Chasing Dreams

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Author's Note:

Continuation of 67%...

This story will be a fairly simple romance, not to be taken too seriously. I'm hesitant to mark a story as "humor"...what I find amusing may not be amusing to anyone else, you know? And I'm not confident in my ability to write humor specifically. But it is meant to be a light-hearted story, so romance/humor it is.

Many thanks to my beta, breathofocte!

Enjoy!

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Chapter 2: Drawing a Line

She wondered if he was serious. About the dinner. On the off chance that he was going to be showing up for the second time that day, she had jumped in the shower, thrown on a white camisole and her favorite khaki skirt, and was currently trying to tame her hair into something resembling a ponytail. She glowered at her reflection, annoyed with herself that she was making the effort. Primping for the Goblin King, of all people. She shouldn't care what he thought.

It's business, not personal. It was her new mantra. She had been saying it to herself all afternoon and would keep on saying it until it stuck. She twisted the lid back on her mascara, and moved on to lipstick: Magical Moments Mauve.

And he probably wouldn't even show…

"Prettying up for me? Really, Sarah, I'm flattered. And this little white negligee thing is quite fetching." She jumped at the sudden feel of cool leather against her skin as a finger slipped under the strap and down along her shoulder.

She jerked away, turning to glare at the intruder as she slammed her lipstick back down on the counter. "You know, you can't just pop up in my house any time you want. It's this little thing called privacy. And trespassing, for that matter." She took a step forward to escape the bathroom that suddenly felt really very small, but stopped when she realized Jareth was not moving from in front of the doorway. "And I was not 'prettying up' for you, I was simply getting ready like I would for any other day." He was smirking at her and it was infuriating. "Move."

"As you wish." He took a step back so that he was no longer blocking the doorway - entirely.

Sarah glared even harder, if that was possible, before shoving past him and continuing down the hall to her office. She heard him chuckle as he followed. Determined not to let him rattle her, she rolled her shoulders and took a few deep breaths as she gathered up some paperwork, a blank notepad, and a few pencils. She left him waiting as she shoved this all in a messenger bag and shrugged into a raspberry colored cropped jacket, effectively switching from single young woman to business mode. She slipped on some strappy sandals that were lying haphazardly under her desk and turned to face him.

"So, I'm kind of in the mood for Italian. That ok with you?"

He raised his eyebrows slightly at her directness. "Well, I did have something else in mind, but I can let the kitchen know. It may be a little longer of a wait, but they can certainly accommodate your request."

"Whoa. Hold on a sec. If you think I'm letting you poof me into the Underground, you really are out of your mind. If we're doing this dinner thing, we're doing it up here, in a public place, with other normal people around. Capiche?"

Jareth smiled. "Whatever you want, precious." And then he was close. Too close, and his arm was snaking around her waist. "I happen to know just the place."

A small wave of panic crashed over her, her hands instinctively coming up to push against his chest in a feeble attempt at freedom. "Wait - what are you doing?"

He tugged her closer so that her body pressed flush against his, his face inches from her own. "Hold on tight." The whispered words were warm against her lips just before the world fell spiraling down.

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The spinning slowly came to a stop in what felt like only seconds later. She was clinging to him, her arms wrapped around his neck, his arm around her waist supporting her weight. "Careful now, sweetheart." Sarah looked up at the sound of his voice, a smug smile on his face.

Getting her feet back under her, she shoved him away. Bending forward with her eyes closed, she placed her hands on her knees, willing her breath to slow and her stomach to stop turning cartwheels. After a few moments, she shot him a sideways glance. "Don't ever do that again."

He cocked an eyebrow. "Do you plan to walk home? Crossing the Atlantic may prove difficult."

She straightened slowly at this revelation. "Where the hell are we?"

"Italy."

"Lovely," she sighed, exasperated. "Well, at least ask first next time so I can be a little more prepared, please."

"Of course. Whatever you say." He continued to smile at her, still clearly amused. "Although, green is a lovely color on you."

