Queen of His Heart

by Adrianne Byrd

  “Have you ever tried our products before?” Tracee asked, picking up on his interest.

  “Uhm, no.” Before he knew it, Tracee had popped out of her seat and rushed around the desk.

  “You know, there are plenty of men who use our products,” she said, opening the display cases.

  “Really?”

  “Oh, of course. It’s just as important for men to take care of their skin as women.” She grabbed a bottle and took his hand. “Especially in this town,” she added cheekily as she squeezed out a dollop of cream onto the back of his hand and began rubbing it in. “Feel how light that is?”

  “Uh, yes.” He cleared his throat. “That’s very nice.”

  “That’s because we use all-natural ingredients. And this particular formula cleans and moisturizes at the same time.”

  “I guess that would be…beneficial,” he said, trying to add to the conversation.

  Tracee bobbed her head. “Mind if I ask what products you use to clean your face?”

  Keenan blinked. It was the first time he’d found himself discussing his “beauty regime.” “Soap and water.”

  Tracee’s sunny disposition collapsed. “Oh, my God. Do you know how harsh soap is to your skin?”

  If he hadn’t been there to see it with his own eyes, he would never have believed that this woman actually pulled out a large magnifying glass from her white jacket and began inspecting his face. Keenan held his breath and stood perfectly still while she carried on with her inspection.

  “You know what you need?” she asked. The magnifying glass made her look like a huge Cyclops.

  “What’s that?”

  “A deep exfoliating seaweed facial mask.”

  “An ex-what?”

  “Exfoliating mask. Knock off all that dead skin.”

  Dead skin. What on earth is she talking about? He glanced toward a mirror. No one had ever told him that there was something wrong with his skin.

  “C’mon.” She grabbed his hand again. “I’m gonna hook you up.” She marched back to her desk and picked up the phone.

  “Wait. What about Ms. Goodwyn?”

  “Don’t worry. When she’s done with her meeting, I’ll bring her over to your chair. Right now, you need an emergency intervention.”

  Keenan touched his face. Is it that bad? “But—but—”

  “Trust me. You’ll thank me later.”

  “I knew it!” Martina howled. “I told you that his big butt was a freak, didn’t I? Ha!” An even five feet tall plus-size woman with a penchant for wearing her clothes a few sizes too small, Martina was larger than life. Her boisterous voice and her constantly changing hair color (this week a frosted honey blond) made sure that everyone within a three-mile radius knew whenever she was near.

  “All right. All right,” Jalila conceded. She struggled to prevent a smile from easing onto her face.

  “Never pick up men at a gas station.” Martina slapped her hand down on Jalila’s desk and continued to laugh her butt off.

  “Hey, he picked me up,” Jalila stressed. “I was just giving a brother a chance. Men are always claiming that sistahs are just too picky.”

  “The men that say that ain’t about nothing.” Martina’s hands settled on her hips as her neck swiveled around. “They want the total package in a woman while they roam the streets looking like whodunit and what for.”

  Jalila conceded the point.

  “Ain’t nothing wrong with being picky, girl. The last thing you want to do is end up spending the rest of your life with the wrong man. Settling is for losers.”

  “Yeah, I hear you.” Jalila folded her arms and leaned back in her chair.

  Martina snapped her fingers. “I know what we need to do.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Go on vacation.”

  Jalila finally laughed. “Girl, there is too much work around here.”

  “You always say that.”

  “That’s because it’s always true. Maybe next year.”

  Martina clucked her tongue and rolled her eyes. “I’m telling you, you need to go away so you can get your groove back.”

  “Please. You know what happened to the last sistah that did that. She got played.”

  “True. True. But what about—”

  “You know, Martina. I just need to take a break right now.”

  “A break? Girl, you haven’t had sex in two years. If you break any longer you’re going to forget what to do with a good stiff dick.”

  “Martina!”

  “What? I’m just keeping it real. Don’t you miss it?”

