Passion Play

by Regina Hart

  “Do you miss Chicago?” Rose’s chocolate eyes remained focused on him.

  Be careful what you wish for, Donovan reminded himself too late. Now that he’d caught Rose’s interest, he was afraid of her learning too much about his past. “No, I don’t have any ties to Chicago. I lost my parents a long time ago.”

  “I’m so sorry.” A flash of pain crossed Rose’s elegant features.

  Xavier squeezed Donovan’s shoulder. “Nothing can make up for losing parents, but at least he has family in Columbus now.”

  From across the table, Donovan saw the agreement on Tyler’s face. It still amazed him how easily the Anderson family had accepted him despite his past—Xavier and Tyler as well as Foster and Kayla. He felt more like a blood relative than a close family friend and business associate.

  Iris’s chuckle eased the sudden emotion building in the room. “The first time I met the Anderson Adventures leadership team was during one of your meetings. It was more like a family gathering than an executive meeting.”

  “I’m sorry Foster and Kayla weren’t able to join us tonight.” Lily still played with her food.

  “Perhaps they can join us if we do this again.” Donovan tried to sound casual.

  Rose’s skeptical look told him he hadn’t quite managed it. “Will you gentlemen be doing the cooking?”

  “I’m game. What about you guys?” Donovan looked from Tyler to Xavier.

  “Sure.” Xavier slid a glance toward Lily. The Beharie sister didn’t seem to notice.

  “All right, but maybe we should have it at my place.” Tyler gave Donovan a pointed look. “At least we’d be confident of having clean dishes.”

  Good-natured laughter swept the table. Rose’s soft, husky chuckles captivated Donovan. He could listen to her laughter for hours. And he could look at her for days, maybe forever? Her honey-toned features glowed; her warm, chocolate eyes sparkled. She was so different from the woman he’d met during lunch with Tyler and Iris. That woman put ice in his heart. This woman could steal it. The realization caused Donovan a frisson of unease.

  * * *

  Donovan settled onto his usual chair in front of Xavier’s desk Thursday morning. Tyler was on the guest chair beside him. It was just before eight o’clock the morning after their dinner with the Beharie sisters.

  “I’m glad you and Rose are able to help each other.” Tyler cocked his head. “I’m sure that’s lifted a weight from your shoulders.”

  “It has.” That was one problem handled. But there were always others demanding attention.

  Tyler sipped his coffee. “Does she know about your past?”

  The question cast a shadow over the memory of last night’s great food and even better company. “I haven’t told her that I used to be homeless, if that’s what you mean.”

  “Why not?” Xavier asked. “You don’t have anything to be ashamed of.”

  “I know that.” Donovan hadn’t meant to sound defensive.

  “You were a kid.” Tyler shifted toward Donovan. “What happened to your family wasn’t your parents’ fault.”

  “The fact that my family wasn’t to blame hasn’t mattered to the women I’ve dated.” Donovan stared into his oversize mug of coffee. He barely noticed the scent of dry-roasted coffee beans. “Once I tell them my family had been homeless at one point, they disappear.”

  Would Rose?

  “Iris wouldn’t react that way.” Tyler’s voice was adamant. “She’s not judgmental. I don’t think Rose and Lily are, either.”

  Xavier spread his hands. “And even if we’re wrong, you and Rose are just pretending to be in a relationship. Why are you worried about her breaking up with you?”

  Donovan shook off his irritation. Just because their relationship was fake didn’t mean he couldn’t enjoy it. “Rose wouldn’t want her boyfriend—real or fake—to have a questionable past.”

  “Rose isn’t a snob, and you don’t have a questionable past.” Tyler drank more coffee.

  Donovan blew a breath. “You’re basing your assumption about Rose on what you know about Iris. Just because Iris isn’t a snob doesn’t mean her sisters aren’t.”

  “Lily’s not a snob.” Xavier’s voice was flat.

