Rules of Engagement

by Lily White

  Signing, Donovan said, I’ll be in my office, Ms. Jennings. Be sure to bring a pad of paper and a pen. It’s my intention to keep you in there for a while in order to fill your head with as much information as I can.

  Blushing, I also wasn’t blind to Donovan’s sneaky use of seemingly appropriate statements to convey an entirely inappropriate alternate meaning. Donovan was nothing, if not a master of innuendo.

  “I’ll be in there in a few minutes. I need to stow my purse away and gather my supplies.”

  Nodding his head, he stepped inside his office, closing but not latching the door all the way. It wasn’t until just then that I realized Donovan never shut his door fully anymore, that, in a way, he had stopped closing himself off to the world by hiding behind the walls of his office and the computer screen he spent hours staring it while developing unique coding for his clients. Out of curiosity one day, I’d printed out some of the sample coding just to see if I could interpret how any of it worked. It looked like a bunch of letters and numbers with no rhyme or reason, a bunch of symbols scattered in between which I’m sure meant more to a computer than it did to me.

  Stowing my purse away in a drawer, I grabbed my pad of paper from the desk and a blue pen before spinning on my heel to march into Donovan’s office. I must have moved a bit too fast because a stack of papers tipped over when my hip brushed against it. Papers scattered all over the floor, a groan slipping over my lips to see the mess. Dropping my pen and paper back on the desk, I knelt down to gather the papers together, but was interrupted by the door opening in the lobby. Peeking around the corner, I saw Trevor pushing a cart through full of boxes of parts Jackson would need for the large server installs he was performing this week.

  “Hey, Trevor,” I called from the floor, only my head visible from around the half wall. His brows pulled together when he finally looked down to see me.

  “Everything okay, Mia? Why are you on the floor?”

  Glancing back at the scattered papers, I sighed and stood up. Since Jackson wouldn’t be in the office today, they wouldn’t get in the way before I had a chance to gather them back together. “I knocked over a bunch of paperwork, but it’s no big deal, I can pick it up later.”

  Signing for the boxes, I opened the back door and allowed Trevor to wheel the boxes through on his handcart. He cast a cursory glance at the mess I’d made and asked, “Are you sure you don’t need help with that?”

  Waving it off, I answered, “It’s just a bunch of scattered paperwork. Nothing I haven’t dealt with before.”

  Nodding his head, he finished unloading the boxes, but then turned in such a way that we were practically nose to nose in the cramped space. His eyes locked to mine, and his throat worked to swallow before he spoke on a low voice intended only for me. “I’ve been meaning to ask you something, Mia.” Shifting his weight, he appeared nervous, the tip of his tongue peeking out to lick along the crease of his lips. “I was wondering-“

  Reaching up to rub the back of his neck with his hand, he blew out a breath filled with indecision. “Would you like to go out with me sometime for dinner or something?” Spitting out the words so fast that it was almost impossible to follow them, he closed the distance between us. Out of habit, I backed up, my shoulders pressing against the bookshelf stacked with file folders. The shelf jostled behind me and Trevor reached out to grab my arm and pull me away. I reached out as well, trying to catch my balance.

  Donovan’s office door pulled open so fast that a gust of wind blew across the office fluttering the paperwork spilled across the floor. When Trevor turned to look at Donovan, I stepped away, placing enough distance between us that I didn’t have to worry about him accidentally bumping into me.

  It was safe to assume Donovan was watching from the cameras hidden through the office, and I appreciated that he stepped out in time to prevent Trevor from grabbing me, even if I’d been the first to touch Trevor. I knew Trevor meant nothing by it, but part of the effort I made to keep distance between my body and other people was to avoid constantly having to explain why I didn’t like being touched.

  “Donovan,” Trevor grumbled in greeting.

  Donovan merely nodded in return.

  I couldn’t put my finger on it, but whatever issue existed between the two men was becoming worse, the mutual animosity an electric current running through the air. Making a mental note to ask Jackson about it the next time I saw him, I walked to stand between them with pen and paper in hand. “I need to get back to work Trevor, so I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  Donovan closed the door behind us once we stepped into his private space, but hovered near the door in order to listen as Trevor let himself out of the office.

  Taking my usual seat, I was surprised when the back of it was yanked so hard that the chair dragged away from its position. Before I could utter a word in protest, Donovan practically picked it up to spin it around. Once I was facing him, he set the chair back on the floor and grinned.

  With my hand clutching my chest, I glared at him. “You scared the hell out of me. You could have just asked me to turn around.”

  You wouldn’t have heard me.

  Rolling my eyes, I had to give him that one. Without looking at a Donovan or one of his handy dandy tablets, there was no way to know if he needed you for something. “Okay, so what’s this female perspective you need?”

  Holding up a finger, he exited the office. Before he could close the door again, I stood up to follow him, but he motioned with his hand for me to sit back down.

  Signing quickly, he explained, Give me a second. You’ll need the full effect.

  And with that, I was locked into Donovan’s office, my nerves skittering just beneath my skin because there was no telling what the man was about to do.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  Rule No. 4: Your secrets drive me crazy. Stop making it so obvious that you have them. You are the most frustrating of puzzles.

