She leaned down and kissed him. They devoured each other. After a while she sat up and looked down at his perfection. His dark pebbled nipples took her interest. She leaned over and circled her palms on his nipples. His body tensed. She tweaked them, and he bucked impulsively. She smiled knowingly and reached down between their bodies. She found her treasure. She held tight, placing him where she needed him to be. She raised her hips to impale herself as he surged forward. They met in the first of many explosive thrusts.
The intensity of their joining eclipsed everything around them. Strength for strength, power for power, passion on top of passion, they made love. She sat up, reaching back, keeping her balance by holding on to his thighs. She gyrated, grinding into him. The easy flow of her body met his in the rhythmic dance of passion. He held her waist, looking up and loving the sight of her on top.
She leaned forward, placing her hands on his chest. She tweaked his nipples, remembering his sensitivity. He instantly trembled and lurched upward deeper into her. She tweaked again. He bucked. The correlation was obvious. The more she stimulated his nipples, the harder he thrust. She found that she liked this new power over him. She tweaked more, and he gave her exactly what she wanted. Fast and furious, she held tight for the ride of her life. Then, in one blinding, breath-stealing, mind-dizzying, thrusting instance, she climaxed.
Her body shuddered and shook. He smiled. He liked the sight of her climaxing. He thrust his hips upward. His hard arousal stimulated the one spot that could make her scream his name. She came again, breathless and shrieking, holding tight as her body trembled weakly. He thrust into her once more. She came again in a spasm that made her scream his name. That was what he wanted to hear. He sat up and held her tight. Still shaky, she wrapped her arms around his neck and waited, wondering if her heart would ever be hers again.
Moments later, still connected, they continued. She sat up then plunged down onto his hardness. Over and over, deeper and deeper onto him she propelled her body, then faster and faster until they were both beyond the point of no return. They exploded. Writhing, sated and breathless, they held each other in passion, in pleasure, and then later in sleep.
Shortly before dawn, Devon awoke and reached out to an empty bed. Jazz was gone. He sat up and looked around. The room was lit up. Jazz was gone, again. He got up and wrapped an elaborately designed sarong low around his hips. He walked through the house, hoping that she hadn’t left him like the last time. He noticed the kitchen sliding door was slightly ajar. He stepped outside onto the deck. She wasn’t there. Then, just as he turned to go back inside, he saw her standing on the beach at the water’s edge.
He walked down the steps and over to her. He stood just behind her as dawn approached. Not wanting to interrupt her moment of serenity, he just stood there silently. Then it occurred to him that she might want to be alone. He took a step back and turned to leave.
Jazz knew he was there even though he didn’t say a word. She turned and saw him turning away. “No, don’t go,” she whispered. “Please, I want you to stay with me.”
He stopped and turned back to her. “I saw you standing out here. I came out, and then it occurred to me that you might prefer to be alone.”
“I think I’ve been alone too much.” She reached out her hand to him. He grasped it, tucking her easily into his strong embrace, wrapping his arms around her body and holding her tight. She leaned back against his strength, feeling her own power increase. Being embraced within Devon’s arms always made her feel stronger. They stood in silence, watching the new day approach.
“I’ve seen you out here before,” Devon said softly. “I didn’t know it was you.”
She nodded. “Sunrise is very special to me. It’s a new chance, a start of something, a new beginning. A brand-new day that I can change and make of it what I want.”
“I like that idea—a new beginning.”
“Me, too,” she said, turning to him. She smiled, looking up into his warm eyes. His tenderness soothed her troubled heart. They kissed softly. Then she laid her head on his shoulder as his strong arms held her tight. This was where she wanted to be, now and forever.
“Would you be my beginning?” he asked, nuzzling her close.
She smiled. “Yes, I will be your beginning.”
For Devon the seemingly lighthearted comment was more than just words. He wanted Jazz to be his beginning today and every day for the rest of his life. He loved her, and even though she hadn’t said it, he knew that she loved him, too.
Just then her wayward dog came up to her. “Hey, where have you been lately?” she looked down and asked. The dog barked once and sat down, raising his paw as his tail wagged nonstop.
“Who’s this? A friend of yours?” Devon asked.
“I don’t really know, I guess so. He hangs out on the beach with me sometimes in the mornings when I walk. He comes and goes. I don’t know where he belongs or who he belongs to.”
“Probably a stray. I don’t see any tags on him,” he said. The dog stood up again, wagging his tail. He rubbed his face up against Jazz’s leg happily. “It looks like he really likes you.” Just then someone whistled down the beach and the dog took off running.
“Fickle. So much for liking me. I think I have that effect on a lot of men. They love me then leave me.”
“Not this one,” Devon promised, holding her again.
After a while she answered him. “Yes, Devon, I’d like to go on a date with you. You can pick me up at my apartment. I’m leaving for New York today.”
Chapter 17
INTERIOR—NEW YORK
After the initial shock of hearing that Jazz was leaving Sag Harbor, Devon quickly regrouped. He planned an amazing evening out in New York City. He picked her up at nine at her SoHo apartment and headed to one of the hottest restaurants and night clubs in the city.