  “Hell, yeah, I miss it. Damn, I was just minutes away from jumping that shoe-sniffing freak the other night. But there’s got to be a better way of going about doing this.” Jalila turned in her chair and stared out of her office window. “Finding love shouldn’t be this difficult.”

  “Says who?”

  Jalila didn’t have an answer. She just knew that she was tired of club-hopping, online dating and speed dating. After a long silence she stood up from her desk and said, “I’d better get back out on the floor. There’s somebody out there waiting to see me.”

  Martina took pity on her solemn expression. “Chin up, girl. We’re going to find you a husband one day.”

  “Yeah. Maybe.”

  Keenan struggled to move his face. It felt like a block of concrete had cemented everything in place. Is this normal? He reached up from beneath his smock to try to touch his face but his hand was quickly smacked away.

  “No. Don’t touch,” his clinician, Fantasia, warned. “You just have a couple more minutes and then we will wash it off.”

  Wash it off or chisel it off?

  Reclining in a large leather chair, Keenan tilted his head toward the mirror on the wall to get a good look at himself. The mint-colored goo made him look like something out of one of his favorite old horror movies. Thank God that nobody he knew could see him right now.

  “If you could just close your eyes, I can put these chilled cucumbers in place.”

  Cucumbers?

  “Now these little babies are just going to do wonders for the tiny lines under your eyes.”

  Lines? I don’t have any lines under my eyes.

  Instead of arguing, he allowed Fantasia to place the cold vegetable slices on his eyes. He sighed. It did kinda feel pretty good.

  “So. What is it that you do?” Fantasia asked.

  Keenan licked his lips and tried to talk, but it was difficult given that he could hardly move his face. “I’m a television producer.”

  “Come again?”

  “Television producer,” he tried again, this time kicking up the volume.

  “Oooh. Reeeally?” Fantasia’s voice spiked with interest. “You know I used to do a little acting.”

  Keenan was grateful that cucumber masked his eye-rolling at the standard response people gave him.

  “My high-school theater teacher used to tell me that I was a natural,” she added.

  “Is that right?” How much longer did he have to sit like this?

  “I can even cry on demand.” Keenan bobbed his head, though his patience was starting to thin.

  The soft clicking of high heels caught his attention. When it was clear that they were heading his way, his heart sped up in anticipation. He started to reach up and remove the cucumber slices, but stopped, fearing another smack on the hand.

  “Mr. Armstrong?”

  Recognizing Jalila’s lyrical voice, Keenan tried to smile. He sat up in the chair and risked the abuse of Fantasia by removing the cucumbers.

  Jalila smiled and offered her hand. “Hello.”

  Keenan had thought he was prepared for Jalila’s beauty, but he quickly found out that he was dead wrong. Her glowing skin and plump lips had him salivating. However, it was her eyes, dark and vibrant, that pulled and tried to hypnotize him. Finally, he realized that she was waiting for him to speak. “Hello, Ms. Goodwyn. Nice to meet you…again.” Of course, his words didn’t
quite sound right, but she took mercy and smiled at him.

  “Have we met?”

  “Oh, yeah. I, uh wanted to talk to about…uh, a personal proposition.”

  “I’m not quite sure that I know what that means,” she said.

  Keenan suddenly felt frantic to scrape the cement off his face.

  She laughed. “Here. Let me help you.” She moved up behind him and swirled his chair back to face the wall mirror. “Just lean back. I’ll finish you up.”

  He followed her instructions and was rewarded when he caught her soft scent—Chanel No. 5.

  “Oh, I can do that for you, Ms. Goodwyn,” Fantasia offered.

  “That’s all right. I got him. Can you bring over some steamed towels?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  Jalila returned her attention to Keenan. He felt that strange beating sensation in his heart again.

  “Sooo. You have some personal-slash-business proposition you want to discuss with me?”

  He nodded, his gaze still drinking her in.

  “You know in some circles that sounds a little lurid.”

  Fantasia returned with a stack of hot towels. Keenan watched as Jalila’s slender fingers unrolled a couple of the towels.

