Jahleel (10 page)

“Ugh. Lawd,” I grunted when I spotted Tiara making a beeline to our table.

Tiara Minott—nigh six feet tall in heels. Long, platinum-blonde hair with not a strand out of place. Big, bright blue eyes, and an impeccably white, L.A. girl smile.

In a sparkly silver dress that stopped mid-thighs, showing off her toned, tanned long legs, she was stunning. I used to love how impeccable she was, and I never went without complimenting her. Now, I wouldn’t, because she’d given me reason envy to her.

She had what I wanted. Craved.

Laughing into her drink, Amanda mumbled, “What did the poor girl do to you? Except sleep with a man who’s
not,
I repeat
, not
into you? Don’t be mean to her, Kia. Tiara adores you.”

“Blah.”

Tiara approached with her blinding smile. “Saskia, you came!”

My manager forced me
. “Wouldn’t have missed this for the world, Tiara. I heard the concert was a bang, yeah? Congrats!”

She swung her arms around me and hugged me tight. “Awe, thanks. Never in a million years… It feels
so
good to be this high.”

Don’t flatter yourself, it was only a concert. The real, stressing work is yet to begin.
“I know right? You girls are fucking incandescent. No worries, it only gets better, trust me.”

She pulled from the embrace, grinned at me then drew me in for another tight hug. “I so totally adore you. You’re awesome, Saskia.”

Amanda cleared her throat, and I knew she was laughing at my expense, but Tiara took it differently, thinking Amanda felt neglected.

Turning to her, Tiara gave her a hug, too. “Amanda, I’m so sorry!”

“Not a problem,” Amanda squeaked.

“
Love
your new haircut, by the way,” she complimented.

“Thanks!” she squeaked again, peering over Tiara’s shoulder. I wondered why in the world she kept squeaking. It was so unlike her.

A passer-by stopped and touched Tiara, congratulating her. Amanda took the opportunity to lean over to me, whispering, “Twelve o’clock. Ohmi
fucking
god…”

Glancing in the direction she indicated, my gaze immediately clashed with Chad’s. In all-black again, he was rather casual for the event, in close-fitted jeans, plain V-neck tee, and a cross pendant chain around his neck. His hair a wild, wild, but sexy mess.

Bloody hell, he was scrumptious.

One elbow on the counter, feet crossed at the ankles, he was leaning against the circular stainless steel bar right across from where we sat. He kept his head down, creating the illusion he was looking into the brandy snifter in his hand, but his eyes were raised and staring straight at me.

“Shite,” I whispered. “What’s he doing here?”

Before she could answer, Tiara spun back around from her conversation, caught us staring and followed our gazes. “Chad,” she breathed. “Freakin’ hot, isn’t he? Don’t bother looking, though. He’s a hard one to catch.
Way
too picky.”

Now, this,
this
irritated me. Turning to her, I tried not to sound acerbic, “Heard you’re with his best friend, yeah?”

“JK,” she whispered to herself, almost like a prayer. Then she spat, “He’s an asshole. Fucks around. Total commitment-phobe.”

Taking a deep breath, she blinked rapidly, looking upwards as if fighting to hold back tears. “Excuse me,” she croaked out, then turned and broke into a jog, disappearing through the crowd. No doubt about to go lock herself in a bathroom to bawl her eyes out.

“Soooo glad I’m over that dude.”

Amanda scoffed. “Yeah, right.”

Tossing my hair over my shoulder, I said, “I’ll prove it”, then slid off the stool and started over towards Chad, leaving Amanda with an amused smirk on her face.

Chad kept his eyes on me as I sashayed over to the bar, pulled up a stool next to him and sat with one leg crossed over the other, hip provocatively jutted out. The ole flirt pose.

Chad watched me with a slightly raised brow, gaze traveling from my legs straight up, landing dead on my face. Bringing his snifter of amber liquid to his lips, he took a slow sip, peering over the rim. Then, lowering the glass, he licked his lower lip and asked, “You came over here to flirt with me, Saskia?”

Tossing my hair again—which was so unlike me, by the way—I peered at him from under my lashes. “Maybe.”

With a slight shake of his head, he made a disappointed sound and turned his gaze from me, out to the crowd. “You might wanna go back over there, then, because I hate women who flirt.”

