Читать книгу Captivated Love - Yasmin Sullivan Y. - Страница 12

Chapter 3

Safire parked, grabbed her briefcase and started toward the Heritage Center. She was wearing a skirt suit, as usual, but this one was made of a shiny turquoise shantung blend. The jacket flared out at the waist and cuffs, and the miniskirt flared at the hem. She had on her black pumps, and the heels tapped out her approach.

This afternoon she was representing Benson and Hines in the Legal Assistance Program. There were so many people seeking help that the firm decided to have her put in some time on the project doing preliminary interviews. This way, she could do a portion of the initial research and set up appointments for the clients with the right attorneys.

It had been two weeks since Safire had last seen Darien James, and she didn’t know if she would run into him today. They were so different that she hadn’t planned to pursue it any further. In fact, she hadn’t known she would see him at the Nova Investment Firm meeting. He said he did a little administrative work at the Heritage Center, not that he stood in for the director at important fund-raising meetings. Well, plan or no plan, she might see him again today, perhaps if he was teaching an art class.

She didn’t know how she’d feel if she did see him, but then, she didn’t know how she’d feel if she didn’t. She remembered the first day that she met him and the way he’d kissed her at her car. He was so firm, so gentle, so unlike everything she had known. And there was that moment at the investment firm when he’d cupped her chin and looked into her eyes. There was something about him in those moments, this tenderness. It just arrested her, froze her, threw her off-kilter. It didn’t shut her down, but it immobilized her and halted her play. And it wasn’t just because he was so sinfully good-looking.

Then again, Darien James was still a nondrinking, nonpartying, veggie-burger-eating stick-in-the-mud. Chocolate hottie though he may be, he was still too conservative for her. He wanted her to slow down rather than quench her needs, and she wasn’t having it. Slow just wasn’t her pace.

Safire opened the door to the main office at the Heritage Center only to find that there was no one at the receptionist’s desk. Offices surrounded the reception area, but most of the doors were closed. She listened for a moment and heard no signs of movement, so she called out.

“Hello. Is anyone here?”

“Just a minute,” a voice called back.

Then Darien’s head popped out of a door. He had a phone to his ear and gestured for her to wait. Then he strode out from the office. He was wearing black jeans and a black T-shirt with a white shirt on top of it, and over that he wore a silver vest with words like freedom and respect embroidered in black thread. Around his neck he wore a leather rope with wooden beads that had a fist handing down at the center. Safire looked at him and couldn’t help smiling. Now that he wasn’t wearing a suit, he looked the part of an artist. His long braids were tied back at the nape of his neck, as usual, and his astute brown eyes stood out among his chiseled chocolate features, good enough to nibble on.

“Ms. Lewis,” he said and held out his hand as he approached her.

“Mr. James,” she returned. “Why so formal?”

“I didn’t want to make any assumptions.”

“Safire is just fine. I’m here to—”

“To do the interviews for the Legal Assistance Program. I know. I’ll be serving as your staff liaison this afternoon, and you’ll be using my office.”

“Oh, I didn’t know. Your office?”

“Come with me.”

Safire had grown up in North Miami and had come to a few events at the Heritage Center, but she’d never been inside the administrative suite.

Darien led Safire to his office, which held a large wooden desk and two facing chairs with another chair in the corner. There were paintings of every kind all over the walls, some clearly by children. The shelves were lined with art books and sculptures made of wood and clay and ceramic. There was color in every conceivable corner. The file cabinets were covered with images—mostly watercolors—held on by magnets. Around the room were framed posters of events that had been held at the Heritage Center.

In addition to a computer and printer, the desk was strewn with papers, books and various art supplies.

“I just have to get a few things that I’ll need out front, and I can make some room for you to work,” Darien said, gathering things and clearing a space for her. “The first clients are in the small conference room across the reception area. I’ll bring them in when you’re ready, and I’ll be at the reception desk to greet the next ones. We set appointments at the top of each hour, and you have four this afternoon.” He nodded at her. “Just let me know when you’re ready.”

Darien took his things and went out to the reception area.

Safire pulled her portfolio and the needed paperwork out of her briefcase, including interview checklists, legal glossaries, a notepad and a pen. She spread out her things and made herself comfortable at the desk. Then she got up to find Darien.

