by Regina Hart
“Not everyone remembers their promises.” He was impressed with her all over again.
“It’s my job.” Her voice became brisk. “I wanted to give you that update. I’ll give them another two weeks before following up again. Hopefully, they’ll call me before then.”
“The board’s getting anxious for a response.” Donovan also was becoming impatient. He hoped that if the council decided in the shelter’s favor, Cecil would stop calling and emailing him for near-daily updates. But if the council decided against the shelter, that would open a different set of problems. He wouldn’t worry about that now, though.
“I can understand the board’s concerns. I’ll let you know as soon as I hear anything. I promise. Have a—”
“I thought you were calling to end our agreement.” Donovan sensed her surprise.
“I admit that I considered it.” Her voice was low.
His hand clenched his cell phone. “What changed your mind?”
“We’ve already invested almost six weeks in our business agreement.”
Donovan smiled at the trace of humor in her voice. “Yes, we have.”
“But this is just pretend, Van. We have to remember that. There’s no reason for us to spend so much time together.”
“We’re walking a very fine line between fact and fiction.” Donovan focused on the view outside his fifth-floor office: the vivid blue sky and vibrant green treetops that framed the concrete, metal and glass skyscrapers. “If you want to convince your former classmates that we’re a couple, we need to come across as two people who care about each other.”
“We’ll have to rely on our acting skills.” Rose exhaled. The sound caused Donovan to catch his breath.
“Are you still in love with Ben?”
“Good grief, no.” Rose’s response was instant and sharp. Donovan found great satisfaction in that. “My feelings for Ben died an unlamented death when I realized he’d been playing me for a fool.”
“Your anger is understandable, but how long are you going to hold on to it? At some point, you have to leave the past in the past.”
“I disagree. The past is always with us.” Her voice hardened. “It shapes us. I’ll never forget the lesson Ben taught me, and I never want to.”
“What lesson was that?”
“Men can’t be trusted.”
Donovan’s eyes widened. Hearing her express those feelings made him wonder if he’d ever be able to reach her.
Why am I worried about that?
He sat up on his executive chair. “You’ll have to at least pretend to trust me. We’re supposed to be in love.”
“As long as we both remember that we’re just pretending. Goodbye, Van.” She didn’t wait for his reply.
Donovan set down his cell phone. That was going to be a problem, recognizing where the pretense ended and real feelings began. Saturday had felt a little too real for him.
* * *
“You’ve been unusually quiet today.” Xavier walked into Donovan’s office late Monday afternoon.
Donovan watched the finance executive settle onto one of the gray upholstered guest chairs in front of his desk. Seven weeks had passed since Xavier had broken up with his girlfriend. He seemed to be putting the unpleasant experience behind him. His confidence and sense of humor were returning. Good. But Donovan was curious; how much of Xavier’s healing was due to time and how much of the credit belonged to Lily Beharie. The Beharie sisters were having quite an effect on the Anderson men.
“I’ve got a lot on my mind. I’m planning the sales campaign for our new games.” Donovan glanced at the clock on his computer monitor. It was just after five. The day had disappeared in a flash.
“Have you heard from Rose?” Xavier settled his right ankle on his left knee. To the casual observer, the other man seemed relaxed, but Donovan sensed his friend’s tension. What was causing it?
“The city council hasn’t met to discuss the statement yet.” Donovan tapped a couple of keys on his keyboard, then spun his chair forward to face Xavier.
“Government entities move on their own special clock.” Xavier’s tone was dry.
“It’s amazing anything gets done.” Donovan studied his friend’s expression. Xavier had an amazing poker face. “What’s on your mind?”
Xavier’s onyx gaze seemed to reach into Donovan’s mind. “After what Lauren did to me, I felt like a jackass.”
“This isn’t on you—it’s on her.” Donovan’s temper sparked when he thought of the games Xavier’s ex-girlfriend had played with the finance executive. With all of them.
“No, Van, it’s on me. I made the mistake.” Xavier’s voice was firm as he accepted responsibility. “Believe me, it’s a mistake I’ll never repeat.”
“We know.”
“You, Ty, Mom and Uncle Foster helped me realize that I can’t let that mistake define me. It’s not who I am. It’s a lesson I learned.”
Why did Donovan have the sense Xavier was trying to send him a message? If that were true, his friend would have to be much more direct.
“I’m glad you realize that.” Donovan hoped Xavier was in fact on the road to recovering from his horrible relationship experience. He and Tyler hadn’t liked Lauren. Donovan suspected Kayla and Foster hadn’t, either. They’d liked her even less after what she’d done to Xavier, Iris and their company.
“You should realize it, too.”
“What do you mean?” Donovan frowned.
“Tell Rose about your childhood and the time you spent in the homeless shelter.”
“We’ve had this discussion. I’m not going to do that, Xavier.” Donovan’s protective walls settled into position.
“The women who broke up with you because you spent a couple of months in a homeless shelter when you were a child were ignorant.”
Donovan arched a brow at his friend’s harsh judgment. “It was more than a couple of months.”
