better skedaddle. You wouldn’t want her to leave without you.”
“Okay. Thanks for breakfast.”
“Whenever Diego’s in town, I’ll put a plate in the warmer for when you don’t get to eat together.”
“Don’t go to any trouble.”
“I’m cooking anyways. It’s no trouble.”
Amy suspected Tammy had hit on an ingenious way to keep tabs on when she and Diego ate together, like any newly engaged couple would. And, more importantly, when they didn’t. It was the thin end of a wedge that could throw up other discrepancies in their routines.
The nagging feeling that Tammy might be a snake followed her out of the house and across the flagstone patio towards the office. Through the glass doors Amy could see Casey on her knees before a bookshelf. Her fingers tapped across the three-ring binders until she found the one she wanted. Everything fell out of focus. Casey on her knees. The shelf of books. The resonance of her dream echoed through her as if it had been some kind of premonition.
Then the glass doors slid open and Casey said, “Yes?”
Her voice seemed to come from far away, and was distorted, as if she were under water. This is ridiculous. Amy struggled to get a hold of herself. This is the problem with lies. The truth had to fight dirty to get out.
Casey waited for a response. “Can I help you?” she asked impatiently.
Amy blushed. “Um, Diego wants me to go with you to the soccer golf thing.”
“Oh.” Casey pursed her lips. “I…I was going to take my niece. Let me call her and tell her another time.”
“No.” Amy stopped Casey from picking up the phone. “I told Diego you probably had plans but he insisted.” She stepped inside the office. “Bring her along. Please.”
“She’s ten and she never stops talking.”
“I love kids.” A chatty ten-year-old was the perfect way to keep her day around Casey intact.
“You sure?” Casey set the phone back down.
“Definitely. Let’s do this.”
An hour later Amy and Casey were racing down the 101 Highway with a jubilant ten-year-old in the backseat. Mia bounced to the pop tunes blaring from the radio. The second she had gotten into the car the mood transformed. All the tension building between them dissipated like it had never existed.
“Oh. Turn that up, Aunt Casey.”
“It’s pretty loud already.”
“But this is my favorite song.” Mia drew the sentence out with a perfected pre-teen whine.
“You said the last one was your favorite song.”
“It was until I heard this one.”
Casey spun the dial on the radio the tiniest bit and chuckled. The laugh was one of the happiest, most genuine sounds Amy had heard in a while. She stole a glance at the woman beside her. Hands lightly gripped the steering wheel and her head slightly bobbing to the up-tempo beat. This Casey was as different from the woman of the last two days as day was from night. This was the real Casey.
“Sing, Mia. I know you know the words.”
A second set of lyrics burst forth from the backseat, deeply out of tune, but full of so much joy that it didn’t matter.
Casey turned toward Amy and with a broad smile and mouthed, “Sorry.”
Amy caught her gaze just for a second before Casey turned back to the road. The blue of her eyes was luminous and no longer frozen. Her defensiveness had thawed for the moment. Amy wished that she’d been the one to trigger the change rather than the animated imp in the backseat. Mia belted out one song after another until Casey pulled into the parking lot at the golf course.
“We have reservations. I’ll go check in.”
“Have you ever played Footgolf?” Mia danced beside Amy as Casey talked with a lanky young man behind the counter of the pro shop.
“No. Have you?”
“Nope.” She shrugged, and then grinned. “But I’m going to be pretty good. Coach chooses me for all the corner kicks,” Mia said, with the true modesty of a ten-year-old.
“Oh, I better watch out then.”
Amy heard Casey mention Diego’s name, and the lanky man straighten up giving Casey his full attention. He couldn’t get to the phone fast enough, and Casey turned to put up one finger to tell them it was going to be a minute.
“So what position do you play?” Amy asked, killing time.
“Forward, just like my Aunt Casey did.”
Amy took in the casual way Casey was standing, light on her feet, aware of all the space around her. She held herself like an athlete.
Wait a second. Just like my Aunt Casey did? What happened to her? Amy realized that she knew nothing at all about Casey.
A man in a suit arrived at the pro shop. He came up to Casey and pumped her hand repeatedly, bowing his head a little as he did so. Amy felt the force of Diego’s name from ten feet away.
“All right. We’re good to go. Let’s get our stuff.” Casey headed back to them. The trunk of her Camry popped open with a satisfying thunk, and Casey yanked out a big blue-and-gold Bruin soccer duffel. Casey #3 was stitched across one side. A scuffed, but well-loved soccer ball was stuffed into a mesh side pocket. A couple more soccer balls rolled around loose in the trunk.
“Pick your weapon.”
Amy chose a black and gold Adidas ball. Mia snapped up a neon pink one, and Casey grabbed a red one from out of the back.
“Shoes.” Casey directed Mia to a backpack on the backseat. “You playing in those?” Casey frowned at Amy’s tennis shoes.
Amy bit her lip. “Yeah, they’re all I have. Hey, what about those turf shoes from yesterday?”
Casey unzipped a side pocket of the backpack and produced the shoes. “You mean these?”
Amy nodded.
“These are mine.”
“What? You gave me your shoes yesterday?” Embarrassment warmed her cheeks. “Casey, you didn’t have to do that.”
“Actually, I did. That’s my job. To pull shoes magically out of my bag whenever Diego needs them. Besides, I don’t really use them that much anymore.”
“I wouldn’t have taken them if I had known.”
“Where’d you think they came from?” Casey actually sounded like she wanted to know.
“I don’t know. That wardrobe woman at the photo shoot or something. I don’t know. I wasn’t thinking. Look, it’s okay. I’ll just play in my sneakers.” Amy shifted awkwardly. Her tennis shoes should have enough traction for her not to fall on her ass with the first kick. Casey nodded, unzipped the biggest compartment of the bag and pulled out a black graphite brace with two round hinges. It looked bionic. She fixed the brace around her knee with a few well-practiced tugs.
“ACL tear in my knee among other things.” Casey shrugged as if it were no big deal. Amy had been around soccer long enough to know how dangerous knee injuries could be. A brace like this one usually signaled a career-ending injury. Casey’s bag looked authentic. UCLA was a Division 1 school. Number two in the US college soccer rankings if she remembered correctly. Maybe Casey could shrug the injury off now, but at some point it had been a very big deal.
“Ready!” Mia bounded out the car with her turf shoes on. She grabbed Casey’s arm and dragged her over to the green. However uncomfortable Amy had felt in the parking lot, it vanished as soon as they set their balls down on the first tee. Amy was ready to make fun of the game. Footgolf. The title alone was absurd.
The game consisted of eighteen holes carved out of the fairways of a regular golf course each ending in a cup the size of a garbage can. At first glance, Hole #1 looked deceptively simple. A straight par three that skirted through a bank of trees, it ended in a long narrow green. Mia couldn’t wait to get started. She dropped her ball first, backed up for a running start and threw herself at it. The shot had a lovely lofting arc, and Amy knew why she was chosen for every corner kick. But this game demanded a driven ball, not height.
“Mia, get your body over the ball.” Casey threw a sample kick in the air. Her body was bent as her foot came up with a snap. “You want distance not height.”
The Set Piece Page 7