Irresistible You

by Celeste O. Norfleet

  Tall, dark and gorgeous was an understatement. At least six foot two, he looked regal. He was stylish and superbly tailored in a dark blue suit with a matching shirt and tie and studded cufflinks—she liked that. He looked dangerous, which made a smile crease her face as her brow arched with added interest.

  She watched as he leisurely and seductively raked his dark eyes over her face and down her body. She liked the sexual twist. Few men had the audacity to openly peruse her body. Like any good performer, she opened her robe to give him a better view. He willingly accepted the invitation.

  Still dressed as Carmen, she had a fringed shawl enticingly wrapped around her hips and a colorful bright red midriff peasant top provocatively hanging off both shoulders. A red silk rose was entwined in her hair which was characteristically left pulled back into a classic style ballerina chignon.

  His eyes sent a heated spark to what had long been a cold embrace around her heart. This was very different and very familiar. Why him, why now?

  She paused. Upon further scrutiny, she smelled the delicately subtle scent of wealth, sophistication and the ever present self-absorbed arrogance. All of which she’d had long ago learned to avoid.

  J.T. shook his head. With his stilted smile in place, the only word he could think to describe this woman was, irresistible, heart-stopping, knee weakening, breathtakingly, irresistible. She stood before him as a vision from his dreams and fantasies.

  He remembered her well, too well. Every inch of her body had been seared into his memory in just one night together. She had a candid street-smart personality wrapped in a slick high-class package. As a ballerina she was poised and dignified. But he could still see the fire spark and burn in her eyes. It was the same fire he felt ten months ago. A fire from a night that he remembered all too well and had never been able to duplicate no matter how had he’d tried.

  The instant she stepped out on stage she had captivated the audience. Juliet Bridges had a presence beyond anything he had ever seen. Enthralled by her beauty and mesmerized by her body, she danced like liquid silk. Gliding gracefully across the stage she had all eyes on her as she held the audience in the palm of her hand.

  But with all her graceful technique, he saw something different. He saw a look that excited him, a look that sparked a primal need inside of him. This was the woman who had stolen something from him that night. Without even knowing it, she’d taken his heart with her when she walked away and didn’t look back.

  “I believe one of us took a wrong turn,” Juliet said as she sashayed further into the dressing room closer to those gorgeous eyes. She stared directly at him as she closed in on her target. A crooked smile appeared on her lips. This was going to be easy she mused as she smirked. Seductively, she licked her lips, purposely allowing her pink tongue to linger a tad longer than necessary. She moved to within just inches of his body. They usually backed up by this time. But he didn’t. She smiled. She always enjoyed a challenge.

  “I once heard that if you wait long enough everything comes back.” Juliet openly looked him up and down. He hadn’t changed a bit. “I guess it’s true.”

  J.T. smirked and chuckled at her obvious insinuation. “I came back for you, but you were gone. So technically, you left me.”

  Keeping direct eye contact, she nodded absently then reached up and ran her finger along her lips then traced his lips and smiled at the expected reaction. It didn’t come. A glint sparked in her eyes. Impulsively she reached up and kissed him—hard and long, it was sexy and sweet and just as she remembered.

  After the kiss she leaned back anticipating his shocked reaction. There was none. She shrugged. “Curious, I just wanted a taste to remember.” She pivoted to walk away but felt her arm caught in a viselike grip.

  J.T. had grabbed her arm. He pulled her back against his chest. Holding her waist firmly, he boldly looked into her surprised eyes. He smiled for the first time since he entered her dressing room. He leaned in to kiss her again. She leaned back then for reasons she couldn’t fathom, she threw her arms around his neck and kissed him with all the passion she felt inside. Just like the first one, this kiss left nothing to the imagination.

  When the kiss ended she stepped back and walked toward the open door. She stood with her hand on the inner doorknob waiting for him to leave. “Goodbye.”

  But before J.T. could speak, Chester Banks suddenly appeared at the open doorway. “Juliet, darling, there you are.” Breathless and anxious, he hurried to her side expecting her usual fury at finding a stranger in her dressing room. But, to his amazement the room was calm and most notably, she hadn’t tried to strangle anyone.

