Читать книгу Desire September 2017 Books 1 -4 - Yvonne Lindsay - Страница 14

Five

Just a quick walk through to see the current state of renovations, let Jasmine take a quick peek and then they’d head back to the city. That was Royce’s plan, and, by damn, he was sticking to it this time.

But it wasn’t helping that he found her caution amusing as she stepped through the massive antique double doors. Clearly, she expected the inside of Keller House to be a disaster.

Granted, the exterior still needed work, but there was plenty of time to get to that. The exterior would be a years-long project, just as the inside had been. And the craggy, cracked surface had character that Royce kind of enjoyed.

The wonder on her face as she took in the already renovated foyer made his heart speed up. Royce quickly looked away. No distractions. Focus. He had a feeling her enthusiasm, in addition to being attractive, would be infectious.

But he was here for business.

As per his usual MO, he mentally identified what he needed to do. Then he started purposefully down the main hallway that cut the house virtually in half. The kitchen lay at the other end, which was where he hoped to find his construction crew hard at work.

“Wow! Is this staircase the original? Or a reproduction?”

Royce froze. “It’s the original,” he conceded, then moved a few more steps. Maybe if he kept moving, she would follow.

Her gorgeous blue eyes were roving up and down the magnificent two-story structure. “It’s beautiful,” she breathed. “Who did the renovations?”

He took a few more steps, even though she hadn’t budged. “Jasmine, I don’t have much time to get this done, so if we could move on—”

She nodded and moved to follow, though her gaze stayed glued to the refinished mahogany and blue tile patterns along the edges of the steps. He turned away and picked up speed. His brain started to produce a list of all the things he needed to discuss with the foreman.

“All these tiles...are they Italian?”

Royce heard the question but kept moving.

At first he thought he heard her following, but then the footsteps stopped and her voice sounded farther away. Royce paused, glancing over his shoulder. No Jasmine in sight. Then he realized what room she had disappeared into.

The ballroom. Of course that would interest her.

The urgent pull of business needled him to keep going. She could explore while he got things done. Problem solved. But there was also the worry that she would wander somewhere that she could get hurt. Not all the rooms were finished. Since they hadn’t been expecting company, the dangerous areas weren’t necessarily marked.

Then there was the question of her excitement and how he wanted to read it in her expression as she explored. He shouldn’t care. The fact that he was even thinking about this meant he should keep going. Instead his steps took him back toward the open doorway.

The ballroom walls had been carefully stripped of ancient wallpaper to reveal intricate painted murals. They’d decided to clean and preserve them as is, rather than recreating them. Wear and tear showed in spots, but it was the kind of damage that one would find in an antique museum piece. It simply added to the charm. The crown molding surrounding the windows, murals and chandelier bases had been stripped and refinished in an off white. Eggshell, his mother had called it.

The elaborate crystal chandeliers had been refinished and rewired. The wood floor had been stripped of decades of dirt and grime and was waiting to be stained and protected with a thick coat of polyurethane. There was still a series of mirrors waiting to be hung.

The room was a showpiece in and of itself.

Jasmine twirled slowly in the center, taking in all the delights. She stopped as she came to face him. Some of his indecision must have come across as irritation in his expression, because her eyes widened for a moment.

Then a grin that could only be classified as cute spread across her face. “I can’t help it,” she said. “I need to see what I’m gonna have to work with.”

“So you do approve?”

The expression he’d come to associate with her trying to figure out a way around him made a quick appearance. “Possibly.” She turned away. The skirt of her dress swirled with her movements, giving him another glance at sculpted calves and pretty ankles. Didn’t the woman ever wear pants?

“But I will need to see more before we know for sure.”

Vixen. The minute the word crossed his mind, Royce had second thoughts. After all, he’d never thought about any of the other women he worked with, now or in the past, in such a way. It was surely inappropriate. But completely and totally true.

Jasmine knew exactly what she was doing—keeping him on his toes.

Resigning himself, he gestured for her to continue down the hall. “Everything else on this floor has been completed, except the kitchens.” He hoped. “That’s what I need to check on today.”

As they made their way down the hall, he opened various doors. She got to explore. He got to maintain forward momentum. Win-win.

Only every peek into a room elicited the same excitement as a child opening presents on Christmas morning. The first gasps jumpstarted his heart, even though he tried to ignore them—and his physical reaction.

“Are these fixtures original?” she asked.

He nodded, warming to one of his favorite subjects outside of business. He and his mother had had two things in common—antiques and cooking. Their shared interests had strengthened their bond.

