Stop Me (25 page)

“Peace on earth, goodwill toward men,” she said and clinked her glass against Romain’s.

His mouth twisted into a wry grin, then he downed his wine and went back to his meal.

Tom watched this interplay over the rim of his own wineglass. “It’s good to see you with a woman again, Romain.”

“Thank you, Tom,” Romain said. “And I know she’s pretty.” He winked. “No need to mention it again.”

“She is pretty,” he agreed. “Not like Pam at all, though.” 148

Susan didn’t say anything, but Alicia cleared her throat and murmured Tom’s name in a warning tone.

“What? I can’t talk about Pam? I knew her, too. She was my sister-in-law,” he said, but then he waved toward Jasmine and changed the subject as if he wanted to avoid any further conflict. “So what did you do? Pick a random spot on the map and say ‘I want to go there’?” Another thought seemed to occur to him. “Or…maybe you needed to get away. Are you running from a bad breakup or an abusive husband?” Jasmine choked down the bread she’d just bitten off. “No. I’d heard a lot about the beauty of the bayous and decided to see them for myself.”

“And what do you think?” It was Romain, Sr. He had a firm grip on his knife and fork as if tempted to use them for more than cutting meat, but his voice remained as calm as ever.

“I like it here.” And that was the truth, a truth largely inspired by those few moments when she’d first opened her eyes this morning and found Romain’s large, warm body wrapped around hers. She knew she’d never forget the pale winter sunlight as it streamed through his window, or the chorus of rain outside. “But the thought of alligators makes me a little nervous,” she admitted.

Romain, Sr. spoke up. “Alligators won’t hurt you. They’re generally not aggressive.”

“That’s what people keep telling me, but it’d only take one bite to ruin my day,” she said with a laugh.

Susan broke out of the morose silence into which she’d fallen. “How’d your parents meet, Jasmine?”

Jasmine didn’t want to talk about her parents any more than her reason for coming to Louisiana, but it seemed the safest alternative at the moment. At least she wouldn’t have to lie. “They went to college together.”

“You said your mother was an immigrant?”

“She came from India with her parents when she was fifteen. But her parents returned shortly after I was born so I don’t know them all that well.”

“She’s Hindu?” Tom asked.

“Yes. Nearly eighty percent of India is Hindu.”

“But only a small number of people in America are,” Susan said. “Was your father religious?”

“Actually, he was. I don’t think he is anymore, though.”

“Hindu?”

“Christian.”

Tom poured himself more wine, after which Romain, Sr. not so subtly moved the bottle away from him. “What does that make you?” Following Kimberly’s disappearance, Jasmine had gone through a period of confusion. Her mother was adamant that she’d lose her salvation if she didn’t 149

embrace Hinduism, and her father was equally adamant that she’d go to hell if she didn’t remain a Christian. She was hoping there was some place reserved for people like her, who felt torn and couldn’t decide if one way was any better than the other.

“I guess my beliefs are sort of a blending of the two.”

“So Christmas doesn’t have much meaning for you.” Tom probably felt as if he’d solved the riddle of her presence at their table. It was merely another day, another meal.

But that wasn’t true at all. As much as she might deny it, Christmas meant a great deal to Jasmine. It always had. But she’d learned to downplay the family aspect so she wouldn’t be disappointed when her holiday experience was so different from everyone else’s.

She searched for a way to explain without making herself seem pathetic but couldn’t find the words. More than she ever had before, she missed the unity her family had once known. It was a poignant ache in her chest. Prior to Kimberly’s disappearance, she’d been on solid ground emotionally, but had struggled to regain her footing ever since. The abduction had robbed her of a sister she loved and split her family apart more ruthlessly than a hatchet.

The tears that sprang to her eyes came suddenly. She didn’t want to be here with these strangers. She wanted to have Christmas dinner with her family. But that family was dead and gone. That family would never be the same, could never be the same, even on Christmas.

“If you’ll excuse me, I’ve got…something in my eye.” She left the table, walking calmly until she cleared the doorway. Then, when they could no longer see her, she fled to the bathroom, locked herself in and sagged against the door.

