Chapter 2
The rear door opened and Cameron Singleton stepped out of the town car when it stopped in front of Cipriani Club 55. He had made certain to leave his hotel in time to get to the restaurant before Jasmine arrived. “I’ll call you when I’m ready to go back,” he told the driver.
Cameron had flown into New York on Saturday night and Sunday afternoon he reconnected with eleven of his fraternity brothers living in the tristate area when they gathered for brunch in Harlem. They were still awaiting the arrival of others from different parts of the country, which would swell their confirmed total to fifteen.
It had been more than a quarter of a century since his college graduation and over the years he’d lost some of his friends because of illness, accidents, and a few who had died in combat. Several had had more than one marriage and the result was a loss of interest in attempting to revive what had been and would never be again. But Cameron, having never been married and now forty-eight, still reveled in his single status.
Over the years he had dated a number of different women, although there were occasions when he was content to be alone for long periods of time. He had earned the reputation of being a serial dater, yet the epithet did not affect him because he enjoyed living his life without restrictions and/or entanglements. What few knew was that his reluctance to marry stemmed from his parents’ turbulent marriage. They couldn’t live together, but were miserable whenever they separated. Cameron lost count of the number of times they had reconciled, and the irony was that in a few months they would celebrate their fiftieth wedding anniversary.
Ten minutes later a taxi maneuvered up to the curb and the rear door opened. Cameron went completely still. He held his breath as he stared at the beautifully formed feet of a woman wearing a pair of strappy stilettos touch the sidewalk before his gaze moved up and lingered on smooth, bare brown legs. A hint of a smile parted his lips when he saw Jasmine Washington for the first time in nearly seven months.
She looked different than he remembered. Back in October she’d worn an orange gown that concealed her legs and feet, but now the slimness of her body was blatantly on display in a de rigueur sleeveless little black dress with a scooped neckline and slightly flared skirt ending at the knees. Hair that had been pinned up in a sophisticated twist behind her right ear now bounced above her shoulders in a mass of curls.
Galvanized into motion, Cameron approached her. Everything about Jasmine enveloped him: her perfume, the flawless complexion that shimmered like burnished silk, the slightly slanting dark eyes, and the tiny heart-shaped beauty mark high on her right cheekbone, the pert nose, and the full lush mouth that other women paid plastic surgeons exorbitant sums of money to achieve. And the slight expression of shock that momentarily froze her delicate features faded when she recognized him.
Lowering his head, he pressed a kiss to her cheek. “You look incredible. Thank you for meeting me.”
Jasmine stared up at him through her lashes, clearly unaware of the seductiveness of the gesture. “Thank you for inviting me.” She shifted the black cashmere shawl and small evening purse to her right hand when Cameron took her left.
He gave her a sidelong glance as he led her to the entrance of the restaurant, his gaze lingering on her profile. Cameron did not know what it was about Jasmine that made him feel slightly off-balance; when he had first approached her at Hannah and St. John McNair’s wedding reception he felt her tension as surely as it was his own. Once they had shared a dance, he’d asked to take her out to dinner. She told him that wasn’t possible because she was leaving to return to New York the following afternoon.
Undaunted, he asked for her number while explaining that he traveled to New York every May. Jasmine offered him her number probably believing he would forget her. Well, he hadn’t forgotten her, because not only did she look different from any other woman he’d dated, she also appeared more sophisticated and more mature.
The door opened and they were greeted by the maître de. “Good evening. Welcome to Cipriani.”
Cameron smiled. “Thank you. The name is Singleton. I have a seven o’clock reservation for two in Terrace 55.”
The man nodded. “Mr. Singleton. I’ll have someone escort you to your table.”
Cameron gave Jasmine’s fingers a gentle squeeze. Three minutes later they were seated at a table on the colonnade terrace overlooking Wall Street. He stared at her as she glanced around the dining room. “Have you eaten here before?” he asked.
“Yes. The company I used to work for occasionally held their holiday and retirement parties here.”
There was something about Jasmine he found mesmerizing and while he knew it was rude to stare, he was past caring. He didn’t know if it was the perfection of her face, the black dress flattering the slender curves of her lithe figure, or the fluidity of her body language that indicated she was unquestionably confident in her femininity.
“Who did you work for?”
“Are you familiar with the name Wakefield Hamilton?” she asked, answering his question with one of her own.
“Yes. I remember Hannah mentioning she once worked for them.” As her financial manager, Cameron was more than familiar with his client’s resources. But when he’d asked Hannah about Jasmine, she had refused to give him any feedback. She said a grown man didn’t need her as a go-between if he was interested in her friend.
