In the key of love

Joi Lewis’s security firm is vying for a lucrative contract with an international bank. But there’s a glitch she never could have predicted: Marco Alvarez. Years ago, Joi left Marco’s friend at the altar. Now she must prove her trustworthiness to the gorgeous, albeit guarded, man standing between her and success. Soon business meetings give way to jazz-filled evenings that hold the promise of deep, mutual satisfaction.

Can Marco rely on Joi to protect his bank when she hasn’t always followed through on promises in the past? His first instinct is to say no. Yet this isn’t the same naive young woman he knew before. She’s confident and alluring, daring him to open up in ways he never has. But a safety breach and a past secret could destroy everything, unless they’re willing to fight to keep their passionate duet alive.

In that moment, he knew he had to address the attraction crackling between them. If he didn’t speak up, there was no way they’d be able to work together every day. Before he could get his speech off the ground, though, she spoke.

“Mr. Alvarez, I think it’s better if we address this now.”

His brow hitched. “You mean, the attraction between us?”

She nodded, her gaze drifting up to meet his. “You’re a handsome man, and I would be lying if I said I wasn’t attracted to you.”

He could feel the smile curling his lips. “I won’t deny how I feel about you, either.”

“And how is that?”

“Like a schoolboy with a crush.” It was an honest answer, and the best way he could think of to describe the way he felt whenever she entered his space.

She moved in, closing the space between them. A sly smile graced her full lips. “Oh, really.”

“Really.” He raised his hand, letting his knuckle graze the soft skin of her jaw. She trembled, but didn’t back away or reject his touch.

Dear Reader,

Yay! It’s finally time for the “Latin Lover” of the Queen City Gents to meet his match. I’m so happy that you’ve picked up a copy of A Sultry Love Song, and I’m so excited to share this story with you. As much as I love writing stories set in my home state, in this book, I got to stretch a little bit because the hero and heroine are going to the sunny shores of Costa Rica. Talk about an exotic location—and it just happens to be the home of Marco Alvarez, the story’s hero. He and Joi Lewis share an undeniable attraction, and I hope you’ll enjoy the ride!

Remember, I love hearing from readers, so feel free to contact me via the form on my website, or on social media (I’m KiannaWrites on Facebook, Twitter and Pinterest).

All the best,

Kianna

A Sultry Love Song

Kianna Alexander

www.millsandboon.co.uk

KIANNA ALEXANDER, like any good Southern belle, wears many hats: loving wife, doting mama, advice-dispensing sister and gabbing girlfriend. She’s a voracious reader, an amateur seamstress and occasional painter in oils. Chocolate, American history, sweet tea and Idris Elba are a few of her favorite things. A native of the Tar Heel State, Kianna still lives there with her husband, two kids and a collection of well-loved vintage ’80s Barbie dolls.

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In Loving Memory of My Sweet Grandmother,

Lily Mae Edwards Mckinnon, 1933–2016.

Acknowledgments

A Sultry Love Song presented some very unique research opportunities for me, in that it allowed me to explore some aspects of Costa Rican culture. It also allowed me time to look briefly into the lives of two jazz saxophone pioneers: Charlie Parker and John Coltrane. Hopefully, these details are woven into the story so seamlessly that you won’t realize it until you’ve finished the book :).

I’d like to thank my husband for allowing me the space and time to write. I’d also like to thank the wonderful ladies of the Destin Divas group, whose talent and insight helped get me over the hump when this story was still in its early stages. I won’t name all twenty-five women but you know who you are and you ladies ROCK! Also, another shout-out to my Council of Queens, and to Beverly Jenkins, who continues to take my calls and dole out the best advice on writing and life. I have some amazing people in my life, who make me feel truly special.

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Introduction

Dear Reader

Title Page

About the Author

Dedication

Acknowledgments

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Epilogue

Extract

Copyright

Chapter 1

Joi Lewis shimmied over to her desk, the sounds of Kool & the Gang pouring from her computer’s speakers. The music filled her small office inside Citadel Security, the company she’d founded eight years ago. The late-morning sunshine flooding through her vertical blinds cast a glow on the cluttered surface of her desktop, and she chided herself for neglecting to clear it off—again. Since she needed to do the books for the previous month, there would be no more putting it off. So, with music to motivate her, she began digging through the mountain of papers, magazines and random items piled up on the black lacquer desktop.

Karen, Joi’s college classmate and business partner, poked her head into the office. Joi gave her a nod. She could see Karen’s lips moving, but she had no idea what she was saying. She continued to go about the task of cleaning the desk.

Karen started flailing her arms, to signal Joi to pay attention.

Joi finally looked up, still dancing. “What?”

Karen rolled her eyes, then cupped her hands around her mouth. “Turn down that music, please!”

Joy twisted the knob on her computer speaker and gave her partner a sheepish grin. “Sorry. Music makes things go by faster.”

Karen shook her head, folding her arms across her chest. Tall and curvy, Karen Russell controlled the cybersecurity aspects of Citadel’s business. She wore a peach knee-length sheath that hugged her figure and complemented her complexion, accessorized with several pieces of gold jewelry. Despite her ultra-feminine looks, Karen was as big a computer nerd as they came. “You know, you could just tidy it up at the end of each day. That way it wouldn’t get so out of hand.”

Joi waved her off. “You sound like my mom. Go do something technical while I finish this.”

“Aren’t you supposed to be working on the October profit and loss statement?” Karen leaned against the door frame, awaiting an answer.

“Yes, and I will as soon as I get my desk clear. So, shoo.”

Karen shrugged. “Call me when you’re done.”

After Karen had left, Joi looked down at the uniform she wore every day: a pair of black slacks and a white button-down blouse embroidered with Citadel’s logo. While her position as owner left her free to wear anything she pleased, she chose to wear the same uniform her security guards wore. In her mind, it made sense. Plus, she didn’t spend nearly as much time as Karen did fussing over an outfit. That left her more free time to work, and to help raise Citadel’s profile in the community.

By the time the playlist finished half an hour later, she’d culled most of the unneeded items from her desktop. Ready to take advantage of the newfound space, she sat down in her black leather executive chair. She opened her accounting software and dove into the reports displayed on-screen.

It took less than twenty minutes for her to discover a serious problem. Her face creased into a frown, and she called out for Karen.

Karen strolled in from her office in the next room. “What’s up? Are you done running reports?”

Joi curled her finger in Karen’s direction. “Come over here and look at this.”

Karen dragged a folding chair next to where Joi sat, and joined her in peering at the figures that were displayed on the screen.

After a few moments of silence, Karen asked, “Are these numbers right?”

With a slow nod, she responded, “Yes. I’ve checked them three times.” While she didn’t maintain a pristine office, she did keep meticulous financial records.