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The knock came far sooner than Jasmine expected. She’d thought the Forniers might give her a few minutes to herself. No such luck. They probably wanted to quiz her on what had caused her parents’ divorce or if and when she and Romain had made love. They couldn’t simply mind their business and leave her alone, could they? That was too much to ask.

She ignored the first knock. But another came right after it. “Jasmine?” It was Romain. She was tempted to tell him to go away. She needed to pull herself together and paste another smile on her face. But she was even more tempted to tell him off for bringing her here. With that thought in mind, she wiped her tears, unlocked the door and let him in.

“Are you okay?” he asked, closing the door behind him.

“You have a screwed-up family,” she said.

He studied her for a moment. “I’m not going to disagree. But…are you sure this is about my family?”

She wanted to avoid that—it was too much of a direct hit. “Why didn’t you stop them?” she whispered harshly.

“From what?”

“From drilling me!”

“Those are the types of questions people ask every day, Jasmine. ‘Where are you from? What do you do? What do your parents do?’ It’s called getting to know someone.”

“They don’t need to know me!”

“I wanted to hear what you had to say as much as they did. Is that so terrible?”

“You wanted to hear me lie about my reason for being here?” He shoved a hand through his hair. “Not that. The other stuff.”

“What’s the point?”

He stared at her without answering.

“Well?” she prompted.

“I know you practically purr when I hum in your ear, that you have a different smile when I tell you how beautiful you are—one that says you like hearing it but can’t quite believe it. I know you would’ve enjoyed that motorcycle ride if you 151

weren’t so busy trying not to enjoy it. And I’ll never forget the heavy-lidded look you get right before you—”

“Stop.” She raised a hand. Her heart was already racing. “You don’t know anything about me, Romain. Not really.”

“Exactly. I know things about you almost no one else does. And yet I don’t know why you left your husband, or why you don’t want to see your father, or why talking about Christmas makes you cry.”

“Because those aren’t the kinds of subjects discussed in a superficial relationship!”

He took her hands and stroked her knuckles. “I already told you I’m sorry about what I said this morning.”

Although she could tell he wasn’t accustomed to offering apologies, he seemed so sincere it was hard not to forgive him. But that was the problem with people like Romain. Sometimes they were moody, even hurtful; other times they were too charming to resist.

Besides, she couldn’t forgive him or she’d get involved with him again. “As far as I’m concerned, we can be friends. I’m not holding a grudge,” she lied.

“Maybe you could say that like you mean it.” The boyish smile he gave her begged her to do just that—and nearly destroyed her determination.

“I thought last night was incredible, okay? I’ve never experienced anything like it. The way I wanted you. The way you touched me—”

“Now we’re getting somewhere,” he said and she couldn’t help laughing.

“I’m not finished. I liked what happened, but it scared the hell out of you, made you want to shut me out. Fine. No problem. I’m willing to let it go. I didn’t come to Louisiana to get involved with you or anyone else. Just tell me, considering all that, why I’m at your parents’ house for dinner!” He caught her chin, tilting her head so she had to meet his eyes. “You’re here because I knew I’d never see you again if I let you go.” She blinked, stunned by the admission. “Isn’t that what you want?”

“No.”

“But, in a way, you hate me.”

“I don’t hate you,” he said.

“You don’t like me, either.”

“I don’t like anyone right now, even myself.” He ran a thumb over her lower lip, and every nerve in her body began to tingle, to crave his touch. “But I want you,” he said, his voice dropping to barely above hoarse. “No confusion about that.” When he kissed her, she told herself to pull away, to end it immediately, but that was the last thing she wanted to do. She kept telling herself, “One more second…only one more second,” until her arms were around his neck and they were plastered together, kissing as passionately as if they hadn’t made love twice already.

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“T-Bone?”

It was his mother’s voice that finally broke them apart. Fortunately, Alicia was calling him from down the hall, not right outside the door.

“Just for the record, I don’t like you, either,” Jasmine whispered, breathing heavily. She could’ve clarified that she didn’t like his effect on her, but she was more comfortable leaving the statement as it stood.

“I’d still take you right here in my parents’ bathroom if I thought I could get away with it,” he said and walked out.

