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Champagne Kisses
Zuri Day


He held up his cup. “To a great assistant, whose help this week has been invaluable.” “To your family, especially the elders,” Marissa replied, her tone more serious than Donovan’s. “Whose vision made this day, and this moment.” And just like that the moment shifted. Her words produced an awareness of who they were and where they were and what they both felt but continued to deny.Donovan’s eyes darkened as he drank in her countenance, focusing on the lips that she licked when nervous, like now. Her eyes searched his as well, noted the fast beat of his heart evidenced by the throb in his neck. She broke the stare and took a nervous sip of wine.But Donovan wasn’t willing, or able, to let the moment go so quickly. He leaned over, slowly, as if dealing with a skittish mare that might bolt from sudden movement, and placed the lightest of kisses on her forehead.“That was beautiful,” he said, his eyes travelling once more to her lips before looking back at her. The moment was gone, but for both of them…the memory lingered.







Passion is the spark…

An heir to Southern California’s most fabled vineyard, Donovan Drake works as hard as he plays. Betrayed by love in the past, the consummate bachelor prides himself on never committing to one woman. But Marissa Hayes isn’t just any woman. And Donovan has just two weeks to show the guarded, voluptuous beauty exactly what she’s been missing.…

Love is the flame…

Falling for her boss is number one on Marissa’s list of don’ts. But from the moment she experiences Donovan’s intoxicating touch, her heart tells her something else. Slowly but surely, his seduction is breaking down her defenses. Is their passion as fleeting as her brief stay at Donovan’s fabulous resort? Or have they found a love as timeless as the finest wine—strong enough to withstand anything, even a threat from Marissa’s past?


He held up his cup.

“To a great assistant, whose help this week has been invaluable.”

“To your family, especially the elders,” Marissa replied, her tone more serious than Donovan’s. “Whose vision made this day, and this moment.”

And just like that the moment shifted. Her words produced an awareness of who they were and where they were and what they both felt but continued to deny. Donovan’s eyes darkened as he drank in her countenance, focusing on the lips that she licked when nervous, like now. Her eyes searched his as well, noted the fast beat of his heart evidenced by the throb in his neck. She broke the stare and took a nervous sip of wine. But Donovan wasn’t willing, or able, to let the moment go so quickly. He leaned over, slowly, as if dealing with a skittish mare that might bolt from sudden movement, and placed the lightest of kisses on her forehead.

“That was beautiful,” he said, his eyes traveling once more to her lips before moving back to her.

The moment was gone, but for both of them…the memory lingered.


ZURI DAY

snuck her first Harlequin romance novel at the age of twelve from her older sister’s off-limits collection and was hooked from page one. Knights in shining armor and happily-ever-afters filled her teen years and spurred a lifelong love of reading. That she now creates these stories as a full-time author is a dream come true! Splitting her time between the stunning Caribbean islands and Southern California, she’s always busy writing her next novel. Zuri makes time to connect with readers and meet with book clubs. She’d love to hear from you, and personally answers every email that’s sent to Zuri@ZuriDay.com.


Champagne Kisses

Zuri Day




















www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)


Dear Reader,

Do you know the history of champagne, how it is created through the second fermentation of the grape, which produces carbonation? Or how originally only the sparkling wine produced in the French region of Champagne was legally permitted to label their drink as such, which is the reason some popular labels to this day refer to their bubbly as “sparkling wine”?

Thanks to the Benedictine Monks in the Abbey of Saint Hilaire, near Carcassonne, who in 1531 filled their spare time creating a drink that calmed the mind as well as quenched the thirst, we enjoy a drink often associated with milestones and celebrations.

So please join me as I raise my glass in a toast to Donovan Drake, an heir to Drake Wines Resort & Spa, and Marissa Hayes, the woman Papa Dee calls “his even change.” I believe that you’ll feel as I do…they deserve each other’s love!

Zuri Day


Thank you, Glenda Howard! You know why.

And Samuel Lewis…you know why, too!


Of diamond dreams and champagne kisses,

Can one really have that which one wishes?

I say yes, it’s up to you…

To believe and act to make these dreams come true.


Contents

Chapter 1 (#u6df35cb5-9bcd-58e1-b61d-4362ed2b58dd)

Chapter 2 (#uf01d0e5d-ac2c-5539-a89c-4c424a4a1f91)

Chapter 3 (#u4af6ccc5-2a31-5566-a8a2-f4cbeda06c79)

Chapter 4 (#u2daeb9e2-ea93-528d-8e86-b2607907b8b0)

Chapter 5 (#ua5206448-aa72-517c-ba58-e11733133fb5)

Chapter 6 (#u1c71040d-499d-537e-bcdd-ed8ccd1a2710)

Chapter 7 (#ud97bad87-f359-5bbe-b569-45571ec19210)

Chapter 8 (#udd584811-6a25-5f9b-86c9-177e19aa3508)

Chapter 9 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 10 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 11 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 12 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 13 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 14 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 15 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 16 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 17 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 18 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 19 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 20 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 21 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 22 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 23 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 24 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 25 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 26 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 27 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 28 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 29 (#litres_trial_promo)


Chapter 1

Four months earlier

“Let’s go down the road and have a drink.” Drake Wines Resort and Spa co-owner and executive, thirty-two-year-old Donovan Drake, eyed his prey with a serious expression, barely stopping himself from licking his lips and releasing a groan in anticipation of how the evening might end. That was if he had his way.

His target’s eyes twinkled with humor as she contemplated the remark. “You’re asking me to leave one of Southern California’s most coveted resorts—” she waved her hand around the room “—featuring award-winning vineyards, to go somewhere else for a glass of wine?” Donovan smiled. The woman sitting across from him had a point. For the fifth year in a row, an assortment of Drake Wines had placed first in several categories at the Monterey Wine Festival, the California Beer and Wine Festival, the Vancouver Playhouse International Wine Festival and the Food and Wine Classic in Aspen, Colorado. The latter had led to an unprecedented six-page spread in the prestigious Food and Wine Magazine, a fact that had delighted his sister and director of PR, Diamond, whose wedding announcement and subsequent celebration had placed him near this dark-chocolate morsel.

“You’re right, of course. There are no better wines than those in our vineyard. But when it comes to privacy, and particularly when it comes to not having the one-and-only Genevieve Drake, otherwise known as my mother, all up in my affairs, that is something else entirely.”

“We’re just talking. Why would you care if your mother sees that?”

“Because I’m male and you’re female. That alone makes you immediately of interest where my mother is concerned.” Marissa Hayes’s look was a mix of mild confusion and skepticism. “She sees every woman her sons entertain, even in conversation, as potential marriage material. If we stay here it won’t be long before she waltzes over to begin her informal interrogation.”

“That is not how she appeared during the introductions,” Marissa countered. “In fact, considering the force of the Drake name in the wine industry and beyond, and given Diamond’s vivacious personality, I was surprised at how soft-spoken and laid-back she seems to be.”

“Don’t let those genteel manners and the velvet glove fool you. There’s an iron fist shielded inside it and a shrewd, calculating mind behind that soft smile.”

Marissa fiddled with one of her curly black locks as she took in the scenery, discreetly searching for the classy lady she’d learned was Donovan, Diamond and their younger brother Dexter’s mom. While doing so, she also took in the well-appointed great room ensconced within the luxurious walls of the Drake estate; its soft ivory silk was a perfect backdrop to the velvet-covered chaises, brocade wingbacks and low-slung sectional clothed in antique damask. The ebony and ivory keys of the baby grand anchoring the other end of the room were being tickled by a very capable pianist. The nimble fingers of the young blonde who’d been introduced as a former prodigy effortlessly blended yesterday’s sounds of Duke and Ella with today’s George Benson, Kenny G and Esperanza Spalding. When she shifted her eyes from the piano player, they landed on Donovan’s mother, a vision of sophistication in burgundy silk and silver accessories. She turned her head slightly toward Donovan and lifted her champagne flute. “I’m afraid you may be right, Mr. Drake. We’re getting ready to have company.”