In typical fashion, Karen grabbed the blond highlighted ends of her ponytail and began twisting them. “Crap.”

“Crap is right.” Joi turned away from the screen to look at her friend and business partner. “Losing that contract in September has had a bigger impact on our bottom line than we thought.” One of their small business clients, Wilma Clark, had retired and closed up her small boutique, leaving two of the guards without a regular assignment. The boutique sold designer shoes and accessories to Charlotte’s wealthier citizens. Mrs. Clark requested the guards after a break-in at the store. “It looks like Mrs. Clark’s last check to us bounced.”

A frown creased Karen’s brow. “That’s not like her. She was one of our first clients, and she’s never written us a bad check.”

“I know.” Joi shrugged. She knew Mrs. Clark well enough to know that the bounced check hadn’t been some malicious attempt at defrauding Citadel. “To be honest, I don’t feel right pursuing her for the money, either. She was such a good client, and now that she’s retired, she’s much less likely to be able to pay it anyway.”

“I agree.” Karen sat back in her chair, let out a soft sigh. “Is she even still in the area?”

“I don’t really know. She did mention having a son in Florida. But I haven’t seen her since she shut the boutique down, and that was three weeks ago.” Joi hadn’t really thought to question Mrs. Clark about how she’d be spending her retirement.

“So what are we going to do?”

The two of them sat in uncomfortable silence for a few moments.

Finally, Karen gave voice to what they were both thinking. “If we don’t get another client quick, we are going to be out of business.”

A long sigh escaped Joi’s mouth. “We’ve got enough for payroll, and to keep the lights on for now, but not much more. We’ve got to drum up some business.”

Standing, Karen refolded her chair and tucked it into the back corner of the room. “I’m on it. I’m going to see what I can do to revamp the website, and to get us some social media attention.” She was out the door by the time she finished her sentence.

That was what Joi loved about Karen. They both shared an equal amount of passion for Citadel. Whatever the task, Joi knew Karen would always put in the necessary effort to accomplish their business goals. She couldn’t imagine what Citadel would be without her brainy college classmate as her partner.

And while Karen did the technical thing she was so good at, Joi planned to kick it old-school, and solicit some business using the tried-and-true method she preferred. Taking her desk phone out of its cradle, she opened her contact file on the computer and started to dial.

She spent the next hour going through her contacts, making calls and putting people on notice that Citadel now had an open slot for a new client. A few people said they would follow up with her within the week, but some flatly conveyed their disinterest. When she replaced the handset in the cradle, she leaned back in her chair and blew out an exasperated breath. Prospecting was the one aspect of running a business she didn’t care for, but she would do whatever it took to keep her company up and running.

Citadel was so much more than just her work. It was the realization of her dreams. She thought back to the fateful day in high school when she’d blacked a boy’s eye for calling her older sister a giraffe. Her mother had told her to find a way to turn her so-called aggression into a business, and she’d decided she wanted to own a security firm. She’d worked hard to get here, not just for herself, but for the women she worked with. One of her company’s policies was to hire female guards with a background in military or police work. While that policy dissuaded some businesses from contracting with Citadel for their security needs, Joi was proud of her business and everything it stood for. The former police officers and female veterans she employed as guards were just as capable as their male counterparts, and she would vouch for their abilities anytime, without hesitation.

A loud grumbling sound from her stomach reminded her of her need for food and pulled her out of her thoughts. Rising from the desk, she grabbed her red peacoat from the coatrack, and prepared to face the chilly November winds in pursuit of lunch.

* * *

With one hand in the pocket of his slacks, Marco Alvarez stood by his office window. His other hand held a mug filled with strong black coffee he sipped from as he viewed the cold gray November day. The frost clouding the glass pane reminded him of just how chilly it was out there, and how much he dreaded going back outside later in the day.

The chiming of an incoming video call split the quiet of the room, drawing his attention to the computer monitor atop his desk. Coffee in hand, he sat down in his desk chair and clicked the mouse to answer the call. “Good morning, Sal. How are you?”

The video window showed an image of Salvatore Perez. As president and chief executive officer of Royal Bank and Trust, Sal was about as serious as a man could be, but he always managed a smile for his childhood buddy. “I’m good, Marco. And how is the weather over there?”

Marco felt the frown crease his brow as he glanced back to the frosty window. “It’s deceptively sunny, and a sweltering forty degrees out there.” Even though he’d been living in the United States for over a decade, he still hadn’t adjusted to the cool weather that gripped the Southeast from November to January. Knowing that the Charlotte area was considerably warmer than points in the northern part of the country provided little comfort on chilly days like this one.

Sal chuckled, straightening his bright red tie. “I’m sure you know it’s beautiful here in Limón. Sunny, cloudless blue skies and temps in the seventies.” His gray eyes held a twinkle of amusement.

Marco groaned aloud.

In response, Sal chuckled again. “Homesick, my friend?”

“You know I am. I haven’t been home in almost three years.” Hearing his friend describe the gorgeous weather in his coastal hometown of Limón, Costa Rica, only made him homesick. “Stop torturing me, Sal, and get to the reason why you called.”

Sal’s smile faded a bit as he returned to his businesslike demeanor. “Right. I wanted to see how much progress you’ve made in hiring a permanent security firm for the Charlotte branch.”

Marco ran a hand through his straight dark locks. “Not as much as I’d hoped. I’ve had a few proposals, but so far none have moved me.”

“You know, the board members and I agree that the bank is well established now, and that it’s time to bring on a private, dedicated security staff.”

Marco nodded. “I agree. Frankly, I’m tired of dealing with the temp agencies. The branch has more than enough depositors now to justify hiring permanent security.” The Charlotte branch, where Marco served as president and executive of operations, had been open for five years. During that time, thousands of accounts of all types had been opened there, for both business and personal use. Other than a branch in New York City, it was the only branch on the East Coast. Royal Bank and Trust was an international company, with five worldwide branches, and Marco was proud that his branch was thriving despite its smaller market.

Sal sat back in his chair. The fabric of his dark suit crinkled as he rested his elbows atop his desk and tented his fingers. “I’ll need you to hire someone ASAP, within a week if possible. Can I count on you, Marco?”

He knew it would be a stretch, but he still felt confident he could get it done. “Sure, Sal. I’m on it.”

“Oh, and one more thing. Be mindful of the budget. The board has approved a yearly amount for the contract, and you should be careful not to accept a bid that will exceed it.”

“Got it. Anything else, Sal?”

“Not at the moment. But I’ll check back in with you at the end of next week. Have a good day, Marco.”

“You, too.”