Xavier lowered his right foot onto the floor and leaned forward. “Those women don’t define you, Van. You do. And with all you’ve accomplished, you’ve defined yourself very well.”
Donovan stared blindly at the papers strewn across his desk. Xavier’s words were powerful, but then so was Donovan’s reluctance. “If my past doesn’t define me, why do I need to tell Rose?”
“We can’t forget the past. It’s a part of who we are.” Xavier spread his hands. As always, he had an answer for everything. “We can’t rewrite it, and we shouldn’t forget it.”
Donovan wanted to take his friend’s counsel, but there was a lot at stake—perhaps too much. His body tightened as he remembered the way Rose had felt in his arms. Her scent. Her taste. He inhaled deeply, filling his lungs to ease his tension. The scent of fresh coffee teased him even as he tried to hold on to the memory of Rose’s fragrance, vanilla and spice.
“I don’t know how far this thing with Rose will go.” Donovan ran his right hand over his clean-shaven head. “I don’t even know what to call it.”
“Then don’t call it anything.” Xavier shrugged.
“You’re full of answers today.”
“It’s not hard when the answers are obvious.”
“I wish they were to me.” Donovan snorted. “I’m still not ready to risk what might happen if Rose finds out about my past.”
“I understand, but I don’t think Rose will walk out on you. She needs you for the reunion.”
Why did it bother him to have Xavier remind him of his bargain with Rose? He and Rose referred to their “relationship” as fake all the time. It shouldn’t disturb him to have other people make the same observation.
But it did.
Donovan crossed his arms over his chest. “We only have another six weeks with each other. That’s another reason not to bring up the past.”
&nbs
p; “You’re right. But there’s a really good reason to stop avoiding it.”
“What?”
“If you don’t define yourself to Rose, someone else will.”
That realization didn’t sit well with Donovan. He didn’t want to risk some stranger telling Rose who he was. Whether they remained friends or became something more, he wanted to be the one who explained his past to her.
* * *
Donovan grabbed his project folder and started toward his office door late on Tuesday morning. His first stop would be Tyler’s office for a product update before he continued on to his 11:00 a.m. meeting with his sales team. But before he got to his door, his cell phone buzzed. His caller identification recognized Medgar Lawrence’s number. The longtime board member never contacted him during the day.
He accepted the call with an uneasy feeling. “Medgar, hi. How can I help you?”
“You can stop Boy Wonder from taking your job.” Medgar’s rough voice was thick with disgust.
“Cecil?” With his foot, Donovan nudged the stopper out from under his office door. He shut the door, then dropped onto one of the chairs at his small circular conversation table. “What’s going on?”
“I’ll give you the short version.” Medgar blew an exasperated breath. “Last night, you sent the entire board an email update, explaining that the city council didn’t have an update for your young lady.”
“That’s right.” Although he hadn’t referred to Rose as his “young lady.”
“Boy Wonder copied your email and forwarded it to the board—minus you—claiming that, if he were in charge, we’d have a response by now. He also said some disparaging things about your lady’s legal experience. Here, I’m forwarding the email to you now.” Medgar sounded distracted as he went through the process of sending the email.
“I can’t believe this.” Donovan’s temper sparked at the knowledge that Cecil had disparaged Rose. “What’s the reaction been?”
“Mixed.” Medgar snorted. “Our subcommittee knows he’s a young upstart—that he’s all fire and flash, no substance. But he’s managed to snow the rest of the board.” He snorted again. “I’ve often wondered about the IQ of some of our members.”
Donovan withheld his verbal agreement with Medgar’s suspicions about some of their colleagues. He’d witnessed the Cecil Effect himself during regular board meetings and other events. It was as though some members—all responsible, successful professionals in their own right—were under a type of spell. What was it about Cecil that impressed some people beyond reason?
“If Cecil’s the leadership they want, then I’m not in a position to get in their way.” Although he wondered whether he’d be able to remain with the board under the leadership of someone as criminally clueless as Cecil Lowell.
“Then you’d better put yourself in the position. I told you, Boy Wonder is after your job.”
“I’m not going to block the members’ right to elect my successor when my term ends next October.”
“That’s what I’m trying to tell you, Van.” Medgar spoke slowly. “This Gen Y baby isn’t trying to wait until your term is over. He wants your job now, and he’s planning a coup to take it.”
Donovan froze. “He hasn’t served on the board a full term, but he thinks he’s qualified to be president?”
“Now you’re getting it.”
“Do any of the board members support him?”
“Quite a few. He talks a good game.”
“I can’t believe this.” Donovan was tempted to let the board stew in their folly. But he couldn’t. Some members might be willing to act rashly, but their work wasn’t a game. Real lives were at stake.
“Read his email.” Medgar’s advice stopped the carousel of Donovan’s thoughts.
Donovan checked his black wristwatch. It was a few minutes before 11:00 a.m. “I’ve got a meeting. I’ll read it afterward.”
“I’m sorry to interrupt you at work. But Salma, Kim and I want you to at least serve out your term.”
“I appreciate that.” Donovan stood, preparing to leave.
“What are you going to do?”
Donovan crossed to his door. “Like you said, I’m going to serve out my term.”
