Читать книгу Desire September 2017 Books 1 -4 - Yvonne Lindsay - Страница 18

Nine

“I really don’t see why we need to do this,” Royce said as Jasmine approached over the cracked and broken sidewalk. “It’s not necessary.”

And here she thought she’d loosened him up a little. Especially after the surprisingly personal meeting at the coffee shop a few days ago. Of course, the way he’d conceded the design choices with a curt “You know better than I” should have reminded her he didn’t want a say in everything.

“It’s not necessary to educate yourself about the charity you are promoting with your big-ticket event?”

“I told you the charity was your choice.”

She could just get right to the point, but why not enjoy teasing him for a minute? “What’s the big deal? So you spend a few hours down here on a Saturday. What else are you gonna do? Work?”

They shared a look, his blue eyes narrowing as if he was contemplating retribution for her sarcasm.

“Just consider this part of your job,” she said. “Trust me, I’ve been to dozens of these charity events. You’re gonna get asked lots of questions about City Sanctuary mission. Do you want to appear ignorant?”

“I could refer them to you.”

“And still appear ignorant. Especially to the Jeffersons.”

He grimaced, probably because he knew she was right. “It should be enough that I’m donating money.”

“Don’t sulk, Scrooge. You just might enjoy yourself.”

His eyes widened just a notch at her tone, but she ignored it and headed for the entrance. The parking area was hidden from view of the building by a tall retaining wall that supported the elevated ground the original church had been built upon. Excitement filled her as they made their way to the break in the wall for the stairs leading to the lawn. There she caught the first glimpse of the ancient stone chapel. Though the additions made to the compound over the years didn’t entirely match the architecture of the original building, which had stood since just a few decades after Savannah was founded, they didn’t detract from the atmosphere, either.

Jasmine followed the gravel path with ease, having developed a familiarity with the place after years of volunteering here. She greeted the regulars as they passed.

She’d always felt safe here. The mission’s destitute clients had never scared her. She’d experienced more fear among Savannah’s elite, to be honest.

Everyone she greeted along the way to the entrance followed the same pattern: a smile and hello for her, then a quick suspicious glance at the man behind her. Strangers to the mission were often regarded that way, at first, but this was probably enhanced because she’d never been here with a man. Usually she was alone; only occasionally did she visit with her sisters.

They entered through the main registration lobby, where Jasmine paused. “This is the area where most public traffic comes in,” she said. “Overnight guests are assigned their spaces, and those who need other services are directed to the areas or personnel they need.”

She waved to the couple who usually handled the front lobby on Saturdays, then led Royce to the first large hallway. “The building was originally a church, and has been added to over the years. This makes it a little confusing for newcomers.” She gestured to the left. “There are offices down here. A couple of classrooms where we hold seminars or tutoring. And there’s a closet at the far end where we store used clothing to hand out.”

After giving him a minute to process, she turned right. “The main dining area is at the back. I’ll take you there in a little while. It was the most recent area to be updated, because part of it collapsed during the last hurricane that came through. A tree fell on it, so we had to do some structural repairs.”

They stepped through a set of double doors into a gymnasium with a scuffed but decent floor. Royce, who had been silent the whole time, took in the group of children playing basketball. “This looks nice.”

“It is—we use it for some after-school programs and there’s actually a men’s basketball group that meets here. Anyone in the building is allowed to participate.” She nodded toward the far corner. “But here’s the problem. This room has to serve double duty.”

“Are those beds?”

“Foldaway cots. We have a women’s dorm in the back, which has a leaking roof. The old chapel serves to shelter small family units when necessary. This is the men’s dorm. So every night we have to pull the beds out onto the floor and every morning they are stripped and put away.”

“That’s a lot of work,” he murmured.

“It is.” She took a deep breath, almost afraid to share her hopes for the fund-raising event. “The neighbors here were an elderly couple and they gifted their land to the mission upon their deaths. But there aren’t any funds to build on it.” She met his solemn gaze. “A fully functioning building with single-purpose sleeping quarters would make a big difference in this part of Savannah.”

“Miss Harden! Watch this!”

Jasmine glanced over as one of her little tagalongs, Oliver, jumped toward the basketball net. At five, he wasn’t tall enough to make headway, but he had enough enthusiasm to make his jump impressive. “Great job!” she yelled back.

