Surrender To Me. Donna Hill
“Good evening, ladies. Do you have a reservation?” the hostess asked.
“No. We don’t,” Kerry said.
“It might be a bit of a wait for a table.”
Avery and Kerry took a quick look around. The club was full.
“Busy night,” Avery commented.
“Quinten Parker always draws a crowd. I can get you a setup at the bar until a table opens.”
The friends took a quick glance at each other and nodded in unified agreement.
“Right this way.” The hostess led them over to the bar and took their names for the waiting list.
“Didn’t think about making reservations for a weeknight,” Kerry said as she hopped up on the bar stool. “The band is really good.”
“I think I have one of his early CDs,” Avery said. She placed her purse on her lap and looked around.
“You see him?” Kerry asked knowingly.
Avery adjusted her bottom on the stool. “No.” She linked her fingers together and worked at being unconcerned. But that didn’t stop her pulse from jackhammering in her veins.
“What can I get you, ladies?” The bartender wiped the spaces in front of them with a damp cloth.
“Apple martini,” Avery said.
“Make that two,” Kerry added.
“Coming right up.” He placed a bowl of mixed nuts and one of taco chips with dip in front of them.
* * *
Rafe walked out front from the greenroom along with Quinten to check the crowd.
“You definitely can bring them in,” Rafe said, congratulating Quinten with a pat on the back.
“Blues Alley is my second home when I leave New York.”
“Haven’t been to New York for a minute,” Rafe said. He leaned against the frame of the archway. “Need to get this next album finished.”
“How much more to go?”
“At least three more tracks to lay down.”
“Your last one was off the chain, man.” They bumped fists. “Anytime you want to come up to Harlem I have some of the best engineers in the business. Pure genius. And the next project we need to do together.”
Rafe slowly nodded in agreement. “Yeah. For sure.” He turned his head and when a waitress moved he spotted Avery at the bar. “Be right back.” He started off before Quinten could respond.
Rafe glided between tables and around bodies blocking his pathway to the bar. He eased behind her.
“Glad you could make it,” he whispered against her neck.
Avery felt her entire body tingle. She angled toward him as he came up beside her.
“Rafe,” she managed to say and was caught up for a moment in the light of his eyes.
Kerry turned.
Avery cleared her throat. “Rafe Lawson, this is my friend Kerry Holt. Kerry, Rafe Lawson.”
“Pleasure.” He gave Kerry a gallant nod and a smile. “I have a table,” he said to them both, but his focus was on Avery. “You’re more than welcome, unless you prefer the bar.”
“Absolutely not,” Kerry answered for them both. She stuck a twenty under the bowl of nuts to cover both their drinks, then slid down off her bar stool.
Avery wanted to elbow Kerry but restrained herself. “Thanks. They didn’t say how long the wait for a table would be.”
“My pleasure.” He placed his hand on her lower back as she got off the stool.
“Right this way.”
Avery used all of her concentration to put one foot in front of the other to avoid succumbing to the heat of his large hand right above the rise of her rear.
“It’s the one in the center, up front,” he said close to her ear and she knew it was that thing he did to get close to her and it worked—again.
They stopped at the table and Rafe helped them both into their seats. “Can I get you ladies anything?”
“We’re good for now,” Avery said, and held up her half-finished drink.
Rafe nodded. “Totally understand. But when you get hungry they have a great menu and it’s on the house.”
“Oh, you don’t have to−”
Kerry cut her off. “Thank you. That’s very generous.”
Rafe took a step back. “Enjoy your evening, ladies. See you later?” he stated to Avery in a mouthed whisper.
Avery didn’t respond as she watched him stroll away.
“Oh. My. God,” Kerry whispered and fanned herself with the menu. She leaned forward and stared Avery in the eyes. “Listen here, girl, if you don’t know what you want to do with all that—I’ll handle it for you.”
“He...is...something,” she admitted.
“That’s putting it mildly and he is so charming.”
They laughed and for a moment Avery allowed herself to imagine “what if.”
Kerry raised her glass and shifted Avery’s focus.
“What are we toasting?” Avery asked.
“To possibility.” She grinned.
Avery twisted her lips. “To possibility.”
“Now let’s order our on-the-house dinner, ’cause I’m starved.”
* * *
“Did you research him like I told you?” Kerry asked while she sliced through her medium-well steak.
“No. Didn’t have time.”
Kerry stopped cutting and reached for her purse on the empty chair. She rifled through and pulled out an inch-thick stack of papers clipped together. “That’s what I figured.” Kerry placed the papers next to Avery’s plate. “So I did it for you.”
Avery gave her the side-eye.
“I know. Don’t thank me now.” Kerry proceeded to dig into her steak.
“Kerry,” she said in a hot whisper. “I don’t believe you did this.”
Kerry wagged her fork at Avery. “Let me just say this...” She leaned closer. “That man is a serious catch. Money, looks, connections, well-traveled, educated, talented and other than some minor brushes with the law over a motorcycle accident a couple of years back, he is damn near too good to be true.”
“Then why isn’t he with someone or married if he’s all that?” Avery countered, still unwilling to take the bait. “Must be something wrong.”
“According to the articles he’s been linked to dozens of women, from socialites to supermodels, and none of them have a bad word to say about him.” She shrugged. “Maybe he’s looking for you.” She giggled and winked.
“Sure. Right.” But she couldn’t help wonder why he was single and what if Kerry was right? Now she was being silly. Clearly Rafe Lawson had mastered the art of being a playboy. It was as simple as that.
* * *
“Good evening, ladies and gentlemen. Welcome to Blues Alley. We have a very special lineup tonight. He may live in New York but he can call DC home anytime—Quinten Parker and the Quartet.”
The room erupted into applause. “That’s not all. Bringing his own brand of Louisiana jazz is Mr. Saxophone