when she’d claimed a connection.
“About every other month.”
The Sunday Salon was a coveted invite that didn’t come around that often for most people. The Jeffersons must adore Jasmine Harden, which told Royce he’d made the right choice of event planner—even if he didn’t feel all that comfortable with it.
“All right,” he said. “Tell me more.”
He couldn’t complain that Jasmine wasn’t thorough. In ten minutes, he knew more than he really wanted to, but he had no doubt she was the best woman for the job. Before she finished he was convinced she would oversee every detail and nothing would be missed. She addressed every aspect of the planning, including quite a few things he never would have thought about.
“So what do you think?” she asked.
A lot of things he couldn’t say at the moment—because they were completely unbusinesslike. Luckily she wasn’t looking at him as she efficiently laid the baby down in the stroller. Was it terrible of him that he didn’t know the child’s name and was afraid to ask?
“Sounds good,” he said, eager to be away from all the churning thoughts this meeting had raised. “Send the mock-up and budget projections to Matthew. Let me know when you need me for anything.”
Her brows rose at his short tone, but she didn’t question him. “I’ll do that.” She gathered her bag and tablet, then faced him once more. “When you look at the budget, remember that successful events involve getting all the details right, and that takes a lot of people.”
“While logically I understand that—” and he truly was getting on board with the concept “—I still have to look at the bottom line.”
Jasmine stared at him a moment; he detected the barest hint of an eye roll before her thick lashes swooped down. “Let’s put it this way—is the time and money worth it to gain the new contract?”
Her words registered, but instead of thinking about business, Royce found himself holding his breath, waiting to see if she would look back up and show him those intense blue eyes once more. Then the baby let out a big sigh and broke the spell.
As Jasmine leaned over to look into the stroller, he forcibly pulled himself back to reality—and the knowledge that this woman was off limits in more ways than one.
“Yes, it is,” he said. “You may proceed.”
“Okay—we will need to start with the charity.”
“I’ve told you it doesn’t matter to me. Pick whatever you want.”
“I have. You’ll be helping raise money for a new building for the City Sanctuary homeless mission.”
Royce nodded even as he tuned her out—though it wasn’t as easy as he would have liked. He didn’t care about the details—didn’t want to care. He also didn’t want to care about her thick hair and expressive face or the curves highlighted by the black power suit she wore.
“Also, we need to pick a venue right away. What dates would work for viewing possible locations?”
Her sharpened tone caused Royce to snap back to attention. She hadn’t been kidding about the participation thing. Her long stare reinforced her message.
“Check with Matthew. He’ll know what’s available.”
Smartly she stood up and pointed the stroller toward the door.
Royce had the sudden conviction that he couldn’t let her walk out the door without making himself clear, as well. “I realize my point of view isn’t a popular one these days, but as the child of a hardworking single mother myself, I have a strong opinion about children in the workplace,” he said.
Glancing back at him, she asked, “What’s that?”
“My office isn’t a day care but I do apologize for my rudeness on the phone.”
She gifted him with a sexy smile that had no place in his office, as much as he wished it did. But then came the sass. “Remember that and we will work together just fine.”
Before he could respond, she pushed the stroller out the door. He heard her tell Matthew goodbye with that same sweet tone—this time with no steel undercurrents. She was definitely infuriating and intriguing.
Thoroughly dangerous territory.
He’d thought about not showing up at all.
Staring up at the austere lines of the museum Jasmine had chosen as a possible venue, he wished he had ditched their meeting. But standing her up again was not a good option. She’d taught him that much.
Besides, his mama would have considered it ungentlemanly to simply ditch her—even if memories of his mama were what made him not want to show up at the museum in the first place.
But he had to stand firm. Today, he would take back the reins because he would not hold his event in a building he could no longer set foot in—much less play host in for an evening.
He was still staring at the building when Jasmine pulled up beside him in a pristine compact sedan. After climbing out, she smiled at him.
“Well, look at you,” she said, her voice as teasing as it had been that first night on the phone when he’d called her. He didn’t like to acknowledge the tingles of anticipation that hit him when he heard it—which were just as strong this morning as they had been then.
“I was a little unsure that you’d actually show up,” she went on, “much less arrive early.”
The tingle of anticipation grew, only this time it was for the challenge he knew was ahead of him. Still he struggled to keep any emotion from his expression.
“There’s no point in going inside,” he said, letting his tone match what he hoped was his deadpan expression.
Her frown as she shut the door and walked around the front of her car warned him that she was thinking hard about this turn of events. “May I ask why?”
“We aren’t having my event here.”
She glanced back over her shoulder at the building behind her, the multiple columns majestically holding up the austere gabled roof with its carved marble depiction of birds. When she turned to him, confusion reigned in those gorgeous blue eyes. “Again, may I ask why?”
“I don’t want it here.” And he didn’t. No need for discussion about his troubled childhood or dead mother. “Personal reasons.”
“Are they good enough reasons?” she asked, tossing her hair over her shoulder.
“It is when I’m signing the checks.”
Her expression told him she wanted to be offended, even when she knew he was right. But she wasn’t simply accepting his decree. “I thought you didn’t want to be involved in the decisions?” she demanded.
This wasn’t the same as dealing with any of his other business associates. When they slapped their hands to their hips, he never noticed the sway of their breasts. He shouldn’t be noticing Jasmine’s now, but somehow he couldn’t help himself.
“And you said you wanted me to be involved in making the decisions,” he reminded her. “Which is it?”
That little intake of air pushed her breasts out just a touch more. Heaven help him.
She nodded. He could tell she wanted further explanation. He wasn’t giving it.
Finally she turned away, giving him a break from that penetrating gaze. “Let me go touch base with the manager,” she said. “I need to stay on good terms here.”
“Of course.”
“Then