Read Haunting Jasmine for Free Online Page B

messages. Robert’s voice still makes my heart jump, a reflex reaction to the sound of his smooth tenor, the faint hint of a Texas accent. Heeeyyy, Jasmine.
    As I listen further, I clench my jaw. Robert’s tone is lightweight, unencumbered by guilt or regret. I wish he would grovel at my feet, so I could enjoy the pleasure of rejecting him. But he never comes crawling back to me. I need to ask you a favor, he says. The rest of the message is garbled.
    I return his call, and his cell phone dumps me into voice mail. You’ve reached the disembodied voice of Robert Mahaffey. You know what to do.
    I know what to do, and I would do it, if it weren’t illegal. If I wouldn’t end up in jail for life.
    “The answer is no,” I say. “No to the lowball offer on the condo.” I hang up, blink tears from my eyes, and focus on returning calls from clients. I pitch portfolios, selling my skills as morning sunlight breathes across the sky. Cold, salty air whips against my face. In my windbreaker, jeans, and running shoes, I barely ward off numbness. I follow the line of the surf toward town.
    “… choose our socially responsible growth fund,” I’m saying, and then I scream as an icy wave rushes up to my thighs. “Oh, I have to call you back!”
    I run up the beach, lifting my feet like a prancing horse to get out of the water. I’m soaked, and I’m already more than halfway to the bookstore. No turning back now. By the time I reach Auntie’s doorstep, I’m on the verge of hypothermia.
    Inside, the house is quiet and warm. The spicy scent of chai wafts down the hall, mixed with the usual dust and mothball odors. I’m shivering, my teeth chattering. “Auntie, hello! Help!”
    Auntie rushes down the hall in a new clashing outfit—blue sari and purple striped sweater. “Bippy, did you fall in the sea?”
    “Nearly.” I unload my technology in the parlor. “My feet are numb.”
    “Come, come—we’ll put your clothes in the dryer and your shoes in front of the heater. I’ve got some pants for you to wear in the meantime.” She leads me to the laundry room, next to the office, hands me a towel, and rushes away.
    I peel off my wet jeans, underpants, and socks, shove them in the dryer, and wrap a towel around my waist. Now what? I’m standing here half-naked, with no cell phone signal and no prospects for a happy life.
    Auntie returns with a pair of baggy purple polyester pants with an elastic waist; orange socks; and giant fluffy slippers in the shape of rabbits, complete with two ears growing up from each foot. I put on the clothes. I look like a giant grape. I’m glad Auntie didn’t bring a pair of her panties. I hope my jeans dry in record time.
    “You look nice and warm now.” She steps back and grins. “Perhaps you’ll wear this to Gita’s wedding!”
    “So Ma told you.”
    “She called me early this morning. What wonderful news!”
    “The best news I’ve heard in years.”
    Auntie pats my shoulder. “Stop making such a long face. You mustn’t stop believing in love, nah?” She glances at her watch. “I’ve got more packing to do upstairs before the store opens.”
    “The front door is already open.”
    “For early risers who like to come in and have tea or coffee before work.” She heads for the stairs.
    “So technically, you’re open?”
    “Oh, I suppose, but not really. I’ll be finished soon and come right back down.”
    “But what about showing me—?”
    “I’ll be down again soon. Make yourself at home.”
    She disappears. Fine, leave me here.
    I head for the parlor to retrieve my technology and nearly bump headlong into… Connor Hunt.
    My face flushes. I gaze down at my baggy purple pants, my giant rabbit slippers. How did he get in here? Through the door, of course. But I didn’t see him come in. He’s not supposed to be here. Does he ever wear anything other than cargo pants, travel jacket, and hiking boots? Does he have a job, or does he spend his life reading in dusty old