Jasmine spent the rest of the meal, and the cleanup that followed, trying to avoid any contact with Romain. Conversing with Tom and Susan wasn’t exactly enjoyable, but Jasmine really liked Alicia and Romain, Sr., and Susan’s kids were adorable. They gave her something to focus on, something that didn’t cause a tidal wave of inexplicable emotion—with raw desire at one end and fear of making a life-changing mistake at the other. She hoped Romain’s family hadn’t noticed the tension between them, but she knew Susan, at least, was watching them too closely to miss it.

After the dishes were done, Jasmine decided to make a few phone calls before dessert. Although she rarely spent Christmas with either of her parents, she felt obligated to wish them a merry Christmas. And Skye and Sheridan would be wondering why they hadn’t heard from her.

“Is there a phone I could use to make a few long-distance calls?” she asked Alicia as she hung up the dish towel she’d been using to dry the dinner plates.

“Someone stole my purse yesterday, so I can’t cover the charges up front, but I promise I’ll send you a check before the bill arrives.” Alicia slipped an arm around her shoulders and gave her a gentle squeeze.

“I’m not worried about the bill, honey. I’ll show you to my husband’s den, where you’ll have more privacy.”

Romain was watching a football game with his father. Jasmine stuck her head in the room and explained that she’d be on the phone, then followed his mother down the hall.

Alicia led her to an office where there was a desk, two old but comfortable-looking chairs with a small table between them, and row upon row of books lining one wall.

“You can use that phone there.” Romain’s mother pointed at the desk. “I’ll let you know when we’re having dessert.”

“Thanks.”

Alicia started out of the room but turned back at the door. “I’m so pleased to see my son with such a nice woman.”

Jasmine understood what she meant. She was tired of watching Romain suffer and was grateful to see him display some interest in regular life. She probably hoped 153

that Jasmine’s presence marked the beginning of a complete turnaround. But that only made Jasmine feel worse about the lies she’d told. The hope she was giving this woman was false. If anything, she was pulling Romain deeper into the past, not helping him heal. Once she returned to Sacramento, they’d all be lucky if he wasn’t in worse shape than before.

“He’s a strong man. He’ll be fine,” she said, trying to convince herself as well as his mother.

“He has a good heart, a really good heart. If only you can…give him a chance.”

And nurture him along. She knew what his mother was suggesting: time, patience, love. But Jasmine wasn’t about to offer her heart to someone as high-risk as Romain. She purposely picked safe men, men who were ploddingly steady, even-tempered, easygoing. Men who didn’t have to cope with a surfeit of anger every day.

After what she’d been through with her parents, she needed that kind of security. But she couldn’t explain that to his mother without revealing her true purpose for being in Louisiana, so she simply smiled and nodded.

When Alicia left, Jasmine released a deep sigh and sank into the seat behind the desk as she picked up the phone. She planned to give herself a small break by making the friendly calls first.

Skye answered on the third ring. “Hello?”

“It’s me.”

“Jasmine! I’ve been trying to reach you all day.”

“Merry Christmas to you, too,” she said.

“Merry Christmas. But you had me worried. Where are you?” Jasmine could hear David in the background. It sounded as if he was standing right beside Skye, mumbling endearments as he kissed her neck. “In Mamou.”

“I really hope you’re not spending Christmas alone in a hotel room.”

“No, I’m at a…friend’s.”

The soft giggle that came across the phone had nothing to do with the conversation. “Dave, stop,” Skye said. He murmured something that sounded sexy and loving—intimate enough to make Jasmine envious of their relationship.

“You’ve already made a friend?” Skye asked, her attention returning to Jasmine.

“Well, he’s more of an acquaintance. Not really a friend.” Why she’d felt the need to add that, she didn’t know.

“He?”

“Don’t jump to conclusions. He’s just someone involved in my investigation.”

“How old is he?”

“Thirty-five, thirty-six. Somewhere in there.”

“That’s close to your age.”

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“And your point?”

“He must be a pretty nice guy to take you home for Christmas.” He’d taken her to his bed, too. That didn’t make him Mr. Wonderful. But Jasmine saw no reason to reveal her own lack of good judgment. “He’s nice enough to include me in his family’s celebration. That’s it.”