Desire September 2017 Books 1 -4. Yvonne Lindsay

      She didn’t know the half of it. “That’s mild, for him. When he bothers to acknowledge me at all, he’s usually pretty nasty.”

      “But isn’t he married?”

      “To one of the coldest women in the world,” he murmured. “But that was a while after my mother had broken contact with him.”

      “How did your mother manage?” Jasmine whispered, her voice full of empathy.

      “When she didn’t get rid of me like he wanted, it took her a long time to find more work. But when she did, she worked her fingers to the bone, because the bastard made sure she couldn’t get a judge in the county to award her child support.”

      Jasmine closed her eyes tightly, shaking her head. When she opened them, he noticed the glossy sheen of tears.

      Were they for him? No one but his mother had ever shed a tear over the way he’d been treated.

      “I’d like to say it surprises me,” Jasmine said, “but I’ve seen it often enough at the mission. Dads who simply couldn’t care less about a child out in the world with their DNA. Men who would have preferred for them to die than take on any obligation in their own lives.”

      Oh, how well he knew that type.

      She leaned back, studying him. He wasn’t sure when she’d stopped touching his hand, but he felt the loss of contact keenly. “I’m not really upset about me,” he said, waving the thought away as if it were a particle of dust in the air. “It’s more about my mom. What she was left to deal with.”

      “That’s why she left you, isn’t it?”

      He glanced over her shoulder instead of looking into her eyes and seeing the knowledge there. He nodded. “She had to work a lot to keep us afloat.”

      “And you made it up to her.”

      Royce sat a little straighter. “I did. She loved that house. She used to work there when she first started.” He could remember long stories she would tell about the few parties she’d helped serve at, then caring for the house until it was closed. “I wanted her to be in a place she loved, so I bought it for her.”

      Jasmine covered his hand with hers once more. “That’s wonderful, Royce.”

      “It’s what she deserved after all of her sacrifices for me. By damn, I was going to give it to her.” He let a little smile slip out. “She was happy.”

      “She never fell in love again?” Jasmine asked. “Never wanted to have more children?”

      “When would she have had the time? Nope. She loved me, but she wanted no more children to complicate her life. And I’ll never have children, either.”

      Jasmine didn’t draw up in shocked outrage the way he might have expected. She simply asked, “Why not?”

      “I’ve made my choice. Business is a demanding mistress. I refuse to do both.”

      She pressed her lips together for a moment before letting herself speak. “It’s a shame. You were good with Rosie.”

      “Raising a child is a lot different than holding one for thirty minutes.”

      She smiled, though there was a hint of sadness around the edges. “I’m learning that all too well. My mother died, too, when I was fifteen.”

      He’d gotten that impression but never asked the details.

      “Both of my parents, actually. They were killed in an automobile accident.” She absently ran her finger around the edge of her cup. “We came to live with Auntie. She took all three of us in when we had no other place to go. No other relatives. Not even distant ones.”

      “That’s a big responsibility.”

      “Auntie said something to me then. Something I’ve never forgotten, even though I didn’t fully embrace it at the time.”

      “What’s that?”

      “That children aren’t everyone’s cup of tea.”

      It made sense, especially to Royce.

      Jasmine wasn’t done, though. That sad smile returned as she added, “But some people should learn to be tea drinkers.”

       Nine

      “I really don’t see why we need to do this,” Royce said as Jasmine approached over the cracked and broken sidewalk. “It’s not necessary.”

      And here she thought she’d loosened him up a little. Especially after the surprisingly personal meeting at the coffee shop a few days ago. Of course, the way he’d conceded the design choices with a curt “You know better than I” should have reminded her he didn’t want a say in everything.

      “It’s not necessary to educate yourself about the charity you are promoting with your big-ticket event?”

      “I told you the charity was your choice.”

      She could just get right to the point, but why not enjoy teasing him for a minute? “What’s the big deal? So you spend a few hours down here on a Saturday. What else are you gonna do? Work?”

      They shared a look, his blue eyes narrowing as if he was contemplating retribution for her sarcasm.

      “Just consider this part of your job,” she said. “Trust me, I’ve been to dozens of these charity events. You’re gonna get asked lots of questions about City Sanctuary mission. Do you want to appear ignorant?”

      “I could refer them to you.”

      “And still appear ignorant. Especially to the Jeffersons.”

      He grimaced, probably because he knew she was right. “It should be enough that I’m donating money.”

      “Don’t sulk, Scrooge. You just might enjoy yourself.”

      His eyes widened just a notch at her tone, but she ignored it and headed for the entrance. The parking area was hidden from view of the building by a tall retaining wall that supported the elevated ground the original church had been built upon. Excitement filled her as they made their way to the break in the wall for the stairs leading to the lawn. There she caught the first glimpse of the ancient stone chapel. Though the additions made to the compound over the years didn’t entirely match the architecture of the original building, which had stood since just a few decades after Savannah was founded, they didn’t detract from the atmosphere, either.

      Jasmine followed the gravel path with ease, having developed a familiarity with the place after years of volunteering here. She greeted the regulars as they passed.

      She’d always felt safe here. The mission’s destitute clients had never scared her. She’d experienced more fear among Savannah’s elite, to be honest.

      Everyone she greeted along the way to the entrance followed the same pattern: a smile and hello for her, then a quick suspicious glance at the man behind her. Strangers to the mission were often regarded that way, at first, but this was probably enhanced because she’d never been here with a man. Usually she was alone; only occasionally did she visit with her sisters.

      They entered through the main registration lobby, where Jasmine paused. “This is the area where most public traffic comes in,” she said. “Overnight guests are assigned their spaces, and those who need other services are directed to the areas or personnel they need.”

      She waved to the couple who usually handled the front lobby on Saturdays, then led Royce to the first large hallway. “The building was originally a church, and has been added to over the years. This makes it a little confusing for newcomers.” She gestured to the left. “There are offices down here. A couple of classrooms where we hold seminars or tutoring. And there’s a closet at the far end where we store used clothing to hand