Jasmine

by Jackee Connor

Contact Information

www.jackeescorner.com

e-mail: writerjc@jackeescorner.com

Disclaimer

This story is an original work of fiction. Names, characters, places and situations are products of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, places, or situations is entirely coincidental.

Copyright Ó 2001 by WriterJC

Chapter One

Jasmine Springfield glared determinedly at her computer terminal, willing it to go faster. Not to be rushed, the hourglass symbol continued its spin while a small screen continued to flash 'please wait....working'.

"Jasmine? Ready yet?" A deceptively calm, undeniably male voice called from the hallway. Jasmine couldn't mistake the muted footfalls of Barry Edgeman as anyone else as he made his way hurriedly along the blue-carpeted hallways of Alliance Systems. She'd heard them often enough in the past half hour. Within seconds, he would be in her office.

"I'm going as fast as this lame computer can manage," she mumbled under her breath. Barry Edgeman was notorious for cutting corners--and that normally translated into slower, or not upgraded PCs. Jasmine continued, loud enough to carry along the hall, "Just about!" She'd voiced her displeasure often enough, and really wasn't in the mood for the usual lecture that followed.

"Three minutes, just about?" Edgy pressed, now in her office.

Not even looking up as the hourglass had finally vanished, allowing her to make the necessary alterations to the file, she replied, "Edgy, weren't you ever taught that patience is a virtue?"

"Virtue is for people without deadlines that have dollar signs attached to them." Edgy shot back, chuckling at Jasmine's automatic sound of disgust.

Peripherally, she caught him glancing around her office. Sure the place was a mess; print outs were scattered over every available surface as were bits of paper and CD and diskette covers. The break-neck pace that had been set for the day was obviously taking its toll.

"Thank you for working on this project at the last minute, Jazz," he was saying. "You know how important this contract is to the company, but with everyone out sick...well, you know... Thanks."

Jasmine peeked up at him from the corner of her eye, if only to see if the real Barry Edgeman was indeed standing in her office. She didn't think she'd ever heard the words "thank you" pass his lips in the year she'd worked with him.

"Are you sure you aren't coming down with something?" she shot back. They didn't call him 'Edgy' for nothing.

Edgy chuckled slightly, and leaned nearer, monitoring her progress on the last screen. Jasmine shot him a curious look, before digging a pencil from beneath a stack of paper to make a note on a pink post-it pad.

Placing the pencil between her lips for safe-keeping, she moved along to the next item to verify that the input codes would match.

Edgy backed slightly away and grabbed a stack of CD holders from a box near the door. "Here," he offered, watching as she snapped the newly copied disk into the casing.

"We work well together," he observed. "How about we get together sometime."

Jasmine's pen fell to the desk with decided clack. The noise seemed to echo in the then silent office. Jasmine actually startled when her printer started up, and printed out the small password card that would need to be sealed in a separate envelope.

Grasping the paper quickly from the printer, wanting anything other than look at him while she disappointed him, Jasmine stuffed the document in the envelope and sealed it.

Edgy took the envelope and CD from her hands, and waited. Why couldn't he have just taken the hint and laughed it off instead of doing this the hard way? Jasmine hated the hard way. She copped out, instead.

"You know, Edgy, I really don't feel well. In fact, I think I'm getting whatever has been going around. You might not want to get together with me."

Even as she said the words, she realized that they were partially true. She had been feeling a little less than herself since shortly after lunch, most of which was spent working with Edgy breathing down her neck.

Edgy's face broke into a dismissing smile. "S'okay. That just sort of slipped out anyway. Didn't mean to make you uncomfortable." Then waving the CD, he backed out of her office. "I'd better get this down to shipping. Thanks again."

Jasmine sat at her desk for a second wondering if she'd imagined the last few minutes. Then her eye caught the clock--two more hours, and she still had at least twice that worth to do.

When the day finally ended, four hours later, Jasmine was firmly convinced that she had indeed caught the latest bug. Her throat was on fire, and her head felt as if a trio of tap dancing elephants were bearing down on her skull. If there were justice in the world, she would be home with the minimum of delay, after which she could have some soup, some drugs and a warm blanket.

The graying October skies didn't hold much hope of an easy drive home. Bad weather coupled with Friday evening traffic. . . she could feel her headache increasing. And the thin jacket she'd worn did nothing to ward off the distinct chill that heralded coming rain.

She slipped gratefully into her car, and immediately went in search of a traffic report. The last thing she needed was to be stuck in a traffic jam. So far, so good; the announcer on the easy listening station had no accidents to report. Unfortunately, the gas gauge caught her eye, and she suddenly remembered why she'd actually needed to take a lunch. Gas. She was practically on E. And, even more unfortunately, with so many out ill, lunch had not found a place in her day.

By the time she pulled out onto the main road, the rain began to fall. The weather report, on the tail of the traffic report, warned that freezing rain was on its way. All the more reason in Jasmine's mind to get home and get bundled. Gas could wait--at least for a little while. She'd take care of it first thing in the morning. It wasn't as if she had any place to go.

That decided, she got into the lane to get on the freeway. The drive was deceptively easy, until she reached the halfway point. Suddenly a wall of brake lights appeared ahead. The traffic was all but at a stand still. True to form, minutes later, she discovered a radio station which told of the jack-knifed eighteen wheeler that had traffic down to half a lane on the freeway.

Frustrated, Jasmine edged her way along until she reached the next exit, at which point she followed the steady stream of automobiles that were getting off. At the bottom of the exit, she was greeted by yet another long line of brake lights. But at least in this case, she could see a traffic light in the distance in which to place the blame.

She noticed that a number of people who had gotten off of the exit, were continuing in the steadily moving right turning lane. The light ahead was green, but the traffic was backed up through the light. She toyed with the idea of following the line of moving cars; the certainly looked like they knew where they were going. Her decision was made, when after the light had completed its cycle twice, the radio announcer again began to speak. Another accident. At least if she turned she'd be heading in the proper direction.

The new street was unfamiliar. Being new to an area held distinct disadvantages. The next cross street had a familiar name that she'd heard some place. That must count for something. She turned. This unfortunately took her unto a tree-lined road that she would never have placed as being in the city.

The road twisted and wound several times before coming to another intersection. Deciding that she had gone far enough, she made a left turn, hoping that she would eventually work her way back to the main road. Didn't the saying go 'make all left turns and you'll end up where you started'?

Obviously, whomever made that statement didn't live in New Haven. The new turn led into a residential area with long drives and houses set far off the road. Winding further into a wooded area, she could see the lights from large homes shining through winter-bare trees and evergreens.

The sun had long since set, and the 'short cut' was getting her nowhere. Jasmine decided that it would be much better to deal with traffic than to become lost in unfamiliar territory after dark.

She pulled carefully into the next driveway that she came to, unsettled slightly by the sound of ice crunching beneath her tires. The drive sloped a little more than Jasmine realized, and her car choked.

Determined to remain calm on the dark, slippery surface, Jasmine placed her car in the proper gear and restarted. Only, it didn't start.

An icy finger of worry tickled down her spine. She tried again, but the car would not catch. Examining her gauges for a reason for the mutiny, she realized the thing that she was supposed to have done before getting on the highway. Now it was too late. She was out of gas.

Gasping in dismay, she gazed out of the windshield. The house at the top of the drive was completely dark, but that could be deceiving couldn't it? The fact that no vehicles were traveling along the road gave her little choice. Hiking up the long icy drive, wearing pumps and a thin jacket, was definitely in her future.