  “Okay. Are you ready to experience what heaven feels like?”

  An image of her nude body lying hot and sweaty beneath him flashed in his mind and he blinked in surprise.

  Still smiling, Jalila lowered the hot towel over his face. The warm steam instantly loosened the hardened seaweed mask.

  Keenan could actually feel his facial muscles again. “Ahhh,” he sighed.

  “Feels good, huh?” Her nimble fingers began massaging his skin. “I told you. This is one of my favorite treatments. Trust me. You’re going to feel like a million bucks when you walk out of here.”

  “Mission accomplished,” he mumbled.

  “Is this your first time here, Mr. Armstrong?” she inquired.

  “Mmm-hmm.” His eyes drifted closed. “This really does feel divine.”

  “Mind if I asked how you heard about us?”

  “Online,” he mumbled. Did this woman have magic hands or what?

  “Oh. So you visited our Web site?”

  He stiffened. “Yeah.” He had visited the Body by Jalila Web site—after watching hours of her YouTube videos—so it wasn’t a lie. “Actually, my, uhm, sister sort of told me about you.”

  “Ah. Your sister is a client then?” She removed the towel and then stopped and stared at him.

  “Not exactly. She’s a fan of your YouTube channel.”

  Jalila blinked. She hadn’t heard a word he’d said once she’d removed his towel and found herself looking at the gorgeous man from Las Brisas the other day. Smooth, even chocolate skin, LL Cool J lips and an adorable cleft chin. She couldn’t have chiseled out a better fantasy if she tried. Only—wasn’t he like some creepy Hollywood something or another?

  When Jalila didn’t respond, Keenan took it as his cue to hurry up with his explanation.

  “You see, I’m a television producer,” he continued. “The name of my company is A.M. Production—Armstrong-Murphy. Anyway, my business partner and I were interested in doing a reality show this coming season.”

  Still silence.

  “I know this is…unusual, but after watching your YouTube videos, I felt that you would be the ideal woman for the show.”

  Jalila finally emerged from her stupor. “Show? What show?”

  He misunderstood her confusion. “See, uhm, the show would be about us, the producers, helping you find your perfect match. A soul mate.”

  “A soul mate?” she parroted, still struggling to connect the dots. But it was hard. It wasn’t every day that some outrageously handsome man showed up in her spa to tell her that he wanted to be her fairy godfather and poof—find her a soul mate. As far as she was concerned she would never fantasize about Idris Elba again. True to form, her body was going haywire. Without looking, she knew her nipples were perking up and stretching against her bra and shirt.

  However, he wasn’t saying that he was her soul mate. Only that he wanted to help her find him. This was definitely a blow to her ego.

  “Let me get this straight,” she finally said. “You want me to do a reality show?”

  “Yes.”

  “Because you want to help me find my soul mate?”

  “Correct.”

  Off to their right, Fantasia and Martina stood listening to their whole conversation. Jalila glanced over at them.

  “Do it,” her girls whispered.

  “I don’t know. TV?”

  “Is it any different than YouTube? You’re still broadcasting to the entire world.”

  She hesitated. He did have a point, and hadn’t she tried everything else? Her gaze skimmed over his amazing body. Well, I haven’t tried everything.

  “How do I know you’re legit?”

  He handed her another business card. “Maybe you should look me up on the Web.”

  She smiled. “Okay,” she said, drawing a deep breath. “Why not? If you check out, then I’ll do it.”

  Chapter 6

  It was just a little past noon and Nitara was concerned. Keenan had yet to call into the office, and he’d completely blown his conference call with the ABC executives this morning. After working so hard to get on their schedule, it just wasn’t like him not to show or at least to call to say what was up. She told herself to give him another hour. After that, she was going to go all Lojack on him.

  This would, of course, screw up her own schedule for the day.

  Dee Dee, the company’s script reader/receptionist, poked her head into the office. “Got a minute?”

  “Sure, come on in.”

