Page 57 of Forbidden Desires

“Don’t look so serious, Love. You’ll end up scaring her away before you even get the chance to talk to her properly.”

I sucked in a startled breath. I’d been so in my head, so wrapped up in my worrisome thoughts I hadn’t seen or heard Dominique appear beside me, as if out of thin air. She looked stunning in an emerald-green dress, and I leaned over and kissed her cheek.

“Don’t make fun of an old man,” I said playfully. “He’s trying to muster up courage he should have had weeks ago.”

“Eh, weeks ago you’d have probably fumbled your chance at forgiveness, too.” She laughed at the narrow-eyed expression I gave her. “Oh, come on. We’ve known each other long enough that I know you probably would have made an ass of yourself trying to be overly suave, because you don’t know how to let go of that rigid control of yours and express your emotions. But I digress.”

I gave her a mock frown. “You’re so cruel to me.”

“And yet I’m still one of your best friends.” Smiling, she reached out to straighten my tie and the lapels of my suit.

At my age, it was strange to have someone do that for me. It made me feel like a young man all over again, getting straightened out, primmed and preened before prom. Only, the stakes were a little higher now than just the hope that I could get lucky with the pretty girl I was taking as my date.

“Jasmine is going to be walking the floor in about five minutes,” Dominique continued on. “I did tell her you were back in Coral Gables and planned to attend the showing. But this is her night, so let her mingle with the patrons and then I’ll send her your way in a bit. How does that sound?”

“Sounds like a plan.” I breathed in, then groaned in frustration. “Jesus Christ. I’m forty-six years old. I shouldn’t be so nervous. I should be more confident.”

Dominique chuckled, then she took my face in both her hands, making me look her in the eyes. “What if I told you that women actually like men who are honest about their feelings rather than always trying to hide them by putting on their silly little macho facades?” She smiled and shook her head. “All these years and you still don’t understand that. It’s okay. Jasmine’s an artist, Eric. Sensitive and intuitive. She’s not going to begrudge you your feelings. Just tell her how it is and what you feel. That’sthe best way to any woman’s heart. Oh, and a good grovelling never hurts, either.”

With that, Dominique left me. I took a sip of my wine, willing the alcohol to work its magic and calm some of the more fly away edges of my nerves and ground me. As the minutes ticked on, it worked, for the most part. I began to pull back from the gallery hall, knowing it was almost time for Jasmine to make her entrance.

I first noticed the slight parting of the large crowd that was admiring her work. Sure enough, it was Jasmine, walking through the gallery with Dominique at her side, introducing her to guests like a proud mother figure. My heart started pounding hard and fast in my chest at seeing her after so long.

She was radiant. Her champagne-colored dress complimented her flawless ivory skin, hugging every inch of her like a glove with draping around her curves that accentuated her perfect shape. She’d had her hair styled, and her make up done. Simple, elegant. Just enough to highlight the natural beauty she was.

But it was her demeanor that arrested me.

She was so relaxed. So utterly vibrant and confident. This was her element—this place, these people. Her art. As I watched Dominique introduce her to various potential patrons, her elegance wasn’t only in her appearance, but the self-assured way she carried herself.

Jasmine was made for this.

Had I had any doubts of that before, they’d have been squashed in that moment. Between her alluring paintings and the woman herself, no one could question that Jasmine belonged here. The only question that remained was: would she belong at my side by the end of the night?

I didn’t want my presence to interfere with Jasmine’s work here. I wanted her to enjoy all the attention she deserved aspotential buyers perused her paintings, without me being a distraction.

I finished my drink, passed it off to a waiter that came by, and withdrew to the balcony just adjacent to the area showcasing her artwork. Outside, I was met with a quiet calm. The buzz of people within was muffled out here. I heard the ocean in the near distance, and I momentarily closed my eyes, letting those sounds give me the solace I needed for what was still to come…and that’s when I heard her.

“I didn’t expect you to be here.”

The sound of her voice washed over me, making my heart ache and beat erratically in turn. I took in a breath before I faced her, overwhelmed with the need to take her in my arms and bury my face in the fragrant curve of her neck. To kiss those soft, pink lips until she moaned my name.

I did none of those things. Just restrained every single one of those urges and remained where I was and smiled at her. “Your pieces are stunning, Jasmine,” I said in a soft tone, meaning it. “I walked around the gallery earlier. They’re exquisite.”And so are you.

She looked at me a moment, as though she was unsure of how to interact with me. Then, that hesitance masked over quickly, and she held her shoulders high. “Well, I’ve had a lot of emotions to channel into my work the last few months—hell, the last few weeks. They say emotion is the best fuel for creativity.”

I nodded in agreement, even though I suspected I’d been the impetus for most of those paintings inside, one way or another. “Indeed.”

There was a beat of silence as we stood apart, more distance between us than I would have liked. It was clear that neither of us knew how to proceed and it was in that moment I realized that for as much as I thought I had prepared for this, I was ill-equipped in the art of how to go about apologizing and groveling.

“Jasmine—”

“Eric—”

We spoke at the same time and gave nervous laughs at the predicament.

“Me first,” she said, taking the lead, her hands clasped together in front of her. “Eric, I’m not sure why you’re here. After what happened between us the last time we saw each other, I didn’t think you’d actively seek me out. Dominique just told me a short while ago that you wanted to see my paintings and speak to me, but I’m not sure there’s anything else that needs to be said.” She swallowed hard, but her gaze remained steady on mine. “You made your feelings very clear that day at my apartment, and I’m…I’m at peace with that.”

Jasmine’s voice was stable, but there was no denying the strain of hurt beneath the surface. Hurt that I had caused with my callous words and actions. So much regret washed over me, but I couldn’t let that get in the way of what I had to do. What I needed to say in response.

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