“Is your receptionist off today?”

“We don’t actually have a receptionist right now. We have a couple of student assistants, but they come in after school in time to service the after-school programs. We all do a bit of double duty around here. Are you ready?”

“Yes, I am.”

Safire winked at Darien and headed back to his office. In a couple of moments, he brought in a family of three—two parents and their son. The son, who was fourteen, had been beaten up by a bully at school. The family was struggling and had no health insurance, and they wanted to sue for medical and dental fees resulting from the incident.

Anything involving children moved Safire’s heart, filled her with conviction and focused her on the task at hand. This was the kind of case she wanted as her own, the kind of case she would study law for.

Having a little brother—one so much younger than she was—helped inspire that passion. She would have a fit if anyone was picking on little Philly. In reality, she had stepped out of the way to make sure that her older sister could look after her younger brother after their mother died. Angelina had to be free to concentrate on Philly. That was another reason she was on her own. She had to make sure that she was all right so that Angelina could go on making sure that Philly was all right. In fact, she had to be ready so that when Philly went off to college, she could pitch in when needed. So far, her plan was working, but it took grit and determination. And it took even more to have a life on top of that. It took being fierce. Now she wanted to go back to school. Hopefully, this plan would work, as well.

With only an hour, Safire had to make good time, so she let the young man describe the incident and then launched into questions. Near the end of the hour, she took their contact information and said that she would call them with an appointment for the proper attorney. She got up to shake the parents’ hands and give the young man’s shoulder a gentle squeeze.

“I’ll be calling you tomorrow,” she said and then smiled.

Darien came in to see if she was ready for the next client. She gestured toward the nearest chair and continued with her notes.

“I need to make some brief notes after each interview. It’s standard practice. I’ll only take five to ten minutes. That’s why I ended a little early. Next time give me an hour and a half—at least—for each interview. In fact, it might work best if you call me with a general description of the issue when you’re scheduling so I can estimate how much time I’ll need.”

Darien had taken the seat she’d pointed to. He propped one of his ankles on top of the other thigh and settled back. “We can do that.”

Safire finished her notes and checked her watch. She had a few minutes to spare, and with Darien so nearby, she was itching to play for just a little bit. This wasn’t like her. She liked to play, but not at work. Something about this man drew her to the chase. She tucked her notes into a folder, labeled it and stowed it in her briefcase. Then she got up and rounded the desk, settling back against it and crossing her legs in front of her.

“Are you ready for the next client?” Darien asked.

“Almost,” Safire replied. “Tell me a little about them. Or do you know?”

“This one I do. Miss Levita Smalls has had her daughter in programs at the Heritage Center for about two years.”

As Darien talked, Safire bent forward and touched the lettering on his vest, running her hand over his shoulder and down his chest as she read the words she was tracing with her fingers. He sat up in his chair but continued talking about Miss Smalls.

“She’s been divorced for the last year and is struggling to keep afloat financially.”

Safire bent farther forward, resting her hands on Darien’s open thighs. With her so close, his voice quieted to a low bass.

“She works in housekeeping in a hotel in Coral Way.”

Safire leaned in and kissed Darien softly on the cheek. Then she whispered in his ear, “What’s her issue?”

Darien cleared his throat and turned to look at her. Safire leaned back up and folded her arms in front of her.

“She needs child support from her ex-husband.”

“Bring her in.”

Darien got up and went to the door. He looked back at her for a moment. His brow furrowed in consternation, and he shook his head. Then he disappeared.

Safire wasn’t quite sure what had gotten into her. She never wasted time with anyone who wasn’t entirely interested, and she was generally good about not mixing work with recreational pursuits, not while on the job. But here she was, tantalized by this man and wanting to tantalize him. Of course, he was sexy as hell. But there was more. There was a reservation about him and a sweetness. That was just as much a turn-on as his good looks and the way he could make her stop breathing by touching her face or kissing her. She wanted to take that self-righteous glint from his eyes and corrupt him. He kept her thinking about chocolate. Oh la la.

Darien came back with Miss Smalls, a petite woman in a blue floral dress. It was clearly her Sunday best, but it was fraying a bit at the seams, as was her handbag. Safire greeted her, showed her to a seat in front of the desk and settled in to do the interview.