* * *
Jasmine settled back in her chair as she studied her dining partner and found him even more attractive than she had remembered. The sprinkling of lighter strands in his thick hair, parted on the left, appeared more gold than gray. A lean jaw, strong firm chin, and balanced features all made for an arresting masculine face. His light-blue eyes were an exact match for his custom-made shirt with French cuffs bearing his monogram, and she knew from the cut of the tailored dark-gray suit that it had not come off a store rack.
“Hannah did work for them, and so did I. It’s a private international investment bank,” she explained. “Last year they merged with another bank and moved the entire company to south Jersey.”
“You weren’t willing to commute?”
“I wasn’t given the opportunity to accept or reject commuting. None of us who were downsized were aware of the merger until we were told to retrieve our personal effects and then escorted out of the building.”
He grimaced. “That’s cold.”
She scrunched up her nose. “That’s one of the pitfalls of working for someone else. Even though we were given a generous severance package and health insurance coverage for a year it still didn’t lessen the pain of having the rug pulled out from under us. And as the assistant director of personnel I had no idea the merger was taking place.”
Cameron whistled softly. “Talk about a sneak attack.”
“Amen,” Jasmine said under her breath.
Their conversation was preempted when the sommelier handed Cameron a binder with a wine listing. “Will you share a bottle of champagne with me?”
Smiling, Jasmine nodded. “Of course.”
“Do you have a preference?”
“No, I don’t.”
Cameron signaled the sommelier and gave him the binder without opening it. “We’ll have a bottle of Krug.”
The man smiled. “Excellent choice.”
“Do you come here so often that you don’t have to look at the wine list?” Jasmine asked Cameron.
He smiled, revealing a mouth filled with straight, white teeth. “I usually eat here whenever I come to New York.”
“And how often is that?”
“Once or twice a year.”
“For business or pleasure?”
Cameron stared out the window for several seconds. “Always pleasure.” His gaze swung back to her. “The first time I came to New York, I admit I was a little intimidated moving to a city with a population in the millions, but after I completed my freshman year I couldn’t wait to get back. I shared a two-bedroom apartment with another student, and we eventually became fraternity brothers. His concentration was accounting, while I majored in finance and economics.”
“I’ve never been able to grasp the principles of economics. It’s the only high school and college course that I barely passed,” Jasmine admitted.
“Where did you attend college?” he asked.
“Unlike you, I didn’t leave home. I grew up on Long Island and commuted into the city to the New York School of Interior Design.”
* * *
Cameron found this disclosure puzzling. Jasmine had said she worked in the bank as a human resource manager. “You’re an interior decorator.” The query was a statement.
“Yes.”
“What made you decide to go into HR?”
“That’s a long story.”
His impassive expression did not change. “Is that your way of telling me it’s none of my business?”
Jasmine’s jaw dropped, apparently taken aback by his accusation. “No. If I didn’t want to talk about it I would’ve said so.”
Reaching across the table, he placed his hand over hers. “Forgive me for prying.”
She smiled. “There’s nothing to forgive. When did you get in and how long do you plan to stay?” Jasmine asked, deftly changing the topic.
Cameron withdrew his hand and leaned back in his chair. “I flew in Friday afternoon, and I’m not scheduled to fly out again until Sunday night.”
“What is it you do in a week?”
“Most of the guys who come into town early always meet for Sunday brunch. This year we ate at Chocolat.”
Her eyebrows lifted slightly. “Are you talking about the Chocolat Restaurant Lounge in Harlem?”
He nodded. “Yes. Are you familiar with the place?”
“Yes. It’s my favorite place for Sunday brunch.”
“It was my first time eating there,” Cameron said. “I must admit I was very impressed with the food, service, and the decor. Every time I come back and visit Harlem I find the area changed.”
“It’s undergoing an incredible gentrification like Brooklyn. The word is Brooklyn is the new Manhattan.”
Cameron nodded again. “Give it a few years and it will be almost impossible to afford to live in either place.”
“Have you ever thought about living here permanently?”
Jasmine’s query caught him slightly off-guard. “Not really.”
“You claim you like New York, so why wouldn’t you want to live here?”
A beat passed before he said, “I like New York, but not enough to relocate. What about you, Jasmine?”
“What about me?”
“Would you ever consider living somewhere other than New York?”
She bit down on her lower lip, bringing his gaze to linger there. “I’ve thought about it.”
“What’s stopping you?”
Her answer was preempted when the wine steward approached the table with two flutes and a bottle of chilled champagne. He expertly uncorked the bottle, half-filled one of the flutes with the sparkling liquid, and handed it to Cameron, who gave it to Jasmine.
She took a sip and smiled. “Excellent.”
