Taking Jana (Paradise South #2) (23 page)

CHAPTER 36

S
he looked more
beautiful than he could have imagined, tastier than he knew she could. And he’d seen her everything, her velvety slit, her glistening tits sliding down cold metal poles, tassels on her red, delicious nipples, her smooth, tight ass cheeks divided splendidly by a
barely-there
thong. But tonight the difference was that she was his and his alone, and he’d be able to peel off the dress he’d gotten her as slowly and methodically as he wanted.

He even got her an
open-back
halter and pretended to have forgotten the correct bra so she’d have to go braless, her delectable nipples pebbling through the satin fabric, making his cock
steel-hard
. He wanted the goddamn show over before it had even started so he could get them heading to the real performance of the night.

But he knew he needed the time, the hours, the show’s calming distraction, and the drinks. He went to get them both glasses of champagne the second they entered the hall.

And did she ever get looks; envious eyes from the women and hungry stares from the men. But again, she was his tonight. And tonight he’d have her. Yes, he’d thought that maybe he could wait weeks, but he’d been wrong. No chance, not with her so hot and so close.

He’d expedited his plans.

First he’d use the tip of his thirsting tongue to circle her sweet cherry nipples in the limo…if he could get enough champagne in her by then. If not, then at his place or at the studio. It hardly mattered as long as he got his piece.

But the limo, that image held a special something for him. And the sudden thought of that fucker, Tony, watching and wishing he were in Johnnie’s shoes made him absolutely giddy. Yeah, that was the special something. He’d make sure the partition was down, cab lights on so Tony could see it all.

Except if she wanted a more intimate experience with him, in which case, he’d let the partition be up, but would make her come so damn hard and loud that Tony would feel the pleasure he was missing in his fucking ears. Her moans, “Oh, Johnnie, fuck me. Yes, Johnnie, yes,” would echo in that smug bastard’s head forever. That’s what Tony would get for
talking-up
his conquest on Johnnie Demonte’s dime.

“Thank you,” she said, taking the tall stem between her slender little fingers.

“Cheers.” He clinked his glass to hers. “To an amazing show we won’t soon forget.”

“Jana? Jana Park? Well, hello there!” A shorter man in a tux with a slightly crooked bowtie came over to them, Johnnie already pulling Jana in as a natural reflex.

“Doctor Brighton—”

“In
and
out of the hospital, please, do call me Andrew.”

“So good to see you,
Andrew
.”

A quick shot of unease ran up his spine with her use of the doctor’s first name. It rang in his ears. Had she slept with him?
In and out of the hospital?
Had she called his name out over and over, the
little-man
doctor’s tiny prick doing nothing for her tight silken cunt? He could take her blushing cheeks and the bashful upturn of her luscious lips as confirmation of his suspicion. But maybe not. Either way,
fuck those
god-complex
piece-of
-shit doctors.
One-upping
everyone else. Johnnie needed to move this reunion
the-fuck
-on. He didn’t even want an intro.

“You too. Seems like we keep missing each other when I’m in to see your dad. You’ve been busy, yes?”

Johnnie watched Jana sigh and search for words, hopefully quick words so he could get her seated and comfortable with another glass of alcohol before the curtains lifted.

“Yeah, I have been. Just trying to, you know, make ends meet. Oh, I’m so sorry, this is my friend, Johnnie, Johnnie Demonte. Johnnie, this is my dad’s cardiologist, Doctor Andrew Brighton. He saved my father’s life.”

Johnnie smiled politely and gave him his firmest handshake. Really fucking firm. “Thanks for taking such good care of my girl’s father, doc. Really, thanks.”

He ignored Jana’s sidelong look and kept his wide phony smile spread across his face. It didn’t matter that she wasn’t his girl per se, even though she would be, because to this pompous asshole with a medical degree, she needed to be considered ‘taken,’ unequivocally ‘off the market.’ The good doctor needed to know her status and step off.

He felt her attention shift from him back to the good doctor. “Really good to see you again, Andrew, and enjoy your evening.”

Good.
She seemed as eager to move on as he was. She took a few steps in front of him, toward their seats, and then stopped short.