  “You were absolutely brilliant this evening,” Chester began cautiously, “truly the best I’ve ever seen you perform.” He gushed awkwardly. In his typical drooling, one-man fan club, publicist persona, he air kissed her three inches away from each cheek then bear hugged her with the powerful strength of two-year-old toddler.

  “Yes, I know,” she said dryly. She grinned sweetly as she met J.T.’s smug smile head on.

  Chester stepped into the room and closed the door behind him. He watched the two as their eyes remained fixed on each other. A chill shot through him as he felt as if he’d just interrupted something.

  “Chester, how nice of you to join us,” Juliet said still staring at her guest. “J.T.,” she said and smiled smugly.

  “Juliet,” he responded with a curt nod.

  Chester looked between the two again pointing to each in turn. “Do you two already know each other?”

  The obvious question drew an answer from both of them. “No,” they responded in unison.

  Chester’s mouth opened then clamped shut. Speechless and confused, his usual state as far as she was concerned, he looked suspiciously from J.T. to Juliet then back again. There was definitely something going on. “Okay,” he prompted when a moment of silence followed. “Then where are my manners?” he began anxiously now hurrying to J.T.’s side, “J.T., this is the Capitol Ballet Company’s principal ballerina, Juliet Bridges. Juliet this is my guest J.T. Evans and tonight’s sponsor for this special fundraiser performance.”

  Juliet nodded tightly her eyes piercing.

  J.T. nodded in return keeping his gaze leveled at her.

  “Oooo-kay,” Chester said with feigned glee, totally confused, yet completely elated that Juliet hadn’t thrown a tantrum. Granted, he had no idea what was going on at the moment, but that wasn’t anything new for him when it came to Juliet and her mood swings.

  Hastening to fill the void, Chester began a long monologue detailing the merits of the Capitol Ballet Company then listing his patented speech point by point. Meanwhile, Juliet, without warning, opened her robe and unsnapped the satiny shawl from her slim waist. J.T watched as she let the shawl drop to the floor and she stepped away. Now in just her top, tights and pointe shoes she moved to sit down at her dressing table.

  She looked up seeing that his intense eyes still watched her. Juliet looked past her own reflection in the mirror. J.T. returned the polite gesture. An understanding had been reached.

  She smiled coyly at the reserved acknowledgement then looked back as the naked bulbs illuminated her perfect reflection back at her. Barely listening to Chester as he continued to prattle on, she removed her jewelry, the large red flower bobby-pinned in her hair then shrugged the robe onto the back of the chair. J.T. smiled his appreciation, she knew he would.

  She picked up a large white jar from the table and twisted the lid open. She dug her fingers into the creamy white goo just as a knock interrupted the staring competition between the two. “Come,” she called out.

  Roger stuck his head inside. “Juliet, have you seen… oh, there you are Chester,” he stepped inside the dressing room. “Peter needs to speak with you as soon as possible. I think that it has something to do with Vanya’s auction basket.” He turned to leave than changed his mind directing his attention to Juliet seated at the dressing table. “Oh, and Juliet,” Roger’s voice rose
with added inflection, “Peter needs to talk to you before the party this evening.”

  “Why can’t they get anything right? Don’t move, I’ll be right back.” Chester mumbled before disappearing through the door dutifully followed by Roger.

  Juliet proceeded to remove the thick pancake makeup from her face, as J.T stood staring. With her face, now cover in white cold cream, she looked up to him. “If I ignore you, will you go away?” He smiled and shook his head but didn’t answer. “So Mr. Evans, do you talk or would you like to just keep standing there staring at me while I remove my makeup?”

  “Chester was right. You were pretty good out there tonight.”

  “On the contrary, I was phenomenal, but I wasn’t fishing for a compliment,” she said now with a handful of tissues wiping the cream from her face.

  “It was a statement of fact,” he said plainly.

