delaying tactic, since they all knew cooking wasn’t in her skill set.
“It’s not that easy.” She glanced over her shoulder to check on Rosie, who was cooing at Auntie and Ivy from her bouncy seat. “Even leaving aside the fact that he’s my boss...of sorts. How can I get involved? Royce definitely isn’t the family type. I have Rosie...”
“She’s six months old,” Ivy said from right behind them.
Jasmine jumped. “How’d you move that quick?”
Ivy had a baby face, but her grin made her look even younger. “I have my ways.” She shook her head, making her blond curls dance. “And I wasn’t about to miss what all the whispering was about, now, was I?”
She linked her arm with Jasmine’s and adopted the expression of a captive audience. “Now’s the perfect time for you to live a little. Rosie isn’t old enough to notice at this age. Later, you’ll need to be more careful because she’ll realize when Mommy is gone or bringing someone to visit.”
“I don’t know.” Everything about this change in their attitudes toward each other had Jasmine off kilter. She and Royce had sparred from the moment they met. But now, something different was emerging. Something she wasn’t sure she was ready to face.
Willow nodded in agreement with Ivy, but Jasmine didn’t want to concede that her baby sister was right. She searched for a reply that didn’t make her look like a scaredy-cat. From across the room, Jasmine’s ringtone filled the air.
“Sweetheart,” Auntie called. “It’s that nice young man from the hospital.”
Jasmine shared a look with Willow. The temptation to ignore the call was strong. Jasmine wasn’t ready for the test she could sense was coming around the corner.
“Why don’t you answer it?” Ivy teased. “After all, it’s just business.”
“Brat.”
Willow was less about talk than action. She simply herded Jasmine in the direction of her phone. Jasmine removed her apron as she went. She caught the call right before it switched to voice mail. As she answered, she was acutely aware of her audience.
“Hello?”
“Jasmine?”
Even his voice sounded different. The cadence a little slower. The tone a touch deeper. How was that possible? “Yes?”
“Since our tasting session was cut short, I thought I’d make it up to you by cooking dinner for you.”
That was more like Royce—straight to the point. It was the nature of his point she couldn’t quite grasp.
She could feel the eyes of everyone in the room staring at her. Even Rosie seemed to be watching, still and waiting for her answer to an unknown question. Jasmine hesitated. Going to Royce’s penthouse was definitely not business. She glanced back and forth between Willow’s encouraging expression and Ivy’s excited one. Jasmine forced herself to turn away, to lay the burden of other people’s expectations aside for once.
Even as she paced a few steps and opened her mouth to answer, she wasn’t sure what to say. Was she ready for this? Probably not.
But then she thought over everything she’d been through in the last year. Learning Rosie’s mother was pregnant, that she would probably die. Bringing her to live here. Taking care of her family while learning to be a mother for the first time. All while holding down a crazy job.
What the hell—it was time to live for once.
Royce knew he was in trouble the minute Jasmine walked out of the elevator into the foyer in one of those feminine, flowy dresses she wore. Only this one seemed to have a little more oomph—a little extra cleavage, a slit up one side. Or was his overheated brain imagining that?
He felt like someone had flipped a switch inside him, jumpstarted an electrical pulse that shot through him whenever Jasmine was near. It was like the exhilaration of implementing a successful business plan—only a hundred times harder and sharper.
He didn’t want to fight it anymore. Didn’t want to fight her.
Make love, not war. Wasn’t that a phrase from days past? His mother used to say it. Not that it had gotten her far. Her inability to go to war against his father had turned her life into endless days of drudgery—until Royce had stepped in to change that.
Royce opened the door to his penthouse to allow Jasmine inside. Her heels clicked on the glossy black tile. She breathed deep. “Something smells incredible,” she said. Her slight smile intrigued him.
Was she nervous?
When she swallowed, it confirmed his suspicions, though he had to look hard to notice. “You weren’t kidding that you could cook,” she said.
“I just need to finish a few last-minute things. You aren’t averse to any particular seafood, are you?”
She shook her head, bringing his attention to the thick dark hair swinging around her shoulders.
“That’s good, or else this would be a complete disaster,” he said with a laugh that seemed to break the unexpected tension between them. “I’m finishing up some shrimp scampi. The sides and salad are ready. But I wimped out on the dessert.”
“Not you,” Jasmine mocked in her sassy way.
“I’m not a pastry chef. I figured since we didn’t make it to dessert the other day, I’d go by Marco’s and pick up a praline cheesecake.”
The O of her mouth was encouraging—and sexy as hell. “Sounds awesome,” she said. “But I’m surprised you would admit you can’t cook everything.”
“I realized a long time ago that there was no point in pretending to be something I’m not.”
Her delectable body went still for mere seconds, but Royce caught it. He should have expected a question to follow.
“Was it a problem? Early on?”
He waved her farther into the living area as thoughts swirled through his mind. He watched her take in the comfortably luxurious space. Royce had never wanted to live in a showplace. A few designers had tried to convince him otherwise, but eventually he’d found someone who understood his preferences. The magnificent space was in one of Savannah’s formerly dilapidated shipping warehouses, now refurbished for people who could afford the best—although his “best” meant an awesome sound system, overstuffed leather furniture and a magnificent view. Not high-priced works of art and anemic, uncomfortable chairs.
Jasmine seemed to agree. “Wow,” she breathed as she approached the wall of windows looking out toward downtown and the river.
The architect had pushed out the walls so the floor extended all the way to the stone arches that used to frame an old balcony for ship watching. The arches were now fitted with glass panes for an extended view from inside the unusual room.
“This is an incredible
