Love Undefeated (Unexpected #5) (3 page)

My cheeks started feeling like heated butter; he was putting on the charm and boy, did I feel it this time.

Now I knew why Tanya had set me up with him. He was not only handsome, he was also charming – once I started actually paying attention to him.

Taking a sip from my champagne glass, I decided that today was the day I would open myself up to possibilities. Had I totally missed out on great guys like him because I was hung up on the one guy who only wanted me on a superficial level? Had I closed myself off to the opportunity of experiencing new things, because as much as I had been denying it, I wasn’t completely over him?

I’m twenty-four years old, with a high-paying job and on my way to a great career. Why would I restrict myself to what could be if I kept dwelling on what had been?

Settling myself on the cream upholstered chair, for the first time in a long time, I felt lighter than I ever had. I’d been telling Xavier I’d moved on when in fact I really hadn’t.

Well, tonight I truly was. Moving on.

“What kind of movies do you direct?” I flashed on what I could feel on my face as a beaming smile.

Tanya and Sedona often told me that I was a beautiful woman. There’s no clear distinction as to what depicts beauty.

In my heart, I knew I wasn’t horrific-looking, but when you’re best friends with two gorgeous women, it was hard not to wonder if I was in fact, beautiful. Sedona with her unique violet eyes and Tanya with her flaming red hair and green eyes defined beauty inside and out. I had no problems with self-esteem, but being in a long-term relationship with my ex, Jerome, a med student who had prescribed me an overdose of cheating and a bad case of chlamydia, could take a toll on a girl especially after I found out that he had cheated on me over and over again.

“Science fiction.” His brown eyes lit up, his face brightening as he continued, “There’s a different element in directing what’s real and what could be real. It’s amazing. Wonderful. I love the action, the drama, the angst, the costumes. I get transfixed with the set designs and the artistry. I love everything about it.”

Edging closer to the table, I situated my right arm on top of it so I could rest my chin on my hand. “Wow…you sound so passionate about what you do.”

“I am.” With a flicker of interest and amusement, he said, “I’m also passionate about beautiful women, like you.”

Just then, a trio of guys, dressed up in fancy jackets, each holding a musical instrument of his own, approached our table.

“No thank you.” It was downright rude, but I had a clear idea on who sent them.

Without acknowledging my refusal, the stocky, Hispanic-looking tanned guy holding a harmonica pressed a bunch of buttons on the instrument and The Beatles’ song started filling the room.

My date, Trevor, looked dumbfounded. I mean, what could he really say? He couldn’t just command them to go away especially since now that the shortest of the bunch playing the bongo-looking thing had his eyes closed, feeling the rhythm and flow of the song as their voices meshed in rendering the song
Love Me Do
.

When the ukelele-tapping man,
wait, was that really a ukelele
, started belting out, “You know I love you…I’ll always be true…” I was just about ready to dump the whole glass pitcher of water on
his
approaching form.

This was a five-star restaurant. Serenades like these did not just happen on a regular basis. Quiet and hushed whispers were the norm. The other customers were now eyeing our small table with rapt interest. Some had even stopped eating to gawk at us.

He knew this would happen.

Tonight someone would be eating his own balls for dinner.

As soon as they finished the ethnic yet amusing, (if I wasn’t in this predicament, I would probably find it funny), rendition of The Beatles’
Love Me Do
, I raised a flag of surrender to the three singing sensations.

“Please no more…” Wiping the combination of hot fury and cold rage from my hands with the napkin, I pleaded, “We really don’t want to disturb the other customers who want a quiet and peaceful evening.”

The ukelele-wielding man stated, “But we’re paid for ten songs.”

I nodded my head in defeat. “I know. But please consider yourself absolved of your contract.”

The bongo guy in a black pleather jacket contradicted, “No absuelto. No. We were paid to sing all ten songs.”

Poor Trevor actually had the decency to say, “You guys have great voices, but we don’t wanna inconvenience the other people here.”

Just as the harmonica master wearing the cowboy hat pressed his lips to the instrument, signaling that they were about to launch into a second medley, I stood up.

“Give me a minute.” Gritting my teeth, I breathed in deep. “I’m going to talk to someone, so please hold off launching into another performance.”

Excusing myself from Trevor, I turned my back to the musicians, and with enough determination to ignite another episode of global warming, my heels dug into the floor. Just as I was about to take another step, long muscular arms wrapped around my waist.

“Hello, sweetie. Didn’t I tell you to save the foreplay for later?” His rough voice was deceptively calm, sounding like I was a wayward child who had disobeyed him, and when his green eyes landed on mine, I shivered at the utter look of primal possessiveness.

His hair always held that mussed, roughed-up, never-combed look. Like he’d gotten out of bed, taken a shower, and while air drying, it created a sexified, carefree rumple of dark blonde waves.

I raised my right hand with the thorough intention of smacking his head. Maybe this time the screws would be put back into place and he’d finally stop harassing me.

Before my hand could make contact, he tugged on my arm and forcefully placed it around his neck. Without giving me room for a denial or a countermove, his lips landed on mine roughly; tasting, devouring, unyielding.

The whoosh of his sensual assault fogged up my champagne-clouded brain. It was always like this with him. He rendered my mind passive and my body pliant.

“It’s nice to meet you, Trevor Dawes. I’ve heard a lot of good things about you.” It was Xavier’s business voice. Detached, impersonal.

Rubbing his hand against my exposed back, I tried to find the resolve to fight him, especially after he invited the three musicians to ruin my evening. Pinching the back of his neck with my fingers, he didn’t give any indication that I was hurting him as he continued to talk to my date who for sure would not be calling me anytime in the near future.

Awkward was a mild way of describing this situation.

Epic disaster. Catastrophe. Apocalyptic was more like it.