“Johnnie?” she asked, tilting her gorgeous head at him. “Why’d you refer to me as your girl? Not on a date, right? Just keeping each other company, yes? As friends.” Brows lifted.

“Of course, but after going over last weekend’s numbers in greater detail with my father today, you sure as hell are ‘my girl.’ Jana, Saturday night was double—double!—what Friday night was. And seventy percent better than the Saturday night over the year prior! You are pure magic, Jana, and I’d be proud to claim you to anyone who asked.”

“That’s amazing. Really…the numbers…” she said, taking a larger sip of champagne. “I’m happy that our business relationship is having such good results for the club.”

She smiled and took another long drink from her glass as she walked toward their theater seats. He followed close behind her, but with just enough space to maintain his view of her glorious ass draped perfectly by the snug and glistening satin material of the dress he’d handpicked for her. It made him shake his head in disbelief. Where had this magnificent creature come from? And how did he get so damn lucky to have her
re-enter
his world?

*

She was mortified. And she felt horrible for Andrew. Had he even brought a date? She didn’t notice any signs of one. Then to run into her! God, he must think her a total bitch, a horrid superficial bitch. “No distractions,” she’d told him when he’d asked her out, and “I need to focus on my father,” she’d explained. And here she is, out at a show. With a man who claims to be her significant other. Her polite letdown, spoken with true words and intentions, had been obliterated. She shouldn’t have said yes to come tonight in the first place. Dammit! She should have said ‘no’ to the dress, ‘no’ to
Johnnie-goddamn
-Demonte, and maybe even ‘no’ to the entire deal in the first place.

But as she thought that thought, her eyes watched Johnnie take from his wallet a folded check. It read fifteen thousand dollars on the visible half. She felt her shoulders loosen but, God, the look of arrogance in his face made her stomach turn. She watched as he slid the check into the new Dorna Walter purse he’d gotten her, another little item she didn’t want hanging over her head as she knew it probably cost him more than the theater tickets themselves. Always the money. The ball and chain, no, the prison. She couldn’t goddamn wait for the end of her contract, God help her, when she’d leave the purse, the dress, and even the black shoes that she’d bought herself, at the apartment. With his key.

But this is three hours.
How was she going to make it
two-plus
months?

He nodded at her and smiled with his eyes.

Fuck you, Johnnie.
“Thank you, Johnnie.”

“Oh, you’re so welcome. You’ve earned it.”

*

The lights dimmed, the show was starting.
Thank
God.

But his head didn’t turn toward the stage. He kept his creepy gaze on her.

Please let the champagne kick in
. At least, with a good buzz, she could ignore him and his ogling stare, his creepy vibe.

And while she watched the show and endured the awkwardness, she hoped Antonio was listening to the playlist she’d made him. Thanks to Laynie and her laptop, she synched all her favorites to the little music device Antonio had lent her. It was Jana’s apology for the way she’d acted–like a damn child, a silly stupid little girl. The last person on Earth to deserve her wrath or her silent treatment was Antonio.

She could fix this. She’d been embarrassed and emotional, that was all. She’d had too much to drink the other night, two beers for her small build left her
well-beyond
buzzed, especially with how seldom she drank.

But Antonio had stopped her kiss. He hadn’t taken advantage of her and he could have. And from the vibe he’d been putting out, it wasn’t from of lack of interest. The looks they’d shared, the
flirty-free
conversations––the way deeper ones too––and the general unspoken connection between them while driving together in the front seat of his limousine. That was all real. He’d wanted to kiss her back, she knew it in her gut. He’d wanted to kiss her plenty of times before she made the upward leap.

An independent rush of icy warmth took her throat and face. Embarrassment with a spike of a chill at the finish from a solitary and suddenly disappointing thought. If she was wrong, if he had no interest in her in that way, well…still, he’d been a gentleman. A friend. A man, a fine, sweet man who’d only been good to her, really kind. Really
there
.

Damn him, though, with his understated virility and his ‘tall, dark and sensual’ mixed with sweetness and strength. He drove her wild and kept her grounded at the same time. Antonio made her realize, after so long, that she’d wasted precious time. She’d not allowed herself any pleasure or joy for herself. Finally, it took him, a limo driver slash martial arts master, to open her eyes. And her eyes were open to
him
.

