Page 14 of In Another Time

I stopped walking and turned to face him. “And yet, you keep asking,” I said, arching an eyebrow.

He chuckled, holding his hands up in mock surrender. “Can’t blame a brotha for trying.”

I didn’t bother responding, just offered him a curt nod before continuing down the hall. He was harmless, but he wasn’t what I wanted.

What I wanted was Omir.

I tried to push the thought away, but it was no use. His image was etched into my mind—the way he smiled, the way he touched me, the way he looked at me like I was the only woman in the world.

By the time I made it to my office, my pussy was throbbing intensely. This wasn’t me. I was focused, disciplined, the kind of woman who didn’t get hung up on men. He was the first. There I was, longing for a man I’d told myself I didn’t want. My body ached with a need I hadn’t allowed myself to acknowledge fully until now.

Before I could talk myself out of it, I grabbed my phone and dialed Sherelle. “Hey, girl,” she answered on the second ring. “I’m in the middle of training a client, but what’s up?”

“Sorry. I didn’t even check the time,” I said, walking to my desk and dropping into my chair. “I need a favor.”

“Oh, this should be good. Hey, hun. Take five, okay? Now, back to you. What kind of favor?”

“Are you free tonight? I was thinking we could go to Omir’s club.”

Sherelle let out a long, dramatic sigh. “Girl, you don’t need me as your wing woman. If you want to see Omir, just go see him.”

“It’s not about that.” I protested, though my voice lacked conviction.

“Uh-huh. So you just happen to want to spend your night at his jazz club, listening to live music andpossiblyrunning into him?” she teased.

“Sherelle.”

“Lennox,” she said, mimicking my exasperated tone. “You’re not fooling me. Just admit you wanna see him.”

I bit my lip, staring at the papers scattered across my desk. “Fine. Maybe I do. But I don’t want to make it obvious.”

“Girl, it’s already obvious. You’ve been thinking about him since you left his house, haven’t you?” I didn’t respond, which was all the answer she needed. “Look,” Sherelle continued, her tone softening. “You don’t need me there to hold your hand. If you want to see him, go see him. Life’s too short to play these games with yourself.”

I sighed. “You’re right.”

“I’m always right,” she said smugly. “Now go. And call me after.”

We hung up, and I leaned back in my chair, staring at the ceiling. Sherelle’s words echoed in my mind, and I realized she was right.

Enough overthinking.

I grabbed my purse and jacket, my heart racing as I made the abrupt decision to leave the office. I didn’t even bother making excuses to my assistant or checking my calendar. As I stepped outside into the midday sun, my body was buzzing with anticipation. I wasn’t just going to Omir’s club. I was going to Omir.

OMIR

The sharp scent of lemons from the polished bar lingered in the air as I walked through the club, clipboard in hand, making last-minute adjustments for the speed-dating night we had on deck. Jazz and romance—that was the vibe. I wanted the club to evolve, stay fresh. But no matter how polished the setup looked, my thoughts were off.

They kept drifting. . . to her.

It had been weeks since Lennox walked out of my life, and every damn day since, she lived rent-free in my mind. Her laugh, the way she used to roll her eyes before giving in, the scent of her skin when I kissed her shoulder in the morning. That woman? She didn’t just leave a mark—she branded me.

“Micah, make sure the lights shift to that low amber glow before the first round starts. We’re not killin’ nobody’s vibe with overhead fluorescents.”

Micah smirked and wiped the counter. “You got it. I’ll keep it smooth until the quartet starts.”

I gave him a nod, trying to lock back in. “And the food?”

“Trays are tight. Wine’s chillin’. Nicole’s running the pairings.”

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