Kitabı oku: «Captivated Love»

For my mother, father, brother and grandmother, who have given me the richness of the human heart; for Jennie and Tanya, who have been my sister-friends; for Madeline, Freddie and William, who have shaped my vision of love; for Vionette and Lois, who have inspired the romantic in me; and for Jimmie, who was somebody to dream with.

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Introduction

About the Author

Title Page

Dear Reader

Dedication

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Copyright

Chapter 1

Safire Lewis shifted in her swivel chair, turning from the computer to the open books on the long table in the law library. She loved her work, but a paralegal wasn’t what she had set out to become. It was supposed to be a learning interlude on the way to law school. Her parents were gone by then, so she knew she would have to make it independently, and this seemed a way to do that. Now she was ready to make a change, and she already had plans set in motion.

She would have to fight to do it on her own, but it had been that way for a long time. After she lost her parents, she became determined to make it on her own terms—fiercely determined. She was used to fighting, and she was used to going after what she wanted. It was how she had come this far and how she would go on to get what she really wanted—once she finally decided what that was.

Safire tagged a page in one of the books, picked up the phone and dialed her sister’s cell phone number.

“Hey, sis. Are we still on for this Saturday?” Her sister rattled off a list of stops they would be making to look for her wedding dress. “I’ll be there,” Safire said. “And I’ll be there to watch Philly tomorrow night....Give your hunky fiancé all my love....Okay, Angelina. See you tomorrow.”

Safire hung up the phone, stretched and began rubbing the back of her neck with both hands. She wanted a vacation. She’d missed hers earlier that year when one of her bosses went into labor. She’d had to cancel her plans for a singles cruise. She didn’t mind because her sister got to go, and her sister needed it more than she did. But she had wanted that time to do some thinking and to relieve some of her tension, and what better way to relieve tension than to find a sexy single? Yes, she was used to going after what she wanted. Safire shook her head to get rid of her salacious thoughts and turned back to her work.

When she heard the door open, she had her nose in one of the law books on the table and thought it was one of the student interns they had taken on over the summer. The interns were supposed to lighten the load, but until they learned what they were doing, they were more a nuisance than a help.

When she looked up, however, she found not one of the interns but a well-dressed gentleman looking tentatively her way. And he was gorgeous. Safire couldn’t help but smile.

He had skin just darker than milk chocolate—sweet enough to lick until it melted in your mouth—and his large brown eyes were astute and attentive. His lips were kissably thick, set in an angular jaw that led to high, chiseled cheekbones. He wore his hair in long braids that were pulled back into a bundle and anchored at the nape of his neck.

Safire shifted her chair so that she could see beyond the table and continued her open perusal.

He was wearing an athletic-cut navy suit that flared at his broad shoulders and tapered just a bit at his waist. She could sense the muscles of his arms beneath the sleeves, and his contoured thighs struggled for release from the pant legs. Her eyes lingered over his center on the way back up. It protruded just enough to hint at the dense manhood that lay beneath. Safire almost licked her lips.

The suit was set off with a white shirt and a cobalt tie, and he carried a black leather satchel. He looked like a young attorney, which pleased Safire greatly. The firm needed some color higher up.

“Excuse me, I—” he said, his voice a rich bass that sent tingles through Safire’s body.

Safire cut him off. “You’ve got to be looking for me,” she said, getting up from her chair and shrugging off her blazer.

Safire wore a purple miniskirt that matched her blazer, as well as a lavender chiffon camisole and her black two-and-a-half-inch pumps. This was her usual work attire, and she liked it because it showed off her legs and could transition into the evening if she went out.

“Pardon?” he said.

“You’ve got to be looking for me,” she repeated, positioning her rear on the tabletop and crossing her legs in front of her. “I’ve been looking for you, too.”

Safire was always bold, partly in fun, partly in all seriousness. She could tell that her handsome stranger wasn’t used to this at all, and his hesitation only enticed Safire all the more—that and something sweet in his eyes.

