Johnny (Connelly Cousins #2) (3 page)

Lina also took Stacey by Tiny’s Tattoos, calling him the ‘Rembrandt of tats’. After seeing the design he’d created for Lina, she made up her mind to get one herself. They spent a fun afternoon looking through possible designs before finally deciding on a dragon wrapped around her left ankle. As a special favor to Lina, Tiny stayed late and did it for her that very evening.

Friday was “spa day”. Lina and Stacey spent most of the day at the local salon and spa, being primped and pampered with soaks, wraps, massages, facials, mani-pedi’s, and waxes while sipping margaritas. It was the most relaxing day Stacey had in a long time.

By Friday night, Stacey wondered why she hadn’t done this sooner. She leaned back in her chair with a contented sigh. The past forty-eight hours had done more good than all of her sessions with over-priced therapists combined. She was having
fun
. She couldn’t remember when she had last smiled so much, or when her heart had felt so light. Yet no matter how wonderful the last two days had been, her wheelchair never let her forget her reality completely.

Lina was a doll. Not once had she badgered Stacey about her injuries or her prognosis. They had done a great job of ignoring the proverbial elephant in the room. As it turned out, it was Stacey who finally broached the subject.

“I don’t blame you, you know.” Stacey’s quiet words made Lina pause as she was shoving a few things into an overnight bag. They were expecting Kyle home any minute to drive them up to the cabin. Lina said nothing and resumed packing.

“Lina.” Stacey moved beside her. “Please look at me.” Lina sat on the edge of her bed, biting her bottom lip and twisting her hands in her lap. The familiar tell almost made Stacey smile. She’d forgotten how Lina had done those things when she was unsure or nervous.

“There’s still hope, you know, remote though it might be. They’re coming up with new procedures all the time.”

“How many have you had?” Lina asked, her voice even quieter.

“A few,” she admitted. “It doesn’t matter, Lina. I can’t give up. I want my life back.”

“You are a beautiful, caring, hugely successful woman. Isn’t that a life?”

“For some, maybe, but it’s not
me
. I want to ride on a bike again, Lina, and feel the wind whip through my hair. I want to drive fast, sporty cars. Go white water rafting. Spend the entire month of February in Vail, skiing during the day and warming by the fire at night.”

“But you
can
do those things.”

A sad smile played about her lips. “You sound like one of my therapists. Technically, and to a certain degree, you’re right,” Stacey agreed. “But it’s not the same. It’s not enough. I want the Harley, not the sidecar. The Shelby Terminator, not the handicapped-friendly van. Don’t you see? I want to
walk
into a room and have heads turn because of the way I look or what I’m wearing, not because my chair can’t quite fit through the door.”

Stacey took both of Lina’s hands in hers. She needed her to understand. “I want to be able to wrap my legs around a man while he’s making love to me, Lina.” She smiled sadly. “Hell, I want a man to
want
to make love to me again.”

Eyes filled with unshed tears, Lina wrapped her arms around her. “I’m sorry, Stace. I cannot even imagine what it’s like for you. You have my support always, no matter what, you know that. Just stop selling yourself short, okay?  You’re still the same person on the inside. You are vibrant, caring, and creative. And you’re like a sister to me.”

As touched as she was by those words, Lina was wrong. Stacey was
not
the same person. It was so easy to pretend when she was here with Lina, but eventually she had to go home and face the cold hard reality of her life again. Correction – eventually she had to go back to her apartment. It was a place, not a home.

But she didn’t need to tell Lina any of that.

“I’m glad I came, Lina.” Stacey said, stroking Lina’s hair.

“Me too, Stace.”

It was getting dark by the time they got to the cabin that night. Lina gave Stacey a quick tour of the first floor, showed her where everything was and how to use it. Kyle fashioned a makeshift ramp from some planks he’d found in the garage so Stacey could relax in the sunken living room and enjoy the spectacular view. After building a fire, he claimed exhaustion and left the two women chatting well into the night.

