The Love Campaign (Romantic Revelations Series Book 1)

by Laura Marquez Diamond

  The woman who led them back to the lobby gave a tinkling laugh and looked back at him. “You’re so funny,” she gushed. “Automatons…”

  “Hmm,” was all he managed in response.

  “As you can see, they’re in good hands with Ms. Patel,” Mr. Watson commented.

  “Absolutely,” the woman interjected. “Ever since Jaya took over, the youth incidents have decreased by a lot,” she said while putting her hands in expressive air quotes around the word incidents.

  “Thank her for me, please.” Sebastian was starting to shake everyone’s hand on his way out. “For the tour. And thank the kids, too. They did a wonderful job.”

  “Good, good,” Mr. Watson said. “I’ll definitely send your regards along. Although you’ll probably have a chance to thank Jaya yourself. She’ll be speaking at the fundraising gala next weekend. The official campaign opener.”

  Sebastian might have looked as perplexed as he felt because Mr. Watson continued. “We received your RSVP. You’ll make it right? Did anything change?”

  “Right. Cool. No, nothing’s changed. I’ll see you all there, I guess,” Sebastian called out casually as he waved back.

  He sat in his car and composed a text for his new agent, Chris Hoffer. It was a testament to Sebastian’s budding career that he cut ties with his second-rate, Minnesota-based agent and signed with a smooth-talking New Yorker.

  Sebastian: Just did that community center thing.

  Chris: I know. My assistant tagged you on Instagram and Twitter. Good pictures.

  Sebastian: There were pictures taken? I didn’t even notice.

  Chris: We can’t post pictures with the kids’ faces but a bunch of them looking up at you adoringly worked just fine.

  Sebastian: Right. Hey, did you RSVP for me? For their gala or whatever?

  Chris: Yup. And I didn’t add a plus one. We need to veer away from your playboy reputation. That energy drink endorsement is for kids so I need you to bring the wholesome guy part, not the man whore part. Got it?

  Sebastian: Sure, since you asked so fucking nicely.

  Chris: That right there. Wholesome, Sebastian. Be fucking wholesome.

  ***

  The fundraising gala was held at the Monroe Hall, a modern building with floor-to-ceiling windows that looked out to a courtyard of fountains. About a hundred people were mingling around candlelit cocktail tables and by the cash bar. A slightly raised podium was against the back wall. Behind it was a projector that threatened to accompany what was sure to be boring speeches and tedious presentations.

  Sebastian pasted on a smile while the press took pictures of him shaking hands. He fielded a short interview with a local station. He tried to keep the talking points towards the community center fundraiser instead of insights on midseason Thrashers hockey team gossip. He thought he handled it pretty well. Wholesome and friendly Sebastian was officially the face of the campaign. Mr. Watson made sure to put Sebastian in front of anyone with a mike or a camera.

  He hobnobbed with Cincinnati elites, politicians, and executives for what felt like forever, but was probably forty-five minutes. Edgar Collinwood, the Thrashers’ general manager who had his hand in a little bit of everything around the city, introduced Sebastian to a middle-aged couple. They were both plastic surgeons and seemed obsessed with aching body parts. Are injuries the only thing old people talked about?

  “If my son woke up with my fifty-year-old body,” the guy was saying, “I bet he would just lie there and scream.”

  They all laughed, even the wife who shook her head as evidence that she heard this joke many times before. If he had to listen to another injury story, he was going to scream, so Sebastian politely excused himself. It was time for a tall glass of beer and maybe a shot of espresso. He was so bored.

  Then, from the corner of his eye, he was drawn to something bright amid black dresses and dark suits.

  She stood out. Even from across the room, the vision of Jaya stilled his body and then sputtered it into overdrive. She looked fucking magnificent. Upon entrance, she was immediately greeted by a woman who hugged her and made a motion for Jaya to spin around. Jaya’s back stiffened slightly but then she complied. Gave a little spin while the woman seemed to fawn over her clothes. Mr. Watson brought her over to a group of people who also gawked at her in admiration. She held herself proud and formal, like a queen indulging the minions.

