“But I want to. You’ve been so nice to me and my daughter today. Let me repay you. It’s not much,” she insisted.
They stood amid cars in various stages of disrepair. Behind them was a building about a half a block long, and through the open archways she could see cars up on the lift with mechanics standing beneath them reaching into the insides. It was a sunny day with a slight breeze that ruffled the ends of Tate’s ponytail.
O’Shea reached for the hand she held the forty dollars in, then he grasped her other wrist and held them both together. “Keep your money. You work for it. Buy a pretty dress and go out on the town. Have some fun,” he said, his eyes alight with what he thought was a fabulous idea.
She opened her mouth, almost telling him she had a date tonight, but she refrained. It was not a date. It was a thank-you dinner, and that’s all, she assured herself.
“Thank you,” she told O’Shea, not willing to insult him by insisting he take her money.
“Now, go get your car. I’ll wait to see that everything is okay.”
With a nod she went to a small office where she assumed the manager would be.
“Hello,” she said, knocking on the window.
There were two people sitting behind desks. One male and a female who was chewing gum as if it tasted like filet mignon.
“Hello, I’m here to pick up my car. I’m Tate Dennison,” she yelled through the Plexiglas when neither of them seemed quick to greet her.
They looked perplexed, and she figured out what the issue was. “Mr. Donovan sent my car here to be fixed. The back passenger-side window.”
The man was up and out of the office so fast Tate almost thought he was rushing to use the bathroom instead of coming to see her. A few seconds later he stood in front of her.
“Sure. Sure. The Volvo. It’s all done, ma’am,” he told her. “I’ll be right back.”
A few minutes later her car pulled up in front of her. Tate took the keys happily and slipped behind the driver’s seat. It was a good feeling to be in her own car, about to go pick up her daughter. She wasn’t used to being driven around or catered to in any way. The car was already running and she was about to shift into gear when she heard a horn beep. It was O’Shea, already in his car. She waved and smiled at him and drove out of the parking lot.
Tate glanced at her watch and wondered if she had time to circle back to her apartment and get the car seat. She quickly looked in the rearview mirror and gasped. There was a car seat already there, and it wasn’t hers. Sean Donovan had gone overboard. She figured she really did have to attend this dinner after all.
Chapter 7
Tate’s doorbell rang at precisely ten minutes to seven. She’d arrived home after picking up Briana at five-forty-five. After a quick wash-up and a meal of chicken, rice and barely consumed green beans, Briana had fallen asleep while playing in her playpen. Tate used that opportunity to grab a quick shower and toss three dresses on to the bed. She’d stared at them for about ten minutes and then closed her eyes and pointed.
The cobalt-blue dress won. Slipping it on, she was thankful for Weight Watchers Online, which got her back to her regular size 12. She still had a bit of a paunch around the waist and stretch marks that could go on for days in that same area, but that was fine. The dress was fitted across her breasts with a soft, flowing material that flared out from her bodice down to the middle of her thigh. She’d just slipped on pewter sandals with four-inch heels that would surely make her legs look more svelte than thick, as they’d been called in the past by her sister. She clasped her earrings on after she slid on a three-inch-wide bangle, then jumped when the doorbell rang.
She placed a palm to her stomach and attempted to steady her breathing as she stared at herself in the mirror. The steam from the shower had curled her hair, and she’d decided not to fuss with it. Instead she’d opted for a thin silver headband and fluffed the curls until they fell in big, happy ringlets over her shoulders.
“It’s just dinner,” she told herself. She’d been saying that for the last hour, volleying back and forth with, “I’m not going.”
Considering the fact that behind her front door was no doubt Sean Donovan, she’d say the “It’s just dinner” side had won. When the bell sounded again, Tate left her bedroom and went to answer it.
“I was starting to think I’d been stood up,” he said with a smile that washed over her like that warm shower she’d just taken.
Tate plastered her own nervous smile on and tried to breathe normally. “No. I was just getting some last-minute things together for Briana.”
“Oh, I love babies. Can I see her?” the woman to Sean’s right asked.
Her presence came as a surprise, and it almost rendered Tate speechless. There were two women with him.
“Ah, sure. Come in,” she said, taking a step back.
“Tate Dennison, this is my sister-in-law, Lyra Donovan. And this is my cousin, Regan.”
She swallowed and then spoke to the two attractive women standing in front of her. “It’s nice to meet you.”
Lyra approached her first. A petite woman with a quiet style, she immediately extended her hand and a warm smile to Tate.
“It’s a pleasure. I love your column,” Lyra said.
Regan stepped up next, shaking Tate’s hand. “I’ve been reading the column as well. I’m learning a lot from your candid advice. Great job,” Regan said.
“Thank you. You do a great job with the fashion piece as well,” was Tate’s reply.
Regan smiled, and Tate thought she’d never seen a prettier woman. Her slanted eyes lifted slightly, golden brown skin sparkled beneath impeccable makeup and her hair was perfectly styled in soft, feathery waves framing her face.
