The Satyr's Curse (The Satyr's Curse Series Book 1) by Alexandrea Weis

well.” He nodded to the rearview mirror. “He’s been parked a few cars behind us for a while. I noticed a car following us from the restaurant, and I assumed it was him.”
    Jazzmyn sat up in her seat and eagerly scanned the street outside. “Kyle? Are you sure?”
    “I’m sure,” Julian replied with a smug grin.
    Jazzmyn spotted Kyle’s blue Toyota pickup parked three cars back. “That son of a bitch,” she cursed as she grabbed for the door handle.
    But Julian reached for her hand. “Wait,” he urged as he kept her from jumping out of the car. “I suggest you just ignore him. Confronting him will only lead to an argument, lots of shouting, and eventually a visit from the police. A man like Kyle should never be confronted with anger. Why don’t you speak to him in the morning when you are not misguided by frustration and fatigue?”
    Jazzmyn was a little amazed by Julian’s cool practicality. In her experience men readily embraced confrontation, eagerly accepting any challenge that allowed them to assert their manhood.
    “Why aren’t you looking for a fight like other guys would be in this situation?”
    Julian let go of her hand and sat back in his seat. “Perhaps I’m not like ‘other guys.’ I’ve experienced a lot more of life and human emotions to know that airing on the side of restraint is better than coming to blows with anyone.”
    Jazzmyn contemplated the depth of his eyes for a moment. “You’re a very unusual man, Julian Devereau.”
    “I’m glad you noticed.” He turned and exited the car.
    As Julian came around to her door, she observed the ease of his stride and the fluidity of his movements. There was no doubt that the body beneath his tailored gray suit was strong and well disciplined. For an instant, Jazzmyn wanted to explore that body. She wanted to run her hands across his wide chest and feel the firmness of his buttocks in her hands. A gush of warmth quickly spread through her and the car suddenly became uncomfortably stuffy.
    A cool rush of air swirled around her when Julian opened her car door. Jazzmyn took his outstretched hand, eager to feel the touch of his skin once more. The moment their fingers met, that kick of electricity returned, and Jazzmyn stared at their united hands in amazement.
    “I shall see you to your door.” He waved to the red-bricked walkway that led to her home.
    “No, that’s all right.” She reluctantly let go of Julian’s hand. “We have an audience, and I don’t want to provoke him further.”
    Julian nodded his understanding. “When can I see you again?” he softly asked.
    “Next time you come to the restaurant we—”
    “Away from the restaurant,” he interrupted. “I want to take you out on a date. To spend some time with you where there are no interruptions, no hungry customers, and no….” He looked to Kyle’s truck. “Overprotective chefs.”
    “I work every day, and when I’m not at the restaurant there is….” Julian’s cool eyes silenced her protests. Jazzmyn swallowed her reluctance and said, “Sundays are our slowest day. Perhaps I could take off during the day.”
    Julian slowly smiled. “I’ll pick you up Sunday around ten. We can go to the French Quarter, have lunch, and I can show you some of my favorite spots in the city.”
    Jazzmyn’s heart began to beat a little faster at the prospect of spending a day alone with such an engaging man.
    “All right. Sunday it is,” she affirmed.
    Julian directed his eyes once more to Kyle’s truck. “Perhaps you should go inside, before he comes over here and wants to beat the living hell out of me.”
    Jazzmyn gave Julian one last nervous smile and then turned for the walkway to her home. She moved quickly to her double front doors, wanting desperately to gaze back at Julian, and at the same time dreading the possibility of seeing Kyle’s truck parked by the curb. When she reached her doors and pulled out her keys from her purse, she gave into her curiosity and