  As if she felt the weight of his stare, their eyes met. He lifted the beer glass to cheer her. She gave the slightest, nearly imperceptible, shrug. She didn’t have a drink. No one had even offered her a drink. She was expected to perform her role as the community center representative immediately and without the same accommodation given to donors.

  She was in conversation with an older man when her gaze darted up again to catch his stare. Sebastian held up his glass of beer and pointed at it. Somehow, Jaya flicked her head just enough to indicate a “no.” Sebastian turned around and bought a glass of white wine and as soon as it was poured, he turned around to continue their long-distance charades.

  She had moved on to another couple, but he caught her attention when he raised the wine glass. A slight lilt of her lips, a subtle nod, and he began to walk over.

  As he approached, she disentangled herself from the huddle and met him halfway. Closer, Sebastian better appreciated her elegant features and tasteful make-up. Jaya’s dark eyes were sultry and full lips glistened in a muted pink shade. She licked her lips, staring at the glass of wine like it was manna from heaven.

  She was wearing a pale, rose-colored sari that draped her body in all the right places. An intricate pattern, in complementary shades of pink, was woven into the fabric that draped over one shoulder. The sari was long and fitted, following her curves and exposing a shapely brown shoulder that looked even softer than the silk she wore.

  “Hi, Sebastian,” she said formally, though she looked at him with interest. Did her eyes just graze over his chest? Interesting.

  She accepted the glass he offered and had a rather inelegant first gulp before she mouthed “thank you.” She sighed then took a smaller sip.

  “Jaya. You look great,” he said flirtatiously.

  She seemed about to roll her eyes but bit her lower lip instead as if to stop herself from the impulse.

  Jaya took a deep breath and launched her speech. “I didn’t have a chance to say thank you when you came to the community center. Coming out and meeting the kids was…it was nice. Really great. They enjoyed it and I hope you, um, you got something out of it too. So, yeah, thanks. And have fun tonight,” she declared, ready to dismiss his company. She gave a quick nod and was about to leave. He reached out to gently touch her elbow, which was smooth and soft.

  “What’s the rush?” he asked. Her hesitation made him grin. “I meant to thank you too, you know,” he continued.

  She raised an impudent brow and tilted her head slightly. “Alright. I’m listening.”

  Unperturbed by her haughtiness, he closed the distance and realized he had not let go of her elbow. He moved his fingers to skim slightly and watched as her eyes darkened under heavy lids. She didn’t move away. So soft. Her skin was so soft.

  “They’re great kids, and I know that’s not easy to pull off at that age. Thanks for making this,” he gave a vague lift of his chin in a gesture of acknowledging the pomp around them, “all of this mean something. Thanks for helping me see the big picture.”

  He didn’t do it consciously but with each sentence, his voice was just a little bit deeper, a little bit huskier. And because of the noise around them, he had to lean in and put his mouth by her ear. Jaya’s thick hair was loosely pinned up, allowing black, wavy strands to escape. One of those strands tickled his nose and he almost moaned at how fruity and clean and womanly it smelled. Without thinking, he stretched his hand to fully cup her elbow and gave the slightest of tugs. Her skin was so fucking soft.

  She snapped out of her momentary stillness in response to the tug. Jaya cleared
her throat, stepped back, and gave a stiff smile. “Yeah, well, OK. You’re welcome.”

  She turned around quickly and might have gotten tangled in her own legs because she momentarily lost balance. She caught herself and put her arms out before Sebastian could reach over to help. Then, shoulders squared, she walked away towards the podium where Mr. Watson was waiting.

  He worked very hard not to stare at her ass, which no doubt looked fantastic in her silky sari.

  The yada, yada part of the ceremony started, with Mr. Watson thanking corporate sponsors. The assistant to the mayor or some other administrative bureaucrat went on stage to officiate the proceedings.

  Sebastian was asked to say a few words, which he kept short and candid. “I’m proud to be part of this campaign,” he said. “I met those kids, and it should be everyone’s privilege to help them reach their potential. Let’s all do our part and make sure the youth in our community have a safe and fulfilling place to thrive. You can start by getting drunk tonight since proceeds of the cash bar go towards the fund. Don’t drink and drive, though. Enjoy!”