  “You don’t even know her.” Donovan held Xavier’s gaze. “I know you’re attracted to Lily. Rose is a very beautiful woman, too. But experience has taught me that outer beauty isn’t an indication of what’s inside.”

  “Experience has taught me the same.” Xavier’s tone was dry.

  “I didn’t mean to bring that up.” Donovan exhaled, rubbing his forehead.

  “Don’t worry about it.” Xavier cradled his coffee mug. “I may not have a great track record when it comes to reading other people, but I’m sure Ty and I are right.”

  “Besides, you’re not homeless now.” Tyler shrugged a shoulder. “In fact, most people would consider you to be successful.”

  Xavier gestured toward Donovan with his free hand. “You’re the vice president of sales for a multimillion-dollar company. Your past doesn’t matter.”

  “Not to the two of you but it has to others.” Donovan arched an eyebrow.

  Xavier met his gaze. “You should tell her about your past. Don’t risk having her hear about it from someone else.”

  Donovan frowned at the finance executive. “The only people who know that my father and I were once homeless are the two of you, Foster and Kayla.”

  “And two of your ex-girlfriends.” Tyler’s tone was dry.

  Donovan drank more of his coffee. “I don’t think Rose will run into my ex-girlfriends between now and September.”

  “Stranger things have happened.” Xavier leaned back on his chair.

  “This is the age of the internet.” Tyler spread his hands. “It’s not six degrees of separation anymore. Today, everything’s just a click away.”

  Xavier nodded his agreement. “At least consider telling Rose.”

  Donovan looked from one friend to the other. Did they have a point? He wasn’t looking forward to opening up about his past with Rose. Based on his experience, the discussion wouldn’t end well. Was he wrong to want to enjoy their pretend romance for as long as possible? If only he knew how long his borrowed time would last.

  Chapter 8

  “So your boyfriend grew up homeless. How does that make you feel?” Tasha sipped her diet soda Friday evening. Her eyes searched Rose’s expression as though mining for information.

  Rose had accepted Tasha’s invitation to dinner, just the two of them, when her friend had called that morning. She’d wondered what Tasha had wanted to discuss in private. Now she knew. It was fortunate that Rose’s experience as a corporate lawyer had helped her develop a poker face. She held Tasha’s inquisitive brown eyes without blinking.

  “How did you hear about that?” Rose forced a casual voice to cover her unease. Her mind scrambled to anticipate Tasha’s questions and her answers.

  Tasha reared back on her seat at their table in the Ethiopian restaurant they frequented. Her eyes feigned concern. “Didn’t you know?”

  Rose smiled. Her friend’s attempts to get under her skin amused her. Tasha was so competitive and melodramatic. The other woman had laid the jacket of her mustard skirt suit on the empty chair beside her. The first two buttons of her ivory blouse were undone, giving a hint of cleavage.

  Their conversation was interrupted when their server brought their separate dinner bills. The young man took their empty plates when he left.

  “Of course I knew about Van’s past. He told me.” The lie rolled easily from Rose’s lips. The muscles in her neck and shoulders tightened as she pinned her friend with a look. “Who told you?”

  “I used to work with his ex-girlfriend, Whitley Maxwell.” Tasha’s eyes focused on Rose as though looking
for a reaction. “Did he tell you about her?”

  “I know Van has dated other women.”

  Tasha played with her braids. “Yes, well, she said she’d dated Van for almost a year before he told her that he and his family used to live on the streets. She was so disgusted by his deceit that she broke up with him.”

  “Isn’t that a bit drastic? But her loss is my gain.” Rose scanned her restaurant bill, then fished her credit card from her purse.

  Her hand shook slightly with tension. She had to keep her responses vague, otherwise Tasha would realize she didn’t have any idea what she was talking about. She took a calming breath, allowing the savory scents of the restaurant’s food to distract her.

  Rose stuck her credit card inside the bill folder and slid them beside Tasha’s at the edge of the table.

