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.
“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.
