“What are you wearing to the yacht party?” Nydia asked.
“I haven’t decided yet. Remember, I couldn’t decide between two dresses to wear to Tonya’s wedding and bought them both.”
It had been the only time when Jasmine found herself in a quandary as to what to select to wear to a formal event. Most times she knew what she wanted and within an hour of walking into a shop would leave with her purchases. Looking for shoes never posed a problem because her closet was filled with shoes in varying styles and colors ranging from sandals and athletic footwear to serviceable pumps and designer stilettos.
“You have fabulous taste in clothes, so whatever you wear will be stunning,” Nydia said.
“Thank you.”
“How do you plan to wear your hair?”
“I’ll definitely pin it up.”
“If you need your hair done, then I’ll ask my mother if she’ll do it for you.”
“Thanks for the offer, but I don’t need anything that fancy.” Except for going to the salon for a haircut or trim, Jasmine usually styled her own coal-black wavy hair to suit the occasion. However, she planned to schedule a mani-pedi and a facial with a popular Second Avenue spa with operating hours that extended to midnight, and call her stylist for a trim.
Jasmine chatted with Nydia for another few minutes, and then said good night. She slipped off the stool and walked into the living room and sat on the loveseat facing the expanse of wall-to-wall, floor-to-ceiling windows. She always enjoyed sitting in the darkened room to look out at the lights on the bridges spanning the East River linking Manhattan with Queens and Brooklyn. It had become her time to reflect and heal.
When she’d decided to divorce Raymond, Jasmine would’ve been willing to give him everything he wanted to gain her freedom and independence—except the condo. No matter how much he pleaded and begged for her to put his name on the deed to the property she refused to relent. It had been her first and only big-ticket purchase and after being handed the keys to the unit, she and Gregory celebrated at his favorite restaurant before returning to his penthouse to make love. She hadn’t known that would be the last time. Two months later he died in his sleep from natural causes. Losing her mentor left her devastated, and it wasn’t until she met antiques dealer Raymond Rios she was able to shake off the sadness that shadowed her whenever she found herself alone.
Jasmine sat in the dark until she felt her lids drooping and knew it was time she get up and go to bed before falling asleep on the loveseat. She left the living room and slipped into bed as she recalled Nydia’s suggestion that she sleep with Cameron, and when the accountant asked her if she had urges, she hadn’t been reticent when she said sometimes. It was as if her desire for making love waned as soon as she discovered her husband’s infidelity. Although she wasn’t the first woman with an unfaithful husband, the pain of knowing he’d denied her the opportunity to become a mother when he had a child with another woman continued to haunt Jasmine. And she wouldn’t have been the only woman forced to accept the reality that her husband had fathered a child outside their marriage. What she refused to accept was his deceptiveness when he underwent a procedure which denied her the possibility of ever bearing his child.
Turning over on her belly, she closed her eyes. Jasmine had promised herself not to dwell on the past and now she was ruminating on what was and would never be repeated. She was rapidly approaching forty-three, she would never have children or want to remarry. And she had more than twenty years before she could even contemplate retiring.
Pounding the pillow under her head, she willed her mind blank and within minutes fell asleep, shutting out the image of the man she would see again and the suggestion of her friend to seduce him.
Chapter 4
Friday morning Jasmine maneuvered up to the curb in front of the Mandarin Oriental to find Cameron waiting for her. Missing was the tailored suit and imported footwear. It was apparent he’d taken her advice to wear comfortable clothing: khakis, matching deck shoes, white golf shirt, and a navy-blue cap with a Yankees logo. He’d perched a pair of sunglasses on the bridge of his nose to protect his eyes from the rays of the brilliant May sun.
She tapped the horn to get his attention. A slight smile parted her lips when he came over to the vehicle, opened the passenger-side door, and sat beside her. His warmth, the now familiar scent of his cologne washed over her when he leaned closer to press a kiss to her cheek.
“Good morning,” he whispered in her ear.
“Good morning, Cameron.” Jasmine did not recognize her own voice which had dropped an octave at the same time her pulse raced wildly throughout her body. His seemingly perfect teeth sparkled in a face that was even more tanned than it had been when they shared dinner at Cipriani.
Waiting until he secured his seatbelt, Jasmine signaled, and then pulled out into traffic when she saw an opening. She was grateful that she was forced to concentrate on the roadway ahead of her rather than the man who made her feel something she had believed long dead—a spark of desire. She wasn’t certain whether it was because of her conversation with Nydia or if it was the man himself.
Jasmine was not an ingénue when it came to interacting with men. After all, she had been a successful decorator in a world dominated by men. However, it wasn’t the same when it came to having a relationship with a man. There had only been Gregory and Raymond, and now she was thinking about cultivating a relationship with Cameron. She did not have to be a genius to acknowledge that Cameron perhaps wanted more than friendship. And with her rapidly approaching forty-three she realized she had nothing to lose.
She lived in New York and he lived in New Orleans, and it would not be the first time Jasmine engaged in a long-distance liaison. The difference this time was that she would not marry her lover, and she doubted that Cameron at forty-eight would want to give up his bachelor card. Her mantra had becomeonce bitten, twice shy.
“How was golf?” Jasmine asked as she headed for the East Side and the Queens-Midtown Tunnel.
Cameron took off his sunglasses and placed them on the dash before he removed his cap and tossed it onto the seat behind him. “It was good. I’ll never make the pros, but I did have fun.”
Jasmine gave him a sidelong glance. “How many holes did you play?”
“Nine. Most of the guys aren’t serious golfers.”
She decelerated and stopped at a red light. “And you are?”
Cameron met her eyes when she glanced at him. “I can say that I’m more serious than the others. I belong to a country club and I participate in many of their charity events. Do you play?”
Jasmine shook her head. “No, but my parents do.”
“Do they still live on Long Island?”
