Rock Chick Reborn (Rock Chick #9)(22)

“Can’t be bad if you had a good time,” Vance pointed out.

I positioned myself in front of the chair Lee had vacated and skewered him with my eyes.

“And what if it had been a disaster?” I asked.

“We would have killed him,” Vance answered casually.

This might have been sweet, or funny, if it wasn’t possibly true.

“You’re officially not allowed to kill or maim or otherwise torture Moses Richardson even if things don’t work out with us,” I decreed.

“So you had a good time,” Hector remarked, having risen from the couch to stand between Mace and Vance in front of my desk.

He was grinning.

I looked among the testosterone brigade. “You’re all pretty pleased with yourselves, aren’t you?”

“Pretty much,” Luke rumbled.

His lips had formed a half-grin.

Okay, they got what they wanted from their interrogation, it was time for me to shop.

So even as I sat my ass down, I had a hand up, shooing them. “Fine. Now git. This conversation is at an end.”

As I spoke, my purse rang.

I reached in, took out my cell, saw the number was local but not programmed in.

As much as I wanted to ignore it because in all likelihood it was someone trying to sell me something, I couldn’t.

Local could mean a local marketing call.

It could also mean I forgot I scheduled the boys in for their dental cleaning and the dentist office was calling to remind me, which would be good, since if that was the case, I’d forgotten (mental note: put dentist appointments in planner; second mental note: buy dental appointment stickers). Or the school was calling about something. Or Roam’s girlfriend’s father was calling to schedule an inter-family meeting to discuss the variety of reasons why chicken and waffles were never happening again.

So I took the call.

“You got Shirleen,” I said into my phone.

“Mornin’, baby,” Moses said into my ear.

Heat and goose bumps both fought for control of the surface of my skin.

“Hey,” I whispered, my eyes dropping to my desk, but that desk, the office, the men and the world had vanished.

Everything had become Moses.

He was calling me the morning after a date.

No messing about for him making me wait to hear his voice, pretending he didn’t want to connect with me, letting me know right away I was on his mind.

“How’d you sleep?” he asked.

“Good,” I lied.

I didn’t sleep.

I kept reliving that kiss, the sound of his laughter, the sight of his smiles, his words about me being perfect over and over again.

It was the best sleepless night in history.

“Good,” he replied. “So, might be too early for a home date, but I got a slow-cook brisket recipe that’ll knock your socks off. I introduce you to that, you introduce me to Tarzan. Work for you?”

I loved brisket.

“Alternately, the Mayan has a retrospective screening of Set It Off. We can hit The Hornet after,” he went on.

Oowee!

Latifah, Jada, Vivica and Kimberly?

Oh no.

How was I going to decide between brisket or Latifah?

“Too much goodness, my man,” I told him. “I can’t pick.”

“You know I’m gonna choose you bein’ on my couch, even if I have to watch a white boy swing from a tree.”

I burst out laughing, this making me look up, this reminding me I had an audience who had not, I was not surprised to note, shooed.

Damn.

I had five sets of hot-guy eyes on me in varying degrees of amusement and warmth.

But it was Lee who approached me.

And then it was Lee who bent down and kissed my forehead.

Yes.

You read that right.

Lee Nightingale bent down and kissed me, Shirleen Jackson’s forehead.

Hell and damnation.

And it was Lee who whispered, “You’re welcome.”

When he pulled away, I gave him a death glare.

But honestly?

My heart wasn’t in it.

He knew this and thus gave me Liam Nightingale’s Patented Get-In-Your-Panties Smile.

He had no intention of getting in anyone but Indy’s panties, and I had no desire for that.

Still.

It was just the way it came out.

I fought fanning myself and continued to push out the glare.

He wandered away.

His men followed him.

Moses called in my ear, “Shirleen? I lose you?”

“The men were hanging around my desk, annoying me. I had to give them my death glare to get them to move out, and when I have to pull out the death glare, I need to concentrate,” I explained.

He chuckled.

Hearing it, the world suddenly felt right for the first time since Leon Jackson looked across the high school cafeteria at me.

I was in trouble.

Or I was in heaven.

Time would tell which one.

Moses brought me back on target. “Tarzan and brisket or Latifah and popcorn followed by bar food?”

Tarzan included his couch, which was a plus and a terrifying minus.

Queen Latifah included a dark movie theater, which would mean no chat, and a possibly loud bar, but definitely other people around, which would mean no meaningful chat.