What to Read After FSOG: The Gemstone Collection (WTRAFSOG Book 9) Page 43

  John lifted her from his lap and rose to his feet, sending a white cloud of steam dancing through the air with his movement. He held out his hand. “Hi, I’m John Mathews. I’m twenty-four, I live in my mom’s house, by myself the majority of the time, I make damn good money, I’m hardworking, adventurous, and a bit of a hothead.”

  “And sexy as hell,” Shayla added quietly out the side of her mouth while shaking his hand. Clearing her throat, she attempted to keep a straight face, completely nude, reintroducing herself. “Hi, I’m Shayla. I’m thirty, I come from a seriously fucked up family, I live by myself,”—she pulled a full, encouraging grin from John—“I own my own home, with a little help from my uncle, I love to surf and I’ll try just about anything.”

  “Anything?” His eyes opened wide, clouding with filthy insinuations. A misty veil created droplets on the crest of his cheeks. “Oh, and let’s not forget…in a matter of hours we’re going to be related by marriage.”

  John cradled her hand, bringing it to his wet lips. He managed to extract every last bit of apprehension from her body when he tore his lips from her hand.

  “We are a pair.” Her quiet voice rose above the stream of water. “And I should warn you, I’m in a bit of a relationship pickle.”

  “You are right about both those things. We are a pair and I’ve got a remedy for your relationship pickle.” He added another heated promise, nodding toward the shower. “You need some help? I could wash your hair, shave your legs, relieve a little tension?”

  Shayla giggled, shaking her head. She tossed him a rueful smile, stepping into the walk-in shower built for two, alone.

  Chapter Nine

  The wedding party gathered at the dock an hour before sunset. Two boats waited to ferry them over to a small island for the ceremony. Tommy and Tess gathered beside a small boat painted in customary vibrant Greek colors. Marco and Rick fussed over Tess with last minute touches to her hair and make-up. Not that she needed any primping. Tess looked breathtaking in a creamy white strapless dress that accentuated her curves, and Tommy looked dashing in all black.

  Benny, Lisa and their two children, as well as the priest and the photographer, gradually made their way toward the small ferry arranged to transport guests.

  Shayla, Tracy and JC gathered at the sidewalk near the dock.

  “I really can’t believe this is happening.” JC rubbed her palms together as if she were rolling a stick in her hand to start a fire, her youthful exuberance unmatchable and undeniable.

  “I’m not sure which I find more unbelievable.” Blissful enthusiasm replaced Tracy’s typically subdued personality. “The fact our mother is marrying The Tom Clemmins, or the fact she is just so ridiculously happy. I never thought I’d ever see her this happy again.”

  “You? Tommy’s never acted like this in his life. Ever!” Shayla beamed, reaching out to squeeze Tracy’s hand.

  “Today marks the start of new beginnings,” John stated, sending a meaningful glance toward Shayla when he joined the conversation.

  Half the comments he made throughout the day construed two different meanings. Each time Shayla flushed from a quiver of a tickle climbing up her neck. What she had first considered arrogance turned to outright magnetic charm. The more he spoke, the more she hung on every sentence coming from his rich voice.

  John dazzled her with an imploring smile, lazily straightening a twist in the thin strap of her heather grey dress. His hand paused on the small of her back for an excruciating amount of time, making Shayla want to ease into the muscular contours of his body.

  Demurely, she pressed her lips together, blotting her sheer pink lip-gloss. Her gaze inadvertently focused on his black shirt unbuttoned to the hollow of his throat. Unable to help herself, Shayla adjusted his already perfect collar, indulging in the brief contact with his warm, smooth skin.

  Shayla noticed a coy smile exchanged between Tracy and JC. All afternoon she observed his sisters taking notice of the attention he casually showered her with. Shayla and John had gravitated toward each other all day. He complimented every item adorning her body. When he admired her stunning grey dress, mentioning how it made her eyes turn the most beautiful shade of blue he’d ever seen, JC mock gagged with a mordant eye roll, muttering, “Get a room.”

  The moment his sister was out of sight, John nibbled on her ear. “I intend to.”

