Desire September 2017 Books 1 -4. Yvonne Lindsay
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baby gates. She’ll be into everything, as curious as she is.”
“How do you know?” Royce asked.
Dominic puffed his chest out. “Proud, loving uncle to five nieces and nephews.”
“Five?” Royce’s surprise amused Jasmine.
“That’s right,” Dominic confirmed. “Five. And this little cutie is gonna be a handful. I guarantee it.”
“I’d rather you didn’t,” Jasmine warned.
Despite her concern, Jasmine felt the glow of maternal pride. It was still fairly new, though less tentative than when Rosie had been a newborn. It had taken a while to give herself permission to feel it, to embrace it. Even though she’d legally been Rosie’s mother from day one, it had taken time for her to grow into the role. She’d shared the daily responsibilities with Rosie’s biological mother until she hadn’t been able to help anymore. Her health had gone downhill rapidly after Rosie’s birth. Her death had thrown Jasmine headlong into the reality of being responsible for such a small being’s life.
Dominic winked. “Oh, before you know it, she’ll be standing beside you at events like this in her own ball gowns.”
Jasmine was shaking her head before he even finished, the words causing a distant panic to mix in with her pride. “Let’s get through the challenges of potty training first...for now, back to work.”
More than anything, she didn’t want to push her luck with Royce. He’d been pretty understanding about this whole thing, had even participated in the conversation, but she was holding up progress here. Any minute he might remember that.
With a quick wave and a chorus of goodbyes from the kitchen staff, Jasmine headed back down the hallway to check out the formal living area where they were setting up carnival-type booths. Albeit for a very fancy carnival, that was for sure. Royce suddenly appeared at her side. For several moments, Jasmine maintained their silence.
She could tell Royce wanted to ask her something. She was simply afraid of what it was.
“Why weren’t you there?” he finally asked.
“Where?”
“Watching Rosie crawl.”
Jasmine froze, feeling as if someone had just punched the air from her lungs. She took a deep, extra-heavy breath, then said, “I was in the other room, confirming the menu with Marco.”
She could feel her body stiffening, bracing herself for his derision.
“I’m sorry,” he said simply.
What? “No I told you so?” Even though she kept her tone mild, Jasmine knew the words weren’t. But frankly, she was tired of playing a guessing game. Now was as good a time as any to figure out where Royce stood on the subject of her and her child.
Even if it might burst her romantic bubble.
To her surprise, Royce reached out to rub his thumb across her left cheekbone. “My mother would say you’ve given me a wonderful gift.”
His soft tone, his happy expression, reduced her question to a whisper. “What’s that?”
“Helping me to see that women do whatever is necessary...which isn’t always the same as what they want.”
For a moment, Jasmine held her breath, afraid she might cry.
“What is it?” Royce finally asked.
“Your words are a gift to me, too.”
* * *
Later that evening, everyone but Jasmine had finally left the restored mansion. She could almost feel the emptiness as she made one last check of the areas of the second floor that would be open to the public at tomorrow’s masquerade.
In midafternoon, Royce had finally left to take care of some things at his office. Dominic had finalized the process for photographs and finished setting up the incredible photo booth. The backdrop was a doctored photograph of the house itself, looking mysterious draped in gray fog under a full moon struggling to be seen. Guests would sit in an elegant open carriage polished to a fine shine. Even Jasmine couldn’t wait to have her picture taken.
She’d made the last touches to the flower arrangements on the side tables and in the seating areas. The ice sculpture would be delivered tomorrow, along with the centerpieces for the dining tables.
On her way back to the ballroom, Jasmine checked the long parlor along the front of the house where the carnival booths were set up. The whole length of the house had been beautifully restored, lovingly repainted with gold leaf accents. The chandeliers were original crystal period pieces and the long parlor had vintage wallpaper that Royce’s contractor had ordered from overseas. But there was only one place in the house that caused Jasmine to hold her breath when she stepped in: the ballroom.
It was hard to believe people had homes with literal ballrooms in them anymore. But Royce’s made Jasmine feel like a princess whenever she walked over the threshold. One entire side featured a series of large mirrors hanging in gilded frames. The rest of the walls had panels of hand-painted murals of lords and ladies from centuries past. Jasmine had only seen them in a horrible, degraded state. The experts Royce had brought in had restored them to their former glory as closely as possible.
Jasmine walked across the refinished floors, the click of her heels echoing. She went directly to the far wall where there was a hidden door in one of the panels. With a simple push, it allowed entrance to an alcove, but getting the right spot without knowing it beforehand was almost impossible. The room might once have been a ladies’ sitting room, a place for women to catch their breath on elegant chaises, fix their hair and check makeup in the mirror of the old-fashioned vanity, or simply stare out the window over the back gardens.
Jasmine had a sudden itch to see her dress in the ballroom mirrors before tomorrow night’s crowd cluttered the view. After stripping to her underwear, she took the gown carefully down off the hanger and stepped into it.
Only half of the chandeliers were on in the ballroom, giving it an even more magical feel. Jasmine had kept her heels on, so only the barest hint of the bottom edge of her dress touched the floor. Once, twice, she absently twirled before the mirrors.
The lights sparkled off the bodice and the tiny jewels adorning the edges of each layer of the skirt. Definitely princess material. She couldn’t quite bring herself to pretend she was dancing, but the skirt flared out elegantly as she turned around and around in a circle. On one twirl, she spotted a shape in the doorway. Her heart jumped, throat closing for a moment until Royce stepped out into the soft light. Her pause was involuntary. It was as if everything stilled, waiting for him to lead the dance they’d come to share.
Royce walked slowly toward her, the look in his eyes nowhere close to businesslike. He was wearing his everyday suit, not a tux, but he pulled off a princely demeanor, anyway.
Feeling the pressure to fill the silence, she said, “Your mother would love what you’ve accomplished here. This house is magnificent.”
He kept his solemn expression as he moved closer to her. “She’d appreciate it far more than my business accomplishments. I’m sure you would agree.”
“Actually, Royce, I’m a businesswoman myself. While I love what you’ve done with the place in your mother’s honor, I realize you couldn’t create something this incredible without being successful in your professional life.”
“She didn’t approve of my work in many ways, didn’t want me to follow my father’s path.”
Which he’d done wholeheartedly...until now. “But you haven’t really, have you? You aren’t your father.”
He nodded slowly, as if he were thinking over his answer. “Maybe not.”
Finally he stood before her, studying her with dramatic effect before stepping close to take her into his arms. But before he moved, he used one crooked finger to lift her