by Jasmine Hill
Makayla frowned. “Thank you, Grace. She’s been on about Dad quite a bit lately. Why don’t we leave Mum here to doze and you come join me in the kitchen while I put something together for dinner.”
Makayla settled Mrs. Young at the table with a cup of tea then puttered around the kitchen, only half listening to her neighbor chatting about what had happened at her weekly bingo night. She enjoyed these times when she felt relaxed and at peace. She liked listening to Mrs. Young’s idle gossip as she prepared their evening meal and even laughed at her neighbor’s unwarranted cooking advice.
The truth was that both she and Mrs. Young enjoyed each other’s company. Makayla for a brief respite, hearing mindless dialog, and Grace for being the provider of said dialog. Makayla valued the times when her mother could join them for dinner. However, in her down days, Josephine didn’t eat a great deal and was anything but social. Makayla and Mrs. Young avoided sedating her when possible, except Josephine’s increasing instability was worrying, and Makayla had instructed Grace to give her a mild sedative if she was concerned about her mother’s intentions. She abhorred medicating her in such a way, but she couldn’t see an alternative. Her mother was beautiful, fun-loving and gregarious. Lately, though, nothing seemed to settle her or calm her. Mrs. Young was too old to gallivant about the countryside in search of Makayla if Mum did a disappearing act, so for the moment, they were left with few alternatives.
She shook off her feeling of melancholy and prepared a light meal of marinated grilled chicken and vegetables, which Mrs. Young tucked into with gusto. Makayla’s appetite was not as hearty and she only picked at her meal, her mind returning again and again to Donovan King. She also worried about her mother and she determined to make a doctor’s appointment first thing Monday morning. She wasn’t relishing the visit, however, as she knew that he would once again start in on her mother needing intensive therapy. Makayla couldn’t seem to get across to him that it was impossible—at least impossible to get her decent and worthwhile care—without sufficient funds. Her only savior was the fact that her mother had not proven to be a danger to anyone, herself excluded. Her ups consisted of her doing ridiculous, personally reckless things, like the time she’d disappeared for four days. Makayla had eventually found her in a hotel in the next state, looking disheveled and exhausted after having spent her time partying at the local bars. In her down days, it was an effort for Makayla even to get her out of bed. Makayla prayed that the doctor could find something to stabilize her mum’s moods and that at the very least her mother could start leading a semi-normal life.
She sighed in weariness. It was only seven on Friday evening and she felt like she could sleep for a week. Tomorrow was another day, she told herself. Perhaps there was light at the end of the tunnel.
She had one more thing that she wanted to do before she finally fell into bed—Google Donovan King.
Chapter Three
Makayla awoke slowly, her brain still sleep addled. She’d stayed up later than usual checking the Internet for Donovan King and had been surprised when Google had displayed hundreds of hits. According to the accounts, he was thirty-one and the owner of numerous nightclubs across Sydney. He attended various social and charity events and always had a beautiful woman hanging off his arm. She learned two things—he looked fantastic in a tuxedo and he seemed to have a bevy of beauties to choose from when he required a date. He was rarely seen with the same woman more than twice. Makayla wasn’t surprised. She knew just by his good looks and obvious sophistication that he wouldn’t ever be in want of female company. Was there someone particularly special to him? She wasn’t even sure why she’d bothered to appease her curiosity as it had just left her feeling depressed.
She stretched and checked her bedside clock—eight-thirty. Shit. Her mother had only taken a mild sedative, which meant that she would have been awake and alert in the early hours.
She jumped out of bed and raced next door to Josephine’s room, knocking once before barging in unannounced.
Her mother was sitting up in bed watching a morning talk show. “Hi, sweetie. What’s the emergency?”
Makayla almost withered on the spot in relief. “Hi, Mum. I was just checking to see if you were okay.”
Her mother opened her arms for a hug, and Makayla ran to her, enveloping her in a tight embrace. She stayed there for a moment, unwilling to let go. Her mother’s good times were becoming few and far between, and when she had them, Makayla wanted every moment to last.
