by Cate Remy
“I could’ve been a little nicer when I said it.”
“You’re the only person who’s not afraid to talk to me like I’m a regular guy.” His eyes twinkled when he looked at her. “I like that.”
Was the elevator always this small, or was she standing close to him? His athletic form seemed to take up all the room. “You want to be like everyone else?”
“Sometimes it’s nice to go where you please without a crowd. When I have a chance in Severn, I like to slip out from time to time to a little cafe or pub when it’s not busy.”
“You might want to check out some of the coffeehouses here after your security recovers from their morning run.”
“You still haven’t finished showing me Atlanta. Do you think you’ll have time today?”
“What places did you have in mind?”
“One of those quiet coffeehouses you mentioned, but first, I’m hungry. I want to go to my father’s favorite restaurant where they sell peach crepes.”
“Emil’s. I know exactly where it is.”
“I figured you would.”
The elevator chimed before opening to the twenty-eighth floor. Shae folded her hands. “This is my stop.”
“Meet me outside the hotel at noon? Same as we did before last week?”
She agreed. “Mr. Hightower is supposed to return to work this afternoon. We can get him up to speed on what you started for the hotel project.”
“What we started, Shae. He may manage the operations here, but I still want you to be in charge of the project.”
“If you want.” She stepped out. Donovan waved as the doors closed.
What did he have in mind today?
Chapter Eight
Donovan was happy to hear Shae completed her term paper and turned it in that morning. He was even happier when she agreed to visit Emil’s with him for lunch. She didn’t think he was a complete heel. He showered, dressed in pants, button down shirt, and jacket. He brought his laptop along to do business after the meal.
They got to Emil’s shortly after noon. Donovan’s security detail arranged for him and Shae to dine in the private dining area. He and Shae had the modest room to themselves while Giles and Murphy hung around outside the door.
“Hope you don’t mind eating alone with me.” He pulled out her chair for her to sit.
“Not at all. I’m not a fan of the noisy lunch crowd,” she replied.
He liked hearing those words. “That’s nice to know. Most of my friends and associates enjoy a photo opportunity whenever they can get it.”
“You don’t have to worry about it with me.” She picked up the menu. “Cameras and I do not get along.”
“I don’t believe it. You’re quite photogenic.”
She looked up over the menu at him through her long black eyelashes. The menu covered half her face, though he could tell she was using it to hide a smile. “Hardly anyone knows this, but I used to be a child model until I was three years old. My mother drove me to auditions for baby food commercials and local toy store ads.”
“That’s impressive.”
“Not really. This was when camera filters had to be changed manually and studio lights were hot.”
“You couldn’t sit still for a long time?”
“Nope, and I was sensitive to little noises like camera shutters moving and the flash going off. I still am a little.”
He couldn’t resist teasing her. “I get to have lunch with a famous model.”
“Stop.” She tried to conceal her laugh. Her ponytail flicked over her shoulder when she shook her head. “You are not having lunch with a famous person. The gigs ended when I got all my primary teeth.”
Donovan enjoyed her reaction to his teasing. After the waiter came and took their drink and appetizer orders, he took his phone out of his pocket and pulled up the internet browser. “If I search under your name, will I find old commercial clips of little baby Shae with strained peas all over her face?”
She made a cute yuck face, scrunching her small nose. “I hate peas specifically for that reason. You won’t find those clips because they were lost on the cutting room floor.”
“Maybe not.” He pretended to type into the phone. “You never know what manages to find itself on the internet these days.”
“Spare me. At least until after I eat.”
She put the menu down, exposing the plum blush that crept on her cheeks. Her light brown skin was fresh and dewy under the lights. The waiter returned.
“You said your father liked to eat here whenever he visited Atlanta?” she asked after the sweet tea and appetizers were placed on the table and the server went away with their entree orders.
“My mother told me he came here to eat every day until it was time for him to fly home.” His throat muscles tightened after he said the word fly. He coughed and reached for his glass of water. In his haste, the glass chinked against the plate of appetizers. He splashed a good bit of it all over his hand and on the white tablecloth.
“Are you okay?” Shae half-rose in her seat, hand stretched as though she was about to reach over and clap him on the back.
“Yes, no worries.” Embarrassed, he drank the rest of the water until the tickle in his throat vanished. He wiped his hand dry with a napkin. “I hate when that happens.”
“The appetizers are a little salty.”
“It’s not the food. I don’t like to talk about flying.” He cleared his throat. “My parents were in a plane crash when I was a child. It put my mother in a wheelchair.”
Shae’s eyes widened before her expression turned sad. “I’m so sorry. Were you on the plane, too?”
He motioned his head in the negative. “They were coming home from a trip to France. I waited for them at the airport with my aunt. We saw the plane go down on the tarmac.”
She covered her mouth. “How scary. For anyone, but especially for a child.”
He looked away, wondering how the conversation reached this topic and wishing it never did. “I haven’t been too fond of flying since.”
