“I have a table for two in a corner not far from the emergency exit.”
He pressed his mouth to Angela’s ear. “There’s a table near the stage. Are you all right with that?” Her eyes met his as she nodded. “We’ll sit up front,” Levi told the hostess.
Becky signaled a waiter, and handed him two menus. “Table nine.”
Holding Angela’s hand, Levi followed the waiter through the maze of tables until they were seated less than twenty feet from the stage. “Are you sure you’re all right sitting so close?” he asked Angela.
“It’s okay, Levi.”
The Rook was nothing like the upscale restaurants she was used to, but there was something about the down-home crowd, the noise, and the delicious aroma from the kitchen that was appealing. It was a place where music, animated conversation and the unrestrained roar from sports fans watching a game on the flat screen above the bar that made her relax. There were pinball machines, a jukebox, an area set aside for dancing, and tables where patrons were playing checkers, chess and dominos.
As she scanned the menu another waiter set a pitcher of water, cola and beer on the table. The entrées ranged from roast turkey, southern fried chicken, braised lamb shanks, beef stew, catfish fritters, chicken fried steak with white gravy, grilled shrimp and trout along to an array of side dishes that included mac and cheese, dirty rice, mashed potatoes with giblet gravy, collard greens, string beans, potato salad, coleslaw and fried okra. There was an entire page dedicated to barbecue—spareribs, pork baby back ribs, beef back and short ribs, lamb ribs, chicken, steak, brisket and sausage—all prepared on the premises.
“What do you recommend?” she asked Levi.
“Everything’s good, but the first time I came here I ordered the sampler. You get three choices of meat, two sides and one dessert.”
A slight frown furrowed her brow. “That’s a lot of food.”
“The portions are smaller than if you ordered the entrée.”
Angela continued perusing the menu. Her stomach rumbled, reminding her that she needed to eat something. “I’ll order beef, chicken and fish and a side of potato salad and collards.”
Smiling, Levi gave her a sidelong glance. “What about dessert?”
The corners of her mouth tilted when she returned his smile. “You can eat the dessert.”
“Going once, going twice. The pretty lady has decided she doesn’t want cake, so that means I’m not sharing.”
Angela gave him a sexy moue, drawing his gaze to her mouth. “And I’m not going to ask.”
“We’ll see about that.” Levi signaled their waiter. “We’re ready to order now.” Angela selected a sampling of smoked brisket, grilled shrimp and a fried chicken wing, along with her sides. Levi ordered coffee with a slice of red velvet coconut cake.
“I’ve never had red velvet cake with coconut.”
Resting a hand on her back, Levi leaned closer. “It’s to die for, sweetie.”
Angela stared at the strong mouth so close to her own. And in a moment of madness she wanted to kiss Levi. Not the brush of lips, but a deep open-mouthed kiss so that she could taste him. Her gaze moved to his eyes. There was a silent message in them that made her breath catch, a signal she recognized—desire.
It was apparent he wasn’t as unaffected as he’d led her to believe. There was no doubt Levi Eaton was a normal man with a healthy sexual appetite that made him want to make love to a woman. The very thought of making love to Levi made Angela acknowledge what she’d ignored for far too long. She’d denied her own physical needs.
She’d told herself there was no time in her life for romance. Her romance novels were a poor substitute for the man sitting next to her. He was more real than any fictional character, and if she wasn’t careful she might blur the lines between fantasy and reality by getting involved with Levi. That would be nothing short of disaster—at least for her.
“Sorry to disappoint you, love. But sweetie’s not biting tonight,” she said softly. Levi froze. Nothing moved. Not even his chest. “You can breathe now, Dr. Eaton,” she whispered.
Levi exhaled an audible breath. His left eyebrow lifted a fraction. “Didn’t you say that you never walk away from a challenge?”
She blinked slowly. “I did. But this is not a challenge, Levi. The next time we come I’ll…”
“So you want a next time?” Levi interrupted.
“Of course I want a next time. I like this place.”
Levi wanted Angela to like The Rook, but he also wanted her to like him. And it wasn’t ego that drove him to want Angela to be attracted to him. “We can come back anytime you want. But somehow I thought…”
“Thought what, Levi?” Angela asked when he didn’t finish his statement.
Levi stared over her left shoulder. “I thought you would look down your nose at a place like this.”
“Why would you think that?”
“You’re the pretty, pampered Southern belle.”
“No, I’m not!” she protested.
“You have an impeccable pedigree, Angela. You’re third generation Spelman, your father is a state supreme-court judge, and I’m certain you and your mother are probably members of the Junior League. And I’m also willing to bet you were a debutante and were presented to black society at a cotillion.”
“And you think that makes me a snob, Levi?”
He smiled. “I didn’t say snob, Ang. I said Southern belle.”
Angela leaned back, wanting to put some distance between her and the man who’d affected her in a way no other man had. She didn’t want to spend her time trying to figure out what had made him so very different from other men she’d known. And despite Levi’s assertion, she wasn’t a snob. That was more like Dianne Hitchcock Chase.