She ground out a frustrated breath and opened the door. A gust of cold, ice-laden wind seemed to penetrate even to her bones, reminding her brutally of the importance of being prepared. Or at the very least having the sense to keep a blanket in the car in the winter. This really wasn't the day she'd planned for herself, least of all the night.

The house was even further away than it had initially seemed. By the time she reached the door, her fingers were thin sticks of ice and unless she was imagining things, the wind was picking up and the temperature was going down. She wanted nothing more than to find a decent, friendly human being on the opposite side of that door.

With an effort, she unfolded her frozen arms from around her aching body--whether due to sickness or the weather, she was beyond caring--and rung the bell. She bounced slightly on the porch, quietly counting to a hundred before ringing again. It was pointless. No one came. She tried knocking, yelling, and even tapping with her keys. None of it helped. Feeling like crying, she turned and made the trek back down the driveway, praying that the next house along the little road would have occupants.

As she trod along the street on feet that had become frozen stumps, she tried not to think of her poor cat Cosmo, all alone at her apartment, no doubt plotting her demise for not being available to feed him. She tried not to think of the approaching sound that was suspiciously like a car but was too far away for her to find properly on foot. She tried not to think of how cold it was, or of how nice and warm and cozy she would be if she ever saw home again. Basically, she tried not to think.

She was a zombie by the time she reached the mailbox of the next driveway. It was marked with the letters and numbers 12453 Juniper Lane. At least the name of the road was positive and conjured warm thoughts of spring. Dully, she turned and made her way up the long drive.

She was too tired even to sigh with relief when she reached the top of the drive and stepped onto the porch. Smaller than the previous home's, in was bathed in a warm pool of yellow light that seemed at odds with the freezing drizzled that lurked in the darkness beyond. She felt the odd sensation that she'd stepped into a haven.

Blaming her silliness on cold dementia, she managed to ring the bell with a numb finger. Staring sightlessly at the door, she prayed that someone would come.

"Yes?" a female voice, mildly accented, spoke at her elbow. It took a moment for it to penetrate her brain that she was being spoken to through an intercom system. By then, the voice was repeating itself.

"Yes, who is it?"

"Oh, u-uh, this is Jasmine Springfield. M-m-my car is out of gas up the road. Could I use your phone, please?" The hoarse, shivering voice felt disconnected from her person, as if it was someone else's.

Only silence greeted from the other side of the door.

When she was beginning to think that someone was taking her for an ax murderer, the door opened. A tall, dark-haired man was suddenly standing over her. She startled, taking a mental step back--perhaps it was he that was the ax murderer.

"Excuse me? Is there something I can help you with?"

Jasmine's mouth felt like it was stuck together, and her brain seemed sluggishly reluctant to keep up. "M-my car," she said pointing back over her shoulder in the direction of her out-of-commission vehicle. Her half-uttered phrase garnered an intent look from the man. "It's... out of g-gas," she finished lamely.

"Okay," he said, softly, his gaze touching over her bedraggled form. "You look half frozen. Why don't you come in and warm up while you use the phone?"

"No...n-no, really," she objected, hoping that she wasn't gazing too longingly into the rooms beyond. "If you c-could just call a cab for me, I'd be really g-grateful. I wouldn't want to inconvenience you." The offer was generous, but this was a strange man, and he seemed so tall and so dark. And she was so alone. . .

The man nodded silently to himself as if suddenly understanding something, then stepped back away from the door. She heard him murmur to someone. A thin forty-ish woman appeared beside him at the door.

"This is Joan," the man said. "She can take care of what you need." With a slight nod, he walked away and out of Jasmine's sight.

The woman was smiling at her, speaking gently. "Come on in dear and I'll get the phone for you."

Jasmine returned the woman's smile shakily, reflexively. It was an effort to again move her legs. It seemed to take as much concentration as she could command to put one foot in front of the other.

As she stepped into the entrance hall, she had a hazy impression of shiny wooden surfaces, and glowing warm light before it occurred to her that she was dripping. "Sorry," she murmured in mild dismay at the mess she'd already made, and numbly offered to wait outside. Joan's stern words stopped her.

"Out of the question." The woman's serious glare penetrated the growing fogginess of her brain. "Now, follow me. I'm sure I can find something more acceptable for you."

Jasmine followed mutely. With each step the numbing cold in her fingers, toes and ears was giving way to a dull ache as they began to thaw. Worse, the rest of her body felt on fire; each breath burning its way into her lungs.

"This way, dear." The woman was saying as she led her into a ground level bedroom. The impression of this room was comfortably feminine. Pinks, greens, beiges. Jasmine decided that she liked the feeling it gave her.

She focused on Joan who was chattering on in a matronly manner while she sorted through items in a wooden wardrobe. The questions she asked seemed innocuous, but Jasmine felt vaguely that the woman was merely using her search for clothing as an excuse for something else. After all, the wardrobe wasn't very large.

"These should fit you just fine," Joan said finally with a pleased smile as she offered a pair of tan corduroys and a pink sweater.

"No," Jasmine protested hoarsely. "I couldn't." It would feel as if she were invading someone's privacy if she took and wore their clothing. The outfit obviously could never have fit Joan; she was far too short.

Jasmine got another taste of the woman's stern voice and glare. "Sure you can, and it's no bother. We can't have you dripping all through the house while you wait can we?" Jasmine sighed and offered a weak smile. Joan was being reasonable and it would require too much effort to argue.

"Thank you," she murmured instead.

The woman smiled and showed her the bathroom. "When you're done, just come on out to the sitting room." Jasmine thanked her again as she left before stepping into the private area. The same comfortable, feminine impression flowed from the room's design to the bathroom's design. Jasmine was extra careful not to get leaves or mud on the plush pink rug.

Peeling off her damp clothes, and stepping into the soft warmth of the corduroys and the lush, expensively made sweater, Jasmine wondered how she had come to be so lucky. The items were like heaven after her rain soaked garments. If she never saw her own outfit again, it would be too soon.

Feeling mildly better, she pulled a comb from her purse and attempted to do something with her hair. The dark blond which usually shone like gossamer, hang lankly against her head and down her back. It wasn't long before she'd gotten it in better order, after which she tied it back into a loose ponytail, plaited off on the end.

Next, her face. All signs of make-up were gone, leaving her checks unnaturally flushed and her gray eyes puffy and glazed. Clearing her throat, she tried to swallow the soreness away. There was nothing to be done about that at the moment, either. Gathering her damp clothes and bundling them as best she could into her jacket, she set off out of the room.

She glanced out into the hallway. Both directions looked equally unfamiliar.

She went left, telling herself almost automatically. 'Make all left turns...' That was what had gotten her into this mess in the first place. She turned around and went the opposite direction.

At the end of the hall she found herself in a room with several dark leather chairs and a roaring fireplace. The fire was the only source of light in the room and emitted a warm comforting glow that literally drew her in. She couldn't resist extending her chilled hands before the blaze.

A discreetly cleared voice startled her, sending her heart rate into over drive. She spun in surprise, her first inclination to run. The tall, dark man who had answered the door was seated in one of the wing back chairs, watching her with interest. His eyes seemed to skim over every part of her; from the top of her rapidly drying hair to the tips of her pump-clad feet.

"There's a phone over here." He said at last, gesturing to a side table just to his left. "What number would you like?" He picked up the handset.

"Just a cab." Jasmine said, the intensity of his gaze making her nervous all over again. "I don't know any of the phone numbers or companies."

"Do you have any family you could call?" he asked.

