“Hello?”
“Hello, Lina.”
She pursed her lips, having recognized Rashad’s voice right away. Chastising herself for answering without looking at the screen to see who was calling her, she replied tersely, “Yes, Rashad?”
“You don’t sound happy to hear from me. Are you working through your lunch break?”
She rolled her eyes. “No, but that doesn’t mean I have time to talk to you.”
“Ouch. I know you’re mad, and I’m sorry if you were offended the other night.”
She went to the red plastic roll dispensing numbers and pulled one, noting how Rashad had succeeded at placing the blame for what happened squarely on her shoulders. “Well, you know how crazy and unreasonable we women can be.”
He was silent for a moment, as if carefully choosing his next words. “Lina, you’re not going to scare me off by being snappy. There’s something special between us, and we both know it.”
She eased into the line. There were only two people ahead of her, and she didn’t want to get into this with him now. “I guess you know about all the auctions at Cleveland and Wendell being postponed.”
The sound of his deep chuckle reverberated in her ear. “Yes I know about it, and I know you’re trying to change the subject.”
She let her eyes sweep over the menu board, even though she already knew what she planned to order. “I’m not talking to you about this right now, Rashad.”
“I’m fine with that. Let me take you out to dinner tonight, and we’ll iron it out then.”
The line moved as the first person in front of her left with their food. “You’re not going to let this go, are you?”
“Nope.”
She closed her eyes briefly. Rashad was a charmer, always had been. It only took one night of watching him flirt with the female fans at a Gents show to see that. His ego told him that no woman could resist him, and while she’d love to take him down a peg, the truth of the matter was she couldn’t resist him, either. “What time are you picking me up?”
“Seven thirty. Thank you for agreeing, Lina.”
“You didn’t give me much choice.”
He chuckled again. “I’ll see you tonight.”
She disconnected the call just as her number came up. Shaking her head, she tucked the phone away and ordered her usual, a ham and Swiss wrap and baked chips.
With her food and a bottle of water, she left the deli for the walk back to her office. With every step, the dreadlocked hotness that was Rashad MacRae dominated her thoughts.
* * *
Rashad slowed his truck, his speed dropping below the twenty-five-mile-per-hour speed limit, as he neared Lina’s house on a quiet residential street. Her house was in the west Charlotte neighborhood of Wilmore. The area, located several miles from the hustle and bustle of the city center, was known for being diverse, family friendly and filled with eclectic charm. He rarely ventured to this neighborhood, preferring to live closer to the action and to his work in the city. Though, for someone as focused as Lina, he could see the appeal of living there.
He eased into a spot directly in front of her house. The large ranch-style structure had soft yellow siding, with multicolored stone surrounding the pitched roof at the doorway. The neatly trimmed yard was free of flowers, but there were a few bushes bordering the front of the house. To his mind, the home was very much reflective of the owner: beautiful and appealing, without any extraneous enhancements.
He got out of his truck, straightening his tie as he walked toward the door. He’d chosen to put on one of his best gray suits, minus the sport coat to keep him from bursting into flames in the Carolina summer heat. He hoped she’d approve of the charcoal-colored slacks, lavender button-down shirt, and purple-and-silver-striped tie he’d worn with his favorite gray-and-black wing tips. Sticking to the sidewalk to avoid trampling her grass, he made his way up to the house.
He raised his fist, gave a few sharp raps on the dark stained surface of her front door. Moments later, she swung it open.
As he took in the sight of her, he swore his heart skipped several beats. She was wearing a soft green sleeveless jumpsuit. He’d encountered these things before. He and the other guys in the band had jokingly referred to them as “adult onesies.” While he’d seen women wearing them on television and all over the Queen city, he’d never seen a woman who he thought looked good in one.
Until now.
The jumpsuit was made of a magical fabric that clung to every peak and valley of Lina’s curvaceous body. The low cut V-neck in the front gave him a glimpse of her cleavage. Figure-grazing fabric embraced her flat stomach and her round hips and thighs, and then flared out into a wide leg over her gold pumps.
“Hi, Rashad.”
Her voice snapped him out of his trance, and he realized he’d better stop ogling her so openly. His gaze drifted up to her face, taking in the barely there makeup and perfectly coiffed hair. “Lina. You look fantastic.”
Her sparkling raspberry lips tilted up into a smile, then parted. “Thank you. I could tell you liked the outfit by the look on your face.”
He smiled. What could he say to that? She’d caught him staring, and he couldn’t say he was sorry. She looked too damn good not to stare at. The reality was, she looked good enough to eat. He’d had the honor of tasting her before, and as his appreciative eyes raked over her once more, he hoped he’d have the honor again.
She turned away from him to lock her front door.
His eyes landed on the curvy roundness of her ass, and he shut his eyes briefly as the blood filled his manhood.
She faced him again, tossed her keys into her small handbag. “Ready?”
Oh, he was ready, all right, but in a totally different sense than she meant. Deciding to keep the thought to himself, he grasped her hand and led her to his truck. Once they were settled inside the cab and buckled in, he started the engine and pulled away from the curb.
The enclosed space of the truck’s cab subjected him to the sweet, floral aroma of her perfume. Her fragrance was so feminine and intoxicating he had to take shallower breaths to keep his focus on driving. He considered turning off the air conditioner and opening the windows, but it was too muggy a night for that. She didn’t say much in the car, seeming content to entertain her own thoughts while she watched the passing scenery through the passenger window. Picking up on her cues, he didn’t press her to converse. There would be plenty of time for that over dinner.
Once he eased the truck into a space at the Black Rose Inn, he cut the engine and went around to her side to open the door for her. In the time it took him to round the truck’s front bumper, she’d already swung the passenger door open. She was of average height, but his super-duty pickup was high enough off the ground that she might have to make a small leap to get out. He reached his hand out just in time to help her step down from the running board. Linking arms with her he escorted her inside.
The interior of the Black Rose was quiet, in keeping with the romantic atmosphere. The walls, covered in black brocade wallpaper, were decorated with framed photographic images of various rose varieties. A plush beige carpet was emblazoned with hundreds of black roses, alternating with loose petals. The round tables were cloaked in white cloths, and due to the absence of music being piped in, the only sounds were the few muted conversations being carried on by the patrons.
At the black lacquer podium near the door, Rashad gave his last name to the tuxedoed maître d’, who lead them to a secluded table near a window. Once they were seated