Chapter 3
A/N: Lots of lovely reviews would be great for your author, who is enduring being cooped up inside because there is so much smoke outside from forest fires that it's not wise to go outside much and we have to leave the doors and windows shut tight. Ah, for some rain....-DL
Amelie flagged down a passing waiter, and each of them took a champagne flute from the tray. Jazz’s fingers tightened on the stem as Xavier leveled that intense stare on him. He felt like he was being flayed by those eyes. He had to fight to keep his face expressionless as Amelie lifted her glass. “To our business together! May it be a total success!”
“I’ll drink to that,” Xavier rumbled, lifting his glass to his lips. Jazz gulped down his own champagne, wishing it were hard liquor. This evening was not going as he’d hoped it would! And it was all due, once again, to the man standing to his left. Xavier Paretiss was driving him crazy!
Xavier lowered his glass, smiling at Amelie. “You’ve made my evening, agreeing to work with me on this,” he told her. “I’m really impressed with your work.”
She preened a little, but also reached out and patted Jazz’s arm. “I must confess, much of that work is not mine, but Jazz’s,” she explained to Xavier. “He is an amazing designer. You will not be disappointed in his work, Monsieur Xavier, I promise you.”
“I’m sure I won’t,” Xavier said, his eyes coming to rest on Jazz’s face once again. “I, for one, can’t wait for tomorrow so that I can see him in action,” his lips lifted in just the slightest of wicked smiles, making Jazz want to growl in frustrated rage. The man was purposefully tormenting him! He obviously thought it was entertaining to poke fun at Jazz. Working with him was going to be pure hell…
Jazz was in a terrible mood when he walked into the shiny glass high-rise building that housed the offices of Xavier Paretiss’s athletics-wear business the next morning. He had a headache from drinking too much champagne last night, and he’d been so worked up that he hadn’t even taken anybody home with him. So now he was horny, irritable, in pain, and he had to spend at least part of the day today working closely with that miserable Xavier Paretiss! He stalked up to the reception desk in the lobby, and the guard stationed there told him what floor to go to when Jazz said he had an appointment with Xavier Paretiss.
He went to the bank of elevators and rode one to the sixteenth floor, moodily tapping his drawing pencil against the pad of paper he was carrying. He just wanted this whole thing to be over. Well, at least he looked totally hot. That made him feel somewhat better. He’d chosen a grey-silk jacket over a flowing, collarless shirt with little metallic accents woven into the fabric that caught the light and caused a dim sparkle when he walked. It was one of his own designs, and he’d made it for himself in a slightly more masculine cut. The pants he was wearing hugged his legs and ass beautifully, the suede cupping his assets lovingly. The ankle boots he was wearing had a low heel. A belt accented with silver conches clasped his slim waist and showed off his figure even more. He was definitely smokin’ hot, and even if Xavier Paretiss couldn’t appreciate that fact he didn’t care. He’d dressed to make himself feel better, not to flaunt what he’d turned down in Xavier’s face. Of course not.
He exited the elevator, giving a handsome man also stepping out of it a flirtatious glance. The man returned the look with interest, and Jazz lowered his eyelids a bit in a ’come-hither’ look, leaving the man staring after him as he walked away. He switched his hips deliberately, giving the man an eyeful. He felt better about himself already. He still had it! Okay, maybe Xavier Paretiss wasn’t interested, but lots of other guys were. He was only one man. What did the opinion of one man matter to him?
He arrived at the glass doors leading into the offices of X-tremeSportsWear, Inc., Xavier’s athletic-wear business. He pushed open the doors and stepped inside. The receptionist, a pretty blonde woman, looked up at his entrance. “Hello,” she said. “May I help you?”
“Yes. I’m Jazz Sullivan. I have an appointment this morning with Mr. Paretiss.”
“Oh, yes, he’s expecting you. Please go right in,” she said, turning and indicating a closed set of doors nearby.
“Thank you,” he said with a small smile for her. It wasn’t HER fault that her boss was irritating in the extreme.
He walked over to the doors and knocked on them, and heard that deep voice call: “Come in,” he pushed the doors open, and walked into a huge, beautiful office that took his breath away.
Xavier Paretiss was standing behind a huge, carved-oak desk that had to be an antique. Behind him, a wall of windows showed a dazzling view of the city. Jazz drew in a long breath, his eyes taking in the site of the towers rising into the sky in all their majestic glory. “Good morning, Jazz,” he heard Xavier say. “Do you like the view?”
He started a little, drawn back into the office by Xavier’s voice. “Yes, it’s beautiful,” he said, forcing himself to meet those intense eyes.
“I’m glad you like it. That’s why I got these offices, actually. The view was so stunning I couldn’t help myself.”
He looked Jazz over, and he felt a little too warm under that stare. He lifted his chin to show Xavier that he didn’t care, and the other man smiled slightly and pointed to a wingback leather chair across from his desk. “Please have a seat, and let’s talk,” he said, resuming his own seat behind his desk. “Would you like some coffee?”
“Yes, I’d love some,” Jazz breathed, needing something to wake himself up and drive away some of the champagne headache.