"No, " Jasmine shook her head, then realized that she probably shouldn't have said that. After all, she really didn't know this strange man. She didn't even know his name.

The man dialed a number and called for the cab at his address. The person on the other end asked a question, then the man looked to Jasmine "Where will you be going?" he asked.

"1710 Kensington Abbey," Jasmine said. "And to the gas station, and then back this way to get my car."

The mans eyebrows raised a bit. He listened as the other party spoke for several moments. He then turned to Jasmine. "He says it will be at least 45 minutes before he can get here. They are having a busy night."

Jasmine's heart dropped. Forty-five minutes seemed an uncomfortable period of time to be in a stranger's home.

The man hesitated for a second and then asked the party on the line to hold. "You really don't have to go to all that trouble. I can help you."

Hope blossomed in Jasmine's heart. Though torn at allowing a stranger to be so generous, she didn't want to wait another forty-five minutes just to get started. But before she could come to a decision, the man was again speaking into the phone. "I'd like to cancel the taxi. . ."

Jasmine breathed a small sigh of relief. Under normal circumstances, she might have been irritated to have her choice taken away, but tonight--things were different.

Feeling suddenly, uncomfortably warm, she moved a few paces away from the fireplace. A new voice spoke behind her.

"There you are, dear."

Jasmine spun to face Joan, who was carrying an elegant tray upon which two steaming mugs were balanced. "I'm sorry," she apologized meekly to the older woman. "I got lost."

"Well, I've brought some hot chocolate to help warm you." She set the tray on a small side table. A quick look passed between Joan and the man that Jasmine was at a loss to define. When Joan walked out of the room, the man stared long-sufferingly after her, before turning to gesture Jasmine toward the wing back chair opposite the table.

Jasmine settled into the chair, but couldn't seem to relax. Following the man's lead, she did reach for one of the mugs of hot chocolate only to find that her hands were trembling. In fact, the tremors seemed to want to invade the rest of her body as well. Determine to have at least one sip of the inviting drink, she concentrated on getting the mug safely to her lips. The warm brew went down wonderfully, bathing her aching throat and seeping in blissful waves through her body. She closed her eyes for a moment in appreciation.

"What brings you out this way in this weather, Ms...?" the man inquired, startling her eyes open.

"Springfield," she filled in the blank. "Jasmine Springfield. Actually I was trying to take a short cut home and got a little lost. You see, I always thought if you keep taking left turns you'll end up back where you were, but for some reason, it didn't work out that way, and--" Jasmine stopped when she realized she was babbling.

With a self-deprecating chuckle, she continued. "Sorry, I sometimes do that when I'm tired. I just go on and on and--" she stopped herself.

The man looked at her and offered a bemused smile. He had deep long dimples, that completely changed his face. "I'm Joshua," he said, as if suddenly realizing that he hadn't introduced himself. "Joshua Dumas. You can relax in here while I warm up my truck and then we can be on our way. I'll show you an easy way out of here."

"Okay," Jasmine agreed, finding herself returning his smile reflexively. Watching him leave, she wondered that she hadn't seen the warmth and character in his eyes and features before. Tall and broad shouldered, he suddenly seemed very appealing.

With a comfortable sigh, she turned around and settled back into the chair.

Chapter Two

Joshua came to a stop at the doorway of the sitting room. There, cuddled against the side of his arm chair was Jasmine, the most unexpected houseguest he had ever had the pleasure to meet.

Escaped strands of soft blonde hair were beginning to curl--having dried more completely by the fire, around cheeks that looked flushed even in the dimness of the room. She looked completely and utterly helpless, as if she really and truly needed to be rescued. But he knew that in this day and age a knight-in-shining-armor complex could only get him into trouble.

Moving toward her, he gently shook her shoulder.

Jasmine sat up, her eyes going wide. She quickly tried to apologize, but Joshua wasn't having it. When he'd touched her shoulder, he'd felt the burning heat of her body right through her clothing.

"I'm no doctor," he told her. "But it looks to me as if you have a fever, and probably some of whatever bug is going around these days. Sleeping is just your body's way of telling you that it needs rest so it can heal." God, but he sounded fatherly.

Jasmine simply looked up at him as if she were having difficulty focusing on his words. "Yeah," was all she said as she came to her feet and preceded him out of the room. Somehow, despite her being dead on her feet, they managed to make it to the garage where his truck was by then nice and warm. And had a couple spare gallons cans of gasoline in the back.

"Where's your car," he asked as she climbed up into the passenger seat. She rubbed her forehead foggily, trying to get her bearings. "That way," she pointed off to the right. "It's a red Volkswagen."

"Okay," Joshua sighed. He hoped she was going to be able to hang on through this. He really didn't need the added stress of worrying about whether or not she would make it home. He closed the door while she pawed through her purse for the keys.

He found the car just as she'd said, at the bottom of the Immelman's driveway. It made sense that she would end up on his doorstep. The Immelman's were never in New Haven for winter. They'd left for Florida several weeks earlier.

Steering carefully on the icy roads, he pulled in behind Jasmine's car. His passenger was fast asleep, her keys held limply between her fingers. If she couldn't make it from his driveway to the Immelman's without falling asleep, there was no way she could be expected to handle the fifteen to twenty minute--on a good day--drive to her home. On ice, to boot.

Telling himself again how bad an idea this knight-in-shining-armor complex was, he took the keys from her hand and went to put the gas in her car. After that, he steered his truck in the direction of Kensington Abbey. 1710, she'd said.

The two spaces slated for her apartment were empty, so he pulled into one of them. And then he shut off his truck and waited, hoping that the cold would have some effect and wake Jasmine. Nothing.

He reached across the seat and shook her shoulder, gently calling her name. But she barely stirred, only moaning restlessly before drifting back to sleep.

With a sinking feeling, he looked across at the darkened windows of her ground level apartment. Did she live alone? He went up to the door and knocked. There was no sound or movement from inside.

He stood for a full minute before her door denying the inevitable. There was nothing else he could do, no other choice. Feeling extremely uncomfortable, he removed her keys from his pocket and unlocked her door, but kept it shut to keep the cold air from penetrating.

He then went back to the truck and opened the passenger door. Still no movement from the sleeping woman. With warnings blaring like thunder in his brain, he lifted Jasmine into his arms and started back toward her apartment. She immediately snuggled closer to him, burrowing her head in the nook of his arm.

He came to a complete stop, ceasing the constant crunch of the salt that had been sprinkled on the walkway, and looked down. An odd feeling swept him as he looked at this girl who was a stranger. She suddenly looked very familiar to him.

The wind picked up and blew around the side of the building, shaking him from his thoughts. Moving more quickly than perhaps he should have, he walked into Jasmine's apartment.

The light that shone from the parking area wasn't enough to help him find a light switch. But he could make out the heavy outline of a sofa perpendicular to the door. At the end of the sofa, he saw what he hoped was a lamp.

He moved in that direction. The sudden loud shriek, and sharp pain in his right hand startled him so badly that he did the only thing any normal creature with reflexes to do: He completely forgot to hold onto his cargo.

With a muted bump, Jasmine's bottom hit the floor.

* * * * * * * * *

Jasmine's eyes opened in startled fright. She was on the floor, and something tall and dark was looming over her. Screaming in horror, she reflexively grabbed a heavy book end from her corner table and swung. She heard the breath go out of the figure in a muffled whoosh before he toppled over her sofa and into the coffee table.

She was fairly certain he'd landed between the sofa and table because the sounds of Cosmo attacking were coming from that general direction.