“All of the fixtures are original, unless they were broken beyond repair. Some of the back rooms had busted windows and weather damage, so we had to do some extensive replacements there. Everywhere else, I had what I could refinished. Some of the electrical components had to be updated. But the feel of the original should be maintained wherever possible—”

He noticed her watching him and felt a moment of unfamiliar self-consciousness. “In my opinion,” he added. An opinion he had only shared with his contractor and his mother when she was still alive. Not only was it no one else’s business, Royce had always found himself extremely protective of projects that he was full-on enthusiastic about.

Projects that sparked his creativity and drive, instead of the logical side of his brain. Only certain people who shared that drive were let in. He wasn’t ready to let Jasmine in. These softening tendencies she inspired in him made keeping things strictly business with her an absolute must.

After what seemed like hours, they finally made it to the kitchen. Jasmine took herself off to pepper the workers with questions while Royce checked in with the foreman. He almost laughed at how short and to the point their discussion was, compared to the last hour with Jasmine. He had a feeling he would hole up in his office when he got back and communicate only by email. He’d used up his allotment of spoken words for the day.

It wasn’t until they were on their way back out that Royce’s relief was busted.

Jasmine’s frequent glances warned him something was up. It didn’t take her long to get to the point.

“One of the workers said your mother lived here.”

Ah. Well, it wasn’t like he’d told them to keep it a secret. “Yes. She lived in the carriage house for a few years before she died.”

“I’m so sorry.”

Royce just kept walking. He didn’t want to get into how much he missed his mother, or how he hadn’t felt he’d done everything he could for her before she died. There wasn’t much point to those types of conversations.

“Was she interested in the renovations?”

Maybe they weren’t done with this subject. “She definitely was. I bought the property for her, and she helped plan every facet of the renovations before she passed away. She was a history and museum buff.”

“My sister loves history, too. She teaches it at the community college. She’s the one who told me about this place.”

The personal nature of the conversation set off alarms in his brain, but his sudden desire to talk to someone who understood the house and his love of it overrode his caution. “We discussed everything about the direction of the renovations. How much to save. How much to gut and start over on. She loved every minute of it.”

He could almost feel Jasmine’s warm gaze on his face. Then she said, “I bet she did. That must have been a wonderful thing for her.”

He shrugged. “It was the least I could offer her. She was a single mother my entire life. She sacrificed more than any woman should. To make her comfortable and happy was a small gift in comparison.”

He remembered watching Jasmine with her daughter, and how it had given rise to the uncomfortable memories of his own childhood. He’d told the truth. His mother had sacrificed a lot. So had he. Which had fostered his attitude on single mothers and the workplace.

As they walked back down the front steps, the burning question Royce had ignored for days finally surfaced. “Jasmine, do you regret being a single mother?”

She halted abruptly. The gorgeous, expressive face he’d been surreptitiously watching all morning shut down. He should have known—should have kept his mouth shut. Reason number two that he avoided social gatherings...he wasn’t great at handling casual conversation.

Then her words hit him like bullets. “Never,” she said. As she turned away, she added, “Without me, she’d have no one at all.”

* * *

Jasmine sprinted around the corner of her regular event photographer’s house, groaning when she saw Royce sitting in his car at the curb. She’d had her sister drop her off at the side of Dominic’s, hoping she wouldn’t have to explain how her morning had gone. The last thing she wanted to get into was why she’d needed a ride here instead of driving herself. Of course, the fact that she was fifteen minutes late and running in her heels probably raised eyebrows.

At least she’d texted Royce and Dominic to let them know she was running behind.

She took a few seconds to straighten her dress as Royce climbed out of his sleek car. The chaos of the morning made it a little harder to pull on her professional demeanor. She would blame that on the difficult circumstances rather than the effect every meeting with this man had on her.

Regardless, it didn’t bode well for being in close proximity with Royce this morning.

Hopefully her smile wasn’t strained enough to show the lack of sleep and worry. Rosie was teething again, so she hadn’t slept well. Then Jasmine had worried about leaving her with Auntie when she knew her daughter would be more than a handful. And then...she’d gone out to find her car dead as a doornail.

Her frustration levels were maxed out.

She thought she’d masked her feelings pretty well, but Royce’s double take as he approached her told her otherwise. For once, she prayed he’d stick to his strictly business MO. Even if she’d felt inclined to share her situation, his attitude about single mothers and the workplace gave her pause.

Instead, she tried to concentrate on the bright sunshine in hopes it would chase away her worries and gloom. Other than a brief good morning, she remained silent as they waited for Dominic to answer the bell. Unfortunately, the one day she wished Royce would stick to his robot impersonation, he had to deviate from the norm.

“Everything okay?” he asked.

This must be payback of some sort for her nosiness...

“Yes.” She knew her tone would give away that she was lying.