“How are you feeling this morning, Mum?” Makayla gazed up at her. “You’re looking well.”
Her mother frowned. “I can’t recall going to bed last night.”
Makayla sat up and smiled. “That’s because Grace slipped you a Mickey.”
They looked at each other a moment then burst into peals of laughter.
“Oh, Makayla, was I that bad?” she asked, wiping tears of mirth from her eyes.
“No, Mum. Grace was just a little concerned. I was delivering the mending to my customers and she was worried that you were…in one of your moods.”
Her mothered sobered instantly. “Makayla, I’ve told you time and again that this isn’t healthy for you, or for me, for that matter. You’re young and you need to be out socializing. You need to be living your life, not stuck here day after day, looking after me.”
“Mum, let’s not ruin a good day by rehashing things.”
Her mother sighed. “Okay, but I want you to promise me that you’ll start looking out for you, Makayla. I know what my problems are doing to your life and it’s not fair.”
“I’ll make another appointment with Dr. Fraser. Hopefully a change in your meds will help stabilize your moods.”
Her mother gave her a sad smile. “We can only hope.”
* * * *
Donovan felt like a stalker. He’d been sitting outside Makayla’s house for two hours. He hadn’t worked out exactly what he was going to do if he did see her. He’d play that by ear. Acting like a lovesick puppy was so far outside his usual behavior as to be startling. He never chased women—he didn’t need to. Women had a propensity to throw themselves at him and he had an inclination to take advantage of that. Now here he was pursuing a woman, but he couldn’t seem to help himself. There was something about her that drew him and he knew he wouldn’t rest until he got closer to her. He recalled the frisson of electricity that had zapped through him when he’d touched her. Something, until it had happened to him, that he’d always dismissed as fancy. He’d also surreptitiously checked for any ring to indicate if she was taken. She hadn’t been wearing anything, but he knew that didn’t account for much. Still, she was young, too young to be married, at least in his estimation. He had to hope that there was no boyfriend on the scene.
As if in answer to his thoughts, the front door opened and she stepped out. His heart skipped a beat at the sight of her. Dressed in a long floral skirt and cardigan, she looked beautiful and fresh. She had piled her hair on top of her head, wavy tendrils framing her face. She wasn’t wearing those ugly black glasses and the difference to her face was striking. She strode down the path to the letterbox.
It’s now or never.
Donovan opened his car door and stepped out. She looked up at the sound and stopped dead, a frown crossing her features. He walked toward her slowly, not wanting to alarm her and more than aware that his appearance on her doorstep would look odd enough.
He smiled as he drew nearer. “Hi.” He shoved his hands in his pockets, hoping to affect a casual stance.
“Hello.” She drew the word out in obvious confusion.
“I know how this looks,” he started to explain. “I don’t usually follow women home. In fact, this is the first time.” He laughed. “But I had to see you again. Can I take you out for dinner?”
Chapter Four
Makayla was dumbfounded. This godlike creature had actually followed her home and was now asking her out? She couldn’t help but be a little suspicious. What could he possibly wan
t from her? She was hardly in the league of women he was usually seen out with. She wasn’t tall or sophisticated and she wasn’t particularly curvy. She was too slender. She eyed him doubtfully for a moment as she tried to formulate an answer to his question.
He grinned. “You don’t know me, of course. But I promise you that I’m not a deranged serial killer.” He handed her a business card.
Curiously, it wasn’t what Makayla had been thinking. He didn’t frighten her, even turning up as he had, but exactly the opposite—she was drawn to him. No, her suspicions were founded on something entirely different. She made a snap decision. What could it hurt to talk to him at least? She desperately needed a distraction. However, she didn’t think she’d be able to manage an evening out. Her mother’s state was too delicate.