Shakily, she pulled herself quickly to her feet and turned on the lamp, while at the same time grabbing a baseball from around the corner. When she'd put it there she had never thought she would have to use it.

Carefully stepping around the sofa she called Cosmo off. "Get up slowly," she ordered the human who had thought to invade her privacy. She was terrified out of her mind, but she had to get this man out of her house.

She couldn't see the man's face as he was covered by a pillow and several other objects. "I said, get up and get out!" Jasmine repeated, attempting to put a little more force into her voice. It worked on t.v. "I have protection and I'm not afraid to use it," she added.

A pair of hands raised in surrender from beneath the pillows. "I'm sorry," a weak voice wheezed. "But just everything stop spinning first."

Jasmine froze. That voice. . . it was familiar somehow.

With the toe of a pump, she kicked the pillow out of the way and came face to face with Joshua Dumas.

"Oh!" Jasmine was so stunned, she dropped her bat. Unfortunately, it landed on Joshua's now unprotected head. Which sent Jasmine to a whole new level of feeling like an idiot. Apologizing profusely, she moved the bat carefully aside and helped Joshua to the sofa.

When he was finally settled, though he leaned uncomfortably to one side, Jasmine turned toward him. "I know this may sound like a strange question: But what are you doing in my apartment?"

Joshua managed a grin, shaking his head. "You fell asleep in my truck while I was putting gas in your car. I couldn't wake you. So I brought you home. I think everything was going pretty okay until your cat attacked me." Joshua pointed to the scratches along the side of his hand. "The rest is history."

"Some repayment for you kindness," Jasmine murmured. "I feel awful about all of this. . . "

Joshua smiled reassuringly. "Listen. I'll just take it all as a lesson. It was my fault. I had no right to come into your apartment like I did."

"No," Jasmine shook her head. She wasn't having it. "No." Getting up from the sofa she hunted around for her purse. Finding it, she quickly extracted $20. "Money for gas," she told him

Then quickly looking him over, she dashed to the bathroom for her first-aid kit. She settled on the sofa beside him and took his hand into her lap. As gently as possible, she dabbed at the scratches that Cosmo had made, assuring Joshua that the feline had all of his shots. But that if he needed to go to the doctor or anything, she'd do what she could. Joshua simply smiled through out the entire ordeal, never saying a word.

When she looked up at him, there was a strange expression on his face.

"I really am sorry," was all she could think to say.

"You know, there is a way you can repay me." He finally spoke.

"How's that?" Jasmine asked, not quite guarded, she couldn't understand the look in his eyes.

"Promise me you won't apologize any more for this."

"Right." Jasmine smiled, relieved.

"Now," Joshua levered himself into a standing position. "If I remember correctly, you're sick and need to get some rest." His voice had an oddly strained breathless quality to it for a moment, and then it was gone. "I'll just go get your car and..."

Jasmine shook her head.

Ten minutes later, she found herself agreeing to let him bring her car back to her. It was the least she could do.

After he left, Jasmine fed Cosmo, blew off the entire idea of eating, downed some cold tablets and curled up on the sofa to wait for Joshua Dumas to return. The next thing she knew, it was morning.

A small white envelope had been pushed through her mail slot, and lay innocuously on the floor in front of her door. It contained her keys and the money she had given Joshua for gas.

Sighing, Jasmine got up and took the non drowsy versions of her cold medicines and headed for the one hour cleaners to have the clothing from last night cleaned. Then placing the gas money in an envelope she headed out toward Joshua Dumas's home. She would repay her debt. This time, she drove her car up the curving driveway.

She stepped out of her car onto the slightly damp pavement. The air was a bit brisk, but the ice had melted and the sky was clear, not an ounce of precipitation in sight. In fact, the morning had a feel to it that left Jasmine feeling invigorated.

Feeling a renewed energy, she walked up to the door and rang the bell. Only mild nervousness accompanied her motions--it had been less than 24 hours ago that she'd initially rang the same bell, and it was just after 10:30 a.m. She hoped it wasn't too soon in more than one sense.

The door opened almost immediately to reveal Joan's smiling face. "Hello, dear," the woman said cheerily. "I knew you would be back. Come on in. I'll just go get Joshua."

"Oh, no," Jasmine tried to stop her. "Don't bother him. I just wanted to return the clothing that you were kind enough to let me borrow, and to leave this for him." She held the envelope and the dry cleaning out to the woman.

"Nonsense," the woman waved her words off. "It's only proper that you tell him yourself." With that she turned and left Jasmine standing with her hands full. For a brief moment, she wondered if the woman were up to something. Quickly shoving the thought away, she tried a last protest.

"Is he sleeping?"

"I don't think so," the woman said with a frown. "He's normally an early riser. He's probably just puttering around up there." The little woman bustled off so quickly that Jasmine wondered if she were trying to escape any further questions.

Jasmine turned away from the stairs and gazed over the front room. She had missed most of it the night before, but today, in the proper light, Joshua Dumas's home was beautiful.

Much older than she had initially thought, she wondered if it were one of the first homes built in the area. The lines reminded her of some of the grand homes that had been built much earlier in the century.

She walked across the parquet flowing toward a room which had broad windows along the side of the house. Out of the windows Jasmine could make out what looked like a garden. It was well taken care of, and though many of the plants were dormant lovely evergreen bushes adorned the area. She thought that it would be very beautiful in the spring.

The distant sound of sirens gradually entered into her musings. Mildly confused at their nearness, she suddenly realized how long Joan had been gone. Turning, she found a window that overlooked the front drive. To her amazement, an ambulance was pulling in near her car.

Just then, Joan came dashing down the stairs and toward the front door and allowed the men to enter. They carried a stretcher between the two of them and followed the little woman up the stairs.

Jasmine stood in shock for a full five seconds before she tore up the stairs after them. The dry cleaning at the envelope lay forgotten on the living room floor. She followed the sounds of voices issuing commands using medical terminology that simply rolled over her. Turning at the top of the stairs, she entered Joshua's room.

There spread-eagled on the floor between the two EMTs was Joshua Dumas. He wore the shoes and trousers from the night before, which looked slept in. His unbuttoned shirt fell away from a chest that was battered and bruised, bearing horrible yellow and black marks. Tiny scratches along his arms and on what she could see of his face had reddened, taking on a frightening, angry appearance. Joshua's eyes were closed, and he wasn't moving.

As she watched, one of the EMTs said something in a warning tone and attached an oxygen mask to Joshua's face.

With a sense of unreality, Jasmine's gaze swung to Joan, who stood worriedly by, and then back to Joshua, so still and swollen. All she could think was that this was her fault. She had done this. She had hurt him like this.

There was a rushing wave as the room tilted suddenly. Vaguely, she heard one of the EMTs again speaking. This time his words weren't so much medical terminology, but Jasmine's mind refused to make sense of them.

"Hey, Steve. You've got one going down. . ."

The room continued its wonderful tilt.

Chapter Three

When Jasmine opened her eyes, a red-haired Emergency Medical Technician was leaning over her. He'd placed something horrible smelling beneath her nose. Then helping her to a sitting position against the wall, he pushed her head between her knees.

"Breathe," he said. "Slow and easy."

Jasmine nodded, mutely, unable to take her eyes from Joshua's prone figure. She vaguely felt Joan's hand rubbing along her back, murmuring words of encouragement.

"I'm fine," Jasmine managed, sitting up more fully. It was absolutely ridiculous that someone should be tending to her when Joshua was the one who so obviously needed help. Drawing in a deep breath, she pushed herself to her feet. The EMTs had gotten Joshua up on a stretcher and were headed out of the room and she meant to follow.

