Читать книгу Rhythms of Love: You Sang to Me / Beats of My Heart - Beverly Jenkins, Beverly Jenkins - Страница 10

Reggie was whipped from having worked all day, but the moment she walked into the school and saw her kids all dressed up, and their proud parents standing beside them, the weariness melted away. The excitement in the air and in their young faces was contagious.

After stashing her coat and purse in the school’s office, she and the principal, Dr. Baldwin, reviewed the night’s program. When they were certain they knew how things would flow, Reggie hurried off to the gym to make sure everything was in place. She swept critical eyes over the risers the children would be standing on, the many chairs fanned out around the area for the audience to sit in and the positioning of her piano. Everything appeared to be in place, so she headed down to the music room where the kids and their parents were gathering.

She was wearing her good dress; a simple, long-sleeved black dress with a hemline that brushed her ankles. It fit her curves well yet flowed freely enough for her to be comfortable in. On her feet were her black, high-heeled boots, and around her neck, her mother’s pearls. It was the dress she also wore to funerals, graduations and sometimes to church. Tonight it was concert attire.

Most of the kids were already in their seats. The others had ten more minutes to show up and she prayed no one would be late.

When Jamal arrived, there were only a few open seats left in the dimly lit gymnasium. He had no idea how many students attended the school but it appeared that families and friends had turned out in full force. He spotted Trina waving at him from across the room. He’d called her earlier to let her know he’d be attending, and she’d promised to save him a seat.

As he made his way, he could feel the eyes. His expensive clothing and bearing pegged him as an outsider, but he shrugged it off and nodded polite greetings to some of the older ladies as he passed by. They smiled back and nudged each other, whispering and giggling.

He took the open seat next to Trina. She introduced him to the woman seated beside him. She was older and sported beautiful gray dreads. “Jamal Reynolds. Reggie’s grandmother, Crystal Vaughn.”

Jamal paused. Leave it to Trina to catch him off guard. “Hello. Nice to meet you.”

“Same here,” the woman politely responded.

Her grandmother. He remembered Regina referencing her while they were walking home last night. He wondered how much Regina had told her about him. Knowing her, probably nothing.

But the question was set aside as the children filed in and took their places on the risers. Some were dressed in suits and Sunday dresses while others wore jeans and T-shirts. Ringing applause greeted their arrival. When the smiling Regina entered next, the applause increased in both volume and enthusiasm. Jamal took it as a signal of how much she was appreciated. The sight of her with her hair down and makeup on, and all dressed up in the figure-skimming black dress with jewelry around her neck made him sit up straighter so he could get a better look. The first time he met her, she’d been wearing a shapeless gray housekeeping dress. Yesterday, jeans and a coat and hat that made her look like a brown-skinned Inuit. Tonight, she was hot. Her beauty was on full display and he couldn’t decide where to look first. The gleaming shoulder-length hair grabbed his attention as did the soft lines of her shoulders and arms. He found the sultry sweet curves of her breasts and hips captivating, but her mouth, highlighted with a muted toned lipstick, looked ripe enough to eat.

Her grandmother whispered, “She’s gorgeous, isn’t she?”

“Oh, yes, ma’am,” he heard himself reply. Every fiber of his being was focused on Regina in a way he’d never focused on any woman before. Watching her gracefully take her seat on the piano bench, he realized he was rock hard. He shifted his folded coat over his lap to cover the evidence, but never took his eyes off the cause.

For the next hour, the audience in the gymnasium was treated to an outstanding performance. Some of the selections were slow and pure, like “Peace Be Still,” while a few songs by Kirk Franklin rocked the house. During the intermission, the school principal, a short brown woman named Dr. Baldwin, came out and made a poignant plea for financial support. She pointed out the lack of books, instruments and even working lightbulbs in the ceiling above their heads. She also spoke of all the academic awards the students had achieved in spite of being taught in a building that on some days seemed to be on the verge of crumbling. Her words were so moving and so passionate Jamal just wanted to know who to write a check out to. Music was his love and his life. Helping out a place that nurtured and celebrated that art was a no-brainer. After that he’d ask Dr. Baldwin how he might help in any other ways. He also planned to research Madame Sissieretta Jones, the woman for whom the school was named. He’d never heard of her, but she was a musical legend he needed to know.

