It didn’t take long.
He was seated at a table near the stage with a group of men. The “Morehouse Nine,” as the friends were dubbed back in college, had remained thick as thieves over the years. They held season tickets to Atlanta Falcons games and got together every month for a boys’ night out.
Quentin was leaning back in his chair with an air of lazy self-indulgence, a toothpick dangling from a corner of his mouth as he nursed a glass of—what else?—whiskey. He was arrestingly masculine in a charcoal dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his forearms and the top three buttons undone. As Lexi watched, he made a joke that drew a round of raucous laughter from his friends. The sight of his irreverent white grin disarmed her, causing a deep ache of longing to wash over her. Despite the fact that she’d spent the past three days ignoring his phone calls, she missed Quentin. She missed being with him, talking to him, laughing with him. She wished they could go back to the way things used to be. But it was too late, and that saddened her. Deeply.
As if sensing the weight of her stare, Quentin glanced up suddenly, those piercing hazel eyes locking on to hers. Her breath caught in her throat. Something soft flickered in his eyes, disappearing a moment later when his gaze shot to Byron at her side. His expression hardened before he glanced away, coldly dismissing them.
But Byron had already spotted him. “Oh, hey, there’s Quentin,” he said, pointing excitedly. “Let’s go say hello.”
Lexi inwardly groaned. Greeting Quentin was thelastthing she wanted to do, at least not until she’d knocked back a few drinks to calm her nerves. But there was no way for her to refuse without arousing Byron’s curiosity.
So she plastered on a bright smile and allowed herself to be led over to Quentin’s table. But as they drew closer, Byron spied one of his former law school classmates and made a detour to greet him, telling Lexi he’d catch up to her shortly.
As she approached Quentin’s table, she was met by a chorus of rowdy male voices and wolf whistles. “Hey, Sexy Lexi!” the men greeted her with the nickname they’d bestowed upon her years ago.
She grinned, tossing her bangs out of her eyes. “Evening, fellas.” Her gaze swept around the table, briefly meeting Quentin’s before passing on. “You boys staying out of trouble?”
“Depends on your definition of trouble,” one of the friends slyly intimated, which set off the usual round of deep laughter. Only Quentin remained silent, watching Lexi with a coolly veiled expression as he drank his whiskey.
“Damn, Lexi,” said Percy Sheldon, looking her over with frank male appreciation. “You aresmokin’hot tonight.”
There were nods and hearty echoes of agreement around the table.
“Why, thank you, fellas,” Lexi drawled, smiling demurely. “I do believe the handsomest men in this restaurant are sitting right here at this table.”
It was true, she realized. The eight black men gathered around the table could have been easily featured inEssencemagazine’s annual bachelor issue. They were smart, successful, physically fit, with looks ranging from attractive to downright gorgeous. It was no wonder nearly every female eye in the restaurant was trained on their table. Surprisingly, only one of the friends was married. Michael—who was currently mixing and mingling with his customers—was the first member of the group to be taken off the market. They had a bet going about which one would get hitched next.
Against her will, Lexi found herself stealing a glance at Quentin. He was still watching her, his gaze sliding over her body as if he could see through her low-cut black dress, through her silk pantyhose and satin lingerie, right down to her naked flesh. It was a bold, deliberately possessive perusal. One intended to brand her, to remind her in no uncertain terms that she belonged to him—whether she’d arrived there with another man or not. It couldn’t have been more potent than if he’d run his hands all over her body.
Lexi shivered, heat pulsing through her veins.
“Hey, Lexi,” Percy said good-naturedly. “How come you never gave any of us the time of day, but you’re here on a date with that schoolboy? Now, youknowhe can’t handle a woman like you.”
She arched a brow, amused challenge in her eyes. “And you think you can, Percy?”
As the others whistled and hooted, Percy grinned broadly. “I sure would love a chance to find out. Matter of fact, why don’t you ditch the schoolboy and—ouch!” He whipped his head around to glare at Quentin. “Damn, Q, what the hell’d you kick me for?”
“Did I? My bad,” Quentin drawled lazily. “I was just stretching out my legs. Sometimes I forget how far they reach.”
Everyone laughed as Percy scowled, leaning down to rub his injured shin.
Lips twitching, Lexi met Quentin’s gaze. The possessive gleam was back, letting her know that he’d kicked his friend on purpose, and would probably do worse if she continued flirting with him. Apparently,hewas the only one allowed to flirt with others, Lexi thought sourly.
“Hey, guys,” Byron said, joining them.
A chorus of greetings went around the table.
Byron grinned at Quentin. “Hey, boss. Always great to see you outside of the office.”
Quentin inclined his head briefly.
Percy said to Byron, “The fellas and I were just wondering how you convinced Lexi to go out with you.”
A huge, goofy smile swept across Byron’s face as he gazed at Lexi. “Believe me, I know how lucky I am.”
Lexi smiled at him. “We should go claim our table before someone else does.” Slipping her arm through his, she said to her friends, “Enjoy your evening, fellas.”
“You kids don’t stay out too late,” Quentin warned softly. “Byron’s got a busy day at work tomorrow.”
