Читать книгу Desire September 2017 Books 1 -4 - Yvonne Lindsay - Страница 11

Two

“He knew exactly what he wanted,” Jasmine told her sisters, “and he wasn’t backing down.”

“He’s never come up against you before,” Willow said with a grin. Jasmine’s middle sister was a tenacious Southern woman, with the temper to match her copper-colored hair. Jasmine possessed a core of the same stuff but it only made a quiet appearance when necessary. She wouldn’t scream and cry, but she didn’t give up until every hope had been squashed flat by a steel-toed boot.

She might look like a lady, but she had more strength than most men. The tragedies in her life had demanded it. “Well, I believe I left him with some food for thought.”

“So, you were wearing your blue dress?”

Jasmine frowned. Her sister’s guess hit a little too close to home. “I didn’t wear the dress to entice him. It’s perfectly presentable.”

Her sisters shared a grin. Jasmine tried to let it go. After all, she knew more than most that a little cleavage helped smooth the path she traveled. She’d be a fool not to take advantage of her God-given assets—especially when they’d helped her put both of her little sisters through college—in a completely respectable manner.

“Well, maybe the dress helped a little...” she admitted in a low voice as Auntie stepped into the kitchen with Rosie. The sight of her adopted daughter, and being surrounded by the people who meant the most to her in the world, filled Jasmine’s heart and pushed aside thoughts of today’s tedious meeting.

She reached out for six-month-old Rosie. She was in her snuggly jammies, her skin lavender-scented from her bath. As she settled into Jasmine’s lap, Jasmine breathed deep. “I love you, baby girl,” she whispered against Rosie’s curly black hair.

Then she smiled up at the older woman. “Thank you, Auntie.”

“You’re most welcome,” Auntie said, bending to hug Jasmine and the baby together.

Jasmine would never have made it through the first six months of Rosie’s life without Auntie. Technically, she wasn’t their aunt. She’d been their mother’s nanny when she’d been small. She’d returned to Savannah when their mother hadn’t needed her anymore.

But when the girls’ parents had died, leaving them with no family at a very young age, Auntie had brought them home to Savannah. Jasmine had been a young teen, but her sisters were even younger. Auntie had finished raising them in this house and never once complained. She was as close to a mother as she could get without being a blood relation.

Each of the girls loved her just the same.

Jasmine’s baby sister, Ivy, joined them at the table with a plate of oatmeal cookies Auntie had made while they were all at work that day. “I’ve seen Royce Brazier at some of the meetings of the transportation planning commission, since he owns one of the biggest shipping companies on the East Coast,” she said, her bright blue eyes wide. “He’s pretty hunky.”

Jasmine could practically see every set of ears around the table perk up.

Ivy continued, “But I’ve heard he’s all business, 24/7.”

Jasmine agreed. “He made that very clear.”

Willow pouted. “What’s the fun in that?”

“Dealing with demands is a lot easier when they’re pretty,” Ivy said, with a grimace that still managed to look cute.

Jasmine threw her napkin across the table at her sister, making a sleepy Rosie giggle.

“The last thing I have time for right now is a man,” Jasmine insisted.

Her cell phone gave a quiet chirp, which was the ringtone she used at home so she didn’t accidentally wake the baby. She glanced at the screen. “He certainly is a workaholic,” she mused as she handed Rosie over to her youngest sister. She hadn’t expected to see Royce’s name on the caller ID at this time of night—or at all, really. She’d assumed he would never go for her conditions. Which had made her sad, because she could have used the work. But she had her principles.

She needed to remember that.

“This is Jasmine,” she answered, walking toward the door to the front parlor as her sisters mimed something and Auntie watched them indulgently.

“Brazier here.”

She smiled. I know. “What can I do for you?”

“After careful consideration, I’ve decided to renegotiate our terms, if that’s still possible.”

Interesting. “May I ask why?”

“Well, you certainly have a lot to offer.”

Was she just imagining his voice growing deeper?

He went on. “So I’ll agree to your terms—within reason.”

“Meaning?”

“I’ll attend meetings with the charity and vendors and such, but I’m not decorating rooms or tying bows or stuffing bags. Understood?”

