Page 6 of Forever Mine

“Can I get you a drink?” Blue Eyes asked.

Nodding, I said, “I’d appreciate that.”

He walked away, but didn’t ask what I wanted. Since I didn’t know his name, I hit a snag. “Uh, hello.”

He turned, his lips lifting in a half-smile.

“You didn’t ask what I wanted.”

“That’s okay,” he said, “I have something in mind.”

His answer surprised me and I hoped he wouldn’t bring back anything laced with too much alcohol.The last time I ate wasjust after eleven o'clock, so Ineeded to put something in my stomach soon.

I’d moved on to another picture when he returned, carrying an icy, red concoction. More people had filtered into the room and the buzz of chatter competed with the soothing, piped Jazz coming from hidden speakers.

“Thanks. What is it?” I asked, sounding skeptical as I accepted the glass and napkin.

“No need to worry. It’s a strawberry coconut water slushy and since I don’t know if you like rum, I asked the bartender to hold it for the next drink.”

“Good thinking,” I said, relieved that he’d erred on the side of caution.

Accepting a drink from a near stranger wasn’t something I’d ever done before, but Joey and Pete would be sure to notice if I seemed happier than normal. Also, this man seemed decent enough.

A swish of the straw and a sip of the smooth drink had me thanking him. “This is good.”

He nodded, thendrankfrom his glass. “Thought you’d like it.”

“By the way, what’s your name?” I said, as the noise level rose around us.

“I thought you’d never ask.” His smile widened. “What’s yours? I only know you as Ms. Young.”

Win an answering grin, I said, “I asked you first.”

“Come on, Empress. Be nice.”

I nearly choked on my drink, laughing. “That’s corny. Where did you come up with that?”

His eyesdancedover the rim of his glass before he said, “I went to school with some of your people.”

When I frowned, he said, “Jamaicans, I mean. One of them was a Rasta man, so I picked up some slang.”

Holding up one finger, I said, “Words to the wise, not every woman wants to be called that, okay?”

“Noted.” He slipped one hand into his pocket. “What do I call you?”

“Shevaughn.”

He repeated it, as though absorbing and savoring the sound of it. I was surprised he got it right on the first attempt.

“I like it,” he said, “Sounds exotic next to plain, old Scott.”

Yet,he was anything but ordinary. Tall and slender, he towered over me—and I had some height on me, even without my three-inch heels. He’d tied his hair in a ponytail. I noticed the streaks ran from deep brown to blonde. And those eyes, they fascinated me like crazy.

I’d never been attracted to someone so far outside my race, but something about this man mesmerized me.

I wanted to touch his hair to find out if it was as soft as it looked, and I was dying to ask why, when he sounded so sensible, he carried himself like a hobo or a beatnik.

When he spoke, someone did a mic check, and I missed Scott’s words.

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