The video call ended and the screen faded to black. As quiet settled over his office again, Marco wondered how he was going to find a security firm to take on the job of protecting his bank branch. If it were left solely up to him, he would have sought a private security firm much earlier. But the board’s primary concern was that the branch met certain profitability goals first. When the Charlotte branch had hit the benchmark for the fiscal year ending this past summer, Marco had been thrilled.

He’d been looking for a firm for almost a month, and now he had only a few days to find someone. It would be a difficult feat to accomplish, but Marco had set his mind to more difficult things and succeeded. He was determined not to disappoint the board, or Sal. He felt extremely fortunate to have such a good working relationship with him. Sal knew him better than most people in his life, and was the closest thing he’d had to a brother while growing up in Costa Rica.

Marco picked up his hands-free headset and put it on. He figured his best bet was to call up his friends and colleagues in the local financial sector and see if anyone could offer a recommendation. The size of his budget for the contract dictated that he’d need a smaller, local firm as opposed to a state-or nationwide one.

After seventy solid minutes of making calls, Marco removed his headset and looked at the names of the three firms he’d jotted on a notepad atop his desk. He used the intercom system to buzz his branch manager.

A few moments later, Roosevelt Hunter opened the office door and entered. Roosevelt, a tall, fit black man in his fifties, was Marco’s next in command. “What do you need, Marco?” Having been employed at the branch since it opened, Roosevelt had finally started calling Marco by his first name, as he’d requested from day one.

Marco tore the top sheet from his notepad, and handed it to the branch manager. “Roosevelt, could you contact these three security firms and solicit proposals from them?”

Taking the offered paper, Roosevelt nodded. “I’m on it. What day do you want them to come in?”

Marco scratched his chin. “If anyone can have their proposal drawn up and ready to present tomorrow after lunch, let them know they’ll have a leg up.”

One of Roosevelt’s brows rose. “You mean you want to sit through security proposals on a Friday afternoon?”

Marco chuckled. “Not really, but I’m on a tight deadline here, so I don’t have much of a choice.”

Roosevelt gave him a mock salute. “Whatever you say, boss. I’ll get right on it.” He turned and left the office, closing the door behind him.

Marco glanced at his gold wristwatch. It was a quarter till one, but he’d become accustomed to taking his lunch later than most. He didn’t have any desire to go out, so he grabbed his smartphone and placed a call to have his food delivered. After he hung up, he eased his chair closer to the desk, and started on the stack of paperwork on the desk awaiting his signature.

After all, the forms weren’t going to sign themselves.

Chapter 2

Friday morning, Joi’s efforts in reaching out to her business contacts paid off in the form of a phone call to the office. She smiled through the entire call, and by the time she hung up with the man on the other end, she was pretty sure she’d found the perfect opportunity to get Citadel operating in the black again.

She called out for Karen, who was working in her office next door.

“We only have a few hours to pull together a proposal.”

Karen’s brow hitched, her face reflecting her confusion. “A proposal for what?”

“I just spoke to a Mr. Roosevelt Hunter, the branch manager at Royal Bank and Trust. They’re looking for a new security contractor, and apparently someone recommended us.”

Karen’s confusion melted into a smile. “Great. But why don’t we have more time to get the proposal together?”

Joi shrugged. “Mr. Hunter says they’re on a tight deadline to make a choice, and that if we could make our pitch this afternoon, it would give us a major advantage.”

“What time is your appointment?”

“Two o’clock.” Joi noted her business partner’s emphasis of the word your. Karen was many things: fashionable, organized and extremely intelligent. She was also pretty shy, which meant she never accompanied Joi to things like this. Karen much preferred to be left alone with her computer.

Leaning against the door frame, Karen spoke again. “Gather your stuff and meet me in the conference room.”

Karen disappeared, and Joi got up and began to gather the supplies they would need. When she had everything tucked into the wheeled caddy she kept by her desk, she took it down the short hallway to the small conference room at the end.

The black lacquer table centering the room seated six people. Each of the four corners held a live fern in a wicker planter. Vertical blinds covered the tall windows on one side of the room.

Karen was already seated at one end of the table when Joi walked in. “When are we going to hang some pictures or something in here?”

Joi glanced at the blank, aqua-hued wall opposite the window. Sliding into her seat next to Karen, she shrugged. “I don’t know. I thought the bright-colored paint was decoration enough.”

A few moments later, they laid their paper and pens out on the table, and began the process of drawing up a proposal. As they conversed about what they would offer Royal, Joi took notes in a small notebook, while Karen typed away at the keys of her laptop.

As morning turned into afternoon, Karen finished the proposal, and hit Send to print the document via the office’s wireless printer. After Joi retrieved it, she deposited the papers into a navy-and-yellow folder with the Citadel logo emblazoned on the front of it. “This is it, Karen. This is the winning bid on that bank contract.”

Karen stood, stretching her arms over her head. “I hope you’re right. Can we break for lunch now?”

Glancing at her phone, Joi nodded. “We need to. It’s a quarter after twelve, and I gotta have time to eat, freshen up and drive over to the bank before my appointment.”

Karen moved past her. “I’ll hang out here and order in. Go on and grab lunch, then go knock ’em dead.”

“Thanks, Karen.” Joi spent a few minutes making sure she had everything she’d need for the afternoon, then departed.

A little over an hour later, she pulled her black single-cab pickup truck bearing the Citadel logo into a space behind Royal Bank and Trust. She’d stopped in the restroom of the diner she’d had lunch in to change. Forgoing her usual uniform, she’d chosen a pair of gray wool trousers and a matching blazer, paired with a bright red blouse. As she exited her truck and faced the chilly November wind, she was grateful for the warmth of the outfit. Moving across the lot as quickly as she could in her high-heeled red leather booties, she entered the building with the proposal tucked beneath her arm.

She looked around the interior of the bank, familiarizing herself with the layout. Knowing the lay of the land would be the first step in protecting the bank’s assets. She took a few moments to walk the perimeter of the space. The bank’s lobby was reasonably large, considering the size of the building as it appeared from the outside. It was also pretty typical of a bank. A central desk staffed by three tellers at separate windows, a set of tall tables to the left side of the entrance stocked with forms and pens, and a waiting area to the right. A glass wall separated a corridor from the open lobby, accessed by a set of double doors. In the corridor were two small offices belonging to the bank’s branch manager and loan officer, according to the signs on the doors.

Joi wandered over to the narrow hallway beyond the offices, to where she assumed the vault was located. Just as she approached the round metal disk-shaped door, someone tapped her on the shoulder.

Joi whirled around, poised to act.

A chocolate-skinned man of average height stood there. Apparently he sensed her agitation, because he took a large step back as he spoke. “I’m Roosevelt Hunter. Are you Ms. Lewis?”

She relaxed her stance right away. “Yes, I am.” She stuck her hand out. “Nice to meet you, Mr. Hunter. Sorry about that.”