“Who could blame you?” Shae looked hesitant. “Is that why you…”
“Had too much to drink when I first got here? Yes. Not my best moment.” He wanted to change the topic. Anything was better than discussing his weakness. “I’ve been working on the schedule app hotel employees can use to keep track of when they clock in and out of work.” He launched into telling her about the new coding program he used. By the time he finished, the server brought their lunch. He ate crepes in relative silence.
When the meal was over and the plates cleared, he took out his laptop to show her progress on the app. He demonstrated how to use it. “I’m almost done with the beta. I’ll set it up for the employees to test in the next day or two. Once I know all the kinks are ironed out, I’ll get the real version up and running in a couple weeks.”
Shae nodded her head. She looked a little bored. Donovan hated rambling on. He just wanted to move past what he shared with her about his family trauma. What if she thought him weak or inept for not dealing with it sooner?
A half hour went by. He knew he and Shae needed to return to the hotel to meet with Mr. Hightower. “We should be going so we’re not late.” He reached for the bill when the server brought it.
“How much was mine?” asked Shae.
He wasn’t going to let her pay for her own meal. “I invited you out to eat. Besides, it’s the least I can do for almost ruining your G.P.A.” He put a couple bills in the receipt holder, including the tip.
She stood up with him. “I enjoyed eating here. I’ve had their appetizers, but I never ordered anything from the dinner menu.”
He put his laptop in its bag. “I want to see the cafe on Peachtree Street later. If the entertainment’s good, we can bring it to the gala in October.”
“A lot of younger professionals go there, so that’s a good idea.”
He was glad she liked his idea. Giles and Murphy stood at the door, ready to walk with them to the cars. D
onovan waited for Shae to walk out the back with him. “When does open mic start?”
“Tonight at seven.”
“You don’t have any more term papers to write between now and then, do you?”
She quirked one corner of her mouth. “Not unless the professor springs a surprise essay on the class. Why?”
“I’d like for you to come with me.” He let her go outside the restaurant first. “We’ll be scouting the talent, but you don’t have to wear your uniform.”
“I get the hint.” Humor made her skin glow. “I won’t show up to open mic night looking like a concierge.”
“Of course, there’s nothing wrong with you looking like a concierge.” What was he doing? That was a ridiculous thing to say.
Shae took it in stride as she got into his Benz. “Do you want me to meet you at the hotel?”
“I can pick you up from your place so you don’t feel like you’re walking back into work.”
She told him her address. While he put it in his GPS, she added, “Don’t worry. I’ll find something appropriate for the occasion.”
Donovan started the car. He turned on some music and kept quiet during the drive. The last thing he wanted to do was embarrass himself and be awkward in front of Shae again.
Shae saw Donovan with new eyes after he revealed the trauma he experienced as a child. She couldn’t imagine the fear and devastation at seeing a plane go down and knowing one’s parents were on board. No wonder he had been in the mood to throw a party once he arrived in Atlanta. The flight was long and he wanted to release stress. For his sake, though, she hoped he’d find a better coping mechanism than partying.
She clocked out after work and rushed home so she could change clothes to go to the cafe with Donovan. Chelsea had already left for the cafe. Good, because she didn’t want to explain to her roommate why she suddenly was going to open mic night and who was going with her. Donovan’s hopes for a quiet, uneventful evening would go kaput.
She took a quick shower and padded over to her closet in towel and bare feet. What was she supposed to wear to this thing? She dressed in jeans and a nice shirt when she went months ago, but that was with her roommate and friends, not a business date with a prince.
Business date. No, the term didn’t sound right at all. She was going there as part of her planning for the gala, yet it wasn’t exactly all work.
She flipped through items in her closet. Her hand stopped on a fitted black dress. Too formal. She kept moving through racks of t-shirts and stumbled on a pair of sweat pants on the floor. Her casual outfits might be too casual. She might have clocked out of work at the hotel, but she didn’t want to look like she just rolled off her couch.
Shae settled on a cotton sundress she bought last year. The black and white gingham print was a little old-fashioned, but it looked a lot better than sweat pants and a Falcons t-shirt. She dressed and pinned her ponytail into a loose bun. She opted for a pair of sandals since it was a warm July night.
Five minutes later, a knock came from the door. She opened it to Donovan standing in black pants and an olive green shirt that brought out his eyes. “Hi.”
“You look charming.” He took in her outfit with a smile. She felt a little self-conscious under his gaze.
“Thanks, but isn’t that a term people normally reserve for you?”
“People have a lot of terms for me. Charming is-oh, I get it.”
“I know, it wasn’t funny. That’s why I sit on the other side of the mic on open mic night.” Shae locked her apartment door before stepping outside with him. A warm, balmy breeze touched her arms. This was a nice night to go out.
Donovan walked downstairs with her. She saw a pair of black Mercedes-Benz waiting. “I have my security, but they’ll be at another table when we get to the cafe. Hope it doesn’t bother you.”
“I enjoy watching Giles and Murphy play incognito.” Shae pondered whether she could do the same at the cafe with her roommate there.
