Champagne Kisses

by Zuri Day

  Even though it was Saturday and she probably could have come in later, Marissa still left her suite at 8:25 a.m. for the short trip to the executive offices. She figured with it being a weekend, she wouldn’t encounter that many Drake employees. She even wondered if she and Donovan would be the only ones in the office.

  Immediately her mind went to things she’d love to do when alone with him but she shifted those thoughts. If she hadn’t been sure Donovan was interested in her before last night, she definitely knew it now. Had it been any other man, a massage invitation would have been a barely veiled if not blatant precursor to a night of intimacy.

  But the invitation Donovan sent said she’d get a massage. And that’s exactly what had happened. A man of his word. Another rare quality in her limited male experience.

  So why was she mad at him? Because he hadn’t acted like the men she knew, like Joseph or Steven? And she’d wanted him to. Sure, the massage had been perfection, left her as limp as a wet noodle. But the experience, especially his kind gesture, had left her with a void that needed to be filled. Last night had left Marissa wanting Donovan more than she’d ever wanted any man.

  Before now, sex had been something she could take or leave, something she rarely thought of. But she’d tossed and turned all night, had squeezed her legs together in an attempt to quell the throbbing ache, the relentless longing that burned between her thighs, a longing that she had a feeling only one man could fulfill. Sleep had stayed at bay until the wee hours of the morning and the body that had been so relaxed and nurtured the night before was now wound tight as a drum. So yes, Marissa was angry at Donovan for making her want him and angry at herself for her lack of mental restraint.

  She reached the executive offices and used the temporary card she’d been given to unlock the door. The delicious aroma of coffee hit her as soon as she entered, a sign that even as early as she was, someone was earlier. She’d hoped to arrive before Donovan, give herself a moment to don a professional veneer to face him. With any luck, it would be one of the accountants she encountered or another of the assistants in to catch up.

  Unlike during the week, the reception area was dim, the offices at the front darkened and locked. She turned down the hallway on her right, bypassing the file room and entering the finance area. She realized at once that luck was not on her side. There, in all of his masculine glory, was Donovan, somehow looking professional even though he was dressed in jeans, a polo shirt and…what? Cowboy boots? Marissa was immediately reminded of Donovan’s statement the other night, that all of the Drakes knew how to ride. Looking at him now, six feet of dark butterscotch, broad shoulders and thick thighs, she just bet he did. His hip leaned against her desk as he casually thumbed through the mail stacked in the inbox. It was almost as though he’d been waiting for her.

  There you go again, Marissa. Stop acting like a love-struck fool. Donovan is interested in your business, not bedroom skills. Get yourself together!

  He looked up and that subtle smile that she’d come to recognize and look forward to scampered across his face before being replaced with a less discernible expression. “Good morning.” He stood straight as she walked toward him, catching her gaze before she quickly turned her face away and walked around him, placing her purse in the desk drawer. “It is a good morning, isn’t it?”

  “It is a beautiful morning,” Marissa assured him, trying very hard to match his good mood. “An angel gifted me with a spa treatment last night. It was heavenly.” Having put down her purse and somewhat shaped her expression into one of gratitude instead of chagrin, she turned to face him. “Thank you.”

  “So you enjoyed it?” He leaned against the desk and immediately Marissa took in his familiar scent. “Your stiff demeanor had me worried for a minute, thought I might have to fire some workers for not properly doing their job.”

  “No, the massage was wonderful. It’s just that afterward, well…”

  “Well, what?”

  Marissa shrugged, realizing that she may be revealing too much and wondering why she cared so much. “I didn’t sleep well.”

  Donovan frowned. “Lei did the massage?” Marissa nodded. “Most clients say that after she’s done with them they sleep like a baby.”

  “I guess I had a lot on my mind.”

  “Care to share?”

  “No,” was her quick reply. “I’m ready to get down to business so tomorrow I can spend my day off in San Diego, go to church and then go by my apartment to check on things. We are still at a point where I can take tomorrow off, correct?” Donovan nodded. “Good. If we end the day early enough, I’ll drive down there tonight.”