He wanted to know Regina Vaughn, too; not intimately, although seeing her tonight made that statement a lie. For now, he chose to focus on knowing who she was inside. She was tough, intelligent and most of all intriguing, but what made her tick? Did she have a man? Children? Were her parents still living? There was so much he didn’t know. Watching her leading the choir in the last selection, he thanked the fates for bringing him to Detroit.

After the program ended Reggie toured the gym, praising her students and receiving praise in return from their families and friends. People were talking, taking pictures and setting up the table for the potluck. In the midst of the noisy madness, she took a moment to try to spot her grandmother in the crowded gym. She saw her over by the buffet table. Trina was with her and in between them stood Jamal Reynolds. As if cued, he looked up and into Reggie’s eyes. He held her there as if by magic and she swore she couldn’t have moved had she wanted to. Her grandmother called him a door, but Reggie had the overwhelming sense that if she turned the knob, there would be more inside than music. He exuded a maleness that was as charged as a downed power line and it filled her with the current. Just looking at him made her warm and want. Mentally shaking herself, she broke the contact. Praying he’d stay on his side of the gym, she turned her attention back to the students and parents.

He didn’t of course. In fact, when she looked up, he was walking toward her carrying two food-filled plates. Everybody in the place was watching. He, however, had eyes only for her, and the depth she read in them made her heart pound.

When he reached her side, she told him, “There are stalking laws in Michigan.”

He gave her a muted smile. “Really.” He handed her the plate.

She took it and the silverware. “Thought you were taking the red-eye.”

“Changed my mind.”

In his intense gaze, Reggie saw everything a woman could ever want to see in a man’s eyes, and the knowledge that he wasn’t hiding it scared her to death. She noticed her grandmother and Trina watching them, too. When her grandmother smiled approvingly and raised a forkful of greens in silent salute, Reggie playfully shook her head and refocused on Jamal. “How about we find a seat.”

“Lead the way.”

She chose two empty chairs near the risers.

Once they were settled, they started in on their plates. The food was good and Reggie was famished.

“Did you have to work today?”

“I did, and I’m looking at a six o’clock start in the morning.”

“Hardworking lady.”

“Tell me about it.”

“If I want to write a check to help out the school, who should I make it out to?”

“The school. Why are you writing a check?”

“This is a fundraiser right?”

“Well, yeah, but—”

And before she could ask, he said reassuringly, “And I’m not doing it just to impress you.”

“You knew I was going to ask that.”

“I did.”

“Smart and cute. Who’d’ve ever thought?”

He laughed. She did, too.

“I want to do it because music is my thing, and if I can help a school with kids that love it as much as I do, I’m all over it. I mentor a couple of schools in L.A.”

Reggie studied the serious set of his features and responded sincerely, “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

With the current humming in them both, they went back to eating.

An hour later, the food was packed up, the gym cleaned and everyone said their goodbyes. Trina hurried off to meet Brandon, leaving Reggie outside with her grandmother and Jamal. It was 9:00 p.m. and just starting to snow.

Crystal asked, “Mr. Reynolds, would you like to stop by for coffee?”

“Thank you, but I know Regina has to work in the morning.”

Cute, smart and considerate, Reggie thought to herself. She liked that and so she told him, “You can come, but let’s go. It’s cold out here.” The wind was starting to pick up.

“I had my car drop me off. Let me call the driver.”

“By the time he gets here, we could be home.”

So once again, the ill-dressed Jamal found himself walking through the frigid Detroit night.

Being California born and raised, snow was something Jamal rarely encountered and it was coming down like cold white rain. The wind blew stinging pellets of the stuff into his face, so he pulled his unbuttoned coat closer and hurried up the steps to the Vaughns’ porch.

The wind was howling now. While he waited for Regina to undo all the locks, he shivered as the cold cut through his pants legs as if he was naked.

Blessedly, the interior was warm. Once the doors were locked, he asked still shivering, “Is this weather normal for April?”