Roosevelt offered a smile. “It’s fine. Impressive reflexes, Ms. Lewis.”

Inside she was mortified, but outwardly she smiled. “Thank you.”

“Mr. Alvarez is ready to see you.”

Joi followed the branch manager as he led her farther down the hallway she’d been exploring. Turning a corner they came to a sizable office. The glass-paned door to the office stood open.

With a nod to Mr. Hunter, Joi stepped inside the office, with her free hand extended. “Good afternoon, Mr. Alvarez. I’m...”

The dark-haired man seated behind the desk looked up. His bronzed face held eyes that were dark, assessing and familiar.

Fixing her with a piercing gaze, he stood to his full height and cut her off midsentence. “I know who you are.”

* * *

Marco stared at the woman standing in front of his desk, torn between disbelief and irritation. Could the woman who’d abandoned his friend Ernesto at the altar really be there, in his office?

“I, um. I...” she stammered, as if she were still attempting to identify herself.

He folded his arms over his chest, taking in the sight of her shapely, smartly dressed form. “Like I said, I know who you are. Why are you here, Joi?”

She seemed to recover her professional demeanor then. She tucked her shoulders back and stood tall. “It’s two o’clock. I am the owner of Citadel Security, and we have an appointment.”

“Is that so?” He felt his brow furrow. If someone in full makeup and a clown suit had shown up for the appointment, he would have been less surprised.

“Yes, and if you don’t mind, I’d like to make my presentation.” She handed him a dark blue folder. When he opened it, he found several pages of neatly typed facts and figures.

His eyes drifted from the carefully prepared report and back to her face. Her earlier discomfort had disappeared, leaving behind nothing but confidence. If she were intimidated by his standoffish manner, she didn’t let on.

He returned to his seat, straightened his tie. “Yes, Ms. Lewis. Go ahead.” If she could keep things strictly business, then so could he. Based on her demeanor, his expectations for her proposal were very high.

Mindful of the edict he’d received from Sal, Marco paid close attention to Joi’s presentation. He took a few moments to leaf through the pages inside the folder she’d given him, which provided a written representation of everything she was saying. He noted how astute she was, and how thorough a vision she had for serving Royal’s security needs. He also noticed the way the soft fabric of her suit hugged the lines of her body, which was far curvier than it had been six years prior. Looking at her now made it seem as if that had been a lifetime ago.

Feeling a building warmth in the room, he loosened his tie. He watched her glossy, cherry-red lips move as she spoke.

Her mouth stopped moving, and she watched him, an expectant look spread across her face. Suddenly, he realized she’d asked him a question. “Pardon me?”

“I asked if you had any questions for me, Mr. Alvarez.” Annoyance registered in her expression, only for a moment, before she returned to her convivial smile.

Drawing his focus away from her appearance, he sat back in his chair and tented his fingers. “You’ve given a thorough proposal, and I’m impressed. The only thing I need to know now is your bid.”

She quoted him the amount.

His brow hitched in surprise. Her bid was within a few thousand dollars of the budget the board had approved for him. Only one other company had bid today, and their offer had so far exceeded the budget, Marco already knew he wouldn’t be calling them back. By his own honest assessment, if Citadel could deliver all the benefits that Joi had promised, Royal would be getting them for a steal.

“How does that sound to you, Mr. Alvarez?”

He was thrilled, but he knew better than to reveal that in a business negotiation. Tempering his reaction, he offered a slow, noncommittal nod. “I think it’s a reasonable offer.” Since she was still standing, and he planned to draw the encounter out a bit more, he gestured to the guest chair near her. “Please, have a seat.”

With a curt shake of her head, she replied, “I prefer to stand.”

He had to assume she was making a show of dedication, or of stamina. Something told him that even with the specter of their past history hanging between them, she was too serious about her business to let anything petty interfere with their interactions.

Deciding he’d test that, he asked her, “What have you been up to these past few years, Ms. Lewis?”

Her lovely brown face crinkled a bit. “I’m sorry, but I don’t understand what that has to do with my proposal.”

He shrugged. “I’m simply curious as to what path you took after we parted, and how it brought you into my presence again.”

She blinked a few times, her soft brown eyes darting around the interior of his office. “I took a few continuing education classes and opened an office for my security firm. Basically, I’ve been working on my dream since the last time I saw you.”

He thought back on those days, when he’d known a totally different Joi Lewis than the one standing before him now. But she’d always been tough, and that hadn’t changed. “I see.”

As if she sensed where the conversation was headed, she squared her shoulders. “Let me level with you, Mr. Alvarez. I know you may have a negative opinion of me, due to what happened in the past. But I stand behind my decision, and I hope you’ll respect me enough as a professional that you won’t let that incident affect your decision.”

He watched her, noting that she’d only referred to her abandonment of Ernesto at the altar as an “incident.” It came across a little crass, but she was right. They were both professionals, and it would be unethical and ill-advised for him to flatly deny Citadel’s bid because of something that had happened years ago.

A few silent moments passed with each of them assessing the other.

Finally, he spoke. “Ms. Lewis, I’m not going to allow anything to shape the decisions I make for Royal, except for my best judgment of what is most beneficial to the company.”

She nodded, keeping her expression flat.

“I noticed in your material that Citadel has an all-female staff. Why is that?”

“My guards are all accomplished women, decorated military veterans or experienced former law enforcement officers. Despite their credentials, it’s difficult for them to find work. I aim to remedy that.”

“Out of altruism?” He watched her, anticipating her answer.

She held his gaze. “Out of good business sense.”

He offered a smile, impressed by her savvy. “That’s why I’m going to offer Citadel the contract right now. But be aware, your company will need to complete a thirty-day trial period, and if for any reason I or my branch manager are dissatisfied, we’ll have to rescind our offer.”

For the first time since she’d stepped into his office, she gave him a full, genuine smile. The wide spread of her ruby lips showed off two rows of pearly-white teeth. “I understand completely. Thank you, Mr. Alvarez. Citadel will go above and beyond your expectations, I promise.”

He stood, moved around the side of his desk, with his hand extended toward her.

She approached him, shook his hand.

He knew that this was an everyday gesture in business, merely a sign of good faith to seal their professional agreement. Logic told him their handshake would be just like any other he shared with an associate during the course of his day at work.

But the moment his hand closed around hers, he felt something. It was subtle, but undeniable, like a charge of static electricity running up his arm. He looked down at their joined hands. The softness of her skin, along with her feminine fragrance wafting toward his nostrils, made him feel like an awkward teen who’d just scored a date with the head cheerleader.

The moment lengthened. They’d already shaken hands, but for some reason, he hesitated to release his grip.

When he let his gaze rise to her face, he could see the flush of heat making its way up from the column of her throat and into her nut-brown cheeks. She was, in one word, stunning.