Donovan drove from her apartment complex to downtown Atlanta. He navigated crowded Peachtree Street like an old pro. Shae watched all manner of people from tourists to regular night clubbers waiting to cross the street. “Most visitors get tired of the traffic. You seem to not mind it.”
“The urban streets of Severn are much smaller and have similar pedestrian traffic.” He drove into a lot behind the cafe.
By this time, Shae knew the drill. She got out and let Donovan’s security lead the way inside. A couple bouncers were there to point the way to a table nestled way in the back of the darkened cafe. A navy curtain partially concealed it from view of other tables ten feet away and the stage up front. They took their seats while a guitarist played an acoustic version of a Fleetwood Mac song for a small audience of about fifteen people.
Donovan applauded when the guitarist finished. “Do you think he’d like to play music at our gala?”
“Maybe, if you’re going for a classic rock theme.”
The emcee came on stage to announce the next person, an amateur comedian from Columbus, Georgia. During the interim, Shae excused herself.
On the way to the ladies room, she scanned the audience. They looked like artsy undergrads with striped t-shirts and dark wash jeans. There were a couple older people enjoying red wine. She went into the ladies room.
Shae was on her way out a minute later. She heard the door open behind her while she reached for a paper towel to dry her hands at the sink.
“Shae, is that you?”
Her legs locked in place at the sound of Chelsea’s voice.
Chapter Nine
Shae wadded up the paper towel. The water was still running in the sink. She moved to turn it off before facing Chelsea. “Hey, how are you?”
Her roommate stood between her and the only way out of the ladies room. Chelsea dwarfed her by at least five inches in her skyscraper peep toe booties. “Why didn’t you tell me you were coming?”
“You know, last minute decision and all.”
“Your outfit doesn’t look last minute. It’s cute, girl.”
“Thanks.” Shae hoped another woman would walk in so she could break up the awkward conversation. “I should get going.”
“Who’d you come with tonight?”
“Someone from work.”
“You both can sit with me and my date if you want. We got a table close to the stage.”
“No, we’re fine where we are.”
“Ooh, I see how it is. You want your privacy.” Chelsea gave her a knowing smile.
“It’s not quite like that, Chels.”
“Hmm, let’s see. You’re out at night, which is something you never ever do. You’re dressed like you’re out on a date.”
“I’m not on a date.” Shae tried to get around her roommate in the cramped restroom space.
Chelsea gasped. “You’re with him, aren’t you? The prince?”
She stiffened. If her roommate knew Donovan was here, so would everyone else on Peachtree Street soon after. Chelsea would announce it to the world. “I have to go. I’ll see you at the apartment.”
“I’m coming out there. I’m going to find out who you’re with.” Her roommate called after her.
Shae weaved around the tables to arrive at the one she shared with Donovan. He was laughing at the comedian’s jokes. “We have to leave,” she whispered. It came out more like a hiss.
His smile vanished. “Is something wrong?” he stood. His security a couple tables away also got up.
“My roommate is here, and she’s going to be onto us.”
He put a tip on the table and walked out with her into the night. When they got into his car, he asked, “Do you want to go somewhere else? It’s still early.”
“There’s a comedy club I used to go to back in undergrad. Tuesdays are amateur night. It’s really dark inside. No one will see us.”
He fastened his seatbelt. “Tell me the address.”
Ten minutes later they were pulling into Hijinks Comedy Club. Shae was
relieved. “That was close.”
Donovan turned the car off. The lights came on. “I want to see what makes you laugh.”
“You’re just going to go in, without telling management first?”
“It doesn’t look like a lot of people are here tonight. It should be fine to slip in.”
They went to the doors, where the bouncer hardly gave them a second glance after Donovan paid the cover charge. “Help yourselves to a table.”
Shae pointed to a little table nestled in a corner. “That’s where I usually sat when I used to come here.”
They sat down right as a waiter came along. “Good evening, folks. What can I get for you to start?”
Donovan glanced at the menu. “We’ll have two cokes and a couple glasses of water.”
Shae glanced at him. What happened to his accent? It disappeared.
“Cokes and water coming up. I’ll bring dinner menus.” The waiter ambled off into the kitchen.
Shae lowered her voice when someone took the stage. “Donovan, did you do something different with your voice?”
“I dropped my accent and replaced it with an American one. I always wanted to see if I could get away with it.”
“I see.”
The waiter came with drinks and a menu. “Sorry. I could only find one menu at the moment.”
Shae glanced over Donovan’s shoulder to scan the entrees. “The burger looks good.”
“Is that what you want?” He closed the menu and handed it to the waiter. “Two burgers please.”
“You got it.”
Donovan folded his arms on the table and leaned her way to whisper. “Hope you don’t mind me ordering for you.”
She smelled his scent up close, a mix of pepper and fresh green notes. “No problem. You wanted to try on your shiny new American accent.”
“Was I convincing?”
“I think so, but you won’t convince anyone you’re from Atlanta. Maybe the Midwest.”
“As a matter of fact, I don’t believe your voice carries a charming southern drawl.”
