Champagne Kisses (2 page)

“I don’t remember, Mom. But speaking of food, Marissa and I were—”

“Oh, it doesn’t matter,” Genevieve went on. She did a surreptitious sweep of Marissa from head to toe. “Of course, with your stunning hourglass figure, you probably stay away from such calorie-laden treats.”

“Probably not as much as I should.”

“Hmm. I must say it is wonderful to talk with someone without having to look up continually. All of my children took after their father in that regard. What are you, five-three, four?”

“Okay, Mom. Let’s not continue this round of twenty questions.”

“How else does one get to know their guests?” Genevieve asked dryly with raised brow.

Marissa chuckled. “Really, Donovan. It’s okay.” Looking at Genevieve, she continued, “I understand completely. I’m five foot four and also the shortest one in my family, not counting my cousins or my nephew, who just turned two.”

“Ha!” Genevieve’s twinkling eyes signaled how much she was enjoying the conversation. “So you have siblings.”

“A brother, who is older than me. He and his family live in Baltimore, Maryland, where his wife is from.”

Donovan cleared his throat. Marissa hid another smile behind a sip of sparkling chardonnay, a Drake Wines favorite. Genevieve barreled on determinedly. “How do you know Diamond, dear?”

“I haven’t had the pleasure of really getting to know her yet. I work for Boss Wright as his executive assistant.”

“Really?” Genevieve didn’t try to hide her surprise or heightened interest. “How long have you worked for him?”

“Okay, Mom. I think that’s enough for one evening.”

“I’m simply curious that someone as beautiful as this young lady didn’t try and snap up one of the country’s most eligible bachelors for herself.” She turned still-sparkling eyes on Marissa and lowered her voice as if they were two longtime pals. “Or did you?” She winked, letting Marissa know that she was teasing, and continued talking, as if trying to get under her eldest son’s skin.

It was working.

Donovan didn’t think for one minute that his shrewd mother was joking. He believed he knew the questions his mother wasn’t asking: Had Marissa ever been interested in Jackson Wright? Had Jackson ever been interested in Marissa? Had Jackson and Marissa ever slept together? If so, why? If not, why? Was Donovan interested in Marissa? And if so, how fast could Genevieve do a background check?

“You know what they say about curiosity,” Donovan drawled, gently taking his mother’s shoulders and steering her away from Marissa. “It killed the cat.” He kissed her on the top of her head. “We’re going to check out the dessert buffet,” he offered, to keep his mother from feeling totally dismissed.

“Enjoy your evening,” Genevieve said over her shoulder to Marissa. “We’ll talk again.”

After Donovan had deposited Genevieve into the safe and capable hands of his father, Donald, he returned to where Marissa still stood. “Now you understand why I want to sample another vineyard’s wines.”

“Completely.”

“So what do you say? Inland Empire Winery, Rancho California Road, fifteen minutes?”

Marissa smiled, and gave a nod. “I’ll meet you there.”

Chapter 2

D
onovan watched Marissa wind her way through the crowd and over to where Jackson and Diamond stood. Later, he’d explain to his sis and brother-in-law-to-be why he didn’t make his proper goodbyes. Diamond would understand. As with the brothers, she too had borne the brunt of Genevieve’s desire to expand the clan and bounce grandchildren on her knee as soon as possible. One would think that with Diamond’s wedding on the horizon the pressure would have lessened. Instead, her impending nuptials had created the opposite effect, especially where he was concerned.

“You’re the oldest,” Genevieve had chided the morning after Jackson proposed to Diamond. “I never thought I’d see the day where your sister beat you at anything.” Despite their competitive nature, this was one race Donovan had gladly lost to a sibling. He’d happily get beaten by Dexter, too, though hell would have probably frozen over and Armageddon made itself known before baby brother ended his Don Juan ways. In an attempt to throw off an undoubtedly still curious Genevieve from his trail, Donovan walked in the opposite direction as Marissa, joining his brother and the circle of female admirers that surrounded him. After another minute or two, he slipped out a side door, doubled back through the garden, around the infinity pool and into the parking lot. Bypassing his Mercedes—because if she noticed his car missing Detective Genevieve would undoubtedly ask what type of car Marissa owned—he walked the cobblestoned path to the company garage and settled into a company car. After retrieving the car keys that were always stowed in the overhead visor, he eased the Lexus hybrid out of the garage and was on his way.