Cameron nodded, silently acknowledging his approval. Once the flutes were filled, he raised his in a toast. “I raise my glass to wish you your heart’s desire.”
Jasmine blinked slowly, and then lifted her flute. “If we do meet again, why, we shall smile. If not, why then this parting was well made.”
He went completely still. Why was she toasting about parting when he had hoped this wouldn’t be their last encounter during his weeklong stay. “Are you saying you’ll never go out with me again?”
She took a sip of wine while staring directly at him. “Don’t you recognize the Bard?”
He shook his head as a sheepish expression flitted over his features. “I must admit I slept through most of my literature courses. Shakespeare in particular.”
“Shame on you,” Jasmine teased, smiling. “And to answer your question. I didn’t say I wouldn’t go out with you again. Remember, we met the first time last October and our parting was amicable even though I felt as if you did come on a little strong.”
Cameron lowered his eyes as he stared at his left hand splayed on the tablecloth. “I’m sorry about that.” He smiled. “Does this mean we’ll get to see each other again before I go back home?”
Reaching across the table, Jasmine rested her hand atop his. “Let’s get through tonight’s dinner before we fast-forward to the next date.”
He was momentarily speechless in his surprise. When he had sent Jasmine the text message he wasn’t certain whether she would reply, or if she did, if she would accept his dinner invitation. Cameron had known and dated enough women in his life to recognize there was something different about Jasmine that made him want to know her better.
“You’re right. There are times when I tend to get ahead of myself.”
Jasmine’s eyebrows lifted slightly. “How long have you been plagued with impulsivity?”
Much to his chagrin, Cameron laughed softly. He was more than aware of his negative personality traits, but being impulsive wasn’t one of them. There were times when he had been accused of being moody, controlling, and possessive, but never reckless or impetuous.
“It appears it only occurs when I’m with you.” He felt Jasmine’s hand tremble slightly atop his before she removed it.
“What is there about me that makes you so reckless?”
He angled his head and smiled. “I don’t know. And that’s what I’d like to find out.”
Jasmine sat straight. “That’s not going to happen over one dinner date.”
“You’re right, but perhaps over time I can get to figure it out.”
“You come to New York once or twice a year, while I doubt whether I’ll come down to New Orleans for more than a couple of weeks once I find permanent employment.”
“You’re not working?”
“Not at the present time,” she admitted in a quiet voice. “I’d accepted a temporary, per-diem position with a social services agency to help with a backlog of cases assisting families transitioning from homeless shelters to permanent housing, but that ended last week. Right now I’ve decided to take the summer off and wait until September before looking for a permanent position.”
“Do you plan to spend the entire summer here?” Cameron asked.
Jasmine shook her head. “No. I’m coming down to your neck of the woods for my friend’s wedding, and if it doesn’t get too hot, then I’ll hang out there for a couple of weeks with Hannah and St. John.”
Cameron flashed a Cheshire cat grin. “If we get along well tonight, then I’d like to extend an invitation to act as your guide once you come down.”
* * *
Jasmine wanted to tell Cameron that again he was getting ahead of himself, but decided not to call him on it. Even though she had accused him of coming on too strong, there was something about him that radiated strength and confidence—two traits she found attractive in a man. “I’ll definitely keep that mind,” she said. “I’m leaving here the end of the month, and I plan to stay until the seventeenth of June.”
“When’s your friend’s wedding?”
“It’s the second Saturday in June.”
Cameron nodded. “I’ll make certain to rearrange my work hours to take you around.”
“You don’t have to do that.”
He put up a hand. “It’s okay. I’ve been told that I work too much, so now I have an excuse to get out of the office.”
Jasmine didn’t have the opportunity to form a reply when their waiter approached the table to take their dining selections. She chose an asparagus salad with beets and goat cheese, and a main course of Mediterranean grilled branzino with mixed vegetables. Cameron decided on tuna tartare with a frisée salad, grilled salmon, and vegetables.
She listened intently as he outlined the activities he’d share with his college buddies. After Sunday brunch they’d traveled to Atlantic City to stay overnight to gamble and attend several shows. Cameron admitted they had overindulged and once they returned Monday afternoon most were too hungover and had to scrap their plans for that night and the next day.
“Tomorrow we’re scheduled to drive up to Connecticut to golf.”
“How many are in your squad?” she teased.
Throwing back his head, Cameron laughed. “Initially we had twenty-two, but we’re down to fifteen. We are a motley crew of middle-aged frat boys trying to recapture our youth, and so far we’re failing miserably.”
