The Perfect Affair (4 page)

F
or the rest of the afternoon, Jacqueline walked on air. At five o’clock she returned to her room, ordered room service, and transcribed some of the tapes she’d recorded. At six o’clock someone knocked on her door.

She peered through the peephole to see a hotel employee standing next to a bellman’s cart. On it were a couple garment bags and several boxes. She opened the door.

“I didn’t send anything to be cleaned. You have the wrong room.”

“Ms. Tate?”

“Yes?” Jacqueline replied with a scowl.

“These are for you, compliments of Dr. Atwater.” Jacqueline was speechless. She stepped back so that the employee could pull the cart into the room. “Here, let me get you a tip.”

“Already taken care of, ma’am,” the employee said with a slight bow. “Enjoy your evening.”

Jacqueline watched the employee leave, then turned toward the cart before her. She gingerly touched the plastic covering, almost afraid to lift it and see what was inside. Below were shoe boxes. She reached for one, opened it up, and saw one of the prettiest pairs of shoes she’d ever seen. The sandals were covered in iridescent crystals, with straps that came up around the ankle. Always a sucker for a great high heel, she walked to a chair, kicked off her house shoes and slid on the sandal.

Perfect fit.
How did he know?

Curiosity effectively piqued, she walked back over to the rack and lifted the first bag. A gasp escaped her mouth before she could stop it. Before her was a stunning gown in burgundy satin, a strapless creation made to fit like a glove. The second bag held a gown made of emerald-colored raw silk. The halter neck and trim waistline gave way to a ruffled skirt with an uneven hem that created a modest train. Jacqueline held her breath as she unzipped the final bag. She pressed her hands to her cheeks in wonder. She reached out, her hand brushing against the stark white fabric that had been sprinkled with Swarovski crystals in a haphazard way. Another body hugger, the dress’s straps were made of crystal and the neckline was designed in such a way as to accent one’s cleavage. Blinking back tears as she took away the bag and removed the dress from the hanger, Jacqueline had no doubt which dress she would wear. If only it fit.

It did. Perfectly. As if measurements had been taken and patterns drawn. Without even pulling the sandals back out, she knew they would pair just right with the white dress, and after checking the remaining five boxes she realized she was right. She was overwhelmed with Randall’s kindness. He had changed her world in a matter of minutes, and her head spun.

“What does all this mean?” she asked the empty room.

“I want to believe it. But I’m so afraid of getting my heart broken again.”

She looked at the clock, and with only forty-five minutes until the time she was supposed to meet Randall in the lobby, she headed for the shower.

 

“Today wasn’t bad. I’m not as tired as I thought I’d be.”

Randall sat in the lobby listening to his friend James spout on about the day’s activities. “I love what I do,” James finished. “But sometimes I agree with Debbie. I need to slow the pace.”

“I hear you, man. When I established the Atwater Achievement Module five years ago, I planned on being totally hands-on. But for the past several months, I’ve basically had to leave it in the hands of the mentors.”

“How is your tutor program going?”

“Excellent, really. Right now we have twenty-five students from surrounding universities who are helping with science and math. Because of its integral part in our modern world, we’re getting ready to add computer technology as well.When I last attended the monthly roundup three months ago, I was overjoyed. The kids are smart, excited, and determined to succeed. That’s all I can hope for.”

James watched as Randall’s face took on a somber appearance. “Still feeling guilty, huh?”

“I know I shouldn’t but yes, I do.”

“You tried to save him, man; did more for him than the father he never knew. You tried to keep him out of the streets. At the end of the day, it was his choice and his alone that brought about deadly consequences.”

Both were quiet a moment, remembering the horror five years ago when Randall learned that his nephew had been gunned down. “If anything,” Randall said, finally breaking the silence, “Joshua’s death reminded me of the lifestyle I barely escaped, one all too familiar among African-American males. That man wasn’t a news story or a statistic in the newspaper that I read. He was alive and breathing. He was my nephew; someone I knew, someone I loved. If I can save just one kid from meeting the same fate as he did . . .”

“I’m sure you already have,” James softly replied. “You’re doing good things, bro. Makes me want to step up my game as well.”

“You’re being a good stepfather to Debbie’s son. We all do what we can where we are.”

“Damn!”

Randall’s eyes traveled to where James was now staring. “Is that the same woman who interviewed me this afternoon ?”