  People laughed and clapped like he expected them to. After his talk, he did as he preached and walked to the bar. He watched the rest of the ceremony from that vantage point, leaning his back against the high counter. The whole time, Jaya was on the stage as one of a lineup of speakers sitting and waiting their turn.

  An older man beside her patted her thigh and leaned in to say something. Jaya’s forehead creased with annoyance and then she rearranged her face into an accommodating smile.

  He didn’t know her very well, but he knew enough about her temperament to guess that Jaya pulled a muscle in her effort to smile back at that man. It was difficult for Sebastian to watch her fierceness tamped down, tamed into bland pleasantry, to mollify the donor crowd.

  When it was Jaya’s turn to take the podium, she cued the presentation and dimmed the lights so that attention turned towards the screen. She was articulate and professional when she explained mundane statistics about programming benefits for kids and inclusion efforts and diversity goals and all kinds of important but boring information. The lame graphs made people groan before they tuned out. She was up there for no more than a few minutes, but Mr. Watson could not have looked more relieved when she finally said, “Any questions?” The audience perked up when they realized she was done.

  “Thank you, everyone, for helping us kick off this campaign,” Mr. Watson announced as part of his concluding remarks. “Now let’s enjoy the music and this wonderful evening.”

  People started mingling again. A few hockey fans congregated around Sebastian. Still, he was half-watching Jaya from across the room. She was doing her job of chatting up donors, but during each conversation seemed to creep closer to the exit.

  She didn’t have a drink, so he turned around to get her another glass of wine. But when he looked back, she was gone. A quick sweep of his eyes confirmed that she wasn’t in the room.

  Sebastian didn’t know why, didn’t analyze his motives or anything, but felt compelled to bring her that glass of wine. He told himself that it was his job, as representative of this campaign, to ensure the youth coordinator didn’t feel like shit because she had to kowtow to a bunch of middle-aged bourgeoisie elites who didn’t think her presentation was important. It was for the good of the campaign and not at all about watching her relish that first sip.

  He found her outside, sitting on a bench. Jaya was huddled in her winter jacket and looking at her phone. He approached and held out the glass of wine.

  Her surprise morphed into confusion. “You didn’t have to do that, Sebastian.”

  “Get you a drink? If anyone needs one, it’s you.”

  She cackled slightly and then groaned. “It was pretty bad, wasn’t it?”

  He shrugged and made himself comfortable beside her. “That depends on what you mean by bad. Maybe most people don’t go out on Saturday nights to learn statistics on gang involvement and preteen drug use. But I know I do. Compelling stuff,” he droned, straight-faced serious.

  “Shut up,” she retorted, but with no hostility. “I’m terrible at standing in front of people and basically asking for money. Working with kids is one thing, but that stuff, ugh. Not everyone can get people to do their bidding by bulldozing them with charm, you know.”

  He snorted. “Only you would characterize charm as something as aggressive as a bulldozer.”

  She elbowed him good-naturedly. “You know what I mean.”

  “So you think I’m charming?” he asked slyly. In response, she shook her head and narrowed her eyes over the rim of the glass.

  “Did I tell you how stunning you look tonight?” His voice was husky and strained.

  She choked and some of the wine seemed to go up her nose because her face contorted. “Ugh, not you, too!” Jaya declared.

  “What?! Can’t I give you a compliment?”

  “I don’t have the chance to wear a sari often, so I forget that in places like this I tend to get treated like a fucking mascot. If someone says Princess Jasmine one more time, I swear I’m gonna punch them in the throat.”

  It was his turn to choke at the image of Jaya’s vehemence. When he looked over, she wasn’t actually angry but seemed vindicated by the chance to say her thoughts out loud.

  “Fuck, I’d pay to see that,” he said. They both laughed, probably at the same image of those Botox-filled faces frozen into permanent expressions of shock.

