the idea for the interview and a way to get back at her.
Tamara looked much younger than her thirty-two years and from the looks of it, wore her shoulder-length hair natural and without chemicals, the warm brown color complimenting her light chocolate complexion and hazel-green eyes.
She’s still beautiful, he thought to himself.
Micah forced himself to remember the way she had treated him. A computer science major in college, he was the quiet, shy geek who tutored Tamara in math during her freshman year—their friendship birthed out of the tutoring sessions.
He had always thought Tamara was sweet, caring and felt extremely comfortable around her. Micah had even believed that she thought of him as more than a tutor. During their time in college, Micah never once saw signs of Tamara being a snob or elitist—she had always been down-to-earth.
His mouth tightened as he thought about graduation night—the night that Micah made the mistake of confessing his feelings for her. He had even planned to propose marriage; however, he never got that far.
Tamara rejected Micah, telling him directly that she would never date anyone like him. She didn’t need him to tutor her anymore. She had landed a job with the Atlanta Daily Journal so she had no more use for him.
It was then that Micah realized he did not know her as well as he had initially thought. He never knew she held even the tiniest interest in writing. Micah knew that she kept a journal, but to him that did not necessarily mean she wanted to be a writer.
It had come as a complete surprise when Tamara announced she was going to work as an entry-level journalist with the newspaper. Her degree was in business and not journalism.
If they had been as close as Micah thought they were, why would she keep her love for writing a secret? What else had she been keeping from him?
Micah Ross was fine.
Tamara laid a back issue of Ebony with Micah gracing the cover down on the chair beside her.
She kept that issue on her coffee table since its release two years ago.
Micah pretty much looked as he did back in college except that he no longer wore those black-framed glasses that Tamara used to think were so sexy on him.
His skin was the color of dark chocolate, smooth and free of facial hair. Those dark brown eyes of his were so intense that she believed they could pierce through stone.
Her heart raced at the prospect of seeing him again.
“I’ve got to talk to you,” she whispered to his likeness on the magazine. “Micah, I feel bad about the things I said to you on graduation night. I really hope you’ll give me a chance to apologize and explain why I reacted that way.”
I never should have listened to those other boys. I realize that now.
The telephone rang.
Tamara checked the caller ID before answering. “Hello, Mama.”
“Sweetie, are you busy right now?”
“No, what’s up?”
“I’m here at Lexington’s Restaurant. Since it’s right down the street from your neighborhood, why don’t you come have dinner with me?”
“Give me ten minutes,” Tamara told her. “I’ll be there.”
“See you then,” Jillian stated.
Tamara went into her bathroom to freshen up. She looked down at her jeans and decided on impulse to change clothes. Her mother would be dressed up—Jillian was always dressed in designer suits and expensive shoes.
I’ve never seen my mother in a pair of jeans or a sweat suit, she thought with amusement. Dressing down for Jillian meant a pair of khakis or linen pants.
Tamara changed into a black linen sundress, silver sandals and accessories. She knew that her mother would approve, as the dress was a gift from her.
She arrived at the restaurant fifteen minutes later.
Her mother was already seated. Tamara almost turned around and left when she realized that her mother was not alone.
I should have known she was up to something.
Jillian didn’t care much for Lexington’s but came here because she knew that Tamara was less likely to refuse her since it was only a couple blocks away from her apartment.
“Hello, Mama.” The greeting was forced at best.
Tamara was furious with her mother for hijacking her into a blind date.
“Dear, I want you to meet Anthony. His mother and I went to high school together. He just moved to Atlanta, and I thought you two should meet. Anthony, this is my daughter Tamara.”
She plastered on a smile. “It’s nice to meet you, Anthony.”
Tamara sent her mother a sharp look as she took a seat.
“So, Anthony, what brings you to Atlanta?” she asked.
“I’ll be working at Fitzgerald & Johnson Industries as lead counsel,” he said. “Your mother tells me that you write for Luster magazine.”
“I do,” she confirmed.
Tamara was struggling to keep her temper in check. Why couldn’t Jillian just mind her own business? She didn’t need her mother’s help in getting a man.
She managed to enjoy herself while they ate. Anthony had a wonderful sense of humor, and he could hold an intelligent conversation on several subjects. He was definitely an improvement over the last one her mother had tried to set Tamara up with.
Anthony asked for her number.
Feeling pressured, Tamara gave it to him. If she hadn’t, her mother would have given it to him anyway.
Jillian excused herself to go to the ladies’ room.
She was about to follow her, but Anthony stopped her.
“Tamara, look, it’s no pressure. Let’s just get through this dinner to appease our mothers.”
She gave him the first genuine smile of the evening. “You have one of those interfering mothers, too?”
Anthony nodded. “I’m in a relationship, but she doesn’t think Rochelle is the woman for me. I know what I want and that is Rochelle. However, I hope that the three of us can get together sometime. Maybe we can all become friends.”
“I’d like that, Anthony.”
He paid the bill, then told Jillian that he had to leave.
“Tamara, I know that you’re upset,” she said when Anthony walked out of the restaurant. “But I saw the way you two were interacting.” She broke into a smile. “Admit it. Don’t you like him just a little bit?”
“Yeah,
