The guy in the mall had probably just been staring at them trying to get the courage to ask one of them out. And she’d reacted like he’d been a serial killer or something.

There was no telling what Mara thought of her now.

“We’re here.”

Jackson brought the car to a smooth stop in front of a busy restaurant. Ridley craned her head and was shocked to see a cluster of what could only be photographers.

Jackson handed his keys to the valet and then jogged around to her side of the car. He opened her door for her and offered his hand. She took it, gratefully. As soon as she stepped out flashbulbs went off, blinding her temporarily. She put up a hand to shield her eyes.

Flashbulbs continued to pop as they hurried into the restaurant. There had only been a few photographers but they were as annoying as a crowd.

Several men in dark suits stood just inside the restaurant holding clipboards. Jackson turned to one of them and said “Jackson Alexander and guest.”

After he found Jackson’s name on his list, they were allowed to enter.

“This is nice. Thanks for inviting me.”

“Are you kidding? You’re doing me a huge favor by coming. I usually attend these alone and end up listening to some stuffed-suit executive from the label all night.”

“Don’t try to tell me you don’t have a date, usually. Because I won’t believe you.”

“It’s not that I can’t get a date. I’m just not willing to deal with what comes along with it. Namely, someone who just wants me to introduce her to other people.”

“Oh. Well, you definitely don’t have to worry about that with me.”

“Ah, here we are. Our table.” Jackson stopped at a round table and pulled out a chair. She sat gratefully. There were tiny place cards with his name on them in front of their seats. She looked around the table curiously, but didn’t recognize anyone. There was a redhead across from her with her hair teased up into some kind of eighties-style bouffant who looked slightly familiar, but everyone else at the table was much older.

“Hey, Jackson. Good of you to make it.” A man on Jackson’s left greeted him with a warm handshake.

“Of course, Scott. Allow me to introduce Ridley Wells.”

Ridley smiled politely as the man waved hello and introduced his wife, a bored-looking brunette who appeared to be about three decades younger than he was. The woman just nodded in her direction before flagging down a waiter to ask for more wine.

She leaned over to Jackson and whispered, “Wow, you weren’t kidding about these parties. I think she’s already drunk.”

“Now you see why I needed you to rescue me.”

The appetizers were brought before she could even look around. Somehow the restaurant wasn’t what she had expected. Although it was obviously classy, she didn’t feel at all out of place. Most of the people at their table seemed friendly enough, if a little self-absorbed. Not that she minded, because she definitely didn’t want to talk about her life.

“I’m really sorry about all that commotion outside. This part of Virginia is home to quite a few celebrities and some local photographers have started hanging out here trying to catch a glimpse of them.”

“Anyone I might have heard of?”

“We have a lot of people from the Hip-Hop and R&B scene. Timbaland, The Neptunes, Missy Elliott.”

“Wow, I had no idea.”

“Since you’re so into jazz, you’re probably already aware that the late, great Ella Fitzgerald was also from this area. She was born in Newport News. Virginia has a rich musical history. Well, anyway. I know they’re just trying to make a living, but man are they annoying!”

“No apology is needed.”  She smiled at him behind her hand. He seemed so nervous and she was sure a man like Jackson Alexander didn’t get nervous often. She was flattered that he was going to such lengths to show her a good time.

“So, how long have you been into jazz?” Jackson leaned back in his chair and studied her.

“Ever since I can remember. My mom used to play jazz albums every weekend while cleaning the house. It was usually Coltrane or Miles Davis on Saturdays and then she’d sing along with Ella Fitzgerald on Sundays while cooking dinner.” She smiled at the memory. “It was the only time she really seemed happy.”

“I’m sorry you didn’t get to see her happy more often. I can’t even imagine.”

“That’s because your parents are such happy people. Tell me about what it was like to grow up with three brothers.”

“Chaotic. We all had chores on the farm, of course. I was usually able to get out of mine if I was crafty enough.”

“So you were a charmer once. What happened?”

“I guess I deserved that.” He held up his wineglass. “Touché.”

She took a healthy sip of her own drink. “Just teasing.”

“My dad would always bring us along while fixing things or repairing fence. We always ate dinner together and then played outside until bedtime. After we got older, my parent’s cheered us on at our little league and basketball games. Even when I went away to college, they made a point to call every week and check on me. Until I dropped out, anyway.” He smiled sheepishly.

“Your parents sound really special, Jackson. I’m sure they’re very proud of all of their children.”

Dinner passed in comfortable silence. Both seemed at a loss for words and spent most of the meal staring into their wineglasses or admiring their surroundings. Usually she felt compelled to at least try to make polite conversation but with Jackson she felt free to just sit and enjoy her meal in peace. Jackson seemed to share her thoughts as he smiled at her over his wineglass.