Reye's Gold (Indigo)
Reye’s Gold
Ruthie Robinson
Genesis Press, Inc.
INDIGO LOVE SPECTRUM
An imprint of Genesis Press, Inc.
Publishing Company
Genesis Press, Inc.
P.O. Box 101
Columbus, MS 39703
All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical, or other means, not known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying, and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without written permission of the publisher, Genesis Press, Inc. For information write Genesis Press, Inc., P.O. Box 101, Columbus, MS 39703.
All characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author and all incidents are pure invention.
Copyright © 2010 Ruthie Robinson
ISBN-13: 978-1-58571-505-3
ISBN-10: 1-58571-505-0
Manufactured in the United States of America
Visit us at www.genesis-press.com
or call at 1-888-Indigo-1-4-0
DEDICATION
To Ronnie for 22 years of putting up with my crazy self. Love you more than you’ll ever know.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
A huge shout out to Winnie, Linda, Andrea, Gwendy Gayle, Cassie, Lisa J, for your invaluable feedback and support.
PART ONE
Chapter 1
Growing up the only girl in a family of four older brothers offered mucho benefits for Reye Jackson: an endless supply of boys to ogle, protection and assistance in a fight, and four escorts held in reserve, for use only under extreme and dire conditions. Being the only aunt also offered up mucho benefits from the nieces and nephews of said older brothers, in the form of gifts, adoration, and copious amounts of hugs and kisses. Today, however, “only” was a dirty word in Reye’s vocabulary, and not the dirty associated with sex, either. “Only” was responsible for her current plight, running to catch her airplane ride home.
She was late, and Reye hated, hated, hated being late. She’d overslept this morning and had to haul ass or miss her flight back home to Austin. She was returning from Fort Worth, where she’d spent time babysitting for her oldest brother, Jack, and his wife. Her sister-in-law, Neeci, had been a bridesmaid in a wedding held in New York, the city that never slept. Seeing and seizing an opportunity to turn a weekend wedding engagement into a week’s vacation, the couple had called the only aunt late one night, when she was only partially awake. Somehow, the only aunt had volunteered to watch the kids for a week. Not one child, mind you, but three children.
Count them and weep: ages two, not potty trained; five, an energetic boy; and twelve, the smart-aleck diva. This week, she’d answered questions, read stories, played in the park, texted until her fingers were numb, and sat on the potty long enough to last her a lifetime.
So, now a harried, perturbed, and exhausted aunt hurried to leave for the airport. The alarm hadn’t gone off, and so it was now nine-fifteen. Her flight was scheduled to leave in forty-five minutes. Seeing to the needs of three children was major hard work, and, in addition to the week’s child dramas, their parents’ return flight had been delayed. Her brother and his wife had arrived home at nearly two in the morning. The only aunt had waited up, and they’d all snored happily late into the following morning, kids included, until, thankfully, her mother had called.
Reye didn’t spend a lot of time pampering and getting dressed, making up some time. Her short locks made at least her hair relatively maintenance-free. If only she could have driven herself to the airport she would have made it easily, with time to spare even, but her brother had slid behind the wheel of the family’s minivan, turning into the world’s safest driver. Of her brothers, Jack had always been the speed demon. Not anymore; his speed genes had been lost for good. He’d apparently traded in a perfectly good speeding record for the protection and safety of his kids.
Pulling up to the curb of the airport now, Reye turned to him, gathering her backpack and single suitcase. “Thanks for the lift,” she said and leaned over to kiss his cheek. “Don’t call me the next time you need a babysitter.” He laughed while she grabbed her bags and high-tailed it for the doors.
She found the first class check-in line for her airline carrier thankfully short, and parked herself at the end of it. While she waited, she took a moment to look over her potential traveling companions, all lined up like sliced bread, waiting for assistance. An older African-American couple well into their sixties stood immediately in front of her, holding hands while waiting their turn. She hoped that when she reached their age, she would have someone that she loved enough to want to hold hands with, too. The couple reminded her of her parents, who had been together for forty-five years.
Directly ahead of the older couple stood a tall woman, whose commanding, confident manner and dress pronounced her a business executive, probably at home in any American boardroom. Reye envied the drive that women like her had. She yearned to have an innate knowledge of her life’s true purpose. Life had to be easier, run smoother, if you knew where you were supposed to go.
Her eyes continued their travel, halting and resting on the next person in line. Talk about F.I.N.E.! This boy was all that and a bag of chips! GQ kinda fine! And Reye knew fine. She had always held an appreciation for men, regardless of their color. Man-child could be red, white, blue, or green, it didn’t matter. She’d studied and watched them with a passion for as long as she could remember, enjoying the way they moved, the way they breathed, and even the way they smelled after a hard game of soccer.
Okay, that was her personal fetish, but so what. She loved the play of their muscles when engaged in activity, running, walking, or just plain ol’ standing still.
