Every now and then, all women are hit hard by the pretty-man syndrome, and Amber Donohue was no exception. She thought she’d had a case of pretty-man syndrome with Maurice some years ago but never quite succumbed. He was in love with himself, and after six months of doing everything he wanted to do, Amber was tired of it. Eventually she left him alone to have that single-minded love affair, and from what she last heard, he was still hovering somewhere over Lake Michigan with an engagement ring she had purchased. Amber moved on, but the syndrome struck her again, and hard.
For those unaware, the pretty-man syndrome is simply this: One day a man struts past you who’s so pretty and sexy that you can’t stand the sight of any other man. Upon contact with Jason DeMaras, Amber was caught in that infamous web; thus, this is the story of how Amber got her groove on.
The setting: Somerset Mall in Troy, Michigan—a place where those with money have a blast. For everyone else, window-shopping was the sport of the day. Amber didn’t give a damn about that. She may not have had the most money in the world, but she was fly as hell and dressed as though she were more than a mere jewelry shop owner. She had just gotten her hair done at Glamour Glitz; Jackie could certainly hook a girl up, and for the right price. Amber laid out the greenbacks and exited looking like the queen she was—hair in a short bob, longer on the neck and sides, make-up laid, making her pretty, fair complexion glow. The girl was boss with a capital B as she walked through Saks Fifth Avenue wearing tight black jeans, a crystal earring-necklace set, and a flowery pink and black top with a neckline so deep that a man’s toes would curl if he laid eyes on her.
She was heading through Somerset Mall because that was where all the juicy men were. Her mission at first was a pair of Ferragamo pumps, no shorter than three inches. They’d look cool for her sister’s wedding in July, but it was only May, and she planned on looking on jam way before that, and just for the heck of looking sexy to the men in the mall. Yes, she’d wear the pumps out of the store. Her second mission; looking at cute salesmen. Knowing Somerset, there would be a slew of them at her beck and damn call.
Neiman Marcus had their share of fine salesmen, but the shoes weren’t hot enough, being either too small, too large, or in the wrong color. Moving on! Gucci had the opposite—gorgeous shoes, yet out of her price range and salesmen who were nothing to write home about. Again, moving on.
There was a quaint little shoe boutique, Roma Shoes, on the other side of the mall near the MAC counter, a place she had to stop at, anyway. Why not make two trips in one, was her thinking. That boutique got her attention months back for two reasons. They had all the famous makers, like Sesto Meucci, Vaneli, everything Italian; but the main reason was that she saw something in there that almost blew her mind. It was a day she had to leave the house because nothing was going right, and she had to clear her mind. She entered Roma, not looking or feeling her best, but shoes always brought out the best in her. While window-shopping, a man whizzed by her who took her breath away. She couldn’t see his full face, but his profile was to kill for. He never faced her, but she exited the store staring at him. She left without shoes or the pretty man, but she never forgot him.
Six months later, Amber strolled back in there with her hair looking too together for even her own benefit and felt warning signs of the pretty-man syndrome again. She tried staying away from it because she knew she’d been hit hard just by looking at this fellow. Before she could get past the entrance, she saw him from the corner of her eye and knew who he was—that pretty-profile man from months back. She was really too nervous to look him straight in the face but knew it was the same man. She could feel it in her bones, let alone see it with her eyes: beautiful golden-bronze skin, big dark eyes, and a sexy little moustache just aching for a woman to run her tongue across it. If that wasn’t all that and a bag of chips, too, he was tall and sporting a beautiful physique. He was just looking too good in his butter yellow dress shirt, cinnamon brown slacks, and matching tie. Juicy!!
Amber pretended to be looking for a pair of heels, but her mind couldn’t concentrate on shoes after catching his scent. The only thing running through her mind was, Oh my God. I can’t believe he’s actually facing me, after wondering so long how handsome he was. Her own thoughts were making her nervous, sweaty, not knowing how she was going to react once coming face-to-face with him. She hadn’t expected him to be quite that beautiful. Slowly, she turned around to see if someone could look that good in real life.
He’d been talking to his coworker and Amber had gotten a hint of their conversation. The two men had been discussing her leather-clad feet—a pair of red and white Pumas. She’d forgotten the heels that day, despite how she loved looking fly. Once her eyes met with the trueness of his sensuality, she was floored, though she played it off well, smiling in his direction.
She had heard part of the conversation about her shoes and knew that being the salesman he was, he would approach. However, she didn’t think that that was his sole mission, knowing she looked good, and that thought alone made her swoon. Hardly any fine men approached her. She was used to the usual Pleistocene men and men from the Cretaceous era and your regular Pygmies. No one other than Maurice had ever taken much interest in little ole shy Amber, who was losing that shyness by the microsecond all of the sudden.
