by Regina Hart
“We need to call another special meeting of the subcommittee.” The urgency in Cecil’s voice demanded Donovan’s full attention.
“What’s happened?” Donovan remembered to lock his computer system before turning away from his monitor.
“We need to strategize what we’re going to do if the city council rejects our statement.” The observation was strange coming from Cecil, who hadn’t supported the board’s statement in the first place.
Donovan sat back on his black, padded executive chair. He struggled again to keep his impatience from his tone. “What makes you think the council will reject our statement?”
“As I made clear after my review of the statement, I have reservations about your girlfriend’s work.”
Donovan started to deny the personal relationship between him and Rose until he remembered that they were indeed trying to project that image. They’d agreed to maintain their pretense within both of their social circles to help keep their story straight. It also would protect them against having their cover blown by mutual acquaintances they may not be aware of. Six degrees of separation, you never knew who you may know.
He pinched the bridge of his nose. “Cecil, any reservations you have come from your opposition to the statement in general.”
“No, they stemmed from the fact that the arguments against the pawnshop weren’t well formulated.”
Donovan swallowed his laughter. “Where did you get your law degree, Cecil?”
“I don’t need a law degree to recognize the arguments in the statement are weak.” Cecil’s tone was dismissive. “I realize you’re impressed with your girlfriend’s work, but as I made clear during our review, I’m not.”
Donovan sat up, fisting his left hand on his modular Plexiglas desk. “Rose is more than my girlfriend. She’s an experienced lawyer and an associate with a prestigious law firm.”
Cecil sighed. “I know we needed a lawyer who’d represent us pro bono, but your decision to work with your girlfriend doesn’t show good judgment. I think you should know that I’m going to challenge your presidency for the board of directors.”
Donovan hadn’t expected this. “You’re going to ask the board for a special election to choose a new president in the middle of the term?”
“That’s right. We need a chairman with better vision for the shelter. We can’t continue down this road. It’s too destructive.”
Donovan was intrigued. “And you’re going to suggest the board elect you as its next president?”
“I realize I’m the junior member, but it’s time for new blood and fresh ideas. You’ve been wrong on too many things.”
The accusation stung. Donovan took a calming breath, drawing in the scent of fresh coffee. “Such as?”
“The pawnshop.” Cecil raised his voice. “I gave you a list of reasons why the board should support the shop moving into the neighborhood.”
His list had included a series of unsupported predictions. It had given Donovan grave concerns about Cecil’s critical thinking skills. He rubbed the back of his neck.
Donovan pictured Cecil making this call from his office desk at the bank. Did the young executive not have enough work to occupy his time?
“The majority of members voted to oppose the shop.” Donovan hadn’t forgotten that Cecil was the only member who thought the shop would have a positive impact on the struggling community.
“If I were chair, I wouldn’t have allowed the vote.” Cecil snorted. “I’d have convinced the members that the pawnshop would benefit the shelter.”
“You tried that. No one supported you.” Donovan’s memory flashed back to Cecil going on for ten minutes, reading his memo on what he predicted would be the benefits of having the pawnshop in the community. Kim Lee had finally cut him off.
“As a new business in the community, it would be in the pawnshop owner’s interest to support the shelter. It also would bring new customers into the neighborhood who would then see the services we offer to the homeless.”
Donovan didn’t have time to humor Cecil. He needed to return to work. “I’m glad you’re willing to make a greater commitment to the shelter. But we don’t need a special meeting to strategize a response to the city council’s decision. We can wait until we hear from them.”
“I disagree.” Cecil’s tone was adamant.
Donovan wasn’t impressed. “I’m still in charge. We can discuss proposed responses to the council’s decision during our regular meeting.”
“That’s two weeks away. Suppose the council makes its decision before then?” Cecil sounded agitated.
“Then we’ll meet sooner.” Donovan turned back to his monitor. “I’m sorry, Cecil, but I need to get back to work.”
“Oh, I’m sorry. Did my concern for the homeless take you away from your computer games?” Cecil’s sarcasm wasn’t lost on Donovan.
But instead of irritating him, Donovan chose to be amused.
“As always, Cecil, your concern is appreciated. I’ll let you get back to work now.” He recradled his phone and returned to the sales plan he was drafting for one of the games in development.
Donovan didn’t want to stifle Cecil’s enthusiasm. He was right that the board of directors could use fresh, young voices. Donovan was the second-youngest person on the board. Most of the members were in their late fifties and early sixties. Cecil could prove to be a strong asset for the board for years to come. But the young executive needed guidance to better focus his passion and creativity.
He also needed to learn patience. Donovan wasn’t ready to give up his position as board president. And he wouldn’t allow Cecil to malign Rose to get his way.
Chapter 7
“Ms. Beharie, Donovan Carroll is here to see you.” Mai Liu made the announcement to Rose over the phone minutes before noon on Tuesday. The Apple & Spencer LLC’s receptionist sounded mildly curious, which was understandable. Rose never received personal visits at the law firm’s offices.
“Thanks, Mai. I’ll be right there.” Rose recradled her telephone receiver.
