Queen of His Heart (16 page)

He looked up. “What?”

“Oh, nothing.” She felt disheartened.

Keenan turned his attention back to the computer while Nitara thought for a moment. “Keenan, you know, just because things didn't work out with Tenetria, it's not a reason to just throw in the hat.”

He didn't respond.

“Does that mean that you don't want to talk about it?” she asked.

“I've avoided talking about it for five years. I don't see any reason to start talking about it now.”

“Maybe that's
exactly
the reason why you need to talk about it now. You can't just give up. Everyone deserves love. Everyone deserves to be with that special someone.”

Keenan pushed back in his chair. “Why do all women believe that stuff?”

She looked at him in stunned surprise.

“Women have been sold this fairy-tale crap that men simply can't live up to. There are plenty of people who live their whole lives without finding
the one
. Love is just a…lucky shot in the dark. I should know. I tried.” He drew a deep breath. “I was a good husband. I provided for my wife. No, I couldn't always be there. I worked long hours and maybe I traveled too much. But all the things I was brought up to believe that a good husband does for his wife and family, I did. And what did I get for my troubles? A wife who cheated and lied…” He shook his head.

“Tenetria and I had been changing since college—but no matter. I was good…and faithful. I didn't deserve what she did to me.” He grinded his teeth and got lost in his painful memories. After a long silence, he said, “She should have come to me. It would have been better just to ask me for the divorce.

“When I discovered them…something broke in me. That kind of betrayal…I don't think it's something that I can ever get over. I don't ever want to be in that position again—to be that vulnerable.” Their eyes met again. “You know, when you get married you hand over this power that you pray your partner will never use against you. You hand over your heart. You promise to love, cherish, and…I dunno.”

Nitara lowered her gaze. She knew that Keenan had been holding back these past few years, but she didn't know just how deeply her sister had hurt him.

“I'm sorry,” he said. “I got all sentimental on you.”

“No. It's okay. I'm glad you shared this with me.” Nitara wiped a tear from the corner of her eye. No way was she going to use this recording for their show. “I'm sorry my sister hurt you.”

“There's nothing for you to be sorry for,” he assured her. “I'm a big boy. I can take care of myself.”

Nitara nodded, but she was still curious about one thing. “So you don't think that you'll ever fall in love again?”

Keenan fell silent for so long that Nitara thought that he wasn't going to answer the question. Finally he said, “Not if I can help it.”

A
s much as Jalila had hated surfing, she discovered that she hated golf even more. Somehow Tion got in his mind that taking a woman out to an eighteen-hole golf course was a romantic thing to do. When he showed up saying they were going to sink a few holes, Jalila thought that he meant miniature golf—a cute game with funny, goofy sets. But standing in the middle of a boring green gold course, chasing a little white ball around was not her idea of a fun date.

Tion, bless his heart, clearly thought that he'd hit a dating home run. His love of all things political was at first a turn-on or at least rather intriguing. But the man could go on for hours, arguing in circles about any subject having to do with politics. Two hours into her date, Jalila wanted to beg the cameraman or
the director for a pair of toothpicks to help prop open her eyelids. It was a shame because Tion really was good-looking.

They showed up at the golf club, where plenty of members stared at them, wondering who these people with a whole camera crew following them around were. Before going out to the green, Tion suggested that they stop at the bar and order some drinks.

Jalila smiled and figured why not. At the bar, she ordered a wine cooler while Tion ordered a double shot of brandy, a surprising choice since it was just past noon. When their drinks arrived, Tion turned on his stool toward her and smiled.

“I sure hope that you have a good time today.”

“Well, I've already warned you that I've never played golf before so I hope you're patient.”

“Aw. Don't worry about it. It's just a game. You're going to be just fine.” A sly smile slid across his face as he stared at her—first at her lips and then slowly his eyes lifted to meet her gaze.

She smiled back, wanting to be polite. The truth of the matter was that after her second night with Keenan, she couldn't conjure up so much as an ember of the spark that she'd felt for Tion the night of the party. In fact, she felt guilty for even being out on this date.

Tion smiled and leaned forward. He was so close that when he spoke, his warm breath drifted across her cheek. “You look so hot in that outfit.”

She glanced down at her mid-thigh pink shorts and white cotton T-shirt. Pretty basic.

“You probably didn't know, but I'm a leg man.”

Jalila had a horrible sense of déjà vu. “That's a leg man and not a foot man, right?”

He shrugged. “Feet are all right, but the legs are where it's at.”

Jalila tried not to laugh at his weak game.

For twenty minutes, while they nursed their drinks, Tion rambled on about all the celebrities and politicians he'd played golf with over the years. If the namedropping was meant to impress her, it didn't.

After drinks and renting a set of clubs for Jalila, the two of them finally headed out to the green. Tion grabbed her hand and held it. The director insisted that they take some B-roll footage of them walking and pointing at innocuous things like squirrels or trees. It was meant to help set the mood.