Momentarily setting aside her rush, she paused for a minute to take in this excellent specimen of manhood set before her. Nice! she thought. Very nice, indeed. He was tall, about two inches over her height, maybe six feet, two inches or so. He was white, well, more golden, actually. He probably spent major time outdoors. She hadn’t dated any white boys before, but she appreciated them nonetheless. Tall and lean this one was, with nice toned legs, not too thick but well defined. He had on those long, too big cargo shorts that all men wore these days, resting very nicely on an excellent butt, and no one appreciated butts more than she. His feet were encased in brown leather sandals that supported some nice long feet. Hmm, Reye mused, didn’t feet imply a little “somethin’ somethin’” about a man’s appendages? Her eyes traveled back up, lingering again on his butt, before moving further up to take in a nice trim torso.
Just then he had turned to face Reye, providing her with a nice view of a well-developed chest outfitted in a snug t-shirt that must love being on that body. Squinting, she peered intently at his stomach. Was that a six-pack? Maybe, could be, the shirt would have to go to be sure. Continuing upward on her personal tour, she encountered a pair of striking blue eyes, set in a very handsome face, topped off nicely by a thick head of short, black, curly hair. Affixed to his face was a slightly wicked smile, where full lips sat surrounding perfect white teeth. She was sure it had lured many a girl over to the dark side. Wondering at that smile, she discreetly looked behind to find its intended recipient. Nope, no one stood behind her. Okay, could he be smiling at her? Not bloody likely, she thought, borrowing her favorite British term. Slowly turning around she looked to her left and right, nope, no one there either. She found his eyes again, and yes, he was still smiling, and yes, that smile was, in fact, directed at her
. He’d cocked an eyebrow as if to say, “Yeah, I see you.” Apparently he hadn’t minded Reye’s perusal, so she smiled back, because something that good should be recognized and appreciated. Her smile said “yes, you caught me, and yes, you do look that good.”
He was called up next to the counter, putting an end to her peep show. You could tell the counter girl was giving him the once-over, too. Reye could certainly understand and sympathize. What must it feel like to him, to be on the receiving end of nonstop admiration? That was so not her problem. Men usually found her height off-putting, not moving beyond that point. The ones that weren’t deterred usually had their own brand of issues that limited their appeal to her.
Two ticket agents, both women, worked the airline’s counter. A young, petite redhead had begun to assist the golden one, Reye’s nickname for the gorgeous male specimen in line, and was taking her time about it, too. The other ticket agent was much older, with short salt and pepper hair curling over a plain, nondescript face, her persona efficient and no-nonsense. The lady in the business attire moved to the counter next and was quickly helped and sent on her way. That left the older couple immediately in front of Reye, who were called and moved up for service. Only Reye remained in line, and it was now 9:45. “Okay, let’s get moving,” she whispered under her breath, not too loudly; the last thing she wanted to do was piss off the ticket agents. He was still at the counter. Reye rolled her eyes and checked her watch again, fighting against tapping her feet to show her impatience. The golden one was proving to be a distraction, and, beautiful or not, she had a plane to catch. The ticket agent helping him appeared intent on starting a conversation, fluttering her eyelashes, her smile broad, talking rather than processing.
The older couple was dispatched and finally it was her turn. “Welcome to the National Airlines. Destination?” the agent said, holding her hand out toward Reye for her ticket.
“Austin, Texas, and I’m running late,” announced Reye softly, adding a hint of pleading in her voice, as she approached the counter. The golden one looked up sharply, giving her a considering look. Apparently he’d been listening and watching, passing along another smile to Reye, to the annoyance of the redheaded ticket agent.
“No problem,” Reye’s attendant said, examining Reye’s paper work. Finding it in order, she checked in her suitcase and handed a boarding pass to her. Now she needed to make a fast and speedy trek to the gate. “I’ll call ahead to inform the attendants at your gate that the two of you are running late.” What, the golden one was going to Austin, too? Reye’s head snapped around to find him watching her. With a small nod of his head, he confirmed the ticket agent’s comment. She thanked her agent, grabbed her ticket, and proceeded to the gate.
The golden one had left the counter seconds before her, moving quickly through the terminal, his height an unknowing marker as he moved through the crowds, her personal beacon. She kept him in her sights as she took off her shoes and threw her backpack in the tub and walked through the security checkpoint. He’d cleared first, and she was not far behind. He was fast, but playing soccer and running track kept Reye in great shape, so maintaining his pace wasn’t difficult. Unfortunately she’d kept her eye on him and not the other passengers, accidentally tripping over something in her path, a large canister for carrying art attached to the arm of an elderly man. Crap, she thought, struggling to remain on her feet.
* * *
Stephen had moved steadily toward the gate, keeping the pretty girl from the ticket counter in his peripheral vision. He’d noticed her at the counter giving him the once-over. Having grown accustomed to second glances and women staring, he rarely paid attention, picking and choosing among them when he was motivated. This one was tall with caramel-colored skin and beautiful long, muscular legs. He was first and foremost a leg man. Those long legs were showcased in form-fitting knee length khaki shorts, an equally form fitting t-shirt wrapped around her well-toned body. It was rare to meet women who could match him in the height department, but she was close. She had short curly hair, dreadlocks, he thought they were called, reminding him of Bob Marley’s hair; only there were more of them, the strands thinner somehow, spiky even. They framed a really pretty face, which sported a charming and captivating smile, one that was slightly mischievous in its delivery, instantly inciting in him a yearning to taste. He’d heard the commotion behind him, turning in time to witness her trip over something in her path.