She cleared her throat, breaking the spell of the moment.

He released her hand, and took a step back to give her some personal space.

“If there’s nothing else, I really need to get back to the office and prepare my employees.” She’d already moved back to where she’d been standing.

“There’s nothing more at the moment.” He uttered the words while he watched her stoop to pick up her purse from the floor. The soft fabric of her slacks stretched around her full hips, and his pleasure at the sight caught him so off guard. He turned away.

“I’ll return with my guards bright and early Monday morning.” She moved toward the door, but stopped there to await his direction.

He shook his head. “Tuesday. Monday is Veterans Day, and the bank will be closed.”

“Got it. I’ll see you then. And thank you again, Mr. Alvarez.” She blessed him with another slight smile before disappearing through the open office door.

Returning to his seat behind the desk, he looked at the open folder she’d left him. He promised himself he would go over the documents again later, when he wasn’t so distracted and out of sorts.

After today’s interaction with Joi, he wondered if “distracted” was about to become his default state.

Chapter 3

That evening, Joi and Karen took all eight of their employees out to celebrate winning the security contract for Royal Bank and Trust. The women were now seated around a large table in the rear of Mimosa Grill, enjoying their meals and each other’s company.

Joi looked around at the faces of the women. Their workplace sisterhood was something she cherished, because it made doing what she loved that much better.

With that in mind, she stood and tapped her water glass with the tines of a fork. “I’d like to make a toast.”

The women around the table halted their conversations, and looked her way.

Lifting her glass high, Joi continued. “To the women of Citadel. Protecting the business assets of this city isn’t easy, but we’re just the right women for the job.”

“Here, here.” An assortment of goblets and glasses were raised in salute.

Sitting back down, Joi felt Karen jab her in the ribs with her elbow.

“Why didn’t you give my toast?” Karen’s mock pout was pronounced.

“No, Karen. If you want to give it go ahead, but I’m the boss and I’m not about to say that.”

Rolling her eyes playfully, Karen backed off.

Kim, a Marine veteran and the elder stateswoman of Citadel’s guard staff, raised her glass. “I’ll do it, Karen. Here’s to those who wish us well. And those who don’t, can go to hell.”

The women around the table broke out in peals of laughter. Mindful of her role as the owner and guard supervisor, Joi contained her mirth. Still, she couldn’t stop the smile from spreading across her face at the snarky declaration.

“I’m just glad we were able to get the contract.” The comment came from Carol, a thirtysomething mother of two who was formerly one of Charlotte’s finest. “I enjoyed my time walking my beat, but I’m not trying to go back to the force. Not at my age.”

“I feel you.” Joi knew that even on her easiest day on the police force, Carol’s old job was never as relaxed as her current post, guarding the patrons and assets of a ritzy dog salon in midtown Charlotte. Along with Carol, both Maxine and Traci, two of the other guards on Citadel’s staff, came from police backgrounds.

Rose, swallowing a bite of her food, chimed in. “I agree. I’m way past the age of going back on deck. I’ve been on land so long I’m sure I’ve lost my sea legs. Right, Sheryl?”

Sheryl nodded, but chose not to speak around a mouthful of food. Both she and Rose had served in the US Navy.

Yolanda and Jackie, the two guards who’d been displaced from their positions when Mrs. Clark’s boutique had shut down, were both Army vets. Joi felt the two of them were particularly suited to the bank contract, since they were both taller and more muscular in build. Of all the places Citadel had a security presence, Joi was sure the bank was the place where physical prowess was most likely to become necessary.

Yolanda, scrolling through something on her phone, quipped, “I’m looking forward to handling the bank job. I just know some young buck is gonna try to break bad with me.”

Jackie snickered. “You’re always looking for a fight.”

Yolanda shook her head. “Not really. I just won’t back down from one.”

Joi shook her head, as well. She was used to that type of banter between the two of them. Yolanda could be a bit of a hothead, but she was also a professional. Aside from that, Jackie’s cool and collected nature provided the perfect balance that made the two of them such a great team.

Joi scooted her hips over the leather seat of the booth’s bench, bumping into Karen. “Let me out.” All the iced tea she’d been drinking was now looking for a new home.

Karen stood, allowing Joi to scoot out of the booth.

On her feet now, Joi told the rest of the girls, “I’ll be back.” Then she turned and went off in search of the ladies’ room.

Within a few minutes, she’d handled her needs, washed up and checked her reflection. As she left the ladies’ room, heading back for her booth, she saw a dark-haired man in a suit coming toward her.

That can’t be who I think it is.

Most of the light in the place was coming from the recessed lighting in the ceiling, which made it hard to see clearly. She slowed her steps as she came closer to the man.

His steps did not slow.

By the time she realized it really was Marco Alvarez strolling her way, he’d already entered her personal space.

“Ah, Ms. Lewis. It is you.” His hand was gripped around the handles of a large plastic bag bearing the restaurant’s logo.

“Hello, Mr. Alvarez. My team and I were just enjoying a meal together. We have a very good rapport with one another.” She drummed her fingertips against her thigh.

“I gather that, based on all the noise coming from your table.”

Her eyebrow hitched. Just how long had he been there? And why in the hell had he been listening in on their conversation? She had many questions, but she knew better than to ask them. “I hope we aren’t the reason you’re taking your meal to go.” She gestured to his bag.

He shook his head, a half smile on his face. “No. I always get my food to go here. I don’t care for the atmosphere half as much as I do the ribs.”

“I see.” She moved to his right, hoping to walk around him and put an end to their awkward conversation. But before she could make two good steps, he cleared his throat.

Sensing he was trying to get her attention, she stopped walking, and turned back in his direction. “Yes, Mr. Alvarez?”

The half smile remained on his handsome, burnished face. “You can call me Marco, you know.”

As she viewed the appealing shagginess of his slight five o’clock shadow, she shook her head. “I think it’s better if we keep things professional between us, Mr. Alvarez.” She emphasized the title and his last name.

He scratched his chin with his free hand, as if thinking about something. “No one else who works in the bank calls me Mr. Alvarez.”

Now it was her turn to smile. “I assure you, Mr. Alvarez, I’m not like anyone who works in your bank.”

And with that, she turned on her heel and started walking back toward her table.

* * *

Watching Joi’s back as she walked away, Marco felt his brow furrow. Had she just dismissed him? He was pretty sure she had, because he hadn’t had a chance to say what was on his mind. He was also pretty sure that he didn’t like her walking away from him that way. If their business relationship was going to work out, she needed to know that.

With the bag containing his rapidly cooling food in his hand, he strolled across the dining room, in the direction he’d seen her retreat. When he located the corner booth where she was sitting, he stopped beside it.

