ТОП просматриваемых книг сайта:
.
Читать онлайн.
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