Good thing he couldn’t see her smile. “Feel free to email me your demands and I’ll consider them.”

“You can’t talk now?” he asked.

“Roy—Mr. Brazier. It’s a little late. Almost nine o’clock.” And Rosie would need to go to sleep soon.

“Is your husband impatient for you to get off the phone?”

Okay, no way had she imagined that change in tone. Choosing to ignore his question, because it was fun to keep him guessing, she countered, “Don’t you have a family waiting for you to shut down?”

“No. A man with my schedule shouldn’t have a family—it isn’t fair to them.”

She thought of the little girl in the other room—how sometimes it was hard to force herself out the door in the morning because being away from Rosie left her feeling incomplete. Of course, life hadn’t afforded her the chance to stay home with Rosie—and there were plenty of family members in the house to keep her occupied until Mommy came home. “Commendable of you to realize that.” Though most men usually didn’t think that way.

“Simply practical—but you didn’t answer my question.”

And she didn’t plan to... “Working 24/7 isn’t good for anyone.”

“You enjoy your beauty sleep?”

This conversation was definitely off the business track—her brain derailed into forbidden thoughts of him in her bed. “I’ll watch for your email,” she said, hoping she didn’t sound too breathless.

She disconnected and returned to the other room. Her sisters were silent until she tried to pass, then they started in.

“Oh, Royce,” Ivy said, gasping with an extra dash of drama. “I must, simply must, have your email.”

“Is your wife waiting for you to get off the phone?” Willow teased.

“He asked first,” Jasmine protested.

“Which just gave you permission to dig.”

“It’s a business deal.” Why did she have a feeling she was trying to convince herself?

“It doesn’t have to be,” Auntie said as Jasmine lifted a sleeping Rosie into her arms.

Jasmine lowered her voice. “Not you, too, Auntie.”

“Your mother would not want you to be alone.”

The sisters froze at Auntie’s words. She rarely butted into their personal lives; though she was free with her help and guidance, her one very short marriage hadn’t qualified her to give advice to the lovelorn—according to her. So this was rare.

“I’m not,” Jasmine insisted. “I have you, the girls, Rosie. What do I need a man for?”

“I love the little one, too, and all you girls,” Auntie said. “But you keep yourself tucked away, protected. Your mother, despite everything she lost, still pushed forward and allowed love in. She would want that for all of you.”

Jasmine studied her sisters, who looked at each other slightly abashed. Theirs was a tight circle, and other than casual dates in high school and college, no man had ever infiltrated it. No man had even come home for dinner. And the sisters had always lived together, even through college.

They were their own island oasis. The thought of that changing sent a streak of unease through Jasmine.

As if reading her mind, Auntie nodded at her. “Keeping your circle small is not going to protect you from pain, Jasmine.” She smiled sadly. “It’s time, my sweets.”

“For what?” Willow asked when no one else would.

Jasmine didn’t want to know. Rosie was all the change she could handle in her safe little world. Her only challenges were in her career and she preferred to keep it that way. But when Auntie spoke in that all-knowing voice, things usually happened. Whether anyone wanted them to or not.

The older woman got up and crossed to the door. Jasmine could hear her progress up the stairs and eventually back down in the historic, but sturdy, home. Auntie came straight to Jasmine, leaving her with the feeling she’d been found by an unerringly accurate arrow.

Dropping into the chair next to her, Auntie held out a small jeweler’s box. Willow and Ivy leaned across the table for a better look.

“Your mother wanted you girls to have this,” Auntie said as she opened the box. “I found it with her things, packed away with a letter.”

Inside lay a ring with a teardrop-shaped emerald stone surrounded by decorative gold filigree. They all gasped—Jasmine included. It was an involuntary reflex. The ring was gorgeous. Not only that, it seemed to have something...something special that Jasmine couldn’t quite put her finger on.

“Wait!” Willow said. “I remember Mama wearing that—she said it was an heirloom or something...”

“Indeed,” Auntie confirmed. “It was passed down to her from her mother, who received it from her mother, and so on.”

Jasmine stared at the beautiful jewel, a sudden memory of it on her mother’s hand filling her mind. Her mother had been dressed up. An anniversary dinner, maybe? She and their father hadn’t ever gone to fancy parties and such. About as fancy as it got was her father’s Christmas gathering for the professors at the university where he taught. But she remembered her mother letting her stroke one small finger over the emerald. What had she said?

