Ain’t nothin’ like that at all. Classy lady like you brings out the melody in a man. Sometimes,” he added. “So don’t get no wild ideas in your head.” His eyes crinkled, and she smiled in return.
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
And Quinn thought about the fact that he’d never told her his last name. So she’s been askin’ about me. Nice.
He pulled up in front of the building where she worked exactly two hours later. He turned off the engine. They sat in silence for several moments.
Now what? Should she just thank him and get out? What if he tried to kiss her? She knew she probably tasted like some kind of spice and peppers. But then again, so did he. If he tried, she was going to let him.
He unfastened his seat belt and angled toward her, draping his arm along the back of her seat. His fingers played across her exposed neck.
Uh-oh.
“So why don’t you give me your number and I can call you sometime?”
“Is that another question or a command?”
The corner of his mouth curved up in a grin. “A question, your high-ness.”
“In that case, I guess I can give you my number so you can call me sometime.” She dug in her purse, found a pen, and tore off a piece of paper from her pocket notebook and wrote down her number. “That’s the number at my office.”
He took the paper and checked out the number, then stuck it between the sun visor and the roof of the car.
“Got a man at home that’s gonna get ticked if I call you?” he teased, fishing.
“No.”
“What if I feel like hearin’ your voice after hours?”
“One day at a time. Remember?” She smiled, closed her purse and pressed the button to release the lock on her door. “Thanks for lunch.” She got out of the car, shut the door behind her and trotted up the steps, giving him one last look at her legs.
“Thank you, Nikita Harrell,” he whispered, watching her disappear beyond the door. “Thank you.”
Chapter 6
From Here to There
Once again Parris was out of town, and Nikita desperately needed someone to talk with. She sat up in bed and dialed Jewel’s number. They’d met several years earlier when Jewel’s lifetime partner, Taj, started working at Nick’s club. Although Jewel was at least eight years older, they’d become fast friends. Jewel’d had her own battles to wage when she met and fell in love with her much younger mate. She’d bucked the odds and the comments, and come out on top. Next to Parris and Nick, there wasn’t a couple more perfect than Taj and Jewel. All she could hope for was to find the same kind of happiness one day.
The phone rang three times before Jewel’s eighteen-year-old daughter, Danielle, picked up.
“Hey, Dani. It’s Nikita.”
“Hi, Aunt Niki. How are ya?”
“Just fine.” Nikita laughed. She was tickled every time Danielle called her “Aunt.” Jewel had a strict rule in her house: adults were addressed as Ms. or Mr. so-and-so, or they were inducted into the family as honorary aunts or uncles, an African practice. Nikita had opted for family status.
“How’s everything with school?”
“My second year at Howard was phat! I had a ball, and the most gorgeous men—chocolate-chip heaven with a little macadamia for variety.”
Nikita laughed along with Danielle. “Sounds good, but what about your classes?”
“Oh, those. I aced them. No prob.”
Danielle had been an above “A” student since grammar school, skipped grade levels twice and received a full four-year scholarship to Howard.
“Keep it up. I know your mother is proud.”
“She oughta be. Maintaining my social calendar and a 4.0 ain’t easy.” She chuckled.
“I can imagine. Where is the lady of the house?”
“She just got out of the shower. Hang on, I’ll get her. Take it easy, Aunt Nik. Come out and see me before I go back.”
“I’ll try.”
A few moments later Jewel’s softly Southern voice came on the line.
“Hey, girl. It’s been too long. How are you?”
“Pretty good. Just needed some girl talk.”
“In that case, let me assume the girl talk position.” Jewel fluffed two oversize down pillows behind her, crossed her legs and sat back. “All right, who is he?”
“Why does it have to be a he? Maybe I’m just calling to get your opinion on a new outfit.”
“Girl, pleeze. I know good and well you didn’t make this toll call from Long Island to Connecticut to ask me about some clothes. Unless we’re trying to devise a way to keep that thieving Parris out of our closets!”
They both erupted in a fit of laughter, thinking of all the missing items that mysteriously turned up on Parris’s long, lean body.
“Yeah, Parris thinks she’s in Paris when she shops at my house,” Nikita said, chuckling.
“I just don’t understand it,” Jewel continued. “Girl makes enough money to buy her own department store.”
“Don’t I know it. But she says it keeps her close to us because she’s away all the time. She keeps a little piece of us with her.”
“I know,” Jewel replied, sobering. “Whatever helps. I know I couldn’t lead that kind of life for all the money in the world. I need roots.”
“That’s the truth. At least she has a man who understands and accepts her lifestyle.”
“Which brings me back to my original question—who is he? And take as long as you want to tell me all about him. It’s your quarter.”
Nikita took a breath. “Well, his name is Quinten Parker…”
“So, you have nothing in common. He acts and talks like the characters in that Sugar Hill movie with Wesley Snipes. You’re not sure what he does for a living and don’t want to think about it, and you can’t wait to see him again. That about right?” Jewel brushed another coat of clear polish on her toes.
“Gosh, Jewel, you don’t have to make it sound like that.” The scenario did sound rather awful.
“If it’s not like that, then tell me what it is like. I mean, be real and tell me.”
Nikita took a long, thoughtful breath. “I know he represents everything I’ve been told to stay away