The night was cool and the stars bright and vibrant as he made his way down the private winding road of the Drake Resort before turning left onto Rancho California Road and the short drive to his destination. He reached the neighboring winery, with which the Drakes maintained a friendly rivalry; parked near the front; and, bypassing the restaurant, opted for the less formal tasting bar. On this, the Saturday before Valentine’s Day, it was only moderately crowded. The bartender greeted Donovan by name, served up a deep-bodied cabernet franc and placed a bowl of salty nuts and pretzels within easy reach. After allowing a moment for the wine to breathe, Donovan picked up the glass, swirled its contents and thought of Marissa Hayes.

He’d noticed her the moment she’d arrived at the party. He’d seen the delicious smile she gave the valet as she exited her car and received her ticket. Donovan had been standing near the door, having just returned from escorting his great-grandfather—the family patriarch—from the north wing of the ten-thousand-square-foot home to where the festivities were being held. David Drake, Sr., a ninety-nine-year-young fountain of ever-spouting wisdom, whom everyone fondly called Papa Dee, had noticed her, too. His surprisingly clear eyes had gleamed with mischief when he said, “That’s a fine filly there, Donovan. An old man won’t fault you for abandoning me in favor of taking that youngling for a ride.” Donovan had laughed off the comment, but the short, stacked, brown bombshell rocking the forest-green, velvety-looking dress and stiletto heels had not only captured his attention, but she maintained it throughout the course of the evening.

He knew who she was, had remembered her from a few months earlier and the gala that celebrated the official opening of Drake Wines Resort and Spa. That’s how Diamond had become acquainted with Jackson, when his construction company, Boss Construction, won the bid to transform the twenty-five-year-old facility. It had been totally renovated and expanded to include a boutique hotel with a separate honeymoon house on the hill, a stand-alone gift shop and wine store and a world-class spa offering everything from massages to mud baths along with a full-service salon. All of this sat on more than five hundred acres of rolling hills and sterling grapevines. It was set against the mountainous backdrop of Temecula, a perfect place for weddings and the site for his sister’s upcoming nuptials.

His interest had been piqued that first time he’d seen Marissa, and he recalled the way his heart had clenched at the sight of her while something decidedly lower had also bobbed its amen. He remembered the way she’d offered a coy smile before glancing away from his intense gaze and how a jolt of electricity had accompanied their handshake. Most important he remembered the way that no matter how hard he tried all evening, he seemed to not be able to corner her; less than an hour into the party he’d found out she’d already left. Something about an upset stomach, Jackson had said. Upon finding out that she was gone, he’d shrugged off the attraction, hadn’t given her a second thought. Until tonight. But ever since he’d seen her tonight, he knew that her slipping through his fingers again was not an option. Not the way she was swinging that hair and wearing that dress, with a body so vivacious it should have come with a warning sign.
Dangerous Curves Ahead.

Donovan looked at his Rolex and then watched as the brother who was also at the bar finished his drink and passed a business card to the blonde seated between them before he walked out the door. The blonde turned to Donovan.

“What a jerk,” she said as she tore the business card in half before offering him a flirty look. Donovan gave her an understanding smile before turning his chair to face the bar’s liquor-covered shelves. He was sympathetic but not interested. Not tonight anyway. It had now been twenty minutes since Marissa had promised to meet him in fifteen. Leaning back in the comfy bar chair, he took another slow, deliberate sip of wine. His mother had taught him that anything worth having was worth waiting for. Donovan Drake was nothing if not a patient man.

* * *

Marissa pulled into the parking lot, her heart thumping with excitement. It seemed forever ago that she’d even consider giving a man her phone number, let alone meeting one for a drink. Her employer, Jackson, and anyone else who knew her would consider the night’s actions quite unlike her. But there was something about Donovan Drake that seemed different from the average man, something that made her feel safe and protected. He exuded a type of authority that you could only be born with, yet had a way of making you feel comfortable in his presence. Oh, and there was that minor detail about him being very good-looking. Not in a pretty-boy way like Trey Songz or Boris Kodjoe, or even in a
Dayum!
sort of fashion like his tall, hunky brother, Dexter. No, Donovan’s good looks were as much from what was within as the package without.

