“Funny,” she said as she placed the lobster tails on the grill, then sprinkled more of her seasoning mix on them. “I’m just thinking about the future...not with you, but you know, my future someplace else.”
“New York, right? That’s where all writers want to end up, isn’t it?”
“Not me. I’m a Southern belle. I want to walk down the street and have people say hello and have doors held for me. I was thinking about going down to the bayou.”
“Louisiana, huh? I went to law school in New Orleans,” he said. “As you can see.” Mimi thought she heard a bit of pain in his voice, but shrugged it off. Today wasn’t the time to have deep conversations about past hurt.
“New Orleans is where I want to be,” she said. “But I’m here now and today we eat, drink and play spades.”
“Spades, girl, I hope you are ready to lose, big-time.”
Mimi folded her arms across her chest. “Are you kidding me? You’re about to face the AUC spades champions! MJ and I beat everybody from Morehouse to Morris Brown. They still quiver when they hear our names or the word Boston.”
“Really cool story, but you haven’t come up against me and Jamal. We’re the undisputed champions of the world. And we’re not taking it easy on y’all because you’re girls, either.”
“You see a girl out here? Because last time I checked, Mimi Collins is a grown woman who’s going to kick your...”
“Are those lobster tails done?” Jamal asked as he and MJ brought out a tray of hot fish and hush puppies.
“Not yet,” Mimi said. Pointing her thumb at Brent, she shook her head. “This one is over here talking about he can beat us in spades.”
MJ burst out laughing. “With what army?”
Jamal cleared his throat. “You don’t need the army when you have a marine.”
“Please, call in the Marines, the Navy and the Air Force, you still don’t have a chance against M&M.”
Mimi and MJ slapped each other a high five. “They are not ready,” Mimi said, then turned her attention back to the grill. “They sound just like those dudes from Morehouse who had no idea that we were going to eat their lunch and drink their milk shakes.”
“Let’s eat so we can teach these ladies a lesson,” Brent said as he watched Mimi lift the lobster tails from the grill.
“Get ready to lose, fellas,” Mimi said as they sat down to eat.
Chapter 8
The fish and lobster had been a hit, and as much as Mimi didn’t want to admit it, Jamal’s hush puppies were to die for. But before anyone could dig in for seconds, Brent dropped a deck of cards on the table.
“Time to back up all that talk, ladies,” he said.
Jamal rubbed his hands together. “Let’s do this.”
Mimi laughed. “I’ve never seen two people so ready to get their asses whipped.” MJ gave her friend a high five.
“Let’s get it on like Marvin Gaye,” she said, then took the deck from the middle of the table. MJ shuffled the cards with the skill of a Vegas dealer.
“Card tricks don’t mean you’re going to win. Just means you have good hands and watch too much TV,” Jamal said as MJ flipped the deck.
“No, our skill means we’re going to beat y’all,” Mimi said as MJ began dealing the cards.
“No talking across the board, either,” Brent shouted.
After four games, Mimi and MJ had backed up their bragging by beating Brent and Jamal. “I want a rematch!” Jamal said as he popped the top on a beer. “Y’all cheated or something.”
“Cheated?” Mimi said as she pointed her glass of wine at Brent. “Who held a card back and screamed misdeal?”
“That card fell underneath the table,” he joked.
“Fell right out of your hand.” She looked over the rim of her wineglass at Brent’s smile. He was gorgeous when he smiled. But he was especially sexy when he scowled. While they’d been playing cards, she saw that scowl a lot. And she couldn’t help but wonder what kind of faces he’d make late at night while making love. Just the thought of it made her thighs throb.
“It’s getting late,” Mimi said as she set her glass on the table. “I have to get some writing done this evening.”
“Yeah, and I need to see what you’re going to say about me,” Jamal quipped.
“Anyway,” Mimi said as she stood up. “MJ, are you ready?”
“Actually, Jamal and I are going to clean up the kitchen and then hit this new spot he was telling me about when we were frying the fish.”