“April’s never normal,” Reggie pointed out. “This is Michigan. Let me take your coat.”

He handed it over but he couldn’t seem to shake the shivers.

“Welcome to our home, Mr. Reynolds,” her grandmother said, handing Reggie her coat, too. “Reg, take him in the living room and park him by the radiator so he can thaw out. I’ll get the coffee started.”

With a smile, she disappeared into the kitchen.

Jamal followed Reggie into the small living room. By his L.A. standards, the place was tiny. Living room, dining room, kitchen and maybe a small bathroom somewhere in the back. Bedrooms upstairs, he guessed. The furniture was worn but proudly polished. The beautiful framed abstract art hanging on the walls immediately caught his eye. The work, filled with muted reds and blues, was outstanding and he wondered who the artist might be even as he continued to shake from the cold.

“Radiator’s there.” She pointed at what appeared to be a bunch of pipes resembling an opened accordion.

Puzzled, he studied it. As he moved closer, he could feel heat but wasn’t sure how it was being transmitted.

She must have seen the confusion on his face. “You don’t know what a radiator is?”

“In California, we don’t need things like this.”

“Runs off steam. Hold your hands above it like this.”

Jamal mimicked her motion. The soft heat that bathed his hands made him groan with relief. “Oh, that’s good.”

She cracked a smile.

He liked her smile. He also liked the way she looked this evening. The simple black dress flowed around her like a song, giving her a sophistication and a polish that seemed to ramp up her natural beauty. He forced his eyes away from the strand of pearls draped sinuously around her throat because all he could think about was her wearing them while nude in his bed. “I like the paintings. Who’s the artist?”

“Gram. She did them as part of her rehab after her stroke. She didn’t want them framed, but I thought they were too good to be just tossed out.”

“When was the stroke?”

“About fifteen years ago.”

“Do you think I could commission her to do one for me?”

She shrugged. “You can ask.”

He studied the woman he was developing a craving for. “Are you sure you’re okay with me being here tonight? Six is early.”

“It is, but I’m okay.”

He had no way of knowing if she was telling the truth, but he was glad to have any amount of time with her, even if it was just long enough to drink a cup of coffee. He searched his mind for a topic that would keep her talking to him. “I like your hair down.”

“Thanks. Trina does it. Nothing like having your best friend be a hairdresser. What’s your best friend do to pay the bills?”

The question caught him off guard. “Hmm. Let’s see.” He mentally went down the list of people he could call friend, but decided none qualified as best. “Don’t have one.”

Her face showed confusion. “Everybody has a best friend.”

He shrugged. “I don’t.”

“Why not?”

“Got my music. It’s the only friend I need.”

“What about family? Brothers, sisters?”

Again he shrugged. “Don’t have any of those either, far as I know.”

“What?”

“Raised in foster care.”

“Ah. Okay. Didn’t mean to be so nosy.”

“No problem. It’s a natural question.”

Reggie still felt bad. She’d never known anyone who didn’t have family somewhere, even if it was jail. How had that affected him growing up? she wondered. She decided she’d been nosy enough for one night, so she kept the question to herself. She looked at him looking back at her from where he stood by the radiator, and there in the quiet of her grandmother’s living room, Jamal Reynolds became more real.

“Coffee’s ready,” Gram called out.

Jamal’s feet had finally thawed, so he gestured for Reggie to go first. “After you.”

As she led the way, he watched the siren sway of her dress-covered hips, and all he could do was shake his head and say to himself, My, my, my.

Reggie sensed he was checking her out and her inner awareness of him amped up a few more notches. His eyes had been on her all evening; sometimes teasing, sometimes serious, but always there. It wasn’t something she was accustomed to. There was also the looming question of whether he was really interested in her or if this was just a game to get her to say yes to his proposal. She didn’t like that second part and so reminded herself that she’d only met him a few days ago. She also reminded herself that even though her grandmother had given him her stamp of approval, she knew her grandmother; Crystal Vaughn had a lot more questions. Jamal may have thought this was just a polite invitation to coffee, but he was about to learn why Reggie and Trina had nicknamed her The Grand Inquisitor.