  I must have tapped out a full symphony with my pen against the pad of paper before Donovan finally returned, and although I was getting anxious sitting there all alone waiting for whatever scheme he had planned, his entrance more than made up for the wait.

  Eyes rounded until they were the size of small saucers, a burst of laughter shot over my lips to see Donovan enter the room dressed in a formal tuxedo, the classic style doing nothing to hide his physique. Closely following the surprised laughter was heat like I’d never felt before, desire blooming and expanding inside me as he walked my direction to hand me a dozen red roses. Not quite sure what to make of the clothing and flowers, I stared in absolute confusion as Donovan winked at me before spinning in place and marching to the other side of his office, a screen lowering down from the ceiling, the electronic whir of the motor the only sound filling the room. Taking his place next to the screen, Donovan watched me until it was fully in place, the screen lighting up as soon as it stopped lowering.

  It was a struggle to drag my eyes from the enigma Donovan had become in my life to read the title blazing across that screen, to watch the quick videos below it of happy couples enjoying candlelit dinners, dancing beneath the stars and enjoying romantic escapades in foreign destinations that were startling in their natural beauty. In one video in particular, the Northern Lights rolled above the heads of a couple intertwined on a bed dressed in thick blankets that would chase off the evening chill.

  Destination Dating rolled across the top of the screen, the videos ending before a presentation began playing, an explanation booming from speakers hidden somewhere is Donovan’s office.

  Why meet her for the first time in an ordinary restaurant or movie theater when you can whisk her away to a dream destination that will make the rest of your lives as magical as the first night you met?

  Apparently Donovan’s latest project was an online dating site where couples could get to know each other in plain view of other couples doing the same. Unlike other sites that were used to find each other and then left the couples to meet and fall in l
ove in the privacy of their own lives, this site monitored the progress of the couple, a real time series of stories that other couples hoping to find their soulmate could witness and comment on. It was another idea much like the one Donovan had presented to his other clients — another idea like Dark Realities where an audience watched strangers live out fantasies or play games, where entertainment was found not in the scripted lines of actors in studios, but in the actual lives of people around the world. I couldn’t comprehend why someone would want to fall in love in plain view of the world, but when I saw what was given to the couple as a prize for their participation, I understood how some people would be willing to expose everything just for the prizes alone.

  Paid vacations to foreign places, dream weddings and even a new house for the couple when they decided where to settle down and start their lives together, all of it provided by the site for the small fee of allowing the world to watch the story of how two people found each other and fell in love. Deciding it wasn’t too far off from watching a romantic movie or reading a romance novel, this type of site would give people hope, it would provide a ray of light in the bleak lives of those who couldn’t believe that their dreams would become reality.

  And even for those who’d already married and had children, it would be just another story they could follow along, if for nothing else but to re-experience the fantasy of falling in love.

  It was a good idea once I’d given it some thought, much better than what I’d signed up for with Dark Realities.

  The presentation ended and I dragged my gaze back to Donovan to find him staring at me intently. What do you think?

  I thought I was going to melt right there in my seat just by looking at how gorgeous he was in a tux. His black hair had grown out just a touch since I started working for him, softening the angles of his face just enough that you had to curl your fingers over your palm to keep from reaching out to touch him. But it wasn’t just his hair that had changed, the cold distance in his eyes was noticeably absent, the warmth that replaced it adding so much depth to those gorgeous blue orbs that a woman could see a future within them.

  Shaking away that thought, a thought that broke every damn rule that kept us just out of reach from one another, I returned my attention to the project. “I think it’s a great idea, but how would you find people who’d want to take something so private and personal and expose it to the world - to strangers they’ll never meet?”

  Our eyes locked for several seconds, thoughts swirling behind his eyes that tugged at his lips until his expression was unreadable. You’d be surprised what people are willing to do in front of others. Especially when given the right incentive.

  There didn’t need to be a tone of voice for me to pick up some other message in what he said, to understand that he knew more about the people around him than he would ever let on.

  But before I could explore that chain of thought, Donovan was signing again, his question directed toward the project instead of commenting on people in general. People like me. People that could be so desperate for money, or love or even a short escape from their boring, mundane lives. Do you think the clients will like the presentation? When it comes to building these sites and securing them, I can’t be beat. His forehead wrinkled with dismay. But when it comes to presenting the information… He shook his head, his eyes darting back to the screen.

  Drawing his attention back to me, I answered, “I think they’ll love it, especially the women in the room. Men tend to be less sentimental, but romance is a thriving business. But how is this any different from the television shows where people meet and fall in love?”

  Absently, he signed, There’s only so much that can be shown on television. Time constraints and all that, so you never get the full story. With this, and because there are no time limits for a couple to reach the finishing line, those who follow along see everything, read everything, know everything there is to know. They can follow multiple stories at the same time. Immerse themselves in the thrill of two people deciding whether they were born for each other or not.

  Born for each other. The way he’d phrased that last part made me realize that Donovan was more of a romantic than he let on. “Are your clients male or female?”