  “Okay. After you get settled then come into my office.”

  As Donovan watched her grab a coffee cup and leave, he frowned. Something was wrong. But what? He thought that the massage would relax Marissa, have her feeling loose and carefree. Instead the opposite seemed to have happened and she seemed more uptight than ever.

  He walked back into his office, still consumed with what could be bothering Marissa. Was it Steven, the jerk who’d tried to assault her and left her so distrusting of men? Had he contacted her, threatened her somehow? Or maybe it was another man. Yes, she’d said that her focus was work, and yes she’d said she was taking a break from dating. But Donovan could see someone who looked like Marissa spending only so many nights alone. He walked over to the window, seeking the peace that usually surrounded him when he gazed upon the hundreds of acres that held the Drake name. His shoulders relaxed somewhat but the scowl remained. How did he unlock this mystery that was Marissa Hayes?

  He realized that with all of his academic knowledge and corporate experience, in matters of the heart he was severely lacking. Unlike his brother, Donovan hadn’t majored in women for the last ten years. Sure he’d had his share of one-night stands, had made the rounds in college as he honed his lover skills. Most of the time, there was little he had to do for these favors. Women seemed to flock to the silent, brooding type, as he’d been labeled. More often than not, women had been the aggressor in his many liaisons. That was fine with him. Like any Drake, he had a ferocious sexual appetite and loved women. But he’d never thought much about marriage, and when he did, he thought of his parents and grandparents, believing that if he ever did take that walk down the aisle it would be with someone he could envision spending a lifetime with.

  He thought he’d met that woman seven years ago, when he was twenty-five. He’d believed Erica Kimble was the one who’d give him the kind of love that Luella had given Papa Dee, that Mary gave David, Jr., and that his mother, Genevieve, gave his father. Instead, she’d taken one of the most precious things a man can have away. That had happened almost two years ago and truth be told, Donovan had yet to fully recover.

  “I’m ready.” Marissa stood in his office a few steps from his desk. She was holding her mug and looking at him with a curious expression. He’d been so deep in thought that he hadn’t heard her come in.

  “Uh, yeah.” Donovan placed his current thoughts to the side and reached for his laptop. “Now that we’ve inputted the business contacts, it’s time to start the fun stuff,” he said, clicking on some keys and reaching for a large accordion folder at the same time. “Inputting the wealthy potential customers who we’ll invite to a series of exclusive parties to taste our wine. All of these contacts, and their detailed personal and company information, must be transferred into the database.” He handed Marissa the weighty file.

  “My goodness,” she said after opening it up. “There’s a lot.”

  “The most influential bankers, business owners and entrepreneurs from Beijing to Hong Kong,” Donovan replied with a hint of pride. “My counterparts have been busy, and we need to have all of their information inputted as soon as possible, hopefully before making my next scheduled trip.”

  “You’ve been to China?”

  “Seven times in the past six months.”

  “I’d love to go there. It seems so exotic.”

&
nbsp; “It’s a beautiful country,” Donovan replied, rising. “Listen, I have to run back to the house for a bit. There’s something I need to take care of. Hit me up on my cell if you need me.”

  “Oh, okay.” Marissa noted Donovan’s rather abrupt departure. What did he have to go back to the house for when he’d just gotten to the office?

  Chapter 17

  Donovan jumped into his Mercedes for the short drive to the Drake estate. So far he’d handled Marissa as he would any project in which he envisioned success; he thought he’d mapped out a fairly good strategy. But due to his limited expertise in the area of females, things were not going as planned. It was time to do what he would have had this been any other type of business situation: call for backup.

  He reached the house and strode purposefully into the great room. A surprised Genevieve turned from the plant she was watering. “Donovan! Did you forget something?”

  “No, just need to holler at Dad a minute.”

  “He’s with your grandfather. You’d better hurry though, I think they’re leaving for the golf course.”