This is why she’d ignored the fact that at the moment, she wasn’t supposed to be interested in the opposite sex, that after the betrayal she’d endured from a so-called friend, work and continuing her education were the only two things that were supposed to have her attention. But the smile currently on her face had nothing to do with executive assistant work or landing a graduate degree in business administration, and everything to do with a tall, strapping male, one she’d thought of intermittently since being introduced to him months before. Then, as now, there had been nothing about the six-foot-tall, broad-shouldered sculpture of brown sugar that she hadn’t liked. Not his smoldering cocoa eyes, his juicy lips, his wide, thick eyebrows or that hint of a cleft that kissed the middle of a strong jawline. Nothing. This was probably why her heart raced as though she was on a first date. She felt she could fall in like with Donovan Drake very easily. She’d already fallen in lust.

“Let’s go, Marissa,” she encouraged herself. “It’s only a drink.” With one last look in the mirror and a quick sprucing up of her curly, shoulder-length tresses, Marissa got out of the car, got halfway between the parking lot and the tasting room door…and froze.

“Well, well, well.”

Thump, thump. Thump, thump.
Her heartbeat was so loud it almost drowned out the voice she’d hoped to never hear again. At least not for a few lifetimes. Unfortunately this pitter-patter had nothing to do with the man for whom she lusted and everything to do with one she despised.

“Hello, Marissa.”

Figuring the faster she’d speak, the faster he’d leave, her lips parted. “Hello, Steven.”

“You’re looking good.”

Any comment she would have offered, if it existed, would have had a hard time squeezing past the tightness in her throat. The greeting had been hard enough.

Steven eyed her a moment longer before turning to look through the window at the wall-length bar just beyond them. Marissa immediately saw Donovan talking to the bartender. On one side of him was a tanned man with dark hair and a mustache; a blonde woman sat on his other side. A couple walked up and took two seats on the short side of the L-shaped counter. “Which one of them are you here to meet?”

Marissa swallowed her discomfort, squared her shoulders and tried to not show how totally uncomfortable she was seeing her former best friend again.

“I’ve purposely stayed away from Long Beach and certain areas of San Diego so that I don’t have to see you. And now, I find you conveniently in between the two at the exact same time as I am. Are you stalking me?”

Steven laughed, the sound sinister and hollow. When he replied, his eyes were cold. “Don’t flatter yourself.”

“Then how did you find me, Steven?”

“I wasn’t looking for you. Antonio’s band has a gig out this way. Not that it’s any of your business.” They continued eyeing each other a moment. “I see you still believe that bull those strangers told you.”

“That’s right. I still believe it. And I still meant what I said when it happened. If I have another confrontation with you, if you harass me in any way, I will get a restraining order.”

Steven shrugged. “You do whatever you feel you need to do. Handle your business, because I’m definitely going to handle mine.”

Marissa took a deep breath and tried another
approach
. “You know what, Steven? Somewhere inside you is a nice person. I knew him once. In fact, we used to be friends.”

“That good man is still right here,” Steven said with that boyish smile Marissa remembered. “In fact, that good man still wants to take our relationship to the next level. I’ve already seen you,” he said cockily, with a long, lascivious visual sweep of her body. “Might as well let me tap that—”

“That’s enough,” Marissa hissed between gritted teeth. She found the nerve of this former best friend infuriating. She wanted to lash out, curse him out. Remembering the darker moments of their shared history, she chose to stay calm and keep her wits about her.

And just in time, as it turned out.

“Which one of those jerks are you screwing?” Steven demanded, his brow creased in anger as he pointed toward the glass. “Which one did you offer on a silver platter what I couldn’t beg you out of? I told you I’d deal with whoever came between us.”

That’s right. He had told her, that last night they were together, the night that changed everything. It was why she hadn’t gone on a date in a very long time. It wasn’t worth putting a potential new friend at risk. The Steven McCain she’d known since college had been smart, funny and trustworthy. Or so she’d thought. Until that fateful night he’d tried to take their friendship to another level. By any means necessary. That’s when she’d begun to believe he might not be as nice as he’d seemed. Or as sane.