Queen of His Heart (4 page)

He nodded, his gaze still drinking her in.

“You know in some circles that sounds a little lurid.”

Fantasia returned with a stack of hot towels. Keenan watched as Jalila's slender fingers unrolled a couple of the towels.

“Okay. Are you ready to experience what heaven feels like?”

An image of her nude body lying hot and sweaty beneath him flashed in his mind and he blinked in surprise.

Still smiling, Jalila lowered the hot towel over his face. The warm steam instantly loosened the hardened seaweed mask.

Keenan could actually feel his facial muscles again. “Ahhh,” he sighed.

“Feels good, huh?” Her nimble fingers began massaging his skin. “I told you. This is one of my favorite treatments. Trust me. You're going to feel like a million bucks when you walk out of here.”

“Mission accomplished,” he mumbled.

“Is this your first time here, Mr. Armstrong?” she inquired.

“Mmm-hmm.” His eyes drifted closed. “This really does feel divine.”

“Mind if I asked how you heard about us?”

“Online,” he mumbled. Did this woman have magic hands or what?

“Oh. So you visited our Web site?”

He stiffened. “Yeah.” He had visited the Body by Jalila Web site—after watching hours of her YouTube videos—so it wasn't a lie. “Actually, my, uhm, sister sort of told me about you.”

“Ah. Your sister is a client then?” She removed the towel and then stopped and stared at him.

“Not exactly. She's a fan of your YouTube channel.”

Jalila blinked. She hadn't heard a word he'd said once she'd removed his towel and found herself looking at the gorgeous man from Las Brisas the other day. Smooth, even chocolate skin, LL Cool J lips and an adorable cleft chin. She couldn't have chiseled out a better fantasy if she tried. Only—wasn't he like some creepy Hollywood something or another?

When Jalila didn't respond, Keenan took it as his cue to hurry up with his explanation.

“You see, I'm a television producer,” he continued. “The name of my company is A.M. Production—Armstrong-Murphy. Anyway, my business partner and I were interested in doing a reality show this coming season.”

Still silence.

“I know this is…unusual, but after watching your
YouTube videos, I felt that you would be the ideal woman for the show.”

Jalila finally emerged from her stupor. “Show? What show?”

He misunderstood her confusion. “See, uhm, the show would be about us, the producers, helping you find your perfect match. A soul mate.”

“A soul mate?” she parroted, still struggling to connect the dots. But it was hard. It wasn't every day that some outrageously handsome man showed up in her spa to tell her that he wanted to be her fairy godfather and poof—find her a soul mate. As far as she was concerned she would never fantasize about Idris Elba again. True to form, her body was going haywire. Without looking, she knew her nipples were perking up and stretching against her bra and shirt.

However, he wasn't saying that
he
was her soul mate. Only that he wanted to help her find him. This was definitely a blow to her ego.

“Let me get this straight,” she finally said. “You want me to do a reality show?”

“Yes.”

“Because you want to help me find my soul mate?”

“Correct.”

Off to their right, Fantasia and Martina stood listening to their whole conversation. Jalila glanced over at them.

“Do it,” her girls whispered.

“I don't know. TV?”

“Is it any different than YouTube? You're still broadcasting to the entire world.”

She hesitated. He did have a point, and hadn't she tried everything else? Her gaze skimmed over his amazing body.
Well, I haven't tried everything.

“How do I know you're legit?”

He handed her another business card. “Maybe you should look me up on the Web.”

She smiled. “Okay,” she said, drawing a deep breath. “Why not? If you check out, then I'll do it.”

I
t was just a little past noon and Nitara was concerned. Keenan had yet to call into the office, and he'd completely blown his conference call with the ABC executives this morning. After working so hard to get on their schedule, it just wasn't like him not to show or at least to call to say what was up. She told herself to give him another hour. After that, she was going to go all Lojack on him.

This would, of course, screw up her own schedule for the day.

Dee Dee, the company's script reader/receptionist, poked her head into the office. “Got a minute?”

“Sure, come on in.”

Dee Dee pushed her way through the door, carrying a huge stack of telescripts.

“Wow. You did
all
of those already?”

“Yes, ma'am. Coversheet and overview are stapled on top of all of them.”

“Any of them good?” Nitara inquired, wanting to cut to the chase.

Dee Dee scrunched up her face.

“Nuff said.”

“Seems all the writers in this town want to do is a spec script of
The Office
or
Grey's Anatomy
.” Dee Dee glanced around. “Keenan hasn't made it in yet?”

“No. I'm starting to worry about him.”

As if having some sixth sense that he was being talked about, Keenan strode into the office. “Good morning, ladies!”