Her salad and Cameron’s appetizer were set on the table, and Jasmine could not help but smile when she tried to imagine forty-something men challenging each other to see how much they could drink and still remain upright. “That’s the distinct difference between men and women. We are less likely to challenge one another in what I call a pissing contest to see who comes out the winner.”
Cameron sobered. “You have other ways of competing.”
“How’s that?”
“It all comes down to physical appearance. Many sororities accept or reject girls based on how they look, while jocks are only concerned with having dudes on their teams that will help them win.”
Jasmine’s eyes met and fused with Cameron’s penetrating light-blue orbs. She took another sip of champagne before the waiter refilled her glass. “I suppose we all have our biases.”
“You’re right, even though some biases are more dangerous than others.”
“What’s on your agenda for Thursday?” she asked, again deftly changing the topic.
“We have tickets for a game at Yankees Stadium. Friday is free day because that will give everyone time to prepare for Saturday night’s finale. Those who have wives and girlfriends usually arrive on Friday to join their significant others.”
“What’s happening Saturday night?”
“We have a formal dinner cruise up the Hudson River to the Adirondack Mountains before we reverse direction to dock at Chelsea Piers.”
“How long will that take?”
“Twelve hours.”
“What about your girlfriend?” Jasmine asked, as she wondered why Cameron was asking to take her out when he had someone committed to join him on the dinner cruise.
“What about her?”
“Is she coming in Friday?”
A mysterious smile tilted the corners of his mouth. “No, because I don’t have a girlfriend.”
“Why not?” Jasmine asked. “You seem nice enough to have a special lady friend.”
Attractive lines deepened around his luminous eyes when his smile grew wider. “Thanks for the compliment, but right now I’m not involved with anyone.”
“It doesn’t bother you to attend a formal affair without a plus-one?” She had asked him what seemed like an endless stream of questions.
“At forty-eight I’m quite comfortable going to social events without a date.”
She had been unable to pinpoint Cameron’s age, yet she would have thought him closer to early forties rather than approaching fifty. It was obvious he took good care of himself as evidenced by his slender physique and unlined complexion.
“You did attend Hannah’s wedding alone.”
“There you go. What about you, Jasmine? Have you ever attended an affair unescorted?”
His question gave her pause and she thought back to before she married Raymond. There had only been one other man in her life, and he had been her first lover and mentor. She owed everything to twice-married Gregory Carson, thirty years her senior, for giving her what she needed to become a much sought-after successful interior decorator.
“Maybe a few times, but I always found it uncomfortable,” she admitted. “Whenever a guy who had a date would come over and ask me to dance, their woman would either give me the stink-eye, or a few would be bold enough to tell me not to dance with their man again. I wanted to tell them their man had asked me to dance, and not the other way around.”
“Didn’t you know they were jealous of you?”
Jasmine rolled her eyes upward. “It had nothing to do with jealousy, but insecurity. I wouldn’t care how much my man danced with other women as long I knew he was coming home with me.”
Cameron applauded softly. “Good for you. You’re in the minority because not everyone is as confident as you are.”
“Would it bother you if we went out together and I danced with other men?”
“Hell no,” he drawled. “As you said, as long as we were going home together, then it wouldn’t make a difference to me.” Cameron paused. “Now that we’re on the same page, I’d like to invite you to be my date for the dinner cruise.”
Jasmine wanted to remind him that he was coming on strong again, but in a moment of madness she decided to turn the tables on Cameron. “I’ll go with you, but I’d like you to go out with me Friday.” There was no doubt she had shocked him when his jaw dropped.
Seconds became a full minute. “Where are we going?”
“You’ll get to see Long Island’s North Fork when I take you to a restaurant where you can sample a variety of incredibly prepared seafood dishes.”
He winked at her. “That sounds like the Big Easy if you’re talking about seafood.”
She smiled. “Seafood, yes, drinks no. The difference is go-cups are illegal in New York.”
His smile matched hers. “I accept, which means we’re on for Saturday. Now, if you need to buy a dress and accessories for Saturday, then I’ll give you one of my credit cards.”
Jasmine’s expression changed as if she had been doused with ice-cold water. Did he actually believe that because she wasn’t employed she could not afford to purchase something to wear for a formal affair? Not having a job did not translate into her struggling to make ends meet. The generous severance package from Wakefield Hamilton, in addition to the equity in her condo and a generous divorce settlement, afforded her financial stability if she did not drastically alter her lifestyle.
“Thanks, but no thanks.” Her words were dripping with sarcasm.
“I didn’t mean to insult you, Jasmine,” Cameron said in apology.
She held up her hand. “Let it go, Cameron. I can assure you that I have something appropriate for the evening.” She hadn’t lied to him. When she had visited her favorite boutique to look for an outfit for Tonya’s wedding she had been unable to decide between two dresses, and in the end purchased both.