  The afternoon sun dipped lower toward the horizon, igniting every nook and crevasse along the shore with dramatic shadows and shading. As they waited at the dock, a man standing alone in the distance caught her attention.

  She couldn’t get a full view of him because he hid around the corner, resting his shoulder against the side of a stark white building. He lifted his camera, scanning over the sea. The camera wasn’t big enough to be a paparazzi’s, but the lens aimed straight at her.

  Her stomach fluttered apprehensively. The stranger lowered the lens and ducked further behind the wall.

  Shayla’s eyes narrowed in speculation. “I’ll be right back.”

  She trotted up a set of worn concrete stairs, heals clicking on the light grey stone as she marched down the sidewalk. Her instincts on high alert, she quickened her pace as she passed several local fishermen enthralled in a serious game of checkers. As she moved forward, the man’s khaki pants and tailored white shirt became visible at the corner of the building.

  “Excuse me.” Shayla pointed at his camera.

  The man startled at the volume of her voice, gripping his camera. “Moi? Comment est ce que je peux vous aider.”

  His French surprised her. She would’ve guessed him to be an American. “What are you photographing?”

  “Photos? Oui. La belle mer.”

  “Who are you?” Shayla held out her hand, wanting to see the camera.

  He shirked away from her demands, frowning uneasily. Peering beyond her shoulder, the man’s eyes widened and he staggered two steps back. His face drained of color, turning ashen right before her eyes.

  “What’s the problem?” John’s voice boomed, echoing down the narrow passageway between storefronts.

  The man shrugged innocently, his eyes drawn to John’s massive set of shoulders. He waved his hands between Shayla and his camera. He rambled on in French.

  Shayla glanced at John, shaking her head. “This doesn’t feel right. I know he was aiming that camera at me. I just need to make sure he isn’t taking pictures.”

  John pointed toward the camera. His chest expanded as he stood tall, looking powerful and intimidating. “We need to see your camera, bud.”

  “I don’t need you to scare him, John. I can handle this. I’ll be right there.”

  John made a scoffing sound. “I don’t think so.”

  The man’s face soured. A glow of fear mixed with annoyance as his casual stance turned rigid. He squared his shoulders in a defensive manner, but opted to take a sulking step back from John. “Va te faire foutre.”

  Neither John nor Shayla needed a translator to recognize the term fuck off.

  “Oh, shit,” slipped out of her mouth. Urgent to get John out of the situation before it turned heated, she tugged on his elbow, but his feet wouldn’t budge.

  Shrugging off her loose grip, John shot him a warning glare. He stretched out his hand, a slight ripple of muscle visible through his black dress shirt warning of his strength. “You. Can’t. Take. Pictures. Of. Us.”

  Shayla kept her voice steady, turning to John with wide eyes. “I don’t think he’s gonna understand you just because you slow it down and say it louder with a French slang.”

  “Trust me. He gets it,” John assured, venturing a step closer.

  As John reached for the lens, a flash of red appeared at his side.

  Tracy startled all three of them when she elegantly captured John’s arm by the wrist. She darted a sweet glance at the tourist before glowering at her brother. “Is there a problem?”

  Shayla nodded at his camera. “I need to be sure he isn’t taking pictures of—”


  “Bonjour.” Graciousness oozed from Tracy’s mouth with endearing sweetness as she clasped the stranger’s hand, dipping her head to say hello. One look at her voluptuous cleavage stole the edge from his annoyed demeanor. “S’il vous plaît pardonnez mon frère. C’est d’un marriage privé, et vous ne pouvez pas prendre des photos.”

  John nudged her. “What are you saying?”

  Tracy smiled pleasantly, gritting through her teeth. “I asked him to forgive my brother’s rudeness. He’s a buffoon.”

  John grumbled indignantly and Shayla dropped her grin to the uneven flagstone beneath her feet.

  “Je comprends. J’ai pensé qu’il voulait me détrousser.” He clutched his camera protectively.

  Tracy smiled. “Imagine that John, he thought you were robbing him.” Her sweet exaggerated laugh carried on breeze down the empty corridor. She mockingly rolled her eyes, showing playful annoyance with her brother. “Puis-je voir?”