“You seem upset.”

Lord, why did she have to have such an expressive face? Why couldn’t she just hide behind a stone facade? Of course, that was against her nature and normal method of dealing with clients. She liked being on friendly terms and being perceived as approachable. Which was why everything about her business interactions with Royce had felt wrong.

Fortunately Dominic opened the door of the house before she had to respond to Royce. The photographer’s enthusiastic bear hug covered a lot of her strain and helped her regain her equilibrium. She’d worked with Dominic a lot over the last few years. His sheer size made clients think twice about hiring him—he looked more like a bouncer at a bar than an artist—until they saw his portfolio.

He had an ability to showcase emotion in an image that was sheer genius.

His handshake with Royce was firm but not a masculine attempt to dominate. He held the door open for them to enter the historic slate-gray and white Victorian cottage that served as his office, as well as the home that he shared with his partner, Greg.

“I’m so sorry that I was late,” Jasmine said, taking a deep breath and noticing the intoxicating scent of baking cookies.

“No problem,” Dominic said, always easygoing. In all the time she’d known him, she’d never seen him angry, even when dealing with some pretty demanding clients.

“Dang, Greg must be cooking,” she teased. “I could gain weight just breathing.” Greg was a baker who created incredible cookies and meringues in the industrial kitchen at the back of the house.

“We try,” Dominic said with a wink before leading them into a nearby office. “He probably chose what to make the minute he knew you were coming over. A little sugar for our Sugar.”

“He knows me well.”

Just following Dominic deeper into the house helped Jasmine relax a little bit more. She’d never been the corporate office type. Her one venture into cubicle-land had convinced her it was the ninth circle of hell. Dominic’s office echoed her own, though they were two totally different styles. His was comfortable, with masculine elements of leather, grommets, wrought iron. Hers was everything fluffy and feathery. But both were designed to be lived in, played in.

Which just made the work more fun.

“So, tell me a little about what you’re aiming for,” Dominic said, leading them to a round table in one corner.

“That would be Jasmine’s department,” Royce said as he held out a chair for her.

Royce might be all business, but his mama had obviously made sure he was a gentleman.

Dominic tossed Jasmine a brief glance, but she could read a wealth of questions in the look. Like, what was this guy doing here if he wasn’t doing the talking? But she didn’t want to get into that right now.

“We’re planning a masquerade event,” she said.

The light in Dominic’s eyes told her he was on board already.

“But we don’t want just your traditional ball,” she added. “We’re also looking for other options for entertainment. I was thinking about that photo booth you set up for St. Anne’s.”

“A photo booth?” Royce asked, the doubt clear in his tone.

“Oh, it isn’t your normal photo booth,” Jasmine assured him.

Dominic eagerly reached for one of the large photo albums on the table. “Check it out.”

He turned the pages slowly, giving them a chance to study the various options. “We created a background unique to the event and brought in props for the guests to use.” He pointed to a group of people in a rowboat in front of a mural of a lake with a decorative bridge over it.

“I was thinking a mysterious castle,” Jasmine offered.

The men batted ideas around for a minute. Against her hip, Jasmine felt her phone buzz. Since her family knew she didn’t answer during meetings, she assumed it was a client and ignored it for the moment. When the buzzing started again after a few minutes, she stiffened, all her earlier tension returning.

Trying to brush it aside, she tossed out some more ideas. But the third buzz was her undoing. Slipping the phone from her pocket, she glanced at the screen. Two missed phone calls and a text from her sister Ivy.

911

She looked up to find both men watching her. Her smile was probably strained but she offered it anyway as she stood. “If you could excuse me just a moment, gentlemen?”

“Nothing wrong with that beautiful baby, I hope?” Dominic asked.

Seeing Royce’s back straighten both unnerved her and ticked her off. “I certainly hope not,” she said, unhappy with the quaver that had entered her voice.

But she wasn’t backing down. She didn’t know what his beef was with single mothers and families, but it wasn’t her problem. There was no denying she wasn’t a perfect mother. She had no delusions about that. The learning curve of the last six months had been steep. Still, she’d go above and beyond for Rosie and the rest of her family.

Family was the one thing that came before her clients, regardless of what they thought.

As she stepped back out to the porch, she prayed it was something like another stalled car or a burst water pipe. Things were replaceable. People weren’t. Now that Rosie was a part of their lives, she simply couldn’t imagine it any other way.

“Ivy?” she asked as her youngest sister answered the phone. “What’s wrong?”

“I need you quick,” Ivy said, her voice trembling and breathless. “I’m at Savannah General.”

Jasmine’s heart thudded in her ears, cutting off Ivy’s voice. The hospital? So much for her day getting easier.