Donovan didn’t have to turn around to know who was approaching. Genevieve Drake had spotted them and was making the proverbial beeline for a closer examination of the woman who had held the attention of her son for longer than five minutes.

“Ah, there you are!” Genevieve Drake’s carriage was one of pride and confidence as she reached her son and stepped in for a hug. A refined-looking lady with strong, vibrant features, long black hair streaked with gray and a slim, short frame, she exuded maternal comfort even as subtle hints of fire came through. “I think Keely did a fabulous job, don’t you?”

“I do,” Donovan said, looking around and raising his glass to Dexter, his perpetual-playboy brother holding court amid a circle of lovelies on the other side of the room. “But then again, we’d expect nothing less of Kathleen’s daughter.”

“Indeed.”

Kathleen Fitzpatrick was a longtime Drake employee whose fire was less like subtle flickers and more like a burning flame. She’d begun her employ more than twenty-five years ago, working in various capacities based on need. For the past several years she’d worked in the PR and marketing department as Donovan’s sister Diamond’s assistant. Fiercely loyal and all about family, she’d been delighted when Diamond decided to hire her up-and-coming party-planner daughter for the fete to celebrate her highly talked about engagement to construction mogul Jackson “Boss” Wright. With a nod to the month and the moment, Keely’s theme had revolved around hearts, with the symbol showing up in unique and creative ways around the room: ice sculptures; ice cubes; floral centerpieces; and, Genevieve’s favorite, the keepsake candles that would go home with each guest. The color palette boasted almost every shade of red imaginable and, paired with champagne, was at once elegant and festive.

Genevieve turned to Marissa. “Hello, dear. I’m Donovan’s mother, Genevieve Drake.”

Marissa stuck out her hand. “Marissa Hayes. Mrs. Drake, it’s a pleasure.”

“The pleasure is mine.” Genevieve reached for Marissa’s hand only to pull her in for a hug. “We hug where I’m from,” she said with a smile.

“Oh? And where’s that?”

“The South. Louisiana. What about you, dear. From where does your family hail? With that beautiful brown skin, those high cheekbones and almond-shaped eyes, I’d probably lean toward the islands. Would I be wrong?”

“We all landed stateside as far as I know. I was born and raised in San Diego, ma’am, where I still live.” Marissa suppressed a smile as she felt a subtle tug on her dress. She was sure it was Donovan’s way of alerting her that Detective Genevieve’s interrogation had begun.

“And your parents, they still live in San Diego as well?”

“No. My father is a minister who a few years ago was asked to become senior pastor of a prominent church in Chicago. They live just outside the Windy City in a suburb called Naperville.”

Genevieve nodded. “I’ve heard of it, but have not been there. In fact, it’s been years since I’ve visited the Midwest, including Chicago. I do love their deep-dish pizza. Donovan, what was the name of the restaurant we visited, what, ten years ago?”

“I don’t remember, Mom. But speaking of food, Marissa and I were—”

“Oh, it doesn’t matter,” Genevieve went on. She did a surreptitious sweep of Marissa from head to toe. “Of course, with your stunning hourglass figure, you probably stay away from such calorie-laden treats.”

“Probably not as much as I should.”

“Hmm. I must say it is wonderful to talk with someone without having to look up continually. All of my children took after their father in that regard. What are you, five-three, four?”

“Okay, Mom. Let’s not continue this round of twenty questions.”

“How else does one get to know their guests?” Genevieve asked dryly with raised brow.

Marissa chuckled. “Really, Donovan. It’s okay.” Looking at Genevieve, she continued, “I understand completely. I’m five foot four and also the shortest one in my family, not counting my cousins or my nephew, who just turned two.”

“Ha!” Genevieve’s twinkling eyes signaled how much she was enjoying the conversation. “So you have siblings.”

“A brother, who is older than me. He and his family live in Baltimore, Maryland, where his wife is from.”

Donovan cleared his throat. Marissa hid another smile behind a sip of sparkling chardonnay, a Drake Wines favorite. Genevieve barreled on determinedly. “How do you know Diamond, dear?”

“I haven’t had the pleasure of really getting to know her yet. I work for Boss Wright as his executive assistant.”

“Really?” Genevieve didn’t try to hide her surprise or heightened interest. “How long have you worked for him?”

“Okay, Mom. I think that’s enough for one evening.”

“I’m simply curious that someone as beautiful as this young lady didn’t try and snap up one of the country’s most eligible bachelors for herself.” She turned still-sparkling eyes on Marissa and lowered her voice as if they were two longtime pals. “Or did you?” She winked, letting Marissa know that she was teasing, and continued talking, as if trying to get under her eldest son’s skin.

It was working.

Donovan didn’t think for one minute that his shrewd mother was joking. He believed he knew the questions his mother wasn’t asking: Had Marissa ever been interested in Jackson Wright? Had Jackson ever been interested in Marissa? Had Jackson and Marissa ever slept together? If so, why? If not, why? Was Donovan interested in Marissa? And if so, how fast could Genevieve do a background check?

“You know what they say about curiosity,” Donovan drawled, gently taking his mother’s shoulders and steering her away from Marissa. “It killed the cat.” He kissed her on the top of her head. “We’re going to check out the dessert buffet,” he offered, to keep his mother from feeling totally dismissed.

“Enjoy your evening,” Genevieve said over her shoulder to Marissa. “We’ll talk again.”

After Donovan had deposited Genevieve into the safe and capable hands of his father, Donald, he returned to where Marissa still stood. “Now you understand why I want to sample another vineyard’s wines.”

“Completely.”

“So what do you say? Inland Empire Winery, Rancho California Road, fifteen minutes?”

Marissa smiled, and gave a nod. “I’ll meet you there.”


Chapter 2

Donovan watched Marissa wind her way through the crowd and over to where Jackson and Diamond stood. Later, he’d explain to his sis and brother-in-law-to-be why he didn’t make his proper goodbyes. Diamond would understand. As with the brothers, she too had borne the brunt of Genevieve’s desire to expand the clan and bounce grandchildren on her knee as soon as possible. One would think that with Diamond’s wedding on the horizon the pressure would have lessened. Instead, her impending nuptials had created the opposite effect, especially where he was concerned.

“You’re the oldest,” Genevieve had chided the morning after Jackson proposed to Diamond. “I never thought I’d see the day where your sister beat you at anything.” Despite their competitive nature, this was one race Donovan had gladly lost to a sibling. He’d happily get beaten by Dexter, too, though hell would have probably frozen over and Armageddon made itself known before baby brother ended his Don Juan ways. In an attempt to throw off an undoubtedly still curious Genevieve from his trail, Donovan walked in the opposite direction as Marissa, joining his brother and the circle of female admirers that surrounded him. After another minute or two, he slipped out a side door, doubled back through the garden, around the infinity pool and into the parking lot. Bypassing his Mercedes—because if she noticed his car missing Detective Genevieve would undoubtedly ask what type of car Marissa owned—he walked the cobblestoned path to the company garage and settled into a company car. After retrieving the car keys that were always stowed in the overhead visor, he eased the Lexus hybrid out of the garage and was on his way.