When Lina and Kyle left early the next morning, Lina made her promise to be careful and to call if she needed anything at all between then and the following weekend. She felt uncomfortable leaving Stacey at the cabin by herself, but Stacey assured her that she’d be fine. She was, after all, used to being alone, and wanted nothing more than the peace and solitude she needed to complete her novel. She promised Lina with a conspiratorial wink that it would be her best ever.

S
tacey set herself up for a marathon writing session, gathering everything she needed. Fresh pot of coffee, check. Sweet and salty snacks, check. An imagination brimming with ideas, check and double-check!

For the first time in years, she’d gone three entire days without writing a single word. Now she was rested, rejuvenated, and primed to immerse herself in the land of romantic fantasy and not come out till she crafted some magic. Her fingers tingled with excitement, anxious to begin.

Outside, it was a picture-perfect day. Crystal clear blue skies and bright sunshine provided a stunning backdrop for the purplish-gray stone of the mountains, visible only in occasional glimpses between the dark, rich greens of the forest. Stacey was able to see it all from the huge, floor-to-ceiling windows that made up the entire southern wall of the cabin’s living room. She could even look down upon the deep midnight blue of the lake from her scenic perch, capturing the diamond-like shimmers of the reflected light a mile or so away. Lina had told her that her father had built this cabin when they were kids. The man obviously had a talent for recognizing perfection.

The beauty and serenity of the place further inspired her, and the moment she opened her laptop, words began to flow effortlessly from her mind, through her fingers, and onto her hard drive. For the first time in a long time, Stacey really got into her story, using words to make the private world she envisioned in her mind come to life. She didn’t just write the words, she
felt
them. Trancelike, she let herself go and created a magical story of romance and passion that was sure to reach out and pull in anyone who opened the cover.

When she encountered the occasional snag, she sat back and tried to imagine Kyle and Lina in the same situation as her hero and heroine. Those two were the real deal. If she managed to capture even a fraction of the love and passion that thrummed between them, she’d have another best-seller on her hands.

Usually it took several weeks, sometimes months for her to take a story from start to finish. Each one was unique; she didn’t understand writers who made each book a carbon copy of the last, changing only a name here or a profession there.

The only constant from one book to the next (besides steamy scenes hot enough to earn her an offer for a Salienne Dulcette line of personal pleasure toys for adults) was that her stories would always have a happy ending, though what made them happy was often surprising. Stacey had a way of weaving emotions and instinctual reactions into her novels so suddenly that readers often found themselves smiling in triumph, seething with rage, crying silently as they turned the pages, or – probably the reason most women enjoyed her books – feeling a hunger in their core that had nothing to do with food.

Stacey believed that at least part of her success was due to the fact that her characters were so real to her; she often joked that she had fallen madly in love with every one of her leading men, and had a sister-close bond with her heroines. Her depictions were vivid and explicit, masterful blends of romance and passion that promised an escape from the everyday.

Today, she was unstoppable. Her fingers flew over the keyboard, struggling to keep up with the scenes forming in her mind. She wrote non-stop for hours, taking only occasional breaks to visit the bathroom or refill her snack bowl. Somewhere around mid-afternoon, she finished off the coffee and started partaking of the fruit-flavored, malt beverages she found in the fridge. They were cold and refreshing, with just enough alcohol to keep her relaxed and in the mood.

When the room began to darken, Stacey hit CTRL+S to save her work and lifted her arms, giving her back and neck a much-needed stretch. She’d just completed a particularly intricate scene, an emotional clash that ended in an epically hot sex scene (if she did say so herself). A quick glance at the wood-and-brass clock on the far wall told her she’d been at it for a good twelve hours, give or take. Not too shabby for a woman who, a week ago, was struggling with a gargantuan case of writer’s block.

Time was flying by, the words bubbling up and flowing from her like water from a mountain spring. Everything about Lina’s cabin was conducive to creating a world of idealized romantic escapes. Forget inspirational jaunts to exotic locales; she was going to talk to Lina about booking this cabin at least once every season. As gorgeous as it was in summer, she could imagine how beautiful it would be in autumn, when the leaves turned brilliant shades of red and flaming oranges. And in winter, with everything covered in a pristine blanket of sparkling white. And of course spring, when the redbuds, lilacs, forsythia, and flowering pears, cherries, and dogwoods painted the entire canvas with a wash of fresh, vibrant color.

