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Authors: Michele Grant

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BOOK: Heard It All Before
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He grinned. “It sure wasn't a full-course meal, Miss Jewel.” He stroked a hand down my back before backing away to put himself back together.
I looked for my purse before I noticed it was still on my shoulder. I dug my mirror out and looked in it. I was shocked—very little was out of place. God knows I felt completely disheveled. I dug out some Kleenex and did some quick cleanup work before picking up my drawers and shaking them out a little before pulling them back on. I sprayed a little perfume in some strategic places and planned to stay upwind of Mom and Dad for a little while.
He zipped up and checked his watch. “Let's shuffle.”
“This how it's gonna be the next few days, player? Wham, bam, thank you, ma'am?”
“I didn't hear you complaining a minute ago, sugar.” He grinned real annoyingly.
I wrinkled my nose at him. The damn male ego. Sometimes I forgot to tiptoe around it. “I was outta my mind a minute ago and you know it. All I'm saying is, if we can't do it well, let's not do it at all.”
He spun me to him so quick I dropped the purse. “You saying I didn't do it well, Miss Jewel?” He wrapped his arms around me and put his hands on my rear, pressing me to him.
“You did it well, just not right, player. Sex without foreplay is like food with no flavor. It satisfies the hunger but lacks the visceral enjoyment.”
He smirked. “All that groaning and quaking you just broke off? I got your visceral enjoyment.”
I stood on tiptoe to kiss his jaw. “Idiot. I'm trying to say that I'm going to miss being with you. Being
with
you. You know you make me wanna do things ...” I trailed my tongue from his ear to his jaw.
His eyelids dropped down a little. “What kind of things? Things we haven't done yet?” His breath caught on the word.
I grinned a little grin; men are so easy. “And in the tropics with the rum drinks—you know how I get after a drink or two, baby.”
He groaned. “You get hungry ... for more than a snack.” He turned his head to capture my lips with his.
“Um, for more than a snack.”
He lifted his head. “You better try to work out something with Heather, then, huh, baby?” Heather was Ross's new and very white girlfriend. Jungle fever all over the place these days. We were going to be roommates according to Cleo's little plan.
I shook my head. “But then Ross would know.”
“Your brother thinks you're a virgin?” Roman looked at me skeptically.
“No, but I—”
“See no reason to prove otherwise, right?” Roman sighed. He'd heard it all before. I understood that this was a concept that he, as a male, wasn't going to be able to grasp. As the baby girl in the family, I had a certain image. I was the young, sweet, unspoiled child until the night of my wedding. If my parents or older brother suspected otherwise, we never spoke of it. Ever. My sister and I knew the real deal.
“You know how I am about stuff like this.” I shrugged.
“A puritan in public and a wild woman against the wall?” he teased.
“I don't see why we have to break it on down like that.”
“ 'Cause, baby, you gotta decide if your brother's image of you is gonna hold up. Like you said, the sun, the sand, the sea. You and me cocoa buttered up with a rum drink or two? Hmm, I can hear the Bob Marley sound track in my head.”
Be damned if he didn't have a point. Shrugging, I reached over and picked up my purse. “I'll have to see what I can do. Let's go; I'm ready.”
We looked each other over before he took my hand and led me back to the gate. They were all there looking at us. Mom and Vince, Dad and Trudy, Stefani and Lamar, and Ross and Heather. I felt like they all knew. Hell, maybe they did.
“Did you eat?” Stefani asked with a gleam in her eye.
“Just grabbed a quick snack,” Roman answered, perfectly straight-faced.
“Oh, a little something to tide you over, huh?” Ross asked.
I looked him straight in the eye, knowing my image was blown. “Yeah, you know how that is.”
“I do indeed, little sister.” He grinned at me and winked. “We'll have to work on being mindful of those hunger pangs while on vacation. Hate for my little sister to be deprived.”
I blinked at him innocently. “And since you've been known to sit down and enjoy your meals at leisure, big brother ...”
