What to Read After FSOG: The Gemstone Collection (WTRAFSOG Book 5)

by Cathryn Fox

  Pulling off the highway onto the coastal route to Marblehead, she turned on the radio. She needed the distraction as she got closer. Her palms were getting sweaty. She laughed out loud at herself.

  The radio was tuned to an all sports station. The sportscaster announced that the Celtics were on a roll with Barry Dennis returning to better-than-ever form since he’d taken time off for his daughter’s surgery. “Now both father and daughter are doing well,” the man reported. “The Celtics are looking toward the play-offs with the question now being a matter of home court advantage.” Roxanne turned the radio off.

  “Damn.” She swiped the lone tear from her cheek. She didn’t want to hear it, not even about Lindy anymore. She’d even gotten angry at Al the other day when he tried to tell her about the custody suit being dropped.

  This was ridiculous. She pulled up along the side of the road in front of the house. Her house. Don’s house. She sat and blew her nose. She stared at the dashboard a minute then thought she ought to sell her car too. But no, she patted the steering wheel. This car was hers. It would serve as a reminder of who she was and where she’d been.

  Not that she thought she’d ever need reminding.

  She stepped from the car and walked around toward the back deck. She saw Barry’s car in the driveway. The dream came flooding back to her mind with irrational clarity and terror. Her heart pounded. Her hand flew to her neck. She couldn’t swallow.

  Run Barry. The words were trapped in her throat. But her legs began working again and she ran to the deck out back. Why was she running? Had she gone insane? What was Barry doing here? These questions crashed through her mind as she found herself bounding up the steps two at a time in her three-inch heels.

  Then all at once she stopped. He stood leaning back against the rail, looking at her with a hard stare. She composed herself, or tried to, her heart still racing more from the sight of him than her run up the stairs. She realized she must look like a nut. She took some steps toward him.

  “What are you doing here? I thought….” She gestured toward his car.

  He raised a brow. “I’m buying the house.”

  The pounding of her heart returned with a vengeance. His words made no sense.

  He continued. “Al left the papers for us. You sign them and the money is yours.” He paused, watching her. His face was that unreadable mask she’d grown to love and despise at the same time. She remained mute. Her mind was a blank. Drinking in the sight of him was all she could manage.

  “You can still live here if you want. That’s why I’m buying it …” Now he was the one who’d run out of words.

  “But I don’t want this house. I was looking forward to getting rid of it finally.” The words rushed from her mouth the moment she understood. “I mean, it’s a kind and generous gesture…” She realized how ungracious she’d sounded. Her palms began to sweat even in the chilly air.

  “That bad, eh?” He seemed to want to say more. He stood up from the railing and stepped close to her then.

  She looked up into those vivid blue eyes and felt her heart pop into her mouth, filling her with emotion. He looked vulnerable.

  “Come inside,” he said, like he owned the place.

  “Are you really buying the house for me?” She paused when he would have moved them inside.

  “Yeah. I didn’t know you’d already moved out. I tried calling.” He pulled his arm around her. His eyes were wide with pain, his look more vulnerable than she’d ever seen.

  “Why?”

  “Because I want you back. I bought the house for us.” The admission seemed to cost him.

  Her first instinct was to shut down the rioting emotions that threatened to drown her with hope and go back to her safe game. Her first urge was to scoff at him, but she bit her tongue and violently pushed herself past that point. It was easy when she kept her focus on his face. His face held the look she never even dreamed she’d see on a man’s face. But she needed one last reassurance.

  “No games?”

  “No games.” He half-smiled.

  “Totally vulnerable?” She pushed.

  “Completely naked.” He quirked his half-smile. “Always have been where you were concerned. I’ve been fooling no one but myself.” He got serious again. “The team’s been winning, I’ve been playing great, Lindy’s been improving steadily. She and I are starting to feel like we belong to each other, but there’s been something missing. For Lindy, it’s her mother. I’ve been doing what I can to help, but there’s really nothing to do—except be her father.”

  “And for you? What’s missing?”

  “You.”

  “Because you need a mother for Lindy?” She had to ask. She held her breath.

  He pulled her inside the French door into the empty kitchen. He shut the door and pulled her against him as he leaned against the counter. She fell into him and his heat scorched her even through their clothing. He raised her chin until she could only stare into his eyes.

  “The truth is, I love you. The truth is, I also can’t see any other woman being a better mother to Lindy.” He paused. His mouth twitched with his tension.

  She licked her lips. She’d desperately wanted to hear these words, but it wasn’t so easy to believe.

  “But I want you first and foremost for myself. All to myself. Forever. Call me a selfish bastard, but I don’t want to share you. I don’t want you to belong to someone else—not even to yourself. I want you for mine.” He stopped and took a breath.

  She felt as if he’d sucked in all the air right from her lungs. Her mind spun and she struggled to get back on familiar footing. These were words she heard over and over from besotted men whose love she didn’t return. What now? Now she wanted the same from him, but that’s not what he was offering. He only spoke about taking.

