by Regina Hart
“I’m so sorry.”
“So am I.” Donovan cleared his throat. His mother had died twenty-five years ago. Still sometimes it hurt as if it was yesterday. “My father thought we had good health insurance, but it wasn’t good enough. After two years of treatments, my mother died and we were left with a lot of debt.”
Restless, Donovan moved away from the fireplace to continue pacing Rose’s living room. “It was hard on my father, taking care of me and my mother. It was too much. He lost his landscaping business.”
Rose gasped. “That’s horrible.”
“Yes, it was.” Donovan turned away from Rose’s sound system and walked toward her bay window. “It took a while, but with the help of strangers, my father was able to get back on his feet. Things were never the same after my mother died, though. They’d been high school sweethearts and very much in love.” Donovan stopped and stared out the window at the gathering twilight.
He didn’t hear her leave the sofa, but Rose’s reflection appeared beside his in the window. She wrapped her arms around him from behind and rested her cheek on his back between his shoulder blades. The soft weight was comforting, healing.
“Your parents were very impressive people.” Her words were just barely audible. “They would be proud of the man you’ve become, all that you’ve accomplished and of what you’re giving back to the community.”
It wasn’t his imagination. He was falling in love with Rose Beharie—if he hadn’t already fallen.
Donovan turned in her embrace. Rose dropped her arms and stepped back. Her chocolate eyes were soft with compassion, warm with admiration and bright with curiosity. His gaze sought her mouth. Her soft, pink lips parted slightly. His need to taste their fullness was like a fever. His muscles ached with the urge to pull her to him, lower his mouth to hers and drink her sweetness.
But it was the compassion in her eyes that kept him at a distance. When he kissed her—and he fully intended to kiss her again—he wanted to taste her passion, not her pity.
“Thank you.” Donovan forced his legs to carry him past Rose and back to her fireplace.
“Is your experience the reason you volunteer with the homeless shelter?”
“Yes.” Donovan met Rose’s eyes over his shoulder. “But I don’t know how much longer I’ll be on the board.”
“What would make you say that?” Rose stepped closer.
Donovan crossed his arms over his chest and faced her. “One of the junior members of the board is preparing to challenge my presidency. He and I have very different visions for the shelter. If the board agrees with his vision, I don’t think I could stay.”
“That would be a shame.” She placed her hand on his bicep. “But whatever you choose to do, I know you’ll make your parents proud.”
Donovan gazed down into her beautiful eyes. What kind of man would make Rose Beharie proud? He needed to know because he wanted to be that man.
Chapter 10
Donovan stood at the podium in the Hope Homeless Shelter’s community room on Thursday night. Medgar, Salma and Kim thought it had been a mistake to wait nine days before calling this special meeting of the board of directors. They’d argued the delay gave Cecil more time to persuade members to support him as an alternative to Donovan. Perhaps they were right.
He was taking a calculated risk. Donovan wanted to finish his term. However, he needed to know where the other members stood. He wanted them to have the opportunity to consider their options. Did they share his vision for the shelter or did they find Cecil’s ideas more attractive? He hoped tonight he’d have the answers to his questions.
“Good evening, and thank you for coming.” Donovan waited for the other twenty-four board members to quiet down before he continued.
Cecil was seated in the front row. Medgar, Kim and Salma sat apart from him toward the center of the audience.
The best defense is a strong offense. How many times had his father reminded him of that?
Donovan rested his hands on the podium’s smooth, cool wooden surface and held Cecil’s gaze. “Some of you have a different goal for the shelter than I do. And you want to work toward that goal now. Isn’t that correct, Cecil?”
The look of surprise that crossed Cecil’s soft, round features would have been humorous if the situation wasn’t so serious.
Cecil slid forward on his chair. “You’re right. You and I disagree on several things, including the pawnshop. I believe that the area needs more businesses, not less.”
Had Cecil been misrepresenting his position to the other board members? That wouldn’t surprise him.
“I don’t believe we need fewer businesses in the community. We need the right ones.”
“And what would your definition of right be, Mr. President?” Cecil stood and looked around the room, drawing the other members’ attention to him.
Donovan glanced toward Medgar, Kim and Salma. They wore various expressions of disgust at Cecil’s display. Kim rolled her eyes.
Their reaction restored his sense of humor. “I appreciate your asking that question, Cecil. My definition of the right type of business is one that gives back to the community. And I mean more than just during Operation Feed or United Way drives.”
“All right, I’ll bite.” Cecil crossed his arms over his narrow chest. “Gives back how?”
“With good jobs and services that benefit our clients. We need businesses that maintain their property, and participate in the community instead of just draining money from it.” Donovan considered Cecil’s brash manner. Did he realize the importance of this debate?
“These are adult men and women.” Cecil smirked. “Why are you so intent on coddling them?”
“It’s fine for you to talk about coddling people, Cecil. How far from your home is the nearest pawnshop?”
“What does that have to do with anything?”
“Just take a guess.”
“I have no idea.”
“Is it five blocks, ten blocks?”