Jalila wondered if after the show she would feel strange not having a full camera crew following her around. At the first tee, Tion instructed her to take a few swings to see what her natural “stroke” was like—a cheesy joke that fell flat.

Jalila had no idea what she was doing and her first couple of swings looked more like she was trying to take a whack at a T-ball instead of a golf ball.

“Oh, no, no, no,” Tion said. “It's all in your hips. Let me show you.” He moved up behind her, pressed his body close and then wrapped his arms around her. “What you want to do is place your hand on the
shaft
, like this.”

Jalila was suddenly hip to the game. This political nerd apparently had a few playa moves. Still, she felt…nothing.

No spark.

No chemistry.

Nothing.

 

Sidebar, camera one:

Sidebar, camera two:

Sidebar, camera one:

Sidebar, camera two:

At least the second part of their date was better. Tion escorted Jalila to her favorite Italian restaurant, Cicada, in downtown Los Angeles. The conversation over dinner of course involved more politics—which by this point was short-circuiting her brain. Still, there was an adorable sweetness about Tion. He was clearly not for her, though she suspected that he thought otherwise.

Whenever Jalila tried to bring the conversation back to her or anything that had to do with her life, it always ended up right back to the fascinating drama between the Democrats and the Republicans. She
loved
President Obama, but if this man said his name one more time, she was going to scream.

After dinner, Tion suggested that they go to his place where they could take a little dip in his Jacuzzi. It was a tempting offer until she remembered the hickies Keenan had planted all over her back.

The director and the camera crew liked the idea, mainly, Jalila suspected, because they wanted to get her back into a bathing suit. “I think I'm going to have to take a rain check,” she said, smiling at Tion and a team of disappointed faces. “That golfing…really wore me out.”

“Okay.” He bobbed his head, clearly disappointed. “Not a problem.”

When they returned to her place, there was a big deal with lighting. She and Tion had to say their goodnights an astonishing fifteen times before the director was satisfied with the take. The perils of reality dating.

Exhausted, Jalila stomped her way to the backyard to feed Cujo and let him into house. However, Cujo wasn't alone. There were two Great Danes in her backyard. She would have been alarmed if Cujo didn't look so happy with the arrangement. She was confused, but then something tickled her memory.

Turning, she raced up the stairs and into her bedroom. When she burst into the room she found Keenan, fully dressed and stretched out on the bed with his hands folded behind his head.

“What are you doing here?”

“Waiting for you. I told you I'd be here at eleven o'clock.” He stood up from the bed and walked toward her. He took her hand in his and kissed them. “How was your date?”

“It was, uhm…boring.”

“Glad to hear it.”

She smiled and shook her head. “How did you get in here?”

“The same way I left—through the window.” He laughed and then kissed the tip of her nose. “So I was thinking.”

“About?” She laced her arms around his neck.

“About how we have yet to go out on a date.”

Jalila arched a brow at him.

“So why don't you change out of those clothes and I take you out on the town?”

“Two dates in one day?”

“Yeah, but the first one don't count since you were supposed be having a lousy time. And—” he wrapped an arm around her waist so that she could feel just how excited he was to see her “—it wasn't with me.” This time he leaned in for a long and deep kiss.

Jalila moaned.

“Of course we can always stay in, too,” he amended.

“No. I think I'm going to take you up on this.” She kissed
his
nose. “Give me five minutes.” She peeled herself out of his arms.

“Five minutes.” Keenan glanced down at his watch. “I'll be waiting.”

 

One thing Jalila loved to do was dance. She had casually mentioned this to Keenan on Cujo's birthday and she was happy that he'd remembered. As a child and teenager, she had spent years in everything from ballet to jazz and even hip-hop lessons. But tonight, it was salsa.

The Rumba Room was perhaps the hottest salsa club in Los Angeles. Salsa was like lust set to music. There was something about the rhythm that really got into Jalila's soul. Suddenly her arms and hips had minds of their own and would get her to move in ways that were equally erotic and hypnotic.

Soon she was kicking and spinning like a top. All the while Keenan was there to hold and guide her.

“You're a good dancer,” she panted.

“You're not so bad yourself,” he said, taking her and spinning her around again.

Jalila's own salsa instructor had always said that salsa is performed to reveal one's steaming passion and desire. Jalila and Keenan's performance mirrored the way they made love: spicy, hot, sweat pouring down their bodies.

All in all, they were having the time of their lives.

After a couple of hours, the couple couldn't wait to make it back to Jalila's place. Since the club was closer to Keenan's, that's where they went. Once his palatial home had had the power to awe Jalila, but tonight all she cared about was making it to his bed.

 

Outside, someone in another car sat watching as Jalila and Keenan arrived at the Beverly Hills mansion. Nitara held her personal camcorder capturing the image of her business partner as he carried Jalila from his car into the house. After watching them go from Jalila's house to the Rumba Room and now here, Nitara felt confident that this
was
more than a fling for Keenan. He just didn't know it.

“Aaaannnddd
cut
,” she whispered, lowering the camera.