“It's after noon,” Nitara informed him. “Why the hell are you so happy?”

He shrugged as he plopped into his chair. “Can't a man be happy?”

Nitara and Dee Dee glanced at each other.

“Well, maybe
I
want to be in a good mood, too. How about sharing your secrets?”

“I'm not in a good mood,” he corrected with a faux sternness.

“You're happy but you're not in a good mood,” she said, trying to follow him.

“Right. I'm not in a good mood, I'm in a
great
mood.”

“Oh, really?” Nitara eased back in her chair and crossed her arms.

“Sounds like a woman to me,” Dee Dee said.

Nitara shifted in her chair. “Oooh.”

“It's not a woman,” he said.

“Then what is it?”

“Well, it is a woman—but not in the traditional sense,” Keenan explained.

“What—she used to be a man?”

“Ha!” Dee Dee snorted and then remembered her place. “Ah, sorry.”

“Are you going to spit this out any time soon?” Nitara glanced at her watch. “I have a pretty busy schedule.”

Keenan laughed and propped his heels onto the corner of his desk. “What would you say if I told you I've found the star of our next fall show?”

“I'd ask ‘What fall show?'”

“I've decided that we
will
do a reality show.”

A smile bloomed across Nitara's face. “Ah, you finally saw the light, did you?”

“I guess you can say that. But more important, I found our star.”

“Uh-huh.” Doubt crept into Nitara's face and tone. “Now what kind of reality show are we supposedly doing?”

Keenan popped back out of his chair. “Remember you told me that the best or most-watched reality shows are those about romance—single-man-finds-single-woman kind of shows, right?”

“Right.”

“Except for
The Amazing Race
,” Dee Dee interjected. “I love that show.”

“Well, we're not doing a knockoff of that show. We're going to do a different version of a matchmaking show.”

“It's not going to involve a man wearing a Viking hat, is it?” Nitara asked.

“No.”

“Then I love it already.”

“What I want to do is a sort of
Real World
meets
The Bachelorette
. We're not going to rent a mansion for a few weeks and have the couple do these big corporate-sponsored dates that end after the show's finished taping. What you have there is people falling in love with a mirage.”

Nitara and Dee Dee nodded in agreement.

“What
we'll
do is have one big party of say twenty-five male candidates vying for the chance to date one woman. She'll work the room and then narrow it down to three candidates. From there we follow the bachelorette around in her real-world habitat. Meet her friends, her family. Same for the men. We see where they're coming from. But the whole dating process is totally on the guys. They plan the dates, they spend their money. This gives them and the audience a chance to see the real people and not a script. At the end of the show, the woman will pick one of the men she'd like to continue dating.”

“Or marry,” Dee Dee said. “You can't have a show like this and not have a ring at the end. Women tune in for the ring.”

Keenan glanced at Nitara. “I agree with Dee Dee. There needs to be a ring at the end.”

“We'll leave that up to the men.” His gaze bounced between the women. “So—what do you think?”

The women looked at each other, nodded their heads and then finally Nitara spoke. “I like it.”

“What are you going to call the show?” Dee Dee asked.

Keenan paused as he thought about Jalila. Parts of him responded instantly. “How about
Queen of Hearts?
”

“Sounds like a poker show,” Nitara quipped.

Dee Dee shrugged. “I kind of like it.”

“That makes it two against one.” Keenan cocked a smile at his partner.

“Whatever.” Nitara tossed up her hands. “Now tell me about our ‘star.'” She noticed how Keenan's face lit up.

“I can't wait for you to meet her,” he practically gushed. “The camera is going to love her. She's perfect!”

“Perfect?” Nitara found his choice of words interesting.

“Yeah,” he continued, pacing the office. “She's beautiful, funny and charming. There're going to be fan clubs popping up everywhere.”

“Sounds to me like she already has her first fan.” Nitara braided her fingers. “Where exactly did you meet Ms. Perfect?”

“Technically I met her this morning,” Keenan confessed. “But Keisha turned me on to her YouTube page.”

This time Nitara sprang out of her chair. “Come again?”

“I know. I know. But let me explain. I was talking to Keisha last night and somehow we ended up talking about her trials and tribulations in trying to navigate the L.A. dating scene—”

“Hell, I have a few horror stories myself,” Dee Dee chirped.

Keenan chuckled. “Anyway, at some point she started telling me about Jalila's YouTube channel that she subscribes to.”

“I take it that Jalila is this star?”