  “Thanks, Mama,” Donovan said over his shoulder, already heading to the front door. Donald was with David, Jr.? Perfect. Because when it came to Drake business two heads were better than one, and when it came to women three heads were better than two.

  * * *

  Donovan reached his dad and grandfather just as they were exiting the former spacious guest home where David and Mary now resided. Both men wore lightweight, knee-length shorts, cotton shirts and golf caps, and each had a large leather golf bag hoisted over his shoulder.

  “Did you change your mind about working today?” Donald said as soon as Donovan exited his vehicle. “We’ll wait on you if you’d like to grab your clubs and join us.”

  Donovan reached the two men. “I thought Dexter was supposed to join you two this morning?” Donald gave him a look, one that Donovan interpreted as Dexter doing his usual, getting sidetracked by a pretty face. He laughed. “All right, I got it. And I appreciate the invite, but I’m working. I just have a bit of a problem I need help with.”

  David and Donald were immediately all ears. They set their clubs down. “Do we need to go back inside?” Donald pointed toward the house. “Chef made a spinach frittata, and there’s still some left.”

  “No, this needs to be a man-to-man conversation.”

  “All right, son. Let’s walk down the path a bit.”

  The men walked and Donovan talked: about his attraction to Marissa, her hesitancy in dating men in general and her adamancy and reasons for not crossing the professional line with him in particular. “Dexter was right,” he finished, having gone on for the better part of ten minutes. “What I’m feeling for Marissa isn’t like what I’ve had for other women. She’s different. I don’t want to disrespect her by going against her wishes, but I don’t want to take the chance of her getting away. I’m afraid that when Boss and Diamond get back from their trip, and she goes back to the construction company, that’ll be it. She won’t see me again.”

  A look passed between David and Donald, and there was a twinkle in his eye as David spoke. “Sounds like the real thing, son,” he said simply.

  “What?”

  “You’re in love with her, boy. Any blind man can see that. Same as how I felt when I saw Mary all those years ago, doing the Lindy Hop at Small’s Paradise Club in Harlem.”

  Donovan smiled at the reference; he’d heard the story of this famed meeting for the first time when he was about ten years old and he never tired of hearing it. The smile was short-lived. Being in love looked good on other people, but given the one time he’d totally given his heart to somebody, he didn’t think that he wore it too well.

  “Look, Donovan.” It was Donald’s turn to add his two cents to the conversation. They’d neared a grove of full-grown palm trees that had been transported from Mexico and planted during the renovation. It formed a cove of sorts, as if it had been there for hundreds of years instead of barely one. Donald leaned against the tree, speaking casually, purposely, to try and calm his older son’s fears. “I’ll tell you like Daddy told me all those years ago when Genevieve was trying to act like she didn’t want to give me the time of day. He reminded me of how it was for us to break horses. You remember those summers with your cousins in Louisiana, how they’d coax that filly into warming up to them, nudging them bit by bit until they could saddle the mare?”

  “Geez, Daddy,” Donovan said, the visuals conjured up from Donald’s words could almost make a black man blush. David, Jr., laughed, obviously enjoying Donovan’s rare show of discomfort.

  “Son, you’ve got to saddle the filly before you can ride her, and you’ve got to ride her, make sure you fit, before you make her your own.” Sensing how hard this was for his son, Donald hid his smile behind a cough, sobered his face and continued, “How much longer is Marissa in the office?”

  “Not long enough,” Donovan said, cursing what was usually one of his favorite holidays for showing up on the date it always did. He’d have gladly worked through it, but for the Drakes, the Fourth of July was a major holiday. Millions of dollars at stake or not, Genevieve had put her foot down and demanded he join the family for the annual festivities, their brunch at the very least. So, of course, he’d be there, and not demand that Marissa work while he did not. If he heeded his elders’ advice and they gave him the right answers, next week he might produce some fireworks of his own. “I know I’m treating her with kid gloves. It’s because I don’t want to hurt her. From the look in her eyes, I can see that she’s been through enough.”