  “Oui.” He twisted sideways, allowing Tracy to view is pictures, not missing the opportunity to catch another glimpse at such a striking woman.

  “Merci.”

  He cupped Tracy’s hand, pressing a brief kiss to her knuckles. “De rien.”

  “All clear. No pictures.” Tracy turned on her heel, marching back to the dock. “Just one scared to death tourist, trying to enjoy the magic of Greece without getting beat up by my brother.”

  Shayla nodded, offering her apology, and darted right behind Tracy. “I didn’t realize you spoke French.”

  “I speak a little bit of Italian and Spanish too.” Out of earshot, she paused, huffing furiously at her brother. “If you get your ass thrown in jail again, especially today during Mom’s wedding, she’ll never forgive you. Can we just get on the boat before you make a scene or go crazy on another unsuspecting tourist?”

  “Me?” he questioned innocently, poking his chest with his thumb.

  Tracy shot him a piercing glare before proceeding to the boat without listening to any excuses.

  John called out, “Hey, that only happened once and it wasn’t really my fault. Besides, I wasn’t the one going crazy! I was just backing up her crazy.”

  “My crazy?” Shayla gasped, so appalled, she thwacked him on the arm, knocking herself off balance.

  He grabbed her around the waist, his face inches from hers.

  She thought she saw a white flash of a grin. “Do you think that’s funny?”

  “You are so adorable when you get pissed.” He pulled her tight to his frame, scanning over her face, taking in every nuance.

  She opened her mouth to complain, but he gently pressed his finger to her lips.

  “You’d better stop right there.”

  She creased her brows in defiance. “Or what?”

  Her lips moved behind his finger, the scent of his minty breath split her thoughts, tempting her to roll her tongue around his finger.

  “Or I might kiss you right now.”

  “Hey, Romeo! The boat’s waiting. Let’s go!” JC called, breaking their gaze.

  John eased her away from the length of his body, keeping his arm at the small her back, grinning as he waved to his sister.

  Fifty questions riffled through her head, including the calling card Romeo. She leaned a bit closer into his side as they walked. “Have you really been to jail?” she asked.

  Shayla’s stride slowed to a crawl as she became fascinated by every intimidating, masculine inch of him. Every part of her wanted to know more about him.

  “It’s a long story.”

  “We have all night.”

  “We won’t be talking,” he whispered into her hair, escorting her across the bridge made of planks onto the ferry. “Maybe on our next date.”

  A hush of silence and smiles of anticipation filled the small ferry as it skimmed across the flat, calm sea. Tracy came prepared, retrieving a light shawl from her bag.

  Shayla sat next to John, trembling from the cool breeze nipping at her cheeks. His arm came around her, tucking her into his solid frame.

  JC swapped seats, squeezing between Tracy and John to hide from the chilly spray wiping over the bow of the boat. She wrapped her arms around herself, nudging her brother’s shoulder. Her teeth chattered through an imploring smile. “What about me? You got one of those for your sister?”

  “Well get in here,” John ordered, lifting his other arm, offering shelter.

  JC rested her head on his shoulder and he rubbed up and down quickly, creating friction and warmth on both of the girls’ bare arms.

  Shayla smiled at JC before locking eyes with John.

  He winked at her and she cuddled in closer.

  “What did you go to jail for?” Shayla asked, gazing out at the small barren island approaching in the glow of the horizon. She indulged in the comfort of his chin resting on top of her head.

  “Nothing. It wasn’t that big of deal.”

  “It w—was a big deal.” JC’s teeth chattered. “He missed Tracy’s graduation and screwed up her party c—cause Dad had to bail him out of jail.”

  John continued the rubbing, shifting in his seat to shield JC from the biting cold spray of water.

  Shayla elbowed his rib, wanting to hear complete details of the story.

  “I was on my way to Tracy’s graduation and I got into an altercation with someone on the side of the road.”

  “Altercation?” JC scoffed and Shayla leaned forward, peeking at JC with wide eyes. “More like he beat the hell out of the guy.”

  “He deserved it,” Tracy added flatly.

  By now her curiosity dripped like drool from the lips of a Saint Bernhard on a summer day, pleading with her eyes for one of them to continue.