"Where are you taking him?" she asked, touching the sleeve of the red-haired EMT.

"St. Elijah's ." He replied with a quick backward glance, before maneuvering the bed down the stairs.

Joan obviously had the same idea in mind as she grabbed her coat and purse from a downstairs closet and headed for the door. She paused when Jasmine headed for her car.

"Are you okay to drive?"

"Yes, I'm okay," she said, refusing to admit to the shakiness she felt. "It was just a shock, that's all." She climbed into the car for good measure--in case Joan decided to argue further. The older woman climbed into the passenger side of the vehicle, but she didn't hesitate to give the younger woman a long, assessing look as Jasmine started the engine.

In the waiting room, Jasmine's tension only increased. When a uniformed policemen walked up to the desk and spoke with one of the nurses, she thought that she would jump out of her skin. What if Joshua had awakened and wanted to press charges? What if they were here for her? What if--

"Jasmine? Are you all right?" Joan's softly spoken words broke into her frantic ruminations. It was then that she realized that she had been staring at the police officer and that her hands were gripping the arms of the chair so tightly that her knuckles had gone white.

"I'm sorry," she released her grasp and turned toward the older woman. "I'm sorry," she murmured again when that didn't seem enough.

"You're going to have to try to calm down. I'm sure he's going to be all right. He's a tough guy." Joan assured her, but a worried gaze lingered.

Jasmine dropped her face into her hands. "It's my fault," she blurted. She looked up cautiously over her hands to see how the woman would react to her admission.

Joan's features were carefully blank. "I think you'd better tell me about it," she said.

"I didn't mean to hurt him. I thought that he was an intruder." Jasmine rambled on, her words tumbling over themselves in her haste to get them out in the open. Somewhere during her explanation Joan began to laugh. Jasmine froze and looked at the woman as if she had lost her mind.

"I'm sorry," this time it was Joan apologizing. "It's just that in a few years, you're going to think this is funny, too."

"No, I'm not," Jasmine denied furiously. "Not if I'm in jail!"

Joan burst out laughing even more loudly, drawing the attention a man across the waiting area. Bringing her tone lower, the woman patted Jasmine's hand. "It's going to be all right. You'll see. And he won't hear of you being so upset about it, either."

Jasmine's eyes dropped to her hands as she tried to swallow the rest of her fears. "He just looked so helpless lying there on the floor."

Joan's smile faded away and she sighed. "Wait here." In a determined motion she got to her feet and headed toward the desk. Jasmine watched nervously as she talked for several moments with the duty nurse.

"They haven't finished their tests, yet." Joan informed her. "But I still don't want you worrying too much. As soon as the doctor is done someone is going to come out here and talk to us. Okay?"

Jasmine nodded mutely, feeling like a frantic child that needed assurance. If only she could just pull it together.

The following ten minutes passed interminably slow. By the time a tall brown-haired woman dressed in a white lab coat approached them, Jasmine had conjured all kinds of ills to have befallen Joshua Dumas at her hands.

"I'm Dr. Rhonda Beckwith," the woman said as she approached. "Are you here for Joshua Dumas?"

"Yes," both Joan and Jasmine replied.

The doctor smiled and settled in the seat nearest Jasmine. "The good news is that he should be just fine. He does have a fractured rib, but that should heal well in time. He also sustained a minor concussion, probably from the fall. There are a few additional tests I'd like to have the results to before we release him, but the prognosis is good. He's resting quietly now. You can both go in, but he's probably going to be in and out so he probably won't remember things very accurately."

Jasmine's eyes shot nervously to Joan. What had the doctor meant he wouldn't remember things too accurately? Were they building an assault case against her?

Joan looked beyond her to the doctor. "Can we go in now?"

"Of course," the doctor smiled and directed them toward the room. "If you have more questions, I'm doctor Beckwith. One of the nurses or orderlies can contact me."

The first thing that greeted Jasmine when they stepped into Joshua's room was all the machines. A monitor mounted over the headboard blinked and beeped. Another machine sat on one side of the bed and containing wires that ran beneath the covers. There was the an IV dripping clear liquids into Joshua's arm through a needed inserted near his wrist.

Joan walked to the foot of the bed in a very no-nonsense manner then looked back toward Jasmine who lingered nearer the door.

Jasmine forced her feet to move further into the room. She came to a stop at Joshua's bedside. She placed a hand on the metal side bar as she looked into Joshua's still features. Dark hair fell over a white bandage over his left temple, covering a wound that Jasmine didn't remember from the previous evening. He had obviously hit his head when he passed out. But his chest rose and fell evenly, and though he was paler than Jasmine was sure was normal, he looked as if he were simply sleeping.

"Not so bad, was it?" Joan whispered toward her.

Jasmine looked sheepishly toward the other woman, and would have replied, but she was surprised when something suddenly touched her hand. Joshua Dumas had grabbed her hand.

She looked with stunned surprised at eyes that were only partially opened. Their hazel green was barely visible through his lashes. She started to pull away; his grip was far from firm, but he made some small sound and Jasmine couldn't do it. She let him hold her hand.

Joan was no help. "I'll just go and see if I can find out anything about those tests and make a few phone calls. Can you stay here with him for me?"

Jasmine dragged her gaze from their still clasped hands and nodded. It was probably the least that she could do. As Joan walked from the room, Jasmine turned back to the man on the bed. His eyes had closed again and he appeared to have fallen back into unconsciousness.

The bandage again caught her eye. The urge to push back the hair that fell over it was great. Looking guiltily around the dimly lit room, Jasmine gave in to the temptation. To her utter shock, Joshua opened his eyes again, not in the dazed unfocused way as he had before, but he looked at her.

Jasmine found herself smiling at him reassuringly. He still seemed a little lost. "Everything is going to be just fine," she assured him softly.

Joshua blinked. "Angel," he whispered so softly that she wasn't sure she'd heard him correctly. She started to pull her hand away, and Joshua's grip tightened. That small movement must have caused him some pain because he moaned slightly under his breath. Then, "Please. . . don't leave me. . .Angel."

Jasmine stilled herself. Who was Angel? Perhaps this Angel person was very important to him. Jasmine held on to his hand more tightly. "I won't leave you," she said. "I promise."

Chapter Four

Jasmine startled at a sound from the door. This time she did release Joshua Dumas's hand. After she had promised not to leave him, he had relaxed into a healing slumber which had left her ample opportunity to observe him. Beneath the bandages and the scratches, she had to admit, she liked what she saw. Which was probably why she jumped so guiltily at the sound.

"Is he sleeping?" Joan's whisper floated across the room.

"Yes," Jasmine answered the woman. "What did the doctor say?"

Joan touched her shoulder. "It's only bruising, like the doctor thought. But Dr. Beckwith would still like to keep him at least overnight for observation."

Jasmine nodded, mildly relieved.

"Listen," Joan was again looking at her watch. "I need to get back home to take care of a few things. I wasn't able to make my phone calls earlier--silly me, I can't remember the numbers--they're out of town, you see."

"Sure, sure," Jasmine was already reaching for her coat and purse. "I can drive you home."

"No. No," Joan laughed. "I can get a ride home. I was sort of hoping you could stay here with him for a little while longer."

"What about the nursing staff?" Jasmine asked, experiencing a sudden sinking feeling that this situation was far from under her control. "I'm sure that they could have someone sit with him until you could return."

