Love in the Limelight: Volume One

by Brenda Jackson, A. C. Arthur

  Ms. Charlene Quinn might be that something.

  Chapter 7

  Twelve hours. That’s how long they’d been in the studio. Today’s session moved a lot more slowly than yesterday’s. Charlene attributed that to the surly attitude of her star producer.

  On the one hand, she couldn’t dismiss Akil’s talent or his keen sense of knowing what worked and what didn’t. On the other, his personality sucked!

  All day she’d been singing, taking his direction and starting over and over again. This song, “Break You Down,” had a dance rhythm, it was fast and sexy and hip. There was even a rap part that Jason said they were trying to get Young Jeezy, Drake or Ludacris to do. Her personal preference would have been Ludacris but from the way Akil looked at Jason when he’d told her this, she figured she’d best keep that opinion to herself.

  Now it was just past midnight, she was tired and hungry and cranky.

  “Okay, let’s try this—” Akil began saying.

  But Jason, who had just come into the isolation booth with her to see how she was doing, pushed the intercom button and interrupted him.

  “I think it’s a wrap for today, Akil. She needs to get some rest.”

  Akil’s frown was instant, his dark gaze seeking hers. And her eyes found his just like she knew they would. It was as if she knew the exact moment he was going to look at her, like they were drawn together like magnets. It was eerie and stirring all at the same time.

  She didn’t open her mouth although she desperately wanted to agree with Jason. Instead she waited for Akil’s response. But he didn’t say a thing, only continued to stare at her as if she were the only person in the room.

  “Fine,” was his tight reply.

  She released the breath she hadn’t been aware she was holding the moment he looked away from her.

  “Listen, I’m sorry about that. I don’t know what’s going on with him. He’s usually not this bad.”

  Charlene had already slipped off the stool she’d been sitting on and stretched. “You mean he’s not always a mean SOB?”

  Jason chuckled. “Yeah, that’s exactly what I mean. He’s a perfectionist and he gets the job done. I just don’t know what’s up with the attitude lately.”

  She nodded. “Maybe it’s just me,” she said, absently moving toward the door to let them both out.

  “You know, I think you’re right.”

  Stopping abruptly at his words, she turned to face him and asked, “Really? You think I did something to piss him off?”

  “Oh, no,” he replied quickly. “Nothing like that. You’re doing a great job. I mean, I’ve worked with a lot of singers and you’ve got them beat by a long shot. Don’t worry about it,” he said, putting an arm around her and walking toward the main door of the studio.

  “Okay, well, I’m off to bed. I’ll see you two in the morning,” she said, deciding quickly that Akil Hutton’s bad attitude was taking too much of her energy for one day. But just as she was nearing the door, now a few feet away from Jason, Akil stepped out of the live room.

  “You know this is serious business, Charlene. If you can’t hang, just let me know.”

  The professional in her said to smile, say good-night and keep going, but the other part of her, the one that lived by the motto I Am Woman, Hear Me Roar, spun around so quickly she could have snapped her neck.

  “I understand this is serious business, Mr. Hutton. I’m doing my job. If you have a problem with it, just let me know.”

  Folding his arms over his chest only made him look angrier—not intimidating the way she figured he’d meant.

  “My problem is with your carefree attitude. Despite the impression others may have given,” he said, cutting an evil eye at Jason, “we don’t play all day. This is about working hard to achieve a finished product we’re all happy with. A CD that will sell. A product we can market.”

  Her hand was sliding to her hip before she could stop it and she’d taken a step closer to Akil. “And you don’t think I want the same thing?”

  “I don’t think you know how serious this all is.”

  “I flew down here, didn’t I? I studied the songs like you told me. I sang for eleven hours yesterday and almost twelve and a half today. I did the warm-ups you requested although you and I both know it was unnecessary. I’ve adhered to all the changes you’ve made in the song when again, we both know, they weren’t necessary. What else would you have me do to show I’m serious about this business, as you call it? Jump through hoops singing nursery rhymes backward?”

  Jason stuffed his hands into his pockets, looking like he didn’t know what to say to either of them. And Akil just stood there. Not saying anything and not budging.

  “Good night, Charlene,” was all he finally managed.

  Biting back the rest of what she wanted to say to him she looked directly at Jason. “Good night, Jason.”

  * * *

  He was an idiot.

  Ten times an idiot, he’d told himself with each step he took upstairs.

  “You’re trippin’,” was all Jason had said to him the moment Charlene left them alone. Akil had to admit his longtime friend was absolutely right.

  He was trippin’. Over the fact that Charlene reminded him of Lauren and over the fact that he was attracted to her. This was not how he usually handled women and it was certainly not how he handled clients. What the hell was wrong with him?

  Akil didn’t have a clear answer to that question, but had decided to put an end to at least one of his mistakes. He’d been wrong to treat Charlene the way he did and Akil always admitted when he was wrong.

  Just apologize and say good-night, he told himself when he finally stood in front of her door. Tomorrow’s a fresh start, he recited in his mind while lifting a hand and knocking softly.

  It seemed like an eternity standing there in the hallway, his fingers clenching and unclenching at his sides. He was about to give up, figuring she was already asleep and turning to leave, when she opened the door.