After they took seats at the kitchen table and fixed their coffees to their likings, Reggie, sipping on a mug of decaf tea, sat back and watched.

“Mr. Reynolds, Reggie and Trina say you’re a producer. Would I know any of the names you’ve worked with?” Crystal asked.

He ran down some of the names Reggie had seen on his Web page, and again, it was an impressive list.

Gram looked impressed as well. “Some good folks there.”

“I think so.”

“How long have you been in the business?”

“Did my first CD when I was seventeen, so about seventeen years.”

“You must enjoy it?”

“Almost as much as this coffee.”

Her eyes were kind. “Help yourself to more if you like.”

“Thanks.”

Although he had ceased to be a cardboard cutout to Reggie, the jury was still out. Granted, he was so charming he had her grandmother eating out of his hand, and every time his eyes met Reggie’s, she found it hard to breathe, like now, but that didn’t change the fact that being a music teacher was the sanest decision to make at this juncture in her life.

Jamal noticed that Reggie hadn’t said much, but even as her grandmother continued to quiz him, he was unable to keep his eyes from straying over her mouth, eyes, the sweep of her cheeks and the way she was wearing her hair. That she didn’t appear cognizant of how gorgeous she actually was was yet another surprise. So many of the women he met were all about their looks.

Crystal asked, “Do you travel a lot, Mr. Reynolds?”

“Please call me Jamal, and yes, ma’am, I do.”

“Must be hard on your wife?”

“No wife.”

“Girlfriend?”

“Gram!” Reggie croaked through the tea she’d just swallowed.

Jamal smiled. “It’s okay. No special girlfriend either. Ladies don’t like being second.”

“To what?”

“My music. Can’t seem to find one who understands why I’m in the studio 24/7. But maybe one day.” His next words were directed at Reggie. “A beautiful woman can move you just like a beautiful song.”

Heat spread over Reggie like warm syrup over waffles, leaving her nipples hard and an answering riff between her thighs.

As if he hadn’t just set her on fire, he smoothly returned to Crystal, “And I’m not offended by your questions. I’m asking Regina to make a big decision. I figured this was going to be more than just a cup of coffee.”

Cute and smart, Reggie echoed inwardly again. Her grandmother had the decency to look embarrassed.

“My apologies for being so nosy. But you’re right, I want to know all about you.”

“I respect that. Have to let you know that I like your abstracts. They’re very good.”

“I had some health problems a few years back and the painting was therapy. You like them?”

“I do. Very much.”

“Then next time I set up my easel, I’ll do one for you.”

Reggie smiled over her cup. Her grandmother hadn’t painted in years. In fact, Reggie was certain Crystal didn’t even know where the easel was. Guess the current is getting to Gram, too.

“How much longer will you be in the city?” she asked next.

“Not sure.”

He moved his attention to Reggie again and what she read there made her feel as if he’d already kissed her; had already brushed his lips over the side of her neck and down her breasts. It was as if they’d been lovers in times past and her body was preening for his remembered touch.

Crystal’s even-toned voice broke the pulsating contact. “So tell me where you grew up. What do your parents do?”

Reggie wanted to deflect the questioning before he was forced to explain his past, but he answered smoothly, “As I told Regina earlier, I grew up in foster care. No one adopted me, so I aged out of the system at eighteen.”

The impact of his words was evident on her grandmother’s face. “I’m so sorry. Please forgive my prying.”

“It’s okay. Being a foster kid taught me to be independent. I probably wouldn’t be who I am today without that experience.”

“Jamal, I’m very glad we met.”

“Same here,” he responded genuinely. “Thanks for having me in your home, and for the coffee.”

“You’re welcome. There’s apple pie in the fridge if you want some.”

His eyes lit up with such delight both women laughed.

She said to Reggie, “I’m going to leave you two alone.”

“Ms. Vaughn, you’re welcome to stay,” he assured her. “I’ve nothing to hide.”

“Nope. Heard all I need to. Reggie’s a grown woman. She can make her own decisions.”

Reggie gave her a nod of thanks. Truthfully, she would prefer her grandmother stay in order to not be alone with him, but she knew that was out. “I’ll see you later.”