“Uh, are you Janice Wilson? I just left Mr. Benson, and he said that I could stop in to introduce myself to you. You deal with copyrighting?”

“Aw,” Safire said and then gave a little pout. “You’re looking for Janice.”

“I’m afraid I am.”

“Well, you’re too gorgeous to give away. What about after that?”

“After that?” He seemed a bit puzzled.

“Yes, are you done for the day after you speak with Janice?” Safire scooted off the table and put her hand out as she approached the man. “I’m Safire Lewis. Pleased to meet you.”

“Hello. I’m Darien James.”

Now that she was standing next to him, she could gauge his height. He must be about six feet because she was five feet eight inches, and he had a couple of inches on her even in her heels. She looked up at him and smiled.

“If you’re free after you see Janice, let’s go to happy hour. I’ll be done in an hour, and it’s nearby.”

“Uh, I’m not sure how long I’ll be with Ms. Wilson. Perhaps a rain check.”

“Rain check nothing, Mr. James. You’re not getting away, hottie that you are.”

Safire took his arm as if they were out on a stroll and led him back into the hall.

“If you’re already tied up, now’s the time to say so. If not, we’re on.”

Down the hall, Safire tapped on Janice’s office door and poked her head in. She hadn’t let go of Mr. James’s arm and ushered him in when Janice nodded.

“Ms. Wilson, this is Darien James, my date for happy hour this evening. We need him done within the hour because happy hour at Jake’s ends at seven. And don’t go getting any ideas of your own.”

Janice laughed and got up from her desk, holding her hand out to Darien. Her blue suit with its calf-length skirt and billowy jacket looked matronly next to Safire’s purple mini. Safire was kidding about Janice getting ideas. Janice was long married with two school-age children and rarely went out after work. Safire liked to give Janice a chuckle every now and again. Her coworkers knew her sense of humor and relied on it to lighten their long days.

“Good afternoon, Mr. James. Mr. Benson buzzed a few minutes ago to say that you would be stopping in. I was wondering whether you’d gotten lost.”

“He was in perfectly good hands,” Safire said.

“I see that he was. Come have a seat.”

Safire turned to leave. “I’ll be in the lobby in an hour,” she said to Janice. “Don’t let him keep me waiting.”

Back in her office, Safire began wrapping up her research for Mr. Hines. It was a criminal case under state jurisdiction involving the mistreatment of a minor, and since cases involving children were Safire’s specific interest, she tore through the research. She had already traced the applicable law and had the relevant statutory leads. She had collected all the on-point court decisions she could find, and now she only had to check the relevant cases to see if any of the decisions had been reversed, overruled or criticized.

This kind of suit was why she wanted to become a lawyer or work with children. She wanted to make a difference, not only through research but by having her own cases. Maybe it was because she knew what it was like to be young and feel vulnerable and alone. She was still in high school when her mother died. Then her father went. With her older sister taking care of their younger brother, she knew she had to look out for herself. And she hated feeling vulnerable. She’d made up her mind to rid herself of that feeling and pursue whatever she would have pursued had the foundation not been pulled from under her feet. She wanted to give that to other young people—that determination, that empowerment, that fierceness.

Safire worked for half an hour more and then started packing up the books she had used, keeping out the ones in which she’d tagged pages. She collected her notes, shut down the computer and looked at her watch.

While she was working, her mind stayed focused on the task, but now Safire’s thoughts ran back to the ever-so-sexy Mr. Darien James. It was time to get to the lobby, or she might miss him. She grabbed her blazer, collected her purse from her office and said her usual goodbyes. She popped into the restroom to spruce up, taking the clip out of her hair to let the long curls fall down and refreshing her makeup. Then she stopped at the receptionist’s desk.

“Is Darien James still in Janice’s office?” she asked.

“Yes, he is,” the receptionist said.

“Good. I’ll be waiting for him in the lobby. Have a good night.”

