Heard It All Before by Michele Grant Page B

like music, you know how to relax, you got a sense of humor, and a streak of romance in your soul.” He was right on the money, but how did he know that from looking around my room?
    I stared at him. “They teach you that in architect school?”
    He smirked. “School of life, baby.” He was cocky, but I could work around that. Truth be told, I liked a man with a healthy ego. Couldn’t stand the brothers you always had to be pumping up all the time; the arrogant ones just needed a stroke now and then.
    â€œListen, why don’t you go back downstairs and put on some music while I change?” I couldn’t stand around looking like this too much longer.
    â€œWhy do you need to change?”
    Why do men think that as long as your privates are halfway covered, you’re dressed to go anywhere? “I wouldn’t hardly go out looking like this!” I yanked the ripped sleeve of my T-shirt back onto my shoulder for what seemed like the millionth time.
    â€œYa look fine to me, Miss Jewel. Take your hair outta that thing, throw on some shoes, and let’s roll.” He truly thought it was just that simple.
    I pointed at the staircase. “I think not.”
    He shrugged and trotted downstairs, giving me a nice view of his rear.
    I heard Ella Fitzgerald singing about blue skies as I picked out an outfit. I was surprised at his choice. The more I found out about this guy, the more I wanted to know. Suddenly in a hurry, I swished mouthwash, refreshed the deodorant, spritzed on some perfume, slapped on some lipstick and mascara, lotioned the legs, and brushed my hair out, trying to resurrect a curl or two. I tucked a teal stretch V-neck tee into a khaki miniskirt and slipped my feet into some wedge sandals. Added dangly earrings, Y-necklace, bangle bracelet. I grabbed a belt and headed downstairs. Roman was sitting on the arm of the sofa, reading my CD titles. He looked damn good sitting there. He glanced up at me as I stepped forward. There was the look. That gold-eyed what-have-we-here sweep.
    â€œNice.” There he goes with the killer smile. One word and a smile and I was putty.
    I took a breath and tried to sound businesslike. “Ready?” I finished with the belt, snatched up my purse, and threw it over my shoulder.
    He took my hand as we walked toward the door. “Oh yeah, I’m ready.”

8
    Catch a Vibe
    Roman—Friday, June 19, 9:30 p.m.
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    S o this was how it was supposed to go. This was what “great date” felt like... . I could get used to this. Jewel and I fell into a little dinner lounge with some live music. The food was off the chain, the atmosphere was just right, and the conversation was smooth, smooth, smooth. I would say something; she would pick it up and throw it right back. We discovered we thought alike about a lot of things—politics (middle of the road), child-rearing (nuthin’ wrong with a good ass whippin’), church (faithful believers if not faithful attendees), and music (no school like old school).
    There were no awkward pauses, no fumbling around, just vibin’; this was nice. We were sitting in companionable silence as the band finished up their set. We clapped and smiled at each other. I picked up the wine bottle. “You want some more?”
    She raised a brow. “Trying to get me tipsy, player?”
    I put the innocent who-me? look on my face. “Now, Miss Jewel, haven’t I been on good behavior?”
    She nodded and squinted at me suspiciously. “All right, we’ll see how you act. Top it off.”
    I topped off her glass and mine. I sipped and was enjoying the view and the moment when she said ...
    â€œSo, explain to me how you ended up married to Jaquenetta.”
    I almost choked on the wine. “Okay, where did that come from?”
    She smiled. “You are just a little too perfect, Mr. Montgomery. I figured it was time to dig into the dirt.”
    â€œToo perfect?