Jessa James - The Baby Mission

“A date? Really?” I say.

“It’s too easy to just go home with a girl and never see her again. Come on, it’ll be good for you.”

“Fuck, all right,” I say, rubbing the back of my neck. “Just promise that you’ll pick someone good.”

His brows rise. “I’m offended that you think I wouldn’t.”

I just grunt and sip my beer. Mason is busy looking around.

“What about her, the blonde in the red miniskirt? She’s my type,” I say.

Mason looks at me, slightly exasperated.

“You said that I got to pick. Besides, I am so bored of the blondes that you bring around. They are, as you say, all exactly the same. Short, skinny, and blonde.” He makes a face. “You need someone a little different. Consider this your palate cleanser.”

“Psshhh,” I say, waving my hand at him. “You complain too much.”

“Shh, let me look.” His brows pull down in concentration. “Ah. How about there? The brunette with the red sweater and the skirt.”

I look where he is looking, and after a second, I spot her. She’s downright academic looking, in an attractive way. She has long hair, just the color of a raven’s wing, and olive-toned skin. A pair of black-rimmed sunglasses rests on her head. She is wearing an oversized red sweater, a black pencil skirt, and a pair of cherry red high heels.

She’s also holding a big black purse and fiddling with her iPhone. She made a sour face suddenly, and started typing something into her phone. The way her thumbs were flying, I could imagine that someone was in trouble.

She looks like she’s smart, but she wouldn’t be into the whole former-jock thing that I have going on. Which is just as well, because she looks like someone who is about to teach me English, not like someone who I’d go on a date with.

“She’s pretty,” I admit. “But she looks boring. Look, her friends are trying to get her to dance. I bet she’ll say no.”

A few seconds later, she politely rebuffed her friends’ entreaties, and she was left alone once more.

“I have a good feeling about her,” Mason says. “She’s definitely the one.”

“Come on, you have to pick someone more interesting,” I say. “Like… anyone else at this party.”

“I thought Jett James could pick up anyone?” he says, a shit-eating grin on his face.

“She looks like she just swallowed a whole lemon.”

“And?” he said. “You said that you were betting court side Hawks tickets on it.”

Fuck . “Alright, alright. I’m going.”

I gave him the stink eye as I push my way through the crowd, heading over to the spot where she leans against the wall. I notice that she taps her foot along with the music, despite looking downright annoyed.

“Excuse me,” I say, stopping in front of her.

She looks up at me, her gray eyes uncertain. “Yes?”

I like her voice, a throaty, velvet purr.

“I just came over here to say that you’re stunning,” I say. I wince a little, as the music suddenly got louder about halfway through my sentence. My words were lost.

She scrunches up her face, which is sort of comical. “What?”

I lean closer to her, and catch a faint whiff of her perfume. “I said, you’re stunning.”

Her expression turns disapproving in a heartbeat. There is a second where I can feel her eyes on me, feel her assessing my clothes and my height, feel her calculating something. She takes in the tattoos that are visible, too. And then I see dismissal in her expression, without knowing me at all.

She’s essentially decided that I’m not worthwhile, based on some kind of metrics that I’m not privy to.

It doesn’t feel good.

“Oh, uhh— thanks?” she says. I can tell that she’s about to end the conversation.

Where’s that famous Jett James charm? I wonder.

“Hey, would you do me a favor?” I say, without really thinking about it. “My ex Emily is here, and she’s sort of slyly watching me. Is it cool if I just pretend that you and I are hitting it off?”

Her eyes have wandered down to her phone screen, but they snap back up to mine. She examines me for another second, her dark grey eyes like watching a gathering storm.

“Ummm…” she says, obviously torn between me and whatever is on her phone.

Damn, am I that uninteresting?

“Sure,” she finally says, but it feels like I’ve only just got her to look at me. Time to be dazzling, I guess.

I grin at her, moving a little closer. “You’d tell me if this fake relationship was inconveniencing you, right?”

I see her worry her lip a little and furrow her brow. She doesn’t mean to, but she shifts towards me very slightly. I take that to mean that my smile worked.

I’m in , I think.

“So I just say the word, and you back off?” she asks, keeping things light.

“Sure. I’m hoping you won’t, though. Only to spare me the embarrassment.” I put my hand over my heart, but stop shy of giving her a pleading face.

She seems to take that at face value, nodding.

“Alright. Which one is she?” she asks, looking around the party.

Shit. I should’ve been prepared for this. I scan the crowd, looking for someone who looks vaguely like Emily.

“Uhhh… she’s over there,” I say, nodding to a pretty, skinny blonde by the exit door. “In the black romper thing.”

“Ah,” she says, nodding. “She’s pretty.”

I pull a face, and she goes pink.

“Sorry,” she says. “I would ask why you guys aren’t an item anymore, but I don’t want to pour salt on the wounds.”

“You can make it up to me, I’m sure,” I say with a smile.

Her eye roll is particularly epic. My smile turns into a grin. I take a sip of my beer, which is pretty stale and warm by now.

I look over my shoulder to see what Mason is doing, but he’s nowhere to be seen. Fucker .

When I look back, she is frowning at her phone screen again, her brow puckered. Shit, she is losing interest again. Why the fuck did Mason have to pick her?

I need a new approach .

“Hey, what’s so interesting on your phone?” I ask.

She looks up at me. “An email from my boss. I’m a lawyer, and my boss is a little verbose. Try as I might, I can’t make heads or tails of this email.”

I cock my head. How should I tackle this? I guess I haven’t tried being blunt yet…

“Can I ask you a question?” I say.

“Sure. Ask away,” she says, turning the screen of her phone off. She looks at me.

I lean in, dropping my voice low, using the full force of my dark blue eyes. “Do you have a boyfriend, or a husband?”

She blushes, the pale pink tinging her high cheekbones. “No.”

“Okay. How about this, then? You put your phone away for twenty minutes, and let me be entertaining.”

The pale pink spreads out to her cheeks. “Alright…” she says hesitantly.

She drops her phone into her handbag with a satisfying thunk. I grin and stick out my hand.

“Jett James.”

“Cady Ellis,” she says. Her handshake is firm, domineering even.

I get a mental image of me dominating her in bed, and her fighting it for every second until she’s screaming my name. A lick of heat stirs my cock.

It’s in that moment that I decide that I like her.

“A pleasure,” I assure her. “It looks like you’re done with your drink. How about we go over to the bar and get another one?”

“Oh, I don’t know… I have to work tomorrow…” she says. But I can tell that she wants another drink, wants the excuse to flirt.

“Come on. One more drink,” I say, offering her my hand. I wink at her. “Our relationship needs some spice.”

She rolls her eyes, but allows me to guide her to the bar. I order a whiskey neat for myself, and she orders a vodka with a little soda and extra lime slices.