Page 65 of Maxwell

“Are you seeing anyone else?”

Jasmine shook her head. “Not at the moment.”

A smile spread across his face. She should have been annoyed by how pleased he looked, but her heart did a traitorous somersault.

“For the record, ending things with Nicholas had nothing to do with you,” she said, fighting a smile of her own.

He threw up his hands. “Hey, I never said it did. But methinks the lady doth protest too much.”

“God save me from conceited men,” Jasmine said, taking a sip of her water. “What about you? Are you seeing anyone?”

“No. Which means we’re two single people having dinner.”

When the mushrooms arrived, they each took several onto their plates. Jasmine hummed her approval, savoring each bite.

“You know what you’re talking about,” she said, dabbing the corner of her mouth. “I have a question for you.”

“Shoot.” Maxwell took a sip of wine.

“Have you always wanted to be a doctor?”

He nodded. “Since I was a kid.”

“There was nothing else you wanted to do?”

“I’ve never dreamed of being anything else. Not realistically, anyway. I love watching my dad’s old movies and watching my brother on screen, killing it. In my dreams, maybe I could be an actor. What about you?”

“I’m addicted to home renovation shows, like the ones on HGTV, especially the shows where they have to preserve the house’s architecture. In my dreams I imagine doing that work.”

“Knocking down walls and laying carpet?” He sounded amused.

Jasmine nodded vigorously. “It seems so satisfying to take something that’s ugly and in bad shape and fix it up. But when the sink at my apartment gets clogged or the oven stops working, reality sets in, and I realize I’m not that girl. I just call the property manager and have someone come in and fix the problem. That’s why I haven’t moved out of my apartment. I don’t want to deal with the responsibility of homeownership when I could pick up the phone and have someone else take care of it. Awful, right?”

“No, that’s real, but you know you can call someone when you’re a homeowner, right?”

“But then I’d have to pay for the repair,” Jasmine said.

“True. I’ve had an easy life, so I understand wanting to keep your life uncomplicated.”

“Have you ever had to work hard at anything?” she teased.

“I’m working hard right now.”

At first she didn’t understand what he meant, and then it dawned on her that he was talking about her.

“How am I doing?” he asked.

“Okay,” she answered.

“Okay? I need to work harder.”

“You don’t have to work too hard,” she said in a low voice.

His eyes lit up. “Good to know.”

They kept talking, the teasing back along with the humor. When their meals arrived, Jasmine almost melted into her chair at the taste of the lobster ravioli.

“So good,” she whispered.