Sweet Southern Nights

Leaning over her head, Levi took a deep breath, breathing in the subtle fragrance of the perfume clinging to Angela’s body. The scent was like its wearer—subtle and sexy. “You cooked, so it’s only fair that I help out.”

“What if you open the wine and allow it to breathe while I get the salad and put the asparagus on the grill,” she countered in a soft, but stern tone.

Levi resisted the urge to salute Angela. Her refusal to let him help told him more than he needed to know about her. She was stubborn and controlling.

“Yes, ma’am,” he said, reaching for the corkscrew opener resting on a folded napkin. “Are you rolling your eyes at me?” he asked when she rested her hands at her waist.

“I’m not old enough to be a ma’am.”

“How old are you?” he asked, removing the foil and inserting the corkscrew into the bottle of rosé.

“You should know better than to ask a woman her age.”

Levi lifted broad shoulders under his crisp white shirt. “It doesn’t matter. I can always ask Duncan.”

Angela rolled her eyes again. “Thirty-two,” she spat out, “and soon to be thirty-three.”

He winked. “That wasn’t so bad, now was it?”

“What else are you going to ask Duncan about me?”

The soft pop of the cork was the only sound in the room as Levi and Angela stared at each other. “If I wanted to I would’ve had Duncan tell me everything about you before we met. He asked me to do him a favor and I said I would. I’m willing to be your date tomorrow, and the only thing I’m going to ask is that you do the same for me at my family reunion, since my mother will undoubtedly have some woman there for me to meet. She thinks it’s time I settled down and give her some grandchildren.”

Angela compressed her lips. “As long as we understand each other I think we’ll get along quite well. Excuse me, but I’m going to get the salad and grill the asparagus.”

“Angela,” Levi said as she walked away. She stopped but didn’t turn around. “I’d like to sit down and enjoy the food you’ve prepared without talking about us.”

“So what do you want to talk about?”

“Your aunt, sports, books, movies or TV for a start.”

She half-turned and smiled at him over her shoulder. “Thank you, kind sir, for giving me a choice,” she drawled in her best Southern accent.

Throwing back his head, Levi laughed, the rich sound echoing in the room. “You’re quite welcome, ma’am.”

Angela couldn’t remember when she’d spent a more enjoyable evening with a man. Not only was Levi a great listener, but he was also a wonderful conversationalist. They’d discussed sports. He’d seemed surprised that she was so knowledgeable about the subject, but after she’d explained that she’d grown up with five brothers and a father who were sports nuts, he’d understood completely.

Between forkfuls of food, washed down with the chilled wine, dinner was a comfortable and leisurely affair.

Levi raised his water glass. “When you talk to your aunt again, please let her know her roast chicken recipe is exceptional.”

Angela inclined her head. “I’ll definitely let her know.”

“How often do you speak to her?”

After dabbing the corners of her mouth with her napkin, she placed it beside her plate. Resting her elbow on the table, Angela cupped her chin in the heel of her hand, and stared at Levi through lowered lids. “There are times when I hear from her a couple of times of month, and then it’s like she disappears. Then out of the blue she’ll call me and explain that she’d jetted off to some exotic destination. If it’s not an African safari, then it’s shopping in Hong Kong. The highlight of one of her trips was snorkeling in the Great Barrier Reef. She laughs whenever I say I want to be like her when I grow up.”

Levi stared at her. “Are you?”

Angela smiled. “I’m halfway there.”

“How are you halfway there?”

“I work for myself and make my own hours. Aunt Nikki was a set designer for film and stage, and she told me I would never be completely happy until I worked for myself. I was a teacher when my cousin Traci, who’d been through a contentious divorce, moved from Frankfort to Louisville and asked me to go into business with her.”

Levi’s expressive eyebrows lifted when he asked, “What about teaching?”

“I gave it up. Traci’s paternal grandmother worked as a chef in a Frankfort country club and was a collector. Nowadays you’d call them hoarders. Whenever she catered private dinner parties, she’d ask her clients for their old china, stemware and silver in lieu of payment. The collection was so large and it took Traci three months to polish the silver and wash the china and stemware by hand. Then she hired an appraiser and after he gave her a figure, she decided to open a gift shop called the Garden Gate. We do quite well selling estate pieces, but most of the business comes from wedding registries. We carry Waterford, Lenox, Baccarat, Limoges plus a wide selection of wedding party gifts. Some of the items are what I consider luxuries.” A mysterious smile softened her mouth. “I splurge and treat myself to two crystal pieces each year—one for Christmas and the other for my birthday.”

Levi’s gaze went from her mouth to the vase and candleholders. “They’re beautiful.”

“Thank you,” she said softly. “If you ever need a gift for a wedding or a baby shower let me know and I’ll give you the family discount.”

“I’m going to take you up on your offer because there’ve been a few newborns in the family this year.”

Angela traced the rim of her wineglass with a forefinger. The glow from the track lights and flickering candles flattered the planes of Levi’s face. His gentle manner, deep voice and effortless conversation made her feel as if she’d known him for weeks instead of hours. “Let me know when you’re free and I’ll give you a private showing.”

“I’m off on Sundays, Mondays and Wednesdays,” Levi quickly offered.

“The Garden Gate is closed on Sundays and Mondays.” Mondays were when she spent most of the day writing, and she rarely scheduled anything that day. Levi would be the exception. “When do you want to come in?”

“I’ll call and let you know.”

Angela was certain he’d heard her sigh of relief because she’d hoped to finish her manuscript by midweek. She normally would’ve indulged in a marathon writing session on Sunday and Monday. But her cousin Yvette’s wedding had forced her to change her plans.

“I’d prefer you come on Sunday, since Traci and I usually meet with consignment customers and prospective brides on Mondays.”

Leaning back in his chair, Levi studied the woman whose cooking skills were exceptional and who continued to amaze him. He found her guarded, much too guarded whenever she talked about herself.

“Where did you go to college?”

Angela picked up her wineglass and took a sip. “Spelman.”

“Why did you decide to go there?”

“My mother and grandmother were both Spelman alums. And you, Levi?”

“Howard, and then the University of Pennsylvania med school.”

Her brow furrowed. “If you were already at Howard why didn’t you go to med school there?”

“I gave it a lot of thought, but realized I wanted to be close to my family in Philadelphia.”

Angela sat up straight. “I thought you said you were from Miami.”

“My dad’s family is from Philadelphia. However, there are some Eatons who live in D.C., West Virginia, South Carolina and Texas now.”

“Is your father a doctor, too?”