The night was cool and the stars bright and vibrant as he made his way down the private winding road of the Drake Resort before turning left onto Rancho California Road and the short drive to his destination. He reached the neighboring winery, with which the Drakes maintained a friendly rivalry; parked near the front; and, bypassing the restaurant, opted for the less formal tasting bar. On this, the Saturday before Valentine’s Day, it was only moderately crowded. The bartender greeted Donovan by name, served up a deep-bodied cabernet franc and placed a bowl of salty nuts and pretzels within easy reach. After allowing a moment for the wine to breathe, Donovan picked up the glass, swirled its contents and thought of Marissa Hayes.

He’d noticed her the moment she’d arrived at the party. He’d seen the delicious smile she gave the valet as she exited her car and received her ticket. Donovan had been standing near the door, having just returned from escorting his great-grandfather—the family patriarch—from the north wing of the ten-thousand-square-foot home to where the festivities were being held. David Drake, Sr., a ninety-nine-year-young fountain of ever-spouting wisdom, whom everyone fondly called Papa Dee, had noticed her, too. His surprisingly clear eyes had gleamed with mischief when he said, “That’s a fine filly there, Donovan. An old man won’t fault you for abandoning me in favor of taking that youngling for a ride.” Donovan had laughed off the comment, but the short, stacked, brown bombshell rocking the forest-green, velvety-looking dress and stiletto heels had not only captured his attention, but she maintained it throughout the course of the evening.

He knew who she was, had remembered her from a few months earlier and the gala that celebrated the official opening of Drake Wines Resort and Spa. That’s how Diamond had become acquainted with Jackson, when his construction company, Boss Construction, won the bid to transform the twenty-five-year-old facility. It had been totally renovated and expanded to include a boutique hotel with a separate honeymoon house on the hill, a stand-alone gift shop and wine store and a world-class spa offering everything from massages to mud baths along with a full-service salon. All of this sat on more than five hundred acres of rolling hills and sterling grapevines. It was set against the mountainous backdrop of Temecula, a perfect place for weddings and the site for his sister’s upcoming nuptials.

His interest had been piqued that first time he’d seen Marissa, and he recalled the way his heart had clenched at the sight of her while something decidedly lower had also bobbed its amen. He remembered the way she’d offered a coy smile before glancing away from his intense gaze and how a jolt of electricity had accompanied their handshake. Most important he remembered the way that no matter how hard he tried all evening, he seemed to not be able to corner her; less than an hour into the party he’d found out she’d already left. Something about an upset stomach, Jackson had said. Upon finding out that she was gone, he’d shrugged off the attraction, hadn’t given her a second thought. Until tonight. But ever since he’d seen her tonight, he knew that her slipping through his fingers again was not an option. Not the way she was swinging that hair and wearing that dress, with a body so vivacious it should have come with a warning sign. Dangerous Curves Ahead.

Donovan looked at his Rolex and then watched as the brother who was also at the bar finished his drink and passed a business card to the blonde seated between them before he walked out the door. The blonde turned to Donovan.

“What a jerk,” she said as she tore the business card in half before offering him a flirty look. Donovan gave her an understanding smile before turning his chair to face the bar’s liquor-covered shelves. He was sympathetic but not interested. Not tonight anyway. It had now been twenty minutes since Marissa had promised to meet him in fifteen. Leaning back in the comfy bar chair, he took another slow, deliberate sip of wine. His mother had taught him that anything worth having was worth waiting for. Donovan Drake was nothing if not a patient man.

* * *

Marissa pulled into the parking lot, her heart thumping with excitement. It seemed forever ago that she’d even consider giving a man her phone number, let alone meeting one for a drink. Her employer, Jackson, and anyone else who knew her would consider the night’s actions quite unlike her. But there was something about Donovan Drake that seemed different from the average man, something that made her feel safe and protected. He exuded a type of authority that you could only be born with, yet had a way of making you feel comfortable in his presence. Oh, and there was that minor detail about him being very good-looking. Not in a pretty-boy way like Trey Songz or Boris Kodjoe, or even in a Dayum! sort of fashion like his tall, hunky brother, Dexter. No, Donovan’s good looks were as much from what was within as the package without.

This is why she’d ignored the fact that at the moment, she wasn’t supposed to be interested in the opposite sex, that after the betrayal she’d endured from a so-called friend, work and continuing her education were the only two things that were supposed to have her attention. But the smile currently on her face had nothing to do with executive assistant work or landing a graduate degree in business administration, and everything to do with a tall, strapping male, one she’d thought of intermittently since being introduced to him months before. Then, as now, there had been nothing about the six-foot-tall, broad-shouldered sculpture of brown sugar that she hadn’t liked. Not his smoldering cocoa eyes, his juicy lips, his wide, thick eyebrows or that hint of a cleft that kissed the middle of a strong jawline. Nothing. This was probably why her heart raced as though she was on a first date. She felt she could fall in like with Donovan Drake very easily. She’d already fallen in lust.

“Let’s go, Marissa,” she encouraged herself. “It’s only a drink.” With one last look in the mirror and a quick sprucing up of her curly, shoulder-length tresses, Marissa got out of the car, got halfway between the parking lot and the tasting room door…and froze.

“Well, well, well.”

Thump, thump. Thump, thump. Her heartbeat was so loud it almost drowned out the voice she’d hoped to never hear again. At least not for a few lifetimes. Unfortunately this pitter-patter had nothing to do with the man for whom she lusted and everything to do with one she despised.

“Hello, Marissa.”

Figuring the faster she’d speak, the faster he’d leave, her lips parted. “Hello, Steven.”

“You’re looking good.”

Any comment she would have offered, if it existed, would have had a hard time squeezing past the tightness in her throat. The greeting had been hard enough.

Steven eyed her a moment longer before turning to look through the window at the wall-length bar just beyond them. Marissa immediately saw Donovan talking to the bartender. On one side of him was a tanned man with dark hair and a mustache; a blonde woman sat on his other side. A couple walked up and took two seats on the short side of the L-shaped counter. “Which one of them are you here to meet?”

Marissa swallowed her discomfort, squared her shoulders and tried to not show how totally uncomfortable she was seeing her former best friend again.

“I’ve purposely stayed away from Long Beach and certain areas of San Diego so that I don’t have to see you. And now, I find you conveniently in between the two at the exact same time as I am. Are you stalking me?”

Steven laughed, the sound sinister and hollow. When he replied, his eyes were cold. “Don’t flatter yourself.”

“Then how did you find me, Steven?”

“I wasn’t looking for you. Antonio’s band has a gig out this way. Not that it’s any of your business.” They continued eyeing each other a moment. “I see you still believe that bull those strangers told you.”

“That’s right. I still believe it. And I still meant what I said when it happened. If I have another confrontation with you, if you harass me in any way, I will get a restraining order.”

Steven shrugged. “You do whatever you feel you need to do. Handle your business, because I’m definitely going to handle mine.”

Marissa took a deep breath and tried another approach. “You know what, Steven? Somewhere inside you is a nice person. I knew him once. In fact, we used to be friends.”

“That good man is still right here,” Steven said with that boyish smile Marissa remembered. “In fact, that good man still wants to take our relationship to the next level. I’ve already seen you,” he said cockily, with a long, lascivious visual sweep of her body. “Might as well let me tap that—”

“That’s enough,” Marissa hissed between gritted teeth. She found the nerve of this former best friend infuriating. She wanted to lash out, curse him out. Remembering the darker moments of their shared history, she chose to stay calm and keep her wits about her.

And just in time, as it turned out.

