Jasmine eyes shimmered with amusement. “Please don’t tell me he became a black marketeer.”
Cameron chuckled. “Not quite. He set up a food pantry and gave away food to the neediest families. Meanwhile he had set up an investment company for those who believed he had kept his fortune because of prudent investments.”
“So he was a Scrooge turned philanthropist.”
“You could say that. Once the country recovered from the Depression, folks were standing in line begging him to take their money. He was an equal opportunity investment manager because no one was turned away whether they had one hundred dollars or a hundred thousand.
“Once my father took over he set up internal departments within the company based on a client’s net worth. We treat clients who have five thousand the same as those with five hundred million.”
“How many clients do you have?” Jasmine asked.
“Right now we have twenty-eight.”
“That’s not many.”
“It’s eight more than we normally handle. We’re a small investment company, and unlike companies like Goldman Sachs or Merrill Lynch Wealth Management, we have a very personal relationship with our clients. I’m responsible for our wealthiest clients and they demand a greater level of service than average clients. This includes advice on estate planning, stock-option planning, and occasionally the use of hedging derivatives for large blocks of stock. Our overall services include: financial, investment, retirement, business retirement, and estate planning.”
Jasmine thought about the monies she’d put away for the proverbial rainy day. She did not fall into the wealthy category, yet she had done well for herself. Hannah had given her the contract outlining the conditions of her investing in the DuPont Inn. She’d read it over before sending it to Amelia. Her cousin questioned several clauses and discussed them with Hannah. Her friend then deleted them. Jasmine signed the amended copy, and then authorized her bank to transfer the funds to Hannah’s bank. She was now officially an innkeeper.
“If you have a son, would you insist he join the family company?” she asked Cameron.
“No. I would never make that a condition as to his career choice. My brothers have four boys between them to carry on the family name and they have the option of choosing to continue the tradition of running Singleton Investments. My father took me to work with him as a teenager and like an addict, investing became my drug of choice.”
Jasmine understood his passion. For her it had been decorating. The first time her mother brought her a dollhouse she had become fixated on buying miniature furniture to fill up the rooms. Over the years the dollhouses became bigger and bigger until they took up half of her bedroom and she was forced to store them in the attic.
The sky had darkened quickly by the time they arrived at the hotel. Jasmine and Cameron were able to get inside seconds before fat raindrops hit the ground. She followed him into the private elevator that took them to his suite. Jasmine continued to marvel that Cameron seemed totally unaffected by the priceless furnishings in his suite. He turned and smiled at her, as she resisted the urge to stare at his strong tanned legs in the shorts.
“I ordered a fruit plate for you, along with bottled water. Let me know if you want anything else.”
Jasmine slowly shook her head. “That’s fine. Thank you.”
Vertical lines appeared between Cameron’s eyes when he frowned. “There’s no need to thank me, Jasmine. I’d take care of you even if you weren’t carrying my baby.”
“You really want this baby, don’t you?” she asked.
His frown deepened. “Why wouldn’t I? Even though I didn’t plan to become a father, I’m willing to take responsible for getting you pregnant. I told you before I’ve never slept with a woman without using protection and, to quote you, it must be destiny that brought us together.” His eyes turned a cold steel-gray. “Does that answer your question?”
Jasmine tilted her chin in a defiant gesture. “I suppose it does.”
She didn’t want Cameron to pledge his future to her because of the baby, but for her. Her feelings for Cameron had changed and she found herself snared in a trap of her own emotions. He was everything she wanted in a man with whom she wanted to spend the rest of her life. He wore his masculinity like a badge of honor, while at the same time exuding a gentle strength she found so endearing. When Hannah accused him of being a womanizer, Jasmine had quickly come to his defense. She hadn’t realized at that time she was falling in love with the man who had changed not only her life but her destiny.
When Hannah broached the subject of turning DuPont House into DuPont Inn, Jasmine had turned down her offer to become an innkeeper. Not wanting to leave her parents and/or sell her condo, which represented her first taste of total independence, had become the deciding factors. Now she had no excuse with her mother and father relocating to North Carolina and the possibility of her cousin moving downstate from Buffalo. When she last spoke to her cousin, Amelia said she was going to move to New York City even if she hadn’t secured a position with a firm; that she was willing to accept a position as an assistant DA or as a public defender as long as she could practice law.
Amelia had begun packing up her apartment, selling off what she didn’t want and putting most of her personal items in storage. She had also notified building management by certified mail that she would not renew her lease, which would expire at the end of July.
“Your food should be here shortly.”
A hint of a smile curved Jasmine’s mouth. “Are you going to join me?”
“No. I’m going to wait until we have dinner downstairs in one of the private dining rooms.”
“If that’s the case, then I’m going to wash my hands.”
Turning on her heel she headed for the bathroom. Jasmine stared at her reflection in the mirror over the double sink, unable to see the changes Hannah and Tonya had spoken of. Her face wasn’t any fuller and her eyes looked the same. Maybe they noticed things she wasn’t able to see because both had experienced their own pregnancies.
Other than the occasional nausea, fatigue, and tenderness in her breasts, Jasmine did not feel pregnant. One of the books she bought contained a journal for trimesters and a schedule for her to chart her pregnancy weight gain at each prenatal appointment in four-week intervals until her sixth month. Thereafter it would be every two weeks for the seventh and eighth months; and then every week during her ninth month.
What she didn’t want to think about was being pregnant in the summer in New Orleans with the heat and humidity. Exercise was emphasized and Jasmine knew walking outdoors was not an option. St. John had an in-home gym but she didn’t want to impose on him to work out in his home. She dried her hands and returned to the living room where Cameron had uncovered a plate of sliced fruit and whole grain crackers on the dining area table. The table was set with flatware and serving pieces, small plates, glasses, and bottled water.