Then Auntie spoke, “Legend has it—”

Willow squealed. Jasmine groaned. Auntie gave them both an indulgent smile. Willow was the resident myth and legend hunter. She’d truly followed in their father’s footsteps, teaching history at the local community college. She loved tall tales, mysteries and spooky stories. She propped her chin on her palm, avidly awaiting Auntie’s words.

Jasmine just shook her head.

“Legend has it,” Auntie started again, “that this ring was given to the woman who founded your family line by the man she married.”

“Here in Savannah?” Ivy asked.

“Oh, yes. He was a pirate, you see, and she was the beautiful but shy daughter of a prominent family here.”

Jasmine had tried hard to forget that their family had once been wealthy and respected. Long before the scandal that had rocked their safe little world.

Auntie went on. “He didn’t think he had any chance to catch her eye, so he simply admired her from afar. But on his travels, he came into possession of this ring. He was told by the old man he bought it from that the ring would bring the person who owned it true love.”

“Ooh,” Willow said, her grin growing bigger and bigger.

“Sure enough, he was able to win his woman’s hand...and the ring has been passed down to every generation of your family ever since. Each has claimed its power is real.”

Ever the skeptic, Jasmine couldn’t help but add, “And look how that worked for them. Scandals, death. Our family has some of the worst luck ever.”

When Ivy’s hopeful expression fell, it made Jasmine feel like a big bully.

“It’s said to bring its owner true love, not an easy life,” Auntie gently admonished, ever the voice of wisdom. “Besides, if the scandal hadn’t driven your grandparents out of Savannah, then your mother and father might never have met.”

Jasmine didn’t want to disrespect the memory of her parents, but... “A ring did not cause them to find each other—being in the same place at the same time did.”

“Maybe so—”

“Don’t be a realist, Jasmine,” Willow complained. “Embrace the magic.”

Ivy reached over to take the sleeping baby and snuggled her close. Rosie gave a shuddering sigh. “Is it really healthy to teach Rosie that there’s no magic, no romance in the world?”

“She’s only six months old,” Jasmine protested. “Besides, I didn’t say that—” Jasmine created magic every day with her events, or rather, the feeling of magic.

Willow added her two cents’ worth, even though Jasmine considered her biased. “Yeah, Jasmine, haven’t you ever heard of Cinderella? Rapunzel? Beauty? Wendy? Dorothy?”

“You want me to convince Rosie there’s magic in the world by indulging this nonsense and snaring a man?”

“No—the man is just a bonus,” Ivy said with a giggle.

“An uptight CEO?” Jasmine couldn’t believe she was hearing this.

Ivy wasn’t deterred. “The uptight CEO with thick hair, muscular build and a tight a—”

Willow gasped and covered the sleeping baby’s ears. “Ivy!”

Ivy grimaced. “But yes—that is a bonus. You just need to sweeten him up a little.”

“For Rosie?”

“Yes!” her sisters said in unison.

“She needs a man around,” Ivy went on. “After all, we didn’t have one. How can we possibly teach her anything about men?”

They all paused, silently weighing the loss of their father. The only man they could remember being part of their family...and that was a long, long time ago.

Auntie finally weighed in. “She’s already going to hear enough reality when she gets older and learns what happened to her birth mother,” she reminded Jasmine with a sad look.

“Or are you just afraid the ring will actually work?” Willow jumped in.

Was she? Jasmine secretly admitted that all the loss she’d suffered in her young life made her reluctant to let someone else in. Only dire circumstances had brought Rosie to her. Jasmine had adopted her as a newborn at the behest of the little girl’s dying mother. A woman Jasmine had come to know at the City Sanctuary mission where she’d volunteered—and then lost when Rosie’s mother succumbed to the cancer she’d never been able to afford to have treated properly.

“The ring is for all of you girls, but I think Jasmine has a unique opportunity here to prove her point...or ours.” Auntie held out the ring box once more, smiling as if she understood Jasmine’s dilemma all too well. “A little magic never hurt anyone,” she said.

Somehow, Jasmine didn’t believe that.