Safire waved and stepped onto the elevator. In the lobby, her heels ticked over the marble floor as she made her way to the central fountain, nodding to the guard on her way. She loved the click of heels and was rarely without them. It made her feel as if she was going somewhere, as if she had a presence. She took a quarter out of her purse and tossed it into the fountain, hoping that Darien James would turn out to be all that she thought he would be.

And what was that? Safire wasn’t sure, but he was handsome and sweet—a dangerous and formidable combination and one that was rare in Safire’s world. She hadn’t really noticed that before. She went out a lot and dated a lot. It was part of her determination to embrace life, part of the willpower that kept her from being undone by the loss of her parents. She pursued men the way she pursued everything else—fiercely. But unlike an education or a career, men could also be a distraction from what was really important, what was really worth pursuing. Safire was keeping her eyes on what counted and never took men too seriously. The lookers she dated were generally a bit full of themselves, basically because they were lookers. It was easy to catch them, have fun with them and then throw them back into the sea for some less focused fisher.

Darien James hadn’t seemed that way at all. He seemed down-to-earth and unpretentious, a fact that made him all the more irresistible. In fact, it made him seem a little dangerous. Maybe he was different, different enough to fall for. Safire shrugged at the thought, which was unlike her. If nothing else, he was fine—capital F-I-N-E. Hopefully, he knew how to use his God-given talents. She sure as hell wanted to find out.

There was no telling how long he might be, so Safire sat on the retaining wall that skirted the fountain and took her phone out of her purse to call one of her girlfriends and talk about her latest dish—the one she wanted to be her dish, anyway. Camilla picked up on the second ring.

“Hey, girl,” Safire said. “I might not have long, but I have a date for happy hour tonight. He’s as good-looking as all get-out and seems sweet on top of that, not full of himself like the usual hottie....You may get to meet him. I have to meet him first for myself—really meet him. I’ll let you know how it turns out and whether he tastes as good as he looks.”

Safire moved the phone from her ear as Camilla squealed. She glanced up, however, and there was Darien James getting off the elevator. She moved the phone back to her ear.

“Here he is, girl. I gotta go.”

She clicked the phone shut, put it back in her bag and got up to make her way toward Darien.

As she neared him, he slowed and blinked twice.

“I hope you’re not surprised to see me,” Safire said.

“Well, yes. I didn’t think you were serious. And your hair is different.”

“Serious as an accident on I-95. You going?”

“Uh...” He seemed to think about it a moment.

Safire watched him closely in those few seconds. She saw the shift in his face as his reluctance began to drain away, and then he turned and looked into her face, clearly intrigued by the woman standing in front of him. Finally, he gave her a little smile.

“Yes. Happy hour. Why not?”

“Good. We get to really meet. Are you open to that?”

“Sure,” he said. “I just hadn’t planned on going out tonight. But you’ve convinced me. I’d like to get to know you better, and a few hours in the company of a beautiful woman can soothe a work-worn spirit.” He held out his arm to her. “Let’s go.”

Safire took the arm Darien offered, and the two ministepped through the revolving door together. They came out on the other side laughing, and Safire directed them down the street to Jake’s.

Jake’s was a sports bar on the corner, and it was always packed with downtown types at happy hour. It had huge television screens and a large bar in the center of the room. Booths were stationed along the walls, but these were filled by now. High tables with tall stools occupied the rest of the space. Safire and Darien took seats at one of these, and Safire signaled a waiter.

“Can I get you drinks?”

“Make mine a virgin strawberry daiquiri,” Safire said, rolling her neck, “or I might end up on the floor.”

“Make mine the same,” Darien said.

His voice was smooth and resonant, and Safire loved the thrill it sent up her spine.

“You don’t have to forgo the alcohol because of me,” Safire said. “Go ahead. Unwind.”

“I don’t really drink.”

That was a little odd to Safire, but she didn’t mind. Cute as he was, he really did seem to be rather unassuming, as well. Safire liked that.

“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.

“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 walk you to your car.”

Safire nodded and smiled.

“So how did you come to like 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.