But he’d pushed her away when she’d made her move, albeit rash and steeped in
slightly-drunken
desperation. But from him, no explanation. Not at the time or after the fact. No call, no text, no visit. Just nothing.

He had told her when she’d found Jocelyn Carlson’s used souvenir that he’d since committed to putting his pride before all else. Second to nothing and no one. Jana had stomped on his pride for turning her down, treated him like an unruly chauffeur. Acted like…like…that rich bitch client Jocelyn Carlson. So what did she expect at this point? It made no difference if he had a spark for her like she now knew she had for him. It made no difference at all.

She shook her head and held back the threatening tears while a wisp of a laugh left her mouth. Really how little it mattered, because, in months from now, Antonio would finally be back in his precious seaside town in Mexico while she’d be back in her city, in her prestigious ER, in her rightful role as lead Trauma Team member. Nurse extraordinaire, and all alone.

Alone.
She somehow dreaded the mental picture of her lonely future.

But as her boss leaned over the arm of the plush theater seat into her personal space and took a
not-so
-subtle sniff of her hair, she prayed to God for immediate solitude. She dug up a polite smile for Johnnie Demonte as the curtain drew open and the performance began.

*

Intermission. After downing another glass of champagne he’d handed her, awkward chatter spotted by Johnnie’s own brand of sexual innuendo filled their airspace. She could hardly focus on Johnnie’s swooning words, though. Was she on her fourth or fifth glass of champagne? She’d lost count. But as the second half of the performance began, she surrendered into her seat.

The theatrical performance on stage told a captivating story, really: Boy meets and gets girl, girl leaves, boy settles for another, then girl returns, and passion trumps all when they reunite. Jana’s tears began to collect, but she held them back.
Not in front of Johnnie.
He was on his umpteenth glass of champagne as well, with assuredly looser hands now, and she just didn’t want him attending to her…at all. If he saw her crying, she could picture him wiping her tears away from her face one by one, and the thought of his touch gave her the chills, and not in a good way.

He was young, that was all. Johnnie Demonte had an innocent crush on her––okay, an infatuation. All she had to do was limit
one-on
-one time like tonight’s
mistake-of
-an outing, and keep reminding him of her lines. She’d manage his ‘thing’ for her with kid gloves. And she was okay doing that, as if she had a choice.

Because she still had to help her parents.

Yes, despite the
heart-wrenching
,
blood-curdling
knowledge that those bank statements had given her, she still had to help them. She still had to rake in this money, and she’d still have to manage her boss to do it for nine and a half more weeks.

CHAPTER 37

I
n a blink,
it was over. The curtains closed. She startled when his hand brushed her arm to say it was time to leave. She could’ve lingered there just to digest the ending of the performance, but he was already standing, hand extended to help her up. Denying his hand, she stood, but a wave of lightheadedness from the champagne made her stumble and blush. Johnnie caught her elbow, though, and got her steady on her
five-inch
spike heels.

“Oh God, thank you. How many glasses did I have, anyway?”

He locked her arm with his. “A few, beautiful, only a few.”

Just a few?
She felt sloshed, worse than two beers, four beers, six beers even.

Through a blur of people and
red-carpeted
stairs, she leveraged Johnnie’s arm for balance and forward movement. God, she hated needing him or anyone for that matter.

It felt like forever to get to the limo.

“Ahh, Antonio,” she said looking up at her handsome guardian angel holding the door for her. She started to say more, but Johnnie was already pushing her head down so she wouldn’t hit it as she entered the limo.

“Antonio, huh?” Johnnie asked her.

“Tony is short for Antonio,” she explained, proud to know it. She thought Johnnie really should call him by his real name too, out of respect. Antonio deserved respect, the utmost. And happiness too. She wanted that for him. So much. God, she hadn’t realized how much she’d missed him over the last few days. She’d really, really missed him.

