Heard It All Before by Michele Grant Page A

hips—big hands, narrow hips—and grinned. “Beg pardon?”
    I nodded toward the court. “The game.” But my smile said “Any other moves you’d like to show me?” Might as well let a man know I was checking him out.
    â€œOh, yeah? Thanks.” He looked around for a second before pinning me with that look again. “Ah ... listen here. I’m just gonna come on out with it.”
    With what? “Okay.” Whatever he said, I was ready.
    â€œI’d like to give ya a call sometime, if that’s all right with you?” I had the business card and the pen out before he finished the sentence. I scrawled my home number on the back and handed it to him. He pulled a card out of his wallet and reached for my pen. He scribbled across the back, and we handled the exchange solemnly. You take my card, I’ll take yours. So different from the old days when you had a sweaty napkin that you penned your name and number on with an eyeliner pencil in a smoky club. Thank God for progress.
    I looked down at his card. It was crisp and white, no-nonsense. Black block lettering proclaimed him to be Roman L. Montgomery of Montgomery Design, architect, specializing in lawn, gardens, golf courses and planned community development. Architect?! Thank you, Lord. Thank you, thank you. I swear I’ll go to church early Sunday and stay the whole time. Just let this man be normal. Please don’t let him turn out to be a total flaky dog.
    â€œCapwell Temporary Agency.” He looked up. “All yours?”
    I tried to nod modestly but gave up and grinned. “All mine!” I waved his card. “All yours?”
    He didn’t even try for modesty. “Down to every last paper clip.” His own business too. God loved me. He would see me through this thing, whatever it was. I had that good feeling. Of course, I’d had that good feeling a time or two before, and that shit never panned out. But enough of that.
    â€œRome! Rome, you hear me talkin’ to you, boy?” A little fly girl was standing near the entrance with one hand on her black-Lycra-clad hips and the other clutching the hand of a small boy.
    He shut his eyes for a minute and looked to be in pain.
    I looked over at her. “All yours?” I held my breath. Let him say no.
    â€œYa, half right,” he muttered. “That’s my ex-wife, Jaquenetta, and my son, LaChayse, but we call him Chase.” He watched me closely for my reaction.
    Damn, finally a man who interested me and made my mouth water, and wouldn’t you know—a child and an ex-wife, named Jaquenetta no less. The baggage. I could feel it stacking up between us as I stood there. Resisting the urge to take the drama-free, easy way out and bail, I kept a neutral expression and struggled for diplomacy. “Oh, that’s nice. LaChayse is an interesting name. How’d you pick it?” What I really wanted to ask was why a nice guy like him had to have an ex-wife like THAT?!
    He searched my face before answering. “Old family name, my middle one.”
    â€œRome, I ain’t gonna call you no mo’!” Jaquenetta was getter louder.
    â€œYou did say ex , didn’t you?” I had to ask. I really needed to know. ’Cause sister-girl was already on my last nerve.
    â€œI surely did, Miss Jewel, I surely did.” He looked at the pair by the door. “I gotta go.”
    â€œYes, you surely do,” I returned.
    â€œI’ll be in touch. Okay?”
    I nodded halfheartedly. Did I want him in touch? He and his son and, damn, his ex- wife ! God grant me tolerance. I studied him in silence. Ex-wife or no, child or no, there was something about him that clicked for me. “Okay,” I said in a wispy little voice, and looked away, praying I hadn’t just done one of the stupidest things in the world.
    Demetrius came out of the locker room looking pretty nice in jeans and a long-sleeve polo. He