A Sin and a Shame (16 page)

His smile returned. “Tell me about her.”

She gave him the details of Serena, staying as close to the truth as she could, knowing one day they would meet.

“I’ve always wanted a brother, or a sister. I think that’s why I really want to have children now. Lots of them.”

Jasmine kept her smile, although his words almost made her choke on her cider. Lots of children? At her age, she wasn’t even sure she’d be able to get pregnant at all. But even if she was able to have a child, she had no intentions of having more than one. Today was her fortieth birthday. How many children did he expect her to pop out?

“So, Serena’s been married, but what about you?” he asked, after the waiter had brought their dinners. “Why weren’t you ever married?” He paused. “Or were you?”

She stuffed her mouth with her pasta and chewed slowly. She hadn’t expected this question, wasn’t ready with the answer. She scrolled through all she knew about Hosea. If she was going to be his wife, there could be only one answer.

“I don’t know why I’ve never been married,” she lied. “I guess I’m just waiting on God.”

His smile told her that she’d scored one hundred points. “That’s the only way to do it.” He squeezed her hand.

Her mouth opened wide when the waiter surprised her with a piece of raspberry cheesecake holding a single candle in the middle.

“Now, I know a man isn’t supposed to ask,” Hosea started as he took a bite of the dessert, “but—”

“I know you’re not asking me how old I am?” she interrupted, placing her hand over her chest in mock indignation.

He nodded. “Although it doesn’t matter to me. You could be one hundred, and I’d still ask you out to dinner tomorrow.”

She smiled because she was ready. She’d been expecting this question. “I’m…thirty-five…today.”

“An older woman.”

She kept her smile although her heart began to pound. Had she gone too high? She’d almost said thirty-two, but thirty-five would be easier to keep track of. “So how old are you?”

“Thirty-three.”

Close enough,
she thought.

He asked, “Does my age bother you?”

She shook her head and took his hand. “Not at all. If you were one hundred and asked me to have dinner with you tomorrow, I’d say yes.”

He laughed. “So, who’s older, you or Serena?”

That was not a question she expected. At thirty-five, she and Serena were the same age. She couldn’t say they were twins.

“Uh,” she hesitated. “I’m older,” she said deciding to keep at least that part true.

“Are you two close?”

“Yeah, Serena’s a great sister. She’s always looking out for me.”

“Is that why you left L.A.? To be closer to her?”

The memory of her escape from L.A. tore through her mind. “Something like that,” she said. “But I wanted to ask you something about the museum,” she added, needing to get away from talk of Los Angeles. “I was on the board of the Cultural Arts of Florida, and I’d like to become involved here in New York.”

“Really, darlin’, that’s wonderful.”

Jasmine had no idea if there was a Cultural Arts of Florida, but it worked. Hosea chatted, and she nodded as if she was listening, but her mind was far away.

This day, and night, proved it. She was going after the right man. Hosea knew how to live. Knew how to play. This was the life she wanted. And the way Hosea looked at her in between his words confirmed that she was on her way.

B
y the time the
first employees sauntered into Kincaid Enterprises, Jasmine had been working for three hours. She’d just approved the final menu when Malik strolled into her office and closed the door.

“Hey,” she said, not able to hide her joy. It had stayed with her, even after Hosea ended their spectacular night by escorting her to the elevator, handing her a single white rose, kissing her cheek, and promising to call first thing the next day. She’d floated into her apartment, then the ringing telephone had brought her out of her fairy tale.

“It’s first thing tomorrow,” Hosea said the moment she answered. She’d glanced at the clock. It was midnight. He continued, “Just wanted to tell you how wonderful this night was for me.” He hung up before she spoke a word.

Memories of the night rocked her to sleep, and were still with her when she awakened before the sun made its debut. With an energy that she hadn’t had in months, she jumped from her bed and rushed into the office.

“Looks like you’ve recovered,” Malik said, before he lowered himself into a chair.

Jasmine frowned.