  “Then keep being the man that I’ve taught you to be. Gentle, courteous, thoughtful, kind. Find out what she needs and give it to her before she needs it. Remember to make her feel like a woman who’s worthy of your admiration and respect. You do all those things and you won’t have to worry about what will happen when Jackson gets back. Because whatever it is, you and her will be doing it together.”

  “In the meantime, get her in the saddle,” Donald said with a chuckle as the men headed back up the path toward the house. “And before you go off with your wayward thinking, I’m talking about a real one. Take her riding, son. That trick has helped to wear down every filly that’s gotten caught in the Drake crosshairs.”

  * * *

  Fifteen minutes later, a more confident and completely determined Donovan strode back into the office. “Change of plans,” he said as soon as he reached Marissa’s desk. He didn’t even glance at the massive amount of paperwork next to her computer, or the single-minded way in which she was rapidly clicking keys. “You need to go get changed. Put on a pair of jeans, a casual top and closed toe shoes.”

  “What’s going on?” Marissa asked, still typing, eyes on the screen.

  “I’m getting ready to take you riding.”

  Fingers stopped. Head snapped. Eyes widened. “As in on a horse?”

  Unless you’d prefer another way, Donovan thought. “Of course,” he said.

  “I don’t know about that,” Marissa said slowly. The most she’d handled in the way of animals was Nippy, the family cocker spaniel. She’d loved him so much that they’d had a funeral, complete with procession and lights, when he’d died. Other than that, she’d never considered herself an animal lover. Aside from one grade-school outing, she’d never even visited the San Diego Zoo. “I’m not sure I’d like being on top of such a large animal.” She blushed at the inference and quickly added, “I mean, I’m not too good around furry things.” Lord, please help me!

  Donovan laughed out loud, and the deep rumble felt like a warm breeze over Marissa’s body. “I won’t let anything happen to you,” he insisted. “You’ll be fine.”

  “What about work?”

  “This is work. I’m going to show you some more of the Drake property and then introduce you to a very special Drake wine. Besides, I’ve noticed how fast you type. You’ll whip through those stacks in no time.”

  Once again, Mariss
a thought, Donovan had done the unexpected and once again she was flying all over the place, sort of like the wispy hair of a dandelion following a child’s heartfelt blow. “Who are you, Donovan Drake?” she asked under her breath, as she left to change clothes. “And what exactly are you doing to me?”

  Chapter 18

  Ten minutes later she was in the familiar golf cart, heading toward the house on the hill and then down the other side of it, to a piece of land she’d not seen before. The first thing she noticed was its tranquil beauty: a large expanse of green dotted with flowers, set against the backdrop of the coastal mountain range, embedded with boulders ranging from the size of apples to the size of cars. A large pond sat in the seat of a natural valley, and beyond it was a fenced-in area, encased with rough-hewn cedar planks secured with large nails and wires. At the very top of the slope, Donovan stopped the golf cart. They were silent as they looked out upon the massive expanse of land and profusion of colors.

  And then she saw them. The horses, looking large and domineering even from this distance. Two were near a corner of the fence, facing each other as if in conversation. Another stood nearby, munching on grass. She turned her head and took in at least ten more, of various colors and in different poses. And then a rider in the distance, atop a horse whose coat was as black as night, its tail dancing behind him as he galloped across the field.

  “This is beautiful,” Marissa said, surprising herself by meaning the horses, as well. “All of this is Drake property?”

  Donovan nodded. “As far as your eye can see.” He started the cart and expertly navigated the uneven terrain until he came upon a barnlike structure next to the corral. They arrived at the same time as the horse and rider. The animal looked big from where she’d first seen him but here, up close and personal, he was huge! Marissa still thought he was beautiful. She also still believed that riding such a huge animal was, for her, a long shot.

  “Let’s go,” Donovan said to her, hopping out of the cart as he spoke. The rider held up his hand in greeting. “Hola, Diego,” Donovan responded. “Cómo estás, mi amigo?”