Crystal got to her feet, and Jamal stood, too. His show of chivalry won him more points. “And a gentleman, too? I think I’m in heaven.”

She made her exit while an amused Reggie watched her go.

After the departure, silence settled over the kitchen. Reggie glanced his way and found his eyes waiting. Beginning to drown in what she saw there, she cleared her throat and looked elsewhere.

Jamal couldn’t believe the strength of his attraction. In order to drag his mind away from wondering if her mouth would taste as sweet as it appeared, he asked, “How about I help you wash up these cups?”

“That isn’t necessary. I can handle it.”

“You’ve been putting up with my stalking for the past couple of days, it’s the least I can do.”

To Reggie the air in the room had become as humid and sultry as a summer day in July. All she could do was acquiesce. “Okay.”

After putting on an apron, it took her only a moment to make the dishwater.

He walked over to where she stood at the sink and suggested, “You wash and I’ll dry.”

“Are you always so helpful?”

“Not usually, but if it’ll get me a hearing with you, I’ll dry dishes outside in the snow.”

His dark gaze was working her overtime, and all kinds of things she’d rather not think about were pulsing inside. “Dish towels are in the drawer over there.”

In addition to the cups, the dishes holding the food her grandmother had taken to the potluck also needed to be washed, dried and put away. As they worked, conversation was minimal, but that was okay with Jamal. As he removed the wet dishes from the dish drain and dried them, he was content to watch her—the way she moved, the way she kept shooting little glances over her shoulder at him. He kept reminding himself it was her voice he was after, not the lure of her, or the challenge she presented, or the way she might look nude in his bed and wearing nothing but those pearls now lying in the middle of the table, but it was hard to remember.

With her hands in the soapy water, Reggie washed and then rinsed the big rose-patterned bowl used at the potluck to hold her grandmother’s signature jambalaya. She placed it in the dish drain just as he reached to take it out. Their fingers bumped and the sparks flew, startling them both.

“Sorry,” they apologized in unison.

A shy smile crossed her face.

“Like your smile,” he confessed.

“Yours isn’t bad either.”

Silence rose while they both rode the opening notes of a prelude only they could hear.

He asked, “When are you going to let me talk to you?”

Reggie got the impression that he was asking about way more than a recording session. She kept her voice nonchalant. “How about now? We’re done here.” She dried her hands and gestured him back to his seat at the table. “Do you want that pie? More coffee?”

“Yes to both. I’ll get myself another cup and you get the pie.”

He poured himself some of the still-hot coffee. She cut two slices of the apple pie and placed them gently onto paper plates.

“I’m having just a little piece,” she explained. “I don’t want to be up all night.”

Jamal had been having such a good time, he’d all but forgotten about her having to work in the morning. In his world, if it took all night to consummate a deal, so be it, but this was her world, and there were parameters. He felt the need to apologize. “I’m sorry, and here I am keeping you up, too. Forget the pie, let’s have a quick conversation, and we can work out the details by phone or something later.”

“I’m good. Have your pie and coffee. As long as I’m in bed by eleven, I’ll be okay.” She passed him a plate and a fork.

“What time do you usually get up?”

“Around four-thirty, and on the road no later than five-fifteen.”

“That’s early.”

“That’s life in hotel housekeeping.”

“How long have you worked housekeeping?”

But before she could respond, he groaned pleasurably in response to his first taste of the pie. “This is so damn good.”

Pleased by his testimonial, she replied, “Gram’s from Louisiana. She can make a cardboard box taste good.”

He glanced her way. “You cook, too?”

“Yep, but not as good as she does.”

“I’d be big as a Klump if I lived here.”

She chuckled. “First time I ever heard it put that way, but to answer your question about working in housekeeping, almost two years.”

That gave him pause. He wanted her to sing, not be on her knees scrubbing tubs even if it was good honest work. “Do you like working at the hotel?”

“I do. The guests can get on your nerves sometimes and it’s hard work, but it’s a job. In this economy, I’m glad to have anything that pays the bills.”