  “And what do I get from you? Should I settle for what’s left after Lindy and basketball?” She spoke in a sure voice that she didn’t feel. Her insides quaked with fear at what his answer might be, and at her own decision. Holding steady for one more moment she said, “What makes you think you can give me what I need?”

  He clenched his jaw. “Nothing. I’m hoping you’ll take that risk.” His face turned stony. Old defenses were tough to crumble.

  She said nothing. She looked away. The quaking caught up to her and she could no longer trust her voice not to give her away. He’d asked her to take a big risk. Could she picture herself going for it? The better question, she realized, was could she picture herself not going for it? A vision of herself alone and old like Bonnie came to mind. She shuddered. He held her tighter as he waited for her answer.

  Then she looked up at him with a slight smile, nothing left to say.

  He spoke instead. “If you had any idea how sweaty my palms were right now you’d have mercy on me and tell me you’ll marry me.” He’d always known when to capitalize on his advantage. But he withheld his smile.

  “Sweaty palms? You? Mechanical men don’t sweat.” She raised her chin and gave him a squint of skepticism.

  “Had to take one last shot, eh?”

  She laughed and felt her tension dispelled at once. “If you expect to marry me, then you should expect that this isn’t going to be the last shot you’ll have to take.”

  He bestowed her with his signature half-smile and beguiling dimple now. “Can I interpret that as a yes, or do you plan to quit hedging and give me a straight answer?” He straightened and eased her from him to give them space as if he knew her answer would be forthcoming and momentous.

  Her stomach lightened considerably until it felt like a helium balloon trying to escape through her throat. She concentrated on breathing and attempted a smile. “That was a short-lived case of nerves. Can’t keep an arrogant man down, I guess.”

  “I wouldn’t think you’d want to,” he said raising his eyebrows.

  She laughed and felt warmth spreading through her.

  He put his hands on her hips. It wasn’t her imagination that his moveme
nts were tentative, as if he thought she’d turn and run at any second. And his palms really were sweaty. She stared into his eyes. They were glossy and open with that vulnerability she’d never gotten more than a glimpse of before today.

  She spoke at long last. “I want to marry you more than anything else in the world. I’m in love with you. And I’m in love with your daughter. I don’t know how to be a wife and mother—any more than you know how to be a husband and father.” She smiled. “But I want to do it more than anything in the world. I want to have it all with you. Only you.”

  He pulled her to him, wrapping his arms around her. The envelope of heat from his body surrounded her in the most exquisitely comforting feeling she could ever recall having. This must be what all those couples in love felt like, and she never knew. She’d longed to know and now she did.

  She understood as she let her lids slide closed that this was different, better. Lowering his head toward hers, his mouth near her lips, he spoke with a taut voice. “I love you. You’ll have whatever you want from me. I’m trusting you not to take it all.”

  The words washed over her with a pleasure she’d never known. She marveled and sighed. She opened her eyes and looked at this man. “I can’t believe I fell in love with you in spite of everything. In spite of my best intentions and my skepticism. I won’t take anything I wouldn’t give you first. I won’t hurt you, I promise.” She meant it when she said it. She realized now how afraid she’d been that she couldn’t make that promise.

  “I’ll miss our game.” There was no wistfulness in his voice, but there was a dimple in one cheek. He kissed her then. He gave her a kiss that she wished would go on forever.

  Dear Reader,

  Thank you for taking the journey with me through the story of Roxanne and Barry. I sincerely hope you enjoyed your moments of escape into their world. I would love to hear any comments you have. Please visit my website www.StephanieQueen.com. You can also follow me on Twitter @StephanieQueen or on Facebook on my Stephanie Queen page.

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  If you loved the story, please consider leaving a review on the site where you purchased this book. I would very much appreciate it and if you let me know about your review, I will send you a coupon to purchase my next release.

  Sincerely,

  Stephanie Queen

  Stephanie Queen Books

  Between a Rock and a Mad Woman – Prequel Scotland Yard Exchange series

  The Hot Shots – Book 2 Scotland Yard Exchange series

  The Romantics – Book 3 Scotland Yard Exchange series

  The Beachcombers – Book 4 Scotland Yard Exchange series

  Playing the Game – Book 1 The Playing series

  Small Town Glamour Girl Christmas

  Small Town Glamour Girl Wedding – a Novella

  About the Author

  USA Today Bestselling author Stephanie Queen is a romantic at heart and a writer by nature with the enthusiastic soul of a cheerleader. She enjoys creating stories where her rose-colored world-view comes to life and the good guys always win. Although she lost count of all the jobs she had before she settled on being a Novelist, her favorite was selling cookies as a Keebler Elf.

  Rules of the Game

  Elaine Raco Chase

  Published by Elaine Raco Chase

  This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This eBook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with.

  If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the author’s work.

  Copyright © 2012 by Elaine Raco Chase

  All of the characters in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead is purely coincidental.

  Trademark, brand names and product acknowledgements are used with the utmost respect and admiration

  Chapter One

  “Sam, is that you?”

