Second Meeting

“Sarah!” JC called when he saw the woman who had taken over his dreams walked into the studio where he was busy working on the soundtrack for an upcoming movie. God, he thought he’d never see her again! He hadn’t known whom to ask at the party after she’d left. Peter hadn’t known who she was. He’d spent five nights not being able to get her out of his head, dreaming of her, how she felt, how she tasted.

Sarah turned to meet the blue eyes that had haunted her in her sleep. “JC?” Without thinking, she smiled in welcome.

She looked different today. Casual. Snug, low-cut jeans and a baby tee that stated “Don’t Go There” bared her mid-drift. With no make-up, she looked much younger and less like a siren. She was softer and even more beautiful than he remembered. JC quickly went to her. “You look lovely,” he sighed, taking her hands.

He didn’t look bad himself. Young, terribly young, wearing cargo pants and a black tank-top that hugged every muscle of his toned chest and abs. He was making her mouth water, dammit!

JC read her eyes, glad she wasn’t unaffected by him.

Sarah shook her head to break the spell. “So, we meet again.”

“JC Chasez at your service, ma’am.” He grinned.

“Sarah Chase.” She finally had the presence to reclaim her hands and tugged them from his warm grip.

“And now, your phone number, Ms. Chase.”

“I don’t recollect saying you could call me.”

“Don’t be like that, Sarah.”

“I can be anyway I chose, Mr. Chasez,” she reminded him coolly. She certainly didn’t need a young man she could easily obsess over in her life! Right now they had shared one kiss, albeit one hot, devastating kiss, and now she knew his name. Nothing more – and that was the way she intended to keep it.

JC reached up to stroke her hair, tucking it tenderly behind her ear.

Sarah felt herself melt. “JC, don’t,” she whispered weakly. “There’s nothing in it for you, for either of us. Maybe some mighty fine, hot sex, but that’s all.”

He moved closer, lowering his head. The intent to kiss her was plain in his eyes. He watched as her eyelashes fluttered down and her lips parted softly in preparation for his touch.

“Sarah!” a male voice boomed, breaking the moment.

Grateful for the interruption, Sarah moved away to greet her friend. “Hello, Steven.”

“So, you finally decided to come and give us a listen?” the tall, thin blonde man asked.

“With my name on the project, I thought I had better. I don’t want it to be awful.”

Steven shook his head. “It won’t be awful. JC has brought some lovely ballads to the score.”

“JC?” Sarah’s eyes skittered back to the man who had nearly gotten away with kissing her a second time.

“Sure. He doesn’t strictly do dance pop like they try to pigeon-hole him with.”

“I have a feeling, Sarah doesn’t have a clue about who I am.” JC stepped up and put a familiar arm around her shoulders. And he liked that idea. Sarah wanted him for himself – or more exactly she wanted him for sex.

“He’s only one-fifth of the group Rolling Stone called the biggest band in the world.”

No recognition registered on Sarah’s face.

“I take it you don’t read Rolling Stone either,” JC mused.

“No. Why should I?” was Sarah’s retort.

“Stigers and Feinstien are more her speed. Occasionally, Richard Marx,” Steven told JC. “You did Marx on NSA.”

“He’s awesome!” JC enthused.

“You won’t see Sarah at a dance club. You’re more likely find her in a jazz club or a piano bar.”

“I love jazz.” JC smiled. Sarah was sounding better all the time.

Sarah removed herself from under JC’s arm. “You guys don’t need me in this conversation,” she announced, tired of being talked around.

Before she could get far, JC grabbed her hand. “Come listen, Sarah. Please?”

Damn, him! What was it about this JC Chasez that made her so vulnerable? “For a while, I suppose.”

JC sat in the soundproof glass studio, playing the piano. He communicated to the booth where Steven and Sarah stood through a microphone. This song he had written for a love scene. Closing his eyes, he could imagine himself and Sarah on a bed, entwined, making sweet love for the first time. When he finished, he sought Sarah’s eyes as she stood there mesmerized. He could tell she’d had the same steamy thoughts. “Well?”

“Saxophone. A good sex scene needs saxophones.”

Steven laughed. “That’s only ‘cuz saxophone music makes you horny!”

Sarah jabbed his ribs with her elbow, then looked to JC. “Can’t you just hear a saxophone accompaniment, JC?”

Sax made her horny – that stuck in his head. “Yeah, something soft and simple. Piano and sax, I can hear it.”

“Remind me never to invite you in again,” Steven grumbled at Sarah. “You always get your way.”

Sarah laughed triumphantly. “My work her is done.”

JC watched in horror as Sarah was about to walk from his life a second time. “Sarah!” He followed her to the hall, catching her before she made it to the door. “Please, Sarah.”

“JC, this won’t be good for you. Let it go.”

“I know who you are now, I’ll find you.”

She pulled his head down for a kiss that left them both panting when their lips finally separated. She wanted him – badly! Couldn’t he see she was trying not to hurt him. “So…You want to be fuck buddies?” she demanded crudely, hoping to put him off. “Sex is all I want from you, boy. So, don’t go building any romantic fantasies around me.”

He pressed his forehead to hers. “There’s more, baby. There’s so much more.”

“No, there isn’t.” Sarah pulled away. “Your call, JC. Sex or nothing.”

“Sarah, that’s not fair.”

“You’re what? Twenty-four? Twenty-five?”

”Twenty-five.”

“I’m thirty-five, JC. I am not a sweet young thing. Definitely not a virgin. I’ve been kicked around by life. I can be bitter and angry as hell… I’m pretty sure you don’t need that kind of baggage in your life.” With that, she continued towards the exit. “Find yourself a sweet, little girl.” She tossed over her shoulder just before the door closed between them.

JC turned to see Steven, who had watched the entire scene.

“That’s not who Sarah is, JC,” Steven told him. “Sarah is a giving, caring, and loving. She’d put everything on the line for a friend.”

“Then why is she doing this?”

“Because she knows she can hurt you. She doesn’t know who you are exactly, but she can guess your fan base is a generation younger – young enough to be her children. How would they feel about you being with Sarah Chase, a woman who’s books their mother’s read to escape their humdrum lives? You’ve read the script. It’s tame compared to the book.”

“So? She’s older and experienced.”

“That doesn’t even begin to cover the difference between you and Sarah Chase.”