He dribbled the ball over to them, showing off his skills. “Look what I learned to do.” He grabbed the ball up and rolled it across his outstretched arms and along the back of his neck.

Jasmine laughed. “Well, that’s pretty cool. But how is it gonna help you play basketball?”

“Mr. Mike said it will help me learn dex—um, dexter—”

“Dexterity?” Royce offered.

“That was it.”

“I see,” Jasmine said. “You are well on your way to being a professional ball player, in my opinion.”

The little boy stopped moving and gave her a cheeky grin. “Didn’t you say you don’t know anything about basketball?”

She brushed her knuckles against his cheek. “That’s true. But I know determination when I see it, and you have tons of that, my sweet.”

He giggled, then dribbled the ball back toward the court. She smiled after him. “He’s such a cutie. His mama named him Oliver after a cocky, sneaky cat in a cartoon. I have a feeling he’s gonna live up to the name.”

Instead of a chuckle, Royce said, “My mother named me after my father’s car.”

She swiveled to face him. “What?”

“My father’s Rolls Royce. He told her the only thing he’d ever loved was his car. Guess it was some kind of dig to remind him that a kid deserved love, too. Didn’t work so well.”

“Or maybe it was to remind her that she got the better end of that deal.”

“What do you mean?”

“Cars don’t give an awful lot of love in return, Royce.”

* * *

As they turned back toward the main building, Jasmine spouted facts about the various aspects of the homeless mission’s programs. Royce wasn’t tracking. Her words from the gym kept ringing in his ears. He couldn’t help but wonder—were they true?

“Jasmine, ma fleur. So wonderful to see you.”

Royce forced himself to tune in as they were approached by a man in khaki pants and a polo shirt. Jasmine introduced him as Francis Staten, the director of the mission.

“So wonderful to meet you,” Francis said with a firm handshake that matched his calm, competent expression. “We are so grateful for what you are doing for us.”

Royce was having none of that. “You know I can’t take the credit. Jasmine is the one who brought the need to my attention.”

Francis smiled. “And you must know that with her running your event, it will be very successful.”

“That’s my sincere belief, also,” Royce agreed.

Francis gave an appreciative chuckle. “Before she combusts from that blush, shall I show you around?”

Jasmine smiled in a sheepish way. “Well, we’ve already looked over the gym, front offices and lobby.”

“Excitement got the better of you, huh?” Francis asked as they headed farther down the hallway toward the back of the building. “I’ve never had a more enthusiastic volunteer than Jasmine here. She was such a sad girl when she first came to us, and she has become the mission’s biggest asset.”

“All of our volunteers are,” Jasmine insisted.

That blush sure was cute.

As they crossed through a large double doorway into a spacious banquet room, Francis explained, “This is our main dining area, with industrial kitchens on the other side of those serving tables. The kitchens were refurbished by a major pledge drive. We serve hundreds of meals per day. The kitchen updates made it so much easier to keep the food fresh, hot and plentiful.”

The long room was broken up by rows of tables and chairs. Only about a third of them were occupied at this time on a Saturday. “We’ll start serving lunch soon,” Francis said.

A lady sitting at the first table with a group of her friends called out to Jasmine and waved. With a smile, Jasmine excused herself to go over to them. Royce and Francis watched as she hugged each woman in the small group.

“She’s incredible,” Francis said. “A young woman who lives her beliefs, rather than simply talking about them.”

He glanced over at Royce, lowering his voice a touch. “Have you met Rosie?”

Royce nodded. His stomach flipped as he imagined Rosie in this environment. Her birth mother had been a frequent guest here, so Rosie would have grown up with no stable, secure home base. “She’s a beautiful little girl,” he murmured. “It’s hard to tell she was adopted.”

“Indeed,” Francis agreed. “Jasmine had known Rosie’s mother for several years. One thing you learn very quickly here—you can’t force your own beliefs or preferences on those who aren’t as fortunate. You can only offer them whatever you have. Some are on the streets because life has given them no other choices. Some are there because it is safer or more comfortable for them than the places they left behind.”

“Was she very young?” Royce asked.

“Twenty-six when she died.”

Royce couldn’t bring himself to ask the obvious question.