“So, where are we going tonight?” Jazz asked, marveling at the city lights all over again. She never got enough of New York City.
“You’ll see,” Devon said, easily maneuvering the streets.
“A surprise, huh? Okay, I like surprises.”
Devon glanced over at her and smiled. “Really, I’ll have to remember that. So, now that you’re back in New York, what are your plans?”
“Actually, New York is just a pit stop. I need to go home.”
“Los Angeles,” he said.
“Yes, I haven’t been back in almost a year. I left right after Brian died.”
“When are you going back?”
“Soon—day after tomorrow. I have something to finish and some meetings to attend. Plus, I need to catch up with my producer and my father.”
“Your producer, as in music producer? Are you thinking about making a CD?” She nodded. “What about your career as an actress?”
“It’s still there. I have no doubt that my father made sure of that. Brian wrote a script. Frank has it. It’s brilliant. He’s talking to the studio about it now. He’s going to produce and direct, and Brian requested that I star in it.”
“That’s fantastic. When does all this start?”
“It already has.”
“And your father? I’ve always heard that the two of you don’t get along.”
“That’s a long, crazy story.” She took a deep breath and slowly began. “Frank and I never had a father-daughter relationship. We never got along. Well, that’s not completely true. I adored him when I was young. He’d come over to the house or we’d meet him someplace, and it was like heaven. He’d buy me anything, everything. Then I grew up. I found out my family history, and that was the end of that. Ultimately, my mother sacrificed everything to keep me and give him what he needed.”
“Which was?”
“His career.”
“But how did that alienate the two of you?”
“He had a chance to make it right, but he didn’t. Years ago a book came out. It was the unofficial biography of my father’s life. I read it. It claimed that my mother seduced him and tried t
o destroy his family. I knew she didn’t, but it was still so hurtful and vicious. The details were perfect. It was like the writer knew exactly what was going on in our lives. Anyway, that pretty much ruined my mother’s career. On the other hand, my father’s career exploded.”
“And you thought he had something to do with it?”
“No, he would never do that to her. If anyone, it was Brian’s mother who fed them the lies about what happened. She’s a real work of art. Brian used to tell me all these things about her—her prescription drug abuse, her wild partying. So it was suspicious that the book made her look like a Mother Theresa. She was the wronged wife, and after a while she took on that role and became Mrs. Perfection. When my father finally divorced her, she did what she did before and went public to make herself look good. A second book came out. This time it wasn’t as flattering as the first. Her career went down fast. The soap opera queen was finally dethroned. I can’t say that I was all that heartbroken when I heard.”
“So you didn’t blame your father the first time?”
“No, not really. Our relationship was already pretty bad. The book just put a different face on it. It is what it is.”
“So then why all the animosity toward him now?” he asked.
“He could have stopped it. All of his friends knew that he loved my mom, but nobody ever said a word. He never told the truth and stood up for her. I always figured that’s what being in love was supposed to be about. Stepping up and protecting the one you love. That’s what my mom did. She stepped aside to let Frank have his dream.”
“She gave up everything for him,” Devon said.
Jazz nodded. “Everything except me. That’s what she always taught me—love and sacrifice. But in the end it wasn’t enough. She loved and protected what they had all her life.” She lapsed into silence then decided not to let this spoil their evening. “Okay, enough of that. So tell me—what’s happening with your contract?”
“Nope, no football talk tonight. Tonight is solely for us.”
“Hmm,” she said, “I think I like the sound of that.”
Moments later Devon drove up to the valet stand and all heads turned in his direction. The Spotlight NYC, owned by his cousin, was a well-known hangout for celebrities, so photographers and paparazzi were there in full force. There was an instant trample of pushing and shoving as each cameraman was eager to get that perfect shot, hopefully one as scandalous as possible.
Before getting out, Devon took Jazz’s hand and looked into her eyes. “Are you ready for this?” he asked. She nodded and smiled. “We can go someplace less conspicuous.”
“No, this is perfect.”
He nodded, then got out as the cameras started. Near blinded, he smiled with ease and strolled to the passenger side of the car. He reached his hand down, and Jazz grasped it, and just like that, she stepped back into the spotlight. The camera flashes went wild, and questions peppered them like a raining downpour. She answered a few as they walked into the restaurant’s foyer. They were immediately escorted to a private booth.
The evening was magical. Dinner and entertainment were sensational. Jazz met the owner of Spotlight NYC, Devon’s cousin, Dennis Hayes. He sent over a bottle of wine and a full dessert tray to top off the evening. Later, well after the restaurant had closed to the public, Jazz went onstage and was introduced to the local singer who was the night’s entertainment. She was young and her voice was pitch-perfect. Her name was Phoenix, and she was thrilled to meet Jazz. They talked about performing and careers. She wanted desperately to get signed, so Jazz took her information and promised to pass it on to her producer.
After everyone had gone, Jazz and Devon hung around with Dennis as he finished up for the night. Jazz sat at the piano onstage and played. Her voice was as pure and perfect as always. She played and sang some of her mother’s music and then some of her own. Devon stood at the bar in the empty dining area enjoying the private concert. Dennis walked over and stood next to him.