* * *
“Have you had dinner?” Donovan showed up at Rose’s door Tuesday evening. He hoped the bags of Mexican takeout he’d brought would get him into her house. The expression on her face told him he’d need more than hope.
Rose leaned against her doorjamb, arms crossed. “I thought we talked about this yesterday. We’re not really dating.”
“I know, but I wanted to see you.”
Her gaze wavered. “You can’t just show up, Van. It’s not cute.”
“But I come bearing gifts.” He lifted the large paper bag of takeout. “It’s from the restaurant where we had lunch. You liked the food.”
A light breeze played with Rose’s hair and carried the scent of wisteria from her garden. She was silent for several seconds, her gaze moving from his to the bag and back.
Finally, she stepped back. “You play dirty.”
“All’s fair.” He crossed into her home and waited while she locked her front door.
Rose led him past her living room and into her kitchen. Donovan’s gaze paused on her black leather love seat. The memory of the last time he’d visited still stirred his body. He was having a similar reaction to the sight of her tonight. Her dark brown blouse traced her slender curves, and her black shorts hugged her slim, well-rounded posterior. Her endlessly long, honey-gold legs were slim and well-toned. Even her bare feet were sexy. The whimsical pink nail polish seemed out of character for her strong, no-nonsense personality.
Rose’s kitchen was smaller than Lily’s, but Donovan felt more at home here. He liked the vivid blue walls framed with white hardwood. Silver curtains hung in the windows and French doors. They almost matched her kitchen appliances. Place mats sat in the center of her white wooden table.
Rose pulled plates from a cupboard and silverware from a drawer. Together, they served the meal. Donovan remembered Rose liked the chicken fajitas. He’d bought himself enchiladas. They split the Spanish rice and pinto beans.
Anecdotes about their workday and current news carried them through most of dinner. It wasn’t until he was helping Rose clean up after the meal that she circled back to the fact that he wasn’t supposed to be there.
“Now, why are you really here?” Rose offered him another glass of iced tea before leading him back to her living room.
Donovan took the love seat alone. Rose settled onto the sofa. Her body language was clear: she wasn’t taking any chances tonight.
“I wanted to talk with you.” Now that he was here, the words wouldn’t come. His mind was drawing a blank on what he needed to say and how he should say it.
“You could have called.” Rose curled her long runner’s legs beneath her.
Donovan’s palm tingled with the need to caress her graceful calf. He lifted his eyes to hers. “I needed to tell you this in person.”
“What’s happened?” The concern in Rose’s chocolate eyes made Donovan feel less isolated. It was reassurance that she had some feelings for him.
“Rose, I want you to know...”
“What?” she gently prodded.
“I was homeless. My father and I. For about a year and a half. When I was eleven.” Donovan took a deep drink of his iced tea, then waited for Rose’s reaction. His tension increased with every second of silence.
“Van, I know.” Her tone was almost apologetic.
“You know?” Donovan frowned when she nodded confirmation. “How?”
“One of my classmates, Tasha Smalls, works with Whitley Maxwell.”
Donovan winced at the mention of his former girlfriend. He drew a de
ep breath, then exhaled. “It really is a small world.”
A smile eased the concern on Rose’s lovely face. “Tasha didn’t have any details. But she thought I should know.”
“How long have you known?”
“She told me about four days ago.”
Donovan did the math. Rose’s friend had told her about his past the day before they’d made out on this very love seat. His muscles pulsed again. “What did you tell her?”
“I pretended that I already knew. I didn’t want her to think we were keeping secrets from each other.”
“I’m sorry. I probably should have told you sooner.”
Rose shrugged a shoulder. “We have a business arrangement. You’re not under any obligation to share personal details of your life with me.”
“I suppose not.” Donovan stood to pace her living room. He took another long drink of iced tea.
“Tasha told me because she thought your being homeless even for a brief time in your childhood would matter to me. It doesn’t.”
“Are you sure?” He spoke over his shoulder.
“Positive. But I have to say you’ve really impressed me.”
“Why?” Donovan turned away from her fireplace and faced her.
“Look at what you’ve accomplished.” Rose spread her hands. Her eyes were wide with surprise. “You’ve already achieved a lot by becoming one of the top executives at a successful, international computer gaming company. And you’re only in your thirties. You accomplished all that despite your disadvantaged background. Your parents would be very proud of you.”
Donovan turned back to the fireplace. Her words had rocked him. He braced his hands on the mantel to keep himself upright. When he’d told the woman who’d professed to love him that he’d been homeless, she’d kicked him to the curb. But now the woman with whom he had a business relationship offered him words of encouragement and admiration.
He drew a deep breath to settle the chaos churning inside him. “I hope my parents would be proud. They were good people.”
“May I ask what happened?” Rose was uncharacteristically tentative.
Donovan faced her, shoving his hands into the front pockets of his tan shorts. “My mother had cancer. It came as a shock to our family because she took really good care of herself. She exercised, ate healthy, never smoked. Still, she contracted cancer. And despite her regular health checkups, her doctor didn’t discover the cancer until it was too late.”
