Haunting Jasmine Read Free

lot of work to catch up on, so if you don’t mind, I should find my aunt.”
    “Do you have time for coffee? Or tea?”
    I can’t believe this guy. “I won’t have time for dating while I’m here.” Especially not with men like you. Men who come on to strangers. Men like Robert.
    “Who said anything about a date?” He steps closer, and I step back.
    “What would you call it then? Do you always come on to women in bookstores?”
    “Only to you. I can’t change your mind?”
    “Not a chance.” I want to shove him out the front door. He’s exactly like Robert, who probably flirted with every female he encountered. I’m not going this route again. I’ve become the fortified castle of Jasmine.
    He rubs his forefinger across his eyebrow. “I can’t lie. I’m disappointed. But I hope to see you later.” He slips out the door and disappears into the blustery evening.

Chapter 2
     
    Good riddance.
    The nerve of him, making a pass at a stranger. I bet he’s got a wife stashed at home, maybe kids, too.
    When Robert first met Lauren, did he smile so innocently and ask her on a date? Did he slide the wedding band off his finger, drop it in his pocket? Did he pretend he cared about her?
    Men are driven by testosterone. They think they can get any woman they want. But nobody will get me, ever again. I need to call in to the office, make sure the company hasn’t canned anyone else. Make sure I have a job to which I can return.
    I hang my coat in the hall closet and slip into the cluttered room to my right. I hold up my BlackBerry at all angles. I check down one aisle, then another. No signal.
    A loud snoring emanates from the History aisle labeled WORLD WAR II. A bearded man has fallen asleep in an armchair, a book about battleships facedown on his chest. Amazing how some people have so much time to sleep, to read. Don’t they have work to do? E-mails to check?
    “Bippy, my dearest niece!” Auntie exclaims behind me in a voice far bigger than her size. She has always called me by my baby nickname.
    “Auntie!” I whip around, and she rushes toward me, arms outstretched. She’s as spritely as a teenage girl, yet her paper-white hair, deeply wrinkled face, and silver-rimmed bifocals betray her age. Her knitted reindeer sweater clashes with her green chiffon sari. She shows no trace of her mystery illness.
    “Why didn’t you say you’d arrived?” She envelops me in a hug filled with her particular spicy scent, the scent of Auntie, and a touch of Pond’s cold cream. Childhood memories flood back to me, of Auntie making curried cauliflower and the sweet yogurt dessert mishti doi ; handing me brand-new copies of Curious George , Winnie the Pooh … Did I ever actually read those silly books?
    I gaze into her eyes, searching for a hint of what ails her. “I was looking for you. How are you?”
    “I’m holding up, thank the gods.”
    The guy in the armchair snores louder.
    A man rushes into the room in a haze of irritation. He’s dressed in autumn colors, black hair teased and oiled. He probably spends an hour in front of the mirror every morning, primping and coiffing. He exudes delicate, elegant charm, his features rounded as if sculpted by the weather.
    “Ruma, the window display is messed up again, and I am sick of fixing it.” He glances at the snoring man and shakes his head. “Weekend warriors are starting early, and it’s only Monday.”
    “Weekend warriors?” I say.
    The man glances at me. “The loungers, the sleepers!”
    “You don’t get too many of those, do you?”
    “Where have you been, honey?” He looks me up and down. “Oh, you must be Jasmine.”
    “Pleased to meet you,” I say, wondering what Auntie has told him about me.
    “This is Tony,” Auntie says. “You’ll be working with him while I’m away.”
    I smile to hide the jumping beans in my gut. “Looking forward to it,” I say politely.
    Tony shakes my hand so tightly, my bones nearly break. “So you’re moving