She leaned forward to the partition. She wanted to ask Antonio if he’d listened to the playlist she’d made him, but Johnnie held her shoulder. “Sit back, Jana.
Antonio
is pulling out now.” He patted the spot next to him, and she slid back, more because of the satin material of her dress slipping over the smooth leather seat than her choosing to sit that close to Johnnie. And his arm around her shoulder, forcing her to lean against him, was far too much, but she had no energy or sense of equilibrium to move.

Then the privacy window started to lift as the limo pulled out into traffic. What was Antonio doing? He knew she needed it left down. Panic filled her chest, made worse by Johnnie, who squeezed her to him, more than skeeving her the hell out. And just as she opened her mouth to say something to someone to stop one or more of the completely unnerving happenings going on around her, the limo stopped short.

She moaned as a sudden wave of nausea tore over her. She clenched her teeth and forced her focus ahead of her, through to the disappearing view of the road ahead. She wouldn’t get sick, not if she could keep her eyes on the road. But now she couldn’t even open her mouth to tell Antonio to please, for the love of his interior upholstery, keep the partition window down. Her words and breath were caught in her throat.

*

He’d prepared himself, planned in his mind how he’d get into the driver’s seat and drive. But the disgust and screaming injustice of Johnnie Demonte anywhere near Jana sent an earthquake through his bones. Her arm in his. Her sweet smile for him. Her light laugh for
Johnnie-fucking
-Demonte.

Antonio sent a mental apology through the ether to her as he brought the opaque divider up. He couldn’t bear sight or sound of them. He just couldn’t.

He buckled his seatbelt, intentionally keeping his eyes from the rearview while the partition lifted. He had started the car, doing everything not to break the starter with how hard he wanted to jam then turn the key.

She was drunk. Johnnie had probably pushed the wine or champagne. And he knew from the other day how her defenses fell with only two beers. She was strong but so small. That fucking cocksucker.

She’s a grown woman. A strong, smart woman.
And she’s not your
woman.

He didn’t have to glance in his rearview to get out of the parking space. He really only needed his side mirror, but his eyes lifted anyway, betraying him. He had to check her state.

As expected, she looked a shade of green, panic in her hazy eyes, leaning on Johnnie Demonte’s shoulder like a rag doll. Who the hell knew where the dickhead’s right hand was? She was pulled so damn close to the fucker that it might have been wrapped around her, under her, goddamn in her for all he knew.

But what the fuck could he do? Again, she was a grown woman. On a date, albeit with this fucker. God, the prick in his backseat was a manipulative son of a bitch. He really pulled off an
award-winning
performance, getting one over on Jana, of all people.

Fuck! He was choking with rage and nausea. He should fucking do something. About what, though? Nothing had happened. She seemed somewhat content back there––not shouting or screaming or contesting.

Anyway, he wasn’t her protector. He was a chauffeur, Johnnie Demonte’s chauffeur. That was all Antonio was to her.

He continued pressing the
auto-up
button of the privacy window, which lifted at its terminally
slow-ass
pace. Once it was up, he’d be free from the back seat scene.

Hell, she’d be fine back there.
Her carsickness may not even be an issue
. Not with Johnnie…distracting her.
Oh
God!

He reached for the mp3 player she’d left him as a big “fuck you” and got ready to
tune-out
and drive.
Just fucking
drive
.

He took a deep breath and pulled out of the parking space. Halfway into the lane, he spotted in his side view mirror a motorcycle shooting by and slammed hard on his brake. He heard a moan from the back seat and glanced up. Jana held a look of intense and desperate focus as she struggled to catch her breath. And incidentally, Johnnie’s hand was up on her opposite shoulder, fingertips playing with the material of her dress, at her neckline.

He released the privacy window button, stopping its upward direction. Then he brought the partition back down for her. He didn’t want her sick or scared, even if it meant torture for him.

He could tune them out. He could. He was trained to tune out, to center, to focus. He began breathing through his nose, deep centering breaths, as he focused his eyes on the road ahead like a sniper on his target. With his free hand, he adjusted the earbuds so they wouldn’t slip out, then he fumbled with the device on his lap to get any music started, any distraction at all to replace his
gut-wrenching
thoughts.

It took a moment for something to cue up.

Then,
Jesus
.

