Chapter 8

Rielle vaguely heard the steel band music strike up and knew she needed to get back to the table but they were still touching, she couldn’t seem to break contact with him. She saw him frown as she tried and K.C. Whitfield turned her hand over, looked down at her fingers and then released her slowly.

Oh Lord she had a serious case of wet panty syndrome that she hadn't experienced even with her boyfriend who had been seriously cute. What was standing in front of her was a man not a boy and he was way more than cute he was hot and she recognized that fact.

K.C. had seen the shapely beauty when she entered the restaurant and it was as if a spotlight was shining down on her. His body had tensed as if for a blow and the adrenaline had flowed through his veins as blood rushed to his groin and he had felt arousal for the first time in months.

He had waited to see if a man would come in behind her but then she spotted someone at the bar. K.C. watched the smile that lit up her whole face and his eyes had narrowed wondering who the lucky bastard was even as he wanted to know what color her eyes were.

He had seen the three attractive women earlier talking and laughing together at the bar as had his boys but it was only when she had come in and joined them that he found himself really paying attention. She wore a purple dress that gave him and anyone else who was looking at her a glimpse of her plump breasts, small waist and skimmed over her hips and K.C. had shifted to adjust himself discreetly.

Rielle’s full mouth pulled up into a tentative smile while he continued to gaze down at her and she said quietly, “It was nice to meet you Mr. Whitfield. I hope you enjoy your stay on St. Sebastian.”

“I’m sure that I will now Ms. Hall. It is Ms. Hall isn’t it?” He asked smoothly wanting to verify her marital status.

He watched her eyes flare as he waited patiently for an answer.

“Um, yes it is. Have a good evening Mr. Whitfield, please excuse me.”  She replied in a low voice and turned away. She took a deep breath as she concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other clutching at her bag with both hands. 

Rielle could feel him staring at her all the way back to the table and was fervently glad she hadn’t worn a taller heel or she would have been fallen on her face. She knew she had sounded flustered but the truth was there was something about K.C. Whitfield that had her wanting to see if that sexy mouth was as good as it looked.

Girl you have been hanging out too long with women if just a hand shake from a man has got you all shaky like this, Gabrielle thought shaking her head. But she had sublimated her sex drive for so long focusing on finishing her education, the Olympics and then coming back home to teach that she had forgotten what a relationship was like much less sex.

Damn, too bad her favorite home shopping channel didn't sell a wand or rabbit or something she could really use one. Her girls would probably tease her no end knowing she had an admirer and she was thinking about going solo, no way was she going to tell them. 

Gabrielle made her way back to the table on trembling legs, glad to sit down. She was quiet as she finished her meal listening to the other women talk about how their day had gone but she was mindful of the fact that they were being observed. She could feel eyes on her.  

K.C.’s eyes followed the seductive sway of her hips as she walked away and a small smile pulled up his mouth. He took a deep breath, her perfume a clean, beachy fragrance that teased his nostrils, filled his lungs and made him want to smell Ms. Hall up close and personal.

He was going to make it his mission to see Gabrielle again and get to know her a lot better.

Michael and Jarrod had seen the young woman get up and K.C. follow and they looked at each other speculatively when he came back shortly after she did.

The steel pan music was smoothly replaced with soca music, a type soul calypso that was faster paced and made for dancing as most diners finished their meals and the emcee came on stage to begin the show.

“So is the lady as pretty up close as she is from afar?” Michael asked jumping in with both size fourteens.

“Her name is Gabrielle Hall and no gentlemen she isn’t pretty. She’s gorgeous and just what I’m looking for to ease my heartache as well as another ache a little lower.” K.C. said, his sandy brows raising as he remembered the innocent look in her wide eyes and his lips curved into a predatory smile.

His hand splayed on his broad chest and he saw Jarrod shake his head as the words left his mouth.

“She is also a nice kid K.C. she may have the face and body of a playmate but I’ve met her and she isn’t up to your sophisticated games.” The other man warned before taking a sip of his gin and tonic.

“You say that like I’m the Marquis de Sade or something Jarrod I just want to get to know her a little better.” He protested suavely.

“The look on your face when you went after her said you want to get to know her a whole hell of a lot better bro. You looked like a wolf on the hunt or a dog on the prowl.” Michael chimed in wondering why Jarrod would be trying to cockblock.

K.C. had seen his share of stunning women and had slept with a few but never had he seen someone like Gabrielle. It wasn't like Jarrod to squash his game like this. 

“She’s a beautiful woman not a child, man you would think she’s under aged or some shit.” K.C. replied and saw his friend’s mouth tighten as he tossed back the rest of his drink and signaled a waiter.

K.C. looked over at the four women before turning back to his friend whose attention was studiously on the dancers coming onto the large stage.

They wore colorful, skimpy costumes similar to the ones that were worn during their Carnival, a two week cultural party that began on the fifth of July.

K.C. might have let the subject drop as he sat back in his chair but then he noticed the way Jarrod kept looking at the other table where the women were seated.

“Wait a minute; this isn’t about me is it? You damned hypocrite you’ve been coming down here a lot lately. Are you seeing one of those women?” he asked grimly over the fast paced music.

He had kept his voice low and leaned back in so that the conversation was still private and he watched Jarrod's reaction closely. K.C. knew he had hit the nail on the head when his friend’s jaw clenched and his eyes darkened.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He growled the denial his English accent more pronounced and K.C. knew he wasn’t wrong.