about Savannah’s origins.
“History nerd,” Jasmine mumbled out of the side of her mouth.
Royce quickly smothered his laugh when Willow glared. “I would hope so,” she declared. “Otherwise I’d suck at teaching it.”
“That makes perfect sense,” Royce said. “I’m sure someone who loves history makes it much more interesting for her students.”
That seemed to mollify Willow—that and sticking her tongue out at her sister.
Royce felt himself relaxing even more. Dinner around the family table was an experience he’d never had. When he and his mother had eaten together, usually on Sundays, they’d sat next to each other in front of the television, eating off of TV trays. He hadn’t expected to enjoy this when he’d sat down tonight.
Just then, a soft weight rested against his arm. He glanced down into the two soft brown eyes in Rosie’s tiny round face. She blinked slowly, then rubbed her head against his arm.
“Um...” Royce glanced around the table, something akin to panic building in his core.
Willow giggled first, then Ivy. Auntie simply smiled.
Jasmine rolled her eyes, shaking her head at her daughter. “You big flirt.”
“She is a woman, after all,” Auntie said.
Royce glanced back down. The baby grinned, showing the first of her teeth in her otherwise empty gums. The panic disintegrated. A feeling he didn’t recognize settled in its place. Something similar to how he felt when lying exhausted in Jasmine’s arms. Almost like...peace.
“How about a change of subject?” Jasmine asked. “After all, I’m not sure how comfortable I am thinking about my six-month-old as a woman. Too early.” She turned to Royce. “Shall we talk about the Jeffersons’ soirée?”
“Oh, you get to go to that?” Ivy asked. “I loved the times I was allowed to go as Jasmine’s guest.”
Willow frowned. “Not me. Too many people and I had no idea what to talk about. I much prefer smaller groups.”
“Which is why I’m going to the masquerade and you aren’t,” Ivy said.
“Have fun.” Obviously Willow was not the social butterfly type.
Jasmine explained, “Willow is more of an introvert than the rest of us.”
“My students are about as big of a group as I can handle,” Willow said. “And even that exhausts me sometimes.”
“I can sympathize, Willow,” Royce said. “I’m a homebody myself. Comfortable only in my private spaces or the office. I don’t often attend social events, but when I do, I try to think of these things as business meetings—just with more people present and a more fluid agenda.”
“I hate to burst your bubble, but not this time,” Jasmine said.
Royce glanced at her over the baby hugging his arm. “What do you mean?”
Her blue eyes were slightly somber. “The Jeffersons don’t do business at these things. It’s very socially oriented. That’s why they are picky about the guest list.”
“All of these social events are covers for getting business done. You may not see it, but it’s there,” Royce insisted. He’d been to enough of them to know, even if such parties weren’t his preferred venue. “Otherwise, they’d be a big waste of time.”
She was already shaking her head. “Not this time. While there are usually a lot of business people there, it isn’t discussed directly. Remember my little talk about building connections, not just business deals? They’re just as important. Trust me.”
“Sure.” We’ll see. Jasmine was a smart woman. A whole lot more people smart than he was. But Royce knew business...and he was determined to advance his at every opportunity—no matter what she thought she knew.
Royce would trust his instincts. Every time.
* * *
Jasmine smoothed out the collar of her dress, then the skirt. It felt weird to be heading to a public event with Royce. They’d spent plenty of time together in private—delectable time. And, yes, they’d occasionally talked business or gone over progress for the masquerade, but this was different. Something they had never addressed.
Attending the Jeffersons’ Sunday Salon with Royce put her on a path that left her with no distinct sense of how to act. Was this business? Was it a date? Would she look into his eyes and see the heat that often exploded between them without warning?
How should she react? Naturally? Or keep it under wraps? All the questions had her twisting her hands together in her lap.
Suddenly Royce pulled his car over and put it in park. Jasmine’s stomach flip-flopped. But she swallowed against the tightening in her throat and asked, “Is something wrong?”
“You tell me. Is something wrong, Jasmine?”
“How did you know?” As if her stiffness this morning wasn’t a clear sign. She’d been hoping he would ignore it.
“You’re not at all your normal happy, mischievous self today.”
She glanced over at him, realizing that was probably the first time she’d looked directly at him since they’d gotten into the car. No wonder he’d asked. Royce wasn’t stupid.
“Sorry.”
“Just tell me what it is and we’ll figure it out.”
He was right. Even though this was the last thing she wanted to talk about, what was the point of prolonging the torture that she’d been enduring for over a month? “I’m just not sure...” She swallowed, trying to loosen up her throat. This was something she’d never had to say to a client. “I’m not sure how you want me to act while we are here...out in public.”
His grip tightened on the steering wheel as he nodded slowly. “I see what you mean.”
“I know you hired me as your event planner. Attending this party was part of our business agreement. I’m just—”
Without warning, he leaned across the console to cup her face with his palms. The press of his lips to hers was so familiar now, almost as necessary as breathing. The fear, the uncertainty sparked by that revelation, was something she spent a lot of energy ignoring every day.
She opened her eyes to meet his, just inches away.
“I should have known this would be a problem,” he murmured.
Her heart sank.
“I have no idea where this is going between us,” Royce said.
This was it...he was going to dump her because she’d asked how he wanted her to behave in public.
He rubbed his thumb against her cheek. “But it’s time we just accept that it’s there and deal with it. Don’t you agree?”