Jasmine concentrated on eating her salad. Tonya’s invitation indicated she and Gage planned to exchange vows at seven in the courtyard of her fiancé’s home in the Upper French Quarter, followed by a reception in Hannah and St. John’s garden. Tonya had sent her photos of the interior and exterior of Gage’s house and Jasmine was awed by the beauty of the residence. It resembled Parisian-style garret with wrought-iron balconies, a lush courtyard, and upper floors offering views of the city and Mississippi River. Tonya had chosen her daughter to be her attendant, while Gage had selected his son as his groomsman.
She was looking forward to reuniting with Tonya and Hannah, and discovered each time she left New Orleans to return to New York she felt something pulling her back to the historic city. Jasmine knew it wasn’t the place as much as it was her friends. She’d become so connected with Nydia, Hannah, and Tonya that she had begun to think of them as her sisters.
Jasmine waved away the waiter when he attempted to refill her glass again. “I’m good, thank you.” Although she had eaten the salad she was beginning to feel the effects of the sparkling wine.
“Are you sure you don’t want another glass?” Cameron asked under his breath when the man moved away from the table. “I’ll make certain you get home unscathed.”
“I’m not worried about getting home, because I plan to take a taxi.”
“That’s unnecessary because I have a driver on-call. By the way, where do you live?”
“East Eighty-Second Street. Where are you staying?”
“This year we all checked in at the Mandarin Oriental. A couple of years ago we stayed on an estate on one of the Thousand Islands that had been in one of my frat brother’s family as far back as the Civil War. He claimed his three-time great-grandfather had a factory in New Hampshire that manufactured armaments for the Union army. He built the house and several outbuildings as a vacation retreat with the fortune he had made from the war.”
“How did you get there?” Jasmine asked.
“We flew up to Syracuse, and then took a boat to the island. After we got there we scrapped our plans to visit Canada because we spent most of our time swimming and touring some of the other islands.”
“It’s nice that you guys still get together after so many years.”
“We all made a pact that once any of us becomes a grandfather, we’ll get together every five years.”
Jasmine wondered if Cameron had an ex-wife, or had fathered children. “Most of you are nearing the big five-oh, so it’s only a matter of time before someone will claim grandfather status.”
“I’m not counted among them, because I don’t have any kids.”
This disclosure puzzled her. “You never wanted children?”
He lifted broad shoulders under his suit jacket. “I never thought of them one way or the other. Unlike some men, I didn’t want to become a baby daddy, so I’ve always made certain to use protection whenever I sleep with a woman.”
“Good for you,” she said sotto voce. Jasmine wanted to tell Cameron her ex had no qualms when it came to sleeping with a woman who wasn’t his wife and eventually fathered a child with her.
“Do you have children?”
She shook her head. “No. My ex-husband and I talked about starting a family, but it wasn’t in the cards for us.”
Cameron touched his napkin to the corners of his mouth. “You’re still young enough to become a mother or you could always adopt.”
Jasmine wanted to tell him she wasn’t that young, and in another week she would celebrate her forty-third birthday. “Look at you,” she chided. “You talk about not wanting to become a baby daddy; meanwhile you’re suggesting I become a baby mama.”
“There is a difference. If you decide to adopt a child you’d be a single mother.”
“It’s the same difference. Either way I wouldn’t have a man in my child’s life,” she argued softly.
“What if you’d had a child when you were married and it ended in divorce? You’d still be a single mother.”
“True, but at least my child would know who his or her father is. I grew up with both parents and I’d want the same for my child.”
“That is something none of us can control,” Cameron argued softly. “Children can lose a parent either through divorce or even death and still grow up well-adjusted.”
Jasmine waited until the waiter removed her salad plate before he set down her entrée, and then Cameron’s before she asked, “Is that what happened to you?”
He frowned as he stared at the contents on his plate for several seconds. “No. Even though my parents are still married, there was a time when they were like oil and water.” His head popped up and the coldness in his eyes wouldn’t permit her to take a normal breath. The blue was replaced by a steely-gray.
“Are you saying they shouldn’t have married?”
“That’s not for me to say. But, there were times when I’d wished they weren’t together, because they were always at each other’s throats.”
Jasmine knew it was time to change the topic of conversation; she didn’t want to talk about babies, and it was apparent Cameron’s parents had had a volatile marriage, while her own had been equally turbulent.
“How long have you known Hannah?”
“It has to be at least thirty years,” he said. “I must admit there was a time when I was a teenager that I had a crush on her.”
“You’re kidding!”