“Which one of those jerks are you screwing?” Steven demanded, his brow creased in anger as he pointed toward the glass. “Which one did you offer on a silver platter what I couldn’t beg you out of? I told you I’d deal with whoever came between us.”

That’s right. He had told her, that last night they were together, the night that changed everything. It was why she hadn’t gone on a date in a very long time. It wasn’t worth putting a potential new friend at risk. The Steven McCain she’d known since college had been smart, funny and trustworthy. Or so she’d thought. Until that fateful night he’d tried to take their friendship to another level. By any means necessary. That’s when she’d begun to believe he might not be as nice as he’d seemed. Or as sane.

She looked from him to the window, saw Donovan glance at his watch. Dang it, I don’t even have Donovan’s cell phone number. But she had common sense, and she knew that to go in now, to get anywhere near Donovan, would not only result in an altercation, but would tell the lunatic standing in front of her more than he needed to know. Reluctantly, she turned back to her car. “Stay away from me, Steven,” she threw over her shoulder.

“My phone number is the same, Marissa, and you need to use it. Let’s get together, just to talk, I promise.” She kept on walking. “Remember I can blow the cover on that goody-two-shoes image you’re boasting.”

Marissa ignored him, got into her car, started the engine and sped away.

* * *

Donovan was getting just a bit antsy. Not at the fact that he might have been stood up, no, he’d seen the look of interest in Marissa’s eyes. And more than that, for some reason he felt she was a woman of her word. He definitely knew what the other type of woman looked like, the one who would say one thing and do another, the one who wouldn’t know the meaning of such words as honor, truth or integrity unless looked up in a dictionary. It had been a half hour since they’d parted. Should he entertain the remote possibility that she’d gotten into an accident? It seemed unlikely considering the short distance she would have traveled. Or could it be something much more likely, such as her having been sidetracked by someone at the party, like his mother?

Donovan’s eyes shifted from the window to the door, and he noticed the cocky-looking dude who’d been flirting with—translated, harassing—the cute blonde at the end of the bar watching a pair of taillights speed out of the parking lot. The man watched the car, a silver sporty number, as it turned onto the street, all the way until it was out of sight. Then he confidently walked to his black sedan and sped off, as well.

Donovan turned back to the bar and finished his wine. Then he reached for his phone and called his soon-to-be brother-in-law. “Boss, it’s Donovan. I’m looking for Marissa.”

“She’s not with you?”

“No. I thought she might have gotten sidetracked and was talking to either my mother or Diamond.”

“No, man, she left about fifteen, twenty minutes ago. She mentioned meeting you and told me she’d see me in the morning.”

An uncomfortable feeling came over Donovan as he turned back toward the parking lot. The scene he’d just witnessed replayed in his mind. “What kind of car does she drive?”

“A little two-door Honda Civic.”

“What color?”

“Silver, why?”

“Because I…never mind.”

“Donovan, wait—”

But he didn’t. Donovan ended the call, paid the tab and left the establishment. He’d bet money that it was Marissa’s car he’d seen leave the parking lot and figured that she knew the cocky dude no doubt now hot on her trail. The identity of the man was not important, nor did Donovan care what business Marissa had with him. The only thing that was important was the fact that she’d left without coming in to see him.

There was one thought on Donovan’s mind as he thanked the bartender who’d waved away his attempt to pay him. One thought as he exited the establishment, tightened his collar against the cool air and walked to his car. How could I have so misjudged her? He would have bet money that Marissa Hayes was not fickle or shallow like so many of the women Dexter dated, and totally unlike the last woman he’d trusted with his heart. He would have bet money, big money.

Yes, and you would have lost.


Chapter 3

Four months later

The private room at Grapevine, the upscale restaurant at Drake Wines Resort and Spa, bustled with activity. The excitement in the air was almost tangible. Waiters went to and from the kitchen carrying trays of succulent appetizers: truffle-infused macaroni and cheese balls, lamb-stuffed mushroom caps, salmon satays, vegetable kebabs, pecan-crusted shrimp on a stick and breaded parmesan artichoke hearts. Conversation flowed as smoothly as the wine. A mixture of instrumental music—jazz, classical and R & B—provided a nonintrusive backdrop, and the four-dozen guests enjoying the evening were as beautiful as the freshly cut calla lilies that graced each table’s centerpiece.

“You know what’s so amazing?” Jackson walked up to his soon-to-be brother-in-law and stood beside him. “She’s as beautiful a person on the inside as she is on the outside.”

A crease of frustration crossed Donovan’s brow. “Who?”

Jackson chuckled.

Instead of responding to the obvious taunt, Donovan turned his head away from the vixen across the room. If only his lower head would follow suit and stop twitching like a snake after a shiny red apple. Even though said “apple” filled out the back of the navy slacks she wore to perfection. He’d tried once before with Jackson’s executive assistant, the lovely Marissa Hayes, and while she’d finally explained why she’d arrived at the Inland Empire tasting room but hadn’t come inside, he’d still taken it as a sign to back off. He need look no further than his younger brother to see the kind of drama that could accompany an attractive woman. Dexter thrived on that type of foolishness. Donovan, not so much.

Which is why when he needed a particular itch scratched, there was a nice, widowed woman in San Diego to do the job. Straightforward, uncomplicated, that had been their arrangement. Each had grown-up needs, and neither was looking for more than physical fulfillment and occasional company. Or at least that’s how it had been until five months ago when Ms. Widowed had joined a dating website, met a man and moved to Cleveland. Donovan had intended to find a replacement, but the company’s latest project, a major expansion that would introduce high-end Drake Wines to an upscale Asian market and then, if successful, to the rest of the world had thrown his schedule into a tizzy and put Donovan into a prolonged period of unintended abstinence.

When he’d seen Marissa, truth be told, he’d been more than ready to get back in the sexual game. He didn’t even want to think about why, since meeting one certain curvy cutie on that fateful night in February, he couldn’t seem to develop an interest in any other female. The international expansion had provided the positive jolt he needed. Not only was the company developing a line of high-end wines specifically for this market, but during the holidays they were finally going to unveil an exclusive champagne that Dexter, under the watchful eye and guidance of his mentor, Papa Dee, had been working on for many years. And finally, there was the partnership that the Drakes of California had entered into with their cousins, the Drakes of Louisiana. This family of six sons had made their name in the world of real estate and had broken into the Asian market five years ago. One of their latest successes was a line of trendy wine bars that, as of next year, would feature an exclusive line of Drake Wines, including the new champagne. As busy as the year had been so far, the next six months were going to be even busier. Donovan was glad there was no time for a relationship, but wasn’t too appreciative of the booty that kept reminding him it was past time for something else.

“Why don’t you take my advice and go talk to her?” Jackson stared straight ahead, too, a slight smile belying the seriousness of his tone. It wasn’t often that he saw The Don rattled.

“Man, I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Donovan said, finally cutting his eyes in Jackson’s direction.

“You might not know what I’m talking about. But you definitely know who I’m talking about.”

“There are eight women in that circle on the other side of the room. Why do you think I’m looking at Marissa?”

Jackson laughed out loud. “That’s why!”

Donovan shook his head and forced his eyes away from one of his sister’s bridesmaids and Jackson’s assistant; he turned to face Jackson directly. “I know you and Diamond are set on matchmaking, but you know your girl stood me up, right?” Donovan hurried on when Jackson would have argued. “She didn’t meet me because something, or more specifically someone, came up. But the fact that she wouldn’t offer any explanation as to why his seeing her with me would have been a problem, after telling me that this guy wasn’t an ex-boyfriend but an ex-friend?” Donovan shook his head. “It’s just too strange and complicated for me, you know? Besides, I have enough on my plate right now.” He observed Jackson’s doubtful expression. “Really, I’m good.”