Splat
. I felt as if he just took my head and shoved it into a pile of cow dodo. “What?”

Turning to face me, he dipped one long finger into his drink and absentmindedly began circling it, the cubes of ice clinking against the glass. And I imagined that one long,
wet
finger moving in that same circular movement over my clitoris…

“Flirting is an act,” he said, breaking through my inappropriate thoughts. “It’s not real. I’m attracted to
real
. Very attracted to women who keep their mouths shut and allow me to read what they want on their faces, in their eyes. Because that’s where the truth lies.”

Removing his wet finger from the glass, he slipped it in his mouth and sucked it off as if it was nothing. As if women who were watching from afar wouldn’t faint at the mere act, wishing it was their finger between those shapely lips. Did he have
any
idea how hot he was?

“I thought you were real, Saskia,” he continued in that disillusioned tone. “Guess I misread. Sorry.”

He turned and redirected his attention out to the crowd, as if dismissing me.

The hell? Did he not realize who I was? “You’re saying I’m fake?”

He took a sip of his drink, and replied without looking at me, “Now? Yeah.” Tilting his head to the side, he angled it to look at me without turning his body, seemingly annoyed and a little ticked. “This,” he motioned a hand to indicate my provocative pose, “is being done to prove a point.”

Turning back to me fully now, he took a step forward and leaned into me. “I do a lot of things, Saskia, but playing games is not one of them.” Jerking his head to the left, he said quietly, “Maybe
that’s
where you really want to be?”

I looked to my left where he indicated, and my breath hitched audibly. It was
this
feeling—this breath-stealing, mind-numbing, tongue-tied feeling that I
always
got whenever I saw him that made it damn well impossible for me to get over him.

I couldn’t.

I just couldn’t.

At a mere glimpse of him, my heartbeat sped off on a wild race beneath my rib cage. This was fucking ridiculous!

Why? Why? Why did I crave him this much?

Casual in faded jeans, Timberlands, and a red T-shirt with a black skull face on the front, he was sitting on an ottoman across from Ferbie, engaged in deep conversation, hand movements and all. The strangest sight. Who the hell held deep conversations with
Ferbie
?

When he set his drink down on the table between them and proceeded to move his wrist in some weird circular movement that Ferbie mimicked, I deduced they were talking about dancing.

“I’m not sure why you’d think tha—” I turned my head back around to see that Chad had vanished. Like smoke.

Jesus, I suck.

Amanda was by my side at the bar in the next minute. “So?”

“He’s just as much of a wanker as JK,” I groused bitterly.

“What did he say?”

“That I’m fake.”

Bursting into laughter, Amanda shook her head. “Christ, Kia, you suck. Big time. How’d you manage to piss off a guy who’s so obviously into you, in less than five minutes?”

“I barely got a sentence out!” I complained, wanting to laugh at the absurdity of it. “That man’s got bloody issues.”

Amanda laughed again and knocked her knuckles on the bar to get the bartender’s attention. “Two shots of Coffee Patrón, please.”

“Make that a double for me,” I added, and the bartender nodded.

Arching a brow, my best friend inquired, “What’s up with you tonight?”

“JK,” I grimaced, I inclined my head to the left. “I’m going over to talk to him. Maybe facing him with friendly expectations will help me get over him.”

“So, you
weren’t
over him before, then?” Amanda teased as the bartender placed the shots down for us.

I knocked back the first shot without a wince. “Just shut the hell up.” Down went the second one before I slid off the stool and said, “Wish me luck with this one.”

I wove through the throngs of people, forcing a smile each time someone stopped me with some kind of gibberish. This made the short journey from the bar to Jahleel a ten minute trip.

Jahleel and Ferbie maintained their deep discussion as I approached, until Ferbie looked up and saw me. “Aye, Ma. You ready already?”

Jahleel glanced up, and down my body his eyes roved. Then…there it was, the look he had when I walked into his studio the other day. That lustful look: where he sank his teeth down on his full, desirable lower lip and blatantly stared. But just as soon as it appeared, it left as he slapped on a polite smile.

Gah!
That wasn’t the smile I wanted! I wanted the sexy, crooked smile he flashes at the women he sets his sights on.

“No, no,” I waved my hand, “I just came over to say ‘hi’ to your new mate.”