Dianne had been quite vocal when she announced that her sister-in-law had been a bad influence on her daughter whenever Angela expressed her desire to be a free spirit. Nicola Chase never defended her lifestyle and Angela was no different.
Angela smiled. She was a free spirit, and she was going to show Levi a different side. “As soon as I finish eating, I’m getting up on stage to sing.”
It was Levi’s turn to lean back in his chair. “You are going to sing?”
“Pick your jaw up off the table, sweetie. I promise not to embarrass you.”
Angela winked and gave Levi a smug grin. She’d wondered whether he’d suggested bringing her to The Rook as a test—to see if she could “hang.” Well, what he didn’t know about her was that she could hang with just about anybody.
Levi and Angela turned their attention to the stage when a petite, plump woman with lots of piercings and flyaway ink-black hair took the stage and the microphone. She looked as if she’d been stuffed into a black tank dress. There were a few titters of laughter and whispering until she opened her mouth and sang the first note to “Lady Marmalade.” Then complete silence, as the audience listened raptly to the sound of her voice belting out the raunchy song. Everyone was on their feet whistling and cheering when she took her bow.
“Are you certain you want to follow that?” Levi said in her ear.
Angela rolled her eyes at him. “What happened to you having my back?”
“I do have your back, baby.”
She winked at Levi. “I guess only time will tell if you do.”
The waiter returned with their order, and over the forty-five minutes Angela ate slowly, savoring every bite she put into her mouth. What The Rook lacked in decor the chefs more than made up for with their food.
Feeling full, she touched the napkin to her mouth. “I’m ready.”
Levi stood up and pulled back Angela’s chair, and watched as she made her way to the line of would-be Karaoke performers. Leaning back in his chair he crossed his arms
over his chest. An expression of pride and admiration shimmered in his eyes as he observed Angela, with a cascade of curly hair around her shoulders and the curve of her hips in the body-hugging jeans.
There were a few whistles and catcalls when Angela stepped up to take the microphone. He hadn’t realized how nervous he was, reminding himself to breathe. The hubbub of conversations stopped, creating an eerie silence in the cavernous space when she opened her mouth to sing, “Looking out on the morning rain. I used to feel so uninspired.” It was the Aretha Franklin classic, “A Natural Woman.”
Levi couldn’t ignore the shivers inching up his spine when he realized Angela had an amazing singing voice. It was almost impossible to distinguish her voice from the Queen of Soul. Putting two fingers in his mouth, he whistled loudly when she took her final bow. Several guys raced up to the stage, tossing bills at her. Angela ducked her head, and quickly walked back to their table where Levi waited with outstretched arms.
He pressed a kissed to her head and pulled her close. “You missed your calling. You were beyond extraordinary.”
Angela filled her glass with water and took a big gulp. “That felt good,” she gasped, as she sat down. She felt free, freer than she had in years and she had Levi to thank for it.
“Where did you learn to sing like that?”
Angela smiled at Levi. “I took lessons—voice, dance, piano and etiquette.”
“I told you that you were a Southern belle,” Levi reminded her.
He kissed her cheek. “What really matters is that you’re my Southern belle.”
Angela wanted to be his Southern belle and more. But she wasn’t exactly certain what she wanted that more to be. Before she decided to go up on stage to sing, her first choice had been an upbeat Tina Turner song. But waiting and staring at Levi looking back at her changed her mind. There was something in his eyes that made her feel that she could be herself with him. That she could be a natural woman—free and uninhibited—and with a man who was willing to accept her.
“Isn’t it too soon for me to be your anything?” she asked Levi.
“I don’t think so. Now that your ex and his wife are moving to Louisville, we’re going to have to convince them that we’re a couple. And if we’re going to be convincing then we’re going to have to act and think as one. Only we know how it’s going to end.”
Angela didn’t want to believe Levi could sound so cavalier about it. Well—if that’s what he wanted, then she was more than willing to play the game. After all, she’d become quite adept in hiding her feelings, especially with men she had no interest in. She forced a smile. “You’re right.”
Caressing her face, Levi stared deeply into her eyes. “I can’t begin to presume to know what you’ve gone through, but I’m willing to help you get through this, Angela. I’m not your brothers or your father, so Robert Gaskin won’t be prepared to deal with me. Do you trust me?” he asked softly.
The word trust was like a rock caught in her throat. She’d trusted Robert and he’d deceived her. She’d trusted Savannah, and she also had deceived her. The only people she trusted were family and now Levi was asking her to trust him. “Do I have a choice?”
He brushed a kiss over her parted lips. “No, you don’t. What I’m not going to do is lie to you. I like you. You’re pretty, intelligent and you’re not a snob or uptight even though—”
“I’m an SB.”
“What’s an SB?” he asked.
“Southern belle.”
Smiling, Levi kissed her again, this time it was very different from the other kisses they’d shared. His kiss was slow, surprisingly gentle and coaxing. It ended seconds later, leaving her mouth burning and wanting more.
Angela pressed her mouth to his ear, inhaling his clean masculine scent. “Thank you for looking out for me.”
“That’s what friends are for. We look out for each other.”