“Actually, I am in your debt for helping me yesterday. Why don’t you come to dinner at my house tonight? I’ll cook for you. It’s…difficult for me to get out in the evenings. My mother isn’t well.” She hoped she sounded more confident than she felt. There was something about the man that rattled her. It was more than his impossibly good looks and rock-hard body—at least she was willing to bet he had a rock-hard body. It was an intensity he had about him when he looked at her, which gave her goosebumps and sent shivers rippling down her spine.
She looked up at him from beneath lowered lashes. Would he accept her offer or would he see it as too unattractive an activity? Particularly with the assumption that her mother would be included in the dinner. She was just about to withdraw the invitation as silly and thoughtless when he spoke up.
“I’d love to join you for dinner. I’ll bring the wine. What time should I arrive?”
“Does seven-thirty work for you?”
“Seven-thirty is perfect,” he murmured, reaching out and running a finger down her cheek.
Makayla gasped as, once again, little currents of energy shot to her core. It was uncanny and more than a little unnerving.
“You feel it too,” he said softly. “I needed to touch you again to ensure I hadn’t imagined it. Until tonight, sweet Makayla.”
* * * *
Makayla’s stomach was tied in knots. She wanted everything to be perfect. She’d only suggested that evening for dinner because Josephine was having a good day, which meant that at least she’d be talkative and enjoy the company. It didn’t mean that her mother wouldn’t have a meltdown halfway through dinner, but Makayla had decided to risk it. It was another reason for her nervousness and she’d asked herself numerous times whether it had been a terrible idea to invite Donovan into their home.
She’d raced out just after Donovan had left, to buy supplies. She’d forgotten to ask him if there was anything he didn’t or couldn’t eat. Sending a text to him at the number on his business card would have been easy enough, but she didn’t want to bother him. She eventually decided on steak, asparagus and new potatoes served with a Béarnaise sauce. Her instincts told her that he would be very much a meat eater. For dessert, she’d made a strawberry mousse. Makayla pulled out their best dinnerware, which rarely saw the light of day and had originally belonged to her grandmother, and spread a white damask tablecloth on the dining room table to hide its scratched surface. It had never bothered her before, but then they rarely entertained, their main visitor being Mrs. Young from next door.
Her mother was like a tin of worms, demanding to know how she’d met Donovan and pushing her for information about him. Makayla could only repeat what she’d learned on the Internet and explain how he’d rescued her from certain mortification by paying for her fuel. Josephine commented that he must be a true gentleman to have saved a damsel in distress. Makayla thought that that was taking things a little too far, but she enjoyed her mother’s enthusiasm.
Her biggest decision, other than what to cook, was what to wear. Her wardrobe didn’t include many sophisticated choices. She loved fashion and it was what she’d planned on for a career—designing and textiles. She just hadn’t had the time to dedicate to her own wardrobe.
Makayla eventually decided on a pair of dark jeans and a soft, woolen, indigo-colored jumper that Mrs. Young had knitted her for her birthday. The color brought out the violet in her eyes and she always felt pretty wearing it. She fixed her heavy length of hair into a messy topknot and kept her makeup to a dusting of powder, mascara, lip gloss and a spritz of perfume. The trick was to look like she’d made an effort but not to go too overboard. It was just dinner at home, after all.
Makayla surveyed herself in the mirror and was happy with the result. She felt pretty and feminine, which boosted her self-confidence. The only problem was her glasses. They were not the most attractive pair she’d ever owned. In fact, they were a spare pair. Her other glasses had a crack through one lens. She decided quickly to do without them. They were only for reading and the fine sewing work she had to do, but she was just so used to hiding behind them that she felt a little exposed without them.
As she was leaving her room, the doorbell rang. She opened the door to find Donovan leaning against the jamb, holding a large bunch of colorful flowers and some wine. Her heart skipped a beat at the sight of him. His brown hair, still damp from a shower, curled to just below his ears. His white open-necked shirt, rolled up at the sleeves, revealed tanned, muscular forearms, and his faded jeans hung off his hips deliciously. His lightly stubbled jaw gave him a rakish edge, immediately bringing sand and sunsets to mind. He was everything male wrapped up into one very appealing package.