  Dee Dee pushed her way through the door, carrying a huge stack of telescripts.

  “Wow. You did all of those already?”

  “Yes, ma’am. Coversheet and overview are stapled on top of all of them.”

  “Any of them good?” Nitara inquired, wanting to cut to the chase.

  Dee Dee scrunched up her face.

  “Nuff said.”

  “Seems all the writers in this town want to do is a spec script of The Office or Grey’s Anatomy.” Dee Dee glanced around. “Keenan hasn’t made it in yet?”

  “No. I’m starting to worry about him.”

  As if having some sixth sense that he was being talked about, Keenan strode into the office. “Good morning, ladies!”

  “It’s after noon,” Nitara informed him. “Why the hell are you so happy?”

  He shrugged as he plopped into his chair. “Can’t a man be happy?”

  Nitara and Dee Dee glanced at each other.

  “Well, maybe I want to be in a good mood, too. How about sharing your secrets?”

  “I’m not in a good mood,” he corrected with a faux sternness.

  “You’re happy but you’re not in a good mood,” she said, trying to follow him.

  “Right. I’m not in a good mood, I’m in a great mood.”

  “Oh, really?” Nitara eased back in her chair and crossed her arms.

  “Sounds like a woman to me,” Dee Dee said.

  Nitara shifted in her chair. “Oooh.”

  “It’s not a woman,” he said.

  “Then what is it?”

  “Well, it is a woman—but not in the traditional sense,” Keenan explained.

  “What—she used to be a man?”

  “Ha!” Dee Dee snorted and then remembered her place. “Ah, sorry.”

  “Are you going to spit this out any time soon?” Nitara glanced at her watch. “I have a pretty busy schedule.”

  Keenan laughed and propped his heels onto the corner of his desk. “What would you say if I told you I’ve found the star of our next fall show?”

  “I’d ask ‘What fall show?’”

  “I’ve decided that we will do a reality show.”

  A smile bloomed across Nitara’s face. “Ah, you finally saw the light, did you?”

/>   “I guess you can say that. But more important, I found our star.”

  “Uh-huh.” Doubt crept into Nitara’s face and tone. “Now what kind of reality show are we supposedly doing?”

  Keenan popped back out of his chair. “Remember you told me that the best or most-watched reality shows are those about romance—single-man-finds-single-woman kind of shows, right?”

  “Right.”

  “Except for The Amazing Race,” Dee Dee interjected. “I love that show.”

  “Well, we’re not doing a knockoff of that show. We’re going to do a different version of a matchmaking show.”

  “It’s not going to involve a man wearing a Viking hat, is it?” Nitara asked.

  “No.”

  “Then I love it already.”

  “What I want to do is a sort of Real World meets The Bachelorette. We’re not going to rent a mansion for a few weeks and have the couple do these big corporate-sponsored dates that end after the show’s finished taping. What you have there is people falling in love with a mirage.”

  Nitara and Dee Dee nodded in agreement.

  “What we’ll do is have one big party of say twenty-five male candidates vying for the chance to date one woman. She’ll work the room and then narrow it down to three candidates. From there we follow the bachelorette around in her real-world habitat. Meet her friends, her family. Same for the men. We see where they’re coming from. But the whole dating process is totally on the guys. They plan the dates, they spend their money. This gives them and the audience a chance to see the real people and not a script. At the end of the show, the woman will pick one of the men she’d like to continue dating.”

  “Or marry,” Dee Dee said. “You can’t have a show like this and not have a ring at the end. Women tune in for the ring.”

  Keenan glanced at Nitara. “I agree with Dee Dee. There needs to be a ring at the end.”

  “We’ll leave that up to the men.” His gaze bounced between the women. “So—what do you think?”

  The women looked at each other, nodded their heads and then finally Nitara spoke. “I like it.”

  “What are you going to call the show?” Dee Dee asked.

  Keenan paused as he thought about Jalila. Parts of him responded instantly. “How about Queen of Hearts?”