Letting the bevy of women see his most dazzling smile, he announced his presence. “Good evening, ladies. Are you enjoying yourselves?”

A bumper crop of smiles, cooed greetings and appreciative glances were flung his way, which only served to brighten his smile. Women had been responding to him this way since he was a boy of ten, and tonight was no exception.

He noted that, once again, Joi seemed immune to his charms. She was the only woman at the table whose face didn’t appear welcoming. While her friends were basically batting their eyelashes at him, Joi looked like she was sucking a lemon.

Finally, she announced, “Ladies, this is Marco Alvarez.”

That seemed to sober the atmosphere at the table, because all of the women dialed back their overt flirting right away. He wondered what Joi had said to them about him.

Speaking again, he asked, “Would you mind if I stole Ms. Lewis for a moment?”

All eyes at the table turned to Joi. He could see her squirming under the scrutiny, and he also saw the rosy color rising into her cheeks.

Her expression remained flat and unreadable as she said, “Sure, Mr. Alvarez.”

The woman beside Joi allowed her out of the booth, and once she was on her feet, Marco made a sweeping gesture. “We can step outside. I promise this won’t take long.”

She said nothing, but walked past him in the direction of the door.

He took in her attire as he moved behind her. She’d changed from the business suit he’d seen her in at their eventful interview. Now, she wore a figure-hugging sweater dress, in a soft orange color that complemented her skin tone beautifully. The dress reached her ankles, and had long sleeves, but there was no denying the shapely body beneath the garment. Walking behind her made it fairly difficult to avoid staring at her derriere, but he raised his gaze nonetheless.

Once they were both outside the glass doors of the restaurant, sheltered beneath a black-and-gold awning, she stopped and turned to him. “What is this about, Mr. Alvarez?”

Unable to hold the words back, he spoke. “You look very nice tonight, Ms. Lewis.”

She folded her arms across her chest, but kept her expression unreadable. “Thank you, but I hope you didn’t ask me to come out here just to tell me that.”

He wanted to scoff, but refrained. He sensed that would only make their interactions more unpleasant. “No. This is about the two of us.”

One of her neatly shaped brows rose.

He realized she might be getting the wrong impression, so he sought to clarify his statement. “If we’re going to have a good working relationship, I’ll need to know I can trust you.”

She shifted her weight, and dropped her arms. “I come highly recommended, and I have an impeccable record of getting the job done for my clients.”

“I know that. But we’re going to have to address our past history, Joi. I’m going to want an explanation of what happened between you and...”

She put up her hand. “I’d rather not hear his name. And that is a personal matter between him and me, not something that should be brought up between us.”

“So you’re not going to address it at all?”

She shrugged. “There’s nothing to address. What happened six years ago has no bearing on my ability to perform the job you’ve contracted me for. Are we done here?”

He could see her gaze was focused on the restaurant door. Since she wasn’t going to tell him anything, he didn’t see any good reason to hold her up. “Yes, Ms. Lewis. I’ll see you Tuesday. I like to get my guards acclimated for the first couple of weeks before I step back and let them do their job.”

“Thank you.” As the curt response left her lips, she strode past him, and disappeared into the restaurant.

For a few moments, he stood in her wake. Then he took his probably cold food to his car, climbed in and started the engine.

As he drove through the streets of midtown Charlotte, he engaged his car’s hands-free calling functionality to call his mother.

When her voice came over the speaker, he smiled. “Feliz cumpleonos, Mama.”

Her response was tinged with delight. “Thank you, Marco. You are such a good son. You never forget your Mama’s birthday, no matter how busy you are.”

He chuckled. Today had been a hectic one, but he would never forget a day so special. “Of course not. Did you get the flowers I sent you?”

“Yes, and thank you for those, too. They are gorgeous. But don’t you think you went a little overboard? They must have been very expensive.”

“No price is too high for you, Mama.” Sure, sending sixty-five yellow roses to his mother, all the way back home in Costa Rica, had been costly. But since he couldn’t be there in person, he’d thought it appropriate to send her the flowers in her favorite color, with one bloom for each year she’d graced the earth with her presence.

“You’re such a dear, but you know I hate being fussed over.”

He shook his head, knowing the exact opposite to be true. “Enjoy them, Mama.”

“I am, but don’t spend so much next time. You already work much too hard, and I don’t want you going into debt on frivolity.”

“Yes, Mama.” He knew that was the only response she would accept.

“You know what I really want for my birthday, or for any day, for that matter.”

He sighed. He’d known this was coming, but he’d hoped the grand gesture of the flowers would distract her from it. “Yes, Mama. I know. You want grandchildren.”

“At this point, I would settle for a grandchild, singular. When are you going to settle down and bring me some babies to spoil?”

Keeping his eyes on the road, even as his mind searched for the proper response, he swung his car into his driveway. “Mama, when the time is right, I will settle down. You have my word.”

With love in her voice, she said, “I only want happiness for you, my dear.”

“I know, Mama. I love you, and I’ll call you again in a few days. Give my best to Papa.”

“I love you, as well.”

He ended the call just as he pulled into his garage. A few moments later, he cut the engine. Grabbing the bag from the passenger seat, he took his food inside the house.

The echoes of his mother’s words dogged him at each step.

Chapter 4

“Something doesn’t look right.” Joi tilted her head slightly to the right, trying to look at her painting from a different angle. But no matter how she stared, it still bore little resemblance to the potted white orchid she was supposed to be re-creating.

She was sitting on a low stool at Wine and Whimsy, taking their Saturday-evening class. The wine and paint shop, owned by her older sister, Joanne, was her favorite weekend hangout. While she didn’t think she had any talent for painting at all, she recognized the stress-relieving power of creativity.

Joanne, clad in her bright blue apron, eased over to where she sat. “Complaining about your painting again? I could hear you grousing on the other side of the room.”

Adding another stroke of white paint to one of her misshapen petals, Joi blew out a breath. “Mine doesn’t look anything like the display. I suck at this.”

The woman next to her, who was about halfway into her second glass of merlot, said, “It looks pretty good to me. Maybe you just haven’t had enough wine.”

Joanne chuckled. “Loretta’s right, in a way. Relax, and stop being such a perfectionist. Art is all about interpretation, and self-expression.”

Joi looked from her sister to the painting and back again. “Well, that must mean I interpret this flower to be crooked, and I’m expressing it that way.”

“Whatever, girl. I’m going to help somebody who’s actually paying for this.” With a shake of her head, Joanne moved on to converse with another “budding artist.”

