Читать книгу Desire September 2017 Books 1 -4 - Yvonne Lindsay - Страница 13

Four

He’d thought about not showing up at all.

Staring up at the austere lines of the museum Jasmine had chosen as a possible venue, he wished he had ditched their meeting. But standing her up again was not a good option. She’d taught him that much.

Besides, his mama would have considered it ungentlemanly to simply ditch her—even if memories of his mama were what made him not want to show up at the museum in the first place.

But he had to stand firm. Today, he would take back the reins because he would not hold his event in a building he could no longer set foot in—much less play host in for an evening.

He was still staring at the building when Jasmine pulled up beside him in a pristine compact sedan. After climbing out, she smiled at him.

“Well, look at you,” she said, her voice as teasing as it had been that first night on the phone when he’d called her. He didn’t like to acknowledge the tingles of anticipation that hit him when he heard it—which were just as strong this morning as they had been then.

“I was a little unsure that you’d actually show up,” she went on, “much less arrive early.”

The tingle of anticipation grew, only this time it was for the challenge he knew was ahead of him. Still he struggled to keep any emotion from his expression.

“There’s no point in going inside,” he said, letting his tone match what he hoped was his deadpan expression.

Her frown as she shut the door and walked around the front of her car warned him that she was thinking hard about this turn of events. “May I ask why?”

“We aren’t having my event here.”

She glanced back over her shoulder at the building behind her, the multiple columns majestically holding up the austere gabled roof with its carved marble depiction of birds. When she turned to him, confusion reigned in those gorgeous blue eyes. “Again, may I ask why?”

“I don’t want it here.” And he didn’t. No need for discussion about his troubled childhood or dead mother. “Personal reasons.”

“Are they good enough reasons?” she asked, tossing her hair over her shoulder.

“It is when I’m signing the checks.”

Her expression told him she wanted to be offended, even when she knew he was right. But she wasn’t simply accepting his decree. “I thought you didn’t want to be involved in the decisions?” she demanded.

This wasn’t the same as dealing with any of his other business associates. When they slapped their hands to their hips, he never noticed the sway of their breasts. He shouldn’t be noticing Jasmine’s now, but somehow he couldn’t help himself.

“And you said you wanted me to be involved in making the decisions,” he reminded her. “Which is it?”

That little intake of air pushed her breasts out just a touch more. Heaven help him.

She nodded. He could tell she wanted further explanation. He wasn’t giving it.

Finally she turned away, giving him a break from that penetrating gaze. “Let me go touch base with the manager,” she said. “I need to stay on good terms here.”

“Of course.”

“Then we’ll talk,” she warned. Her heels clicked on the sidewalk as she strode away.

He waited until she went inside the museum before pulling out his phone. “Hey, Joseph,” he said when his construction manager picked up. “How are things looking today?”

Joseph filled him in on the details of the kitchen installation at Royce’s supersecret project, as well as other aspects of the restoration.

“Another day on track,” Joseph confirmed.

“Good.”

Royce hung up, a spur-of-the-moment idea buzzing in his brain. He had the lucky ability to run through all the immediate pros and cons of a decision in a relatively short amount of time. This had helped him jump on opportunities that other businesses spent months preparing for. Along with his intense drive, he’d used this to build his business to magnificent proportions at a very young age.

Today this ability would certainly come in handy.

He waited until Jasmine returned down the walk fifteen minutes later. His relief at finally being able to leave the site of one of his most traumatic childhood experiences was tempered with his desire to covertly take her in.

Jasmine seemed to enjoy ultrafeminine clothing. Even when she’d had the baby with her, she’d been wearing a women’s business suit with a skirt and an undershirt with lace lining the deep V of the collar. Today, the bodice of her navy dress hugged curves that he normally wouldn’t notice. But on her they made his mouth water. An inverted triangle cut out over her cleavage added to the effect. The flowing skirt that ended right below her knees revealed just enough of her legs to be tantalizing.

Was she trying to torture him?

“All done,” she said as she approached. “What now?”

Oh, she was gonna love this. “I have an alternative. Let’s go.”

“Now?” Her frown was back.

“No time like the present. I’ll drive.”

But as they settled into the small space of his luxury sedan and the dark, sexy scent of her snuck up on him, he had to wonder whether he had made a wise choice.

Or was this self-sabotage?

* * *

Of all the things Jasmine had expected to do today, riding in the front seat of Royce’s car was not one of them. The smooth, heavy scent of well-cared-for leather and a slight hint of aftershave teased her senses, making her notice things she wished she didn’t.

This is business. This is business.