Xavier nodded and used the intercom to ask the receptionist to bring them some coffee and pastries. After that, he leveled that stare on Jazz again. “Listen, before we start, I want to say that I know we got off on the wrong foot at that club the other night. I know you don’t like me much, you made that pretty clear when you got drunk and chewed me out,” he sounded faintly amused, as Jazz’s brows drew together.
“Chewed you out?” he repeated. “What are you talking about?”
Xavier’s thick dark brows lifted slightly. “You don’t remember?”
He shook his head. “No. What happened?”
Xavier chuckled a bit. “You ran into me on the dance floor and told me how much you hated me. What a jerk I was. You were totally hammered, so I put you in a cab and sent you home. I was afraid that something might happen to you if I didn’t.”
So that’s how he’d gotten home, and why he’d been alone! “Oh,” he said slowly. “I woke up the next morning and had no idea how I’d gotten home.”
“Did you? Well, I carried you outside and put you in a cab.”
“Carried?!” Jazz yelped. “You carried me?!”
Xavier grinned. “Yep. A simple fireman’s carry. You didn’t want to leave, so I had to take matters into my own hands. Don’t worry - you told me how much you hated me the entire time I was carrying you.”
Jazz glowered at him. “I can’t imagine why I would have said I hated you,” he snapped. “First you insulted me when all I’d done was hit on you, then you threw me over your shoulder and carried me outside like a Neanderthal! What’s to hate?” he said sardonically.
Xavier steepled his fingers in front of him on the desk. “I might have been a little harsh,” he conceded. “But I was also honest with you. I’m simply not interested in one-night stands with guys who clearly…err…play the field. Look, you’re a beautiful man, Jazz. But looks aren’t enough. Not for me, anyway.”
He stared at Xavier. “You really think I’m beautiful?” he said.
Xavier’s brows lifted again. “Of course I do. Doesn’t everybody? Your self-esteem can’t be that high if you need every person you come into contact with to stroke your ego,” he said, eyeing Jazz.
He felt his cheeks turn red. “I just like compliments, that’s all,” he said with as much dignity as he could muster. “And it’s a nice change to get one from you after the other night.”
Xavier’s lips twitched. “I might have said that you were vain, egotistical, and shallow,” he pointed out, “But I never said that you didn’t have a reason to be. You’re gorgeous. But like I said, looks aren’t enough. So could we put that whole incident behind us and work together like two professionals? What do you say?”
Jazz considered his proposal. At last he said: “Yes, we can. I’ll admit you wounded my ego, which can be pretty…big. I’m not used to being turned down. But now that you’ve explained why you did, it’s okay with me. My friend Basil was right. He tried to tell me that you might be the kind of guy who doesn’t like someone like me, someone who likes to sleep around…but I was too mad at the time to listen to him.”
“Sounds like you have a smart friend,” Xavier remarked. “Anyway, I’ve got a catalogue here with our merchandise in it. I want you to look it over and see what our products normally look like, then I want you to take them and run with them. Put your own spin on sportswear, design me something that I can sell to the wealthy ladies of New York City - and hopefully other places as well eventually - to work out in.”
“I’m sure I can do that,” Jazz said, standing up and reaching out to take the catalogue from his fingers. He felt a jolt when their fingers brushed a little, but he ruthlessly repressed it. Xavier Paretiss wasn’t the least bit interested in him. So be it. There were plenty of other sexy hunks in the city, he could take his pick.
He sat back down in the leather wingchair, which was extremely comfortable. He opened the catalogue and leafed through it, while Xavier got up and went over to let his receptionist in. She was pushing a wheeled cart with a coffee service on it, as well as a silver tray with pastries arranged on it. He thanked her and had her leave the cart near the absorbed Jazz.
Xavier poured them both cups of the hazelnut French roast coffee, his own personal favorite. “Jazz?” he asked, making the other man’s eyes lift from the catalogue he’d been engrossed in. “How do you take your coffee? And what kind of pastry would you like?”
“Two dollops of cream, and just a touch of sugar,” Jazz told him. “And do you have a raspberry tart?”
“Yes, I think I do,” Xavier remarked, though he couldn’t conceal his expression from Jazz fast enough.
“What is it? What’s so funny?” Jazz demanded suspiciously, eyeing him.
“It’s nothing,” he said hurriedly. When Jazz frowned awfully at him, he gave in. “I’m sorry, it’s just funny that your favorite pastry is a tart,” he said, waiting for Jazz to get mad and yell at him again.
But to his surprise, the designer giggled. “Yes, I suppose you have a point,” he said gaily. “I never thought about it that way before, but it does suit me, doesn’t it?”
At Xavier’s look of surprise, he grinned. “Hey, I know what I am,” he said merrily. “I make no bones about it, either. I’m not ashamed to be a bit of a tart. I think you should always own who and what you are, don’t you?”
Xavier gave him a thoughtful look. “Yes, I agree completely,” he said. “I think I’ve changed my mind about one thing, Jazz. You’re definitely not as shallow as I thought you were.”
Jazz gave him an ironic look. “Thank you. I’m flattered by your praise,” he said dryly.
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