“So, you’re interested in suing your ex-husband for child support, Miss Smalls?”

“Yes, I am. He hasn’t helped with Amelie since the divorce.”

She needed to know about the divorce settlement and child custody ruling, about the ex’s income and current family situation. She only had an hour, so she put aside other thoughts and focused.

When it was over, Darien came in and took a seat while she finished her notes.

“You know,” he said, “you’re really a nymph. But then, the way you dress kind of gives that away.”

Safire snapped back, “First, thank you for the compliment. Nymphs were deities, as you know. And second, I am the girl next door, as long as you don’t live next to a nunnery.” She laughed and finished a sentence she’d been writing and then looked at him. “And you, you’re the mild-mannered Clark Kent.”

“Thank you.”

“Oh—” she started on her notes again “—but what I want is a Superman.”

“I think you’re defining ‘Superman’ by the wrong paradigm.”

“I beg to differ, not that you know what my paradigm is.”

“I could describe it,” Darien said, “but I think I need to let you write your notes. The next client is here.”

Safire finished her notes and then looked up.

“Tell me about this one.”

“This is Mrs. Martinez. I don’t know a lot about her issues, only that there seems to have been some abuse in her marriage. I think she’s moved out, but I’m not sure if they’re divorced. I know that she’s concerned for her children—there are two that I know of—and that she wants custody of them.”

As always, when there were children involved, Safire refocused immediately. So far, all the cases at the Heritage Center had involved children, and it got Safire thinking about law school and specializing on cases with children. When she was finished, she would be great as a pro bono attorney for the Heritage Center. That or teaching children. She had to make up her mind, and she had to do it soon.

Safire looked up to find Darien staring at her.

“What are you thinking?” he asked.

Safire let out a breath. “I was thinking about how many of the cases here involve a threat to children. It’s a shame. It’s something I want to help fix.”

“You are helping.”

Safire didn’t want to say more about her hopes for the future. “I know,” she conceded. Then she looked at her watch. “Let’s bring in Mrs. Martinez.”

Safire did her interview, and then Darien joined her again as she wrote her notes. Because the interviews were so compacted, the hours were flying by for Safire.

“Are you getting anything done with all of these interruptions into your time?” she asked.

“A little. I don’t work well with interruptions when I have real work to do. I can only multitask mindless work.”

Safire looked up and smiled for a moment.

“You have a beautiful smile,” Darien said, “and you smile often. I like that.”

“Uh-oh. You’re starting to sound enamored of a nymph. You better watch out or I might work my goddess powers on you.” She chuckled.

“Speaking of you,” he said, “how was your date with that banker you met at Nova?”

“I didn’t have a date with him, but you sound a little jealous. That must mean you like me.” She chuckled again.

Darien was quiet, and Safire finished the last sentence of her notes before glancing up. He was looking at her intently. Then he shifted and drew a folder from his lap.

“I’ve looked at the next set of interviews,” he said, “and I’ve jotted down what I know about the cases. If you take a look when you’re done, you can let me know how much time you’ll need so we can reschedule.”

They were looking at each other as he leaned forward, but when their hands met over the folder, they both looked down, suspended in the middle of a simple gesture.

Safire felt electricity in their touch. It moved from her hand to the pit of her stomach, and from there it crawled up her spine and wound down to the place where her body had started to throb. They both stood at the same time, facing each other across the desk. Safire looked back up at Darien, and what she saw in his eyes was desire.

It wasn’t in Safire’s character to back down from desire. It wasn’t in her to let something go that she wanted without at least trying for it. She’d watched her sister become matronly under the pressure of being mother and father to their younger brother and a caretaker for their elderly great-aunt, who had recently passed away. Safire wasn’t going to get old before her time. She’d learned to contend with the powers that be when they told her she couldn’t—couldn’t get along without a mother and father to help her make decisions, couldn’t make it through college on her own, couldn’t have a good life on only her income, couldn’t do all that she wanted to do. That backbone she carried into all of her dealings. That pluck had become second nature.

Now she stood looking at the desire in Darien’s eyes.

Safire spoke on impulse, “Come out with me tonight, Darien James.”

