* * *
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.”