“A woman after my own heart. Fashion is numero uno.” Regan grinned at Tate.
“And here’s the baby.” Lyra sighed, looking down into the playpen, where Briana lay still asleep. “She’s precious.”
Regan crossed the room to stand beside Lyra. “A diva in the making. Just look how she owns this little bed, like she dares anyone to try and take her place.”
The women chuckled and Sean took a step closer to Tate. “I hired them to babysit Briana while we have dinner. Is that okay with you?”
Like she was really going to stand here and say no.
“It’s fine, if they’re okay with it.” She looked over at the playpen nervously to see the two women still peering down at her daughter. “Have they ever taken care of a baby?” she asked, trying to lower her voice a bit.
Regan didn’t look like she’d taken care of anyone but herself, and Tate was a little concerned with her long manicured nails and how she would handle Briana. Lyra looked like she possibly had some nurturing instincts. In fact, the woman looked as if she were dying to pick Briana up.
“I think so,” was Sean’s answer. “But they’re going to take her to my mother’s house, so Briana will be in the best hands once she gets there.”
“What? To your mother’s? Why?” That was not good. Tate’s stomach plummeted at that thought. This was just going too far. “She can’t go to your mother’s.”
He looked perplexed at her words. “Why? Is something wrong with my mother’s house?”
She immediately shook her head. “No. That’s not what I’m saying. It’s just that,” Tate paused and took a deep breath. “This is just a business dinner, Sean. It’s not like it’s a real date. Involving your family is a little bit much for me.” She told him honestly.
Briana whimpered and she stepped past Sean to see that Lyra had finally given in and bent down to pick her up. “Awww, she smells so sweet. Just like a baby.” The rest of the sentences were a series of coos and gurgles that solicited a sleepy-eyed grin from Briana.
The next thing to grab Tate’s attention was a hand to her elbow. A
hand that sent sparks of heat spearing through her body.
“She’ll be okay, Tate. I promise they won’t let anything happen to her. You’re allowed to have some adult time.”
Adult time? What was that? Besides when she was at work, there wasn’t a moment since Briana’s birth that Tate was not with her. After Patrick left, she couldn’t even stomach the thought. That probably meant she centered too much time and attention on her only child, but Tate wasn’t in the mood to analyze herself right now. Briana was her responsibility and nobody else’s, and that was that.
“Look,” she said, turning so that she could slip her arm from his grasp. “This might not be such a good idea.”
“It’s a fantastic idea,” Regan said, coming up from behind. “You go out and let Sean buy you a fabulously expensive dinner and some kickass wine, and then you can come past the Big House and pick up Briana. Aunt Janean is going to love having a baby in the house again. And this way you and Sean can talk about your column becoming a part of the magazine show.”
As she’d talked, Regan had been pushing Tate toward the door, thrusting her purse in her hand as they passed the end table.
“Lyra’s got all her things, right?” Regan asked.
Lyra nodded her head as she slipped the already packed baby bag onto one shoulder, holding a now smiling and clapping Briana against her hip. “We’re all set.”
“The car seat,” Tate said. “You can use that one since there’s a new one in my car.” Her gaze fell to Sean, who simply shrugged.
“Just call me the fairy godfather,” he said, moving to open the door.
“I don’t believe in fairy tales,” Tate said, glancing at him as she walked past.
* * *
Tate meant every word of what she’d said. She didn’t believe in fairy tales—at least not anymore. But even she had to admit that her date with Sean had taken on a quietly romantic feel.
She sat in the passenger seat of his sleek car and watched as they pulled up in front of the Capitol Grill. After handing his keys to the valet, Sean went around to her side of the car and offered her his arm. She’d taken it, because…what else was she going to do?
As they entered the restaurant and the maître d’ greeted them with all smiles and unflagging manners, Tate felt the first moments of privilege. She was with a Donovan; she shouldn’t expect anything less. Yet the feeling was a little uncomfortable, since she’d never experienced it before.
They were led to a table in the center of a room, and she noted that there were several tables around the one where they were being seated, but none of them were occupied.
The restaurant was gorgeous with its Old World, elegant feel. It was all dark cherrywoods, deep cranberry Aubusson carpet, tables covered with impeccably pressed white linens and sparkling crystal glasses. In the center, a small ivory lamp glowed with entrancing life.
So much for this being just a casual dinner.
“Relax,” Sean said, pulling her attention away from the decor and the fact that she just might be in over her head.
“I’m fine,” she lied.
He was about to say something when the waiter returned to switch their white linen napkins with black ones to avoid any lint getting on their clothes. “Can I get you something to drink? Something from your private stock, Mr. Donovan?”
Sean nodded. “We’re sort of celebrating tonight, so yes, bring a bottle of Dom, the Rosé. Put it on ice and bring two glasses of water to start.”
“Excellent, sir.”
“You’re not fine,” Sean said, picking up the conversation where they’d been interrupted.
She opened her napkin, placed it in her lap and squared her shoulders. “What do you think we’re celebrating?” she asked, attempting to change the subject.