“Yes, that’s Jacqueline Tate.”

James looked at him. “I thought she was attractive then but . . .” The sentence died as he stared at her.

“Now you think she’s stunning.”

“Exactly.”

“I think you’re right.”

“Wonder where she’s going?”

“You haven’t checked your packet? The opera is tonight.”

Both men watched—as did everyone in the lobby—as Jacqueline came toward them.

“Good evening, gentlemen,” she said as Randall and James stood to acknowledge her presence.

“Good evening, Jacqueline,” James said, reaching out for a handshake and smiling broadly when it was accepted.

“You look incredible,” Randall said, his hand stuck out as well.

And when she pushed it away and went in for a heartfelt hug that melded her body to his . . . he didn’t complain.

J
acqueline sat next to Randall, admiring the beauty of the Walt Disney Concert Hall. “This place is amazing,” she whispered, reverently looking around the brilliantly constructed room. “Beautiful is too small a word to describe it.”

“It pales in comparison to you.”

Randall squeezed her hand, and Jacqueline felt butterflies. He looked so handsome in his black tuxedo with stark white shirt. All eyes had been on them as they’d walked from the lobby into the auditorium, the crystals on her white dress catching the light and bathing them in a subtle glow. From the moment the dresses had arrived at her room, she’d felt like Cinderella on her way to the ball. Now here she sat, with her prince, listening to the LA Philharmonic and LA Opera perform Mozart’s
Così fan tutte
. From the time she’d slipped on the dress to find that it fit perfectly, she’d stopped trying to talk herself out of her growing feelings for Randall. She knew it was foolish, something once started would probably not last, but she couldn’t help it. He was wonderful, thoughtful, perfect. He paid attention to detail. How else could he have known her dress and shoe sizes? He was intelligent and engaging but still down-to-earth and humble. And the most amazing part? He was obviously interested in her! Why else would he invite her to share this evening, when any number of colleagues, especially the female ones, would have been more than delighted to be his guest?

Is it my imagination or did Randall just brush his leg against mine?
So far, aside from adoring looks and desire-filled eyes, he’d been the perfect gentleman. Now that Jacqueline was allowing truthful thought to reign, she’d admit that images of Randall not being so gentlemanly had flitted through her mind. Thoughts of how it would feel to be hugged, kissed, loved by this man. Thoughts of how his body, hard and naked, would feel against hers. Thoughts of how much she wanted to find out the answers to the questions now plagued her, along with a desire so strong it ached.

Yes, he’d definitely moved his leg. She pressed hers back against it. He looked over, his eyes questioning, searching. She hoped the desire in her eyes matched what she now saw. They both looked to the stage, but the air around them had shifted. It had become intense, expectant. What would come next? After the orchestra performed their encore, would Randall and Jacqueline perform one of their own?

After two hours of exceptional music, the performance ended. The patrons filed out to town cars, luxury vehicles, and limousines. Jacqueline got into the stretch limousine that awaited their arrival and scooted over so that Randall could enter as well. No sooner had he got in the car than he turned to her.

“Jacqueline . . .” His eyes were fastened on her lips.

“Yes . . .” Her lips were parted slightly, wet from a nervous lick. Her eyes were bright yet hooded, anticipating what was to come.

“I’m very attracted to you,” he said.

“Me too.”

He ran a tentative finger over her lips. “You’re so beautiful.”

Jacqueline said nothing, just kept peering into his eyes.

“I want to kiss you.”

“Then do. Please.” She closed her eyes, waited for the moment, felt his breath against her chin as he lowered his head. Their lips touched and a familiar jolt—strong, electric—pierced her body. His kiss was soft at first, but quickly deepened and became more intense. She opened her mouth. His tongue slid home, as if it had been there before, as if her mouth was the only place it should be. She turned to him, her breasts crushed against his hard chest. One of his arms wrapped around her neck, the other ran lazily up her arm, leaving a trail of goose bumps in its wake. Their breath mingled along with their desire, their passion grew with each second that passed. Time stood still, and they had no awareness of the car carrying them through the streets of downtown LA. All Jacqueline was aware of was this moment, this man, the feel of his essence around her. In this instant she believed that she’d very much enjoy feeling it for the rest of her life.

“Um, excuse me,” the driver said, after clearing his throat.

“We’re here.”