"Shut it, Jareth." She bent to retrieve her bag before looking back at him. "Is this how you treat all your dates?"

His smile widened. "So, this is a date, is it?"

Sarah gritted her teeth, mortified at the slip. "No," she spat. "I was simply inquiring. This is business, not pleasure." He didn't respond, just inclined his head, studying her.

It's business, not personal. She repeated her mantra three more times in her head as she looked away from him to take in her surroundings, relieved that he didn't push the issue.

They were in a darkened alleyway, the air heavily spiced with garlic. Empty cardboard boxes were stacked beside a nondescript door with a small sign that read "Tony's" centered above it. She could just make out the words to Bella Notte piped out from invisible speakers carried softly on the night breeze.

"My, how very…Lady and the Tramp."

"Are you presuming to be a lady in this scenario?" The words came from close behind her.

Sarah spun around to face him. "Well, I guess that depends on how one defines a lady, doesn't it? Either it's the one with the vagina, in which case the answer would be yes, or it could be the one who's wearing the most make-up."

He smiled at her jibe, pointed teeth flashing. "Touché. However, I assure you that I'm not wearing any "make-up". You're welcome to touch, if you'd like."

She realized then that he had surreptitiously backed her up against the wall, and his tone was a smidge more suggestive than she was comfortable with. "No, thanks. I'll take your word for it." She stared at him for a moment, curious despite her words to the contrary. "Um…you're not seriously going into the restaurant like that, are you?"

He laughed out loud at that and grinned at her. "Perhaps not."

He really was way too close. She squirmed slightly to press harder against the wall. "Are you at all familiar with the concept of personal space?"

His smile turned predatory and he leaned in a bit closer, draping one arm against the brick behind her. "Time and space are rather relative in my world, precious."

"Well, they're very definite in mine, and you're invading my dance space. I'm drawing a line here, Goblin King. You have your dance space, and I have mine, and there's this big fat line running down the middle, so don't cross it. This is strictly a business relationship. That's it."

"And I suppose, in your reality, walls can't be walked through, things are always what they seem…and imaginary lines can't be crossed?"

She glared at him. "You really are insufferable."

"And it's 'Jareth', love. I'd like to think we've moved past the formalities. I do like the sound of my name sliding over your tongue and through your lips. It's just such a delicious mental image."

Sarah stared at him, her mouth dropping open. He reached up to close it with a finger under her chin.

"Particularly when you're angry." He smirked at her. "All that passion."

"Gah!" Sarah ducked under his arm and started down the alleyway. "I hate you."

"Don't say things you don't mean, precious. Or did you not learn that lesson from our first meeting?"

She turned around and stalked back to stand defiantly in front of him, close enough to have to tilt her head back to look him in the eye. "Who says I don't mean it? I have every reason in the world to hate you. And I do. It just so happens that your gift has proved lucrative, so I'm willing to put my personal feelings aside to further my business. I suggest you do the same."

He smiled down at her, seemingly unaffected by her outburst. "Perhaps it's time for dinner, then?"

"Yes. Perhaps it is," she snapped. Her ponytail whipped as she turned to start back down the alleyway, only to stop when she felt movement against her hand. She looked down to find pale, aristocratic fingers laced with her own.

"Wrong way, love." He pulled gently so that she turned to face him. She tried to untangle her fingers from his, but he held fast. "Come. I'll show you."

She looked up at him then and paused. He looked…human. Almost. His hair was shorter, but still wild, hanging about his unmarked face in jagged layers. The ruffled shirt and tights had been swapped for a light blue button-down silk shirt tucked into slim-cut dark grey trousers. And he had abandoned the gloves entirely, his skin warm and soft against her hand. He looked…nice.

"Do you like it, Sarah?"

She stared for a moment longer, struggling to find something to say, something she wouldn't regret later. "Well, at least you'll blend in," she said somewhat breathlessly.

He smiled slowly before pulling her to his side and leading her around the corner, the words of the song growing louder as they approached restaurant.

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Author's Note:

Thanks for reading! So, what did you think? Comments and constructive criticism are always appreciated.