“Right.” He stopped pacing and leaned back against his desk. “So anyway, she—Keisha—was telling me how much she related to Jalila's vlogs. Of course, you know Keisha, she practically guilt-tripped me into checking out the channel myself. So I did. And I was hooked. She was engaging, charming and—”

“Beautiful,” Nitara filled in. “Yeah. I get the picture.”

“I was about to say funny. Oh, and let's not forget her dog, Cujo.”

“She named her dog after a rabid, terrorizing Saint Bernard?”

“We both love horror movies.” He gave Nitara the thumbs-up.

But you're not going to be one of the bachelors
, Nitara wanted to say. “So you skipped out of your conference call with ABC this morning to go meet this ‘star'?”

“ABC!” Keenan slapped his palm against his forehead. “I forgot.”

“Clearly.”

“Don't worry. I'll call them.” He walked around his desk. “In fact, I'm going to work a treatment for the show.”

Nitara watched her business partner, amazed at the change she saw in him. There was something more to this than met the eye.

 

“What do you mean that you're going to find a man on television?” James Goodwyn asked, staring at his daughter.

“Please say that you're not going on that show
Blind Date
,” Jalila's mother chimed in. “I know Sister Mabel watches that every week. She's convinced everybody that goes on that show is going straight to hell.”

“No, Momma. I'm not going on
Blind Date
.” Jalila laughed and took a bite of her mother's signature meatloaf. Dinner at her parents' was a Monday-night tradition. It was the only time Jalila could carve out so they could play catch-up with what was going on in their lives. Her parents weren't pleased with this latest bit of news.

“What exactly are you going to be doing on TV?” her father asked. “Do you keep your clothes on?”

“What?” Jalila almost choked. “Of course I'm keeping my clothes on.” Well, she hadn't exactly run that particular question by Mr. Armstrong. Actually, she had asked him hardly any questions.

“Well, as long as you keep your clothes on,” her father said. “Hey, pass me the cornbread.”

Jalila reached over and handed him the basket of cornbread muffins.

“Wait a minute. Wait a minute,” her mom said. “I have a few more questions. Who all is going to be watching this?”

Jalila shrugged. “I guess anyone who wants to tune in.”

“What channel is it going to be on?”

“I don't know, Mom.” She laughed. “Far as I know, it's all in its beginning stages.” That answer only made her mother's face go sour even more.

“I don't know if I like this dating-on-TV stuff. How come you can't find dates the old-fashion way—church or some social dance somewhere?”

“Social dances are clubs and there's nothing but losers there. I've tried churches and all the good men are already married and the ones that aren't are looking for a second mother.”

“I still don't like it.”

Jalila took her mother's hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze. “Don't worry, Mom. Everything is going to be fine. In fact, I think it might even be fun. Heck, I've tried everything else at this point.”

“As beautiful as you are? I don't understand why it's so hard for you to get a date.”

“I can get dates,” Jalila corrected. “I just can't seem to get them with any quality men. Please don't worry. I'm not going to do anything that's going to embarrass the family.”

“It may be out of your hands. I've heard stories of how television producers like to cut and paste things to make them look more scandalous than they really are.”

“Mr. Armstrong wouldn't do that.”

“How do you know?” she challenged.

She didn't know. “He just didn't strike me as that kind of man.”

“No offense, baby girl,” her father said, catching her eye. “But if he's part of that crazy Hollywood crowd,
I wouldn't trust him any further than you can throw him.”

That was food for thought.

“Plus,” her mother continued. “Has anyone ever gone on to get married on one of those shows? Or is it just that—a show?”

“I believe there was one.”

“One?” Her mother laughed. “One out of how many? C'mon, Jalila. If you like those odds then you might as well keep doing what you been doing.”

Jalila's spirits started to plummet.

Her father came to the rescue. “Now, Bettye. If this is something that Jalila wants to do, then I think we should support her.”

Bettye Goodwyn didn't respond.

This whole scene had Jalila feeling like a ten-year-old trying to get her parents' permission to go on a school field trip.

 

By the time Jalila returned home from her parents', she had all but convinced herself to back out of the television show. It wasn't like she had signed a contract or anything. How hard would it be to find another woman to take her place?

Still, it would have been fun.

Cujo barked excitedly as she entered the door.

“Hey, boy,” she cooed, patting his broad side. “Have you been a good boy?”

Woof! Woof!
He ran around in a tight circle.

“C'mon. Let me get you something to eat.” As she marched toward the kitchen, her mind wandered to
how she was going to tell Mr. Armstrong that she needed to back out of the show.

She scooped dog food into Cujo's bowl and then washed her hands at the sink. The phone rang, and Jalila picked up the cordless without looking at the caller ID. “Hello.”

“Ms. Goodwyn?”