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Demi released his hand and di
sappeared into the crowd. Chase stopped. Worried he’d lost her to someone else, he turned around, searching the darkened club for the vibrant beauty. Chase spotted her dancing in front of the bar and sighed in relief. She hadn’t run off with one of the celebrity rappers swaggering around the club; she was singing and swaying to the chart-topping reggae song.
“Oh my goodness!” she screamed, her face alive with happiness. “This is my jam!”
His jaw hit his chest with a thud. Mesmerized by her seductive dance, Chase stared at Demi in awe. Marveled at how she shook her hips, twirled her arms and moved her legs. A spotlight landed on her. She was that good, that charismatic, and soon a crowd gathered around her, cheering wildly.
Damn, he thought, closing his gaping mouth. How did she do that? Was Demi a professional dancer? And, most important, did she do those tricks in the bedroom, too? He deleted the explicit thought from his mind but couldn’t tear his eyes away from her. Demi twerked like a Caribbean dancehall queen and the strong, infectious beat made him want to bump and grind with her. More flexible than a gymnast, she shimmied her shoulders and hips.
“I hope you can keep up,” Demi quipped, draping her arms around his neck. Her low, sultry voice cut through the noise, tickling his ear. Her touch lit a fire in him, caused the baby-fine hair on the back of his neck to stand up. Pressing her breasts against his chest, she rubbed herself against his crotch, arousing his body. They weren’t dancing; they were making out with their clothes on, and her erotic moves weakened him. He pulled her closer to him. His brain yelled Stop! But his hands didn’t get the message. They caressed her shoulders, her hips and thighs. Feeling her sex against his groin gave him an erection, but he didn’t act on his impulses.
They danced to several songs and by the time Chase escorted Demi over to a corner booth, his suit was drenched in sweat. He was tired and his feet ached, but his smile was broad. The guys-only trip to Ibiza couldn’t have come at a better time. His life was an endless stream of early morning meetings, web conferences, business lunches and after-work drinks, and Chase was so stressed out he hadn’t had a good night’s sleep in weeks. The more he agonized about his company’s first-quarter losses, the more overwhelmed he became. Failure wasn’t an option, so when he returned to New York, he was going to do everything in his power to fix Mobile Entertainment—even if it meant increasing his already heavy workload.
Chase put the thought out of his mind. He was in Spain to relax, not stress out about work, and he planned to live it up on the island for the next five days. Ibiza was not only Europe’s version of Las Vegas, it was one of the most thrilling vacation spots in the world, and Chase wanted to experience everything it had to offer. It was full of sun-soaked beaches, magnificent architecture, exceptional restaurants and interesting people—like Demi. She had a presence about her, and everything about her appealed to him.
Demi sat in the booth and Chase took the seat beside her. The nightclub had slow service but they chatted nonstop while they waited for their server to arrive. She had strong opinions about life and her bold, tell-it-like-it-is personality was refreshing. Her beauty defied words and her laugh was infectious, but her smile was her best feature; it wowed him every time.
Out of his peripheral vision, Chase saw his brothers Jonas, Ezekiel and Remington watching him from across the room, and hoped they didn’t sidle up to the booth, talking trash. They seemed to derive great pleasure from embarrassing him in front of beautiful women, especially his twin brother, and Chase was tired of being the butt of his jokes.
His cell phone lit up with text messages from his family, but he ignored them. “Who did you come to Ibiza with and where are you staying?”
“I’m here on business and I’m staying at the Nobu Hotel Ibiza Bay.”
“Small world. So am I. We’ll have to meet at the restaurant for dinner tomorrow night.”
Demi gave him a long, lingering look. One that conjured up explicit thoughts that made him yearn for more than just conversation with her.
The waiter arrived, took their order and left.
“Are you a big fan of Geneviève?” Demi asked, fanning her face with her hands.
“No, but my brothers wanted to party and, since this is the hottest ticket in town, here I am.” Chase stretched out his legs and leaned back comfortably in the booth. “What about you? Are you here to meet the pop star with the killer voice?”
“Absolutely! I’m the biggest Geneviève fan on the planet and this album release party is everything! I love the music, the energy, the vibe of the club and meeting A-list celebrities.”
Chase leaned forward. The club was noisy, making it hard for him to hear what Demi was saying. He wanted to take her somewhere quiet, where they could be alone, and considered inviting her back to his suite at the hotel. Not to have sex, just to talk, but if things turned physical, he wouldn’t mind. He hadn’t been intimate with anyone in months, but he liked the idea of hooking up with the scintillating beauty in the fitted, tangerine dress.
The waiter returned with their order and Chase downed his whiskey in three gulps. Still thirsty, he ordered another then helped himself to one of the chicken wings on the appetizer platter. Once the waiter left, he set his sights back on Demi. “How long are you in Ibiza for?”
“Three more days,” she said, tasting her cocktail. “I leave for the States on Monday.”
“Great. That gives us plenty of time to get to know each other.”
“What part of New York are you from?”
Chase raised an eyebrow. “What makes you think I’m a New Yorker?”
“Everything. Your accent, your swag, your ego,” she teased with a laugh. “I’m from Philly, but I have a condo in the Hamptons, so I consider myself an honorary New Yorker.”
Chase thought of telling Demi about his Southampton estate, but he stopped from divulging personal details about himself and his family. He thought Demi was a cool girl, but if she turned out to be crazy, he didn’t want her to know where he lived or worked. “Since you’re my girlfriend, it’s only fitting you tell me what you do for a living.”
“I do lots of things,” Demi answered with a shrug of her shoulder. “I’m a personal assistant, a beauty and lifestyle expert, and a freelance writer, as well.”
“Wow, you have a lot of jobs! When do you sleep?”
“I don’t, but I have no complaints. What can I say? I love what I do.”
“Likewise,” Chase said. “Computer technology is my life and I look forward to going into the office every day to collaborate with my team.”