  How could Donovan’s ex-girlfriend be so upset that he hadn’t immediately told her about his past that she’d break up with him? Or was it that she was upset to learn that she’d been dating someone who’d once been so disadvantaged? Either way, she couldn’t understand Whitley Maxwell’s reaction.

  Knowing his past, Rose was even more impressed by Donovan. That he’d been able to rise from such disadvantaged circumstances to become vice president of a multimillion-dollar company before the age of forty was a testament to his determination, efforts and intelligence. Was his background one of the reasons he was such a fierce champion for those who were homeless? Her heart warmed toward the silver-tongued salesman. He had much more substance than she’d at first suspected.

  “Why didn’t you tell us he’d been homeless?” Tasha’s question pulled Rose out of her thoughts.

  “There’s no need for me to share every detail of Van’s past with you, Claudia or Maxine.” Rose held her former classmate’s gaze. She wanted to make sure her position was clear. “The fact that he once was homeless is relevant in that it helped shape the person he is today. But it’s not a mark against him. In fact, when I think of where he came from and where he worked to put himself, I can only admire him.”

  Tasha flipped back her hair. “Well, it does make you wonder who his friends are.”

  “I’ve met his friends. We should all have such warm, caring, decent people in our lives.” Rose thought of Tyler, Xavier, Foster and Kayla. They were more like Donovan’s family than his friends. Another testament to her fake boyfriend’s character.

  Why hadn’t Donovan told her that he’d been homeless? Rose frowned at her half-empty glass of iced tea. Had he thought she’d react the same way his ex-girlfriend and Tasha had reacted? If so, she was offended—but she couldn’t fault him. He could only base his decisions on his experiences, and his experiences apparently had been pretty bad.

  Their server returned to take their payments. Rose watched the young man maneuver past the other dark wood tables arranged across the casual restaurant. Most of the other customers—groups of friends, some couples—appeared to have come to the locale straight from work just as she and Tasha had. The restaurant hummed with their murmured conversations, broken by occasional bursts of laughter.

  “If you’re so impressed with him, are you going to tell Claudia and Maxine about his past?” Tasha gave her a challenging look.

  Was the other woman deliberately missing the point? “If he wants them to know, he’ll tell them. It’s not my place to.” Rose lifted her glass of iced tea. The drink was cold against her sweaty palm.

  Tasha pulled one of her braids forward to toy with it. “Are you going to tell Van that I spoke with his ex?”

  “I don’t keep secrets from Van. I’m sure you understand my need for complete honesty in my relationships.” Rose gave Tasha a pointed look. She was certain the other woman got her reference to her failed relationship with Benjamin.

  Donovan must not want her to know that he’d once been homeless. He’d had plenty of opportunity to bring up the matter while they’d worked on the statement for the city council or when they’d had lunch almost two weeks ago. The fact that he’d kept silent must mean he wanted to keep his history a secret. Rose would respect that. She wouldn’t ask him about his past; she’d wait until he was comfortable enough to bring it up on his own.

  The question was, would he ever be that comfortable with her?

  * * *

  “When you called, you said we had something very important to discuss.” Rose closed her front door after letting Donovan into her house on Saturday afternoon.

  “Thanks for letting me come over.” Donovan walked past her to wait while she secured the door lock. Rose caught a whiff of musk and sandalwood. The scent was becoming familiar but hadn’t lost any of its appeal.

  “If it’s about the statement, I’m going to follow up with the city on Monday.” She led him into her living room, stopping in front of her black faux-leather love seat.

  Rose stole a quick peek at Donovan as he surveyed her sparse living room. A garnet, short-sleeved T-shirt showcased his broad back and stretched over his well-defined biceps. His pale gray carpenter shorts were tailored to his lean hips. Her eyes lingered on his long legs. His muscles flexed and stretched as he explored her living room. His tight glutes made her fingers twitch. His profile—chiseled sienna features and clean-shaven head—could make a ton of money for a men’s skin care company.

