“All the time,” London said. “My mom loves to tell her that he’s her problem now.” She shook her head. “It’s a strange relationship, but surprisingly healthy.” She stood and threaded her arms through the sleeves of her white coat. “Talk to you guys later,” she said before clicking out of the call.

“I need to go too,” Samiah said. “But my offer still stands. If you need to borrow rent money, all it takes is a phone call. No sleeping in the car.”

“Thanks,” Taylor said, even though she knew she wouldn’t take her up on it.

After saying goodbye to Samiah, Taylor pulled up the browser on her phone. She did another web search for Jamar Dixon, clicking until she reached web hits that she had yet to read. She knew as much about football as she knew about botany or hieroglyphics, but based on the numerous sports blogs she read, Jamar had been one of the most promising running backs to make it to the NFL in a generation.

He’d also made it onto a number of Hottest Players in the NFL lists and Pinterest boards. She couldn’t refute that. The man was hot.

“Yeah, you’re fine and all,” Taylor said. “I just hope you’re legit.”

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER FIVE

Taylor hadn’t realized just how tense she was until her fingers relaxed their grip on the steering wheel. Seeing Jamar Dixon’s fancy SUV parked in one of the slots facing the café eased a smidgen of the worry that had taken hold since Melonie dropped that atomic bomb on her yesterday afternoon. Taylor wanted to play it cool with Jamar and not come across as too eager. But with the way she was shedding clients, she feared she would fall at the man’s feet and beg him to hire her the moment she saw him.

Please, don’t do that. You’re a professional.

A professional in desperate need of some business, but still a professional.

She waited for a Subaru Outback to back out of a spot near the entrance before guiding Nessie into the space. As she approached the entrance to the café, the door opened and Jamar walked out. Her brain stuttered at the sight of him.

She had a type. She liked her men lean but toned. Height didn’t matter, but she gravitated toward those who were a bit taller than her five-foot-four frame. Dreadlocks were a plus. Add in a nose ring and a couple of tattoos and her panties started to melt away.

Basically Lenny Kravitz. Just give her Lenny Kravitz.

Jamar Dixon was no Lenny, but maybe she should add sculpted shoulders and a goatee to the list of qualities on her DTF list.

Stop it! You want him as a client, not someone you’re down to fuck!

She gave the horny little devil on her shoulder a stern warning as she got out of her car.