"No, dear," Joan shook her head. "They only do that if the patient is in the intensive care unit. I'm only going to be gone for a little while. I just didn't want him to wake up alone. I'm sure he probably doesn't remember how he got here. But, of course, if you have something to do this afternoon. . ."

Something about the innocent expression in Joan's eyes bugged Jasmine. She sighed, allowing the feeling to pass. She owed him, regardless of her feelings on the matter. "I'll stay. But I think I'm probably the last person he wants to see right now. He was asking for someone named Angel."

"Angel?" Joan frowned. "He doesn't know anyone named Angel. At least, not that I know of. Are you sure he said Angel?"

"Yes," Jasmine nodded. "As a matter of fact, he said it twice. He woke up for a second, looked at me and said it. And he also asked that this Angel person please not leave."

Joan's expression went carefully blank. "Well, whomever this is. . . I don't know. I'll be back soon. Thanks so much for doing this." And then the woman was gone and Jasmine was again left alone in the room with Joshua. She reached to the side of the bed and retrieved the television remote, careful to mute it as soon as she'd turned it on.

Somewhere between the Cajun cooking show and the lap quilting network, Jasmine fell asleep. She blamed it completely on the cold medicine, as it had caused her to be more relaxed than usual.

She stretched, a bone in her arm cracking against the muffled noise of the television. Her eyes drifted around the room and settled on her ward. Joshua Dumas was looking directly at her.

"You know, I've been sitting here wondering if you were real." He said.

"Actually, I'm your welcoming committee," Jasmine said, mildly abashed. "I'm supposed to be the one to make sure you didn't wake up alone. I seemed to have failed in my duties."

Joshua's brow went up, and Jasmine realized that there were several ways that her remark might have been taken. "You didn't fail. It was wonderful seeing a familiar face."

"A familiar face that you've only seen once before," Jasmine reminded him ruefully.

"Good point," Joshua grinned at her. "But, a welcome sight nevertheless." Then, wincing slightly, he continued. "So, can you tell me what happened? How did I end up here? Everything is pretty much a blur after I dropped your car off."

"You don't remember driving home?" Jasmine asked.

"Not especially," Joshua admitted, ruefully.

Irritation surfaced unexpectedly. How could he be so cavalier about this? "If you don't remember driving home, you were probably in no shape to be driving anywhere! Why didn't you tell me you were really hurt?"

Joshua blinked, surprised. "Well, I didn't think I was really hurt--just a little sore, maybe." His tone became far more serious. "What happened? Was there an accident?"

"No, no accident," Jasmine put his mind to rest on that point. "You did manage to make it home. Somehow." She glowered as she said 'somehow'. "The real problems began this morning when I arrived to return the clothing that I'd borrowed last night.

"Joan went upstairs to get you, wondering why you were sleeping late. Instead she found you passed out on the floor. But no big deal, huh? You were probably just a little sore."

"Am I missing something here?" Joshua asked, his irritation level rising to one on par with Jasmine's. "Because unless I'm mistaken, I'm the one lying here in the bed."

Their gazes locked for several seconds, then Jasmine blew out a breath. "Listen. I'm sorry for jumping on you like that. I was just so scared when I saw you just. . .lying there. So. . . still and helpless. I thought you were dying."

The irritation drained out of Joshua's eyes. "I'm sorry I worried you," he said, softly, earnestly. Then impish amusement appeared as he asked with exaggerated pleading, "Can you ever forgive me?"

Jasmine felt a small smile building. "Of course, I forgive you," she told him, balling her hands into fists to prevent the urge to playfully thwack him one. "Just let me know the next time."

"Next time?" Joshua's brows raised. "Does this mean that you want to clobber me again?"

"Oh, you have no idea," Jasmine's voice was full of laughter and promise. "Right now, in fact."

Joshua laughed out loud at that. Big mistake. His breath hitched and Jasmine could have sworn he went several shades paler. His squeezed his eyes shut tightly as beads of sweat appeared on his brow.

"Joshua?" Jasmine called, reaching for the hand that was clamped in the sheets. Joshua swallowed, but didn't speak.

"Joshua, how can I help? Shall I get the nurse? Just tell me what you need and I'll do it."

Joshua's eyes opened, his lashes spiky with moisture. "Stay," he managed to whisper, breathing again, albeit much more carefully.

"What?" Jasmine asked in a voice low with surprise.

"I don't like hospitals," Joshua explained. "Never have. If you could just stay a little while longer. . ."

Jasmine took a step back from the bed and considered the man lying against the green hospital sheets. His eyes were open and honest, and she felt that for once he wasn't teasing her. There was also a note of vulnerability there that she simply couldn't resist.

"I'll stay," she said. "I promise." There were no excuses this time. Joshua Dumas no longer thought that she was this Angel person. He knew exactly who she was. "Until Joan comes back," she added in the name of self-preservation. Looking into Joshua's eyes convinced her that she was going to need some sort of protection. She was highly susceptible to the man's charms.

"Would you like me to call the nurse to give you something more for the pain?" she asked, hoping to diffuse the charged atmosphere that was beginning to develop.

"No," Joshua told her. "It's passing now." He grinned slightly, again flashing those mesmerizing groves in his cheeks. "It only hurts when I laugh. I wasn't expecting it. I'm all better."

"Right." Jasmine told him. She didn't miss the way each breath was taken with care and the measured way he spoke, but she left it anyway; taking drugs or not was his choice.

Joshua talked and dozed through two episodes of I Love Lucy and was beginning on his dinner when Joan returned.

"What happened to you?" Jasmine asked her in what she hoped was a polite tone. The woman had said that she would be back soon--five hours earlier. Though she had rather enjoyed being with Joshua, it was the principle of the thing.

"I got held up," Joan shrugged indifferently, not at all bothered by Jasmine's tone. "Couldn't have been helped." She smiled warmly, directing her words to the both of them. "But I see that you seemed to have survived."

Jasmine closed her mouth. That she had been afraid to come into his hospital room wasn't exactly something that she wanted to tell Joshua. But Joshua, not catching the double-meaning of the woman's sentence, took it as directed toward himself.

"Barely," he said, with a wicked wink in Jasmine's direction. "I'm going to have to take self-defense lessons from this woman."

Jasmine blushed beet red. "I can't believe you are joking about this," she admonished them both. "You're," she pointed toward Joshua, "all laid up in the hospital--"

"But, I get to go home tomorrow," Joshua inserted.

"Whatever," Jasmine dismissed the comment. "Fact is, you're still here and I'm the blame. And you," Jasmine turned on Joan. "You're just as bad as he is. Why won't you people take this seriously?"

Joshua sighed long-sufferingly, but there was a sparkle in his eyes. "I could do that if you insist on it. What do you think, Joan? Assault with a deadly--what were those things anyway?"

"I believe she said that they were bookends," Joan replied, right on cue with the same note of exaggerated seriousness.

"Yes. Deadly bookends," Joshua picked up the thread. "I hope that aren't special family heirlooms. They would probably be impounded for evidence and then, what would hold up all of your books?"

Jasmine shook her head and began to laugh. The situation was rather ridiculous. "All right," she said. "You win. I surrender."

"Good," Joshua looked at her warmly. Then, more seriously. "The fact of the matter is, Jasmine, that I was the trespasser. I'm sure the law would probably say that I had it coming."

"I would say he did," Joan replied from the other side of the bed.

"Either way," Jasmine took a step back from the edge of the bed. "I am sorry." Turning, she reached for her purse. "And now, I should probably be going. I hope you get better soon, Joshua," she told the man on the bed. "It was good to have met both of you," she included Joan in her final remark.

