Read Online Lady Jasmine by Victoria Christopher Murray - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Victoria Christopher Murray
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the bathroom.
Hosea followed and stood behind her as she bowed over the toilet and released her emotions into the bottom of the bowl. Then he helped her stand up straight, and even before she had the chance to clean up, he held her and comforted her.
“I love you, Jasmine,” he had whispered as she cried in his arms. “With everything inside of me. Nothing like this will ever happen again.”
The last words were the ones that she’d held on to, the ones that had helped her through. Hosea was right—nothing like that would happen again, because the next time any woman even had a thought about Hosea, she would stop the drama before it began. She would bury her—and she didn’t really care if she was dead or alive.
That included Ivy. Sure, that girl wasn’t any kind of threat, wasn’t anything like Natasia. Without looks or sophistication, Ivy didn’t have anything in her arsenal to attract a man like Hosea, or any man really.
But it didn’t matter. She’d warn Ivy one more time, and if she didn’t step far back, Ivy would be her first casualty.
“So,” Hosea interrupted her thoughts of annihilation, “are you sure you’ve forgiven me?”
“Of course, babe,” she said. “How could I not, after all the times you’ve forgiven me?”
His eyes told her he didn’t really believe her, but he understood. “You know I love you, right?”
“This, I know. And I love you, too. That’s why I came by. So that I could celebrate Valentine’s Day with the man I love.”
“Valentine’s Day?” He frowned.
“Uh-huh. Today. And I thought”—she paused and kissed him—“we could have”—another kiss—“a little love in the afternoon.”
This time, he brought his lips to hers. “Is that what you thought?” he asked when he finally pulled back. “Well, maybe we can take a little Valentine’s break.” He glanced at his watch. “Maybe for an hour or so.”
She grinned. She hadn’t been able to take her husband’s mind too far away from his father, but this was what they both needed.
With one swoop of her hand, she wiped the plates, one container still filled with chicken, and several books off the desk.
“Jasmine!” His eyes were wide. “Not here.”
“Why not? We’re married.”
He shook his head as if he couldn’t believe his wife. Grabbing her purse from the floor, he took her hand and led her toward the door.
“What about all of this?” she asked, looking over her shoulder at the mess they were leaving.
He didn’t respond. Didn’t say a word, didn’t stop moving until they were inside their SUV. Even before he switched the key in the ignition, Jasmine knew where they were going.
“The Arlington,” she said.
He nodded and passed her the widest grin she’d seen on his face in almost two weeks.
She said, “One of my favorite places.”
“I remember.”
Jasmine smiled as she remembered, too. Their last afternoon tryst, three weeks ago, had started with a simple text message: The Arlington at one.
Hosea had given her thirty minutes notice, but she’d walked right out of a Rio budget meeting, and dashed uptown, arriving on time. When she entered the lobby, he was waiting, but didn’t acknowledge her. She’d followed him into the elevator, where they stood shoulder to shoulder, two strangers. On the eighth floor, she’d followed him to a room where they introduced themselves, and minutes later they were inside Suite 807 sweating up the sheets.
As their car sped down Fifth Avenue, Jasmine had no idea what role she’d play today. Maybe she’d just be who she was—the woman totally in love with Pastor Hosea Bush.
The February wind blew hard against the hotel window; still Jasmine kicked away the sheets. Her body glistened with sweat. Hosea had finished what he started eleven days ago, before the call came about his father. It had been worth every bit of the wait.
She exhaled a long breath and rested her head on Hosea’s chest. “I love you so
Hosea followed and stood behind her as she bowed over the toilet and released her emotions into the bottom of the bowl. Then he helped her stand up straight, and even before she had the chance to clean up, he held her and comforted her.
“I love you, Jasmine,” he had whispered as she cried in his arms. “With everything inside of me. Nothing like this will ever happen again.”
The last words were the ones that she’d held on to, the ones that had helped her through. Hosea was right—nothing like that would happen again, because the next time any woman even had a thought about Hosea, she would stop the drama before it began. She would bury her—and she didn’t really care if she was dead or alive.
That included Ivy. Sure, that girl wasn’t any kind of threat, wasn’t anything like Natasia. Without looks or sophistication, Ivy didn’t have anything in her arsenal to attract a man like Hosea, or any man really.
But it didn’t matter. She’d warn Ivy one more time, and if she didn’t step far back, Ivy would be her first casualty.
“So,” Hosea interrupted her thoughts of annihilation, “are you sure you’ve forgiven me?”
“Of course, babe,” she said. “How could I not, after all the times you’ve forgiven me?”
His eyes told her he didn’t really believe her, but he understood. “You know I love you, right?”
“This, I know. And I love you, too. That’s why I came by. So that I could celebrate Valentine’s Day with the man I love.”
“Valentine’s Day?” He frowned.
“Uh-huh. Today. And I thought”—she paused and kissed him—“we could have”—another kiss—“a little love in the afternoon.”
This time, he brought his lips to hers. “Is that what you thought?” he asked when he finally pulled back. “Well, maybe we can take a little Valentine’s break.” He glanced at his watch. “Maybe for an hour or so.”
She grinned. She hadn’t been able to take her husband’s mind too far away from his father, but this was what they both needed.
With one swoop of her hand, she wiped the plates, one container still filled with chicken, and several books off the desk.
“Jasmine!” His eyes were wide. “Not here.”
“Why not? We’re married.”
He shook his head as if he couldn’t believe his wife. Grabbing her purse from the floor, he took her hand and led her toward the door.
“What about all of this?” she asked, looking over her shoulder at the mess they were leaving.
He didn’t respond. Didn’t say a word, didn’t stop moving until they were inside their SUV. Even before he switched the key in the ignition, Jasmine knew where they were going.
“The Arlington,” she said.
He nodded and passed her the widest grin she’d seen on his face in almost two weeks.
She said, “One of my favorite places.”
“I remember.”
Jasmine smiled as she remembered, too. Their last afternoon tryst, three weeks ago, had started with a simple text message: The Arlington at one.
Hosea had given her thirty minutes notice, but she’d walked right out of a Rio budget meeting, and dashed uptown, arriving on time. When she entered the lobby, he was waiting, but didn’t acknowledge her. She’d followed him into the elevator, where they stood shoulder to shoulder, two strangers. On the eighth floor, she’d followed him to a room where they introduced themselves, and minutes later they were inside Suite 807 sweating up the sheets.
As their car sped down Fifth Avenue, Jasmine had no idea what role she’d play today. Maybe she’d just be who she was—the woman totally in love with Pastor Hosea Bush.
The February wind blew hard against the hotel window; still Jasmine kicked away the sheets. Her body glistened with sweat. Hosea had finished what he started eleven days ago, before the call came about his father. It had been worth every bit of the wait.
She exhaled a long breath and rested her head on Hosea’s chest. “I love you so
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