He's Just A Friend by Mary B. Morrison Page B

and fork lying on the table. “Don’t be jealous.” She stood, twitched her hips, and said, “Don’t hate. It’s called ‘pimp juice,’ baby. I got that.” Fancy winked at SaVoy as SaVoy shook her head.
    On her way to the rest room, Fancy smiled, resenting SaVoy because her father spoiled her and Fancy had often heard him tell SaVoy, “I love you.” Fancy longed for the day, any day, that she would hear Caroline speak those three words to her.

CHAPTER 6
    F ancy scurried about her apartment trying to remember where she’d placed her ruby earring. Damn, she’d only removed it for a moment when she answered the phone. Okay Fancy, backtrack. You were in your office on the computer when Adam phoned to confirm he’d be here at midnight, and then you raced to the bed. You sat on the love seat in the bedroom, and then lay across the bed. No, you shut down the computer, then went back and lay across the bed. Thank goodness Fancy had found her earring next to her laptop.
    Fastening her red leather swing coat, Fancy casually walked outside. A tall muscular Latino man stood next to a spotless Town Car sucking on a cigarette so hard that his lips caved into his mouth. Then he flicked the butt into the bushes and opened the rear door.
    Fancy threw up her hand and yelled, “Hey! What are you doing? Trying to burn down my place!”
    â€œGood evening, Ms. Taylor. You look lovely,” he politely responded, waiting for her to settle into the backseat.
    â€œGracious! It’s colder in here than it is outside!” Fancy complained, squirming on the cold leather seat. She was still pissed about the cigarette but refused to mention it to his inconsiderate ass again.
    â€œI’ve been instructed to drop you off at the restaurant. Mr. Van Lee would like to have an early dinner,” the driver said as he adjusted the digital thermostat from sixty to seventy degrees.
    â€œWhat restaurant?” Fancy asked, smiling.
    The driver remained silent. He must have had selective hearing.
    Whatever. “Sure, that’s fine.” Getting angry with the driver wasn’t worth her time or energy. If Fancy didn’t adjust her mood before she saw Byron, her face would become grimaced and make her look as though she were mad. That was definitely why whatever-his-name-was was a driver. Yeah, every day he probably calculated the number of days left before his retirement and where he’d have to work after he retired so he could continue living his low budget lifestyle.
    Fancy grinned, then closed her eyes, trying to recall how Byron looked. Hopefully, he was as handsome as she remembered the night they met. What if she’d had too much to drink that night and Byron was ugly? Well, at least he had money and one of the most seductive voices she’d heard over the telephone. Fancy glanced in the driver’s rearview mirror and smiled at herself. The weekly facial she received from De La Peau Day Spa on Park Boulevard kept her dark skin radiant.
    An early dinner with Byron was fine but a late night out wasn’t happening. Not tonight. Fancy tried keeping her mind occupied with anything except the fact that after her date with Byron she had to service her main sponsor. She’d have to make it home no later than eleven to prepare for Adam. Her rent was due Monday and the nosy landlady loved having a legitimate reason to eavesdrop outside Fancy’s door. Working for Harry’s property management firm was a benefit because prior to receiving Harry’s signature, Fancy reviewed all of the late and eviction notices so she knew her legal rights as a tenant.
    The driver picked up his cellular, pressed one button, and said, “Mr. Van Lee. We’re right out front.”
    No way. The same place they’d met. She’d always wanted to dine at the Ritz Carlton’s dining room. While shopping in the nearby area, she’d seen limousines line up outside