  Donovan turned to her. “We need to talk about our relationship.”

  “What about it?” Rose’s pulse picked up. Was he about to tell her that he’d been homeless at one point in his childhood?

  Should I act casual or let him know Tasha already told me?

  Donovan stepped forward, closing the distance between them. “I didn’t know where you lived until today. If your classmates knew I’d never been to your house, it would blow our cover.”

  Does this mean he isn’t going to confide in me about his past? Why does that bother me?

  “You’re here now.” Rose spread her arms to encompass her living room. “Would you like the nickel tour?”

  She’d already vacuumed, cleaned her kitchen sink and put her laundry away. She’d even made her bed—but perhaps they’d skip that room. She glanced around her living room. How did it appear to Donovan? In comparison to the strong colors and welcoming furniture in his home, her black, white and pewter decor probably felt cold and sanitized.

  “Not right now.” He approached Rose, gesturing toward the love seat behind her. “May I?”

  “Of course.” Rose turned to move to the sofa.

  Donovan caught her hand. “No, please join me. There’s plenty of room.” He used his hold on her hand to draw her down to the love seat beside him.

  Rose blinked. He’d moved so quickly. She hadn’t expected that. She lowered her gaze. Her hand looked almost dainty in his—small and slender, nearly swallowed by his much larger palm and fingers. Donovan’s skin was so warm and a little rough to the touch. A sharp intake of breath drew his scent to her. She had the strongest urge to turn her hand and hold his, but she pulled away.

  She settled into her corner of the love seat, increasing the distance between them. “Now that you know where I live, what more do we need to discuss?”

  “As I’ve said, we should get to know each other better. We’re not going to pull this off if we seem like strangers.” Donovan’s hazel eyes twinkled as though he knew she was this close to moving to the sofa.

  “I thought we’d been doing that with your impromptu lunch last Tuesday and dinner with my sisters on Wednesday.” Rose could still feel his skin against her palm. She fisted her hand on top of her black linen shorts.

  Donovan’s gaze dropped to her lap before returning to hers. The teasing lights in his eyes had been replaced with faint curiosity. “That was general research. Now we know about each other’s bosses and coworkers, where we went to school, our childhood and our families. Surface stuff.”

  Rose
frowned. “Actually, all I know about your family is that you’re an only child and both of your parents are deceased.” She hadn’t realized until her dinner with Tasha that she didn’t know anything about Donovan’s childhood at all. He was very adept at deflecting questions about his past.

  “That’s really all there is to know.” Donovan grew still as though assessing a potentially dangerous situation.

  Is that what it was like when you were pulling a curtain over your past? Was every personal question a possible threat? Rose couldn’t imagine living under that kind of strain.

  “What did your parents do?”

  “My father was an entrepreneur.” Donovan gave her a crooked smile, full of disarming charm. “That’s a fancy term for a one-man landscaping company. My mother was an administrative assistant with a shipping company.”

  “How did they die?” Rose’s words were almost tentative.

  “Cancer. Both of them.” Donovan’s response was brief and final. Rose read the message in his eyes: Don’t go there.

  “I’m sorry for your loss.” Rose’s response was more than words. She understood to an extent his pain. “My father died of cancer, too. My mother had a heart attack.”

  Losing both of her parents so quickly had been hard. She thanked God every day that she’d had her sisters to help her through the heartache. But Donovan had been alone. Who had he leaned on to help him through such devastating losses? He was a strong person, much stronger and more substantial than the carefree persona he projected had led her to believe.

  “I’m sorry.” A look of regret shifted across his handsome features.

  “Thank you.” Rose stood from the sofa. “I’m sorry. I should have offered you something to drink.”

  “I’m fine, thanks.”

  “All right.” Rose started to sit back down.

  Donovan captured her waist and redirected her to his lap. “I hadn’t intended for our conversation to be so somber.”