Yasmin Sullivan - Captivated Love

“Why not?”

“I don’t know. I guess I wasn’t raised around alcohol. And I have a very hectic schedule, so I don’t actually get out much.” He shrugged.

“I shouldn’t have a virgin daiquiri myself. It must be four hundred calories even without the alcohol,” Safire complained. “But in for a penny, in for a pound—in this case an American pound.” She chuckled. “What do you want to eat?” she asked, turning to the menu. “We can order real food if you’re hungry. I’m fine with wings.”

“I’m— I actually don’t eat meat.”

Aw. Worrisome as it was—she’d never gone out with a vegetarian or vegan—Safire was glad to be sitting across from someone with convictions. This one wasn’t all play. That could be a good thing.

“Oh, they must have other stuff on the menu. If not, we can go somewhere else.”

“I’ll have some potato skins,” he said and closed the menu. “I’ll be fine.”

In the momentary silence that followed, Darien smiled at her, and his smile opened up his whole face, letting her peek at the boy she hadn’t known and the inside of the man he was now. She loved that smile.

“So how long have you worked for the Law Offices of Benson and Hines?” he asked.

“I’ve been with them almost two years now. Good pay. Interesting work.”

“Are you an attorney? You seem kind of young...”

“No, I’m a paralegal, and I’m twenty-three. I couldn’t have finished law school already unless I was a child genius.”

Safire laughed, and Darien joined her.

“What about you? Will you be joining the firm?”

Darien laughed at that. “No, no. I’m twenty-six, but I’m not a lawyer.”

Safire pursed her lips into a pout.

“What is it?” he asked. “Did I say the wrong thing?”

“No, I was just hoping for a brother or sister in the upper ranks. We need some color up in there, if you know what I mean.”

Darien chuckled, but then he nodded in understanding.

“I’m sorry that I don’t fit the bill. I hope you don’t mind having us as a client, though.”

His apology was so sincere that it touched Safire. He was a sweetie.

“Who’s us?” she asked.

“I work at the Heritage Community Arts, Education and Resource Center of Miami. Benson and Hines has agreed to start doing some pro bono work for our needy, and I’m helping to handle some of the arrangements.”

“Why did you need Janice?”

“That was a personal aside. I needed some advice about copyrighting my art. I’m an artist—primarily wood but also metal and clay.”

Their drinks and food arrived, and the two began nibbling.

“I’m also a full-time MFA student at Florida International University,” Darien said, “but I’ve worked at the Heritage Center forever. I do some administrative work and teach art.”

“Why do you do it?”

“I love it. I love the kids. I love the Heritage Center. I want it to do well.”

“I like your fervor.”

The passion in Darien’s voice drew Safire to him. She slipped off one of her shoes and found his shin with her toes, letting him know how attracted she was.

He paused over his potato skins and looked at her. “You move rather fast, don’t you?”

“Is that a bad thing? I go after what I want, and I like to have a good time.”

“Does it ever get serious for you?”

“What does that mean? Because I go after what I want, I can’t be serious?”

“You can be, but are you?”

“If it gets serious, that’s fine. If it doesn’t, it wasn’t meant to be. I’m serious right now about wanting you.”

Safire reached over and touched Darien’s face with her sticky fingers. Then she leaned over and kissed the sticky spot, licking the sauce from his face.

Darien let out a heavy breath.

“You do move fast, maybe too fast.”

“Doesn’t Darien like to come out and play?” Safire teased.

“In my wilder days—in a hot second. Now I take it a bit slower.”

Little warning bells had been going off in Safire’s head since they started their evening. She liked to play, and Darien seemed a little conservative for her. He didn’t drink. He didn’t get out much. He didn’t eat meat. Now he was into taking it slowly. For the fourth time that evening, Safire wanted to raise her eyebrows. This time she did, giving Darien a genuinely quizzical look. He chuckled.

“I guess I’ve mellowed.”

“But you’re not old. What made you a nondrinking, nonpartying, veggie-burger-eating stick-in-the-mud?”

“Hold up. I said that I don’t drink often. That’s not a bad thing. And let’s talk about meat.”

“No, let’s not,” Safire said. “Let’s get to the real issue—”

“Which is what?” Darien asked.

“A beautiful woman finds you attractive and wants to get to know you.”

“That’s not a problem. In fact, that’s great.”

“Then why the brakes?”

Darien leaned back and looked at her. “No one ever tells you no, do they? But then, you’re a beautiful woman. Why should they?”

His compliment made Safire smile, despite the tension between them.

“Actually,” she said, “you probably don’t hear no a lot either. You’re a hottie if ever I saw one.”

Darien looked down and grinned, but it was clear he was trying not to.

“Thank you, Safire.”

“I guess I don’t hear no a lot,” Safire said, “because I usually look for people I have something in common with.”

“I take it that’s not me.”

Something had softened between them, renewing Safire’s desire to know this man. “The verdict is still out on that. How about if we go dancing?”

Darien rolled his eyes, and both of them laughed.

“I guess you’re not a big dancer,” Safire said.

“I’ve danced a bit, but not recently. Tell me, what else do you like?”

“I like broad shoulders, like yours.” She eyed him tellingly, but he waved her on to the next item. “I like music. I like jazz clubs.”

Darien started nodding, and his eyes lit up. “I have an idea. There’s a café called Sylvester’s about fifteen minutes from here. They have desserts and wine, as well. Sometimes they have poetry readings and live music. I think that tonight they have a jazz band. Let’s go check it out.”

“Okay.”

“Can you follow me in your car?” Darien asked, getting up and taking Safire’s arm to steady her.

“Sure.”

“I won’t be able to stay long, but it should be good.”

Safire shook her head. “Is it getting past your bedtime already?” she said, and chuckled.

“You really do think I’m a stick-in-the-mud, don’t you?”

“I was just teasing.”

“I’m actually a huge night owl, but I still have work to do tonight.”

“Then I won’t keep you out late.”

They smiled at one another, arm hooked in arm, and Darien walked Safire to her car. Then he got his, met her and led them to Sylvester’s.

It was a Friday night, so there was a crowd. As they expected, there was a jazz band—a combo of four—filling the stage beyond the café tables. The place was small, and the band was using microphones, so it was much louder than it needed to be. They enjoyed the music, but they couldn’t hold a conversation over the sound.

Safire and Darien found a table at the counter along the wall, and Darien got them desserts and smoothies. Darien put his hand on the back of Safire’s raised chair. They sat close together and bounced their heads in unison as the band played standards like “A Night in Tunisia,” “’Round Midnight,” “Night and Day,” “Summertime,” “Blue Bossa,” “God Bless the Child” and “Take the ‘A’ Train.” Safire wished they could dance, but the café was packed, with tables almost touching.