“I’ve never seen one in my neighborhood.” Cecil shrugged his narrow shoulders under his conservative black suit jacket.
“Really?” Donovan arched a brow. “Then someone’s coddling you.”
A murmur of agreement rolled across the room. Donovan glanced back toward Medgar, Kim and Salma. They smiled at him.
“I wouldn’t be opposed to having a pawnshop move into my neighborhood.” Cecil dropped his arms and glanced around the room.
Donovan sensed his opponent’s growing agitation. “Then perhaps you could invite Public Pawn to open a location there instead of in the shelter’s neighborhood.”
A few chuckles interrupted their debate. Cecil flushed. “Maybe I will.”
“For the record, I wouldn’t be opposed to having a grocery store, convenience mart or pharmacy move into the vacant buildings near the shelter.”
“Oh, ho!” Cecil threw his arms up. His grandstanding was an obvious effort to turn the tide back in his favor. “Now you want to pick and choose the types of companies that move into the neighborhood.”
“Communities have been doing that for years.” Donovan released the podium and stepped back. “You’ve put on a good show for this audience, Cecil. But this debate is not for entertainment value. The outcome of tonight’s meeting will impact the community we’re supposed to be serving and decide the vision for the shelter’s future.”
Cecil gave him a challenging smile. “Are you really going to do this?”
“Yes, I am. I won’t single-handedly decide the direction the shelter should take. That’s up to the board and I’m willing to let them have their say.” Donovan glanced at Medgar, Kim and Salma. Their wide-eyed expressions of shock didn’t bolster his confidence. “Do I have a motion for an emergency vote for president of the board?”
Cec
il cocked his chin. “I move that an emergency vote for president of the board be held tonight.”
Donovan nodded. “Do I have a second?”
Medgar raised his hand slowly. “I’ll second the motion.”
“The motion has been made and seconded.” Donovan caught the eyes of several board members. “Is anyone opposed?” No one responded.
The murmurings were picking up again. Excitement swept the room. Board members looked at each other with surprise and anticipation. Donovan was disappointed to have come to a point where he had to defend his presidency, but if this was what the membership wanted, he would respect their wishes and the outcome of the vote.
He gripped the sides of the podium and leaned toward the microphone. “All those in favor of terminating the current presidency and holding elections for a new president of the board of directors, please raise your hand.”
Cecil’s hand rose before Donovan had finished speaking. That was to be expected. What he hadn’t expected was the reaction of the rest of the board.
* * *
Rose answered her cellular phone as soon as she saw it was Donovan. “What happened?”
“The board voted against electing a new president.” The relief in Donovan’s voice was palpable.
“You’re still president?” Rose was almost afraid to ask.
“I’m still president.”
“I knew it! I knew it! I knew it!” Rose sprang from her black leather sofa. She jumped up and down, shouting with joy. “Oh, my word. That’s fantastic. Congratulations!”
Donovan’s chuckles grew into laughter—full, deep and appreciative. “Thank you.”
“Tell me everything.” Relief made Rose’s muscles weak. She collapsed back onto her sofa, listening intently while Donovan gave her an overview of the debate between him and Cecil.
“That would have been the perfect time to bow out of your position and just let Cecil take over.”
“Yes, I guess it would have been.”
“Then why didn’t you?”
“I don’t know.”
“I think I do.”
“Do you think you know me, Ms. Beharie, after only two months?” Donovan teased. The amusement in his voice sent shivers of pleasure up and down Rose’s spine.
“I wouldn’t go that far. But I think you didn’t abdicate your presidency because the hero in you didn’t want to leave your clients unprotected.”
“I’m not a hero, Rose. But I admit the idea of Cecil leading the board and implementing his vision for the shelter makes my blood run cold. He’s too young, not just chronologically. He doesn’t have a clue about the vulnerability of disadvantaged communities.”
Despite his protests, Rose knew Donovan was a hero. His words and actions proved it. But she’d keep his secret, if that’s what he wanted. Let him protect his alter ego.
Rose stood from her sofa. “This calls for a celebration. What are you doing tomorrow night?”
“I don’t know. What do you have in mind?”
“How about dinner, my treat?”
“Why, Ms. Beharie, are you asking me out on a date?”
Rose sensed a trap beneath Donovan’s teasing tone. “No, this isn’t a date. It’s just a friendly celebration to commemorate your victory.”
“Sounds like a date.”
“Well, it’s not.” Rose wouldn’t allow him to twist her intent. “Do you want to go out with me or not?”
“I will gladly accept your generous offer, which sounds a lot like a date.”
“But isn’t.” Rose proposed the time and location. “I’ll pick you up at your place.”
“I don’t think a woman’s ever picked me up for a date before.”
“Your record still stands because this isn’t a date, stubborn man. Are we going to do this or not?” She was torn between exasperation and amusement. Amusement was getting the upper hand.
“I look forward to seeing you tomorrow night. Sleep well, Rose.”
“You, too, Mr. President.” Rose ended the call with Donovan’s chuckle warm in her ear.