“She confided in Jasmine one night. She wanted so badly to have the child, but knew her health wasn’t all it should be. It took her a lot of courage to go to the doctor. By then, the cancer was too far advanced for treatment, even if they could have done anything while she was pregnant. When Jasmine offered to take her in, she agreed with great reluctance. She’d been on the streets so long, but she knew she had to overcome her fears for her baby to live.”

“So she lived with Jasmine’s family before the birth?”

“And after,” Francis confirmed. “Her health declined rapidly. But she was smart enough to make sure Rosie wouldn’t end up on the streets. They’d barely finished the adoption process before she died.”

Jasmine glanced their way. Her smile here had a different, softer quality. Instead of the take-charge woman he’d butted heads with, in this environment, her leadership abilities seemed to be subdued under a layer of compassion.

Francis cleared his throat, reengaging Royce’s attention. “All that to say, Jasmine has volunteered here for years, but she’s also changed her entire life to take care of someone in need. There’s no doubt she loves Rosie. Her entire family loves her. But it was, and is, a huge sacrifice in one so young.”

“Why are you telling me this?” Royce asked. After all, this was technically a business meeting.

Francis studied him for a long moment, a slight smile on his face. “Call it intuition or the prompting of the Spirit, but something tells me you need to know. Even if Jasmine is just your event planner.”

Why did that last statement sound more like a question to Royce? And why was he trying to fool himself into thinking he wasn’t interested?

“What about the children here?” Royce asked, eager to change the subject. He thought back to the boys in the gym. He hadn’t failed to notice the worn lettering on their clothes and thinness of the soles on their shoes—and remembered the years that his own clothes had looked the same. “Is there anything special they need?”

“Right now, just the usual things that they always need. We have families who fund scholarships for some of our regulars in the after-school programs for disadvantaged families. Those scholarships and donors are coordinated by the Jefferson family from Savannah.”

The Jeffersons. Instead of filing that detail away to use to his own advantage, Royce felt gratitude wash over him. They were doing so much for these kids. How much of a difference would it have made to him, to his mother, if he’d had the opportunity to participate in an after-school program like they offered here?

“We do have some other special programs we would love funding for, but I don’t want to appear greedy.”

Royce waved away his words. “It’s not greedy when I asked. I’ll have my assistant contact you for more information, okay?”

Francis nodded. “Thank you again.”

“It’s my pleasure.” And Royce had a feeling he was going to have to admit to Jasmine that he’d changed his point of view. He wanted to be more involved in this charity event now. That had probably been her whole point in bringing him here: educating him for far more than just being able to talk knowledgably about his event’s charity.

She’d done a thorough job of it, too.

Sure enough, they’d barely made it to the sidewalk in front of the cars when she paused and said, “Not as bad as you thought, was it?”

He turned to face her where she leaned against the moss-covered retaining wall. “You enjoy being right, don’t you.”

“Only with you.” She grinned, her sassy joy drawing him out of his shell and into the sheer life she exuded. He found he was beginning to like her energy and enthusiasm—very much.

He shook his head, knowing he was going crazy. But for once, he didn’t care about losing control. “You’re incredible, you know?”

“Not really.”

Royce leaned in close, propping one hand against the wall next to her glossy black hair. He swallowed hard against the emotions welling up despite himself. “To prove to my father that my life was worth something, I pursued wealth that would far surpass his.”

For the first time, he let himself reach over and touch her thick hair. “To prove that life was still worth living after your parents died, you dedicated yourself to your family and taking care of others.”

He stepped closer, bringing their bodies together even though he knew he shouldn’t. “In the eyes of most people, that’s incredible. Especially me.”

Then Royce let his logical brain take a hike and brought his lips down on hers. Her taste was just as exotic as her name. Royce’s craving shifted into overdrive.

If he’d thought it would just be a quick peck, he was mistaken. Instead, his body pressed closer. His mouth opened over hers. Her lips left a slightly sweet taste on his tongue, but it was the heat inside that he sought.

The catch of her breath sent a streak of sensation through him. He wanted to explore all the ways he could make her react. All the hidden places on her body that would make her gasp and moan. But for now, he focused on the heat of her mouth and the sexiness of her response.

After long, exquisite moments, Royce forced himself to pull back. To regain control. To think about Jasmine instead of his own sorry self.

Which meant he couldn’t bring himself to look into those gorgeous blue eyes to see exactly how he’d ruined everything.