He decided to go back to help—a very uncommon impulse, he rarely went out of his way for strangers—but he walked back quickly and found her bent over an older gentleman, apologizing profusely and picking up items that had fallen to the floor. She looked up at him, surprise marking her face, swiftly replaced by cool. He watched her as she continued to retrieve the old man’s items from the floor, her close proximity allowing him opportunity for a more thorough appraisal. His eyes roamed over mouth-watering legs that tapered into curvy hips, and, courtesy of her current bent position, a nice ass. Hers was just the way he liked them, firm, round, and visible. The view of her from the front was limited by the same bending, but she was prettier than he’d thought at first glance. Full, shapely lips circled even white teeth, long brown eyelashes fell over sparkly brown eyes, smooth caramel skin poured over a heart-shaped face. Beautiful.
Satisfied that she’d picked up everything, she apologized again and shouldered her backpack, preparing to leave. “Let me give you a hand,” Stephen said, extending his hand to her. Desire warred with trust in her eyes. “I don’t usually accept assistance from men I don’t know.”
“And I don’t usually offer it,” he responded, a slight smile on his lips. “I’m Stephen, if that helps any.”
He watched the two seconds it took for her to reach some internal conclusion before accepting his hand.
“Nice to meet you, Stephen, I’m Reye. Thanks for coming back for me.”
“No problem, but we’d better get going if we’re going to make this flight,” he said, turning in the direction of their gate.
“Okay, you lead, and I’ll follow.”
* * *
Reye, her hand in his, trailed in his wake, continuing to observe him as they resumed their journey to the gate. He was even more attractive up close. He was sexy and self-confident. His hand enclosed hers in a strong and sure grip. His long legs ate up the distance to their gate. He had to have played football, Reye thought, judging by the way he wove between people as if this were the last play of the Super Bowl and the game’s outcome rested squarely on his shoulders. “Excuse me, excuse me,” he said to no one and everyone, increasing his pace. Reye held on for dear life as he sprinted the last twenty yards to the counter.
As quickly as he’d sprinted, he stopped. Whoa, Reye said to herself as she rammed into his back. “Ump,” he said as she plowed into him and bounced off, landing on the floor, hard on her butt, her backpack partially breaking her fall, her legs stretched out in opposite directions. This was clearly not how she wanted her time with him to end. She lay there for a minute testing her body parts for breakage, more than a little embarrassed. She looked up into the concerned faces of Stephen and the flight attendant, who were scanning her for any obvious injury.
“Are you hurt?” they asked in unison. Trying to catch her breath and feeling like an idiot, she laughed. “I’m fine,” she said between chuckles. “Did we make the flight?”
“Yes,” the flight attendant said as she grinned back at Reye. Reye didn’t look over at Stephen, not wanting to see his reaction to her fall.
He helped her to her feet and the attendant handed them their boarding passes. She stepped back to allow them to proceed to the airplane, Stephen behind Reye. Entering the first class section, Reye arrived at her seat, 2B. It was an aisle seat, always her preference because otherwise she felt caged in. An elderly woman sat next to her reading a book, a good sign; hopefully that meant a quiet ride home so she could get some sleep. She put her backpack in the overhead compartment as she, out of the corner of her
eye, watched Stephen take his seat in row four, making note of the empty window seat next to him. She sat down, fastening her seat belt, half listening as the flight attendant performed the mandatory what-to-doin-case-of-an-emergency speech. The plane took off and Reye settled back in her seat, waiting for her complementary drink and bag of peanuts.
She was bone tired. Her body was anyway, even though her mind had started racing around seeking the answer to the obvious question. Should she or shouldn’t she move to the seat that was open next to Stephen? Her inner voice resisted, arguing against further invasion. Give the poor boy a rest, it said. Taking small, inconspicuous glances over her shoulder, she tried to gauge his interest, finally deciding to leave him alone. Recounting her morning adventures reinforced her decision to stay put. Let’s see, she’d been caught ogling him, assisted through the airport by him, and then ran into his back. She had her limits.
Stephen smiled to himself as he watched Reye watch him. He had an unobstructed view of her. She had been entertaining and sexy, not a bad combination. He was intrigued by the variety of personalities she’d displayed so far, bold in her examination of him as they’d waited in line, sexy when returning his smile, and funny as hell when she bumped into him and fell on her butt. She sat there, legs sprawled in different directions, laughing at herself. He’d had to turn his head to keep from joining in her laughter. So with this image in his mind, he caught the flight attendant’s attention and asked her to relay a message to the passenger in seat 2B. Fortunately, she was the same flight attendant who had witnessed Reye’s fall, and the smile she gave to him seemed to indicate her approval of his request.
“My pleasure, sir.”
Reye was resting her eyes behind her closed eyelids when someone touched her shoulder. She turned to see the flight attendant from earlier, now standing at her side. “There is an open seat in row four, next to the gentleman who helped you this morning. He asked if you would like to sit with him?”