JERMAINE, I’VE GOT to tell you—you have got one heck of an effect on your audiences. It’s kind of electrifying.” Candace looked over at him in the limousine’s backseat and wagged a finger at him. “And I don’t easily dish out praise, but . . .”
He stuck out his chest. “But I’m the man, huh?”
Easy, easy on the testosterone, there . . . She laughed. “Um, something like that.” She took a sip of ginger ale from the glass tumbler on the tray in front of her. From that evening they were first introduced, Jermaine had honored her wishes to not have alcoholic beverages in her company. It could seem like a small matter to some, but Candace had greatly respected him for faithfully adhering to that stipulation.
“So where are we headed?” she asked. “I noticed the last-minute changes to the itinerary—you’ve got the next two days somewhat blocked off. Why the change?”
Jermaine leaned back in his seat. “I just needed some time off. The body can wear down, y’know? I haven’t had a chance to really relax all week, and there’s this great little resort up in Scottsdale that’s perfect for a little R&R.”
“Oh. Oh, well . . . that sounds nice, I guess.”
“You don’t mind, do you? I mean, I kind of booked this resort for the both of us. It’s been a busy week for you as well.”
“Yes, it’s definitely been busy. But I’m on assignment here. I knew these two weeks were going to be hectic when I agreed to do this.”
“Is that all I am?” He glanced over at her, the expression on his face a mixture of surprise and mischief. “An assignment?”
Candace took another sip of ginger ale, giving her a few extra seconds to stall. Without a doubt, she would have to answer this question carefully. “No, Jermaine, of course not. I mean, at first . . . I, well . . . I didn’t know you. You were just another public figure to me, just another celebrity interview. And you guys . . . I mean, uh, some celebrities can be real pricks, you know? Completely insensitive and stuck on thinking the world revolves around them. Now, I try to give everyone the benefit of the doubt, but you just never know sometimes.”
Jermaine chuckled and shook his head.
“What? What’s so funny?”
“Oh, nothing. You just didn’t answer the question, is all. Danced all around it, but didn’t answer it.”
“Well, I didn’t mean to . . .”
“Then don’t.” He leaned forward and a little closer to her. “So tell me, Candi. Am I . . . just another assignment . . . to you?”
Candace felt her heart beating a little faster. Closer to him now than she’d been all night, she was overtaken by his scent—the tantalizing combination of his designer cologne, the pomade he rubbed on his close-cropped hair, the rich smell of his imported, Italian suit—it was all sensually overwhelming. And exciting.
“No, Jermaine . . .” Her voice was barely audible now, and she could feel the blood pounding in her head. “No, of course you’re not just an assignment to me.”
With his finger, he tilted her chin up so that she was looking directly into his eyes. Candace’s senses were so on fire that she imagined she would explode any second now. Every sound, every smell, every taste . . . was incredibly and magnificently heightened.
“That night on the beach changed all that, didn’t it?” he asked. “You and me, walking together hand in hand. Something happened, right? I know I wasn’t the only one who felt something.”
Candace opened her mouth to say something, but the words stuck in her throat. As Jermaine gazed earnestly into her eyes, with his finger he slowly started to stroke the soft spot just under the bottom of her chin. The effect was mesmerizing, and Candace wished she could bottle up that moment and preserve it for the rest of her life. Every woman, she thought to herself, ought to have a “princess” moment like this at least once in her lifetime.
“You felt it, didn’t you, Candi?” Still stroking her chin.
She swallowed and after a minute or so, she finally felt strong enough to respond. “Y-yes. Yes, Jermaine, I did feel something.”
THE LAVISH SUITE at the Phoenician Resort was already prepared for Candace and Jermaine, and as they walked through the double doors she immediately took note of the partially dimmed lights and the soft, mellow jazz playing somewhere in the room.
“I know this song . . . Boney James playing ‘SweetThing’ . . .”
Jermaine nodded as he set his small bag down on a plush sofa chair. “Yeah. A little bird told me you liked jammin’ to his music. The cat’s alright on the sax, I guess. But when we get back to L.A., I’m gonna have to hip you to some Duke Ellington. Take you back to the roots of jazz.”
Playfully, she rolled her eyes. “Whatever, Jermaine.” Walking to the window, she proceeded to look out over the hilly, desert landscape. Her mind went back in time to her vacation of sorts, years ago when she did that interview here for the Dallas Morning News. She had such fond memories of this city, partially because of Kevin Johnson, partially because of . . . because of . . .
Go ahead and admit it, girl. You’re starting to like Jermaine, aren’t you?
But what about her story? And for God’s sake, what about Tasha? Now wouldn’t that just go over well—to go back to Houston only to have her best friend find out that she and Jermaine were now a hot item. Tasha would definitely throw a fit the size of Texas. Still, yesterday at the beach . . . and then just a few minutes ago in the limousine, Candace had discovered that she had . . . well, she had feelings for this guy. Feelings that probably weren’t going away any time soon.
“Arizona is really beautiful, isn’t it?” Jermaine asked as he slowly walked up behind Candace. “If you’d like, we can go up to the Grand Canyon later. Take one of those helicopter tours or something.”