He tore one earbud out and forced his fingers to the side of the device to take down the volume. His eardrums, his chest, his entire body felt the jolt, the hiked volume had hiked his pulse through the moon roof.

Not the distraction he meant.

He breathed deeply.

As the sound of his breath quieted in his skull, he could now make out what music remained piping in his one ear.

A Spanish salsa
beat-based
rhythm?

He got to the red light and looked down at the music player. The playlist was new and not his. ‘Jana’s I’m Sorry Songs’ was the playlist’s name.

Then he felt a kick to the back of his seat, a kick that sent rippling wrath shooting up his spine.

*

He yanked the earbuds out and shot around, glaring at Johnnie Demonte.

“I said it three times, man. Put the partition up!”

“Do not. Kick. My seat. And the divider stays down.”

“Look, asshole, we want privacy, and I want it up. I pay you enough; do what I say. Your seat, your engine, your tires, they’re all
ours
, and you still get paid a shitload extra. Put the fucking—”

“Johnnie!” Jana spat while holding her stomach as if she couldn’t say much more without getting sick everywhere. “I get carsick. It has to stay down. Antonio knows that. Please.”

Then she looked up at Antonio through the rearview. “Could you please…?” She paused with her hand over her mouth. Antonio had a bottle of water at her eye level the next instant. “Oh, thank you.” She opened it and took a small sip as Antonio pulled over and put his hazards on. “Could you get me to the studio?”

“No, my place is only a few blocks away. You’ll stay with me there.”

“Johnnie, no. I want to stay at the…oh God….” She swallowed hard then took another sip of water. “I want to stay at the apartment, alone.”

“Jana. Listen to me, you don’t have to be in a car that long if you just stay with—”

“She said she doesn’t want to stay with you.” Antonio wouldn’t hold back anymore. If Johnnie wanted to stop paying him, if his father wanted to call the loan on his vehicle and on his entire business, so be it. He wasn’t going to let this shit go down, not to Jana. She
was
his business. He cared about her, and there were already too many vultures in her life preying on her. That hell was over.

“Mind your own fucking business, asshole.”

“Get out of my limo. You live so close, go walk there—by yourself. I’m taking Jana to the apartment.”

“It’s my apartment, and you don’t know who the fuck you’re—”

Antonio was out of the car before Johnnie could finish his thought. He opened the back door, grabbed Johnnie Demonte’s arm and yanked him out. “Jana is sick. You’re drunk. Go walk it off.” Antonio followed up by taking a step toward the other man, an up close and personal chest in the face. “Or I’ll tell your father exactly what happened here, and he won’t have a bit of trouble believing me. I can embellish a bit, too. Say the cops had to be called.” Everyone knew Jake Demonte hated the cops. Johnnie’s ass would be torn to next year for bringing heat to Jake’s door.

Johnnie stood as tall as he could, chest out, but was still more than a head shorter than Antonio and obviously only half the muscle mass. Somehow the prick made the wise decision to step back.

“So what happened here?”

Johnnie said nothing, just fumed through his flared nostrils, death stare through
half-lidded
eyes.

“That’s right…nothing. Absolutely nothing. Now go.” Antonio turned back to the opened car door and looked inside. “Would you feel better sitting up front?”

She nodded and started to shimmy out of the car, her hand reaching for his.

“Listen, cocksucker, that’s my date. My employee, my…” Johnnie was apparently still there.

Sitting at the edge of the seat, both heels now on the pavement, Jana looked up at Antonio, desperation in her eyes. She whispered, “I still need the money.”

He gnashed his teeth and felt his left eye flicker as he turned to Johnnie. He hated to say the words, but for her, dammit, he would. “She’s still your employee. She’s just sick, dickhead. Go home. Tomorrow afternoon, after the hospital, I’ll bring her to the club, like usual.”

“Oh no, you won’t. Send someone else. Anyone else but you, motherfucker. Trying to take my girl,” Johnnie said, hailing a cab with one sloppy arm waving in the air.

Antonio ignored the rest of his ranting and helped Jana into the front seat. “Buckle up and hold the handle above you. It’ll help with the queasiness.” Then he drove off, Johnnie Demonte flipping him off in his rearview.