Watching her sister waft around the room like a cool breeze, Joi smiled. Growing up, the two of them had occupied very specific roles in their household. Joanne, three years older than Joi, had been the tall, graceful sister with a talent for the arts. Joi had been the shorter, more awkward tomboy, who’d excelled in sports. Both of them had performed well academically, but while Joi pursued her criminal justice degree at North Carolina Central University, Joanne had gotten her bachelor of fine arts from the Art Institute of Atlanta. Following in the footsteps of their mother, Emma, a seamstress who owned a small clothing boutique, both Joanne and Joi had gone on to find fulfillment and success in entrepreneurship.

After spending the remainder of the class trying to even out the crooked petals of her painted orchid, Joi threw in the towel and put down her brush. Her hands and the blue smock she wore were stained with paint, as was the plastic wineglass she’d been drinking rosé from. Narrowing her eyes at the painting, she had to agree with Loretta. Now that she had a full glass of wine in her system, her painting did look a whole lot better.

Once the other women had emptied out of the shop, Joanne returned to her side. “Are you ready to hang it yet? Because I’m technically closed, and I would like to go home sometime tonight.”

Lifting the painting from the easel, Joi handed it over to her sister. “Yep. But hang it in the back, by your office.”

Joanne accepted the canvas, and Joi looked on as she took it to the short hallway that led to her office, the break room and the restrooms of the shop. Once the painting was hung, she returned. “It will only be there for a few days, until it dries. You can come pick it up then.”

Joi nodded. “I will. I’m not sure I want you to keep it on permanent display.”

Folding her arms across her chest, Joanne narrowed her eyes. “Joi, what’s up with you?”

Feeling a little uncomfortable under her older sister’s knowing gaze, she started cleaning up her paint station. “What do you mean?”

“Girl, please. You’ve got something on your mind, and we both know it, so you might as well spill it.”

With a sigh, Joi tucked her brushes into the well of cleaning solution. “Remember I told you I won that bank contract for Citadel?”

“Yeah, what about it?”

“Well, what I didn’t tell you is that Marco Alvarez is the bank president, so technically, I’ll be working for him.”

Joanne’s brow creased at the mention of Marco’s name. “Marco. Marco. The name sounds familiar, but where do you know him from?”

Sliding the stool under the table, Joi said, “He was Ernesto’s best man.”

Surprise widened Joanne’s eyes. “Oh.”

“Oh is right.”

“I’m guessing he wants some answers about what happened back then.” Joanne grabbed a cloth and began wiping down the ten paint stations scattered around the main room.

“Yes. As a matter of fact, I ran into him at Mimosa Grill last night, and he brought it up.”

“What did you tell him?”

“Nothing, except that what happened between Ernesto and I is a personal matter that has nothing to do with my work.”

“Hmm.” Joanne probably had something else to say on the matter, but she kept it to herself.

“I don’t know if he’ll bring it up again, or what I’ll say if he does. And if that’s not bad enough...” Joi let her voice trail off as she picked up a second cloth to help her sister with the closing duties.

“What? What aren’t you saying?”

“I...well...I kind of like him.”

Joanne stopped scrubbing, turning wide eyes on her baby sister. “Joi, are you trying to tell me you’re attracted to him?”

“He’s fine, Joanne. I mean, he was good-looking back in the day, but now he’s completely, totally, utterly, five-alarm smoking hot.”

Still staring, Joanne stammered, “But he’s your ex-fiancé’s friend, Joi. And he’s about to be your boss! Ain’t nobody that damn hot.”

“I beg to differ.” Joi pulled out her smartphone, and did a quick internet image search. When she found Marco’s photo on the bank’s website, she sidled over to where her sister stood furiously scrubbing a blob of red paint off the tabletop and showed it to her. “Look at him.”

Joanne’s eyes rounded even more, and her bottom jaw dropped so fast and far, Joi though it might hit the floor.

“Well?” Joi waited.

“Damn.” Joanne’s one-word response was half sighed, half spoken.

A vindicated Joi tucked the phone back into the hip pocket of her jeans. “Like I said, five-alarm hotness.”

Joanne, staring ahead into space as if she could still see Marco’s photo, had a look of amazement on her face. “He has that whole tall, dark and handsome thing going on. But he took it to the max.” After a few seconds, she seemed to snap out of it, and went back to scrubbing.

“I told you. How do you think I felt when I walked into his office for my appointment? It was all I could do not to drool on his desk during my proposal.”

Joanne, having finally removed the stubborn paint stain, tossed her cloth back into the bucket and shook her head slowly. “Congrats on containing your drool, I know that wasn’t easy. But you do know that if you start something up with him, you’ll be asking for trouble, right?”

“I never said I was going to start anything with him, I just pointed out how fine he was.”

Joanne hit her with a side-eyed glance. “Girl, please. If you’re standing here telling me all this, you’re thinking about it. Not that I blame you. That man is finer than frog’s hair.”

Joi made a fist and punched her sister in the shoulder. “Stop teasing me, Jo.”

Feigning injury from the playful blow, Joanne grimaced. “All kidding aside, be careful, Joi. I don’t want to see you get hurt, nor do I want to see your business go down in flames, all because you couldn’t resist getting busy with the Casanova banker here.”

Joi, shrugging into her coat, smacked her lips. “I’m not planning on anything like that happening, Joanne. I can’t just think about myself. I’ve got a business partner and several employees to consider, so I can’t afford to be frivolous.”

“I just hope you remember that the next time you’re alone in a room with Marco.” Joanne tightened the belt on her own coat.

“I will.” Even as Joi spoke the words, she wondered if she could really deny the intense attraction sparking between her and Marco, or if she even wanted to.

“Let’s go. I want to get home before too late, so I can look in on Marlon.” Joanne smiled as she spoke of her six-year-old son with her husband, Victor.

“Cool. I wouldn’t dream of keeping my nephew from his mommy.” Joi walked toward the door her sister held open for her, and after Joanne locked up, the two of them got into Joanne’s minivan and departed.

* * *

His eyes settled on the big-screen television displaying the Carolina-Atlanta football game, and Marco popped a cheese fry into his mouth. The open window blinds at the Brash Bull allowed the deceptively bright sunlight to stream into the sports bar’s interior, casting thin beams of light on the concrete floor. Glancing out that window might make one think it was warm outside, but Marco knew better. He’d ventured out into the biting chill of this mid-November Sunday. If it weren’t for his affection for football and the company of his friends, he would have stayed home. Again he wondered if he’d ever get used to the chill that hung in the air this time of year, making him long for the balmy shores of his home back in Limón.

Seated around the table with him were his three friends and bandmates, Darius, Rashad and Ken. Together, the four of them were the jazz quartet known as the Queen City Gents. Darius, retired and wealthy at thirty-seven thanks to his tech-savvy invention, played the upright bass. Rashad, a museum curator, sang lead vocals and played piano. And Ken, an architect originally from Japan, acted as the quartet’s drummer. Marco’s tenor saxophone rounded out the group. He liked to think his skills on the golden horn added a special depth and richness to the Gents’ music.

