Slow Dancing in a Black Storm

By Tana Jenkins

Mila has spent weeks preparing for her first eminent domain hearing. The one thing she doesn’t anticipate is the public opposition. She gets her first taste in court, when the judge repeatedly silences her, leaving her in a state of humiliation as she storms out of the courtroom — right into the incredibly sexy Sergio Gomez.

Sergio is one of the many people on the island of St. Croix opposed to the case that could make or break Mila's career… and also, as Mila finds out, a sensitive soul who keeps his family's restaurant afloat with the fish he catches with his rooster friend, takes care of the house owned by his aunt where Mila is staying, plays music and dances with a grace and passion Mila has never known, and rescues her during a terrifying storm. Oh, turns out he also has a reputation as a playboy.

Will these uneasy neighbors overcome their differences to become more than friends and adversaries? Or will jealousy, betrayal, and conflicts of interest tear them apart?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Bryant Street Shorts
• Release date: Nov 4, 2021
• ISBN: 9781094427836

Tana Jenkins

Author and attorney Tana Jenkins has always been passionate about the magic of love. Her storytelling brings this magic to life, using richly imagined plots featuring characters who are often as lovable as they are broken. And as a multi-racial/African American writer, Tana is particularly interested in writing diverse characters in interracial romances — a nod to the notion that love knows no boundaries.

Book preview

One

Mila St. James licked her lips, prepared to spit fire like Eminem in the movie Eight Mile, minus the soundtrack or shell toes.

All rise for the Honorable Garver Green, the bailiff — tall, lean, and with a head of neatly braided cornrows — called out to the packed courtroom as a stout, nut-brown man in black robes exited his chambers. The chattering voices of what sounded like half the island immediately fell silent. Everyone rose to their feet, reminiscent of an ocean wave cresting, with Mila being the quickest peak.

She took a sharp inhale of the air, smelling faintly of mildew, as the judge, eyeing no one and everyone at once, took his seat on the high wooden bench. Good mawning, he greeted them all in his rich Caribbean accent.

Having smoothed her pencil skirt and readied the pointed toes of her stilettos, Mila stepped toward the podium at the judge’s first words.

I’ve read the briefs of both parties. I’ll hear from the defendant, the judge said.

Counsel, I believe that would be me. Mila’s adversary shouldered in front of her, the corners of his eyes crinkling into a smirk.

Confused, Mila turned to the judge. This wasn’t common practice. Normally, the initiating party was the first to address the court, which in this case would be her. Your Honor—

Did you not hear my bailiff when he announced whose courtroom this is? The judge scowled. My courtroom, my rules. I will hear from Attorney Reed.

Very well, Your Honor. She should have known the moldy odor was a sign. This hearing, her first one on the island’s highest profile case, was off to a rotten start. Mila took her seat, bowing her head as she did. Oh, how she wished she’d worn her long curls down in order to conceal the humiliating blush, visible courtesy of her mixed heritage, surely coloring her bronze skin.

But hadn’t Eminem gone down in the first round, too?

Readying for round two, Mila straightened her spine and studied the back of opposing counsel. An older man with shoulders stooped deferentially before the judge, he simultaneously managed to give off both the vibe of the terrified hen and the stalking fox. Mila wouldn’t have trusted him if he told her hell was hot, but the judge looked entranced.

And so… Opposing counsel, who’d been droning on for the last ten minutes, opened his hands wide and then clapped them together with dramatic flourish. There is no legal basis for the government to steal this land from the good people of the Virgin Islands in order to, of all things, turn more of our paradise into a garbage heap.

His tonal emphasis on the words garbage heap contained more stink than the words themselves. He underscored it by slamming his small fists on the metal podium, sending a loud, tinny thud reverberating throughout the room.

Mila twitched. It took everything in her power not to jump up like a jack-in-the-box and object. But they weren’t before the jury, and counsel was free to hyperbolize. She’d have her chance to respond, she reminded herself.

Thank you, Attorney Reed. I believe I’ve heard all that I need to hear from the parties. I’ll be issuing a written opinion in the coming weeks.

Sure she’d misheard, Mila stood, ready to lay out the arguments she’d painstakingly researched and prepared for today. Your Honor, counsel for the government would like to be heard.

The judge’s dark, bushy eyebrows pinched, and his eyes moved from Mila to his bailiff. The two men seemed to reach an unspoken understanding, and the bailiff straightened his already rod-like back in a way that made the tall man appear four inches higher. The judge raised his gavel. Perhaps it’s the accent — I hear ours are different — so I will repeat myself for the benefit of Attorney St. James.

Mila didn’t catch most of what the judge said because laughter erupting from each one of the seats behind her filled her ears. But she was pretty damn sure it wasn’t anything along the lines of Your brief was so amazing, you can kick back and relax.

No, she’d been dissed and dismissed. Maybe she should have listened to the album instead of watching the movie.

If only music was her thing.

Seconds after his lips stopped moving, the judge rose and exited the courtroom, leaving Mila to silently fume. The whole reason she went into law was because of the predictability, the decorum, the civilized and methodical way life’s most challenging problems were dismantled with logic and reason. In all her years of practice, she’d never — well that wasn’t true. She’d encountered an assortment of temperaments from the bench but, usually, no matter how insufferable, they all had the decency to let her speak before they shot her arguments down.