“Yeah, well, you should let your face know,” was Jackson’s dry retort. “Because when I see you look at Marissa…your face tells a different story.”

Donovan turned and walked away. Since Jackson was such an expert at interpreting body language, he figured that the “I’m done with this conversation” move would be an easy read. Through three courses he continued to brood. Deciding to skip dessert, he nodded at a couple of the groomsmen as he made his way from the private dining room where the rehearsal dinner was being held to the veranda beyond it. He opened the door, stepped out into the warm wrap of a June evening and inhaled his mother’s contribution to the resort’s design: gardenia, jasmine and honeysuckle flowers climbing up arbors, clinging to lattices and lining the planters that ran the length of the porch. The sky was clear, with brilliant stars shining like diamonds against an inky sky. One of the things he loved about the sky over Temecula was how the shades of blue played off of one another long into the night. Even now, at almost ten o’clock and with the sun long since having bid its adieu for the evening, earth’s ceiling did not strike a monochromatic chord. The sky was streaked with shades of blue, and wisps of nearly transparent clouds added a hazy, almost surreal quality to the night. Donovan peered at the sky, the deep, deep blue and thought of…navy slacks and plump behinds and how he’d like to—

Buzz.

Thankful for the interruption, Donovan quickly fished his cell phone from his slacks and checked the ID. “Hello, Sharon. This is a surprise. What are you doing up so late?” Donovan’s longtime assistant Sharon Brockman’s early bedtime ritual was a running joke between them. If she were up past ten o’clock, weekday or weekend, it was a late night.

“Donovan, I’m in the hospital.”

“Oh, no, Sharon. I’m so sorry to hear that.” And he was, for many reasons. Like Kathleen Fitzpatrick, Sharon had worked at the vineyard for years, almost from the beginning. She was less an employee and more a member of the family. “What happened?”

“The pain came back, but stronger this time. They just ran a battery of tests on me and, Donovan, I’m afraid that my coming back to work on Monday doesn’t look good. The doctors think I’ll likely have to have surgery. I know we were trying to avoid that, or at least put it off until sometime next month, but my body isn’t cooperating.”

As much as he needed his assistant right now, Donovan was immediately concerned more about Sharon’s welfare and less about how her absence would affect the company’s productivity. When she’d felt the sharp pain a couple days ago, Sharon had told him she thought it was an embarrassing case of internal hemorrhoids, something she’d dealt with off and on since having her now-grown children. She’d taken over-the-counter medicines and, with the help of prescription-strength aspirin, had come back to work the next day saying she was as good as new. Obviously, that was not the case.

Donovan’s voice was laced with concern. “Do they know what it is?”

“A colon tear, brought on by an infection that I didn’t know I had. I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t even think about apologizing for something you can’t control. The main concern here is you getting better. I don’t want you to focus on anything but that.”

“But the project. I know how you feel about the confidential nature—”

“Don’t worry about it. Sharon, I’m serious. There’s nothing more important than your getting well. We’ll be okay here until you get back.”

“How does one’s colon’s tear anyway?”

An inquisitive mind, a love for research and attention to detail were just a few of the qualities that made Sharon a top-notch assistant. “I’m sure that before you leave that hospital, you’ll know at least as much about what’s going on as the doctor.”

“Donovan, my daughter is rushing me off the phone. Because of her, I’ll probably feel more pain in the you-know-what than if I had hemorrhoids!”

“Ha! Give Patrice my phone number so that during your surgery she can keep me updated. And I meant what I said, Sharon. Don’t worry about work—we’ll be fine. Focus on getting better.”

Donovan ended the call and then heaved a sigh. Talk about bad timing. A couple unplanned sales trips, not to mention his increased jaunts to Louisiana, plus the festivities surrounding Diamond’s wedding had put him way behind. They were all part of the reason the Herculean task of setting up the database and then inputting the more than ten thousand potential customers for this group of exclusive wines, plus marking out business partners and naming the product—all tasks requiring the utmost confidentiality—had been pushed back to the two-week period following the wedding when the resort had calmed back down. This delay, and another inevitable interruption, otherwise known as the upcoming Fourth of July holiday, and he was pushed right up against an unmovable timeline. Attorneys, accountants, consultants and other participating third parties were all lined up, waiting and ready to put their piece of this new financially rewarding puzzle in place.

Dammit!

“Wow, it’s beautiful out here.” Donovan closed his eyes against the sound of the woman that Sharon’s call had helped put out of his mind. Marissa stood beside him as he leaned across the railing. “Do you mind if I join you?”

“It’s public property,” Donovan replied huffily. He pushed off of the railing, stuffed his hands in his pocket and moved away a couple feet.

Marissa eyed his actions in slight amazement. Was he really still simmering over what happened months ago? That she hadn’t shown up for a lousy glass of wine? She’d told him that she’d arrived at the bar and she’d told him why she had left. What else did he want from her? An apology written in blood?

The rehearsal dinner was over so the logical thing for Marissa to do was to turn around without another word and head back to the peace and quiet of her San Diego apartment. But logic had obviously gone on vacation and its nemesis, crazy, was calling the shots. So Marissa pressed forward. “The rehearsal dinner went well, and the hill is such a perfect place for the ceremony. Diamond’s wedding is going to be lovely.”

His silence was deafening.

“I would wonder whether or not you’ve been taught manners, but since I’ve met your mother, I know that answer is yes. So I can only assume you’re being a jerk, still smarting over a slight that happened months ago.” Nothing moved on the veranda, not even the wind. “I can be ignored by you all night.” How well I’m dealing with it is another story altogether. There hadn’t been a moment all evening when Marissa hadn’t been aware of Donovan’s presence, how good he looked as Jackson’s best man and how much he was admired by the other women. “Your sister is marrying my boss, which means our paths may cross on occasion. I don’t think being civil is too much to ask.”

Donovan wheeled around in a manner so uncharacteristic that Marissa took a step back. “So I’m supposed to care about what you think?” The words came out in clipped fashion; his voice was low, almost too calm.

Later, Marissa would wonder at her uncharacteristically flippant response. “You can do what you want. But I’d think that someone of your intelligence would understand when a situation is untenable. As I stated before, given who I met in the parking lot, coming in to meet you in the restaurant would have been a problem.”

“You think you’re the only one who’s had a problem with the opposite sex? You don’t get to corner the market on bad situations, and I don’t have to engage you in friendly conversation.” The words hit their mark; evidenced by the frozen expression on Marissa’s face and the hurt look in her eyes. “Look, Marissa, I’m sorry to snap at you. I’ve got a lot on my mind.”

“And you obviously need a lot of room to think about all of what’s on there. I’ll leave you to it.” The click-clack of her heels sounded as she made quick work of the distance between the veranda’s edge and the door. Going after her was not an option. Not only would that capture every Drakes’ attention within a one-mile radius but he wouldn’t have a clue of what to say about his brutish behavior. Obviously, he’d said too much already.