He knew she was right of course. The sheer size of his personal wealth insulated him from having to worry about the everyday issues that impacted folks on the opposite end of the economic spectrum, and it made him wonder how the Vaughn women were doing financially. Were they up-to-date on their mortgage or in danger of foreclosure? There was food in the house and they had lights and heat, but were they robbing Peter to pay Paul in order to make their bills? He didn’t know them well enough to ask something so personal, nor would he be so disrespectful, but she couldn’t be making much money cleaning rooms. Did she have health insurance? “Being in the music business can change your life.”

“For better or worse?”

He studied her over his raised cup. “I’d say better.”

“I’d say, depends.”

“Why?”

“I just do.”

“Come on, girl. You can’t just throw that statement out there with no explanation. What’s up with all this negativity?”

For a moment she didn’t respond, but he could see from her unfocused stare that she seemed to be elsewhere. “Talk to me, please?” he asked softly.

Reggie was debating whether to tell him the truth. He’d been so polite and nice all evening she supposed he’d earned it. Maybe when he heard what she had to say, he’d understand the other reason why she was so hesitant to throw caution to the wind. “My mother had one of the best voices in the city. Sang backup for one of the Grady girl groups. A record executive turned her on to heroin and she overdosed one night in Copenhagen.”

Jamal’s heart turned over. This wasn’t even close to what he’d been expecting to hear. “How old were you?”

“Twelve.”

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered. “My condolences.”

“Thanks…”

She looked haunted by her sadness. Seeing it filled him with an urge to make it so she’d never experience such pain again. “I’m not going to rip you off or give you drugs. You have an amazing voice and you could go so far in this business. How’s your grandmother feel about my offer?”

“She’s all for it, of course. When I told her about meeting you, she called me Dorothy from The Wizard of Oz, and said it was time for me to put on my ruby-red slippers and start walking down the yellow brick road.”

“I like your grandmother.”

“She liked you, too.”

“But you don’t agree with her?”

“I do, but it’s hard to know what’s right. I have a job and prospects for a better one if I can keep saving up and finish school.”

“Okay, tell you what. I’m going to leave you alone for a few days. I’ll fly back to L.A., and then call you to see if you’ve made a decision.” He was not going to let the best voice he’d discovered in nearly a decade slip away. “You still have my card, right?”

She looked embarrassed. “No. I tossed it after you left.”

“You’re a mess, you know that?”

Holding his humor-filled gaze, Reggie wondered what it might be like to have him in her life for real.

“Do you believe in fate?” he asked her.

She shrugged. “Not really.”

“Well, I do and I believe that I was supposed to run into you at the hotel.”

“Why?”

“To hear you singing.”

She didn’t respond.

“The music gods have sent me to show you the way to the mountaintop, and I’m not coming back empty-handed, so know that.”

“Now who’s a mess?”

He shot her a dazzling smile before glancing down at his watch. “I should get moving so you can go to bed.”

Reggie hadn’t expected to have such a nice time. “Thanks for understanding where I’m at.”

“No problem, but like I said, this ain’t over.”

She got the sense that he was enjoying the challenge. “If you say so.”

“I do.” He drained the last of his coffee and took out his phone to call his driver.

Jamal wasn’t anxious to end the evening. Watching her, he wanted to sit in her cozy little kitchen with his pie and coffee and talk to her until sunrise. He’d learned a bit more about her tonight, so he supposed he’d have to be content with that.

While he made his call, Reggie checked him out. Instead of the usual black he was wearing gray. On his wrist was an elaborately carved silver bracelet with a huge blue sapphire in its center. The handsome face hadn’t changed, though. The thin razor cuts that ran from his jaws down to the well-groomed hair on his chin gave his dark face just a hint of danger. Everything about him was enough to make a woman pant.

When he ended the call and put the phone back in his pocket, she got to her feet. “I’ll get your coat.”

“Thanks.”

More aware of his presence than she’d ever been of any man, she didn’t have to turn and look to know that he was following; she could feel his heat. She wondered if he could feel hers.

She suspected he could.

Opening the small closet by the front door, she withdrew his coat, a black wool topper, and handed it over.

