Whisper of Jasmine Read Free Page B

He took a deep swallow and gasped, thrusting the cup back at her as he struggled for air. “Good God, what the devil is that?”
    “Planter’s punch. Our family recipe,” she told him promptly. “Don’t you like it?”
    “How much liquor did you put in there?” Johnny fished in his pocket for a handkerchief for his streaming eyes.
    Delilah began ticking off items on her fingers. “There’s whisky, cognac, two types of rum and a few other things that are a secret to the L’Hommedieus. I’ll have you know my Granny Miette is famous for that punch.”
    “Really? How many people has she killed with it?” He licked his lips experimentally. “I don’t think I can feel my tongue.”
    “Don’t be feeble. It’s divine,” Delilah told him darkly. To prove her point, she downed the rest of the glass and smacked her lips. “Delicious! I could dance all night on a glass of this stuff.”
    “Now that you mention it—” Johnny reached for the ladle and refilled the glass. He sipped again and this time he gave her a slow nod. “I think I’m coming around. What else is in here?”
    Delilah narrowed her eyes. “Oh, no you don’t. You might be my husband, but I don’t know you well enough to tell you all the family secrets,” she teased. “Do you really like it?”
    Johnny took a third sip, this time savouring the sweetness of the punch followed by the warm trill of the mingled liquors on his tongue. “It’s growing on me. But you might want to be careful to whom you serve it. That stuff is a bowlful of rather bad decisions waiting to happen.”
    Delilah gave him a dazzling smile. “That’s what I’m betting on.”
    “What do you have up your sleeve, Delilah?”
    She grinned. “Just a little playing at Cupid is all. Not only do I plan to introduce Evie to Quentin, I’ve got just the girl for Gabriel Starke. I haven’t told him a thing about her yet because I want her to be a surprise, but she’s utterly perfect—a blonde from Scandinavia with a shocking reputation. She’s an artist’s model and tall, like something out of a Norse storybook for very naughty boys.”
    Johnny shook his head. “I hope you know what you’re doing, meddling with other people’s love lives like this.”
    “You know my Granny Miette isn’t above doing a little conjuring over the sugar cauldron,” she reminded him. “I know how to fix people together. A little May Water in the punch bowl is just the thing to make some sparks fly.”
    “May Water? Should I bother to ask what that is?”
    “You can ask, but it won’t do you any good. I don’t even know. It’s Granny Miette’s secret recipe. Don’t worry—it won’t bring anyone together with someone they shouldn’t be with. But everybody needs a little shove once in a while.”
    He slid his arms around her. “Is that how you fixed us together? Magic potions in my evening whisky?”
    She put her hands into his hair, twisting her fingers and tugging ever so slightly. “I didn’t have to fix us. We came that way.”
    * * *
    At that moment, Aunt Dove was wrestling Evie into the finished dress with dire threats if she peeked into the looking glass before the finishing touches. The shimmering emerald satin gown went on first, and Evie was startled at how many changes Aunt Dove had made in just a few short days. The neckline had been cut daringly low, but not as low as the back where it had been slashed nearly to her waist., Evie moaned a little as she felt the cool air pass over her skin.
    “I’ll look like a prostitute,” she muttered as Aunt Dove circled her, twitching the skirt into place.
    “What was that, dear?” “Nothing,” Evie said with a feeble smile. Aunt Dove tried her patience on a regular basis, but never more than when she was trying to help. She clearly wanted to play godmother to Evie’s Cinderella, and with her tiny income, cutting up an old gown was the best she could do. Evie looked at her face, wrinkled and mapped with memories and