  “John was two blocks from the Thomas and Mack, that’s where our graduations are held, when he pulled off the side of the road to help a woman getting beat up by her boyfriend.”

  “Pimp!” JC nodded hotly. “Get the story straight, he was her pimp.”

  “Beat up by her pimp. He got thrown in jail for—”

  “Soliciting prostitution.” JC’s deep chuckle reverberated all the way through John’s rigid posture to the side of Shayla’s thigh.

  He quickly clarified. “I was in a hurry, trying to get to Tracy’s graduation, so I took a short cut through a seedy part of town. I passed by a convenient store and this guy was screaming at a woman half his size. He slapped the shit out of her so hard she fell to the ground. Before I realized what I was doing, I had the guy on the hood of the car. Then the crazy chick started attacking me.”

  Shayla gasped in surprise. “The lady you were trying to help?”

  “The pros-ti-tute!” JC bit off one syllable at a time.

  “The cops showed up and took all three of us to jail. Fortunately, my dad had a lot of friends.” He tugged her closer, his hot breath gusting hard against her cold cheek. “What were you expecting? Bank robber?”

  She giggled next to his ear. “Superhero.”

  Shayla’s main priority should have been the wedding getting ready to ensue, but her thoughts split like the bow slicing through the waves, parting the sea. How is it possible to feel this magnitude of happiness? This type of family isn’t supposed to exist! Men like John only lived in fairytales and she stopped believing in those when she was seven.

  Her nerves were strung tight with sensory overload. Swathed in his warm, woodsy scent and powerful arm, she felt herself yielding to the rush of passion he unlocked inside her.

  For several years the ocean provided her with inner solitude, but not even the turquoise water surrounding the boat would settle her anxiety, and this new brand of desire. He sat so close, yet it wasn’t nearly close enough. She trembled, not from the biting cold, but from the lust. She wanted to feel his skin on hers, inside of her. Visions of climbing naked onto his lap and kissing him the night before saturated her thoughts. All Shayla could do was stare straight ahead and smile somberly as her heart spurred in frantic beats.

  After docking, the g
irls gathered their bouquets of flowers. Everyone slipped off their shoes, leaving them on the beach. The Levi’s daughter, Kim, carried a wicker basket full of rose petals and their son, Tommy, gripped his guitar as they made their way up the sandy path. One by one, they crested the hilltop. However, Shayla found herself hanging back, not wanting to go without John.

  Tommy and Tess’s boat motored closer to shore. The captain of the ferry handed John a gorgeous bouquet of red roses that he cradled in the crook of his arm like a sleeping baby. He gave her a half-smile. “I’ve gotta stay and escort my mom up to the pavilion, Shay.”

  “I know.” The words of understanding slipped from her lips, but Shayla’s feet remained planted in the white sand. She fiddled with his collar and adjusted the single red rose attached to his black shirt. Soft strums of the guitar in the distance blended with the lapping of waves on the hull of the boat. Her nose twitched as she held back sniffles.

  “You okay?” With a sympathetic gaze, John brushed a falling tear from her cheek.

  She nodded then frowned with a slight shake of her head. “I don’t know what I am right now. I just feel all weird and confused.”

  She wiped her nose with the tissue she held balled in her hand.

  He hooked his finger beneath her chin, raised her gaze.

  “It’s just…you’re so tough, yet sweet and you’re so good-looking and your family—” She hesitated, adding in a quiet whisper, “Are you really like this?

  She provoked a slight grimace from him, and his eyes tugged into a deep squint. “Yes, baby. I’m real.”

  No man had ever called her baby, and she was certain she would’ve found it insulting if they had. But the way he said it launched fireworks through her veins. “I mean honestly? All the time?”

  “This is who I am. I sure as hell wouldn’t put on an act or pretend to be something I’m not. Not for anyone.”

  A strange, unfamiliar feeling of satisfaction rippled down her spine. She quivered. Shayla dug her toes in the sand, glancing sideways at the small boat approaching the beach. Feeling the smooth texture of his skin against her face and the warmth of his breath at her ear, she released a small, pleasurable sigh.