“I had no idea she was your girl, man,” Trevor’s apology droned out the seething anger ringing in my ears. “If I did we wouldn’t be in this situation.”

“No harm, no foul,” Xavier intoned. I inhaled the woody, tropical-based scent of his favorite soap that clung to his skin when he moved to shake Trevor’s hand. My face was plastered across his broad chest, my make-up would definitely be clinging to his dress shirt and suit.

“Señor, do you want us to play the next song?” Sir Harmonica questioned, removing his hat and tipping it towards his boss. By boss, meaning Xavier.

Stomping my wedge-strapped feet on the reflective floors, I finally managed to speak my piece in a hissed whisper, “I swear, Xavier, you let these guys play another song and I will burn all your Peter Pan boxers and send you the ashes.”

With a shake of Xavier’s dark blonde hair and a wave of his right hand, the triple medley singers looked slightly disappointed that they couldn’t continue their performance.

Bongo Guy struck the drumhead with his palm and fingers, emitting two short distinct but loud noises before leaving. Mr. Harmonica and Ukelele looked extremely gratuitous and managed to even shake my intended date’s hand before disappearing out of sight. They most likely got paid thrice than what they would have made for a regular night’s performance just by being here to serenade me.

Sliding two fingers under my chin, he tipped my face up, leaving me with no choice but to look in his eyes, the dark green of his irises so mesmerizing, compelling. I could always gauge his moods by the color of his eyes more than his facial expressions. Most of the time they were lighter in shade since he had that relaxed surfer guy look down to a science. There were times, so rare and few and far in between, when he showed the world his darker, vulnerable side, often reserved for me.

“Nales, let’s go home.” The barely there crack in his voice almost made me weak in my knees and the floundering resolve I was clinging to oh-so-tightly was about to break.

“I can’t,” I replied. “I just can’t.”

“How long will it take?” His mouth moved, but his jaw remained stiff.

Under the restaurant’s enviable zen lighting, I could clearly outline the ragged lines on the sides of his eyes and the lingering hope slowly fading away from his gaze.

“I don’t know,” I said, this time with more bark than bite. All I had to say was “yes” and I had no doubt he would hand me the moon. He was wearing me down. After months of playing this game of tug-of-war, I felt myself slowly giving in. Wanting to give in. The thing with Xavier was – he was ice under a gallon of stress and he was nothing short of the persistence gene. I could tell him to swim to Alcatraz and back right now and he’d drop his drawers and traverse the cold frigid waters of the Pacific to satisfy me. He would do all that for me. Without second thoughts he would.

This was the first time I’d addressed his plight. Months, eight months to be exact, he’s hounded me, hijacked my dates, sent me dozens and dozens of flowers at work, and inundated me with unending text messages and a voicemail every night and he’d never gotten any answer back from me. Seeing the uncharacteristic weariness in his handsome features, my heart twinged in pity for him. The man who once held my world in his axis. The one who pulled my heart out of its barbed cage and let it free. Free to love and even trust once again.

Sensing my mood for a decent conversation, he excused us from Trevor. Xavier’s hold on my arm became tense, tighter when I leaned in to kiss Trevor on his left cheek.

“I’ll see you another time, Nalee.” Trevor was now all smiles.

Out of all the dates that Tanya had set me up with, Trevor had the most potential. Potential for a relationship? No. Not in a century. I wasn’t ready for flagellation any time soon. He would be great as a casual date, maybe even a fling, to end my self-inflicted celibacy.

With one last hug that Xavier pulled me from, Trevor promised Xavier that he would call the next time he was in town. When Trevor vowed to take me to a movie premiere, Xavier interrupted him by saying, “I hope you have fun during the rest of your stay.” Pointing to a flock of women by the bar, Xavier continued, “There are a lot of ladies who would welcome your invitation. I apologize in advance…”

“For what?” Trevor’s scrunched his brows in chagrin, his gaze already drifting off to the women who were obviously having too much fun at the bar judging by their boisterous laughter and clinking of champagne glasses.

“The only way Nalee is attending any of your premieres is if she was there with me,” Xavier stated, an air of composure coating his words. Gently guiding me away from Trevor, he added, “Goodnight, man. Have fun.”

Once outside, Xavier was a man on a mission. Quickly asking the valet for his keys, he helped me get situated in the passenger seat and even belted me in before gracing my left hand with a kiss.

“My car –” I started. There was no way I’d be leaving my only means of escape from him. I didn’t even know if he was going to drive us somewhere, but for some reason I was letting him. Something was dropped in my wineglass tonight to make me sit in the same car with him.

“Will be taken care of. Tomorrow.”

He wasn’t making any room for excuses.

“Okay,” I said, feeling the cool air from the car vent on my face. He was eerily quiet. When he was in this state of silence, which was seldom, I knew he was thinking heavily.

I left him to his thoughts, because by the end of tonight, my ties with him would be severed, broken, completely gone. It should feel like weight would be lifted off my shoulders, but how come it felt like I just drenched myself in cement and it’s hard for me to even breathe out of a hole?

I watched as we passed by the familiar bridge well lit by the star-abundant night sky, the fully awake business district of San Francisco, and when the security gates opened to the house that had been my home for a year, a rush of memories came flooding back to me.

After he turned off the engine, we sat in silence, taking in the view of the stately home he’d bought a month before he’d asked me to move in with him.

I was the first to break the frost. “This is it, Xavier. I need you to let me go. Let me move on.”

From my peripheral vision, I saw him grip the steering wheel and slowly his right hand sought my hand. The cool, steady hands I’d missed so much covered my left hand. When he brought our entwined hands to his lips, I turned my face to the right, away from him, away from the house in front of us, away from the remaining footprints, all memories of our love.