“Why don’t you have a driver?” she asked, letting the first question that occurred to her pop out in an awkward attempt at conversation.

He glanced her way before returning his attention to the road. “That’s a rather pretentious question, don’t you think?”

“Actually it’s simple curiosity that springs from experience,” she corrected. “I’ve worked with a lot of Savannah’s upper class. Most have their own drivers—at least, under certain circumstances.”

The road was familiar to her from having lived in Savannah since she was fifteen years old. Though a lot of fine old houses could be found in the surrounding areas, she couldn’t think of any in this particular direction. Where was he taking her?

She tempered her curiosity with more questions about his driverless state. If she had to be thrown off her game plan for the morning, at least she could work toward finding the human behind the robot. “You’re the youngest billionaire in Savannah,” she reminded him. “Heck, the entire South. Doesn’t a driver come with that title?”

“That title came with a lot of hard work. Besides, I love to drive.”

“So you’re human?”

His locked-down tone surprised her. “More than you know.”

Great. Her curiosity was growing like an overinflated balloon. Pretty soon she might explode from it—but that was better than drooling over his blond good looks.

“Why won’t you share those personal reasons with me?”

She wasn’t sure why she asked. Maybe to get herself away from her attraction to Royce. Maybe to dig deeper into the mysteries she had begun to see. If she hadn’t been watching his face, she’d have missed the flicker of surprise that appeared on his expression before he shut back down.

“I told you, I don’t want to talk about it.”

He had, but that wouldn’t stop her from trying. “Sometimes it helps.”

“Not true.”

Stubborn man. “Have you ever even tried?” She suspected not, considering that he seemed like the all-business-all-the-time type.

She could tell her question annoyed him by the way he tightened his hands on the steering wheel. “We’re almost there,” he said, instead of answering.

Fine.

Then Jasmine looked around, realizing exactly how far out of town they were. Uneasiness started to grow deep inside. “You realize that the farther we are from town, the less likely people are to attend the event, right?”

“Oh, they’ll show up for this.”

His confident tone didn’t turn her into a believer—after all, she was the expert in this business.

The minute he turned down a particular driveway, her fears were confirmed. She’d only been down this driveway once. A very long time ago, and only by accident. Later when she’d started researching the place, she’d realized what it was. They could not have their event here.

“Royce, no.” Her grip on the seat tightened as tension took hold of her. “We can’t do this here. Do you know how long Keller House has been empty?”

“It was empty for over twenty years,” he said. “The carriage house has been occupied for five years. It’s currently the home of the caretaker.”

Okay, so maybe she didn’t know everything. “But the main house must be in need of hundreds of thousands of dollars of renovations.”

“Four hundred thousand in renovations, to be exact,” Royce said. She swore she could hear a smirk in his voice. “And that doesn’t include the back gardens, which can’t be started on until closer to spring.”

She eyed him suspiciously as he pulled the car to a halt before the front steps. He looked back with perfect calm, so she turned her attention to the house. The massive gray stone building seemed sad and silent from where she sat. “And how do you know that, Royce?”

He ignored her as he exited the vehicle. She stared up at the imposing edifice, waiting for him to come around to open her door. When he did, she got out and stood in the space between the door and the car to look him straight in the eye.

“I can’t oversee renovations while I’m doing an event,” she said. “And what owner in the middle of renovations would want an event here?”

“No, the renovations are my job. The event is yours,” he said, enunciating clearly. “Just get out of the car.”

I’ve gone from dealing with a difficult boss to biting off more than I can chew. Jasmine stepped away from the car and stood before the mammoth building. It was gorgeous, even in its rundown state. Ivy climbed up one corner. Though cracked in a few places, the gray stone still lent a majesty to the structure. Even the steps were made of it. She could imagine women walking up them in huge hoop skirts on their way to a ball here.

“I’ve always been curious about this place,” she said. “My sister, who is a big history buff, says that the Kellers used to be the most prominent family in Savannah. Their house was detailed in many newspaper accounts and gossip columns throughout the years. But then the entire family was wiped out by smallpox.”

“Shall we go inside?” he asked.

She met his gaze. “You’re serious about this?”

“I am. We will hold the masquerade here.”

She glanced between him and the house that hadn’t been a home to anyone in a long time. He’d gone from uninvolved to highly involved more quickly than she could wrap her brain around. “So you are a bit of a philanthropist,” she said.

“No. Real estate is a good investment.”

But as he turned away she glimpsed something in his expression. Something he probably didn’t want her to see. She had a feeling that like the building before her, he was hiding an awful lot behind that facade of his.