  Sebastian watched her shoulders relax and he was suddenly acutely aware of her proximity. The January night, though clear and mild, compelled their bodies closer. He felt her thigh against his and realized that their fingers were inches apart. He looked down at her hand, which seemed to twitch when his eyes landed on it. A breeze carried her fruity, feminine smell and lifted the strands of hair away from her face. He studied her profile and noticed, for the first time, a sweet little mole at the peak of her high cheekbone.

  She wasn’t looking at him when she said, “Thanks for the drink. I was just about to call a cab. I’ll see you around.”

  Jaya put her empty wine glass at the side of the bench, beside his beer. Abruptly, she stood.

  It happened quickly. The teetering over high heels and the awkward twist of her upper body. She wobbled and then a sharp hiss came out of her, just as one side of her body seemed to crumple.

  Swear words that would make a pirate proud exploded from Jaya’s pretty mouth when she tried to regain balance. “My ankle,” she shrieked while trying to stand on one leg.

  “Oh, crap,” he said and reached over to help her stabilize. “Sit down before you make it worse.” He didn’t wait for her to obey. Sebastian pulled her over his lap.

  “What are you doing?” she complained.

  “Helping you, woman,” he answered irritably because the cozy weight over his lap and the sharp belligerence of her tone were both grating his nerves. “I can tell you if you need to go to a doctor or if you just need to ice it tonight. I’ve had ankle issues for years.”

  She harrumphed but didn’t contest his expertise. Her body slipped off his lap and settled beside him while her legs laid out over his thighs. As he moved the long skirt up her smooth calf, Sebastian tamped down the effect of that silky fabric against his touch. He slipped off the offending stiletto to have better access to her ankle.

  He held up the shoe and looked at her quizzically. “For someone who admits to being clumsy, these seem rather…”

  “Stupid. I know,” she interjected while she grabbed it from him. “Just tell me how bad it is,” she demanded. And then added, “Thank you.”

  He focused on the joint, feeling for swelling and running his fingers over the ligaments likely affected by a twist. “How does this feel?” he asked, looking at her face while he gently massaged a portion. She shrugged.

  Then, he put pressure on the heel, and she squealed in pain. He made tsk, tsk sounds—mostly to make her bristle with impatience—before offering a diagnosis. “Yeah, yo
u should get crutches tonight. Just to be sure. Nothing broken but it’s probably a second-degree inversion sprain.”

  “Really? I mean, are you sure I can’t just rest it at home?”

  “Jaya, trust me. You’ll want to get this looked at. If you don’t want to go to an emergency room, it isn’t too late to find an urgent care facility now, since it’s not even ten. I’ll take you,” he asserted.

  “No, no. I’ll call a cab.”

  Ignoring her completely, Sebastian lifted her and started walking. She protested by trying to wiggle out of the cradle of his arms. But in response to his tightening hold and wryest expression, she stilled her movements.

  “Put your arms around my neck before I drop you,” he ordered gruffly.

  She sighed and did as she was told. “You left your winter jacket inside,” she observed worriedly, as if aware of his body for the first time.

  “My car is around the corner. I’ll get my jacket tomorrow,” he answered. “How about you? Got everything you need?”

  “Yeah, I do,” she said softly and then chortled.

  “Now what?” he asked, trying to distract himself from the way her breasts, snug against his chest, jiggled slightly at every step.

  “Can you imagine if I left my purse inside and you had to carry me in like this?”

  “Yeah, imagine,” he said blandly, looking down at her face just inches from his own.

  He was struck by the absurdity of carrying a woman whose skin couldn’t be softer and tongue couldn’t be sharper.

  “If someone saw us like this, I think I’d die,” she stated, and Sebastian told himself he didn’t mind the comment. Nope. Not one bit.

  CHAPTER 3

  Jaya woke to the sound of bees. Buzzing bees everywhere. She was swatting her face and neck when she realized it was her phone. With her eyes still closed, she felt for the side button that would mute its annoying noises. Sunday morning, especially after a long night tending to her sprained ankle, was not the best timing for her ancient phone to finally break.