What was Donovan thinking to show up at her place of business unannounced? She stood from her desk and shrugged into her sapphire blazer. She had to establish a few ground rules with him. Rose crossed the thick, beige carpet and walked out of her door.
The heels of her dark blue pumps tapped against the marble tile as she strode past the rows of tan cubicles. The work areas for administrative and support staff were surrounded by the dark wood doors and glass walls of the firm’s partners and associates. Some of the staff had already left for lunch, including Rose’s administrative assistant. Others appeared to be working while they ate. Rose descended the wide, winding metal-and-tile staircase that led to Apple & Spencer’s reception area. She paused at the base of the stairs.
Donovan stood with his back to her as he examined the abstract painting mounted to the opposite wall. Rose took the opportunity to study the man just as carefully. His appearance was deceptively casual in a caramel jersey and warm brown slacks. But the fine material of his clothing marked him as a man of means. The strength and power beneath the well-cut cloth revealed him as someone not to be taken lightly. Donovan turned and smiled at her almost as though he had known she was there. Had he felt her staring? Rose’s gaze dropped to the dozen long-stemmed red roses in his hand.
They walked toward each other, meeting in front of Mai’s desk. Donovan leaned forward to kiss her cheek. In reflex, Rose started to pull back, and his lips grazed the corner of her mouth instead. His hazel eyes twinkled as he straightened.
“These are for you.” He offered her the bouquet.
Rose took the gift and glanced toward Mai. The young woman was gazing at them as though she expected Donovan to sweep Rose off her feet and carry her onto the street.
“Thank you. They’re beautiful.�
� Beautiful and unexpected. Rose stepped back. “Why don’t we go up to my office?”
She led the way upstairs, feeling awkward with Donovan’s tall, silent presence beside her. In her three-inch heels, Rose matched the height of most of the men she knew and was taller than a few. But Donovan practically towered over her, making her feel almost petite. She would have laughed at that thought if she weren’t so conscious of the attention directed their way.
She never received personal visits at the office. Since she’d left empty-handed and returned cradling a bouquet of red roses and baby’s breath, she couldn’t pass Donovan off as a client. She inclined her head at a couple of coworkers before she reached the sanctuary of her office. She stepped aside to allow Donovan to precede her, then pulled shut her thick maple door.
“Why are you here, Van?” Rose crossed the room and laid the roses on her desk.
“I’m getting into character.” He stood in the center of her office, looking around. “Wow, you are really tidy.”
His comment distracted her from her follow-up question. Rose scanned her office, trying to imagine it from his perspective. Her wall-to-wall beige carpet and matching furniture gave her office a bright, spacious look. Her Plexiglas inbox was full but neat. Her laptop sat in the center of her ash-wood-and-Plexiglas modular desk. The blond wood bookcase behind her was crammed with case binders and reference books. In contrast to the whirlwind that was Donovan’s office, she supposed her workspace seemed obsessively neat.
Rose propped a hip against the side of her desk. “What do you mean, you’re getting into character?”
“I’m supposed to be your boyfriend.” Donovan sat on one of the beige faux-leather guest chairs in front of her desk. “I’m doing the things a boyfriend should do.”
Rose glanced down at her bouquet. She needed to get a vase for them. “Is that what your greeting was about?” She hadn’t expected him to try to kiss her.
“Suppose we’re at your reunion and one of your former classmates asks if I’ve ever been to your firm or whether I’ve ever bought you roses.” Donovan settled back on the chair and propped his right ankle onto his left knee.
Rose pulled her attention from his long, lean thigh and met his gaze. “We could just lie and say yes to both.”
“We could.” Donovan shrugged, the movement of his broad shoulders fluid under his dark jersey. “But we agreed to keep the story as close to the truth as possible. Our responses would be more authentic if we’re working from memories rather than lies.”
Rose’s gaze dropped again to her bouquet. She hated to admit it, but the man had a point. Even though their whole relationship was make-believe, she couldn’t imagine faking what she’d felt when she received these “just because” roses. “You’re right.”
Donovan’s features brightened with his grin. “Something tells me I should mark this day with a ceremonial plaque.”
“Don’t push it.” Rose gave him a dry look.
“With this one visit, we’ve already accomplished three things.” Donovan stood. He was too close.
Rose straightened from her desk, putting space between them. “What are they?”
“I’ve seen where you work, met one of your coworkers.” He closed the distance. “And I bought you roses.”
Rose backed up. “That’s a lot for people who’ve only been in a relationship since March.”
She glanced toward the glass walls of her office to see if anyone else had noticed that Donovan was crowding her. No one seemed to be paying attention to them, although she could be mistaken.
“It’s just the beginning. Most importantly, we have to become more comfortable with each other. We have to learn to trust each other.” Donovan closed the gap between them again. He was invading her personal space.
His scent, sandalwood and musk, enveloped Rose. His body heat spread into her clothing. Rose forced herself to hold her ground and his gaze. “I’m comfortable with you,” she lied.
Donovan chuckled. It was a low, rumbling sound that she felt vibrate in her lower abdomen. “Then why do you flinch every time I touch you?”
“I don’t.”