“Yes. Yes, that’d be nice.” She turned around and found herself, once again, extremely close to Jermaine.
Oh, God . . . oh God . . . oh . . .
Her heart started furiously beating faster. And her now-shallow breaths began to come in short little spurts.
Seeming to sense her nervousness, Jermaine once again reached out and began to stroke the spot just under her chin. “Candi, just . . . just relax, okay?” His golden voice was smooth and reassuring. “I’m not going to do anything you don’t want me to.”
“Aren’t you the perfect gentleman.”
He slowly shook his head. “No, I’m not perfect. Far from it, in fact. But all I know is that right here, right now . . . I just want to be with you.” He slowly dropped his hand from her chin, and with his other arm, he now circled her waist.
“Candi, you are such a beautiful woman. And y’know something else? You’re also one of the most intelligent and well-spoken sistahs I’ve ever met.”
“I’ll take that as sort of a compliment because I’ve . . . uh, heard that you’ve met a lot of women, Jermaine.”
He looked disappointed. “Don’t believe everything you hear. I mean sure, because of my hectic schedule I meet a few ladies here and there, but nobody has had quite the effect that you’ve had on me.”
“What kind of effect is that?”
“Hmm . . . now let me see. Well first off, you have a way of looking past the front I normally put up for people. It’s like you can really see into me. And while that scared me at first, now I kind of like it. Plus, you’re successful, independent, driven, talented . . . shall I go on?”
“Yes . . .” she breathed, mercifully relieving some of her built-up inner tension. But her heart was still beating at a rapid rate. Jermaine’s wonderful, manly scent and physique were creating blissful havoc in her mind. “Please do go on.”
He pulled her even closer to his broad chest, and now she could feel the fluttering of his heart, which was beating just as fast as hers.
“And you are definitely, absolutely the finest sistah writing books that I’ve ever met.” He tilted his face to hers, now certainly about to kiss her.
“I . . . I really don’t write books . . . I write features . . .” she began saying.
“Whatever.” His ensuing kiss started off with just the right amount of tenderness, escalating with each fleeting second into such a passionate embrace that Candace thought her poor little heart was going to pass out.
After a while, Jermaine slowly pulled back, only to then bend down and pick her up. With her secured daintily in his arms, he headed for the bedroom.
“Jermaine . . . Jermaine, wait . . .” she softly whispered. Oh, but this felt so right and so good! And she knew that if she let this continue, it would be a wonderful night that she’d never forget. But . . . was she ready for this? And what about Tasha?
Oh, to heck with that crazy girl . . .
So if not Tasha, then what about her article? Whether she liked it or not, she was first and foremost a professional who had always adhered to the unwritten literary code of ethics. Sleeping with Jermaine tonight might indeed feel good but it would compromise everything she had learned from Dr. West back at Rice. And it would call into question everything she believed in as a writer on a quest to win a Pulitzer someday. But she had already sacrificed so much to get to this point. What was one harmless little night of sensual indulgence going to hurt?
By this point, Jermaine had undone nearly all the buttons on the back of her knit blouse and was slowly caressing her bare shoulders with his hands and mouth, working his way down her arms.
“Jermaine, wait . . .”
He groaned and with a near-Herculean effort, pulled away from her shoulders. “Candi, what’s wrong? Tell me what I’m doing wrong.”
“Oh, Jermaine, you’re doing nothing wrong. It’s . . . it’s me . . . I’m not ready for th— I mean, I just can’t do this.”
He groaned again.
“It’s . . . it’s just not right,” she continued. “Not only is there a serious conflict of interest going on here, but . . . well, I’m still kind of an old-fashioned girl.”
With a show of great reluctance, he pulled farther away from her, to where he was now lying next to her on the bed. “But don’t you feel this? I mean, doesn’t this whole evening, this whole weekend, just feel right for you and me?”
“I . . . I don’t know.” Girl, you are crazy! You got a fine man who’s ready to worship your body all night long and you tell him you don’t know? “Jermaine, listen, you’re a really great guy, but . . .”
He immediately held up his hands. “Un-unhh. Not the ‘you’re a great guy, but’ run-around.”
“Jermaine, I didn’t mean it like that. Really. But right now, with this interview and everything, I just don’t think this will work.”
“Aren’t you about through with the interview already? I mean, you’ve been following me around all week—I’m sure you’ve got plenty of material to work with by now.” He leaned forward to kiss her once more, but she pulled away. More firmly this time. It was one of the hardest things she had done, because her body was physically screaming for his touch.
“Jermaine, no. Please . . . please . . .” After an awkward few seconds, she asked, “um . . . is there another room I can go to? I saw that you only had one room booked, and . . .”
“Well that was because—”
“I know, I know. I’m sorry, Jermaine.” She wrapped her arms around herself, suddenly feeling a chill. Undoubtedly because her blouse was still open at the back.
“You don’t have to go anywhere, Candi. You can stay in this room. I’ll leave.” He leaned in for a final kiss, but stopped halfway, letting out a dejected sigh as he did so. Then he got up from the bed and left the room.
All alone now, Candace thought it so strange that even though he was the one who had walked out the door, for some inexplicable reason, she felt like she was the one leaving something behind.