Chapter 4

The female guests had been asked to wear designs in predominate shades of purple or blue, meant to complement the brilliant cobalt sky of a picture-perfect summer day. The men had been told to dress in casual suits, shades of tan, beige or ivory preferred. Wanting her wedding to be visually coordinated in these hues, the color black had been highly discouraged. Okay, banned. All two hundred guests had complied, causing the people bouquet to match the appropriately tinted flowers: tie-dyed dendrobium orchids, irises, anemones, hydrangea, roses and million star baby’s breath. The bridesmaids wore various shades of blue or tan while the maid of honor’s dress was a rich, deep navy, which matched the best man’s suit. The groomsmen carried on the tan/beige/ivory theme, a nod to the mounds surrounding the golf course and the stone pathways that could be seen from the hill. Kathleen Fitzpatrick’s granddaughter was the flower girl, a redheaded bundle of fluffy baby-blue organza. The maid of honor’s ivory-suited son bore the rings. Both Diamond and Jackson wore dazzling white, and they looked not only amazing, but ridiculously in love. The tearjerker had been when three generations of Drakes—Diamond’s father, Donald; her grandfather David, Jr.; and her great-grandfather, David, Sr.—walked her down the aisle. The comic relief had come when Papa Dee nudged Jackson, tilted his head toward Diamond and said, “That’s one feisty filly. Best watch yourself.” No matter that the loudly whispered suggestion was only heard by the first two rows. It became the most repeated statement of the day. Best watch yourself. The temperature had been a forgiving seventy-two degrees; the greenery of the vineyard and surrounding lawns had wrapped all of them in nature’s flawless tranquility.

It was, quite simply, the most beautiful wedding Marissa had ever witnessed. That she’d gotten to see it all from the position of bridesmaid, and given the fact that Diamond’s large wedding entourage had made her role one mostly of administrative support, Marissa should have been almost as happy as the bride. But she wasn’t. Even now, the smile she wore was as pasted on as the tail of the donkey at a six-year-old’s birthday party. The banter she’d kept up for Diamond’s sake as they rode in the pimped-out golf cart (white tulle, Swarovski-encrusted canopied top, spinning hubcaps—yes, on a golf cart) that whisked them from the gazebo-covered hilltop to the dress change awaiting in the main house, was more to stifle her own thoughts than to ensure Diamond’s continued good mood.

Bottom line? Marissa was masking an emotional odor that stank to high heavens. She was, simply stated, in a funk.

Anyone watching would have had to admit she was nothing if not a trouper, prattling on while working to not become engulfed in the endless yards of Diamond’s puffy chiffon, twenty-foot court train. It didn’t matter that Diamond and her brand-new husband, Jackson, were riding in the middle row of the six-seater golf cart, directly in front of her. The train’s presence was everywhere. “Your great-grandfather was so funny, and his more seriously delivered words of wisdom were amazing,” Marissa continued, maneuvering the train and talking as if her voice would disappear if the words stopped. “What he said about the long slow walk beating a fast sprint any day—” she chuckled “—everyone listening knew exactly what that meant! I can’t believe that he’s almost a hundred years old. He doesn’t look a day over eighty, seventy even.” Even in her frazzled state of mind she thought that saying someone looked eighty didn’t sound good, even though she’d just shaved twenty years off someone’s existence. “Well, what I meant to say was—”

“It’s all right, Marissa,” Diamond said, her hand in midair to ward off the oratorical flow. “And I don’t mean to be rude. I just need to gather my thoughts and…” The sentence died on Diamond’s lips as Jackson placed his arm around her shoulders.

“Of course.” Marissa looked between her boss and Diamond and for the first time noticed a strain on her face. Considering how flawless the ceremony had gone, and given the meticulous organization of the upcoming dinner and dance, what was there to be worried about? “I’m sorry, girl, going on and on like that.” Jackson gave an almost imperceptible nod, one that Marissa caught only because he’d been her employer for several years. His expression prompted her to ask the question that must have shown in her eyes. Her voice lowered to a near whisper as she looked at Diamond. “What’s wrong?” She noticed Diamond’s deep breath, and she could have sworn that tears also threatened. “What is it?” Marissa asked again with growing concern.

“We received some troubling news last night. One of our employees had emergency surgery and is in very critical condition.”

Marissa placed a hand on her friend’s arm. “I’m so sorry, Diamond. Was it someone who works in the PR department?”

Diamond shook her head. “It’s Donovan’s assistant. Sharon has been with the company for twenty years. She’s like family to us all.”

Donovan’s assistant. Like family. That’s what was wrong last night. The reason he’d been quiet after the rehearsal dinner, and so withdrawn… No wonder he’d lashed out at her. I’m sorry to snap at you. I’ve got a lot on my mind.

By the time she’d rounded the golf cart to help Diamond and the maid of honor with the gargantuan train, four more carts had pulled up behind them. Her personal assistant for the day, a young college intern working in PR for the summer, jumped out of the cart and was at Diamond’s side in an instant. Jackson shooed him away as he turned, lifted Diamond from the cart and deftly placed her on the ground. The rest of the wedding entourage, including Diamond’s stylist, hairdresser and makeup artist, all began walking toward the building where Diamond would change into her second dress. It was a good thing that there were so many people to help, leaving any assistance needed from Marissa to be minimal at best. Because all she could think about was Donovan and how unfairly she’d treated him.

She’d been so quick to lump him into the jerk category with the rest of the men she’d recently encountered when nothing could have been further from the truth. The eldest Drake sibling was just as she’d first believed him to be: considerate and thoughtful, and now she could add caring. He’d been preoccupied with his concern for someone else, someone who wasn’t even a family member but a longtime employee. It’s how Jackson would have reacted, with fierce loyalty and unwavering focus. That’s because her boss, Jackson Wright, was a good man. Now, she was convinced that the same was true of Donovan Drake. And before the end of the day, come hell or high water, she was going to let him know how she felt.


Chapter 5

“That was a beautiful toast, brother,” Jackson said once Donovan had taken his seat and the applause had subsided. They were seated on a raised dais facing the wedding guests seated at round tables of ten.

“Meant every word. There was a time when I doubted whether or not you were good enough for my sister.”

“And now?”

“Couldn’t find a better brother.” Donovan felt his phone vibrate. His body instantly tensed as he pulled it from his pocket and discreetly held it under the table as he read the message.

“Everything okay?” Jackson asked.

Donovan sighed. “Get Diamond’s attention.” Jackson tapped Diamond and gave her a kiss as she turned to face him. Her lips met Jackson’s, but then her eyes were squarely on her brother. “Did they text you?”

Donovan nodded. “They are scheduling another surgery first thing tomorrow.”

“On a Sunday?” Diamond sounded shocked. “Donovan, I totally understand if you need to leave and go to the hospital.”

Donovan slowly nodded, knowing the strain of the situation was showing on his face.

“Oh, wow,” Diamond continued, as if finally understanding the gravity of the entire situation.“Your project! You’re supposed to be pulling it all together in the next two weeks.”

“I know,” Donovan said, hating to bring such a topic into their wedding celebration but knowing that Diamond totally understood.

“What are you going to do?”

“I don’t know. I thought about asking Mama to help—”

Diamond released an unladylike snort. “Good luck with that.” While Genevieve had worked in the offices during the first couple years, she’d been a stay-at-home and run-the-home mother for more than three decades.

“What about Marissa?” Jackson asked, looking at Donovan. After not getting an immediate answer, he swung his head toward his wife. “What do you think, baby? There isn’t going to be anything major happening at my company while I’m away, and—” he turned and continued the thought with Donovan in his line of sight “—whatever your project entails, I’m sure Marissa can handle it. She’s an intelligent woman who catches on quick and has a knack for breaking the big picture into manageable bites. You know what, Donovan? I like the idea. Your project is of a sensitive nature, and I know that Marissa could be trusted with this confidential material. Right, baby?”

Diamond looked at her new husband with a smile. “No doubt. Marissa seems loyal to a fault.”

A scowl passed across Jackson’s face so quickly that Donovan thought he imagined it. “If you give her something to do, she’ll get the job done.”