He said, “Last time I saw you, you were buckled over in pain. I think you said it was your stomach.”

“Oh.” She’d forgotten. Last Thursday, Los Angeles, Brian, all seemed like light years in the past.

“So, what’s up?” Malik asked.

Jasmine looked at the pile of folders on her desk. “I’m catching up on everything—”

Malik held up his hand. “Not talking about work. Talking about how you’re feeling. You told me you were sick in L.A., remember?”

“Oh, that. It turned out to be…nothing.”

“I guess that’s why you rode off with Brian Lewis.”

Her eyes widened, and all the possible lies she could tell jogged through her mind.

“Don’t bother denying it. J.T. saw you.”

“Brian gave me a ride to the hotel,” she said, trying to keep a smile.

“Just dropped you off?”

“Yes.”

“So, why did I see him stepping out of your room in the middle of the night?”

She wanted to tell him that he hadn’t seen what he saw. But she didn’t feel like going through that line of dialogue.

“Jasmine,” Malik said leaning forward. “Brian Lewis is married.”

She stayed silent.

“And don’t tell me you didn’t know. J.T. told me you’ve known Brian—and his wife—for years.”

Her first thought was that it had to be a man who spread the rumor that women were gossips. Because J.T. was better at this than any woman she knew. Her second thought was to ask Malik why he was all up in her business. But the sensation of cotton balls stuffed inside her mouth kept her from speaking.

“Jasmine, I thought you were past this. You’re always saying that married men are not an option for you.”

“You’re right,” she said contritely.

His face spread with surprise as if that was not the response he expected.

“Malik, I didn’t plan that. It just happened. But I can promise nothing will happen with me and Brian again.”

He twisted his lips in doubt.

“I mean it, Malik,” she said with as much sincerity as she could. “I’ve met someone and I’m not willing to risk this relationship.”

It took a moment, but he exhaled. And smiled. “Okay.” He paused. “So, who’s this new guy?”

She waited a beat. “Hosea Bush.”

His smile was gone. “Oh, no, Jasmine,” he groaned.

“Malik, this is real.”

“How can this be real? Last week you were in love with Hosea’s father.”

“I wasn’t really in love.”

“I
know that. But I couldn’t convince you of it.”

“Look, you were right and I was wrong.”

“And now you’re wrong about Hosea Bush.”

“I’m not. Malik, when I met Hosea, I didn’t have any idea who he was. I like him because of him.”

“He’s not even your type.”

“You don’t know my type,” she said, trying to hold back her anger. “And anyway, I’m not doing the pursuing. He came after me.”

Malik stared before he asked, “What can I say to get you to drop this?”

“Nothing.”

He exhaled a long breath.

Jasmine said, “Malik, Hosea is different. That’s why I know nothing will happen with me and Brian again.”

He rolled his eyes and she could imagine his thoughts: Reverend Bush, Brian Lewis, Hosea Bush. If she were outside looking in, she’d be thinking the same thing. But she knew her heart. It wasn’t that she was in love, but she was certainly—after yesterday—in deep like. And her heart was open to much more.

He sighed. “I hope you know what you’re doing.”

“I do.”

“I don’t want you to get hurt.”

“I won’t.”

He stood. “I made a promise to your dad that I would take care of you. That’s all I’m trying to do.”

“I appreciate that.”

“You’re a hard one.”

“I’m not trying to be.”

He left her office without another word.

Alone, she exhaled. It was careless, the way she’d handled Brian. But it was certainly a great warning. If Malik could find out, then one day, Hosea could too. There would be no more risks. From now on she had two missions: Hosea and Rio. And both missions would be accomplished.

J
asmine felt like a
five-year-old.

She stomped into her apartment, threw her purse onto the floor, kicked off her shoes and tossed them across the room.

“This isn’t working,” she screamed and punched one of the pillows.

She didn’t remember a time when she couldn’t get a man to do what she wanted. But Hosea wasn’t susceptible to her womanly wiles. He was moving this relationship forward his way, like this was his plan.

