Captivated Love. Yasmin Sullivan Y.
jazz?” Darien asked as they neared her car.
It was a question that took Safire off guard and made her think back. “My father,” she said. “He would play jazz albums almost every weekend.”
Safire recalled waking up on weekends to the sound of her father’s jazz records. The sun would be up already, but she would snuggle under the covers listening to the music that filled the house. She knew that her father was in the living room in his easy chair nodding his head in time to the rhythm and that her mother was in the kitchen humming along as she made breakfast. Safire could smell the bacon or sausage as it wafted through the house, and she knew she had to get up, but not right away, not while everything felt so peaceful and the world seemed so bright.
Without warning, tears began to well up in Safire’s eyes. Darien had evidently noticed. He stepped toward her and took her face in his palm. He seemed to be waiting for her to say more. Safire didn’t know what to say. She wanted those days back so much—those peaceful mornings when everyone was there and everyone was all right. She shook her head to clear it. Then, as if by way of explanation for her sudden fit of sniveling, she began recounting facts of her life that she generally kept hidden.
“He played them almost every weekend until my mother died. I was seventeen, still in high school. Then he stopped playing them. He died two years later.”
Darien’s other hand came up to Safire’s face, and he used his thumbs to wipe away the tears that had fallen.
The pressure of Darien’s fingers brought Safire back to the moment. His fingers were gentle, and his caress was filled with caring and understanding. She looked into his face and saw his concern for her, and a sweet ache filled her heart. Then she imagined what she must look like, standing there blubbering.
“You’ll have to excuse me. I don’t know what has me talking about all of this or—”
“It’s okay,” Darien said, and his deep timbre sent a shiver up Safire’s spine. “I’m so sorry to hear about your parents. You’ve been on your own for a while.”
“Not entirely,” she said. “I have siblings and friends. But I had to grow up and become independent quickly. I do all right.”
“It explains why you’re so mature at such a young age. Maybe it explains even more.”
He didn’t say what, and Safire wasn’t sure if she should ask. She was still wondering what had gotten into her—why these feelings had risen to the top, why now when they never did. She shook it off, regained her composure and looked at Darien.
“Well, Mr. Darien James—nondrinking, non-going-out, veggie-eating, take-it-slow hottie. I guess I better let you go.”
One of his hands still cupped her face, and he leaned his head near hers.
“Safire, this has been the best part of the whole evening to me—right here, finding out something real about you. You are beautiful. Don’t let that change. Don’t squander it away. Don’t play it away. It’s...amazing.”
Safire didn’t realize she was holding her breath until she opened her mouth to say something. But she didn’t know what to say. The intense look on this man’s face—so near to hers—took her breath away. His concern over her feelings moved something inside her, and his earnest gaze froze her to the spot. When she heard his deep voice, tingles went through her.
She nodded once and smiled weakly, not knowing what to say. They seemed so different that she didn’t really expect to see him again, not for another date. Things had gotten a bit tense between them at the sports bar. In the end, he was just a little too conservative for her taste.
She went to her car, and he turned toward his. Safire had put her key in the lock and opened the door before she felt his hand on her back. She turned around to find him immediately in front of her, taking her in his arms. When Darien kissed her, those soft, kissable lips felt like warm, melted chocolate. Her lips parted at their gentle, platonic touch.
But their kiss didn’t remain chaste. Darien’s tongue moved in between Safire’s parted lips, and her arms moved to his neck, pulling her closer to his body. His hands slipped farther around her back, feeding a fire that was growing inside her loins.
He stopped as suddenly as he started and stepped back from her.
“Good night, Safire. And thank you again.”
With the feelings that had built up inside her, Safire couldn’t resist. She smiled her Safire smile and offered, “Are you sure you don’t want to come home with me and play?” She knew as she said it that she had broken their reverie.
Darien tipped his head down and leaned in so that his mouth almost touched her ear. “Slow down.”
His words in her ear sent a quiver through her frame, but they also shattered the last bit of their mutual trance. She swatted him playfully with her purse.
“You may not be a stick-in-the-mud, but you’re certainly too orthodox for me.”
“I take it that the jury is now in.”
Safire smiled and got into her car. She pulled up beside Darien as he got to his car, waved once as he closed the door and sped off into the night.
Darien James was more on the casual side. He owned a few suits, but more often than not, he wore jeans with some kind of printed shirt or T-shirt, and to dress that up, he wore a nice shirt or a dashiki or a vest—maybe a jacket, if it was necessary. This was the second time in as many weeks that he’d had to step up his game, and he was starting to like it. He could see how to move back and forth between business and casual without losing sight of what drove him.
The last time had been just over a week ago, when he’d gone to the Law Offices of Benson and Hines. That was also the day he’d met Safire Lewis and gone out with her. She had a list for him—nondrinking, nonpartying, veggie-burger-eating stick-in-the-mud, or something to that effect. He had a list for her as well, and it included the word siren. He hadn’t seen her since that night, and they hadn’t exchanged personal information, so he didn’t think he’d see her again. They seemed to be on different paths or in different places in their lives. She was on the fast track, and he’d gotten off the fast track some time ago—a move for the better, actually.
Now he sat in a conference room at the Nova Investment Firm, where he was representing the Heritage Community Arts, Education and Resource Center of Miami and waiting for the arrival of two more potential corporate backers for some of their programs. Nova had put this together pro bono to help the Heritage Center garner support from the local business community. His role was to describe the programs—the ones being offered already and the ones being added to better serve the community. He had worked at the Heritage Center for so long that he was confident in his ability to do this with minimal preparation. Nonetheless, he’d put together a very professional-looking packet of information.
The backing would also help with their Legal Assistance Program, but he didn’t expect Mr. Benson to show up, and he didn’t think that anyone from Benson and Hines would be there. He was surprised to see Safire Lewis enter the waiting area and look toward the conference room. It turned out that she was representing the Law Offices of Benson and Hines.
He could see her through the windows surrounding the conference room. Her crescent eyes sparkled with some inner mirth, and her high cheekbones were shaped into plump circles that puckered with her smile. Her lips were thick and full, making Darien remember how soft they were when he kissed her. She had a small, impish nose and a wide forehead. Though her face looked young, innuendo was written subtly over her features—in the way one side of her lips turned up in a smile, and the way she looked at him as if on the sly, as she did now through the window.
Her long hair was piled up on her head, placing an emphasis on her face that made her look young. Well, it made her look twenty-three. But she also flashed that cryptic Safire smile, the one that seemed sweet