Could it Be?

By Niobia Bryant

Celebrity fashion stylist, and NY it girl, Ameena Jones makes it her business to keep her thumb on the pulse of what is new, fresh and trendy in the hometown she loves. When one of her best gal pals invites her to a night of speed dating, Ameena is willing to give it try if for nothing else then fun kicks. She never imagined she would find love. Sparks instantly fly when she meets successful sports and entertainment attorney Marcus Daniel. Although his quiet and reserved traditional style is so different from her own vibrant, modern, and hip living they are instantly drawn to one another. Now that they have found each other life will never be the same...

• Language: English
• Publisher: Infinite Ink Presents...
• Release date: Jul 1, 2015
• ISBN: 9781513027692

Niobia Bryant

Niobia Bryant is the award-winning and national bestselling author of more than fifty works of romance and commercial mainstream fiction. Twice she has won the RT Reviewer’s Choice Best Book Award for African American/Multicultural Romance. Her books have appeared in Ebony, Essence, The New York Post, The Star-Ledger, The Dallas Morning News and many other national publications. 

Book preview

A Note from the Author

This book was originally written back in 2006 and I have chosen not to update it and present it just as it was back in the day. Please keep that in mind as you read and enjoy the classic love story of Meena and Marcus.

1

Rise and shine, girl.

One cat-shaped eye of onyx popped open. Then the other.

Ameena Jones’s eyes focused as she lay sprawled in the middle of her king-sized bed. One by one she looked up into the faces of her girls, her best friends, her sistahs. First Eva. Then Demi. And lastly, Winifred—who refused to be called Winnie.

I have got to change my locks, Meena drawled, her voice heavy with interrupted sleep as she pulled a satin emerald pillow over her face.

Yeah, right, Demi countered, reaching down to remove the pillow with one hand and balance the crystal flute she was holding with the other.

Meena groaned, kicking the bed in pure childlike frustration. I just got in at three this morning from a video shoot and my behind is—

We got mimosas, Eva said smoothly in that raspy voice that drove all the brothas from Wall Street to the street thugs wild.

Meena sat up in bed. She loved a good mimosa. If you three were really on point you’d have—

Breakfast burritos from the Burrito Bar, the three ladies finished in unison.

Demi passed Meena the flute. This will taste so much better if you handle that morning breath.

Meena frowned. Is it that bad? she asked, breathing into the hand she cupped over her rosebud-shaped mouth.

The three ladies held a hand over their noses and nodded with mock solemn expressions.

Meena flung a fuchsia silk neck roll accent pillow at them as they left the spacious master suite of her loft in the trendy Tribeca section of Manhattan. They left behind the scent of their various perfumes and the echo of their laughter.

She climbed off the platform bed, her petite frame dressed in nothing but white low-cut boy shorts and a shrunken wife-beater tee that she refused to let go.

Meena loved the city. The energy. The fast, electric pace. The endless nights. The constant movement.

She was all about New York, and New York was all about her.

Meena studied her reflection in the large oval mirror over her pedestal sink as she brushed her teeth. She used her free hand to pull off her silk scarf and rake her fingers through her stylish and spiky pixie haircut of deeply shiny ebony. It was so Fantasia and she loved it!

I need a trim, she thought, making a mental note to make an appointment at Luxe Studios.  

As a fashion stylist for some of the biggest names in entertainment, Meena knew that appearances were everything. She was proud that she was able to shape the careers of stars—both new and seasoned—because she had a flare for knowing what looked good on whom. A degree from the Fashion Institute of New York and a solid five years in the industry didn’t hurt her natural abilities either.

Hold up. Wait a minute, she said suddenly, quickly bending over the sink to rinse her mouth.

Mimosa, breakfast burritos, and all of her friends here at once could only mean one thing: trouble that was spelled M-A-N.

Meena opened the frosted glass door of her ultra-modern spa bathroom, eventually striding out of her bedroom.

I think I heard her playing with Thor in the bathroom, she heard Winifred whisper.

Thor was the sizable vibrator the girls had given her as a gag gift one Christmas.

That was my motorized toothbrush, thank you very much, Meena said, walking up to where they sat around her steel-topped dining room table that could easily seat twelve.

Eva and Winifred shared a knowing—and totally unbelieving—look.

"Anyway," Meena stressed.

Eva used tongs to place an assortment of fresh fruit and an oversized breakfast burrito onto a paper plate to hand to Meena.

Meena frowned. Why the paper plates? she asked.

You know we’re all scared of your kitchen, Demi answered, using a plastic fork to push around the scrambled eggs and sausage falling from the inside of her own burrito.

Last time I tried to use your corkscrew I damn near lost an eye, Eva said with a deadpan expression that was too phony to be believed.

The ladies all shared a laugh at that memory.

True, her kitchen—like the rest of her house—was a picture in the marriage of modern day technology and a sophisticated and comfortable décor. Just about everything was controlled by a remote or was activated by sensors. She took modern day convenience to a whole other level.

Meena took a healthy bite of her burrito and a deep swig of her mimosa before she asked, Okay, who has the man drama?

When Eva and Winifred’s shifted to Demi, Meena’s feline eyes fell on her as well.

Damien thinks they need a break, Eva offered into the silence.

Meena immediately felt for her friend. Dem—

I’m not sweating it, Demi said, cutting her off.

Meena thought of the pain she dealt with after her own breakup with Roderick last year. Two years of what she thought was a good relationship down the toilet. She cried like a baby for weeks after—even though he hadn’t been worth one drop. With a pang she thought