He smirked and cocked an eyebrow. “Are you going to invite me in?”
Makayla flushed. What was she thinking, standing and staring at him like a star-struck fool? “Of course, I’m sorry.” She moved aside and motioned him through the door.
He stopped on the threshold. “You look beautiful,” he murmured appreciatively. “That color really brings out your eyes.” He handed her the bunch of flowers and a box of chocolates that she hadn’t noticed him holding. “The flowers are for you and the chocolates are for your mother.” He winked. “I have to sweeten her up.”
Makayla virtually expired on the spot. Could he have been any more charming?
Her mother appeared at her side. “You must be Donovan. It’s so nice to meet you.” She held out her hand in greeting.
Donovan took her hand in his. “The pleasure is all mine, Mrs. Carrington.”
Josephine tittered. It was amusing to see her so taken aback. It wasn’t just Makayla who found herself overwhelmed in Donovan’s presence. It was good to see that even her mother wasn’t immune to his good looks and charm.
“Please, call me Josephine,” she finally told him.
He held up two bottles of wine. “I brought white and red. I wasn’t sure what was on the menu.”
“I hope you like steak,” Makayla said as she took the bottles of wine from him and led them into the lounge.
He gave her a winning smile. “Steak is one of my favorites.”
Chapter Five
When Makayla had opened the door, Donovan had done a double take. Her eyes sparkled and her lips, glossed in pink, were lush and full. He wanted to kiss her. And that hair, so copious and tied into a mess on top of her head, made him think of sex and beds—thoughts he’d had to curb quickly for fear of embarrassing himself.
He’d enjoyed dinner immensely. It was clear that Makayla was a fabulous cook. The steak was grilled to perfection and served with the best Béarnaise sauce he’d ever tasted, followed by a delicious strawberry mousse that had melted in his mouth.
Her mother had been welcoming too, but quiet, and after dessert she’d retired to her bedroom, mentioning something about her medication making her drowsy.
Now he was sitting in the lounge next to Makayla, drinking coffee. “Thank you for a lovely meal. You’re a wonderful cook.”
She blushed. “It was nothing. Quite simple, really.”
“You must learn how to take a compliment, Makayla.”
She fidgeted and gazed into her lap. “Well, it was nic
e to have some company and to thank you for helping me.”
Donovan studied her over the rim of his coffee mug. She really was intriguing. She seemed so innocent yet projected a maturity beyond her years. He’d discovered over dinner that she was only twenty-two. She was younger than the women he usually dated. Well, women he went out with on occasion. He didn’t date as a rule, and was ashamed to admit that he most often sought his partners for activities that didn’t include a lot of deep and meaningful conversation. He’d had two long-term relationships, neither of which had ended amicably. But here was this beautiful, sweet angel who’d stumbled into his path and turned him inside out in a matter of moments. She was too good for him, too pure, even a little naïve. It was the way she looked at him—full of wide-eyed vulnerability. He suspected that she wasn’t very experienced and he sensed that he’d need to move slowly with her. She didn’t look like the type of girl to leap straight into bed with a guy she’d just met, and the thought pleased him.
Finally, she looked up at him and smiled. “I have to confess, I’ve Googled you,” she announced. “I’m sorry if that seems like an invasion of your privacy, but I wanted to know more about you.”
“I’m glad you did,” he conceded. “After all, you invited me into your home. I like that you had the forethought to do some investigation of me. At the very least, you know I am who I say I am.”
She looked suddenly uncomfortable. “Do you have a girlfriend? I know it’s none of my business. I’m just asking because I’ve seen a lot of photos of you with beautiful women.”
Of course, she’d seen the copious images of him with various women. Christ knew what she thought of him. Even to his eyes, he looked like a man whore. “No, I don’t have a girlfriend. I wouldn’t be here having dinner with you if I did.”