Grabbing her notes from the table, Mila let out a long, angry sigh. She’d stayed up until midnight perfecting them; no way could she let all of that hard work go to waste. She would march back to the office and type up a supplemental brief for today’s hearing.

A cell phone thrust two inches from her bottom lip jolted Mila out of her comeback strategy. Mila’s eyes shot from the bright red polish on the nails holding the phone to the plastic lanyard around a busty woman’s neck. PRESS was printed in large block letters. Even without the badge, the hungry glint in the woman’s eyes screamed reporter.

"The judge didn’t give you a chance to speak. Would you care to say anything to the readers of the Island Times?" the reporter purred like a lion getting ready to pounce.

No comment, Mila said, scooping up her briefcase and heading through the crowd of steely eyed people between her and the door. In truth, Mila’s jaw hurt from struggling to keep her mouth shut. Fortunately, the room was so full, no one could hear that she was actually stomping in her stilettos.

Mila would have loved to recite all of her cleverly crafted arguments to the reporter, but she was under strict orders not to talk to the press. Office protocol didn’t allow for media comments from anyone other than the higher ups. In her experience, most legal offices were run in similar fashion, so Mila always wondered why journalists even bothered asking lower-ranking attorneys. It wasn’t like her office would have to hire Sherlock Holmes to know who said something if there was a leak about this hearing.

Thank God, she was the only one from the office who’d come today. If there was a silver lining, it was the fact that no coworkers were there to witness her disgrace.

It’s not like you could have run out of words in the courtroom, the reporter needled. I’m sure you could spare us one or two.

No comment, Mila repeated.

Really? The woman dropped her thin veneer of politeness and sucked her teeth. The people have a right to hear from their government.

This reporter was a persistent one. Mila got the fact that sis was just doing her job, and Mila was all for freedom of the press, but respect was a two-way street.

Unless you and the Department of Justice think you’re above answering to the people. This latest land grab would definitely seem to suggest so, the reporter said.

Alright, she’d had enough. It was time for this woman to move on. Mila pushed open the courtroom doors, turning back to the woman as she did. Like I said—

UMPH!

If it wasn’t warm, flesh-covered, and moving, Mila would have sworn she’d run straight into a wall.

Excuse me, the most gorgeous man she’d ever seen said to her as she looked up at him. With her hands resting on his massive chest, she could feel his heart thudding lightly beneath the fingertips of her right hand. Their chins only inches away from each other, she inhaled the tangy scent of his cologne, a heady combination of citrus, sandalwood, and ginger. It smelled sexy and fresh, just like the tall, golden-brown Latino wearing it.

"Excuse me," she said. For two glorious seconds, the world stopped as he held her gaze with his moss-colored eyes, bringing to mind the cool forest floor behind her grandmother’s house in Michigan where she and her sisters used to run as girls. Mila watched the strange man’s beautiful green eyes take her in hungrily then widen with a question as they landed on the briefcase at her side.

Attorney St. James? the insistent reporter called.

Those two words made the man’s eyes darken and his thick lashes blink. So you’re the statesider come down to do the government’s bidding and thieve the land from the people?

His deep voice, rich with notes as varied as his forefather’s lands — Africa, Spain, Boriken — had such a melodic cadence that it took her a second to register the insult in his comment.

Thief?

Mila’s jaw dropped. Normally, she had a comeback for everything, but this man had knocked her for a loop, quite literally.

Suddenly, she heard a camera click. Mila groaned.

She didn’t even need to look, having been down this road enough times to know. The journalist had snapped a photo. And only then did Mila realize that the handsome stranger’s large hands were still encircling her waist. She dropped her own hands from his chest.

They both stepped back.

Exactly what she needed, a visual record of her humiliation to top things off.

Section Break

Mila rubbed her temples and struggled to keep the corners of her mouth from dipping into a frown. As soon as she’d stepped into the office, the receptionist had told her that her boss, the office’s second in command, wanted to see her immediately.

But it wasn’t until the other woman had whispered good luck that Mila’s palms started to sweat.

Had Judge Green called to complain? It wouldn’t be the first time. Mila, the law-and-order woman that she was, had a habit of causing a stir in courtrooms but, usually, she at least got an opportunity to speak before she pissed people off.

She rapped her knuckles on the door frame, though her boss’s door was open. Afternoon, Attorney Cross. You wanted to see me, sir? Even after five months, the formality of the Caribbean required some effort.

Afternoon, Attorney St. James. What can you tell me about this? Cross pulled his chair back from his desk and turned his computer to face her.

Mila gasped. Lord, news traveled fast on this island. Did that reporter have her article written before the hearing even started? How had she published the story that quickly?

Mila took a step closer to the screen and groaned. It was even worse than she’d thought. Her image, mouth agape, with a kicked-dog expression on her face, stared back at her from the screen. Actually, it wasn’t even staring at her. Her image was staring at the show-stoppingly gorgeous man who’d hissed at her before disappearing into the

Reviews for Slow Dancing in a Black Storm

[SamnaGhani · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

Great read! Engaging throughout with interesting characters and good storyline.

[susan stasiak · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

Love, love, love this sweet sister series. The island atmosphere in Slow Dancing is so evocative of the Caribbean, makes this armchair traveler want to visit St. Croix. Cannot wait for Tana Jenkins’ next book.

[Gertie · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

This is hot! Writing and plot are even better than this author’s first work, which was also quite good! I sped through this in one sitting. She’s an author to watch!