“Just water please.”
Leighton’s laser-blue eyes seemed to go through Jasmine when he stared at her. “Are you certain you don’t want anything stronger?”
Jasmine met his direct stare. “I am very certain.”
“Water it is.” Leighton opened a bottle of water, emptied it into a glass, and handed it to Jasmine.
“Thank you.”
He executed a mock-bow. “You’re welcome.”
“Cameron, I hope you don’t mind if I steal your fiancée for a few minutes before we go in and sit down for dinner,” Belinda said.
Jasmine met Cameron’s eyes. “It’s not up to me, Mom. You’ll have to ask Jasmine.”
Belinda lifted her eyebrows questioningly. “Jasmine?”
“Of course.” She followed Cameron’s mother out of the parlor and down a hallway to a room off the formal dining room.
When Cameron drove along the road leading to his parents’ home, Jasmine did not know what to expect but when the Regency-style house came into view it literally had taken her breath away. Her practiced eye took in the first-story tall windows, the columns holding up the second-story portico over the front door, and the many shuttered upstairs windows. Cameron hadn’t exhibited the spoiled rich-boy attitude but there were occasions when he’d shown signs of a sense of entitlement.
There was no doubt he’d grown up without having to concern himself with securing student loans to pay for college, or working days and attending classes at night because there was no money for him to attend full time. He’d left New Orleans, enrolled in an Ivy League university, shared an apartment with another student, and had enough money on which to live and socialize with friends. Madison had referred to the Singletons as pseudo royalty and suddenly Jasmine knew why. Like the DuPonts, the Singletons were on the Crescent City’s social register.
Belinda pointed to a brocade loveseat. “Please sit down, Jasmine.”
“You first, Mrs. Singleton.”
A slight smile parted Belinda’s lips. “Thank you, dear. If you’re going to become my daughter-in-law, then I insist you call me Belinda. Right now there are too many Mrs. Singletons to differentiate who’s who.”
“What do you want to know, Belinda?” Jasmine had decided to take the lead in the conversation to make the older woman aware that she had no intention of being intimidated.
Belinda’s smile vanished. “My, aren’t you direct.”
“I meant no disrespect. I find being direct is necessary to avoid misunderstandings.”
There was a barely perceptible nod from Belinda as she smoothed down her white linen blouse over the waistband of a pair of matching slacks. “I believe you and I are going to get along very well. How long have you known my son?”
Jasmine was more than prepared for the interrogation. “We met last October when I came here for Hannah DuPont’s wedding.”
“How well do you know Hannah?”
“Very well. I was in Hannah’s wedding party.”
“Nathan and I had received invitations to her wedding to that brilliant, handsome college professor, but we were unable to attend because I was still recovering from a bout of pneumonia. Back to you and Cameron. So, you’ve been dating?”
“We have.”
“I’m surprised none of us heard that he was seeing someone new. The last time someone told me they’d seen him with a woman was around maybe Halloween. Then nothing after that.” Belinda paused. “I know you must think I’m a nosey old lady, but I’d like to know a little bit about the woman who’s managed to do what so many others weren’t able to do—and that is to get Cameron to marry her.”
“We’re engaged, not married.”
“Have you set a date?”
Jasmine shook her head. “Not yet.”
“Why are you waiting?”
“You’ll have to ask your son, Belinda.”
