Heard It All Before by Michele Grant

Miss Jewel.” His voice was pure silk.
    â€œYou think so, old man?”
    â€œI got a good four years on ya.” Thirty-four—good, stable age for a man, if there was any such age for a man. “Okay, one last question: Who are you?”
    â€œHuh?” He sounded confused.
    â€œAre you a ruffneck, a professional architect, or a sexy flirt?”
    He laughed. “Yes.”
    Now I was confused. “Huh?”
    â€œWell, lemme ask ya’ this—Are you a homegirl, an entrepreneur, or a sexy flirt?”
    I got it now and answered accordingly. “Yes.” Damn, I liked him. I really did. He had a way about him.
    â€œBingo, let some folks of African American descent be multifaceted if we have to be. Obama in the White House, babe—it’s all about the progressive multitasking blackness of it all. Now, you wanna go out tonight or you one of them girls got rules about how many days ahead a brother gotta call before you’ll step out?”
    â€œNot too big on the Rules, player. Whatcha got in mind?” I laid back on the couch in anticipation of his answer.
    His voice was rich with inflections when he answered. “We ain’t ready for what I got in mind, Miss Jewel. How ’bout if we just start out with dinner?”
    I smiled. “Yeah, how about if we do that?”
    â€œI’m turning onto your street right now.”
    I jumped up from the sofa, damning modern technology and the invention of the cell phone. “What?” I ran to the window and saw a forest green Pathfinder coming up the street. SHIT! I glanced in the entryway mirror. My hair was in a raggedy ponytail, I wore no makeup, I was in bare feet, and I was wearing a ripped up T-shirt and shorts my mother told me to throw out six years ago. Too late. He was pulling into the driveway. “How’d you get my address?”
    â€œYou’re not the only one with Internet search skills.” He braked to a halt. It was getting dark, and his windows were tinted, but I could tell he was turning his head to look at the house. “Nice crib.”
    â€œThanks. How’d you know I’d be here?” In other words, I couldn’t believe he rolled up when I’m looking like who done it and why’d ya let them?
    â€œI didn’t. I was prepared to sit outside ’til ya showed up.” He searched the front windows until he found the one I was standing in front of. You could say I felt the heat of his gaze. Did that make sense or was I gushing like a fool? No need for an answer—I knew I was skying big time.
    â€œOh yeah?” Damn but I was eloquent this evening.
    â€œYeah, three and a half weeks of suggestive e-mails and phone sex with your voice mail is my limit.”
    â€œThat was phone sex?” I teased.
    â€œWell, phone foreplay.”
    â€œHmm.” He gave good foreplay. I stood at the window with the phone in my hand, watching him watching me.
    â€œMiss Jewel?”
    Pardon the pun and color me sappy but his deep voice was putting me in the mind of rich maple syrup. And I was seriously contemplating becoming the buttermilk pancake on his plate. Seriously.
    â€œRoman?”
    â€œYa think I can come in?”
    I took one last look at myself in the mirror. Poor boy. He was going to have to take me as I was. I dragged the hem of my shorts down an inch and yanked my T-shirt back onto my shoulder. Walking to the door, I swung it open. “I don’t know, can you?”
    He hung up the phone, turned off the car, hopped out, and was standing in front of me in record time. He stepped around me and into the house, closing the door behind him. “I’m in.”
    Yes, he sure was.
    The phone hung in my limp hand, and I hoped my mouth wasn’t hanging the same way. Hot damn, the boy was fine ! Finer than I had remembered and my memory had served me well. Black jeans, black polo shirt, black tennis shoes. I loved a black man in all black