Heard It All Before by Michele Grant

think it was the catsuit?”
    I rolled my eyes. “Doubt it, doll.” I reached over and patted her hand. “Roni Mae, is it so difficult to believe that he’s interested in you , not your hair, your eyes, or your nails?”
    â€œThis from Miss I-Can’t-Leave-My-House-Without-Makeup?” Roni Mae asked. “You know that no man looks across a room and says, ‘Damn, that babe looks intelligent as hell. I gotta push up on that!’”
    Here we go with this argument again. Every so often, we had to have a men-only-want-looks-versus-men-really-crave-intelligence debate. “Okay, that’s true, but do you really want someone who only cares about that?”
    Jewel stepped in. “They want a woman with everything, and we want a man with everything. Eventually we all get real and take what we can live with. That’s all you can hope for.”
    Roni Mae looked uncertain before shrugging it off. “Whatever. It was just a five-minute conversation and an invite to lunch; let’s not whip out the wedding invitations.”
    Jewel looked at me. “Speaking of weddings—were those bells I heard going off during that steamy liplock Mr. Samson walloped you with?”
    No use pretending I didn’t know what she was talking about; the boy had thrown me for a loop. I’d underestimated him. He was playing games, keeping me off balance. I never knew what to expect from him; I couldn’t read him. I hated that. It’s not like I wanted to get inside his mind; I just wanted to know what the hell I was up against. I mean, what were we building up here? Were we just going to be bed buddies, or were we heading toward a commitment? I knew without a doubt that if I told Jewel what I was thinking, she would say, “Why not just take it as it comes?” So I didn’t tell her; instead I smiled and asked, “You see what I mean about him?” Meaning, do you think I can handle him?
    She nodded. “Good luck outmaneuvering that one.” I guessed that meant no.
    Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Rome waltzing over. “Good luck to you too. Roni Mae, let’s go wait outside.” I grabbed a reluctant-to-leave, nosy Roni Mae and headed outside.
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    Jewel—Saturday, May 19, 1:00 p.m.
    He was coming over. Lord have mercy, here he comes. I wanted to be calm here. I just met the man, but then again, I didn’t want to play games. I was definitely interested. Why didn’t I follow my own advice and just go with the flow? I let out the breath I’d been holding and stood there with what I hoped was a nonchalant look. Was there a woman alive who didn’t get slightly flustered around a really masculine specimen of manhood? If there was, I wasn’t among her numbers.
    â€œâ€™Lo again, Miss Jewel.” I wondered why he kept calling me Miss Jewel. Did I look like an old maid?
    â€œHello.” Okay, so sue me for lack of originality; I couldn’t think of anything else to say.
    â€œJewel short for Juliet?” He had a way of looking right at me that was really disturbing. Like he knew what I was thinking. Damn, what color were those eyes of his anyway, copper?
    â€œNope. Rome short for Romeo?” He smiled, full out, a damn dazzler it was too. There’s a thing about great teeth, you know? Good teeth absolutely send me. And thighs. I forced myself not to look down at his. I felt like a tenth grader standing by the lockers when the new cute guy in school walked by. Kind of antsy, impressed, and really, really curious to know more.
    â€œNah.” He stood there for a minute before continuing. “It’s Roman. Roman Montgomery.”
    â€œJewellen Capwell.” We stood there for another minute—not awkward, just silent. “You’ve got some good moves.” Oops, that was not how I meant to say that ... was it? Jewellen, speak like an adult! I checked myself.
    He put his hands on his