It was still early. She curled onto the sofa, setting the cellular phone on the coffee table in front of her. She was restless and excited, almost distracted with anticipation. Was she that excited over her upcoming night out with Donovan? More and more, Rose sensed the line blurring between fact and fantasy.
* * *
“You’re serious about this.” Donovan made the words a statement rather than a question. He climbed out of Rose’s cobalt-blue BMW and closed the passenger-side door. He stood beside the car, staring across the parking lot at The Cheese Quartet.
“Of course, I’m serious.” Rose studied her companion in amusement. Why hadn’t he believed her when she’d told him she was taking him to a pizzeria? She tossed a grin at Donovan over her shoulder as she led him to the restaurant’s entrance.
“A pizzeria.” Donovan sounded disbelieving.
“It’s not just any pizzeria.” Rose spread her arms. “It’s The Cheese Quartet. They have fabulous pizza.”
“I’m sure they do.” Donovan still sounded dubious.
Rose mounted the sidewalk. Donovan’s arm reached from behind her to pull open the entrance door. She looked up to thank him, then looked away before she could get lost in his wicked hazel gaze.
Minutes later, Rose trailed their host to a booth in a quiet section of the restaurant. Donovan followed her. She gazed around the crowded dining area. The wood trim framed stenciled musical notes interspersed with vibrant, stylized sketches of musicians and singers who were from Ohio, including John Legend, Macy Gray and Chrissie Hynde. The young man offered them menus, then left them on their own.
“I’m giving you fair warning—I don’t like a lot of toppings on my pizza.” Rose opened the menu to view her choices.
“I do.” Donovan didn’t sound prepared to back down.
Rose watched him closely. “What do you think about this place?”
“It’s nice.” He took in the decor with an expression of appreciation. “But it’s not very romantic.”
“I told you, this isn’t a date.”
“I got that impression when you showed up at my house in your denim shorts and strappy sandals.” The look in his eyes, the tone of his voice made her body overheat.
Rose broke eye contact and dived back into her menu. It hadn’t changed much since the last time she’d been here several months prior. “You would’ve understood this was just a celebration if you’d listened when I explained that over the phone last night.”
“Spoken like a true girlfriend.” His voice rumbled with laughter. “This just isn’t what I imagined when you invited me to dinner.”
“What had you expected?” Rose looked up. She was really curious.
“Something more upscale. You’re too elegant for a pizza joint.”
Rose stilled. “Is that the way you see me—elegant, cool, untouchable?”
“I believe I showed you a couple of weeks ago that I find you anything but untouchable.” His voice lowered until its sound strummed the muscles of her lower abdomen. Steam swirled in his hazel eyes.
Rose forced herself to maintain eye contact. “Then why can’t you picture me eating pizza?”
“I guess I need to get to know you better.”
How do we always end up right back there?
Rose started to reply when a familiar voice called her name.
“Rose, I thought that was you. What a coincidence.” Maxine materialized beside their booth with an attractive man.
Panic! “Maxine, what are you doing here?”
“Isiah and I came to have dinner. When I saw you, we headed straight for your table.” Her friend gestured toward the tall, handsome man standing behind her. “Rose Beharie, my fiancé
, Isiah Russell. Isiah, Rose is one of the legal ladies I have dinner with once a month.”
Isiah stepped forward to offer Rose his hand. “It’s good to meet you, Rose. Maxine has told me a lot about her law school friends.”
Rose swallowed her dread. “It’s very nice to meet you, Isiah.”
Rose sent a distressed look in Donovan’s direction. She read the message in his eyes: See? Maxine told her fiancé all about you, but I didn’t know she existed.
Rose felt about three inches tall. She smothered a groan and turned her attention back to Maxine. The silence sounded like inevitability. It was apparent her friend was prepared to wait all day for an introduction to Donovan Carroll of Anderson Adventures. Maxine had made it very clear that she was a big fan of his company’s computer games.
Rose took a deep breath, drawing in the scent of cheese and spices. “Maxine Ellerson and Isiah Russell, my...boyfriend, Donovan Carroll.”
Donovan’s eyes laughed at her as he rose to his feet. He stepped out of the booth to greet her friends. “It’s a pleasure to meet both of you.”
“Mr. Carroll.” Maxine held on to Donovan’s proffered hand. “Isiah and are a big fans of your company’s games. Osiris’ Journey has blown our minds. It takes gaming to a whole other level.”
“Thank you. Please call me Van.” Donovan grinned. “I’ll be sure to share your enthusiasm with Ty Anderson.”
Wide-eyed, Maxine turned to Rose and mouthed, “Ty Anderson.”
“Van, it’s good to meet you.” Isiah’s greeting was more understated. “Great job with the game.”
“Thank you. I appreciate that.” Donovan released the other man’s hand. He took a step back and gestured toward the booth he’d just vacated. “Why don’t you join us?”
Rose’s eyes flared. Had he just...?
“We’d love to. Thank you.” Maxine slipped into the booth. Isiah followed her.