  She looked directly at him through the mirror’s reflection. “Let’s cut to the chase shall we. We know each other well enough not to beat around the bush. What do you want?”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Get to the point. What do you want an autograph, a signed photo, another quick lay with a prima ballerina? What?”

  His brow rose with interest. “Are you always this direct?”

  “You should know.”

  “You’re right, I guess I should.”

  Their eyes met in the mirror again. Each smiled remembering just how direct she could be. “It saves time in the long run.” With her face, now perfectly clean, she spun the chair around to face him. “Well, what’s it gonna be Mr. Evans?”

  His smile turned to a knowing chuckle. “It’s J.T. And as you said, we know each other well enough.”

  “Okay J.T., what’s it gonna be?”

  “Why don’t we play it by ear for the time being?”

  Juliet stood to face him remembering that those were the exact words he had used ten months ago when they shared a hotel room. “That was a long time ago.”

  J.T. walked to the door. He grabbed the knob. “Ten months isn’t that long ago Juliet.” He turned the knob and opened the door.

  “It was one night,” she said as he stepped through.

  “Some say that one night can be a lifetime. We’ll talk later,” he answered as the door closed behind him.

  “Bet on it,” she said to the empty room as the idea of attending the fundraiser began to appeal to her. She owed J.T. Evans. No man had ever walked away from her like he did.

  She grabbed her robe from the back of the chair and a fresh towel from the cabinet in the small bathroom. She reached into the shower stall and turned on the cool refreshing water. She removed her clothes and stepped in letting the water wash away her stress. Tonight promised to be an interesting evening.

  Chapter Five

  Officially named the Washington Cultural Center, J.T. walked around the huge open space. Although he’d been here just two years earlier to celebrate a product launch, he barely had time to appreciate it then. The open airy space with huge floor-to-ceiling windows afforded an excellent view of the gardens and promenade outside, while keeping guests cool and refreshed inside.

  Built in the mid-60s, the main promenade and lobby had a vaulted ceiling, at least two stories high, with live trees and Italian marble floors polished to a reflective sheen. Monochromatic and minimalistic in design, it was traditional and classical, and complimented the evening’s performance.

  J.T. stood by one of the long tablecloth-covered tables topped with cascading floral arrangements and a variety of appetizers, hors d'oeuvre and aperitifs. Talking with several businessmen and women, he watched as one by one dancers joined the gathering. But to his disappointment Juliet had yet to arrive.

  Beset by several members of his mother’s arts organization who had instantly recognized him, J.T. tried to be as attentive as possible.

  They asked Taylor’s whereabouts. J.T. offered her regrets and apologies for her uncharacteristic absence. She’d called him at the last minute to inform him that, due to unforeseen circumstances, she was unable to attend, but for him to go ahead without her.

  They expressed their concern then began talking endlessly about the commission’s projects, their regard for his parents and lastly as he expected, about the merits of him becoming a more active member of the commission.

  J.T. quickly, expertly, sidestepped all of their attempts at pinning him down to attend the next meeting, citing his workload and travel schedule and his mother’s dedication to the organization. He nodded attentively but continually focused his attention on the guests as they arrived.

  Afterwards he excused himself and walked over to the bar. Standing there gave him an unobstructed view of the entrance. As each dancer arrived a wave of excitement rushed through the crowd. The most intense was when the second leads, Vanya Kastavah and Damon Hall, arrived.

  Smiling brightly Vanya looked around the room. Juliet was noticeably absent as usual. Her ego swelled. She had delayed her arrival as long as she dared. Making a grand entrance took ingenuity and timing, both of which she was blessed with. Having guessed that Juliet would pass on the gala—showing her usual disrespect for the patrons—Vanya was pleased that she was left alone to take advantage of the opportunity.

  She was born for this her mother always told her. Her mother, an African-American diplomat’s assistant, who’d married a Russian dancer knew as soon as she sent her daughter to her first ballet class that she would be center stage. Holding her head high, Vanya looked around scanning the crowd. Remembering her mother’s words well, she took her place center stage.

