peach, could definitely throw down in the kitchen. She believed the popular saying that the way to a man’s heart was through his stomach, and there was no doubt that his heart, and something a bit farther south, were Passion’s ultimate destinations.
Throughout the more personal conversation, Passion listened for hints of another woman, a serious relationship in which Lavon was involved. She’d used a couple different approaches to direct the conversation toward relationships, mentioning her own divorce and joking about the potential discomfort of dating and then dismissing a church member. Lavon admitted leaving the church his ex-wife attended, but added nothing about his current romantic situation. As Passion and Lavon left the restaurant and drove down Lincoln Boulevard toward the Sheraton Hotel, it became clear that Passion was going to have to “go direct.”
She waited until there was a comfortable lull in the conversation and then asked bluntly, “So, Lavon, are you presently in a relationship?”
“What do you mean by relationship?” Lavon countered.
What do I mean by relationship? What do you think I mean by relationship? Why do y’all do that, get stuck on stupid whenever the RCM words—relationship/commitment/marriage—come up? That must mean you are in a relationship and if you are, then why are you wining and dining women in LA?
This flurry of thoughts happened in the time it took Passion to take a deep breath and change “pissed off” to “patient.” Controlling her chagrin, she calmly replied, “I mean, are you casually dating, in a long-term relationship, engaged, taken, or available?”
“Well,” Lavon said slowly, gathering his thoughts. He had to be careful with his answer. On the one hand, he didn’t want to get seriously involved with Passion, and on the other hand, he didn’t want it to come off as if he were a two-timing jerk who turned up the heat on the West Coast while Midwestern home fires burned. He decided to simply tell the truth. “I am dating someone back home; she’s also a member of Mount Zion. I wouldn’t call it casual exactly, but we haven’t become exclusive.”
Passion listened quietly, nodding her head in an “I see” manner.
Lavon continued. “We’ve only been dating a few months and honestly, I think she’s more eager to jump into something serious than I am. She’s twenty-nine, never been married, no kids. She’s ready to settle down with someone. I want that too, eventually, but needless to say with a teenager and a divorce already on my résumé, I’m in no big hurry.”
Fading fast were Passion’s hopes for a quick commitment, a firm foundation for something deep and lasting to occur in the eight weeks that Lavon would be in LA. Being a divorced parent herself, she understood where he was coming from, but after five years she was more than ready to get married again—the sooner, the better.
Passion pulled just beyond the hotel’s foyer entrance, stopped the car and turned off the engine. “Sure you’re not up for a cup of coffee?” He’d declined her previous suggestion of a walk on the Santa Monica Promenade or checking out a jazz band she favored, but Passion wasn’t ready for the evening to end.
Lavon was. “I’ll have to take a raincheck,” he said, grasping Passion’s hand lightly before raising it to his lips for a kiss. “Thank you so much for the pleasure of your company. I enjoyed myself tonight.”
“Me too,” Passion said, her eyes fastened on the lips that had just touched her hand. “Has anybody told you that you have extremely sexy lips?”
More like how many have told me, is what Lavon thought. “Maybe once or twice,” is what he said.
Passion leaned over and touched her lips lightly to Lavon’s. His lips were thick and soft, just the way Passion liked them. But she restrained herself from appearing too eager. “May I have a real kiss?” she asked playfully.
Lavon wanted to say no, but how would that
Throughout the more personal conversation, Passion listened for hints of another woman, a serious relationship in which Lavon was involved. She’d used a couple different approaches to direct the conversation toward relationships, mentioning her own divorce and joking about the potential discomfort of dating and then dismissing a church member. Lavon admitted leaving the church his ex-wife attended, but added nothing about his current romantic situation. As Passion and Lavon left the restaurant and drove down Lincoln Boulevard toward the Sheraton Hotel, it became clear that Passion was going to have to “go direct.”
She waited until there was a comfortable lull in the conversation and then asked bluntly, “So, Lavon, are you presently in a relationship?”
“What do you mean by relationship?” Lavon countered.
What do I mean by relationship? What do you think I mean by relationship? Why do y’all do that, get stuck on stupid whenever the RCM words—relationship/commitment/marriage—come up? That must mean you are in a relationship and if you are, then why are you wining and dining women in LA?
This flurry of thoughts happened in the time it took Passion to take a deep breath and change “pissed off” to “patient.” Controlling her chagrin, she calmly replied, “I mean, are you casually dating, in a long-term relationship, engaged, taken, or available?”
“Well,” Lavon said slowly, gathering his thoughts. He had to be careful with his answer. On the one hand, he didn’t want to get seriously involved with Passion, and on the other hand, he didn’t want it to come off as if he were a two-timing jerk who turned up the heat on the West Coast while Midwestern home fires burned. He decided to simply tell the truth. “I am dating someone back home; she’s also a member of Mount Zion. I wouldn’t call it casual exactly, but we haven’t become exclusive.”
Passion listened quietly, nodding her head in an “I see” manner.
Lavon continued. “We’ve only been dating a few months and honestly, I think she’s more eager to jump into something serious than I am. She’s twenty-nine, never been married, no kids. She’s ready to settle down with someone. I want that too, eventually, but needless to say with a teenager and a divorce already on my résumé, I’m in no big hurry.”
Fading fast were Passion’s hopes for a quick commitment, a firm foundation for something deep and lasting to occur in the eight weeks that Lavon would be in LA. Being a divorced parent herself, she understood where he was coming from, but after five years she was more than ready to get married again—the sooner, the better.
Passion pulled just beyond the hotel’s foyer entrance, stopped the car and turned off the engine. “Sure you’re not up for a cup of coffee?” He’d declined her previous suggestion of a walk on the Santa Monica Promenade or checking out a jazz band she favored, but Passion wasn’t ready for the evening to end.
Lavon was. “I’ll have to take a raincheck,” he said, grasping Passion’s hand lightly before raising it to his lips for a kiss. “Thank you so much for the pleasure of your company. I enjoyed myself tonight.”
“Me too,” Passion said, her eyes fastened on the lips that had just touched her hand. “Has anybody told you that you have extremely sexy lips?”
More like how many have told me, is what Lavon thought. “Maybe once or twice,” is what he said.
Passion leaned over and touched her lips lightly to Lavon’s. His lips were thick and soft, just the way Passion liked them. But she restrained herself from appearing too eager. “May I have a real kiss?” she asked playfully.
Lavon wanted to say no, but how would that
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