Diamond took a sip of her champagne. “What do you say, brother? I think Jackson has suggested a solution to your problem, and, while we’ll all not totally rest until Sharon is well, at least this part of your business will only be minimally affected.”

Their conversation was interrupted as their father, Donald Drake, stood to make a toast. Several other toasts followed and the dinner service began. Halfway through the entrée, a delectable combination of Dungeness crab, Kobe beef tenderloin, Bhutanese rice and steamed vegetables, Jackson made a move that had it not been for the deliciousness of the food would have ruined Donovan’s appetite. He requested a pen and pad from one of the floating waiters, then quickly scribbled ten numbers onto the sheet of Drake Resort stationery. Above the numbers was one word: Marissa. And without even thinking about it, Donovan knew that the number on that paper was a game changer. He didn’t know the name of the game or the rules. But he knew who would be playing.

* * *

It was a shame to waste such delicious food, but Marissa couldn’t get a bite of the tender beef or a spear of the perfectly steamed broccoli past the lump in her throat. Didn’t matter. If she had, the food would have just collided with the knot in her stomach. She was seated at a table with other bridesmaids and groomsmen, including Reginald, one of Donovan’s first cousins, who’d been bugging her nonstop ever since they’d been paired up for the walk down the aisle. He wasn’t a bad-looking guy. In fact, he was fine: tall, butterscotch complexion, a pretty boy. Nice enough, too. Another time, another day and she would have been interested. But her thoughts, and eyes, kept shifting to Donovan, who for better or worse was seated directly in her line of vision. She’d watched as her boss conversed with him and Diamond, and she’d also noticed when one of the waiters was summoned. Unfortunately, Reginald, the determined groomsmen from New Orleans, chose this time to begin a lengthy conversation—translated, monologue, because “ums” and head nods could hardly be counted as contributions—about some type of business that was expanding in Asia that later, for the life of her, Marissa would not be able to recall. She tried to split her focus between what her tablemate was saying and what was happening on the dais beyond her but Reginald asked her a question and by the time she answered it and looked up, the waiter was leaving the head table, Jackson was talking to Diamond and Donovan was sitting there with a frown on his face. What had happened?

“Should I take your silence as a no?”

Marissa turned to Reginald. “I’m sorry, my mind—” attention, interest, focus, you name it “—was elsewhere. What did you say?”

“I asked if you’d ever attended the Essence Music Festival.”

“No, I haven’t.”

“But you’ve been to New Orleans before, right?”

“Actually, no.” And if there’s a chance I’ll run into your nonstop chatter, I probably won’t make it down there anytime soon! Marissa immediately felt bad at the thought. Considering that she’d been the oratorical fountain earlier in the day she really was one to, well, talk.

“You should. It’s a very nice event. In fact, we should exchange phone numbers and keep in touch. Our family is quite involved in various entities of the city, and we get VIP tickets to all of the parties and the concerts, of course. Then there are the private affairs that happen around town. I know that place like the back of my hand, could walk the streets in my sleep. Especially the French Quarter with its hotels, clubs, restaurants and impromptu jam sessions all up and down Bourbon Street. Have you ever had a beignet? Because if you haven’t, after you’ve tried one you’ll never look at a donut the same again. They’re crispy on the outside, light and fluffy on the inside and…”

Try as she might to be courteous and attentive, the rest of Reginald’s conversation was a bunch of blah, blah, blah. Thankfully the toasts continued and shortly after they’d taken away the dessert plates, Diamond and Jackson were cutting the cake. Everyone spilled from their places at the tables to witness the traditional cutting and made room on the floor for the newlywed’s first dance. This was the moment Marissa had been waiting for. In between Reginald’s rambling, she’d thought of the perfect way to get Donovan to herself, have him close enough to let him know exactly what was on her mind. But when she mustered up the nerve and crossed over to where she’d last seen him…he was gone.


Chapter 6

“Good morning, son,” Genevieve said, opening the front door and giving Donovan a hug as he entered. “This is a pleasant surprise.”

Until yesterday’s wedding, Diamond had lived in the east wing of the estate. Dexter’s domain was on the west side of the house. His mother insisted on maintaining a room for her eldest on the property, even though four years ago Donovan had purchased a Mediterranean-style, ocean-view home in La Jolla, a tony suburb of San Diego that was about an hour from his parents. For the past two years, until Ms. Widowed had changed her zip code, he’d lived there almost exclusively. During that time, he was a frequent dinner guest at the Drake estate but was rarely seen for breakfast.

Therefore Donovan understood, even expected, her surprise. “Morning, Mom.” He followed her into a sitting room where she’d obviously been having tea.

“Should I pour you a cup, darling? If you’re hungry, there’s plenty of the breakfast casserole left. That’s what we had this morning.”

“Tea sounds good.”

After pouring the tea and, against Donovan’s wishes, retrieving a plate of homemade pastries from the kitchen, Genevieve explained simply, “Your grandmother made these.”

“Oh, well, I definitely can’t turn down her cooking.” Though internal stress over his assistant’s condition and the current workweek had lessened his appetite, he reached for one of the cinnamon rolls, then closed his eyes as he chewed the heavenly goodness. “This is delicious.”

“How is Sharon?” Genevieve asked as she stirred her tea. “Dexter told me that that was why you left early.”

“Yes. I knew how frightened her daughter had to be waiting for family to arrive from back east. Diamond encouraged me to go, and it was the right thing to do.”

“And how is she?”

“The surgery was a success, but she’s going to remain in ICU until they can be sure that no additional infection has set in.”

Genevieve nodded. “I’ll call later this morning and, if she’s up to it, go visit her tomorrow. If you haven’t already, remember to send flowers. Speaking of, who’s covering for Sharon while she recuperates?”

“A temporary agency is sending someone to handle the day-to-day. But there’s so much going on with the international expansion. Dexter would normally pick up the slack, but he has his hands full with the cousins and developing the line for stocking their wine bars.”

“Donald mentioned that these next couple weeks are very crucial for you, Donovan. All the more reason why your visit this morning, with so much going on, is a surprise.” After a companionable silence she continued, “What can I do for you, son?”

Now that he was here, the speech that Donovan had rehearsed in his mind seemed lame and the idea that precipitated this talk even lamer. But his trusted assistant was in the hospital and his back was against the wall. After a fitful night’s sleep, he’d wavered in the decision to work with Marissa. As sound as the advice Jackson had given and Diamond had readily seconded was, Donovan knew that being around that cup of hot chocolate would be a major distraction, and, quite frankly, he wasn’t sure he could maintain professionalism instead of trying to take a few sips. So with one last bite of Grandmother Mary’s cinnamon roll for fortification, he began.

“I need your help, Mom, professionally.”

“Professionally?” Genevieve repeated with an arched brow as she set down her cup.

“Yes. Our partners in Asia have a database of over ten thousand potential customers for our wines. Unfortunately, the data was input in Chinese and, while we have some software that will do the translation, we can’t download their file directly from their system to ours. The entries will have to be done manually. Aside from Sharon, Kathleen would have been the only person I could have trusted, but unfortunately Diamond had already promised her this week off.”

“Your back is against the wall for sure, son. But how can I help?”

“Mom,” he said, looking her in the eye. “I’d like your help with the international project.”

“You’re asking me to be your assistant, Donovan? Inputting this data, these tens of thousands of companies?”

Hearing it from his mother’s mouth, Donovan felt he had more of a chance of the First Lady coming to help him than Genevieve Drake. “I know it’s a lot to ask. But because of the information’s sensitivity, my options are sorely limited.”

“You talked to your dad about this?”

It was a fair question. Donovan talked to his dad about everything. “No.” Almost. “I thought there was no need to ask Dad without asking you first.”

