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I begin to protest, but my thoughts are jarred when I spot D'Andre and Aliza sitting a few tables over. Aliza is being a normal human being by engaging with the other people seated with them. But D'Andre’s creepy ass is doing the opposite. I don’t know how long he’s been watching me, but the moment I glance over, our eyes meet, and I’m instantly vexed. Jackson leans forward, trying to regain my attention. When I don’t respond to him, he follows my gaze, placing his arm around my shoulder and pulling me close. I glance at his hand then back at him, just in time to catch him stealing the glass from the person beside him and tilting the brim to D'Andre. Almost as if he’s saying, I see you watching.
I follow his hand, not paying attention to anything else as he brings the flute to his mouth. In this moment, I get a hard look at my suitor and must admit that his features are more than admirable. His lips in particular, and the way he licks them. This man irks my nerves beyond measure, but I can’t help but notice him.
He turns, catching me staring at his seemingly soft, pink lips and smile. Jackson is about to say something but is interrupted by the sound of the intercom blaring throughout the room. Thankful for the distraction, I force my attention towards the stage. Our host, Maxwell Grant, takes the mic into his hand.
Maxwell clears his throat. “Good evening, everyone. Welcome, and thank you all for joining us. When my wife and I started this program, we had no idea it would have turned into what it’s become after only three short years. Each year is better than the last, and we proudly get to play a part in connecting the new faces of today’s economy with the proper resources and financial channels to move their innovations forward. Many of you have participated in one of our events in the past, but there’s a lot of fresh and eager folks here this year. You’ll notice with each group gathering, we’ve attempted to mix up the seating arrangements, allowing for maximum networking opportunities. While this is a week filled with business connections, we encourage you to unwind and enjoy your time on this highly expensive charter.”
He chuckles, and we do the same.
“But seriously, you make the best connections when you’re just being you. So, ladies and gentlemen, enjoy tonight’s meal, and please consider hanging around for our dessert mixer.” Maxwell finishes his speech and graciously accepts our applause and gratitude.
As if on cue, the doors from the kitchen swing open, and wait staff come pouring out into the aisles, carefully placing dishes in front of everyone along the way. When my plate arrives, I smile, impressed that they managed to remember my allergic restrictions. While my dinner mates have delicious-looking stuffed crab on their saucers, I have an equally attractive salmon dish resting on mine.
Everything appears divine and smells even better. Throughout the dining hall, utensils hitting ceramic surfaces vibrates through the air, our voices now replaced by the humming of everyone consuming their food.
It doesn’t take long for plates to become empty and the expressions of fullness and satisfaction to rumble through the room. The wait staff returns to clear the tables, and people disburse, mingling with one another. I take in my surroundings, enjoying the decor and atmosphere. It’s exquisitely adorned with golden table embellishments and expensive drapery. The carpeting appears to be new, and the center chandelier is to die for.
So consumed with the beauty of the banquet space, I didn’t realize until now that Jackson is nowhere in sight, and for the first time tonight I’m left alone. This pleases me, but in the same token, I have to admit I’m just a bit disappointed. I’ve wanted nothing more than to be rid of him since the first day here, but like a tick, I just can’t seem to shake him. He seems nice enough, with stepping in for me with D'Andre. Though I hadn’t asked him to insert himself, the look on D'Andre’s mug whenever he sees us together makes me somewhat grateful.
A few people pass by, smiling on their way out and breaking my train of thought. Suddenly, there’s a nip in the air, and I wrap my arms around myself, wishing I had brought a shawl with me. A pair of hands covers mine, squeezing gently as the stiffness of a body presses against my back. A wave of Guilty by Gucci men’s cologne fills my senses.
I pull away, instantly missing the warmth that was there a second ago. I didn’t even turn around; I didn’t have to. I already know who it is. There’s only one person on this ship bold enough to continually invade my space. The interesting thing is, for some weird and unexpected reason, I don’t think I mind it as much right now. Of course, I don’t want his ass to know that, so I quickly fix my face into a glare of annoyance when he stands beside me. Neither of us say anything, but he gazes from me to the crowd and back. I try hard not to glance his way, shifting uncomfortably and searching for things to focus on.
This must please him, because though I want to avoid looking at him, I can see that cocky smile spreading over his face. I straighten my shoulders and let out a deep breath. He laughs, and I roll my eyes. Ugh, this guy!
A waiter walks past carrying a tray of desserts, and I reach for one but miss him. Either he’s too fast, or my arms are too short. Whichever it is, I don’t make it. But Jackson does. With his long, toned arms stretched out, he grabs a treat and faces me. Desperately craving the sweet substances, I’m grateful to him and go to take it. Just when I think he’s going to hand it to me, he instead pops the sugary goodness into his mouth, leaving not even a crumb behind. Surprised, I stare at him in disbelief. By no means am I angry, I just wasn’t expecting that.
“Oh, wait. You wanted that?” He laughs, wiping icing from the corner of his lip.
I want to ignore him but I can’t help but revel in the hilarity of the moment. My smile widens, and I let out a roar of laughter.
“Gorgeous,” he murmurs, his gaze landing on my grin.
“Thanks.” I shy away, touching the nape of my neck as that unexpected feeling of interest returns.
The melody of Daniel Caesar’s Best Part pours through the speakers, and folks are partnering up on the dance floor. I watch nervously, hoping that he doesn’t ask me to join him, yet wanting to dance all at the same time. This is one of my favorite songs, but with the weight of Daniel’s lyrics and Jackson’s never-ending pursuit, I fear the two may be a bad combination.
“We should dance,” he requests.
I look around the room. “No, I’m—”
Before I can deny his offer, Jackson takes me by the hand, swirling me out onto the floor. Both shocked and impressed, I squeal softly as I collide into him. Panting with my chest heaving, I glance up. His eyes follow his hand to my wrist while he guides me into a dancing position. The other snakes around my back, down to the curve of my ass, and we sway. Locked in a trance, I allow him to lead. Our bodies are so close I can feel our temperatures rising.
“So, what’s the deal with that D'Andre guy?”
His question surprises me, quickly snapping me back to reality.
I continue to gaze at him, unsure of how to answer. Partly because I don’t care to think about D'Andre let alone talk about him. The other reason is, while I hadn’t wanted to get this close to this guy, I can’t help but admire him and accept that I’m more attracted to him than I previously cared to admit. His warm, tanned skin, light-brown eyes, and closely trimmed beard looks near perfect under the fluorescent lighting. I rub my palms down the length of his arms, and he pulls me close, and my body tingles at his touch. When my gaze reaches those pink lips of his and he licks them, my panties moisten.
“Hey, are you all right?” He pulls away slightly, searching my face for a sign that I’m still here in the moment with him.
“Yeah… Sorry.” I blink.
“Am I that much of a shitty dancer?” he jokes.
“No! You’re a great dancer,” I say with a chuckle, acknowledging his banter.
“Well, I know I am.”