Darien paused for a long moment. Then he sighed, and his brow wrinkled. “It doesn’t seem to be in the stars for us, Safire Lewis, aka nymph.”

“Why is that?”

“You mean in addition to how different we are? I have to work this evening. I’m teaching an art class in the after-school program after I bring in your last client, which I need to do now.” He looked over his shoulder. “A student assistant will be out front when you’re done. You can call me about rescheduling the next set of interviews.” He turned toward the door and then turned back. “Take care, Safire.”

Safire tipped her head and smiled.

In a moment, Darien was back with the last client and then took his leave. The man he brought owned a small business that was just beginning to break even. He was having trouble with a contractor hired to do some renovations for expansion. The job had been botched, but the contractor blamed the subcontractor and refused to fix it or pay for it to be fixed. Safire refocused and got through her interview. Then she packed up her things and waved to the student at the receptionist’s desk as she headed out.

There was life in the halls now. People were on their way to various activities. Rooms were being used for tutoring, workshops, music lessons, art class.

Safire paused near a room where small children were engaged in what seemed to be an art class. She listened for Darien’s voice, and when she heard it, she peeked inside. The scene was one of mild chaos. She saw empty chairs for bigger children at the back of the room. One was near her and partially obscured by the open door. She tiptoed inside and took a seat.

On observation, there was some order to the anarchy. Children with protective aprons tied about them and large goggles on had flat slabs of clay in front of them, which had been cut into four-inch tiles. Darien was instructing them on how to make decorations in the tile.

“They don’t all have to be the same. If you want them to be similar, that’s fine, but each will have some variation because these are handmade. Go to the front to look at the pictures if you still need more ideas.”

He walked around giving the littler ones assistance and commenting on the pieces being made by the bigger children. Ages seemed to range from four or five to ten or twelve.

“Look at Kathy’s. You can make holes in them if you’d like. That’s fine. If you make a mistake, you can build the tile back up, but make sure not to leave seams. A bit of water helps. If you engrave the tile by drawing a design in it, use water to soften the edges of the engraving.”

Darien was circling the room and was now in a position to see her. Safire wasn’t sure what to do. She remained where she was, and he might have missed her except that while he was busy giving comments to one of the older boys, one of the younger girls came over to Safire. She might have been five, and she approached with a slab of clay plastered to her hand.

“Are you our teacher, too?” the little girl asked.

Her query drew Darien’s attention, and he began watching them.

“No, little one, I’m visiting your class today.”

“Look,” the girl said, holding out her tile. “This one is a woman. I can’t get it.”

“That’s very good,” Safire said, “but if you draw in a dress here—” she used her finger to gently trace on the tile “—then it will look more like a woman, if that’s what you like. It can be anything you want, and it doesn’t have to look like what other people think a woman is.”

The little girl ran back to her space at the table and used a blunt stick to etch in the line that Safire had traced. Then she ran back to Safire.

“Look, look! How’s this? It’s a woman now.”

“That’s very nice. Are you going to decorate the dress? You could draw little flowers or—”

“I’m going to use the thing to make dots,” she said and took off again to her seat.

Darien kept circling the room and punctuating it with comments, but he nodded and smiled at Safire for a second, letting her know she had done okay. Safire was glad to have done a good job. She relaxed then and enjoyed the class until it was finished.

“Okay, all of your tiles should be nearly done. When you’re finished, bring your cardboard with all the tiles and put them on the shelf to dry. I’ll fire them in the kiln, and next class we paint them, so you’ll be wearing aprons and goggles again.” He laughed.

When class was over, parents or siblings came in to get the children, and they started filing out. Darien started on the cleanup and Safire got up to help.

“No way,” he said. “Not in that outfit. You’ll get this stuff all over you, unless you want me to wrap you in a plastic bag.” He chuckled.

She settled back down and watched him.

“You handled Lucy well. You know, we always need help in our after-school programs. You have to get fingerprinted and all that, but it can be fun. You can assist a teacher with a class, or you can start your own in whatever specialty you have. And it doesn’t have to center on little kids. We have programs for folks all the way up to adults.”

“I’ll have to consider the idea. It looks like fun.”