Heather looked between us and whispered to Ross, “Are y'all talking about the buffet schedule or the sleeping arrangements?”
We all exchanged glances.
“Kids, we're boarding,” Cleo called out.
Roman and I let the others go ahead of us. As I picked up my carry-on, he leaned over to me. “Looks like it's gonna be a very merry Christmas after all, huh, babe?”
I grinned. “Yeah, and to all a good night, player.”
23
Paradise Lost
Roman—Monday, January 9, 6:15 p.m.
 
 
T
he bitch of it was, we were actually minding our own damn business. I mean, I could count on one hand the number of times Beau and I went out to lunch together. This year, maybe two, three times tops. And coming downtown? Forget about it. Almost never happened. In a way, it was my fault. I suggested we swing by and see if Greg wanted to join us. It was when we were leaving the frigging building that it happened. Out of nowhere she came. Broadsided us, really. One minute I was talking Italian or Chinese food, next thing I knew, Beau started skinnin' and grinnin', dropping Cajun endearments like pennies into a fountain.
It was Renee. No hello or shit to me. Went straight for the kill: “Beauregard, you are a sight for sore eyes.” She had squeezed her ass into some midthigh-length clingy dress with sky-high-come-and-get-me boots on. I'll say one thing—it was possible to be fly with no class at all.
Beau turned the grin up fifty watts. “Eh,
petite chou,
'tis you that's a vision.”
'Tis?
I didn't think anyone used the word “ 'tis” outside of a Dickens novel.
“Ah, that's sweet to say,” she cooed. On her way to see her damn fiancé, a big rock weighing down her finger and she was cooing at Beau. Made
me
wanna holler, throw both my hands up, you know?
“Sweeter to see,
ma belle
.” He stepped closer. I rolled my eyes. The mack was in full effect.
I'd had enough. “Hello, Renee.” The tone was like, remember me?
She flashed me a look. “Yeah, hi, Rome.” I didn't know exactly when it was that Renee and I decided to dislike each other. It probably started the first time she commenced to perpetrating a fraud in front of me and I called her phony ass on it. Yeah, maybe that was it. All I knew was that it was kinda like a habit now. Which was too bad, 'cause I thought Greg was all right. At least when it came to business and shit like hanging out, he was okay. Didn't seem like the type to catch your back in a crisis, though, from a casual impression. Funny, 'cause Renee seemed the type to need a lotta catching over the years. I sent another look at that rock and shook my head. A woman oughta live up to a ring like that. She saw me looking and flashed it in the light a little bit.
Her mercenary ass, almost made a brother feel sorry for Greg. Hoped a brother knew what he was getting into. I turned and walked away a few steps. I didn't want to be part of it. But the whole thing started me to thinking about sneaking and cheating and such things. And I had to wonder, at what point did this kinda thang cease to be a harmless flirt and start easing into mental adultery? Glancing over at the two of them, I'd have to say right about now.
I stepped back to 'em just in time to hear Beau say, “We were going to take Gregory out to lunch with us, but he said he had another engagement.
C'est vous, oui?
”
She blinked up at Beau as if he'd just sung all of Luther's greatest hits. “I'm having lunch with Greg.”
“That's what he just said,
chère
.” I told her in a nasty voice, knowing I was being nasty.
She ignored me. “Why don't we all lunch together?”
Beau started to answer. “Sounds—”
I put the hand up to cut him off. “We gotta shuffle. Beau?” He might be older, but he recognized when I'd drawn a line. I wasn't going for that shit, no way. How was a brother supposed to get his grub on with all the drama flying round the table? Naw, wasn't gonna be me, not today. Renee sent me a look that could've dropped me at twenty paces.
“Perhaps another time, Renee?” He smiled at her with a perfect mix of regret and eagerness. I swear, if I wanted to be King Dog of the pound, I'd have to start taking lessons from big bro.