  Through the partially open inner office door, Samantha Logan could see white-haired Judge Harold Griffen reclining behind his massive oak desk. “Oh, it’s me all right,” she retorted, depositing a tennis racquet, bakery box, and healthy collection of mail on her already crowded desktop. “Don’t worry, I have stopped crying now that the horny honeymooners are safely on a plane. I can’t wait to get back into my own house and my own bed.”

  At his responding laugh, she added. “You had better be very nice to me. Not only did I get everything straightened out on your vast list, but I got your daughter back on the retirement committee. Had to sell my body to that old lecher but –”

  “Damn it, Sam, what in the hell did you agree to?”

  “Relax, sit back down,” she stepped out of her black leather pumps, wriggling her bare toes amid the plush brown carpet fibers. “I had to agree to dance with Judge Baylor at your testimonial. So someone better cut in or I won’t be responsible for what happens when that man’s hand lands on my ass.” The judge’s exaggerated sigh caused Samantha to laugh.

  “Thank God you got her back on the committee. At least that project will keep her out of Katherine’s and my hair for a while.”

  “I see Janine hasn’t changed a bit since the last time I saw her.”

  “That’s one reason I wanted you to stay at the house while you were here, I had hoped you could keep Janine occupied so that she’d be too involved to give us any more problems.”

  “I figured you had something like that in mind when you extended your invitation. That’s why I took Peter Chalmers up on his offer to use his condo while he’s in London. You’ll have to stew in your own juices.”

  A foreign voice caused Sam to grimace in embarrassment. “I hear your guest has arrived. Coffee? I brought your favorite cheese Danish from the bakery.”

  She heard the judge chuckle. “That’s wonderful. Maybe it will improve my friend’s disposition. How about it, Adam?”

  “It’s going to take more than coffee and pastry to do that,” replied a deep voice hidden somewhere behind the slant of the chamber door. “I hate it when pilots short the runway. We all got whiplash.”

  Why that poor old man. Samantha thought sympathetically while she hung her jacket on the coat tree. She knew the judge’s old friend, Adam Rourke, was on a busman’s holiday, Friday through Sunday, upstate relaxing; Monday through Thursday, working out of his New York City publishing office. He was to be best man when the judge married Katherine Tyler next Saturday and a speaker at his retirement-testimonial dinner the following week. Samantha frowned in concern. He must be in his sixties like the judge and the last thing he’d need is a rough plane ride after the TSA probe.

  “Nourishment in five minutes,” she responded, heading into a cleverly concealed mini-kitchen. “Did Martin’s Sporting Goods call back yet on anything?”

  “Not yet,” replied the judge. “Did you pick up Janine’s new racquet and leave your scuba gear?”

  “Yes. I talked the movers into sending over some special packing crates for your personal books and finalized all the moving details for the files and furnishings.” She called back while pouring water into the automatic brewing system.

  One ear on their conversation, she carefully arranged mugs, spoons, napkins, sugar, cream, and the Danish on a tray while the coffee finished dripping through the filter paper. She bristled when she heard Adam Rourke’s pessimistic comment.

  In a decidedly mocking voice he stated: “My advice to persons about to be married is don’t. Here you are just getting your freedom by retiring and you’re giving yourself a life sentence.”

  Some best man! He should be thrilled that his friend was marrying someon
e as wonderful and loving as Katherine instead of taking potshots at the institution of marriage! He was as bad as Janine with her caustic remarks. Folding up her sleeves, Sam deftly twisted her long blond hair into a topknot, anchoring it with a pencil. Rather forcibly, she added the hot carafe to the tray before heading back to the judge’s chamber.

  The judge chuckled good-naturedly. “You really are a disagreeable old so-and-so today, aren’t you? Your problem is you’ve never met the right woman. Just those artificial plastic reproductions that you keep running into.” He looked up and caught Samantha standing in the doorway and gave her a conspiratorial wink when he saw the look of outrage on her attractive face. “Well, here’s our coffee, Adam. This is my assistant for the past eighteen months, Samantha Logan.”

  Samantha deposited the heavily laden tray on the desk and, assuming an air of extreme indifference, turned to meet her employer’s old friend. Her blue eyes widened in surprise behind the lenses of her retro eyeglass frames. Adam Rourke was definitely not an old man!

  He appeared to be in his mid-thirties and one of the most attractive men she had ever seen. Thick raven-black hair was brushed back off a tanned, ruggedly handsome face with a slight cleft in the chin. His broad shoulders and muscular physique seemed to resent being imprisoned by the impeccably tailored gray suit he was wearing. But it was a pair of incredible green eyes that commanded her attention – eyes that favored her with a decidedly critical glance.

  He gave her a curt nod and half rose from the leather chair. She returned the nod, and then quickly began to pour the coffee, cross with herself for letting him make such a strong first impression.

  Adam accepted the steaming mug from Samantha and asked, over her head to the judge, “So, Frank Jackson, the clerk you had before, he quit?”