Actually, Safire had already made up her mind. She wanted to know more about working with young people—teaching them. Her desire to work with children had her torn between law—with a focus on children—and teaching—with a focus on literature. She was already exploring law, but Darien’s comment had just given her a way to explore teaching—working with young people directly. She was secretly thrilled by the possibility. But she didn’t want it to be Darien’s class, and she wasn’t planning to launch a new class as a way of getting to him. She would call the director the next day and make arrangements on her own. Darien might not even have to know.

When he was finished, Darien turned to her. “Since you stayed through my class, I’d like to invite you out for dinner.”

“That sounds good, but let me call my girls. We had talked about a club tonight.”

“While you do that, I’ll go put things back in my office and collect what I need.”

Safire made a quick call and was waiting for Darien when he returned.

Darien knew of an Italian place nearby where he could order vegetarian lasagna, so they went there for dinner. Safire had regular lasagna. She teased Darien with a forkful, and he teased her with a forkful of his.

“It’s much sexier when you tease me,” Darien said. “But no meat for me.”

“Don’t you miss it?”

“Sometimes. But I feel healthier this way. Only my mom can really tempt me on that front.”

“Do you ever surrender to temptation?” Safire asked, turning her head and looking at him suggestively out of the corner of her eye.

“I’m not sure which question to answer—the one that you asked or the one that you implied.”

They both laughed.

Over dinner they talked about his work at the Heritage Center and her work at Benson and Hines and where they overlapped. It went so well that they decided afterward to go to a place called Aunt Joe’s, which had wine and coffee as well as foods and desserts. It had music videos playing on monitors and even dancing, though the floor was small.

Over his chai tea latte and her merlot, they split a piece of carrot cake.

“I guess this answers your question about me being a strict vegetarian.”

“How so?”

“Latte and carrot cake—milk and eggs.”

“You must have a sweet tooth,” Safire speculated, thinking again of chocolate and how sweet this man would be on the palate.

“I do,” Darien said. “But I don’t do this often, and when I cook, I use substitutes.”

“So you do give in to temptation sometimes.” Safire winked at Darien and smiled, wondering if she could get her name added to the menu.

Suddenly, Safire asked Darien to dance. A slow song had come on, and she didn’t want to miss a chance for a slow dance with this man.

There were few couples on the dance floor because it was so early, but Safire didn’t mind. Darien, though, seemed a bit self-conscious, at least at first. Safire pressed her body against Darien’s and felt herself begin to throb. She wrapped her arms around his neck, leaned her head on his shoulder and sighed. She closed her eyes against the multicolored strobe lights that circled the room and gave in to the sensation of being in Darien’s arms. Although they were in public, it felt so erotic, so intimate, so safe.

The rugged smell of Darien’s body filled her senses when she inhaled, and the taste of bittersweet chocolate rose to the tip of her tongue. The feel of his body was delicious. Their thighs brushed gently against each other’s as they wavered to the slow, heavy beat and the guttural voice of a woman yearning for love. His hard chest pressed against her breasts, and his hands gripped her hip and back, drawing her into the curves of his form. It all sent a tingling through Safire that made her pulse rush. And she could tell from the bulge pressing against her hip that he was also getting a bit stimulated.

The slow song ended and a faster song came on. The two continued to sway slowly for a moment, long enough for Safire to know that he, too, hated to have the dance end. Then they looked at each other and went back to their table, Darien’s palm pressed to her back.

At their table, Safire placed her hand in Darien’s. He accepted it and held it in a gentle fist.

She leaned toward him and motioned for him to come. He leaned his ear toward her, but that wasn’t what she wanted. When she said nothing, he turned to look at her. That’s when she caught his lips with hers. It was a chaste kiss, but they held it for a long moment before he leaned back, breaking the connection.

As she ran her fingers along his palm, he peered at her, but it was a gaze of inquiry.

“Why do you move so fast?” Darien asked.

“Well, I know what I want. What’s wrong with that?”

“And what do you want, Safire?” He looked at her deeply.

She answered quietly, almost wistfully. “Come home with me, Darien.” When he stalled, she looked him up and down and added, “I dare you.”

Then she leaned back in her chair, crossed her legs and gave a devilish smile—waiting.