Rashad, who had recently returned from his honeymoon in Trinidad and Tobago with his new wife, Lina, pounded his fist on the table. “Damn. We’ve got more turnovers today than a bakery.”

Marco chuckled, his friend was right. Cheering for Carolina could sometimes be difficult, but the four of them weren’t fair-weather or bandwagon fans. “Don’t worry. Remember, we really come alive in the second half.”

Darius, draining the last of the root beer in his mug, groused, “Yeah, but we need to start playing all four quarters. This is bad for my nerves.”

Ken, looking up from the screen of his tablet, snorted a laugh. “Statistically, the odds are in Carolina’s favor. So don’t sweat it.”

Marco shook his head. They all knew that Ken never got very excited about anything, hence his nickname, “Ken the Zen.”

Washing down his buffalo wings with a swig of lemonade, Rashad smiled. “Even if we lose, knowing I get to go home to Lina makes everything all right.”

That comment split the group into two factions: the married men, and the single ones. Marco and Ken both offered groans, as if offended by Rashad’s sentimental observation.

Darius gave Rashad a hard slap on the back as he nodded in agreement. “Amen to that, man. Nothing like the love of a good woman.” He shared a knowing grin with Rashad, as if they were members of some kind of secret club.

With a roll of his eyes, Marco remarked, “You two are so whipped. A year ago neither of you were even interested in a relationship. Now suddenly you’re the poster boys for upstanding husbands?”

“Stop hating, Marco. You know you want what we have.” Darius cut him with a hard stare.

“Why would I want to give up my freedom?”

Rashad shook his head. “I used to think I was giving up something, and I guess, in a way, I did. But what I gained is worth so much more.”

“Right. My life is a thousand times better now that I have Eve in my life.” Darius leaned back in his chair, a wistful look on his face. “And with the baby coming, my life is really going to be complete.”

“Wow. You two are really drinking the marriage Kool-Aid.” Marco looked across the table at the men, his closest friends. The grins Darius and Rashad wore spoke to their happiness, but it was still difficult for him to wrap his mind around it.

Their transformation from single guys to family men was something he still hadn’t gotten used to. Deep down, he supposed they were still the same guys he’d met all those years ago, when he’d first showed up at rehearsal to answer their ad for a saxophonist. Still, the sappy nature of their recent conversations had begun to stick in his craw.

“Whatever. I know it was the best decision I ever made.” Rashad redirected his attention toward the television, now showing the halftime show.

Marco stuffed another cheese fry into his mouth. He would never admit it aloud, but he felt a twinge of jealousy at his friends’ declarations of bliss. Who wouldn’t? They made marriage sound like the best thing since the invention of twenty-four-hour sports coverage. He’d had his share of experience with marriage, from watching his parents. They’d been married more than forty years, so he knew true love wasn’t a myth. He also knew that with love and marriage came children, bills and more responsibility than he ever wanted to have. No, he wasn’t marriage material, but then again, not everybody was meant for marital bliss. “I can have any woman I want, so why should I settle for just one? Am I right, Ken?” Marco dug his elbow into Ken’s forearm.

Ken, seated to Marco’s right, glanced up from the glowing screen of his tablet, a confused look on his face. “Sorry, what did you say?”

Marco scoffed. “Thanks for the backup, man.”

“You’re welcome.” With a shrug, Ken dropped his eyes back to the screen, and kept right on scrolling.

As the halftime show ended and coverage returned to the game, silence fell over the table. Marco felt a modicum of relief. While he didn’t begrudge his friends living their lives as they saw fit, all that stuff about wives and babies really put a damper on the whole male bonding thing.

The rest of the game went by with only conversation surrounding cheering for the home team to crush the visiting squad. In the end, Carolina won out by three points, thanks to the kicker’s flawless field goal attempt. That got everybody at the table on their feet, laughing and exchanging high fives.

While the waitress cleared the table of their empty plates and mugs, Darius spoke up. “Oh yeah, guys, I almost forgot. I got a call from Dave, and it looks like we’re in for the Winter Jazz Festival.”

Marco’s ears perked up at that. “Awesome! Who are we opening for? Who are we following?”

Ken, having finally tucked his tablet away, asked, “What are we making on this gig?”

Darius snorted a laugh, shaking his head. “All right, Gents, one question at a time. We’re going on before Mint Condition, and following Eric Jackson. So step your game up, sax man.” He looked at Marco and gave him a playful thump on the forehead.

Marco thumped him back. “My sax game is always on point.”

Rashad, leaning against the short dividing wall behind their table, chimed in. “I’m with Ken. I wanna know how much we’re getting paid. Lina’s got expensive tastes.” He chuckled at his own joke.

“The deal is four grand up front, plus two percent of the ticket sales. In other words, if we advertise the festival every week at our shows, we can raise our take.” Darius fished his phone out of his pocket and looked at the screen. “The festival is the second weekend of December, so keep your calendars clear.”

Ken remarked, “Us? Isn’t your wife due around that time?”

Darius nodded. “She’s due at the end of this month, and if she’s late, they’ll induce her.”

Rashad snickered. “Based on what Lina’s been telling me, Eve’s miserable. Trust me, she ain’t holding that kid in any longer than necessary.”

“Quit teasing my wife. You’ll be there soon enough.” Darius gave Rashad a fake punch in the shoulder.

Marco laughed to himself at their horseplay. Yeah, they were definitely the same dudes he’d grown to know and...tolerate. “Sounds good. Even if we don’t do anything to help them sell tickets, we should still make a decent amount of cash on top of the up-front money. What are we doing with it this time?”

Darius gestured to Ken, who was shrugging into his dark brown trench coat. “It’s Ken’s turn to pick.”

Ken, busy patting his pockets in search of something, replied, “Children’s Miracle Network.”

Marco nodded his approval. “Good deal, man. By the way, your keys are on the table.”

Ceasing the fruitless patting, Ken finally spotted the keys among the pile of crumpled napkins on the tabletop, and picked them up. “Thanks.”

Each time the Gents performed at a paid gig, they donated half the money to a charity and split the difference. Since the four of them were all pretty well set financially, they’d all agreed to put that portion of their earnings toward helping causes they supported. In the past, they’d donated to veterans’ charities, homeless shelters and organizations that provided services to battered women.

As the men exchanged goodbyes and left the Brash Bull, Marco thought about the coming week, and everything it would hold. Most of his concern centered on Joi, and the attraction buzzing between them like an electric current. He wasn’t fully sure he could trust her, yet he couldn’t stop himself from admiring the woman she’d become. Shaking his head, he unlocked his car door and climbed inside the cabin.

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