From the outside, it looked like the two were in the center of a whirlwind romance. For the last four weeks, even though Hosea’s schedule in preparation for his September premiere was as frenzied as hers, he always found moments to steal her away for quick lunches, romantic dinners, or just strolls through Tribeca, SoHo, and Harlem.

Even in those in-between moments when they couldn’t spend time together, Jasmine had no doubt that she was close to his heart. He showed her, through the single rose that waited at her door when she returned home from work at midnight. Or by the voice-mail messages that were on her machine before she even arrived at the office. Or even with the lunches that he had the caterers from his set deliver when he suspected she wouldn’t take time for a break.

And then today, he’d shared one of his favorite Sunday adventures with her.

“New York street fairs are the absolute best,” he’d told her. “You’re going to love it.”

So, after church this morning, she’d rushed home, jumped into jeans, and then they’d spent hours wandering up and down thirty blocks on Second Avenue, browsing through old books, tasting a bit of every kind of food, shooting hoops, and shaking their heads at the long lines that had gathered around the psychics. They laughed at the street clowns entertaining the children. They cheered as young performers sang and danced across the center stage.

To her, today had been one of their best times together—until the cab that carried them home stopped in front of her apartment.

“Hang here, chief,” Hosea said to the cab driver. “I’ll just be a couple of minutes.”

“Fine, but the meter will keep running.”

When they were standing on the curb, Jasmine put her arms around Hosea. “I had a great time, just like I always do with you.”

“Glad to hear that, darlin’. But let me get you inside before I have a forty-dollar fare.” He nodded toward the cab and laughed.

She dropped her hands to her side. Stood straight, as if her stance would help. “I want you to send him away,” she whispered. “And then…come upstairs with me.”

First, he stared. Then, he sighed. And she was reminded just how many times she’d extended—and he’d declined—this invitation.

“Why do we have to talk about this again?” he asked.

Annoyance was in his tone, but she didn’t care. Her irritation was far beyond his.

Jasmine said. “Aren’t you attracted to me at all?”

He rolled his eyes. “What do you think? I’m not blind.” Although he lowered his voice, he stayed stern. “But this is not just about me. This is about you and me and the way God wants us to live.”

She took a breath to stop from screaming that she was sick of God being his excuse. The Lord couldn’t possibly expect celibacy from grown folks in today’s times.

But she’d told him all of that before. Tonight, she was ready with new ammunition. “Okay, I understand your view, but what about the other side?” She took his hand and led him away from the blare of the passing traffic. “Aren’t you curious? What if we’re not compatible?”

He frowned. “Not compatible? We’ve spent almost every day together. We’re compatible.”

“I’m talking…sexually.” She’d lowered her voice, even though there were few passing pedestrians. “Suppose we go through all of this and then we’re not compatible in bed.”

He’d kept his voice as soft as hers. Placed his hands on her shoulders. “If we believe God and trust Him, and if He tells us we’re supposed to be together, then He’ll make sure that we’re compatible in every way. God knows what He’s doing. He doesn’t make mistakes, Jasmine.”

“Hey, buddy, are you coming?” the cab driver called.

“Yeah.” He turned back; kissed her cheek. “Trust me, Jasmine. You’re going to see that I’m right.”

He dashed to the cab, and she had smiled when he waved. But in her head, she’d called him a fool.

Now, as she sat in her apartment, she wondered what she was going to do. This was why sex was so important. If she had bedded him by now, she’d be picking out linen and selecting a china pattern. But with Hosea, no sex meant he had the power.

She stood and walked to the window. To this point, her plan was flawless. He was falling for her; he’d told her so many times. Neither had used the L word, but she knew even that wasn’t too far away.

It was an ideal relationship—except she needed sex. She needed the release. She needed the control.

Somehow, some way, she was going to get Hosea into bed. Because if she didn’t, no one could ever hold her responsible for what this madness might make her do.