“Of course.” She extended her hand to him like she was freaking royalty. Of course he kissed the back of it with all his charm oozing like hot syrup. She went for it in a big way. Ten to one, Greg skipped lunch and did a little office quickie with Aunt Jemima here. I pitied any man who had to eat Beau's leftover waffles, know what I'm saying?
I headed for the door. “We out, Beau.” In that good old peripheral vision that came in handy, I saw her hand Beau her business card. I kept walking. When Beau caught up to me, I started in on him. “Beau, you saw the rock on her finger.”
“And the gleam in her eye, little brother. I distinctly saw the gleam in her eye. Did you not SEE the boots she had on? My God.”
I gave it up.
 
 
Jewel—Tuesday, January 17, 11:07 p.m.
I hung up the phone with a sigh. Renee had called Roni Mae on a tear about Roman and how she didn't think he was good enough for me. What was I, royalty? Roni felt it was her place to call me with the heads-up. With friends like these, well, you know what they say.
“So, what'd she want?” Roman asked. He was sprawled out in the bed playing with the remote control. His bedroom was like a shrine to bachelorhood, I kid you not. Black, brown, and some cream thrown in to lighten it up a little. Big heavy ebony pieces, king-size bed with black leather headboard. I didn't have to wonder about what he did before he met me. I knew. He had got this room hooked up for solid seduction. The light switch had a dimmer that was conveniently located both at the door panel and beside his nightstand. The universal remote, or should I say control panel (by far the most complicated piece of machinery I had ever seen), operated the stereo, the TV, the DVD player, and his iPod-playing alarm clock. If he tried, I'm sure it could set the microwave too. And he was a rabid TiVo guy. Oh, heaven forbid we should miss a sporting event or an episode of
Heroes
or a single freaking rerun of
The Sopranos.
During football season, he not only watched the games, but he also TiVo'd each Cowboy game along with the pre- and postgame shows, the ESPN (a moment of silence for what has got to be the man's favorite channel) wrap-ups, the NFL channel previews, and any other show that might have some subtle insight we might have missed.
But I was rambling again, huh? If you hadn't noticed, I rambled when I was trying not to think about something.
I went into the bathroom for my brush, came out, and sat on my side of the bed. Something we fought over routinely. We both slept on the right. So when we were at his house, he slept on the right and vice versa at my house. But we still talked about it like one of us was going to change our minds. I looked over at him, sprawled in what I called his king-of-the-castle pose. Propped up against the headboard with all the pillows around him, legs sprawling over a big chunk of the bed, his control tucked just out of my reach, a soda in one hand and the other working on devouring all the popcorn.
Letterman
was on. What was it about men and David Letterman? Personally, I'd like to slap the cigar out of his smug little late-night mouth. But that was my opinion.
I grinned over at Mr. Wonderful, who was just tickled over Dave's latest top ten list. “Honey, you gonna save me some corn?”
He looked down and lifted his hand out of the bowl. “Got a little carried away.”
“Wanna spare one or two of those pillows?”
He tossed two over. “Yeah, sorry, babe.”
I was brushing my hair up into a ponytail when I finally asked him, “What the hell did you do to Renee?” That got his attention. He turned down the volume and looked at me.
He looked guilty as hell all of a sudden. “Nuthin'. Whatcha mean?”
I put the brush down and climbed over where I could get a good look at his face. “What I mean, player, is that you have somehow made an enemy of her, and she is now determined to free me from your evil clutches.”
He put the soda down and sat up, suddenly alert. “Say what? What'd the bitch do?”
I frowned. Renee had her selfish tendencies, but there was no reason to call her a bitch. Only I could do that—homegirl prerogative. “Roman,” I scolded.
“Sorry, what'd li'l sweetness do?” He didn't even try to sound sincere.
I had to laugh. “Nothing yet. She told Roni Mae she had a plan to show me the error of my ways. That was Roni Mae calling to tell me.”
Roman scowled for a second, then shrugged. “Renee don't wanna start shit with me. I got her scheming ass cold.”
