Free This Time for Real by Yahrah St. John Page B

her and feasted on the burgundy silk wrap dress that emphasized her slender waist, accompanied by strappy sandals. When his eyes finally gazed into Peyton’s, he nearly lost it. The minimal makeup and the luxuriously big curls made her look sexy as hell. “Let’s go. Otherwise I won’t be responsible for my actions,” Malik rasped huskily.
    Peyton grinned. She understood because she’d felt it too, an underlying current of sexual tension.
    â€œI hope you’re in the mood for a fusion between Southern and Latin food, along with some good jazz,” Malik asked.
    â€œWhy’s that?” Peyton asked once they were out of the door.
    â€œBecause the place I’m taking you to has a Southern-Caribbean-African influence.”
    â€œNew York is all new to me. So I’m sure I’ll love wherever you take me,” Peyton responded honestly.
    Malik led her out to his BMW, which was usually housed in his garage. He lived so close to the community center in Harlem, he took the train or he could walk. But since Peyton lived in Brooklyn, a car was a necessity.
    When they arrived at the Riverbank State Park, Malik pulled up right outside the restaurant and a valet parked his car. The River Room had an expansive pyramid-shaped ceiling, rectangular and circular wall motifs in alternating green, gold, fuchsia and indigo colors. Peyton enjoyed the supper club feel and the view of the George Washington Bridge.
    â€œThis place is great,” Peyton said enthusiastically. “Thanks for bringing me.”
    â€œIt was my pleasure.” Malik said. He took charge and ordered a bottle of sauvignon blanc with his Caribbean crab cakes, while Peyton ordered the spiced duck with collard greens and sweet potato puree.
    After their delicious meal, they enjoyed the soulful sounds of a solo singer-keyboardist. During the set, Malik scooted his chair back and rose to his feet. “Let’s dance.” Several couples had already taken to the floor.
    â€œAll right.” Peyton slid her hand into his.
    Once they were on the dance floor, Malik slid his arms around her waist and Peyton circled her arms around his neck and together they swayed to the music. Malik usedthe opportunity to nuzzle her earlobe. He couldn’t decipher what scent Peyton was wearing. All he knew was that she smelled fragrant and deliciously sweet.
    When Malik’s rock-hard chest came into contact with her, an electrifying shudder reverberated right through Peyton. He must have felt it too, because when she glanced up he rewarded her with a smile, and a sensuous light passed between them. They danced to several songs, before the band changed to some up-tempo music.
    After they’d listened to a couple of jazz sets, Malik suggested a walk along the pier.
    â€œThat sounds great.” Peyton accepted Malik’s hand.
    They walked in silence for what seemed like ages, listening to the sounds of nature, when Malik broached a subject that had been on his mind.
    â€œHow long were you married?” Malik asked out of the blue.
    Peyton was shocked, even though she shouldn’t be. It was a logical question. He had to be curious about her past. “A little over seven years.”
    â€œLong time,” Malik commented at her side.
    â€œDoes that bother you?” Peyton asked. “That I’ve been married before?”
    â€œNo, not really.” Malik shook his head. “It’s just hard for me to imagine that kind of love and devotion.”
    â€œHaven’t you ever been in love?” Peyton asked, stopping their walk. She knew that love was a beautiful thing with the right person.
    â€œNo,” Malik replied, turning to Peyton. “There were moments I thought I was—was sure I was—but looking back, I know I wasn’t. Sometimes I wonder if I’m capable of loving another person.”
    Peyton wondered what would make Malik say that.“I think you are. You’re such an