19 -Out on a Date- (1/2)
Jordan is back from Roma before he sets up on San Francisco to start an internship with a financing company. He just saw me for the past 2 years and He follows me round the house asking me for a date.
It's annoying.
”Jordan, for the hundredth time, I have a date this evening.”
”No, you don't, you're just saying that to avoid me. You're always avoiding me.”
Yes… you'd think you'd take the hint.
”Jordan , I never thought it was a good idea to date my friends brother.”
”You're still looking here for job. You're not working tomorrow.”
”And I'll be going to Georgia to see my parent. We couldn't get much further apart if we tried. Besides, I do have a date this evening.”
”With my brother ? Kelvin”
”No.”
”Who then?”
”Jordan … oh.” My sigh is exasperated. He's not going to let this go. ”JAce Alicanté .” I cannot help the annoyance in my voice. But it does the trick. Jordan's mouth falls open, and he gapes at me, struck dumb. Humph – even his name renders people speechless.
”You have a date with Jace Alicanté,” he says finally, once he's over the shock. Disbelief is evident in his voice.
”Yes.”
”I see.” Jordan looks positively crestfallen, stunned even, and a very small part resents that he should find this a surprise. My inner goddess does too. I makes a very vulgar and unattractive gesture at him with my fingers.
After that, he ignores me, and at eight I am out of the door, Alicanté here I come.
Izzy has lent me three dresses and four pairs of shoes for tonight and for her acceptance interview tomorrow. That's only if she gets accepted, but I pray she get accepted, C'mon she has not been able to rest since we've got here,
.
I wish I could feel more enthused about clothes and make an extra effort, but clothes are just not my thing.
What is your thing, Sarah ? Jace's softly spoken question haunts me. Shaking my head and endeavoring to quell my nerves, I decide on the plum-colored sheath dress for this evening.
It's demure and vaguely business-like – after all, I am negotiating a contract.
I shower, shave my legs and underarms, wash my hair, and then spend a good half-hour drying it so that it falls in soft waves to my breasts and down my back.
I slip a comb in to keep one side off my face and apply mascara and some lip-gloss. I rarely wear make-up – it intimidates me. None of my literary heroines had to deal with make-up – maybe I'd know more about it if they had. I slip on the plum-colored stilettos that match the dress, and I'm ready by Seven-thirty.
”Well?” I ask Izzy.
She grins.
”Boy, you scrub up well, Sarah.” She nods with approval. ”You look hot.”
”Hot! I'm aiming for demure and business-like.”
”That too, but most of all, hot. The dress really suits you and your coloring. The way it clings.” She smirks.
”Izzy!” I scold.
”Just keeping it real, Sarah. The whole package – looks good. Keep the dress. You'll have him eating out of your hand.”
My mouth presses in a hard line. Oh, you so have that the wrong way round.
”Wish me luck.”
”You need luck for a date?” Her brow furrows, puzzled.
”Yes, Izzy.”
”Well then – good luck.” She hugs me, and I am out the front door.
I have to drive in my bare feet – in Izzy's Lexus, well she arrived before I left, saying that she was told to come back for the final interview tomorrow, what company does that? Fuck!,
I pull up outside the Place Jace order me to at Seven-fifty-eight precisely and hand my car keys to the valet for parking.
He looks fascinated at the Lexus , but I ignore him. Taking a deep breath and mentally girding my loins, I head into the hotel.
Jace is leaning casually against the bar, drinking a glass of red wine. He's dressed in his customary white linen shirt, black pens , black tie, and black jacket. His hair is as tousled as ever. I sigh. Of course he looks gorgeous. I stand for a few seconds in the entrance of the bar, gazing at him, admiring the view.
He is beyond beautiful. He glances, nervously I think, toward the entrance and stills when he sees me. Blinking a couple of times, he then smiles a slow, lazy, sexy smile that renders me speechless and all molten inside. Making a supreme effort not to eat my nails, I move forward aware that I, Sarah Megan Elaine of ChildishVille, am in high stilettos. He walks gracefully over to meet me.
”You look stunning,” he murmurs as he leans down to briefly kiss my cheek. ”A dress, Miss Elaine . I approve.” Taking my arm, he leads me to a secluded booth and signals for the waiter.
”What would you like to drink?”
My lips quirk up in a quick, sly smile as I sit and slide into the booth – well, at least he's asking me.
”I'll have what you're having, please.” See! I can play nice and behave myself. Amused, he orders another glass of Sancerre and slides in opposite me.
”They have an excellent wine cellar here,” he says, cocking his head to one side.
Putting his elbows on the table, he steeples his fingers in front of his beautiful mouth, his neon eyes alive with some unreadable emotion. And there it is… that familiar pull and charge from him, it connects somewhere deep inside me. I shift uncomfortably under his scrutiny, my heart palpitating. I must keep my cool.
”Are you nervous?” he asks softly.
”Yes.”
He leans forward.
”Me too,” he whispers
conspiratorially. My eyes shoot up to meet his. Him. Nervous. Never. I blink at him, and he smiles his adorable lopsided smile at me. The waiter arrives with my wine, a small dish of mixed nuts, and another of olives.
”So, how are we going to do this?” I ask. ”Run through my points one by one?”
”Impatient as ever, Miss Elaine.”
”Well, I could ask you what you thought of the weather today?”