“Really?”

Yeah, I don’t believe it either.

“Because had you done so, you’d know that your father and I are handling some family business this week.”

“What kind of family business?” Nothing happened with one Drake that the others didn’t know about.

“With all of the activity surrounding your sister’s wedding, we hadn’t had time to tell you about this. But we’re finally going to divide up that property on my mother’s side. You know it’s going to be crazy with everybody trying to get their piece of the pie. I’d just as soon deed my part to whoever wants it just to keep the peace. But not my sister. She’s determined that some cousins, who weren’t on speaking terms with their great-aunt’s brother, won’t get so much as a teaspoon of dirt! She wants me to come down to support her.”

Donovan sat back and rubbed his brow. The timing of this situation sucked.

“Donovan, even if this trip weren’t planned, I’d be like a fish out of water in the office. Not to mention navigating the dynamic of your being my boss.”

“I’d go easy on you.”

“You’d have a choice?”

“Ha! Guess not.”

Donovan knew he was out of all options except one. And with that he picked up his cell and made a call.

“Hello.”

“Marissa, this is Donovan.” Okay, man. Here we go.


Chapter 7

She almost asked, “Donovan who?” Such was her surprise. But in Marissa’s world, there was only one. The one she’d been thinking of almost incessantly since yesterday. The one whose voice was the last one she’d imagined hearing today.

“Hello.” And again, the type of silence between them that begged for a word…or a cricket chirp.

“Yes, Marissa, do you have a minute?”

I’m about to have a heart attack, but that wasn’t your question. She cleared her throat. “Yes. I’m glad you called, Donovan,” she said, determined to straighten her big-girl backbone and act like she’d known how to converse since the age of two. “I wanted to apologize for snapping at you after the rehearsal dinner. Diamond told me that your assistant, Sharon, had to have surgery, and I’m sure the news was stressful to you. I hope she’ll be doing better soon.”

“Your apology is accepted, and I hope you’ll accept mine, as well. Stress is never a reason to be rude. I’m sorry for snapping back.”

“So how is she?”

“Doing better, thanks.” Marissa waited for further comment. She’d said what she wanted to say; now it was up to Donovan to say why he’d called. “Jackson gave me your number before he left.”

“Oh.”

“It’s work related,” Donovan quickly clarified.

“Oh.”

Amazing how the same word could be said in two totally different ways.

Marissa heard Donovan chuckle, and the sound sent an unexpected shiver down her spine. Instantly, she realized two things. One, she hadn’t heard Donovan laugh before, and two, she really liked how it sounded: warm and deep, like the still waters she felt flowed beneath that professional, businesslike exterior he showed to the world.

“That probably came out wrong. I just didn’t want you to get the impression that I was trying to hit on you.”

“Okay,” Marissa said, drawing out the word.

“This hole just keeps getting deeper, doesn’t it?”

“You are kinda giving a shovel some competition.”

“Then I’ll get to the point. Jackson said that the administrative workload at Boss Construction would be fairly light these next two weeks, and he volunteered you for a project I’m working on.”

“I thought the mice were supposed to play when the boss was away.”

“That’s usually the way it works. Perhaps when he gets back I can talk him into giving you an extra week’s vacation as compensation…along with the money you’ll be paid for your work here.”

“So I’m going to continue receiving my salary through Boss Construction and you’re going to pay me?”

“That’s right.”

“Well, Donovan, that’s a hard offer to refuse.” Believing that Donovan was waiting for her answer, she asked him, “When do I start?”

“Bright and early tomorrow morning, let’s say nine o’clock. Also, you live in San Diego, correct?”

“Right.”

“I live in La Jolla, but because of the intensity of these next two weeks, I’m staying at the resort. Would it be a problem for you to stay here, as well? We’ll be keeping late hours, and staying here will alleviate the time you’d spend in rush hour traffic.”

For many reasons, including a man whose unexpected reappearance in her life had left her paranoid and whose motives were still unclear, she didn’t hesitate. “No, Donovan, that wouldn’t be a problem at all. You said for two weeks, correct?”

“Yes.”

“Does that include the weekend?”

“I’m sorry, Marissa, but probably yes. We’ll more than likely be working around the clock.”

“That’s fine, I just wanted to know how much to pack.”

“Any other questions?”

“No. I guess I’ll learn everything about the project tomorrow.”

“That you will. I’ll see you then.”

“Okay, Donovan. I’ll see you tomorrow morning.”

Marissa ended the call and felt a flutter of nervousness in her stomach. She knew that her uneasiness had nothing to do with whether or not she could handle the assignment and everything to do with whether or not she could handle the man.

* * *

The following morning, a bright and sunny Monday without a cloud in the sky, a fairly confident Marissa arrived at Drake Wines Resort and Spa. She entered the lobby and followed the gold-plated signs past the still-closed gift shop, up a flight of stairs to the second floor and down a hallway to a set of double doors. Hesitating for just a second, just long enough to take a calming breath, she opened the door, stepped inside and walked up to the young woman seated behind a low-slung counter.

“Hello. May I help you?”

“Yes, Marissa Hayes to see Donovan Drake.”

The perky receptionist with the warm, sincere smile touched a button on her switchboard. After announcing that Marissa had arrived, she asked if Marissa wanted a morning beverage. After Marissa declined, the receptionist directed her to a seat in a cozily designed waiting area just across from the receptionist counter. Instead of sitting, Marissa took the time to admire the brightly colored artwork, the bronze table whatnots and the live jade plant.

“Ms. Hayes?” Marissa turned to see another smiling, welcoming face. As she followed this assistant back through a beautifully appointed space—silk-covered, beige-colored walls, deep-ply tan carpeting, burnished mahogany and accessories in various metals—she was struck by the irony of life, how not so long ago her world seemed bleak and almost unbearable. Her parents’ relocation, a friend’s betrayal and leaving a job she loved as a result of that betrayal had sent Marissa’s world into turmoil where she questioned all and trusted none. Then she’d met Jackson Wright and got the job with Boss Construction. The work, her fellow employees and her trustworthy boss became her anchors, and she was content to build her world around them. She hadn’t thought about dating or bringing a significant other into her life. So why was she thinking about it now?

The answer was just around the corner, talking on the phone as he waved her in. The assistant who’d brought her to Donovan’s office gave a brief nod and closed the door on her way out. Marissa forced herself to meet Donovan’s eyes, hooded brown treasures that seemed to drink her in as she walked to one of two chocolate-colored leather chairs in front of his massive oak desk. She sat down, placed her hands in her lap, feigned a deep interest in the trappings of Donovan’s office and resigned herself to the fact that these were going to be the longest two weeks of her life.


Chapter 8

“I look forward to meeting with you. Ha! Yes, I’ll pack my golf clubs. You’re past due for a whipping on the green. All right then, goodbye.” Donovan stood as he placed the phone back on the cradle. “Good morning,” he said with his hand outstretched, his tone clipped and businesslike.

“Good morning.” Marissa stood and clasped his hand.

And there was that jolt of electricity again.

“Ooh! I must have…rubbed my heel against the carpet.”

Donovan quickly removed his hand and walked back behind his desk. He was not at all happy at his body’s reaction to seeing Marissa this morning, or at her audacity to look so delicious. This is work; not a fashion show! “I see there’s one thing I forgot to mention,” he said as they both retook their seats. “Initially, you’ll be spending a lot of time retrieving information from stored boxes and then schlepping those files containing the information here to be inputted into our database. Did you pack anything more casual?” Plain, dowdy, loose-fitting, something that doesn’t hug your curves like a sports car?




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