She hesitated before moving toward the door realizing that this would be the last time she saw either of them. That somehow made her extremely sad. Her eyes settled on Joshua. "Good-bye," she said.

Joan spoke up. "Why don't you let me have your number, dear? That way I can give you a call to let you know how all of this turns out."

"Oh. Okay," Jasmine obediently recited her phone number for the woman as she pulled a small address book from her purse. She left shortly after, her last memory of Joshua looking very pale and tired.

Chapter Five

 Jasmine had slipped into a light doze when the sound of her phone ringing startled her awake. After having had disturbing dreams about being hunted by the CIA for crimes committed with bookends, she awoke feeling unrested. So, while waiting for a load of laundry to complete drying, she had turned on the television and promptly fallen asleep.

The phone rang again, spurring her into faster action. She noted ruefully that the dryer had shut off. She caught the phone on what she thought was the beginning of the fourth ring.

"Hello?"

"Jasmine?" The voice on the opposite end of the phone connection sounded vaguely familiar. "It's Joan. I hate to bother you again so soon, but are you busy today?"

Jasmine blinked. "Oh, hi, Joan. I'm not too busy. How's Joshua? Has he been released yet?"

"Yes, yes," the woman sounded a little distracted. "He's home and he's fine--physically. But Jasmine, he's driving me nuts. Do you mind coming over to keep him out of trouble? The phone has been ringing off the hook and I just can't keep up with him. There will be a nurse coming tomorrow, but for today I am at my limit. Could you come?"

Jasmine was stunned at the woman's plea. "Oh...well, sure. I can come," she found herself saying. She'd never thought to hear the woman sounding so frantic. "Just give me about thirty minutes."

Jasmine quickly dressed in jeans and a soft sweater. She brushed her hair down out of her ponytail and checked herself in the mirror. She wasn't sure what to expect from a Joshua Dumas that had caused Joan to sound so frazzled, but still she felt oddly energized knowing that she would be seeing him again.

Twenty minutes later, she stood on the front step of the Dumas residence, ringing the doorbell. Joan opened the door almost immediately.

"You're a doll," the woman exclaimed before dragging her into the house.

"Thanks," was Jasmine's bemused response. What in the world was she getting herself into?

"We moved him downstairs into the guestroom," Joan told her as she showed her along a corridor that Jasmine was pretty sure was the one she'd gone down two nights earlier. "He hates that," Joan added. "Now that you're here, maybe he'll act like he has some sense."

Jasmine didn't know that she wanted that onus put on her. But then Joan was opening the door to reveal the pink room that Jasmine remembered. Joshua Dumas lay in the big bed under the pink pastel comforter looking so uncomfortably out of place that Jasmine burst into laughter. The furious glare she received from the irritated man served to stifle her mirth, but an amused smile remained on her lips.

Joan eyed her with widened eyes, obviously surprised at Jasmine's bravado. "He can neither bark nor bite," Jasmine whispered conspiratorially in the woman's direction. Joan grinned back at her before looking pointedly toward Joshua before leaving the room.

Jasmine pulled a chair up to the bed and settled into it. "Well, aren't you going to speak?" Jasmine asked mischievously.

Joshua's angry glare faltered slightly. "Hello, Jasmine. Thank you for coming." Jasmine could tell that he was working hard to hold on to his irritation.

"Hello, Joshua," she said sweetly. "It's wonderful being here, especially since you appear to be such pleasant company."

Joshua's expression turned to a small smile, he sighed before looking apologetic. Jasmine was captivated by the expressiveness of his features.

"Would a less pink comforter make you feel better?" she asked. He looked so at odds with his feminine surroundings.

"You have no idea how much," he told her hopefully. "I've been trying to get to my own room all morning, but Warden Joan won't let me be. I think she had some idea that all the pink would be relaxing. . . maybe calm me a little."

Jasmine fought to keep her smile contained. He looked so much like a young boy who wanted his way but his mommy wasn't letting him. She imagined she understood why Joan needed help with him.

"I'd love to help you out," Jasmine told him. "And just between you and I, I've heard that pink has the opposite effect. Unfortunately, I have no idea where to find such an animal as a decent comforter."

"My room. There's one in my room that I find very agreeable," Joshua told her.

"Great. Now, I just need a map. I couldn't find my way out of here if I wanted to." Jasmine remembered getting lost two nights earlier leaving from this same room.

"Does this mean that I could deny you directions and keep you here forever?" Joshua teased. "Lock you away in my castle until you melted away my beastly exterior."

"Directions, please, Sir?" Jasmine requested. His eyes were entirely too enticing. Joshua relented and told her how to get upstairs without having to go back out to the main foyer.

Jasmine hurried up the back stairs and found Joshua's room without a glitch. The room was darkened, in deference to its owner's absence for the foreseeable future; but everything was in place. There was no sign of what had taken place there only the day before. Jasmine had a brief moment of unease as she relived the scene. Then, shaking it off, she looked beyond the memory.

In rich forest greens with touches of burgundy and golds, Jasmine felt that the room suited him. After an appreciative once over of the furnishings, she gathered the large comforter from the bed. There was also a mystery novel sitting on the bedside table. Jasmine gathered that up too and took the entire bundle back downstairs to the guestroom.

When she arrived, there was a stack of games on the table as well as a tray of lemonade on a stand. Joan had obviously been there.

"At last," Joshua greeted her, happily accepting the book. "I thought that my moodiness had driven you away and you'd climbed out the nearest window."

"Never," Jasmine told him as she pulled the fluffy pink comforter from the bed, Joshua offered a hand to help her. The sheets beneath were pink also. She could easily make out the outline of his long legs stretched out beneath the pastel covering which suggested that he wasn't wearing a whole lot aside from his pajama top. Jasmine decided then and there that Joshua Dumas was simply going to have to live with that as she had absolutely no intention of removing that sheet.

"I think the pink suits you," she teased him as she folded the comforter.

"No, I think it suits you better," Joshua said, eyeing her with interest as she gathered the fluffy mass to herself. "Pretty in pink."

Jasmine fought the blush that worked its way across her face. Joshua continued to watch her as she spread the comforter over him, then making adjustments to assure that it was even all the way around the bed. During her ministrations, Joshua continued to watch her. And she was careful to avoid his eyes, careful to avoid touching him.

Joshua broke the silence, and the mood somewhat. "Aren't you going to tuck me in, Mommy?" His expression could only be described as downright mischievous.

Jasmine found herself laughing at him. She approached and carefully tucked the covers around him. She considered placing a motherly kiss on his forehead, just to see his reaction, but that would have been pushing things a little too far. She settled for simply mussing his hair and calling him John-boy.

"I'm sorry if I embarrassed you earlier," Joshua said more seriously.

"I'm told I embarrass too easily," Jasmine shrugged.

"Allow me to make it up to you," Joshua said. "Would you like to have dinner with me? Not while I'm flat on my back, but when I can at least move around on my own."

"That's really not necessary," Jasmine assured him. But she was unaccountably pleased that he had asked under any circumstances.

"Really. It's the least I can do since you've been so kind and helpful to me. You were with me all day yesterday at the hospital and here you are again. I'm sure you have better things to do than to play nurse to me."

"That depends on your personal feelings toward doing laundry," Jasmine inserted.

"Not too good, let me tell you," Joshua replied, then continued along his former line of thought. "Your boyfriend must be wondering what you're doing spending all of this time with another man."

"No boyfriend." Jasmine told him. She and Nathan had decided four months earlier that they had grown apart.