“Man, she is incredible. I forget how amazing her voice is. It’s gotten even better over the years. She’s got that old-school sound going on now. I tell you, if she ever wants to book a small venue, I’m putting my bid in right now. She’d pack this place to the rafters.”
Devon was just as amazed. Jazz had never sung in front of him before. He knew she could sing, of course. He had her CDs and remembered her singing as a teen sensation, but her voice was richer and fuller now. The tone was sultry and seductive. “Yes, she is most definitely incredible.”
“Yeah, I know that she’s a great actress and all, but she really needs to perform again. She’d blow this place out.” They continued listening in silence to the next selection. When it ended, Dennis turned to his cousin. “So, you and Jazelle Richardson,” he said rather than asked. Devon nodded as he smiled adoringly at Jazz. “Is it serious?” Dennis asked.
Devon nodded again. “Very. I love her.”
“That part is very obvious. You haven’t taken your eyes off of her since you walked in the front door. I don’t know how you drove here tonight,” Dennis said, chuckling.
“She’s exactly the woman I want in my life.”
“I’m happy for you, man. I wish you the best.” They shook hands and bumped shoulders. Jazz walked over, smiling. She thanked Dennis for a wonderful evening as they prepared to leave.
When they left, the street was empty. All signs of cameras and photographers had long gone. They said their good-nights to Dennis and headed home. Several streets were blocked with road repair, so they cut through Central Park. On a whim, Devon parked his car and they walked down Fifth Avenue.
It was early morning, and the streets were mostly empty. They strolled and window-shopped, stopping first at FAO Schwarz, and then continuing to Bergdorf Goodman and other fashionable stores along the avenue. When they came to the crown or, rather, tiara of Fifth Avenue, they stopped. Tiffany & Co.’s window wasn’t particularly stylish or chic, but everything it represented was. It was old money and old glamour.
Jazz looked over the sparking jewels secured behind the thick glass. Her eyes instantly went to the center display of one window. It was a single diamond cut into a star, and it was breathtaking. She smiled, remembering her first star.
“I love this place,” she said dreamily. “My mother brought me here when I was a kid. She’d just gotten her first paycheck from some off-Broadway production she was doing. She bought me a star earring. It was my first diamond anything. I was ten. I still wear it.”
Devon stood behind her and held her close. “So, if you had to choose one of these, which one do you like the best?” he asked of the stunning display of diamond pendants in the side window.
“That’s impossible. It would be like choosing your favorite star in the night sky. They’re all equally stunning,” she said, looking longingly at the center display while easily avoiding his question.
“No, they’re not. You outshine them all,” he said, taking her waist and turning her around to face him. He leaned down and kissed her tenderly, then pulled a light blue ribbon attached to a stunning diamond pendant from his pocket. Jazz gasped. It was the center display, and it was huge. It shined and sparkled brilliantly beneath the street lights.
“You’re kidding. You bought this?”
“No, I bought this for you,” he said.
“Devon, no, I can’t accept this.”
“You have to,” he said, unfastening the clasp and putting it around her neck. “I tore up the receipt.” He secured the latch and took a step back. It was just as he imagined—stunning.
She touched her earring and then her pendant, then leaned up and kissed him. “This is the best breakfast at Tiffany’s ever. It’s perfect, thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
She touched the diamond again. “I love it. I love you.”
“I love you, too.” He wrapped his arms around her as they walked a bit farther then crossed the street and headed back to the car. They went back to her
apartment just as dawn broke over the city. They were totally exhausted after a wonderful day and night together. Devon stayed over. They made long-lasting love before falling asleep in each other’s arms.
A few hours later, Jazz woke up to a gentle kiss. Devon was dressed and sitting on the side of the bed, smiling down at her. She touched her neckline, feeling the diamond star still there. She never slept in jewelry, but it seemed perfect that it was the only thing she wore when they made love the night before. “You’re dressed,” she said sleepily.
“I have to go. My agent called earlier. There’s craziness going on with the contract. I have to get there as soon as possible.”
“There’s a problem?” she asked. “What is it?”
“I don’t know. He didn’t say. Front office wants me now.”
“What did he say exactly? What happened?”
“I’ll take care of it.”
“Is there anything I can do?” she asked.
“No, it’s on the West Coast. I shouldn’t be long.”
“Wait. I’ll go with you,” she said eagerly.
“No, stay here. I’ll be in meetings all day. I’ll call you when I’m on my way back,” he said. “Whatever it is, I’ll take care of it and be back later this evening, so be rested and ready for me when I get here.” He leered.
Jazz instinctively knew that something was going on. She also had a feeling Devon knew more than he was saying. “But maybe I can help,” she said, sitting up quickly. The sheet dropped, exposing her breasts. Devon looked down at her body longingly. He licked his lips and closed his eyes to focus on what he needed to do. But right now all he could think about was their night of passion and making love to her again right now.
“Jazz,” he said, looking at her perky breasts and tender nipples again. “You’re killing me.”
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