Mimi’s mouth formed the shape of an O, but she didn’t say a word. Maybe Jamal would be MJ’s rebound dude for the night, someone who would take her mind off Nic.
That’s what she would write about—rebound dates and how they’re not all bad. “You and Brent are welcome to come,” Jamal said.
“Nah, I have some briefs to catch up on for Monday. Y’all make sure my kitchen is clean before you leave,” Brent said, then rose to his feet. “Mimi, would you like for me to walk you home?”
“Such a gentleman.” Mimi rolled her eyes. “I think I’ll be safe in the hallway.”
“I’m walking you over anyway,” he said, then wrapped his arm around her waist. She didn’t miss the look that MJ gave her as she and Brent walked out the door.
Alone in the hallway, Mimi had to caution herself not to kiss this man. With his beautiful lips. Full and succulent. This was her friend. Not a friend with benefits, just her friend.
“I had fun today,” Brent said as she leaned against her door.
“So did I. We should do it again.”
“I know I want some more of those lobster tails. Girl, you have mad skills,” he said. “How’s your dessert?”
“Play your cards right and you might find out.” Mimi winked at him, then unlocked her door. “Good night, Brent.”
“Good night, Mimi.”
Walking inside, Mimi leaned against the door and sighed. Why was this man getting under her skin? When was the last time she actually cooked for a guy? She normally told men that she couldn’t cook.
Mimi headed upstairs to grab her laptop and write her blog post for the evening. She wished that she’d had the guts to invite Brent in for a nightcap, but friends didn’t do those things.
Plopping down on the bed, Mimi booted up her computer and got to work on her blog.
Sometimes a rebound isn’t a bad thing. There are times when you need to catch another ball to make up for the missed play on the last one. Look, I’m not the biggest sports fan in the world, but let’s face it: most people think of dating as a game. No one is really looking to fall in love. If that were the case, there wouldn’t be so many single people floating around Atlanta and every other metropolitan city talking about dating games.
So, since dating is a game for most, I say let’s play the rebound game. A rebound is great for you as long as you don’t get caught up in your feelings. Having fun after a breakup is a good thing. A game of cards with a cute guy doesn’t mean you’re going to be looking for a diamond at the end of the night. Listening to some music at a trendy hot spot doesn’t mean you’re in a relationship the next day. Go ahead and rebound. Just remember to keep your feelings in check.
After Mimi found a picture of her favorite Atlanta Hawks player getting a rebound against the Charlotte Hornets, she posted her blog and closed her laptop. It always amazed her that people thought she was constantly on dates or had endless relationships because she talked junk on the internet.
It worked; her blog was popular and people listened to what she said. If only they knew she spent more time alone than with a paramour.
Shrugging off her thoughts, Mimi decided to have glass of root beer and listen to some jazz. Maybe, she thought, this would take her mind off Brent.
* * *
Th
e soft sound of John Coltrane interrupted Brent’s reading. Pulling his glasses off, he walked to the door and noticed the music was coming from Mimi’s place. He imagined her inside dressed in a silky nightgown, her hair up in a curly bun with a few tendrils around her face. Maybe she was reading or maybe she was swaying to the music as she wrote.
Unable to be satisfied with just his thoughts, Brent crossed the hall and knocked on her door.
A few seconds passed before Mimi opened the door. Brent drank in her image, clad in white cotton shorts and a cropped tank top. “Brent?” she said. “Music too loud?”
Brent closed the space between them and drew Mimi into his arms. Without a word, he kissed her—slow. Deep. Passionate. A moan escaped Mimi’s throat before she gave in to the heat of Brent’s kiss. His hands roamed her back, reveling in the feel of her soft skin. He wanted to take her upstairs and bury himself deep inside her.
But this wasn’t right.
This wasn’t how he operated. But damn, Mimi’s mouth was magical, her tongue divine. He couldn’t stop kissing her if he wanted to.