"That's too bad," Joshua said, blandly. "So how about it?"

Jasmine hesitated. Was she really ready for this? For the entire time that she had been living in New Haven, she had studiously avoided romantic entanglements. Her relationship with Nathan had been exceedingly complicated near the end. She was enjoying the simple life. Besides, there was something about Joshua Dumas, something that warned her that if she were to become involved with him, there would be no simple hurt feelings as there had been with Nathan. There would be broken hearts.

"We could call it a non-date, if it will make you feel better," Joshua said, accurately interpreting her reticence. "Perhaps the return of a favor for services rendered, for your time."

"Okay," Jasmine said, feeling as if the agreement was pulled from her. She definitely wanted to see Joshua again. If they could keep it to just friends, it would be okay. Wouldn't it?

"I'll be out of prison on Thursday, if I'm good," Joshua told her. "How about Friday?"

"Friday is good," Jasmine nodded.

"Good." Joshua quickly changed the subject. "Drink?" He pointed in the direction of the tray sitting on the stand near the bedside.

Jasmine retrieved the tray and brought it over to the bedside where both she and Joshua enjoyed the refreshment. They played table games for the rest of the afternoon, barely noticing when Joan peeped in at odd moments to see how they were getting on.

As afternoon stretched into evening, Joan brought in dinner on another tray. They continued to play games over the hearty sandwiches and soup that made up their evening meal. By the time Jasmine returned home to her apartment, nearly 7 hours had passed.

* * * * * * * * *

After Jasmine left, Joan came in to remove the tray that contained the remnants of Joshua and Jasmine's dinner. Joshua was exhausted, but content. Being with Jasmine had been very enjoyable. He was glad that Joan had found an opportunity to lure her back to his home, and told her so.

Joan feigned innocence. "I have no idea what you're talking about, Joshua Dumas. I asked Jasmine here because you were being more than two hands full and I figured that her being here might put you on better behavior."

Joshua didn't believe a word of what she was saying. "I suppose you were right about that," he said, playing along.

"I don't think you should be wearing yourself out like this, though," Joan frowned over him.

"She energizes me, Joan. It's only because she isn't here that I'm tired."

"Yeah. I believe that along with the Easter Bunny and the Loch Ness Monster. You're tired because you were supposed to be resting, not flirting."

Joshua chuckled. "I wasn't flirting. I was losing at monopoly and a whole list of other games. I blame the medication. They made me all loopy."

"I'll just bet it was the medicine," Joan said, clicking out the bedside light. "Pleasant dreams, Joshua."

"You bet." Joshua couldn't help one additional comment just before the door was shut.

Chapter Six

Jasmine awoke Monday morning, totally unprepared for the new week. Laundry was half-done; groceries and her other normal weekend chores were but wishful thinking in hindsight. But still, despite the things that led up to it, she couldn't regret the way she had spent her time the past two days, finding instead that her mood was surprisingly light.

Edgy, though, had obviously had a different experience. As soon as Jasmine arrived, he ran down a laundry list of items he needed to have done by the close of the business day. Though many of her previously ill co-workers were back at work, Jasmine felt that she was getting the brunt of the last-minute assignments. Even when she found herself having a sandwich in her office, having to work through lunch, she was still cheery.

A sound from behind her brought her out of her contemplation of the bit of code displayed on her computer monitor. She turned to see Calvin Povich, a heavyset engineer in his mid-twenties. Calvin had started with the company a few days before Jasmine, and his office was the next one over. She often heard him muttering to himself as he worked at his computer. Many of the other workers thought he was strange, and tended to make fun of him. But Jasmine often felt empathy for the odd young man. Having been a shy child, she knew what it was like to be different.

"Jasmine, could I ask you a favor?" he spoke softly, his powder blue eyes were searching hers as if desperate that she say yes.

"Sure, Calvin. What's up?" Asking a favor was a first.

"I've been having some personal problems. . . lately," the young engineer mumbled quickly. "And, I've. . . uh, sort of fallen behind on a couple of projects. I know you're busy, but could you help me with the Sauderson Mills and the Hefgar Projects?"

"What do you need for me to do?" Jasmine frowned. Calvin was a good programmer. She didn't understand why he should need help from her on such simple projects.

"Just finish it up for me. I've done most of it. It's just the graphics and a few loose ends."

Jasmine couldn't shake the feeling that something more was bothering Calvin. But, she didn't want to pry. Perhaps she could help him by simply doing as he asked. "When do you need it done by?" She offered a reassuring smile.

"Oh, Jasmine, thank you," he gushed, light flooding his once worried gaze. "Thank you!" He reached out and grabbed one of her hands in his. "You're wonderful."

Utterly stunned, Jasmine didn't hear Edgy's tell-tell steps along the corridor. By the time he stepped into her office it was too late. The guilty flush that suffused her face was pure reflex.

"Well, well. Hope I wasn't interrupting anything?" Edgy demanded softly. The man had never been one to hide his colors--or be afraid to inject a little innuendo if the need arose. Calvin had the wisdom to leave the room without another word. Jasmine was impaled to the spot by Edgy's very direct gaze. When she made to defend herself, she heard Calvin enter his office next door and promptly spill what sounded like an entire case of diskette files.

Edgy stared, barely acknowledging the clatter next door. He continued to study her even after the noise had died down. Then, based on some internal clock of his own he began to speak as if the silence had not existed. "You've got to be kidding me." He spoke softly, barely above a whisper. The softness of his tone did nothing to dilute the gleam in his eyes. "Say it isn't so."

"Say what isn't so?" Jasmine played dumb. It was a wimpy tactic, but all she could come up with at the moment. With studied nonchalance, she turned back to her work.

"You and him. . ." Edgy gestured in the direction of Calvin's office.

Jasmine half-turned back toward him. "Calvin and I, what?" she asked, intentionally challenging. It was really none of Edgy's business, anyway. The company had never put any constraints on employees dating. In fact three married couples had worked within the organization for several years. But Jasmine knew what Edgy's problem was. Edgy's problem was that she had turned him down. And Edgy was nothing if not a man of opportunity. He'd spotted his prey and he was going in for the kill.

And one challenge made by a certain Jasmine Springfield did not frighten him. In fact, Jasmine had the distinct impression that he was having fun. The smile the spread across his face confirmed it. "I think we're both adults here," he crossed his arms. "You know what I'm talking about."

Jasmine looked back at him, stubbornly keeping her silence. Sometimes this man really got on her nerves. He was entirely too arrogant, which was why she would never have dated him in the first place. He reminded her too much of Nathan. She wouldn't be told what she wanted anymore. She was a grown woman and she meant to act and be treated like one.

Besides, she had told Calvin that she would help him. Helping would not involved her telling Edgy that the young man was having personal problems that might be interfering with his work. For Edgy the job came foremost, and he would be on Calvin within moments. The distraught young man probably just needed time to work things out on his own, time Jasmine meant to allow him.

"Jasmine. . ." Edgy brought her out of her musings with a sing-song tone of voice. "Are you and Calvin seeing one another?"

Jasmine was becoming tempted to tell him yes just so he would leave her alone. But Edgy knew just as well as Jasmine that Calvin was seeing someone. Julia Carmen DelRego. No one had quite figured how Calvin had managed to woo the lovely young woman, but they had been seen together having lunch in a local restaurant. The rumor mill had kicked into high gear until Calvin had broken down and spilled the news. For a time, the teasing had lessened. She knew how rumors ran. She didn't want anything she might s