His eyes were blue. This impossible shade of sapphire that seemed unreal, they were so clear and bright. It was the only thing she could focus on when they were together. His hair was dark, either dark brown or black.
"Jay," he whispered into her ear. She pressed herself into his broad, naked chest and inhaled. He smelled incredible, a cologne that she couldn't place. She'd never been able to find it in the stores and she had been searching for a long time.
"Yeah," she breathed looking up into those azure pools, lidded with long, dark eyelashes.
"This is gonna happen," he said putting a hand up to her cheek. "It's gonna work."
She smiled and hugged him, pressing her cheek to his bare chest. "I know."
Then, the beeping started.
Jolie Williams rolled away from her alarm clock, ducked under her pillow and pressed it to her ear. "No, no, no," she moaned. It wasn't time to get up. She didn't want her dream to end.
The beeping got louder, breaching the protection of her pillow. "Damn."
Jolie tossed aside the pillow and swung her legs off the bed. She turned off the blaring alarm and trudged into the bathroom. She couldn't put it off any longer. Her day had begun, whether she liked it or not. She hopped in the shower and thought about her dream.
The mystery man had haunted her for years. She'd been a sophomore in college the first time she dreamed about him. Her roommate had shaken her awake telling her that she was making "sex noises" in her sleep. Jolie had been embarrassed, but so turned on. She could still see his face and feel his hands. His voice was still in her ear and her panties had been soaking wet.
She had thought that the dreams had been premonitions. She was going to meet this guy and they'd fall in love...or at least have sex in real life. After three years of waiting to meet a stranger with dark hair and blue eyes, she gave up. She decided he was just a wet dream her mind had manifested to get her through the hard times. Jolie was notoriously single. Most of her relationships had been two date maximums. She'd had one serious boyfriend that lasted almost a year. I was a miracle Tyshaun lasted that long, as much as they'd fought.
She wasn't one of those women who blamed the men she dated for her track record. It wasn't them, it was her. She was a strong black woman who was about her business. She didn't stroke anyone's ego or hold her tongue. Jolie had always been up front and honest, that was the reason she was constantly unattached. As soon as a guy would say the wrong thing or say something insulting, stupid, or demeaning she would go off.
Maybe she should have let some things go or ignored a quirk on occasion, like when a guy gave her a pat on the butt while they waited in line to buy movie tickets. She could have shrugged it off, but it was their first date and he did not know her like that. Oh well. At least she didn't hit him. She'd wanted to slap his face, but she had managed some restraint.
Jolie snatched her yellow towel off the rack and wrapped herself in it. She had a breakfast meeting with her editor that morning so she couldn't dawdle. Usually she'd take her time putting on lotion and perfume and put the same care in picking out the perfect outfit. She stared at the neatly aligned and organized clothes in her closet and sighed. Breakfast with George McDill didn't require any special outfit. He was the most slovenly adult male she'd ever met. No doubt he'd have coffee stains on his shirt and tie before he walked into the café. She pulled on a pair of well-worn jeans and a red Baby Phat t-shirt that stopped just above her belly button. Her stomach wasn't as toned as she'd like it to be, but she was no slouch.
The bus stop was two blocks from her apartment building. She'd bought an apartment in the Executive Suite building so she could gaze at the city from her couch. The picture windows gave her a view for miles and that really helped her when she got writer's block. She was far from an executive, but she did love her suite.
The bus was late. Her day was starting to go downhill. She was up early and out of the house for this meeting and she was going to be late. Not to mention, the sky was overcast and she hadn't brought an umbrella.
Fat drops started to hit the side of the bench enclosure just as the bus pulled up in front of her. "Damn it," she mumbled scurrying up the stairs.
George was the one who was late. Jolie was on her second cup of coffee by the time he shuffled into the Moonlight Café. She wanted to yell at him. Didn't he know her least favorite thing was waiting? It was her own personal torture, to wait for another person. George McDill was a big man, rotund even. He was handsome in younger days, but middle age had spread those handsome features thin. His "don't give a shit" attitude didn't help either. After his third divorce, he really had stopped giving a shit. His posture had gone down and his weight had gone up. The only thing that mattered was work and at that moment, his work was getting Jolie Williams to turn in her chapters before the deadline the publisher had given.
"Of course I'll have the next six chapters done by next month," Jolie said over breakfast. She picked at a vegetarian omelet while George scarfed down bacon, eggs, and waffles. He always ate well on the company credit card.
She didn't bother telling him that she'd finished those chapters weeks ago and was well into the next section of her new book. Why not let him sweat it out? She loved to watch him squirm when she waited until the last minute.
"Just remember," he said around a mouth full of waffle. "Your publisher didn't write you that check for you to half ass this book."
Jolie rolled her eyes and feigned offense. "Mr. McDill, I don't half-ass anything. The chapters will be on your desk and on time." She glanced out the front window of the café. The rain had let up and she wanted to get back home before it started again. "I've got to go. I'll give you a call."
George mumbled a goodbye as he continued to eat his large breakfast. Back on the street, Jolie hurried to the bus stop and ducked into the protection of the plastic half-booth. There was a guy slouched on the bench, ankles crossed, with a black Yankees cap pulled low. Only the bottom half of his face was visible. She could tell he was white with an angular jaw and chin. Jolie leaned against the booth and crossed her arms, folding herself away from the stranger.
"I won't bite," a voice said. She could barely hear it over the persistent thuds from the rain.
"Excuse me," she said glancing at him. He hadn't moved, but to turn his head slightly in her direction.
"I said, I won't bite, you can sit down if you want."
"That's okay," Jolie answered quickly. "I prefer to stand."
"Oh, please," he scoffed. "No one prefers to stand. Just sit down. You know your feet hurt. Look at the heel on those boots."