Mimi pulled back, placing her hand against his chest. “Wh-what was that all about?”
“Something I’ve wanted to do all day,” he said, his voice low and deep. “Hearing Coltrane just pushed me over the edge.”
“You know I’m no good for you,” Mimi said. “I don’t want the family fantasy you have in your head and I don’t do one-night stands.”
He nodded. “I just couldn’t stop myself. Mimi,” he moaned.
“You have to go.”
“Listen, I didn’t want to come over here and try to make something happen, but you are irresistible.”
“Bye, Brent,” she said, then turned her mouth up to his and kissed him again. Hard. Deep. Wet. Brent’s body felt as if it had been ignited like a stick of dynamite. Then she pressed herself against him, and he was harder than a concrete column. Mimi broke the kiss and they stared into each other’s eyes.
“We’re playing with fire. How far do you want to take this?” His voice was husky and filled with want.
“If we cross the line, we know that it can’t end well,” she said. “But you’re such a good kisser.”
“I’m good at kissing in so many other places, too,” he said with a randy wink. “But I’m going to go. I don’t think we’re ready for anything else right now.”
Mimi nodded weakly. Brent turned to the front door, though he wanted nothing more than to taste Mimi again. Looking back at her, he could tell that she was feeling the same way.
“Good night.”
Closing the door behind him, Brent knew he’d opened Pandora’s box with that kiss. And just like the mythological story, there would be no way to put the lid on that box again.
Chapter 9
Monday morning rolled around too soon for Mimi’s taste. But she had a busy day scheduled, thanks to MJ and the blog about Fast Love. She was supposed to join the ladies of Good Afternoon Atlanta to talk about the perils of online dating. Waking up at five thirty, she got a short run in before she started doing some research about dating horror stories. Then she tried to think of her own experience on that subject, and other than the Fast Love event, she had none. There was no way, in her opinion, to find love behind a computer screen. She didn’t care what the commercials said; online was not the new spot for love.
And neither is your building, she thought as she poured herself a cup of coffee. No matter how hard she tried, Mimi couldn’t stop thinking about that kiss. Brent’s lips made her see things with him that she hadn’t thought about in years. A relationship, waking up every morning in his arms.
“I wonder how he feels about New Orleans,” she mused as she fumbled with a package of blueberry muffins.
When she heard a knock at the door, she hoped that it was Brent. Then she looked at her ratty robe and bunny slippers and decided that it might be best if it was just a deliveryman on the other side of the door.
Glancing out the peephole, she saw a tall white guy in a suit standing on the other side of the door holding a small box. She opened the door and smiled at the guy.
“Mimi Collins?”
“Yes,” she said.
He handed her the box. “You’ve been served.”
“What?” she snapped as she dropped the box and stepped into the hallway. “What is this about?”
“Guess you should watch what you write about on your blog,” he replied snidely.
Mimi rushed him and pushed him against the wall, not noticing that Brent had walked out of his place. “Who in the hell sent you?”
“Lady, get your hands off me. I’m just the process server.”
“Who sent you?” she growled.
“Fast Love! Now let me go. I only got fifty dollars for this!”
“Mimi,” Brent said as he placed his hand on her arm. “What’s going on?”
She turned around and locked eyes with Brent. Immediately, she felt like a wild cavewoman. She dropped her hands from the man’s shoulders.
“I ought to sue you, too!”
“Get out of here before I give you a reason!” Mimi snapped. The man took off as if he were The Flash.
“You need to calm down. Where’s the document he served you?”
She pointed to the box near her half-open door. “I didn’t open it because...”
Brent headed to her door and picked up the box. “Do you mind if I open it?”
“Sure, whatever,” she said.
Brent opened the box and pulled out the papers. He read over them and smirked. “I guess Fast Love didn’t like your critique of their event and they want to hold you liable.”
“It’s not my fault they lied. Those bastards!”
“I can help you with this,” he said. “If you want me to. Fast Love is seeking damages from you for five million dollars.”