He voiced his thanks as he put it on and did up some of the buttons. Once he was done, he stood silently for a moment watching her. That drowning sensation rolled over her again, but this time she didn’t look away. “Thanks for not pressuring me. It was nice meeting you.” The thought of him leaving for L.A. tomorrow and maybe never seeing him again left her with a strange sense of longing.

“Even nicer meeting you.”

A car horn blew outside.

“That’s my driver.”

She opened the door. Wind-whipped snow could be seen through the frosty panes of the storm door. “Have a safe trip back.”

He handed her another one of his cards. “Keep this one, okay? No trashing allowed.”

She gave him an embarrassed smile. “Okay.”

For a long moment they fed visually on each other, then he leaned down and pressed a soft parting kiss against her forehead. “Stay sweet,” he whispered. “I’ll be in touch.”

Before she could recover, he was gone. Dazed, she closed the door and leaned back against it. Her fingers touched the sweet sting left by his kiss. Her whole body felt warm, opened. If just that brief brush of his lips could deliver such a wallop, she couldn’t imagine what kind of fireworks his hands must set off. Good Lord. She was so stunned she was still standing that way when her grandmother came down the stairs a few minutes later.

“Are you okay?”

Reggie shook herself free and felt her brain come back to life. “I think so.”

“You look a little rocked.”

“Does it show?”

Her grandmother chuckled. “He is nice, isn’t he?”

“Yes, he is.”

“A girl could do worse.”

“Yeah, but not a girl like me. He’s probably got a harem full of women back home.”

“Don’t sell yourself short, Cinderella. I saw the way he was watching you at the table. He’s interested.”

“Yeah, but in what? Probably just wants to put my mop on his wall with the rest of his bedroom trophies.”

Her grandmother laughed.

“I’m going to bed,” Reggie declared.

“And I’m coming down to watch some TV.”

They met at the bottom of the steps and shared a hug.

Crystal whispered, “I love you, baby. Think about what he’s offering.”

“I love you more. I told him I would and I will. I promise.”

The embrace ended.

Reggie gave her grandmother a mock warning. “And don’t stay up too late, missy. You need your beauty sleep.”

“I’ll be up right after the late-night, dirty movie on Skinamax.”

A chuckling Reggie climbed the stairs shaking her head.

Sleep was long in coming. Jamal Reynolds filled Reggie’s mind. When she finally did drift off, his whispery voice telling her to “stay sweet” was the last thing she remembered.

In the dream, Reggie and Trina were climbing a mountain in a swirling, blinding snowstorm. Trina was above her on the mountain and Reggie knew she’d be left behind if she didn’t keep up. They were both perfectly outfitted for the weather, with parkas, backpacks and spiked boots, but the treacherous conditions made the struggling Reggie barely able to see Trina above her in the heavy snow. She kept yelling for Trina to stop so she could catch her breath, but Trina kept getting farther and farther away until the only thing Reggie could make out were the Day-Glo numbers 404 on the back of Trina’s pack. Cold and exhausted, Reggie called again, only to have her voice snatched away by the howling, screaming wind, and then she was alone.

Next thing she knew she was in a dark cave illuminated by a fire. Soft jazz could be heard. Jamal was sitting in the corner, and when their eyes met he stood. Dressed in all black, he came toward her. With each step he took, her clothes magically melted away. When he finally reached her side she was nude.

Then the scene changed and they were on a bed and his mouth was slowly worshipping the peaks, hollows and curves of her body. His fiery lips blazed slowly over the base of her throat and the crooning points of her breasts. While he lingered there, his hand played between her legs, doing such magnificent things her hips were rising and she was moaning in the jazz-hushed silence. He was nude, too, now—dark, hard and sleek. “Are you ready to be loved?”

The scandalous pleasure of his lips and hands had her so breathless, she had to fight to find the voice to reply, “Yes…”

So he took her and she came with a long strangled scream, then bolted awake.

Breathing hard, heart racing like a hydroplane on the Detroit River, she wildly looked around in the darkness. She was in her bedroom. Thank goodness! Her nipples were hard. The secret place between her thighs was throbbing and her whole body felt ripe with need. It was as if he’d slipped into her room, made love to her and slipped away again. She fell back onto the mattress. Mercy!