“Ah,” Ferbie stood up. “I’ve got to use the loo. I’ll leave you two at it, yeah?”

As Ferbie vacated, I took his seat.

Tossing my clutch on the table, I leaned forward toward the ottoman with my legs apart, elbows resting on my thighs.

Jahleel reached forward for his drink and brought up it to his lips, but I noticed the corners of his lips twitched.

That’s when it registered, and I looked down to take in my far too comfortable sitting position, like a guy. For a moment, I’d forgotten I was at an all-eyes-on-you function. But truth be told, this was the real me. It’s how I usually sat, or with my legs tossed on whatever piece of furniture was in front of me. Lion hated it, and never ceased to reprimand me for it. The provocative leg-crossed-over-the-knee thing isn’t me. Not surprising Chad saw straight through me. Because I
was
being fake; flirting only to prove a point to Amanda.

But it was too late to act coy now. Jahleel would just be all the more amused if I adjusted my sitting position now, so I remained as I was and waited for him to swallow his smile.

When he lowered the glass from his lips, I spoke first, “Can I ask you a question?”

“Shoot.”

“Ferbie’s my brother, and I love him dearly,” I began, “But for the life of me, I can’t understand what
you
see in the fella. No one, and I mean no one, has ever held a conversation with him for more than five minutes, if that long.”

Jahleel chuckled, one coming so deep from his throat, it vibrated and caused caressing waves to surge through me, making me sigh with longing. “He’s got talent and he’s got depth.”

“D-D-
Depth
?” I sputtered with much incredulity.

He nodded, and he was serious as he went on, “You just gotta know how to pick his brain. Ask the right questions to make him dig deep and force him to think; activate his lazy brain. It takes patience. But he’s excellent at followin’ instructions, and he catches on unbelievably fast.” Looking down at his glass, he smiled, “You just need to get him to stop saying ‘Aye’. Seriously, who the fuck says ‘Aye’ except for Christopher Columbus every time he discovers new territory?”

I could see him fighting to hold back a laugh, maybe thinking I’d take offense to it. But when he glanced up and saw me biting down on my lip to hold in my own laugh, we both laughed. I had no idea why Ferbie spoke the way he did.

“Were your parents drunk when they named him?”

For some reason, I didn’t take offense to his question, because it didn’t feel like he was making fun of Ferbie’ slowness. I could tell he genuinely liked Ferbie, and was having fun as a good friend or family member who loves him would. A good-natured tease.

“Maybe,” I said, looking away. “They
were
drunks.”

“Yeah?”

“Uh huh. My sister’s name is Timberly.”

“The fuck?” he laughed.

“Then there’s my name—Saskia.”

The laugh I expected never came, and when I shifted my gaze back to him, he was staring at me with
that
look.

“Saskia is one of the sexiest names I’ve ever heard.”

Except you mispronounced it five years ago…

His stare dropped to my mouth. “And it suits you…more than I think you even know.”

Aiming to remain calm, I moved my gaze from him once more.

The look I’d always wanted from him, always dreamt of, I was finally getting it. But, it was too much for me to handle. Too intense. Too demanding. Too probing. He was a lot. A fuck of a lot. And I was just one girl.

In that moment, it dawned on me that even if I won him, I wouldn’t be able to contain him. He was a beast, and I didn’t have the skills to tame him. I guess, sometimes, it’s better to just look, fantasize and don’t bother touching.

He cleared his throat. I heard it. The ice clinked in his glass. I heard it. He tried to pull my attention back to him, but I kept my eyes off him, fighting to avoid that penetrating gaze.

Until he spoke. “Chad’s here, you know.”

When I warily slid my gaze back to him, he’d leaned forward on the ottoman, mimicking my position, elbows dropped on his knees as he watched me intently, not giving me a break from his stare.

All of a sudden, I
didn’t
want to be the subject of his stare. Bloody hell, it was unnerving! I’d been begging for it, pining for it, and now I couldn’t handle it. Not even a small percentage of it.

“I know,” I croaked. Digging for a stronger voice, I cleared my throat. “I spoke with him a while ago.”

“You’re his type.”

“I wish,” I scoffed. “He thinks I’m fake.”

As if he was expecting a different answer from me, he sniffed and turned his gaze out to the crowd, the skin around his eyes tightening. “Want me to talk to him for you?”