Mimi snatched the papers out of his hand. “I don’t have that kind of money!”
“I’m sure they know that as well. They want to shut you down. That’s usually how these lawsuits work.”
“I told the truth and they can’t sue me for that. Hello, First Amendment!”
Brent shook his head as he noticed Mimi’s scowl.
“Why don’t you meet me at my office around two this afternoon and we can get to work on this. Sometimes it just takes a lawyer’s voice to get issues like this cleared up.”
“Your talk game is that strong?” she quipped.
“I’d like to think so. You know I have an amazing mouth,” Brent said, then winked at her. “Nice slippers. See you later. I have to head to court.”
Recalling her attire, Mimi felt like a fool. She could only imagine how she looked to Brent as she accosted the process server. “Oh, my God, I’m an idiot,” she whispered as Brent stepped on the elevator.
* * *
Brent smiled as he walked into the courtroom. Of course the complainant in the civil case wanted to talk settlement. When Brent uncovered Greta DeVine’s history of shoddy work and sexual harassment claims once she was fired, he’d been happy to share that with her attorney.
This hadn’t been Greta’s first high-profile sexual harassment case, and just like her suit against Atlanta-based computer company DVA, she was going to lose this one as well.
Granted, she was a beautiful woman, but she wasn’t as smart as she thought she was. Heading into the conference room with Craig Franklin, CEO of Atlanta Metro Credit Union, Brent knew this was going to be a win for the banker. Craig was one of the few clients he’d represented that he believed hadn’t done what he was accused of. Was Craig a ladies’ man? Yes, but that was part of Greta’s MO. Go after powerful single men with a playboy reputation and sue them for sexual harassment.
“What does she want now?” Craig asked as they stood in th
e doorway. “My sister told me not to hire that scheming bi...”
“Let me do the talking. You just sit down and scowl. She doesn’t have a leg to stand on.”
“That’s how she got me, those damned legs and short skirts.”
“You remind me of my best friend, getting caught thinking with the wrong head,” he said as he sat down at the long wooden table and waited for Greta and her attorney. “Didn’t y’all get the warning from Bell Biv DeVoe? Never trust a big butt and a smile?”
Craig laughed. “Message received now.”
When the duo walked in, Brent stood to shake hands with them, but neither returned his effort.
“Why are we here?” Brent asked as he took his seat.
Susan Chambers, Greta’s lawyer, cleared her throat as they sat down. “We’re willing to settle.”
“Settle,” Brent scoffed. “We’re not settling, because my client didn’t sexually harass Greta. They had an affair that didn’t end the way she wanted and Ms. DeVine did what she always does, use the legal system to try to get revenge. We’re not doing that and Mr. Franklin isn’t paying her for anything.”
“You bastard!” Greta snapped. “I’m so sick of you men pretending that you’ve done nothing wrong when you toy with a woman’s emotions.”
Susan tugged at Greta’s arm. “Let me handle this.”
“You’re doing a poor job of handling anything! If you want this to disappear, I want one hundred thousand dollars or I will go to the media and let them know who their hero really is.”
“Ms. DeVine, that sounds like extortion,” Brent said. “Last time I checked, that’s a crime.”
“F...”
“Greta!” Susan yelled. “Let’s just drop the case.”
“That is the best idea I’ve heard all day,” Brent said.
“No.”
Craig shook his head. “Greta, I’ll give you a thousand dollars and a Happy Meal, just leave me alone.”
Brent shot his client a cautioning look. “Do we need to leave and let you two non-attorneys hash this out? Greta,” Brent said as he pulled a document from his briefcase and slid it over to her. “If you don’t want to find yourself on the other side of a lawsuit, you’re going to sign this nondisclosure agreement. You will not speak publicly of Mr. Franklin nor will you disparage him on any form of social media or we will sue you for eighty-five million dollars and go to the police about your extortion attempt.” Brent waved his smartphone. “Which was recorded.”
Feel the Heat Page 6