Amber soon realized the pretty thing did not need glasses, as he was on his way over to make her acquaintance. He cleared his voice. “We were just discussing your shoes. What are they?”
Though she was a nervous wreck around pretty men, no matter how confident she was in other parts of her life, she managed a sane response. “Oh, these are just Pumas. I got my black and white ones in Manhattan last summer while attending a conference.”
He moved in closer. “Sounds like you’re a busy young woman, and busy women need great shoes to keep them going.”
“That’s why I’m here. I tried the other stores, but they didn’t have anything that piqued my interest.” Taking one look at him definitely did the trick. She’d have been too glad to spend the night there in his arms, screw the shoes.
“You went to other stores before coming to mine? That was your first mistake.”
“And my second one?”
“Not hanging around on your first visit long enough to let me put my boxes down.”
That took her. No way in hell did she even imagine him seeing her all those months ago, let alone remember her. “You saw me a few months back?”
“Yes, ma’am, and what a sight you were. Too bad you didn’t stay around to give me a real thrill.”
“I was at my worst, yet you remembered me?”
“A beautiful woman is hard to forget. Besides, I saw how your earrings sparkled. What are they, crystals?”
“You know your stones, don’t you?”
His eyes barely scanned her frame. “That and other things. Where’d you get them from?”
“I made them.”
“No way! Wow, you really are a busy girl. They’re absolutely beautiful, like their creator.”
Amber ate that up, beaming at him. “Really, you’re too kind.”
He briefly scouted the room before moving in closer to her. “Kind? That would be someone other than me, but I’m serious—you’re absolutely beautiful, and so is your jewelry. Looks like what we sell in here, only better, more exotic. Do you sell any?”
The minute he moved in closer, she could smell his aftershave, and it smelled like erotic sex; with him, it mixed well. Too well. Suddenly she found herself fighting for self-control. “I own my own jewelry shop on Main. It’s not opened yet. I’m getting the financing together.” Amber knew only one thing: If she didn’t get the hell away from him, she’d spill the beans and let him know exactly how she felt about him. That had always been her problem with cute men, telling them too prematurely how sexy they were. At that, she walked across the room to a pair of red croc pumps, hoping he wouldn’t follow. Wrong, he followed as though she were Little Bo Peep. She didn’t lose any sheep but was about to gain a wolf.
He followed close behind her. “So, what’s the name of your shop?”
Surprised that a man was that infatuated with her, she met him face-to-face. “You’re really interested?”
“Sure. Come on, let me in on it.”
“I named it Exotica Jewels.”
“Good name; fits the owner to a T, if you don’t mind me saying.”
With the red pump still in her hand, she faced him and held it up, speechless. He beat her to the punch. “Would you like to see that in your size?”
“I, uh…” He left her speechless, breathless. She didn’t know what to do with all that nervous energy he suddenly gave her. He was beautiful; so different from Maurice because he actually had a personality. He was everything she craved. Then that infectious Amber Donohue smile crossed her lovely face. “Actually, if you don’t mind me saying”—her voice raised from pure excitement—“you are so damn handsome.” The words she feared she’d say one way or another if he didn’t leave her alone, which he wasn’t planning on. Well, it was said and done, and she hoped she could live with the consequences.
“Me, handsome? Thanks. I hardly hear that from a beautiful woman, let alone one with so much going for her; one that’s probably too busy making jewelry to buy shoes.”
“No, when a woman needs shoes, she really means it. I am busy enough.” The pump still dangled from her hand as she continued speaking. “The funny thing is, I’ve got a BS degree in education with a minor in marketing from Howard, yet I sit around making jewelry and writing erotica romance.” Oops! She didn’t want that out, either. Maybe she did. She figured the better the bait, the more you could reel in the really big mackerel—but this one was a tiger shark.
“Erotica romance? My goodness, what is it that you don’t do?”
“There’s plenty, trust me.”
“I’d love to read that erotica. What is your name, anyway? Sorry, but I forgot to ask; you know, too busy scoping the merchandise—yours. You’ll have to forgive me. I don’t get many beautiful women in here. The women who come in have high hopes that a pair of heels can turn a prizefighter into a queen. How wrong they are.”
“And you still don’t have that beauty in your store.” She extended her hand. “I’m Amber Donohue.”
She took his hand, and from his mere touch, she knew he was something to reckon with. His eyes were so dark and mysterious, lips so kissable, and that perfect caramel-brown complexion was so ready to be tasted. She was caught. Nothing else existed, not the store, other workers, nothing. Sex oozed from him, and all she wanted was to have some of it—his.