  His eyes snapped to mine. Female, why?

  Soft laughter shook my shoulders. “Then you should wear the tuxedo during your presentation. Even if the presentation is not the best they’ve ever seen, they won’t notice because they’ll be too busy watching you.”

  His eyes flashed with amusement, his mouth stretching into a wolfish grin. You like?

  That was a dangerous question, especially now with ideas of romance swirling in my head, especially in this office where there was nobody who could act as a barrier between. In the past month, we’d done well not to spend too much time alone together, only because it was becoming more difficult every day to ignore the desire building between us.

  “Yes, I like,” I admitted honestly, my voice dropping to a whisper as my cheeks heated until they were blushing.

  How much? he asked, slowly stepping forward like a tiger on the prowl, his focus so acute that a tremor ran through me to be caught in that wicked gaze. Donovan didn’t need to speak to vocalize his thoughts. When he was willing to share how he felt, he could convey every emotion, thought and desire inside him with just a simple look, in the arch of his brow, in the way his body moved in response to whatever stimulus that pleased him.

  At that moment, I was the stimulus pleasing him, and his attention and obvious intent broke every damn rule standing between us.

  It was in my head to mention the rules, the reminder sitting on the tip of my tongue, but refusing to let go because, in truth, I wanted to know what he would do when he was finally within arm’s reach. I tried to spit the words out, but they latched on refusing to let go. And by the time he was standing right in front of me, I’d lost the ability to think, much less speak.

  How much? he signed again, not letting a question go that would result in an answer that was forbidden according to his rules.

  “A little too much,” I breathed out, clutching my hands in my lap to keep from fanning at my skin just to alleviate the heat beneath it.

  Enough to spend millions on a website just because I told you it was the best idea ever?

  Nodding, I had to swallow down that particular answer. With the way he was looking at me now, any woman would gladly throw everything she had at him just to keep him close.

  Reaching out to take my hands, he waited for me to unravel my clenched fingers. They were shaking as I reached up to take his, my mind spinning with how we were asking for trouble to be this close. Helping me from my seat, Donovan pulled me to him, his arm wrapping around my back as the fingers of his free hand knotted with mine.

  “This is against the rules,” I whispered, struggling not to tremble against him.

  His only response was to press his forehead to mine, to part his lips just slightly as his eyes closed. Mine remained open, watching, waiting, knowing that if we made the same mistake again, there wouldn’t be another chance to fix it. In that moment, I understood that what happened between us would have drastic consequences - unless, of course, I let go and walked away before the mistake could be made.

  I wasn’t strong enough to do that, wasn’t smart enough to ignore the way he struggled to be this close to me without all the guilt and self-hatred he was carrying coming to the surface. Three years after her death, and Donovan still carried the pain of losing a woman who’d meant everything to him. She was the only personal effect he had in his office, and she was the first thought in his head in the moments when his heart fought to move on. I didn’t know the woman - and I only knew her name from the articles I’d read - but I doubted she would want this for him if she cared for him even a tenth of how much he cared for her.

  Had it only been a handful of months since her death, I wouldn’t have entertained the idea of a relationship with Donovan. But it had been three years. That wa
s a long time to bury yourself in pain. It was a long time to keep yourself cut off from the world. And the only reason I didn’t think him crazy for the restrictions he’d placed in his life since the day she died was because I, too, carried similar restrictions. But it had been his hand - his touch - that pulled me out from the bars of that self imposed prison to show me there was life beyond all the cruelties of the past.

  “Do you still want to know why I hate to be touched?”

  Until that moment, only Rachel knew the details of my past. And why I was now offering that secret to Donovan was beyond my understanding. But watching him struggle, feeling the tension in his body as he fought to allow himself to love again after everything that had happened in the past, perhaps my offer was simply a means of showing him that he wasn’t alone in his pain, that even a woman as timid as me could step beyond the walls of doubt to see if happiness could be found in another.

  His eyes opened and met mine, the pain rolling behind them clenching at my heart with icy fingers. With his forehead still pressed to mine, he nodded his head, refusing to let go of our locked gaze.

  It was difficult to find the words I needed to convey everything that had happened to me growing up. And although my father never struck me, he’d found other forms of abuse he explained away as punishment, as a way of teaching me how to survive this world as an adult. The only problem was those lessons started when I was at an age that adulthood was still a distant light on the horizon, so distant that I didn’t understand why I was being saddled with so many responsibilities and expectations. While my friends were still having tea parties and sleepovers, I was being lectured on how receiving a B on a math test would destroy every chance I had at being successful.

  I was eight. At that point in my life, success wasn’t a concern. But to my father, it was everything.

  “I grew up with a dad who I could never please,” I explained, noticing how the tension in Donovan’s body grew worse at the mention of another man in my life having something to do with my aversions. Knowing he had jumped to the worst-case conclusions, I was quick to pour out the details. “When I was young, he was the perfect dad. He took me places, bought me anything I wanted, read me bedtime stories and protected me from all the monsters hidden in my closet. Our family was normal until I started school.”