She lowered her arm. “Are you saying you want to marry Cameron?”
“No. But if I do marry him, it’ll be because I love him and can’t imagine my life without him, not because of a baby.”
“Has he mentioned marriage?”
“No. And neither will I.”
There came a pause before Hannah spoke again. “What do you want? Boy or girl?”
“What’s the pat answer? I don’t care as long as it’s healthy. Aside from barfing, I don’t feel pregnant,” Jasmine admitted. “Once my body starts changing, then it will become more of a reality.”
Hannah glanced at the clock on the microwave. “After you finish your smoothie you should head for bed. You don’t realize it but your eyelids are getting heavy. I forgot to tell you that I’m going to give you the name and number of my ob-gyn.”
“I’ll sign a release so my doctor in New York can fax my medical records down here.” Jasmine finished the smoothie, rinsed the glass, and placed it in the dishwasher. “Good night, Hannah.”
“Good night. I’m going to stay up a little longer and wait for St. John’s call.”
Jasmine left the kitchen and climbed the staircase to her bedroom. For her, sleep had become a commodity more precious than gold.
Chapter 15
Cameron studied the numbers on the spreadsheet until they began to blur. He was daydreaming again. He’d begun the task of reviewing the portfolios of every Singleton Investments client. His father’s retirement was still six months away, but Cameron felt the undertaking would help distract him from obsessing about Jasmine and the baby. He knew Jasmine wanted children while he had been ambivalent about fathering a child, but that was no longer a subject of discussion or debate because a power beyond his control deemed otherwise.
“Cameron, Mrs. Tennyson is on the phone for you.” His assistant’s voice coming through the intercom shattered his musings.
“Thank you, Allison. Please patch her through.” He picked up the receiver and swiveled on the chair to stare out the window. “Mrs. Tennyson, how are you?” he said after hearing the elderly woman’s singsong greeting.
“I’m well, Cameron. Have you given any more thought to my investing in my grandson’s company?”
Cameron massaged his forehead as he recalled his client’s excuse for withdrawing a million dollars from her account to invest in what he knew was a Ponzi scheme. “Yes, Mrs. Tennyson, you did tell me he’s your grandson, but as your wealth manager I’m going to caution you about giving him that much money.”
“What do you recommend I give him?”
“No more than five thousand.” Cameron suggested the figure because he knew her lowlife grandson would reject it outright.
“But, he says he needs a million.”
“Tell your grandson to call me and I’ll set up a meeting with him to talk about his new venture. If I feel it’s viable I’ll carefully scrutinize and analyze installment transfers.”
Abigail Tennyson’s family had amassed a fortune in oil and natural gas and Singleton Investments had safeguarded their wealth with prudent stock ventures. Abigail’s grandson had squandered his multimillion-dollar trust in less than two years and was looking for more from his indulgent grandmother. Cameron’s sixth sense told him the wannabe Bernie Madoff was about to get a rude awakening if he believed Singleton Investments would randomly give him a million dollars without strict monitoring because of his grandmother’s generosity.
“That sounds fair. I’ll tell him to call you. Thank you, Cameron.”
“You’re welcome, Mrs. Tennyson.”
A light knock garnered Cameron’s attention. He turned on the chair and saw his brother in the doorway. “Come on in.” Preston had taken a week off to take his son and daughter to the Smoky Mountains. “How was it roughing it with your kids?”
Preston walked into the office and sat on the corner of the credenza. “It was great. They’d really got the hang of fly-fishing. I came to ask you about your new lady.”
Cameron’s brows drew downward in a frown. “What are you talking about?”
“Madison and some of her girlfriends were having brunch at Momma’s Place last week and she said she saw you with a woman who she says is definitely not your type.”
A muscle flicked angrily in Cameron’s jaw. He wanted to tell his brother that Madison should stay the hell out of his personal life. His sister-in-law continued to hold a grudge because he’d refused to date her best friend. “Since when does your wife determine who my type is?”
“I’m sure she didn’t mean it like that,” Preston said in defense of his wife.
“Please don’t make excuses for her, Preston. If Madison wanted to know who the lady was with me, then she should’ve come over to the table and I would’ve introduced her.”
