The Satyr's Curse (The Satyr's Curse Series Book 1) Read Online Free PDF Page A

was that the man with the disturbing eyes had called her beautiful.
    “Maybe I’m not comfortable with beautiful,” she admitted as she pushed a stray lock of brown hair back into her ponytail. “Cute, pretty, attractive are more my style, Julian.” 
    “That does not speak well of the men in your life, Jazzmyn. Surely some man has called you beautiful in the past.” He edged closer to her. “Were you embarrassed then, or is that something you only do with me?”
    She detected a hint of mischief in his dark eyes. It was almost as if he enjoyed making her uncomfortable. Jazzmyn quickly regained her composure and held her head high.
    “I think you will find most women are taken aback when a man calls them beautiful, especially in a crowded restaurant by a man they hardly know.”
    Julian grinned, showing off his sharp, white teeth. “What if the circumstances were different? Let’s say we were alone and you knew me well…very well. Would you be uncomfortable then?”
    Jazzmyn smiled and placed her hand on her hip, feeling certain that he was toying with her. “You would not be calling me beautiful then, Julian.” She moved closer to him. “You might just be calling me flexible,” she whispered, catching a whiff of his beguiling scent.
    Julian leaned his head back and laughed, a long, melodious chortle that made every woman in the restaurant turn and look his way. His laughter reminded Jazzmyn of music. It was like a warm, haunting melody that reached into the deepest chasms of her soul.
    Julian took his stool once again and picked up his glass of wine from the bar. “You are an intriguing creature, Jazzmyn. You’re not like other women who shy away from my interrogations. You meet my thoughts head on with your own.” He smiled at her over his glass of wine. “You don’t know how refreshing that is to someone like me.” He took a sip from his glass.
    “Perhaps I’m not intimidated by you, Julian, because you’re a customer in my restaurant and your clever banter is best suited for such circumstances. Whereas a woman alone with you in a strange place, and surrounded by people she does not know, might be apprehensive to meet your thoughts ‘head on’ with her own.”
    He shrugged while putting his glass down on the bar. “Safety is an illusion, Jazzmyn. You think you are safe here in your restaurant, but you’re not. You only tell yourself you are, so you can be more at ease with me and with your other customers.”
    Jazzmyn folded her arms across her chest as she noticed how his profound confidence seemed to ooze from his every pore. “You’re a very strange man, Julian. You have been coming here for over three weeks now, having these little verbal sparring sessions with me, learning everything about me and my life, but I know nothing about you.”
    Julian shook his head. “That’s not entirely true. You know that I am not gainfully employed—”
    “But have a hefty family trust fund,” Jazzmyn interrupted.
    He nodded at her. “You know that I’m from New Orleans and have recently—”
    “Returned from a trip abroad, where you spent time traveling across Europe,” Jazzmyn cut in once again. “You’re not married, have a house in the French Quarter, a fondness for jazz music, and a passion for expensive red wine.” She gestured to the bottle of merlot on the bar next to his glass. 
    Julian clapped his hands together. “There, see, you know a great deal about me. More than many.”
    Jazzmyn had a seat on the red leather barstool next to him. “But there are a lot of things I don’t know.”
    “You are anxious to learn more about me, I can sense that in you. All right, tonight I am an open book. Ask your questions, Jazzmyn.”
    Jazzmyn’s body itched with curiosity as a flurry of questions circled around in her head. “Every night when you come here, you only drink red wine. You have refused my numerous offers to have something prepared for you from the kitchen. Is there something