Captivated Love. Yasmin Sullivan Y.
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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.
“Do you like the band?” Darien asked, shouting over the music.
Safire nodded without losing the beat.
By the time the set was over, their desserts were gone.
“I hope you liked that,” Darien said. “It might be the only thing we have in common.”
Safire laughed. “I loved it. If only we could have danced.”
“I’m glad you enjoyed it,” Darien said.
There was sincerity in his expression and a rather boyish grin on his face at having pleased her. His deep voice crawled down Safire’s spine like a caterpillar.
“I did.”
“Well, at least there’s one thing this nondrinking, nonpartying, veggie-burger-eating—”
Safire started to laugh.
“I’m sorry to turn into a pumpkin before midnight, but I have to get home. Thank you for getting me out of the house for a bit—unexpectedly.”
“Anytime,” Safire said. “You just let me know. Because I have a life. I like to get out.”
“I see why,” Darien said as he got down from his stool. Once Safire was standing, he placed his hand on her back. “Let me