Chapter 8
Angela rose early Monday morning, showered, slipped into sweats, cleaned Miss Divine’s litter box, and gave her food and fresh water. By the time the sunlight poured in through the skylight and French doors she was deeply engrossed in her manuscript. Miss Divine had curled up on the corner of the desk, her favorite spot.
She saved what she’d typed, then walked out of the office and into the kitchen.
Filling the kettle with water, Angela placed it on the heating plate and plugged it in. As she opened the refrigerator to get a container of sliced melon, the intercom from the gatehouse buzzed. Minutes later she opened the door for Traci.
“Oh, good,” Traci said, her sultry drawl almost raspy as she followed Angela into the kitchen. She cleared her throat. “I’m just in time for breakfast.”
Angela gave her a cousin a pointed look. “I know you didn’t leave Reggie’s bed this early in the morning to come here for breakfast.”
She blushed. “How did you know I slept with Reggie?”
Angela pointed to the side of Traci’s neck. “He left his brand.”
“Oh damn!” Traci hissed, turning up the collar of her man-tailored blouse to hide the strawberry-red hickey. “I don’t know why he does that.”
“Like a dog he probably feels the need to mark his territory.”
Taking off her jacket, Traci hung it over a high-back stool at the island and plopped down. “He’s not a dog, Ang,” she said, defending her ex-husband.
Angela turned around and looked at Traci. Even without makeup, Traci was stunning. Her slender figure, flawless sable-brown skin, delicate features and curly hair turned heads—especially those of the opposite sex.
Traci had been seventeen when she was approached by a modeling agency. Her parents balked since they’d planned for their daughter to attend college. But Traci was able to convince them that she would go to college once her modeling career ended. She became a supermodel overnight with her signature walk and curly hair flowing down her back. She’d modeled for eight years, and in that time she had married and divorced twice, opened the Garden Gate and recently had enrolled in college as a part-time student.
“I didn’t say he was a dog, Traci, just that he’s marking his territory to keep other men away.”
“There are no other men.”
“Do you want toast?” Angela asked, taking a loaf of multigrain bread from the refrigerator.
“Sure.”
“Now, back to Reggie,” she continued. “Are you or aren’t you going to become Mrs. Reginald Goddard again?”
Traci waved her hand dismissively. “I didn’t come here to talk about me and Reggie, but about you and Levi Eaton.”
The soft click of the kettle signaled the water had boiled. Angela dropped several bags of green tea into the clear pot to steep. “There’s not much to talk about. He’s a pediatrician who works with Duncan. End of story.”
Resting her elbows on the granite countertop, Traci cradled her chin on the heel of one hand. “Are you going to see him again?”
Angela dropped two slices of bread into the slots of the toaster. “Yep.”
“Do you like him?”
“Yep,” she repeated.
Traci clapped a hand over her forehead. “Please don’t tell me you’re starting up with the serial dating thing again.”
Leaning her hip against the countertop, Angela gave her cousin a determined look. “No. I’ve decided Levi is a keeper.”
“A real, real keeper or someone you’ll get bored with in a couple of weeks?”
“It’s not like that with me and Levi.”
Traci’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “What’s so different about you and Levi?”
The seconds ticked off as the two cousins stared at each other. Angela knew she had to tell Traci about what she and Levi had agreed to. She watched an expression
of shock cross Traci’s features as she told her everything, including going to The Rook after they’d left the wedding reception.
“He heard you sing?” Angela nodded. “Did you tell him that you’d been offered a recording contract after a record producer came to see you in a high school musical?”
“No. I told him I’d taken music and voice lessons, which is the truth.”
“Do you ever think of how your life would’ve turned out if you’d become a singer?” Traci asked.
Angela inhaled a breath and focused her gaze on the tiny buds on a potted miniature rosebush. “I never look back, Traci, because then it would be I woulda, coulda shoulda. That’s no way to live life. I get up every day looking to do or experience something different than the day before.”
“Like singing karaoke?”
“Yes. Like singing karaoke.” A hint of a smile softened Angela’s mouth. “I must admit getting up on stage and singing was a rush—something I’d like to do again.”
“You know they have karaoke competition every Saturday night at Tubbs. The top prize is five hundred dollars. Don’t look at me like that, Ang. I know it’s not the nicest neighborhood, but I think we’d be all right if Reggie and Levi go with us as backup.”
“You know Tubbs is nothing more than a bucket of blood. Someone is always getting stabbed or shot,” Angela argued softly.
“Not anymore.”
“What changed, Traci?”
“The owner hired some of Zane’s people. I’d heard that they’re armed and ready for anything.”
Angela hesitated. She knew Traci wanted to double-date because it’d been years since they had gone out together. And she knew if they went with Levi and Reggie they wouldn’t look as if they were out patrolling the club looking to be picked up. It would be like old times when she and Robert would team up with Traci and Reggie. This time there would be no Robert Gaskin.
“I think bringing Reggie along will be all the protection we need.”
Traci laughed. “No lie. Levi may not have Reggie’s size, but I doubt if he’s a punk. Come on, Ang. Please....”
Sweet Southern Nights Page 9