Donovan leaned in—Rose reared back. His sexy lips curved in a smug smile. “Yes, you do.” He straightened. “You can’t do that at your reunion. You’ll give us away.”
“I’ll have that under control before the reunion.”
“How?”
The man was frustrating, especially when he was right. “Fine, we’ll spend time together. But we can’t go from zero to sixty. Back up. If you get any closer, you’ll be in my suit.”
Donovan took a step back, and Rose breathed more easily.
“Sorry.” He flashed her a friendly smile.
Rose ignored it and the way it weakened her knees. “That’s fine. What do you propose we do to get more comfortable with each other?”
Donovan cocked his head. “Why don’t we start with something simple, like lunch?”
Rose checked her silver Timex wristwatch. “I can do that.”
This was a surprise. In a matter of minutes, they’d agreed on two things: roses and lunch. She’d begun to think they’d never come to a consensus on anything. Their constant disagreements wouldn’t play well during her reunion. They needed to project a loving and harmonious relationship. Benjamin—and his pregnant wife—had to believe she’d found her happily-ever-after with the man of her dreams.
Rose collected her purse from the bottom drawer of one of her file cabinets. She swallowed a sigh. Would she ever find her happy ending? Was she even meant to have one? She slid a sideways look at Donovan as she adjusted the strap of her purse onto her shoulder. So far, all she’d come up with was an agreement with a stranger for a fake relationship. It didn’t seem that her fairy-tale ending was destined to happen anytime soon.
“After you.” Donovan stepped aside, then winked at her.
Rose’s heart fluttered at the casual gesture. At least her make-believe prince was undeniably handsome and incredibly sexy. As far as fake relationships went, this one had its perks. Too bad it was all a farce.
* * *
Donovan took in the happy expressions of the people gathered around Lily Beharie’s dining table on Wednesday night. He could still smell the spicy grilled chicken, warm, buttery mashed potatoes and tangy salad dressing. For dessert, the ladies had served hot apple pie à la mode.
It was more than a week after Donovan had paid the surprise visit to Rose’s law firm with the dozen red roses and suggested they get to know each other better before her reunion. Tonight was another step in that direction—they were now getting to know each other’s friends and family.
Lily was seated at the head of the table, with Xavier to her left and Tyler on her right. Xavier seemed to be paying particular attention to Lily. Although Lily was friendly, she didn’t seem encouraging. Rose sat at the other end of the table on Donovan’s left. Iris sat across from him beside Tyler. They were all dressed in business clothes since they’d met right after work.
Donovan had persuaded Rose to extend a dinner invitation to him, Tyler and Xavier during their spontaneous lunch last Tuesday. He’d used the excuse that they needed to “better develop” their fake relationship. Rose had seemed dubious at first, almost as though she’d known Donovan just wanted to spend more time with her but apparently his fake girlfriend believed there was safety in numbers.
Lily caught Donovan’s gaze as she returned her glass of ice water to the table. “Have you received a response to your statement from the city?”
“We haven’t heard anything yet.” Donovan turned his attention to Rose. “I don’t know what’s taking so long.”
“It’s only been two weeks.” Rose’s voice was patient as she reminded him. “However, if I don’t hear anything from the council by Friday, I’ll contact them for an update on Mo
nday.”
“Fair enough. Thanks.” Donovan gazed around the table. He was encouraged by how well the evening was going. “Why did you start the Beharie family dinners?”
“Our parents started it once we all moved back to Columbus after college and graduate school.” Rose’s voice was warm with happy memories.
“When Lily moved back into the house after they died, it seemed natural for us to continue the tradition.” Iris cut into her pie and ice cream.
“It’s a nice tradition.” Donovan’s observation was an understatement. He admired their tradition and the familial closeness it fostered. “I’m sorry for your loss.”
“Thank you.” Rose gave him a gentle smile. “Losing them was difficult.”
“These dinners helped us deal with our grief.” Lily toyed with her pie and ice cream.
Rose swallowed a bite of dessert. “The only difference is that we get together on Wednesdays instead of Sundays. We couldn’t wait the whole week.”
“No, we couldn’t.” Iris chuckled. “These have become great venting sessions to talk about heavy caseloads.” She nodded toward Rose, then squeezed Tyler’s forearm over the sleeve of his brown jersey. “And unreasonable clients.”
“Hey, now.” Tyler pretended to glower at her but the laughter in his eyes gave him away.
Xavier turned to Lily. “What do you vent about?”
Lily shrugged a shoulder beneath her pale pink blouse. “I don’t have much to complain about.”
“Lil is our therapist.” Rose grinned. “She keeps Iris and me from going off the deep end.”
“That’s a full-time job.” Lily sent her older sister a mocking look.
Donovan smiled. He was seeing a different side of Rose, a warm and loving side. She and her sisters shared an unbreakable bond of love, trust and commitment that went beyond sibling obligations.
Rose turned to Donovan. “So how did the three of you become friends? You’re not from Columbus.”
Donovan was surprised she’d asked a personal question. He swallowed his pie before answering. “No, I’m from Chicago. We met at college, New York University. Xavier and I became friends first. Then Ty enrolled and the three of us have been close ever since.”