As they stood in front of Jacqueline’s hotel room door, holding hands, looking into each other’s eyes, Randall brushed an errant strand of hair behind her ear. “Thank you for a wonderful evening.”

“It’s me who should be thanking you.” Jacqueline’s eyes fell from his eyes to his lips. “This has been one of the most amazing evenings of my life.”

“Yes, the opera was exceptional.”

“Indeed. But I wasn’t talking about the performance.” Silence fell, and Jacqueline could hear her own heartbeat. She knew she shouldn’t. Good girls never gave it up on the first night. But she was grown, the time between lovers had been too long, and the desire for this man was overwhelmingly strong. If he asked, pronouncing the word “no” would probably be too hard.

“Tomorrow’s another early morning,” Randall said into a silence where their mutual desire was palpable. “I should probably say good night.”

“That’s probably a good idea.”

Perhaps it was. But neither moved.

Randall leaned forward and pressed a tender kiss against Jacqueline’s temple. “Good night, my princess.”

Jacqueline was so full of emotion she could barely breathe. Was she dreaming? She had to be. Wonderful moments like these didn’t happen to her. But then she felt his lips press ever so gently against her lips.

“Sleep well,” he whispered against them. “May I have your card?”

It took a couple of seconds for Jacqueline to understand his question. Her head was in a yearning-induced fog. “Oh, card. Right.” She fumbled in her small clutch and pulled out the hotel key.

He pulled it from her grasp and opened the door. “There you are. Safely delivered back to your room.” He leaned forward for one last kiss. “Thanks again, Jacqueline.” He held out the card. “Good night.”

Jacqueline looked at the card, and then at him. “Keep it,” she said in a brazen move. “It just might come in handy.”

Within minutes she was in her room, out of the dress, and talking with her best friend, Kris.

“I can’t believe the night I just had,” she said dreamily. “I’ll spill all the juicy details later, but I just came back from a date with an award-winning scientist, the same man with whom I had dinner last night.”

“Tell me more.”

“His name is Randall Atwater—intelligent, handsome and a perfect gentleman—everything I could wish for in a man. But this is an important assignment. I don’t have time to get sidetracked, Kris,” she finished. “Please say that you agree.”

“Agree that you shouldn’t enjoy yourself? No can do.”

“That I don’t have time to be falling in love!”

“Jack, you just met the man.”

Hearing her nickname, one used solely by this best friend, Jacqueline calmed down. A little. “I’ve been telling myself the same thing all day, have given myself every sound reason in the book to keep this professional. But there’s something between us, Kris. Randall feels it too. At first I thought it was just my imagination, but after tonight? I can no longer deny it. This magic I’m feeling is real.”

A pause and then Kris asked her, “You do know magic is
not
real, right? They don’t really saw the girl in two. And the rabbit was in the hat all along.”

Jacqueline sighed.

“I’m not trying to burst your bubble.Well, I am, but only if it’s as tenuous as one that’s made from the soapy solution for kids. You’re my best friend, Jacqueline. I want your happiness as much as you want it. But I’m the one who’s nursed you through your last few heartbreaks, been there to dry the tears and help pick up the pieces. That last fool devastated you, had you feeling you were losing your mind. You had me worried too. That’s why I’m trying to be your voice of reason, and coming down on the side of caution. If he’s the one, he’ll still be the one a week from now. Just take your time, okay?”

Jacqueline ended their conversation without making any promises. Though it was late and she’d gotten up early, she still tossed and turned in search of sleep. She fluffed her pillow, flopped on her back, and stared at the ceiling. Kris’s opinion mattered. Everything her bestie said made sense. Still, she’d given Randall her hotel key. If he decided to use it, Jacqueline knew she would not turn him away.

 

He was big, a monster; smelling of beer and disappointment. His pot belly, the texture of raw chicken skin covered in sweat, jiggled when he walked. Like now, as he came toward her, a mere shadow in a room lit by a single streetlight at the end of the block.

She cowered on the bed, against the wall, a thin sheet covering knees pulled up to a quivering chin.

Two words pushed through her fear and revulsion. “Please. No.”

Her protector lay just down the hall, cradling gin and tucked under a blanket of feigned ignorance. Lying on a pillow of complicity and shame.

The monster towered over her, so close now that she felt his labored breathing.

A nightmare, this time with eyes wide open, happening again.