This was comfortable... This was perfect — an excellent way to spend an evening. After his shower, JC and Francesca had eaten the eclectic room service order while lounging on the bed in the terrycloth robes provided by the hotel. They chatted about their day and his parents. Often they would offer each other nibbles off their plates. Sex wasn’t mentioned. JC sure as hell wasn’t burned out on it, but allowing the physical aspect of their budding relationship to stay in the background gave him hope for the future.
After their meal Francesca put pillows against the headboard and leaned back. JC now rested between her legs, his head resting on her breasts, her arms draped over his shoulders. Once in a while he’d press his mouth to her inner wrist or send his hand down her leg in a gesture of connectedness. The companionable feeling made him want to savor the moment forever.
“The ‘Pussy Master’ shirt definitely needs to go,” Francesca announced out of the blue. She had learned of the shirt when one of his older fans told her of a time when she feared JC was on a self-destructive tear, partying far too much.
Startled, JC chuckled uncomfortably. “What the fuck?...”
“This ‘pussy’ doesn’t care for the idea of being ‘mastered’, you braggart.”
“Damn, baby, do you know everything now?”
She grinned impishly. “Mmm-hmm… Even you rather dickless devotion to a skank actress.”
“Francesca!” he protested.
“And I’m having a real hard time imagining you as a surfer dude with long hair and an unintelligible lingo who hid the fact he was deep and smart.”
“Christ...” he grumbled. “Did I get any positive press?” Her encounter with his fans had given her way too much embarrassing information obviously.
“Of course you did. They love you, JC. They are proud of you; some of them can also be very nearly motherly. They worry and they see your shortcomings.”
“You weren’t supposed to know I had any.”
“Pull-eeze,” she snorted.
“Does it change the way you see me?”
“Yes.”
When she didn’t elaborate he tilted his head back to meet her eyes. “Well?”
“I think a man who can inspire that sort of sustained affection from perfect strangers has to be something special.”
That sounded good, positive. “You’re something special, Gypsy.”
“Yeah. I know.” She dropped a teasing kiss on his lips.
With a satisfied smile, JC returned to his previous position.
“About tonight... How long are we staying out?”
“I figure if we get there at a decent time — say nine or so — we don’t have to stay all night. We could be out by midnight.” Then he would have to make love to her enough to convince her they had a shot at something beyond Sunday. Or maybe she asked because she did not want to go. “I suppose you could stay here...”
“You don’t want me there?”
“I do want you there, but if you’d rather not...”
“Whatever would I do here while you were gone?”
“Sleep?”
“Highly overrated.” Actually she had another idea. A crazy idea that wouldn’t have occurred to her the night before when he had been a total stranger. Today she had more insight into the man he was.
You can judge a man by the way he treats his parents, JC had an openly affectionate, respectful relationship with the Chasezes. She could tell Karen had not been an overly indulgent mother. She had been firm, loving and encouraging. JC looked up to Roy still, some hero-worship remained. The second there had been a perceived threat, he had sent his father, not security, to Francesca’s rescue. In the future, JC would most likely be the sort of parent he’d had. His kids would be fortunate.
“JC, instead of coming back here, we could maybe go to my place...” There. She had said the unimaginable.
Seconds ticked by in silence as the couple examined the ramification of such an offer. For Francesca it meant she trusted JC — and she wanted to escape the scrutiny of his fans and security. For JC it felt as if she was letting him into her life. Whether she realized it or not she was willing to consider him more than a weekend fling. She had not needed to let him know where she could be found.
“Are you sure you want to do that, Francesca?” he felt compelled to ask.
Did she? Even she didn’t have an answer. “Do you?”
“It’d be great.”
“Then we’ll plan on it. As long as your driver can make certain we aren’t followed.” She didn’t want her loft to become ground zero for JC stalkers Sunday morning.
“I can promise you that.”
“I’ll pack up my things before we leave.”
“‘K — and don’t forget the condoms,” he reminded her tauntingly.
“If I do your driver is going to have to find a twenty-four hour drugstore,” she quipped.
“Not cool. So what do I need to take?”
“Just you fine self. I’ll even provide a toothbrush.”
With a happy sigh, JC snuggled back against her and closed his eyes. This was a very good turn of events. Very good.
JC sighed inwardly with pleasure when Francesca came from the bathroom and pronounced herself ready for the evening. Perhaps she would never be considered a classic beauty — her pouty lips were too full and ripe, her dark hazel eyes were a bit too wide and large in her heart-shaped face — but she was stunning to him, more than beautiful. Her thick eyelashes were heavily mascaraed, making them sweeping fans that tangled in her long bangs. Her lips were plump and delicious-looking, colored in scarlet. Her curvy little body was encased in a bright red mini dress with a flirty skirt ruffled at mid-thigh. The light fabric floated with every step she took. And her hair... she wore her luxurious hair down. He knew for a fact she had left it down for him this time.
