Rhythms of Love. Beverly Jenkins

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Rhythms of Love - Beverly Jenkins Mills & Boon Kimani

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waved and Reggie smiled in response, but the jaw-dropping sight of Jamal Reynolds entering on Trina’s heels almost made Reggie lose her place on the piano keys. How in the world? Focusing on the faces of the kids in an effort to calm herself, she did her best to concentrate on the music and not on the tall, dark and handsome man standing by the door, but it was hard.

      As the rehearsal continued, Jamal and Trina took seats on chairs positioned a short distance away from where the kids were practicing. Sitting quietly, an enthralled Jamal watched and listened. He couldn’t decide which was more impressive, the voices of the choir or the musical skills of the woman seated at the piano. He knew her name now—Regina Vaughn. From a producer’s point of view, the name had a good sound. Trina had described her as about five foot three, ponytail, cute little body, and that was in her favor, too. He could already envision her draped in a gorgeous gown on stage. He noted the flawless autumn-brown skin and ran his eyes over her erect posture at the piano. He could tell by the way she was beaming at the students that she loved what she was doing.

      This wasn’t what he’d expected when Trina invited him to tag along. She’d told him Regina volunteered at a school on her days off, and he assumed that meant in a custodial capacity. Was he ever wrong. He was blown away by her expertise on the keys and the way she directed the children’s intonation and pace. Regina Vaughn was multifaceted; something else he found surprising. Where he came from people were about one thing—getting that break and making it to the top by any means necessary. No one he knew had ever volunteered their time to work with an elementary school’s choir unless there was something in it for them, but that didn’t appear to be the case here. She seemed genuinely enthused.

      He also noted that after initially making eye contact with him upon his entrance she hadn’t looked his way again, not even once. More accustomed to women clamoring for his attention, he was beginning to see that a man’s ego was not Ms. Regina Vaughn’s priority, and he kind of liked that. A rousing rendition of “Wade in the Water” ended the rehearsal. Before the children could disperse, Reggie stood and asked, “What time does the concert start tomorrow?”

      Twenty-five kids answered as one. “Seven.”

      “And what time are you supposed to report to the music room?”

      “Five-thirty.”

      She cupped her hand around her ear. “I didn’t hear you.”

      Giggling, they shouted, “Five-thirty!”

      “Great. I’ll see you tomorrow. You sang like angels today.”

      The grinning kids grabbed up their coats and backpacks and headed out the door. Only after they were all gone did Reggie turn to Trina and Jamal. “Trina, can I talk to you outside for a minute?”

      Trina told Jamal, “If she kills me, my flatirons go to my cousin down in Atlanta.”

      Reggie rolled her eyes. “Will you excuse us for a moment, Mr. Reynolds?”

      He gave her a nod and she led Trina out into the hallway.

      “What the hell are you doing with him?”

      “He wanted to see you again, so I obliged. All he could talk about was you. Promised him I’d hook you two up.”

      “And suppose I don’t want to be hooked up?”

      “Do you know who he is?” Trina asked as if she couldn’t believe they were even having this conversation.

      And before Reggie could respond, Trina went on a two-minute tear, ticking off a verbal list of all the singers he’d worked with. “And that’s just the folks I know about from reading Essence and People. Not only is the man gorgeous, but he really can make you a star, Reg.”

      Reggie sighed. “Trina, you know I don’t want anything to do with the music business.”

      “I do,” she said with sincerity, “but I also know that you’re wasting what the good Lord gave you and it’s gotta stop. Think how much you could do for Gram if you had some real cash to work with. Think about this school. You owe it to yourself to at least hear him out.”

      “No, I don’t.”

      “Well, you’re going to have to. It’s not like you can snap your fingers and make him disappear.” Trina’s phone sounded and she fished in her big black tote until she found it. Opening it, she read the message and said to Reggie, “It’s Brandon. He’s outside.” Brandon was Trina’s current man du jour and owner of the building where she styled hair on the weekends.

      While Reggie looked on, Trina texted him back a reply. Done, she looked up. “Gotta go. He’s taking me to dinner.”

      “You’re leaving?”

      “Yep.” Trina gave her a quick peck on the cheek, followed by “Love you,” and hurried down the hall in her high-heeled boots toward the doors. “Keep an open mind!’ she called back.

      Reggie couldn’t believe this. Outdone, she glanced back at the gym doorway and there he stood, dressed in all black and looking like a man out of GQ magazine.

      “Guess it’s just me and you, huh?”

      His low-toned voice vibrated through her like a softly plucked bass string. His disarming smile didn’t help. She fought to keep herself focused. “Did the two of you plan this?”

      “Not that I know of.”

      Reggie understood that Trina thought she was doing the right thing by hooking this up but…

      “I just want to talk to you, Ms. Vaughn. That’s all.”

      “I thought you were flying back to L.A. today?”

      “I am. Taking the red-eye.”

      He was persistent, she had to give him that. Dark-chocolate gorgeous, too, an inner voice crooned. She pushed that aside. It was also obvious that he wasn’t going to go away until he had his say, so to hasten that, she said, “Okay. You can talk to me on the walk home.”

      “How about we take my car. It’s out front.”

      “You’re a stranger, Mr. Reynolds. We walk or we don’t talk.”

      Tough lady, Jamal noted admiringly. She was right about him being a stranger, no getting around that. However, it was freezing outside. Being a Californian, he wasn’t accustomed to temperatures in the twenties, and he was not looking forward to being out in the cold, even for a short walk. But to allay her fears, and to keep her from rescinding her offer, he agreed. “We walk.”

      “Fine. Let me get my coat.”

      Moments later she returned wearing a long blue down coat, a bulky knit hat and gloves. He had a coat, too, but it was lightweight cashmere, more suited for show than warmth, and it was in the town car. “Mind if I get my coat?”

      “Nope.” That said, she walked off down the hall toward the doors.

      Shaking his head with amused amazement, Jamal hurried to catch up.

      Jamal was freezing. So far, they’d only walked a short distance, but his feet in the fancy, black

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