  “Akil?” Even the sound of his name in her voice was alluring. He was so busted. “Did you have something else to say to me?” she asked in a frostier tone.

  He deserved it.

  “Yes, I did.” Taking a deep breath, he looked right into her eyes. No, more like fell into the complete compassion and honesty he saw there. Damn, could he feel like more of a fool?

  “Look, I apologize for acting like an ass today.”

  She raised one of those thick, arched eyebrows and he sighed.

  “Okay, I apologize for acting like an ass since you’ve arrived. I’ve been rude and harsh and it was totally uncalled for.”

  She nodded her head slowly and his gaze slipped from her eyes to what she was wearing.

  “I accept your apology,” she said, taking a step back like she was retreating into the room to leave him standing out there.

  But that was a no-no.

  In the time it had taken him to curse himself, shut down the studio and walk upstairs, she’d changed from the jeans and shirt she was wearing to a floor-length nightgown. It shouldn’t have been sexy because it showed nothing but her bare arms. Every other inch of her was covered all the way up to the shoelace-type tie at the base of her neck. Whatever, it made her butter-toned skin appear even more radiant, her eyes just a tad exotic.

  He felt himself stiffen as his eyes raked over her, up and down and down and up. The moment she moved he reached for her, grabbed her by the elbow and took a step closer so that they were face-to-face.

  She opened her mouth to speak and he knew there would be an argument. She’d tell him to get off of her and he’d refuse, it would go nowhere. So instead he simply lowered his head, let his lips touch hers lightly and shivered at the connection.

  Releasing her arm and pretty certain that she wasn’t going to run, Akil lifted both hands and cupped her perfect face, tilting her mouth so that it was easier for his taking. He’d meant to move slow, to sort of sip on her sweetness, but the moment his tongue
touched hers, slow and sweet withered away.

  Instead the kiss turned into a firestorm, bolts of lightning probably fizzled above them as he moved closer, sank deeper into her taste. Somewhere in the distance he thought he heard her moan, then her palms flattened on his chest. Something feral and distinct rose in his chest and he took more and more.

  She sighed. Or was it him?

  Her hands slipped downward, wrapped around his waist.

  He moaned, but then again, it could have been her.

  His thumbs brushed over her cheekbones as his teeth bit lightly on her bottom lip.

  “Damn.”

  Somebody said it, he just didn’t know who.

  Her tongue traced his top lip and he shook, right down to his toes, his entire body vibrated. He took her lower lip, suckled for a moment before diving back into the warmth of her mouth. It was fevered and hurried, urgent and dire. He wanted so much more, needed this to last just a little bit longer.

  At the same time warning bells echoed in his head, chiming and all but chanting for him to stop, to take this slow, to be sure. He pulled back, tore his lips from hers, but couldn’t bear to stop touching her. Breathing like he’d just run a marathon, he rested his forehead on hers, felt her trying to steady herself, as well.

  “I didn’t do that because I like you,” he said gruffly, his hand still cupping her face.

  “Then you must lie as good as you produce music,” she replied, pulling out of his embrace, stepping back into her room and closing the door quietly.

  Chapter 8

  Akil Hutton liked her.

  The superproducer with the volatile dark brown eyes, multimillion-dollar bank account and cranky attitude liked her. The not-so-skinny woman who loved to sing but didn’t want the spotlight.

  Rolling over in the king-size bed with mauve satin sheets in a room she’d only been in for three days but already felt comfortable in, Charlene smothered a smile with the back of her hand.

  He’d come to apologize and she’d accepted. She hadn’t a moment to digest that little bit of information before he was in her face, touching her arm, his lips moving against hers.

  It had been strange to kiss him. To kiss Akil.

  She’d kissed men before, no way was she inexperienced in that area. She’d kissed men and had sex. Yet the three experiences she’d had were just a reaction to the attraction of male and female.

  Clutching a pillow in her arms, she relaxed to the notion that she was attracted to Akil. Hadn’t she already accepted that fact yesterday? Yeah, but that was before he’d been, in his own words, “an ass” after their recording session.

  And before he’d kissed her.

  As she lifted a hand back to her mouth, one finger slid slowly over lips that still tingled from his touch. Hours later it felt like he’d just pulled away, just stopped giving her the best kiss she’d ever had.

  Then he’d pulled away and said something else stupid. She’d swear that man invented the concept of not knowing what to say out of his mouth. Sitting up in the bed abruptly, she craned her neck to look at the clock on the nightstand. The last thing she wanted was to be late for another session. Only Akil hadn’t said what time today’s session was going to start. Forget it, she thought, moving her legs and letting her feet hit the floor. She’d be early if that were the case.

  Twenty minutes later, after her shower and slipping into a turquoise-and-white sundress that hugged her breasts, tied around the neck and hung loose to her ankles, she moved to the closet and surveyed herself in the floor-length mirror. She loved this dress because besides the curve of her breasts that were lifted high in her super-supportive bustier, no other aspect of her figure was decipherable. She’d fussed for a few minutes with her hair, adding some curl to the normally plain ponytail she wore.