He looked at her like he knew exactly what she was doing but only shrugged. “Parker’s really convinced that the relationship segment should be added to the show. I have to agree with him. So we’re celebrating your rise from staff writer to relationship expert.”
She sighed. “Please, I am definitely no expert in that arena.”
“Really? You seem to be on point with all your responses to the letters. I’d think you had experiences that taught you a lot.”
“Taught me what not to do,” she said with a frown. Their water was delivered and she lifted her glass for a drink.
“Ready to order?” the waiter asked with a smile.
He didn’t wait on any of the other patrons in the restaurant, Tate was sure. He smiled at her as if he’d gotten dressed today and come in just to see her. She was flattered and decided to relax and enjoy the preferential treatment. Who knew when she’d receive it again?
“Let’s start with the pan-fried calamari and hot cherry peppers,” Sean said, not even looking at his menu. “Is spicy all right with you?”
His voice had lowered a bit when he asked that question, and Tate fumbled with her menu as she looked up at him. “That’s fine.” Mentally she told herself not to say “fine” again for the duration of the night.
She ordered lobster and crab-stuffed shrimp, while Sean went with the chef’s selection of Kona-crusted dry-aged sirloin with caramelized shallot butter.
“What happened with you and Briana’s father?”
Tate almost choked on her second glass of water. Clearing her throat and using her napkin to wipe her lips, she said, “You don’t beat around the bush do you?”
“Never saw the need to,” he stated flatly. “If you want to know the answer to a question, then ask the question.”
“So I can ask you anything I want and you’ll answer me?”
“Sure. There’s no reason for me not to.”
She contemplated that for a minute.
“You like changing the subject,” Sean said, “But I don’t confuse easily. What happened with you and Briana’s father?”
Tate couldn’t help but admire his persistence. A man shouldn’t be afraid to go after what he wanted. Her grandfather used to say that.
“We were married and we got divorced. See, no happy ending,” she told him. She was happily distracted when their entrée arrived.
* * *
Opening up wasn’t easy for her, another fact to file in his mental database, Sean thought. He was learning more about Tate Dennison than he’d anticipated. Then again, he reminded himself that she wasn’t a part of the plan; she was definitely outside the box for him. Whether that was a good or bad thing, he’d yet to decide.
For right now, he could tell that Briana’s father had never taken her to nice dinners or treated her like she was special. Nor any other man, for that matter. Hence the reason she was so against him doing just that. So why did he insist on doing it? Because from the moment he’d set foot in her office and seen her first dimpled smile, he knew she was special indeed.
Chapter 8
“You have a really nice family,” Tate said when they were once again in Sean’s car.
They’d picked up Briana from the Big House and were headed back to her apartment. The cheerful little girl was sleeping soundly in her new car seat, which looked oddly at home in Sean’s sports car.
“Thanks. I like them,” he said with a slight chuckle.
He hadn’t missed how nervous she was when they entered the Big House. And when they could hear Briana’s laughter floating through the spacious house, she’d tensed a little more.
“Your mother is very down-to-earth,” she continued saying as Sean drove through the dark Miami streets.
“Did you think she wouldn’t be?”
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her shrug. “I don’t know what I thought. I mean, I’ve never met a family like yours.”
“And what type of family do you have?”
The initial answer was her silence.
She definitely did not like talking about herself. But Sean had no intention of stopping until he knew everything he could about her. If that took more dinner dates and more babysitting requests from his family, then that’s what would happen.
“I have two older sisters. They live in Maryland. My mother died when I was thirteen so my father had the burden of raising three sassy and stubborn girls on his own. Well, not necessarily on his own. When my mother passed, we moved into my father’s childhood home with my grandfather.”
“Sounds like a pretty close-knit family. Just like mine.”
She shook her head. “No. We’re not like your family. Or at least we weren’t.” She took a deep breath. “We weren’t a bad family, that’s not what I mean at all. Actually, my father and my grandfather were very loving and supportive, especially when we grew up and decided what career paths to take.”
“And how did they feel about you moving all the way down here and taking their granddaughter? I know my mother would flip if she had grandkids and either of us thought about moving them to a different state. Whew!” he said, shaking his own head. “Hell hath no fury like Janean Donovan.”
Sean laughed thinking about his mother’s reaction, but he knew deep down it was no laughing matter. Janean would really be livid at such an arrangement.
“They may have been upset if they’d known,” she said quietly, but Sean heard her loud and clear.
“Your family doesn’t know where you are?”
She didn’t answer verbally, only shook her head. He almost ran right through a red light as he turned to see her reaction to the question. Pressing harder on the brakes, his fingers flexed on the steering wheel. “Why didn’t you tell them?”
“It’s a long story,” she said.
“I’ve got all night,” he said.
She shook her head again just as the light switched to green.
“I don’t want to talk about it.” This reply came more adamantly.
“Does it have anything to do with Briana’s father?”
Surrender to a Donovan (Kimani Romance) Page 6