As if it was the most natural thing to do, Bas and Jocelyn wandered the streets holding hands as they shared meals and listened to music from jazz greats as well as students from the University of Memphis music department. One concert displayed a variety of cultures with the native music of the Caribbean, the Middle East and the rich musical heritage of the African-American culture blended together in a way that was soul-stirring at its best.
With vendors on each side the streets were narrow, and more than once Bas had to pull Jocelyn closer to his side to let others pass. Each time his hand touched her waist she would gaze up into the depths of his chocolate eyes and could only smile as an unnerving degree of heat slithered down her spine. Whenever she looked at him her thoughts wandered into forbidden territory and her mind was actually whirling with possibilities of how their night would end.
She clutched the bag filled with the purchases they had made, determined not to go there. Tonight she would go to her room and Bas would go to his; it was that simple. But a warm blush crept into her cheeks when she admitted that that likely wouldn’t be the outcome at all. Something was happening to her. With very little effort Bas was doing something no other man had done—awakening her deepest desires. He was connecting to a part of her she had long denied existed. She inhaled deeply. Where was all that poise, self-control and composure she’d always prided herself on?
It was past midnight when they called it a day and began walking back toward their hotel, still holding hands. She recalled they’d even held hands throughout all the concerts they had attended.
“Did you have fun today?” she asked as they walked lazily through the streets. The crowd on the sidewalks had thinned out a lot. It was evident the people passing them by were party animals, still in a festive mood on their way to some nightclub or other.
Bas smiled at her. “Yes. This is the most fun I’ve had in a long time.”
She grinned and leaned in closer to him. “Even more fun than the fishing trip last weekend?”
He chuckled. “This was a different sort of fun. I hadn’t realized how much I’ve missed by not going to a jazz concert. CDs are nice but there’s nothing like being right there in the audience, having the strings of a guitar and the melodic tune of a piano slowly hum through you. The vitality of it was awesome. Thanks for suggesting that we come.”
She smiled, pleased. “You’re welcome. I’m glad you enjoyed yourself.”
When they reached the entrance to the hotel he suddenly stopped, turned toward her and slid his arms loosely around her neck. He leaned in closer, his mouth barely an inch from hers. “In fact, I may have had too much fun. I’m not ready for the night to end. Feel it?”
“Feel what?” The only thing she felt at that moment was the slow sizzle in her blood from the way he was looking at her. He was so close she could see the dark rings around his pupils, and that look made a deep-rooted longing uncurl inside her.
“Night heat.”
She swallowed against the thickness that suddenly settled in her throat. “Night heat?”
“Yes. Maybe it’s the sound of all that jazz, being surrounded by it while it works inexplicable sensations all through you. But I honestly think it’s something else.”
“What?”
“You. Me. Here. The night. The heat. The connection,” he breathed against her lips. “Close your eyes and feel it.”
Jocelyn closed her eyes and she began to feel it. She mentally savored the sounds around her, the conversations in the distance, the jazzy music that wasn’t ready to end and the breathy sigh that escaped from between her own lips.
A sultry breeze made her sniff the air and she took in the smell of Cajun food, spicy barbecue ribs, the steamy aroma of blue crabs. Then there was the scent of man, at least of the man standing in front of her. Of all the things she had taken in, he was the one thing that made the night steamy. Hot. He was everything she imagined night heat was about—a male rich in sensuality, masculinity and irresistible charm. A man who could make her heart pound from just one heated look. A man who gazed at you as though he was a predator and you were the object of his intent. “Yes, I can feel it,” she murmured truthfully, before opening her eyes.