Desire September 2017 Books 1 -4. Yvonne Lindsay

love, not war. Wasn’t that a phrase from days past? His mother used to say it. Not that it had gotten her far. Her inability to go to war against his father had turned her life into endless days of drudgery—until Royce had stepped in to change that.

      Royce opened the door to his penthouse to allow Jasmine inside. Her heels clicked on the glossy black tile. She breathed deep. “Something smells incredible,” she said. Her slight smile intrigued him.

      Was she nervous?

      When she swallowed, it confirmed his suspicions, though he had to look hard to notice. “You weren’t kidding that you could cook,” she said.

      “I just need to finish a few last-minute things. You aren’t averse to any particular seafood, are you?”

      She shook her head, bringing his attention to the thick dark hair swinging around her shoulders.

      “That’s good, or else this would be a complete disaster,” he said with a laugh that seemed to break the unexpected tension between them. “I’m finishing up some shrimp scampi. The sides and salad are ready. But I wimped out on the dessert.”

      “Not you,” Jasmine mocked in her sassy way.

      “I’m not a pastry chef. I figured since we didn’t make it to dessert the other day, I’d go by Marco’s and pick up a praline cheesecake.”

      The O of her mouth was encouraging—and sexy as hell. “Sounds awesome,” she said. “But I’m surprised you would admit you can’t cook everything.”

      “I realized a long time ago that there was no point in pretending to be something I’m not.”

      Her delectable body went still for mere seconds, but Royce caught it. He should have expected a question to follow.

      “Was it a problem? Early on?”

      He waved her farther into the living area as thoughts swirled through his mind. He watched her take in the comfortably luxurious space. Royce had never wanted to live in a showplace. A few designers had tried to convince him otherwise, but eventually he’d found someone who understood his preferences. The magnificent space was in one of Savannah’s formerly dilapidated shipping warehouses, now refurbished for people who could afford the best—although his “best” meant an awesome sound system, overstuffed leather furniture and a magnificent view. Not high-priced works of art and anemic, uncomfortable chairs.

      Jasmine seemed to agree. “Wow,” she breathed as she approached the wall of windows looking out toward downtown and the river.

      The architect had pushed out the walls so the floor extended all the way to the stone arches that used to frame an old balcony for ship watching. The arches were now fitted with glass panes for an extended view from inside the unusual room.

      “This is an incredible blend of old and new,” she said. “I’m very impressed.”

      “It’s relaxing when I finally make it home at night.”

      The black mirrored tile from the foyer gave way to glossy wood floors in the living areas. Royce walked over to the bar in the far corner. “Having you here gives me a chance to use the bar. I hardly ever have company.”

      He fixed the martini she requested while she strolled along the long wall of windows, skirted the corner bar and continued along the shorter wall. “Incredible.”

      “Thank you.”

      “And thank you for inviting me here.” This time her look was more straightforward, promising.

      Royce felt his insides heat up. “Well, thanks to you, I’m learning to mix business with pleasure.”

      She lifted the martini glass in salute. “Me, too.”

      If he let this go much farther, dinner would be burned beyond recognition. “I’d better finish up the food.”

      As he turned away, he heard her footsteps behind him. “Mind if I join you?”

      He paused, giving her a chance to catch up. “Please feel free.”

      As they walked down a short corridor and into his designer kitchen, he had to chuckle.

      “What’s so funny?” she asked.

      “I just realized.” He paused, then let a long, slow breath ease out, surprised he was admitting this. “I just realized that, besides my mother and the cleaning lady, you are the first person to ever join me in my kitchen.”

      “Wow. Really?”

      He watched as her blue gaze roamed over the mahogany cabinets with their black hardware, the cream ceramic appliances and the black tile on the walls. She made a beeline for the stools on the other side of the kitchen island. The large room was designed for social gatherings, but Royce had never used it as such.

      “Yes,” he murmured. “Really.”

      But what was even odder was how comfortable he felt with her in his space, if comfortable was even the word to describe the electrical connection that continued to surprise him.

      But it wasn’t the only thing that surprised him. He was also bemused by how completely at ease they were with each other. They ended up eating at the island in the kitchen, seated across from each other on stools. Her eyes sparkled just as much as her wineglass under the lights. Their conversation flowed naturally from the upcoming masquerade to other events they’d attended.

      After exclaiming over the food with genuine enthusiasm, Jasmine took her wineglass and wandered back down the hallway to the living room. Night had taken full hold. The mature trees below and the climbing ivy overflowing the outer walls onto the windowsills gave the impression of being protected by nature as they looked onto the lights spread out before them. Savannah was a city of hard brick and lush greenery. “It really is beautiful, Royce.” She half turned toward him. “I can’t believe your mother loved the manor house more.”

      “She did enjoy the view here, but I think Keller House made her think of a time when she was happier, when life had possibilities.”

      Jasmine was nice enough to add, “But in the end, she was left with the knowledge that she had raised a fully capable young man who would take care of himself and her.”

      He glanced down into his glass, feeling a familiar mixture of sadness and pride. “She didn’t have to worry anymore.”

      Suddenly he felt a brush of warmth on his arm. Through his dress shirt, he could feel the outline of Jasmine’s hand. He couldn’t count the number of times recently he had dreamed of how soft her skin would be against his. How those perfectly manicured nails would feel against his back. Or how the curves of her body would feel pressed against his.

      She was offering comfort. He needed to remind himself of that.

      Then she stepped closer. Any effort at restraint became exponentially harder. He allowed himself a glance, only to find her gaze locked on him. And it wasn’t overflowing with sympathy. With just one look they both knew exactly where this was headed. “Will you stay the night?” he finally asked.

      “Do you really need to ask?”

      That amused him. “Sweetheart, with you I never assume anything.”

      Her smile was a concession to everything they’d been through so far. “Then let me make myself plain. Assume all you want.”

      * * *

      Royce may have been cautious about getting to a more intimate stage, but when the time came, Jasmine found he was as focused in the bedroom as he was in the boardroom.

      One minute they were facing each other, then he took a few purposeful steps to bring her within reach. She barely had time to blink before Royce’s hand was in her hair and his mouth once more covered hers. The heat that she remembered from their first kiss was there, this time underpinned by a purpose that made her insides melt.

      He tasted spicy, which ramped up the temperature inside