“Oh yeah, why is this the first I'm hearing about it?” I didn't like the idea of him not telling me things. Not that he had to tell me every detail of his life but, well, hell, you know what I mean.
“Don't get spastic on me, Miss Jewel. I didn't tell you 'cause I knew you didn't wanna hear it.” He looked like he was satisfied with that answer. I was far from it.
“What else haven't you told me that you thought I didn't wanna hear, hmm? You keeping secrets, player?” I tried to play it light, but I was not liking the way this conversation was going. Me being a naturally suspicious person and that little history with Tricky Rick started rearing its ugly head and suddenly I was looking at the boy like I didn't know who he was.
He sighed deeply and put his head down. “Let's not get into a big thing here. I ain't keeping shit from you that's important.”
Wrong answer. “And which of us gets to decide what's important?” Now, I knew he probably didn't have shit to hide, but you couldn't be too careful these days.
Like I said, times like this reminded me of Patrick coming to me, telling me he had been seeing his ex-girlfriend and was going back to her. There I was, thinking everything was fine and dandy and he had the ex on the side. I was dreaming about bridesmaids' dresses and he was thinking up his next lie. And when it all came down, he told me, “I didn't tell you before because I knew it would upset you.” Like I wasn't upset in the end? Like I wasn't still upset just thinking about it, the no-good two-timing son of a bitch. I blinked. This was now. This was Roman. He was different. He was
real
. He could be trusted ... couldn't he?
Damn that Eddie Murphy. What did he have to do with anything, you ask? Lemme tell you. Remember that movie
Raw
? The live one in which he basically said all men sleep around no matter who they are or who they had. He messed up a lot of us with that one. Just jokes, or a little too true? And then you look at history—Patrick cheated on me, all my girlfriends had ex-boyfriends who cheated on them, couldn't think of too many married couples I knew that haven't had the whole fidelity-infidelity issue come up. The numbers didn't look good. Yeah, yeah, I know, it was just a
movie
. And you tried to be cool, like not all men were like that—there WERE some good brothers out there. Then you prayed and prayed that the one you found was one of the GOOD ones. But every once and a while, that doubt reared its head and here we were.
Roman snarled and threw his hands up. “Baby, what we fighting 'bout? I ain't cheating or sneaking or even looking, okay?”
Then, honestly, I don't know where it was lurking, but it just popped out of my mouth. “So why do you get so nervous every time someone brings up marriage?”
His jaw clamped shut. “ 'Cause I been married, baby. I know it ain't all that holy an institution.”
To say I was insulted didn't even begin to say it. “I'm not Jaquenetta!” Whether I wanted to get married or not, he should want to marry me. He should be giddy I would even consider it, damn!
“You really think you gotta tell
me
that? I know who you are, thanks much. You know who I am?”
I rolled my eyes. “I know you're not Patrick, if that's where you're going with this.” Again with this shit.
He jumped off the bed and started into the bathroom. “Just remember, you brought his name into this bed. I didn't.” He slammed the bathroom door behind him and slammed the toilet lid up.
What? Brought the name into the bed? Was that some sort of Cajun curse or something? I hopped up and swung the door open. He was standing there taking a pee and turned his head to look at me in amazement.
“Do you mind, Jewellen?” Oh, now we're Jewellen; brother wanted to get proper. I knew when he started talking slowly and properly that he was good and ticked off.
I shrugged. “Mind what? I've seen it before, player. Reckon I'll see it again before too long. And watch your aim, could you?”
He finished and flushed the toilet. As he tucked himself back in, he sent me a look. “Naw, Miss Jewel, ain't gonna be no dick tonight.” He dropped the lid and walked over to the sink.
My mouth fell open as I watched him wash his hands and pick up the toothbrush. “Whadaya mean, ‘ain't gonna be no dick tonight'?”
He finished brushing and spit into the sink, then reached for the mouthwash and nodded at me. “You heard me.”
BOOK: Heard It All Before
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