  She worked the room like a professional. She had learned from the best. Madame Jacqueline was an exceptional instructor with a superior eye for talent. She was the founder, artistic director and choreographer of the Cheva Ballet Group, a small poorly maintained studio in the southwestern part of Russia. The moment Madame Jacqueline laid eyes on Vanya she was spellbound. Vanya had been her pupil for the next six years and in that time she had learned a lot about dance and about life.

  At the tender age of thirteen she had left her father’s homeland and come to America to dance with a world famous company. But now, at the age of eighteen, instead of fulfilling her mother’s prophecy, she had been relegated to the second position and soloist because Juliet Bridges was jealous of her talent and her youth.

  Everyone knew that Juliet was well past her prime. But no one had enough courage to stand up to her. It was time for new blood at center stage, and the new blood was her.

  Vanya greeted her fans with all the poise and grace of a queen ascending her throne. She smiled and laughed while strategically planning her next casual meeting. She held her hand out to be kissed as soon as she walked up to her fans. They loved it, they loved her.

  The women, thrilled at meeting her, marveled at her prettiness and her small waiflike frame. The men were attracted to her body and sensuality, and were excited by the possibilities. She knew the game and played it to perfection. Every new face in the crowd noticed her she made sure of that. As Madame Jacqueline always said, the more the patrons loved you, the further your star will rise and the brighter it will shine. She learned early on that money moved the ballet world, not talent.

  Vanya swayed her narrow hips across the room and stood by Chester. She tiptoed to whisper in his ear. “Who is that man? I’ve seen him before.”

  Chester leaned down and inched closer to Vanya. The nearness of her tiny body sent a lustful shiver down his. He couldn’t wait to get out of there and take Vanya to his bed. As a dancer she was limber, as a woman she was seductive and as a Russian she was her father’s child.

  “What man?” Chester asked.

  “Him, over there in the blue, talking with Peter and Richard,” Vanya pointed out.

  Chester looked across the room and found J.T. in her line of vision. “You probably do recognize him. That’s J.T. Evans from E-Corp.”

  “What’s E-Corp?”

  “It’s a major player
in the computer software industry. J.T.’s in the business section of the newspapers or magazine a least once a month. His family is one of the wealthiest African-American families in the States.”

  An interested smiled tipped her full lips upwards. The moment he mentioned wealth her interest level was piqued. He was just what she was looking for, all she needed was a wealthy benefactor and Juliet would be out of her way. J.T. Evans was perfect. All she had to do was pay him a little attention and she’d have everything she ever wanted. She smiled sweetly as Chester continued. “He came to meet Juliet.”

  “What?” Her sweet innocent expression instantly faded.

  “Juliet, he came specifically to meet her.”

  “Why her, why Juliet?” she demanded.

  Chester shrugged. “I don’t know. I got a call from his office requesting that I set up a meeting tonight.”

  “But Juliet’s not here, so he hasn’t met her yet.”

  “No, they met earlier in her dressing room. I introduced them right after her performance. I wonder where she is?” Chester began looking around through the crowded room.

  Vanya rolled her eyes. Again Juliet was the topic of conversation. “I want to meet him, introduce me,” she insisted.

  “Okay,” Chester agreed reluctantly. The two made their way across the room just as Richard was pulled away. “J.T.,” Chester began. “I’d like to introduce you to the company’s next great star, Vanya Kastavah. Vanya, this is J.T. Evans of E-Corp.”

  Vanya stepped closer, eased and raised her hand for J.T. to kiss. He took her hand, lowered it and shook it. Her disappointment was obvious. “How do you do Monsieur Evans.” She added with a pert nod and fluttering lashes.

  “Nice to meet you Vanya,” J.T. said looking down on what seemed to be a mere child pretending to be an adult. He raised his brow knowingly. He’d certainly noticed Vanya earlier. She entered the room like a star. He also noticed how she connected with every wealthy patron in the room. And now, apparently it was his turn. This was a woman on a mission. She was definitely after something. He knew her type instantly. Young, hungry for more and eager to get it anyway she could.