  Not because of Akil’s kiss, but because the dress made her feel more feminine than jeans and a shirt. She figured her hairstyle should support that feeling. When she was satisfied with her overall look she picked up her music from the table right by the door, reached for the knob and pulled it open.

  “Good morning,” Akil said, an unfamiliar, yet sexy, smile pulling at his lips.

  Her heart leaped; the hand that was on the doorknob quickly went to her chest as if that action would stop the now-rapid beating. “Mornin’,” she finally managed. “What are you doing here?”

  In addition to the uncustomary smile he was wearing, his light blue jeans and royal blue sneakers that matched the royal blue T-shirt he wore were casual and unlike anything she’d seen him wear thus far. He looked different, relaxed, and she was trying to figure out why.

  “Truce,” he said, pulling a hand from behind his back and offering her one long-stemmed pink rose.

  Her smile was instant and probably as big as the proverbial Cheshire Cat’s, but she couldn’t tone it down. Not while reaching for the perfectly simple, perfectly beautiful rose.

  “I was just coming to meet you in the studio.” As soon as the words were out she figured they weren’t what he’d probably expected to hear. “I mean, thanks. I hope I’m not late for the session again.”

  All of a sudden she felt shy and more than a little nervous. What happened to the woman who was so sure he liked her and was just a bit proud of that fact? She’d apparently stayed somewhere in that bed, probably hiding under the sheets. Because right now she was plagued once again with the question, why?

  Akil shook his head. “Nah. I figured we’d start a little later today. Give us time to get a good breakfast first. Join me?”

  His extended hand stood between them and looked a little out of place since before last night he’d never touched her and she hadn’t thought of touching him. Those butterflies were back, performing a whole choreographed number probably for the benefit of telling her to take his hand and go.

  With a mental shrug she dropped the music she’d held in one hand onto the table by the door. Taking his hand, she put the rose to her nose and inhaled. “Breakfast sounds good.”

  * * *

  The terrace was located on the south side of the house, so in the morning it received lots of sun. One long glass-topped table with white, high-backed chairs was shaded by the deck covering above. Still, the light morning breeze trickled inside, lifting the tips of her hair just slightly.

  Akil wasn’t surprised. He’d been noticing little things like that about Charlene since he’d first seen her photo. All those little things were adding up to something, he knew. Last night after she’d closed the door in his face, again, he’d felt even more disturbed. What was it about her that had him acting like a confused teenager?

  Bottom line, they had two things going on here—his budding attraction to her and this CD. There needed to be boundaries so things wouldn’t get out of control.

  She was sitting across from him, had set the rose he gave her right beside her place setting. She kept looking at it, like it meant a lot to her. Actually, it had been an afterthought for him to bring it to her. Mrs. Williamson, for some reason, loved to have fresh flowers around the house. It didn’t bother him and he was used to seeing or smelling them all around whenever he was here.

  “About the last few days,” he started, never being one to beat around the bush. “Again, I want to apologize. I’m not usually that hard to work with.”

  “Should I consider myself special?” she asked with that smile that had warmth beginning to spread from somewhere in the southerly region of his body.

  “Let’s just say I needed to get a handle on a few things.” She looked away from him and he wondered if once again he’d said the wrong thing. “That doesn’t make you any less special. It’s just that the problem was mine, not yours.”

  She shrugged. “So you’ve fixed the problem?”

  Mrs. Williamson, with the young housekeeper, Nannette, following behind her with a big pitcher of orange juice, approached the table.

  “Good morning. Breakfast will be served in a few minutes,” she said, moving her sixty-four-year-
old body as if she weren’t a day over twenty-one. She was a tall woman with a thick build and a scowl that could burn a hole right through you. Delores Williamson also possessed a laugh that could touch the deepest recesses of a person’s heart and the compassion to save the world if she could. She was a great woman, a great find on Akil’s part. He loved her like a mother and she treated him like a son.

  “Thank you,” Charlene murmured as Mrs. Williamson placed a glass in front of her and Nannette quickly filled it with orange juice. She smiled at them both then lifted the glass to her mouth for a sip.

  Akil nodded his head and waited until they were once again alone. “I’ve come to grips with a few things that were bothering me.” He picked up the conversation where he’d left off.

  “Oh, the fact that you didn’t want to like me, for instance?”

  She was smart and to the point. He liked that about her.

  “I never said I didn’t want to like you.”

  “No. You just said you didn’t like me.” Her head tilted a bit to the side and her eyes squinted. He couldn’t tell if it was because she was studying him so hard or that the sun was getting in her eyes.

  “But do you normally kiss women you don’t like?” she asked.

  He’d known he wasn’t going to be able to avoid that question or what he’d done last night. And for the record he hadn’t regretted the kiss. In fact, it had played an intricate part in the sultry dreams he’d had about her throughout the night. The ones he wasn’t about to mention to her.

  Clearing his throat, he replied, “I don’t normally kiss women that I don’t like. And I never kiss singers that I’m working with.”

  “Oh.” She sat back in her chair as if the picture was just now clearing for her. “So, clarify something for me. Are you upset that you’re attracted to someone like me or because you’re attracted to a singer?”