Captivated Love. Yasmin Sullivan Y.

carried herself as if she was in control, as if she would be deciding what, how, when...and who. There was an air of loftiness to her that made her untouchable and kept her from seeming coarse or crass or vulgar.

      She clacked into the room on two-and-a-half-inch heels wearing a green brocade miniskirt with a matching blazer and a green camisole. It was much like the outfit she’d worn when they’d met. But she was stunning even without the heels and short shirt. These made her attractive in an in-your-face kind of way that Darien found unnecessary. It wasn’t his bag, really, or at least it wasn’t until he saw it on Safire. She seemed to wear the culture of allure so naturally that it almost disappeared on her, leaving only her long legs and sharp eyes and shapely figure.

      Still, she wore it, almost flaunting her beauty. He was used to the types who did this—or tried to do it. They were generally so impressed with themselves that they didn’t have time to be impressed with you, and they seemed to know that they could have anyone, so they eventually found someone they thought was better than you. In Darien’s experience, the beautiful ones who knew that they were beautiful were a danger, and almost everything he knew about Safire Lewis told him that she was one of these. Everything but the sudden tears that had fallen from her eyes like a brief burst of summer rain.

      She was carrying a leather portfolio, which she plopped onto the table in the conference room before rounding to his side. She bent down and whispered, “Hello again, hottie.” She gave him a wink that the others could not see, and then she straightened herself, shaking his hand formally before proceeding around the table to introduce herself.

      Darien couldn’t help being amused by Safire’s private greeting. He smiled and played along with her pretense of a polite exchange. He also took this as a signal to begin and pulled the packages he’d prepared out of his briefcase, handing them around the table as he followed Safire’s path introducing himself.

      “You might want to glance through this as we wait,” he said to the potential backers. “The right-hand side has a detailed summary of our programs. Each description identifies our community’s need, our achievement goals, our assessment instruments and our projected program budgets, and each one indicates how long the program has been running or whether it’s a new addition to our fall lineup. The left-hand side is a packet of the brochures that we have describing the Heritage Center and its programs—current and forthcoming.” Darien finished handing out the packets and sat down. “I’ll talk about these once everyone is here, but you can browse through them now.”

      “This is all very professionally done,” one of the panel members said.

      “Well, we’ve been running for over fifty years, and we want to keep running for fifty more.” That drew genial laughter from the group. “Our programs have brought up SAT scores of participating high school students, and they’ve actually had an impact on student high school completion rates.”

      “You seem a lot like the YMCA,” another panel member said.

      “In some ways we are, but not all. We don’t run athletic programs. We do tutoring, family counseling and computer training, and we teach classes in art, reading and writing, music, history, math, science enrichment—”

      “I see you’ve already started.” Alberta Evans, the manager of the project for the Nova Investment Firm, came in leading the two potential backers they were waiting for. Darien nodded and handed them all packets. Now they were really ready to begin.

      Mrs. Evans opened up the meeting with remarks about their purpose for being there. Then she handed the proceedings over to Darien, who walked them through the packet and the programs. “The last thing I want to point out to you is the brochure for our upcoming fund-raiser. You’ll see all the ways you can participate on the back. These programs work, so they’re worth supporting.”

      After Darien fielded questions, Mrs. Evans introduced Safire, who opened her portfolio and summarized what the Law Offices of Benson and Hines planned to do for the Legal Assistance Program, selling the whole package along the way. Darien was seeing Safire in action in the professional arena for the first time. She was efficient but endearing, and she was very persuasive. He could see why Benson and Hines had sent her.

      After that, Mrs. Evans introduced the potential backers by name and industry, and they each said a bit about what kind of corporate backing they did and why they were considering investing in the Heritage Center.

      “I can’t thank you enough for coming,” Darien said.

      Mrs. Evans went over a few pages in the proposal that Nova had helped to draft for the Heritage Center. “Now,” she said, “I need to meet with the backers alone so we can create a response to the proposal. Don’t go far, Mr. James and Ms. Lewis. We’ll have our response ready within the hour.”

      Darien and Safire moved into the waiting area and dallied at the table set up with refreshments.

      “What does she mean when she says that they’ll create a response to the proposal?” Darien asked. “Does she mean that they’re going to decide now who’ll give what?”

      “That’s exactly it,” Safire said. “These are the ones in charge, the ones who can make the decision.”

      “It might be good that I didn’t know that going in,” Darien said and then chuckled.

      “Nervous, Mr. James?” She eyed him in a teasing manner.

      “Well, there’s a lot riding on this, like whether all those kids have a safe place to go where they can learn something or get help. It’s not about me. I’m incidental.”

      “You don’t seem incidental.”

      Safire looked at Darien and gave him that seductive half smile. He couldn’t tell whether she was making fun or not.

      “Today you’re standing in for the director of the Heritage Center,” she said. “That’s not incidental.”

      Safire had selected a pastry, and the sugar coating was all over her fingers, which she licked in the most alluring way. It reminded Darien of the sauce from the hot wings that she’d kissed and licked off his face in the sports bar, and the memory, paired with what she was doing now, made his body start to react. Was it him, or was everything about this woman erotic in some way?

      They took seats in the waiting area, and Safire crossed one leg over the over, her long limbs showing in her short skirt.

      Safire turned to him, genially placing her hand on his knee.

      “So, Mr. James, are you still taking it slowly?”

      “I guess I am,” he said. “I’ve tried it the other way.”

      Her eyes flew open. “That says a lot about you. What about chicken and beef and lamb and pork? Have you gotten over your fear of meat yet? Or your fear of women?”

      Safire’s teasing tone made Darien look at her to gauge her intent. “I never said I was afraid of meat or women.”

      “Show me that you’re not,” she said, licking her fingers again.

      Darien shook his head. “You don’t slow down for a minute, do you? What makes you need to move so quickly? What makes you afraid of really having a man in your life, someone who knows you, someone who—”

      Safire uncrossed her legs and recrossed them in a huff.

      “I’m not scared, Mr. James. I just know what I want, and I’m not afraid to say it. You might be fearful of empowered women. I want someone who’s not scared to go after what he wants and someone not spooked when I say what I want.”

      “You don’t have to be wanton to have that, and you—”

      “What if I like being wanton? Isn’t it okay if I have desires and express them? If I were a man, you’d be giving me a high five, and we’d be bonding.”

      Darien couldn’t help laughing at that, but he didn’t agree.

      “Not if you were a player. Not if you were