“I don’t know...” he murmured appreciatively.
She frowned. Wasn’t she dressed appropriately? He was in a teeshirt... “Know what?”
“You’re too fucking beautiful. I don’t know if I want to take you anywhere.”
“Let me get this straight... You are considering leaving me here because I clean up good?”
Shaking his head, he smoothed his hands down her hair. “No, baby. We will go. I’ll just have to watch that you won’t want to trade-up.”
“Trade-up?” Hadn’t she heard a couple women had done just that to him? He had been their springboard to bigger and better. “Not this girl. I’m not made that way. I was raised better.”
“I didn’t really think you would, baby. But you are walking hotness.”
“And all yours,” she assured him. “For tonight.”
‘No!’ he wanted to shout. ‘Don’t put that qualifiers on it!’ He nuzzled her hair. “All mine,” he purred.
Le Passage was dark, crowded, and noisy. JC kept Francesca hand firmly in his as he moved through the throng of bodies. He referred to her as ‘Gypsy’, ‘sweetheart’ or ‘baby’, trying to preserve anonymity as much as possible. Since he had been so down low about his recent personal life, people assumed she was someone he had been seeing for a time. The fact that Roy and Karen Chasez greeted her warmly only added to the myth.
“Will you be joining us for brunch tomorrow?” Karen asked Francesca when JC had relinquished her into the care of his parents to fetch her a drink.
“Me?” The question clearly surprised Francesca.
“I thought since you and Josh were together this weekend...”
“It would be unspeakly rude of me to assume an invitation based on that. No, tomorrow he is solo — at least from me.”
“We would love to have you.”
The young woman shook her head. No, the next day she would reclaim her normal life the moment JC Chasez left her apartment. “Thank you, no.”
“Francesca, he seems to care a great deal for you—”
JC’s return halted the conversation. “I know you don’t normally drink,” he said as he handed Francesca champagne flute. “Thanks for agreeing to one glass.”
Drinking recreationally held no appeal for Francesca. A rare glass of wine with dinner or a celebratory glass of champagne for special occasion she understood; getting drunk she did not. Her friends believed her an odd duck; but since she didn’t lecture them on the evils of alcohol, they accepted the quirk. “I think it is warranted. I understand your team rarely wins.”
JC chuckled. “Because I suck.”
“Hardly. You’re just one player.”
“J usually plays much better.”
Wrinkling her cute nose at the mention of Timberlake, she made no comment.
Karen began. “I invited Francesca for brunch—”
JC beamed happily. “Cool!”
“But she said no.”
Damn! “Aww... Sweetheart, why not?”
Taking a sip of champagne, Francesca merely eyed him, telling him silently he knew exactly why not.
“If you change your mind, dear, the invitation is open,” Karen said in parting.
“Thank you, Missus Chasez.”
“I wish you’d reconsider, Gypsy,” JC said once his mother was out of earshot.
“No.”
Wisely he let the subject drop.
“Well, if it isn’t the Mouth.”
Francesca glanced over her shoulder to see Justin Timberlake. She ignored him
“For a little thing you got a set of lungs on you.”
She flicked him a dismissive look. “You still there?”
“A little bitch, eh?”
It was all JC needed to hear to make his hackles rise. “Hey, now! Gypsy was there to support me. I’ll thank you—”
Francesca did not want to be the cause of a rift between longtime friends. “Timberlake, I don’t have to like you and you don’t have to like me. Your opinion of me means less than zero and it won’t keep me up nights. But JC is a mutual friend. Shut-up.” She said the last two syllables as if Justin’s was slow-witted.
With a growl the unwanted man left.
“I won’t have him calling you names,” JC protested.
“I’m hardly worth losing a friendship over, JC.”
“But, baby—”
She reached up to brush her lips to his. “It’s over and done.”
True to his word JC had them leaving Le Passage at midnight. It threw would-be followers off the scent when it appeared Francesca luggage in hand seemed to be heading home while JC’s parents left at the same time and JC had no bags. Just to be certain the driver got on the expressway to shake any tails. JC was mildly surprised when they headed back toward the hotel. He believed Francesca had given the driver her address.
“Francesca?”
“I live downtown. I renovated the building and kept one of the lofts for myself.”
“Cool.”
“It’s great. I have my office in the building and it’s close to everything.”
“Including Syn,” he said of the club where they had met.