Stacey leaned back, re-reading the last few pages with a smile. This stuff was gold! Smoking-hot, slide right off your chair gold. She knew it was good when she felt heat building between her own legs. Her agent – and hopefully her fans – were going to
love
this new piece.

For tonight, though, she was typed out. Her muscles were achy and stiff from sitting in one place for too long, her eyes blurry from staring at the screen. She was quite pleased with what she’d accomplished, and could only hope that the rest of the week would be just as satisfying and productive.

Her stomach rumbled, reminding her that she hadn’t eaten a decent meal since breakfast. It hadn’t bothered her until then; she’d been so absorbed in writing that she hadn’t wanted to stop, and the little snack bags of dried fruit and nuts had kept her energy levels sufficiently up.

Hungry, but not wanting to make a mess, Stacey opted for making herself a sandwich. Lina had stocked the fridge with no less than five different varieties of cold cuts and at least as many cheeses. Besides, Lina had warned her that the fresh hard rolls from the Birch Falls bakery wouldn’t last for more than a few days, and there was no way Stacey was going to allow those delectable goodies to go to waste.

Grabbing the remote from the counter top, Stacey turned on the stereo. Speakers mounted in strategic places around the walls came to life, surrounding her with the perfect blend of bass and treble. Humming along with the soft rock, she skillfully sliced up a tomato to add to her creation, then added some crisp lettuce and a few bread-and-butter pickle slices.

That first bite was nearly orgasmic. Stacey closed her eyes and savored the flavors. It was so much better than the frozen, nutritionally balanced crap she was used to eating. Since she wasn’t as physically active as she used to be, watching her diet was a necessity. Though she was adamant about keeping herself in decent shape (her personal trainer/physical therapist was the quintessential sadist), the last few years had turned her lean, athletic curves admittedly lush.

Indulging in her favorites a few times a year was definitely do-able, though. She added a mandatory stop at the Birch Falls deli and bakery to her list of must-do’s when staying at the cabin from now on.

With her hunger assuaged and her inner author taking a much-needed break, Stacey did a quick clean-up of the kitchen and headed for the hot tub. It was a big, gorgeous thing, filled with hot, fragrant water. Lina had been worried about her using it while she was alone at the cabin, but Stacey assured her she would be just fine. After five years of physical therapy, she’d become adept at getting herself in and out of pools, whirlpools and Jacuzzis, and swimming was an integral part of her program.

Like the sunken living room, the enclosed deck containing the hot tub had one wall consisting primarily of windows. What made this room even better were the massive skylights above, providing an unimpeded view of the night sky. A brilliant array of stars winked down at her, the inky black backdrop awash with silver from the unusually large full moon.

Inside, dark hardwood flooring extended in a geometric pattern outward from the sunken tub.  A small bar took up the far corner, with a flat screen mounted above it. In the other corner was a small changing room, framed by shelves of large, fluffy towels and a few hooks holding terry-cloth robes. Modest indoor palm trees and large ferns in neutral-colored ceramic pots were artfully arranged with colorful, blooming plants, lending a tropical atmosphere.

Stacey dialed the recessed lighting down low and breathed in a lungful of the hot, humid air. She briefly considered changing into her swimsuit, but then dismissed the idea. Why bother when she had the place to herself? It wasn’t like anyone would see her, except for possibly a few curious woodland creatures, and she didn’t think they’d be offended.

Tingling with a long-forgotten sense of naughtiness, Stacey slipped out of her clothes and eased herself into the hot, bubbling water. With a flick of her finger, she turned on the powerful jets and sank into their heavenly massaging currents.

It was the perfect end to a perfect day.

“N
ot tonight,” Johnny told the attractive brunette fluttering her fake eyelashes up at him. Her shiny crimson lips formed into a classic pout. Another time, that might have swayed him to take her up on her offer, but he just wasn’t feeling it. To soften the rejection, he gave her ass an encouraging pat and a little squeeze.