His voice brought her back to the real world. “I’m Jason DeMaras.” He was reluctant to let go of her hand simply to grab his business card from the front desk. He’d touched the hand of an erotic queen, and there was no going back. The pit he had fallen in was too deep to crawl from. He did manage not to stumble over his words. “Take my card and call me anytime. I’m always here. I’d love to exhibit your jewelry. I think you’d sell a ton; that’d be good for you and the store.”
“Would that be good for you? What I mean is, would you get a commission?”
“I know exactly what you mean, and, yes, it would definitely be good for me.”
His seductive smile knocked her into next month. She looked at his business card and fingered the raised printing, wishing it was his chest she was intricately caressing, but for the time being, the card had to do. No doubt he’d pushed her over the edge and landed her smack in the middle of the infamous pretty-man syndrome—a heck of a place to be. Then reality hit again, and her only thought, please don’t be another Maurice.
“Sure I can’t interest you in a pair of shoes? I have a pair that I’d love to slide you into. My man Kenneth Cole has a nice, supple pair of Italian leather pumps perfect for a working woman; the perfect shoe to enhance the beauty of a true treasure.”
Her mind was swimming, her body vibrating with the thought of what he could slide deeply into her. Unfortunately, Roma shoes were a little too expensive for her that day, although she knew how good she’d look in them.
“My intent was to buy shoes today, but the prices are a little steep for me in this mall. I should have known that. Maybe you can hold a pair for me, you know, select something nice and cute, then give me a week to come in for them.”
“Like I said, I have the perfect pair. All you have to do is say yes, and they’re yours, Ms. Donohue. Tell you what, I will put them aside. When you come in, try them on. If they’re not for you, I do have something else.”
Indeed you do, Mr. Fine as Hell Jason DeMaras.
“You must do me one favor. Bring in a few of your pieces, let me send them to headquarters.”
“You’d really do that for me?”
He scanned her once again. “From what I see, the designs are on jam. Oh yeah, so is your jewelry.”
That statement, coupled with his sensual smile, almost depleted her to a puddle in the middle of the floor. “That’s a promise. You’re some guy, Mr. DeMaras.”
“That I am. One more thing—I’d love to read your erotica. If it reads as good as you look. Damn!”
“Thank you, and I’d love for you to read some. It is a little on the hot side.”
“I’m counting on it.”
My God…too hot to trot. This man wants to read my secret thoughts, my explicit secret thoughts. Should I really let him? After all, he is a stranger. Give ‘em up, girl, and let pretty-boy Jason into your wildest dreams. The battle of the id and ego was on! “I have a few that are on jam. When I can get some pictures together with the jewelry, I’ll bring them in along with the stories. Will that do?”
“Depends on how long we’re talking.”
“When would you like them?”
Again, he moved so close to her that she could smell his chromosomes. He took her hand into his, feeling her smooth skin, toying with her delicate wrists. “As soon as possible.”
“You are a glutton for punishment.”
His voice lowered. “And I need to be spanked for being so bad.”
He released her hand and gave her a nice, juicy hug. She could feel every muscle in his body pressing against her. He felt so good and warm as her hands glided down to the small of his back, stayed there, smoothing his undershirt against his slightly moist skin. When they parted, she looked into his eyes. He’d been blushing. She was so glad to be the reason for a pretty man to blush.
After leaving, she felt giddy, like a schoolgirl with her first crush, and she stayed on cloud nine the entire day. She didn’t know how she managed to drive the Honda home without crashing it into a stone wall somewhere on Woodward Avenue.
From that day on, she ate, drank, and slept Jason. Jason this, Jason that. Her mind was obsessed with him. Since then, she replayed that day in her mind over and over again and couldn’t wait until she saw him again. Amber meant to get him any way she could, even if she had to spend every waking moment making jewelry to sell in his store. That was all right with her since that’s what she did for a living, anyway.
Amber stayed on that proverbial cloud even through work, the classes she was taking, everything. Each night before her eyes closed, she would reach over to the nightstand and pick up his card. She was mesmerized by the way his name looked, and she fingered the letters much the way a woman touches her man while they make love. That was what Amber wanted, to make love to him, seduce him, stroke him, taste him, make him think of no woman but her. She didn’t care about anything else. He was the one—Jason, Jason, Jason. She had to have him.
Later that evening…
Amber got to work on the contract for her new store on Main, right down the street from Somerset Mall. And while she was waiting for it to go through, she thought about how great it would be to work down the street from him, have lunch with him every day, and hopefully dinner every night. Amber was never one to press issues or to force herself on someone, but she could think of nothing but jewelry and Jason, the double Js. When something got in her head, she either had to take care of it or let it drive her insane. She chose the first. The store contract was looking good, but Jason was looking better. She put everything in motion and was ready to make a move.