“Uh-huh...”
The sultry tone of her voice sent hot shivers of arousal through him.
Moments later the driver stopped in front of a well-lit building housing exclusive little shops and offices.
“Here we are,” Francesca announced as she grabbed her bags and hopped out.
JC followed, protesting. “Let me get those.” He took the garment bag though she didn’t relinquish the overnighter.
“I have brothers. I’m not used to chivalry,” she explained laughingly as they entered the wide glass door mind by a security guard/doorman.
“Good evening, Miss Carlisle,” the middle-aged man in uniform said.
“I think you need to check your watch, Mister Butler,” Francesca teased affectionately. “The evening is long gone.”
The balding man chuckled. “So it is. I had Missus Butler take your package upstairs as you requested. She said she set it on the side table in the foyer.”
“Thank you both. I’m in for the night.”
“Very good. You and your young man have a good night.”
“Thank you, I hope you have an uneventful one.” With that Francesca led the way to the elevators.
“Mister Butler and his wife are sort of the caretakers of the building. He does security and an odd job here and there. Miss Butler does small errands and makes a mean chocolate chip cookie. In exchange they have a small apartment in the building and a stipend. It supplements their retirement funds,” she explained. “They add a friendly presence.”
Somehow JC read between the lines. Francesca was helping the older couple make ends meet by providing them a place to live. He liked that.
During the ride up, he tugged her against, nuzzling her affectionately. He was about to enter her home. He still couldn’t believe it...
At floor twenty she pronounced them ‘here’. She punched numbers in a keypad and the industrial door slid open to reveal a large living space. One side was a wall of windows overlooking the Chicago night. The living-entertainment area flowed into a dining area that flowed into a spacious modem kitchen.
“You cook?” JC asked.
“Why yes I do. It’s a hobby. You?”
“Let’s put it this way... I play basketball better than I cook,” he confessed ruefully.
“Eeeh-gads! That’s terrible.”
“Terrible is about the best way to describe my cooking talents. I can manage Poptarts. Everything else is beyond me.”
“I take it you aren’t cooking breakfast.”
“You got Poptarts?”
“Mmm... No.”
“Then you cook, we order in or we do without.”
Picking up the box with an exclusive men’s store label from the foyer table, she hand it to him. “Happy Birthday.”
“My birthday isn’t until next month,” he stated, reluctant to take anything more from her. She’d already given him more than he’d had any right to expect.
She surprised herself, wondering if he spent his birthday with his parents and if he did, would he call her? Or was he the type to party in Los Angeles, Las Vegas or some exotic locale. “It’s rude to receive gifts badly.”
“Francesca...” There appeared to be no way to gracefully refuse. Taking the box, he lifted the lid. Beneath the tissue paper laid a man’s robe in sapphire blue silk. Not only was it an unwarranted present, it was also very pricey!
She shrugged at his questioning glance. “I figured if you wanted to shower or something you maybe wouldn’t want to get back into clothes,” she said in the way of explanation, then added impishly, “And now you won’t have to walk around like a naked sex slave.”
The latter made JC grin. “Thank you, babe. It’s cool.”
She wouldn’t bother to reveal she had seen it while looking for the perfect Father’s Day gift six weeks earlier and couldn’t imagine purchasing such an item for any male she knew. The moment their eyes met at the club she’d thought of the robe once more.
To cover the silence she went to her telephone and saw she had several messages.
The first message was from her mother. “Fancy, your brother is driving me insane. Call him. Love you.”
Hmm... Johnny loved tweaking their mother. She wondered what he was doing now.
“Fancy?” JC questioned.
“Family pet name.”
“Don’t you have a couple brothers?”
“Three but Johnny is the one she’s talking about”
The second message was from said brother. “Sis, I’m not a baby... Just a spoiled brat.”
Francesca merely laughed.
The final message was from Justine Morgan, Francesca’s life-long friend and rival in nearly everything. “‘Ches, do you have any idea who that hottie was last night?... Why is your cell off? You don’t do that unless you’re being bad. Anyway... there better be some major spillage Monday or there is blackmail in your future.”
“Francesca?” JC didn’t like the idea of someone was threatening her — apparently over him!
“Relax, lover. Justine has been saying that since we were six and I put a frog in Sister Margaret’s desk. She knows if she tries anything I’ll tell Jeff she was the one leaving him lovesick notes in his locker when we were in junior high. She’s still stuck on him.”
“Oh...kay...”
She put her arms around his neck. “So... want to see the bedroom or the bathroom first?” she asked huskily.
“Is the shower big enough for two?”
“Uh-huh.”
“Then I vote bathroom.”